#moonstruckness

Perhaps it was because you had always been a helper, and it felt good knowing that people were comfortable enough to come up to you and ask for such help.

But what you really loved about it was the outcome.

When the person you helped came to you afterwards and excitedly told you how they had aced their test, or how they had gotten a good mark on their assignment, it filled you with a quiet sense of pride. Not exactly for yourself, but for them. For their success, for their improvement. And because you had done that, you had helped them get to that success.

So naturally, you signed up to become an official tutor at the Hawkins High School Tutoring Centre.

It became apart of your routine. Staying after school to tutor someone, or having to come to their house to do so. Either way, you never really minded. All that really mattered was that you helped them not to dread class so much anymore, to help them to not have to scratch their head while looking at the work because they just didn't get it.

So of course, now in your sophomore year, you didn't mind when the coordinator of the centre informed you that a new person had been added to your roster. However, you didn't know who this person was because the arrangement had been last minute since the person's original tutor had been unable to do so, so he wasn't officially on your schedule yet. All that you knew was that he was a guy in the year above who had apparently been holding off getting tutored for a long time. This made you assume this guy was going to be a bit hard to work with, but you were always able to manage.

It had been thirty minutes since school ended when you sat in the library, waiting for this person to show up with your stationery already set out on the table. This person was already late, and should have already been at the table with you fifteen minutes ago.

You were thinking about the meatloaf you were going to have for dinner tonight when the doors of the library swung open, abruptly cutting off your thoughts and startling you. You looked up as the librarian glared at the culprit at the door, pressing a pointy finger to her lips.

And the culprit was the last person you expected to walk into a library of all places.

Steve Harrington.

As in Steve "The Hair" Harrington, also known as King Steve.

The kind of person who threw a raging party every Saturday, the kind of person who misbehaved in class because they knew there would be no real consequences, and the kind of person who would only ever be at school after hours for basketball practice.

So why the hell was Steve Harrington in the library of Hawkins High after school hours?

And why was he looking straight at you?

He didn't look happy by any means. He was obviously annoyed by whatever was plaguing him, and you grew nervous as he approached you while still wearing his irritated expression.

He came to a stop in front of your table, and you swallowed anxiously under his intimidating stare, starting to fiddle with the ends of your sleeves as a nervous habit.

"Are you Y/N L/N?" He asked flatly.

You blinked. "Yes. Can I help you?"

"You're supposed to apparently, you're my... tutor," said Steve, his face scrunching up as if the word physically hurt him.

Somehow, you had known from the second he had walked in with that look on his face, yet your stomach still dropped with dread when he said it.

You were happy to tutor anyone, but anyone didn't include Steve Harrington. It was something you had never worried about, because how were you supposed to assume that one day you would have to tutor King Steve out of all people?

You schooled your expression to the best of your abilities, and you recollected yourself as you nodded. "I see. Well... sit down, and we can get started."

You tried to say it kindly, but you immediately regretted doing so when he mumbled something grumpily under his breath as he reluctantly sat on the same table on you, pointedly choosing the seat furthest from you. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, and you had a feeling that was an urge you would need to resist often.

You cursed the coordinator of the centre for setting up this arrangement. Clearly, this person didn't know anything about how you and Steve couldn't be any more different, because you truly were polar opposites.

While he played beer pong at house parties, you were studying. While he goofed off in class, you paid attention and completed all of your work. While he was at basketball practice, you were tutoring. While he always had a rowdy table at lunch, you had a quiet and calm one.

There was a spectrum, and you both sat at the opposite ends of it.

You just hoped you could swiftly help Steve pass a test so that it would be over as soon as possible.

***

After just one week, you could tell you were going to be tortured with tutoring Steve Harrington for a while.

To put it nicely, he... lacked concentration, and perhaps lacked a lot more. You really didn't think he was stupid, he just couldn't focus on what he needed to.

Only after two sessions, you had noticed that while you talked, he simply didn't listen and clearly didn't even try to. He always had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was thinking about the party he was throwing that weekend, or what he was having for dinner. Sometimes he was clearly present in the moment, he just still chose not to take in a single word of yours. One time, he started to balance a pencil on his nose while you were explaining the math equation he needed to solve, and it had taken him ten minutes to realise you had stopped talking.

He was already by far the most difficult person you had tutored, and so far, you were lost on how to get through to him.

You didn't even know how or why he was in the tutoring program. He had made it clear since day one that he didn't want to be tutored by you, and he hadn't once shown an ounce of effort in any of your sessions. Maybe he had gotten pressured by his parents, that wasn't an uncommon reason behind kids coming to the tutoring centre. But then you had heard rumours that his parents was always out of town and that's why he was always able to throw parties, so if they were never there, why would they pressure him to do such things?

You didn't know, and you didn't really want to. You had no interest in Steve Harrington's life, no matter how handsome or charming he was. He wasn't all that interesting.

Nevertheless, you were still being forced into his life one way or another, so much so that you ended up with plans to go to his house on Sunday.

It had been during the usual tutoring session tucked away in the corner of the library, you overviewing your notes for your own work while he was supposed to be reading the textbook laid out in front of him. Of course, he was instead staring out of the window longingly, like he wished to be outdoors instead of stuck inside with you.

"Do we always have to do this in the library?" He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You looked up, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, is it necessary to be in the library for all of this stuff?" He rephrased.

"Well... yeah. A library is the best place to study and get work done," you said, confused on why this wasn't obvious to him.

"Yeah, but... someone could walk in," he said quietly.

Oh, so that's what it was about. He didn't want someone to walk in and see him actually studying, something that was considered weird and nerdy for people like him. Or more specifically, he didn't want to be seen with you.

You sighed, and propped your chin on the palm of your hand. "Then where do you suggest we go if not a library?"

"I don't know, just like... not at school," said Steve, avoiding your gaze.

"Well, you could come to my house or I could come to yours. I've done that with other people when they weren't able to study at school either," you said.

He blinked. "You want me to come to your house?"

"Yeah, so I can tutor you. If that doesn't work, then we can go the public library or-"

"No, just..." he trailed off, seeming to consider it before sighing, running a hand through his hair that you couldn't help but look at. "My parents are out of town this weekend. You can come over on Sunday if you really want."

You were secretly glad he suggested his house. You didn't want Steve coming over and judging your house that was very much not a mansion like his probably was.

"Sounds like a plan," you said dryly. "What time do you want me to come over?"

"I don't know like... two o'clock?" Said Steve.

"Works for me," you said unenthusiastically, and he seemed just as eager as you were as he ripped some paper from his notebook and wrote his address on it, giving it to you.

"Don't take this the wrong way but can you please not tell anyone about this?" Steve asked.

You didn't resist this time, and let yourself freely roll your eyes. "Don't worry, I don't want anyone knowing about this either Harrington."

His eyes flashed with surprise, and you tried not to feel too satisfied as you had clearly startled him with that.

The rest of the week passed quicker than you would've liked it to, and before you knew it, you were climbing onto your bicycle with your bag on your back and his address in your hand. It was a longer ride than you had anticipated, and you soon realised why your houses were so far away from each others as you entered his neighbourhood, which was lined with rich houses and fancy cars in driveways, a stark contrast to your neighbourhood that was filled with actual life instead of excessively big, soulless properties.

You finally pulled up to Steve's house, and suddenly the nerves inside you increased tenfold. You certainly didn't want to be alone with Steve Harrington in his house that was go-to place for high school parties you were never invited to. But you were a tutor, this was your job, so you had to pull through. You were determined to get Steve to at least pass one of his subjects.

You took a deep breath before you approached the house and knocked on the door. You stood there for a few minutes with no answer, so you knocked again, and only a minute after that, the door swung open.

Steve looked like he had just rolled out of bed with rumpled clothes and hair that was tousled, out of its usual polished state, a sight that felt a bit shocking to see as he was well known for his perfect hair.

He blinked as if he was surprised to see you, and then he said, "I forgot you were coming."

Despite your nerves, you were able to remain cool and unbothered on the outside as you shot him a deadpanned look, sarcastically replying, "flattering."

He sighed. "I didn't mean it like that, I just- sorry, I know you've come all this way, but I can't do the whole tutoring thing today. I've got a killer headache, so I'm in not in a good state to study."

You actually did believe that he had a headache, but you had a feeling he was leaving out some details.

"Are you hungover?"

A pause.

"No," Steve scoffed.

But his hesitation had already answered your question.

"Have you made a hangover smoothie?"

He frowned. "Hangover smoothie?"

"You don't do that sort of stuff? My sister always did when she was in high school," you said. "Do you have a blender?"

"I... don't think so?"

"God, for someone who always goes to parties, you don't seem well equipped for your hangovers," you said quietly, but he heard it all the same, and he looked at you incredulously.

"I can't study," Steve repeated firmly, probably a way of trying to get you to leave.

But you only tilted your head. "I think you can."

"What?"

"Just drink lots of water, and we can get started," you said with a sweet smile.

"This is ridiculous, you can't-"

"But I can, because I'm your tutor, and you can be as difficult as you want, but I'm not giving up on you. So, are you going to let me in, or should I tutor you at school this week?" You asked.

Steve stared at you in bewilderment, like he couldn't even fathom the fact that someone was saying no to him, that someone was going against what he wanted.

He seemed to realise that you weren't going away anytime soon, so he widened the door, and you smiled with satisfaction as you stepped into the threshold, shoulder brushing against his as you walked further into his house.

Your confidence diminished as you followed Steve into his fancy kitchen, awkwardly standing in silence while he had a water in a glass that had probably been expensive, like most items likely were in the house by how everything looked, but you tried not to pay too much attention to it all.

He then led upstairs to his bedroom, and you tried not to show your surprise at the size of it, at the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, the shiny basketball trophies that lined the shelves, and the ensuite connected to the room.

It reminded you of how much of a typical jock he was, and how you were supposed to tutor this certain jock.

"Get started with it then," said Steve unenthusiastically, flopping onto his bed. When he noticed you weren't moving, he said, "you can sit down, y'know."

You cleared your throat awkwardly before sitting on the edge of his bed that you noticed immediately was very soft. Still, you didn't let yourself get too comfortable as you shifted your bag to your lap, undoing the zip and starting to unload your stuff.

Soon enough, there were books and pens scattered on the bed, both of you sitting opposite each other. He at least had a notebook opened in front of him with pen in his hand, but that was where it ended, while you explained the key points of the Civil Rights Movement for his history class.

"Are you hungry?" He interrupted you to ask. "I am."

You gave him a confused look. "Um... I guess I could eat, why?"

"I'll go get a snack!" He said eagerly, jumping up from the bed, "do you like potato chips?"

"Yeah...?"

"Great, I'll be back," said Steve, bounding out of the room, leaving you confused by his sudden hospitality.

When he was gone for longer than necessary just to get chips, you realised he was just making an excuse to not do his work, and it made your irritation grow. You needed to come up with a new strategy to get the information for the work through his head.

He eventually came back with a bag of chips that he sat between you so that you could share, but he still ate most of them as you focused on trying to make him learn. It became even more annoying to do so when he kept crinkling the bag obnoxiously and chewing excessively, all while sat in a stupid position on his side while leaning on his elbow.

And then you got an idea.

Just as he reached out for more chips, you snatched the bag out of his reach and placed it next to you.

Steve looked at you, clearly affronted. "You didn't have to take the whole thing if you wanted some."

"I made some flash cards for you," you said, ignoring what he said.

"Oh, great," he said sarcastically.

You shot him a look as you reached into your bag to pull out the pile of flashcards stuck together with a paper clip.

"Here's how we'll do this. For every answer you get right, you get a chip," you told him. "If you get it wrong, well, you just won't get anything."

He narrowed his eyes. "That's just stupid. I could easily get those back."

"Okay, then go ahead."

He held your challenging gaze before moving abruptly to try and startle you, reaching for the bag. But you were faster, taking the bag before he could touch it and placing it on your other side.

His mouth parted. "That was good luck."

"Just answer the flash cards Harrington, and you can get as many as you want," you said. "Only if you get them right though."

Steve groaned, running his hands over his face before he said, "fine, then shoot."

You smiled, pleased, and read out the first flash card. "What does the atomic number of an atom tell you?"

Steve was silent for a moment. "Uh, say that again?"

You repeated it, then he narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.

"I thought we were doing history," he said accusingly.

"We were, but now we're doing science. I guess I didn't think you'd realise since you don't listen to anything I say," you said coolly.

Steve raised his eyebrows, and got off his elbows, sitting up. "Alright, so we're not holding back today."

"Why would I? I'm serious about tutoring you, Steve," you said while looking into his eyes, saying his first name for the first time without realising it. A smirk then tugged at his lips, and he subtly grew more confident.

"Atomic number... um... it tells you how heavy the atom is, or something?" He guessed.

"Incorrect," you said flatly, "but at least you tried. The atomic number of an atom tells you how many protons there are in the nucleus."

Steve frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"The nucleus of an atom is the centre of the atom, and it consists of the protons and neutrons," you explained, and at his lost expression, you added, "I can draw you a diagram-"

"No, just... next question," said Steve with a slight grimace.

You obliged, and went to the next card. "How many electrons are found in the first, second and third shells of an atom?"

"Jesus Christ," Steve murmured, rubbing his temple.

Feeling a stab of sympathy for him, you said softly, "want a hint?"

"Obviously."

"There are two found in the first shell, and the second and third are the same," you told him. "Well, it depends on which rule you're using, but we'll just use one for this one."

"I don't know, okay?" Steve snapped, still rubbing his temple. "We both know I don't know shit."

You deflated at his outburst, and you bit your lip, reading over the flash cards.

"Let's try this one, it's easy," you said gently. "What is the central part of an atom?"

Steve shot you a glare. "I don't-"

"I just said it," you told him encouragingly, "when I was explaining the answer to the first question. Think back on what I said."

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "I..."

"I offered to draw a diagram of it."

You waited patiently as Steve went into deep thought, and then he blurted out, "the nucleus!"

You grinned. "Yes! That's right?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really! Good job, Harrington, I knew you had it in you," you said happily.

"Thanks. Now, can I have my chips back?”

"Oh, right," you handed the packet back to Steve, and he took it back eagerly, digging into the bag enthusiastically. You snorted, and he sent you a sharp look with no real bite.

"You haven't had any yet, have some," Steve offered, holding it out.

"I'm fine, thank you," you said politely.

"You said you could eat, so eat," Steve insisted, and you let out a little laugh before giving in and taking one.

"You know, it's not that you don't know shit, it's that you don't pay attention," you said. "If you just simply did that, you would know much more."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Tell me more about it later," said Steve, bored by school talk. "What's your favourite chip flavour?"

To your own surprise, you went along with the change of topic. "Salt and vinegar."

His face scrunched up in disgust. "Are you serious?"

"What's wrong with salt and vinegar?" You said defensively.

"Everything. It makes my tongue feel weird, and I hate the smell," said Steve. "It's disgusting."

"No it's not! What's your favourite then if you're such an expert?" You inquired.

"Chicken's good."

It was your turn to grimace. "Yeah, you're the last person who should be judging my favourite flavour."

Steve's jaw dropped. "You don't like chicken?"

"It's got a weird smell to it," you said.

"Salt and vinegar is the one with a weird smell!" Steve said furiously, and instead of snapping back at him, you couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Surprise flickered across his face at your laughter, before he was unable to stop himself from laughing with you. It felt so out of the ordinary to be genuinely laughing with Steve Harrington on a Sunday, a moment that you felt like you shouldn't have belonged in.

And when the ring of the telephone on his bedside table cut through the sound of your combined laughter, the moment vanished, and you no longer belonged.

"I'll get that," said Steve, sobering and jumping off the bed to reach the phone, taking it off the stand and holding it to his ear.

The awkwardness crept back into you as you sat in silence, trying to mind your own business as you looked down at the books set out in front of you. Still, you couldn't help but pay attention to Steve's conversation.

"Oh, hey Nance!" He said eagerly, and you blinked at the change in his voice. "Mhm... yeah, of course, I would love to. How could I ever say no?" He laughed then, and you could hear the muffled voice on the other end. "Yeah, I'll be there in fifteen minutes. See you then."

You were picking at the skin on your fingers by the time he put the phone back down on the stand, and you reluctantly looked up as he turned to you.

"Hey, so uh-"

"You have plans with your girlfriend?" You said it before he could, raising your eyebrows.

"Well... yeah," said Steve sheepishly. "So unfortunately, we're going to have to cut this short."

"I don't think you find that unfortunate," you said knowingly, getting off the bed and starting to gather your stuff.

"Yeah, I don't," he admitted shamelessly. "No one does homework on a Sunday anyway."

"People with good grades do," you said pointedly, and Steve's eyebrows furrowed at the jab. Yes, it was a little harsh, but you had realised by now that you needed to be harsh if you wanted to get your point across. You straightened up, looking him in the eyes. "Harrington, you can't cut a tutoring session short just because your girlfriend wants to hang out with you."

Annoyance spread across his face. "Why not?"

"Because that's not how it works," you said snappishly, getting irritated with his obliviousness. "We were finally getting somewhere, and then you just ditched it with no second thought. You signed up for this, so you need to pull your head out of your ass and go through with it."

Steve scowled. "For the record, I didn't sign up for this, my dad did, so you should know I'm not doing this willingly. Even if I was, I'm not going to ditch my girlfriend to be tutored by another girl in my own house."

"Doesn't she know you're getting tutored?"

"No, no one does!" He blurted out, and you blinked. "The whole thing's pointless. Seriously, you really don't need to do this. You know my girlfriend is really smart? She can just tutor me instead, and she's happy to do so."

"Maybe you should've told your dad that before he signed you up," you said coldly.

"You don't think I- you know what, it's none of your business. You should just give it up, because you should know by now that this isn't going anywhere," said Steve heatedly, and you clenched your fists, biting your tongue so that you wouldn't say something you'd regret.

You packed the rest of your stuff and zipped your bag with an angry sigh. You hoisted your bag onto your back and went for the door, desperate to get out of the house.

But then you paused by the door, gripping the doorframe tightly as you looked at Steve who was glaring at the ground.

"You don't understand that I'm not giving up, Harrington. This might be an arrangement neither of us like, but I'm going to help you no matter what, because that's what I do. You shouldn't doubt yourself so much," your voice became quieter the more you spoke, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

You turned before you could see him look at you, and you hastily left the house.

***

The next tutoring session in the library was awkward and mostly silent. You had tried to explain the work to him for the first fifteen minutes, but when you realised he was never going to listen, you stopped talking and looked at your notes instead. You gave him a textbook that you told him to read even as that was something the both of you knew he wasn't going to do. You spent the whole session trying to think of what to do about him, how you could get him to just listen to you.

It was at the end when he broke the silence.

"About the other day..." he started, and you looked at him too quickly, with too much hope. "I just... you know who my girlfriend is, right?"

Oh, so it was just about his girlfriend instead of an apology. You didn't know why you were expecting more.

But of course you knew his girlfriend. Nancy Wheeler, a pretty, smart girl who nearly beat your top grade in the class, and sometimes did when you lagged behind on work due to tutoring. She was quiet but kind, and never did a thing wrong it seemed. You weren't friends with her, but you liked her with the exception of the times she got a higher mark than you, and jealousy would flare up inside you without being able to help it.

You didn't know how someone like her was able to put up with Steve.

"Yeah. She's really nice," you replied.

Steve smiled, a soft look in his eyes you had never seen before. "Yeah, I know."

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

"I just want to ask you to not tell her about this... whole tutoring thing. Or anyone, for that matter. I don't want her to know because it's a bad look for me to be spending so much time with another girl," he explained.

"But I'm just tutoring you," you said with confusion.

"Yeah, but still," Steve shrugged.

You didn't hold back from rolling your eyes this time.

"And I don't want anyone knowing I'm getting tutored either. They might think I'm a nerd," said Steve, and then gave you an apologetic look. "No offence."

"None taken," you said sarcastically.

"Anyway, is that all okay?" He asked.

You sighed. "Yes, it is. I haven't told anyone anyway, and I don't plan to. My goal is just to get you to pass one test, and then you can be free."

"One test?" He repeated.

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be an A or anything?"

"No, just a pass, even if barely," you said.

Steve nodded like he was accepting a challenge, leaning back in his seat. "Deal."

You hated how a small smile twitched at your lips. "Deal."

That next Sunday, Steve came over to your house instead. Leading up to it, you had been a nervous wreck.

People came over to your house all the time for tutoring, it had become normal for you, and you never minded it. But it was different with Steve, because he was different from all of the other people you had tutored. You had seen his big house, you knew he was rich just by looking into his driveway, so he was more likely to judge.

It wasn't that you were poor. You and your family were comfortable, but not rich, and you had a feeling Steve had only ever been around rich. You were the type of person who still only had a bike because you were saving up for a car, while he was the type to have his car bought for him.

You also just had wildly different interests, so yeah, you were pretty fucking scared.

You sat in your kitchen while your mum moved around you, biting your nails while you waited for Steve to come. You had deep cleaned your bedroom, and cleaned other parts of the house just to be safe.

You hated how much Steve Harrington was stressing you out.

"I think your new student is here," your mum said, looking through the window.

You jumped up at once, and joined her by the window, spotting Steve's burgundy BMW parked outside of your house.

Your mum raised her eyebrows. "He must be borrowing his dad's car.”

"No, that's his car," you said weakly.

She blinked. "Oh, wow. Okay."

You watched Steve get out of the car, subconsciously observing the navy jacket he was wearing over a polo shirt, along with his famous jeans that always fit him just right.

You blinked, startled by your own thoughts, and distracted yourself by heading for the door to greet Steve.

"Don't be weird!" You called out to your mum.

"I'm never weird!" She called back. That was a lie.

You opened the front door before Steve even reached it, and you internally winced at your eagerness.

He seemed to notice it by the slight raise of his eyebrows, but thankfully, he didn't say anything.

"Hey," he said casually as he approached you.

"Hi," you said blandly.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and you were about to ask him what was funny until he spoke. "You know, you always speak in this tone."

You frowned. "Tone? What tone?"

"Like, this flat tone, and you're blunt too," he explained. At your skeptical look, he rushed to say, "not in a bad way, it doesn't have to be bad. Except for when you're like, insulting me."

"I don't insult you."

"You literally did this time last week."

"Just because someone's saying the truth, doesn't mean it's an insult Harrington," you said sweetly.

He clicked and pointed at you. "See? That's it, right there!"

"That wasn't an insult."

"No, but it was blunt."

You rolled your eyes, albeit a smile tugged at your lips against your will.

"Just come in, we've got work to do," you said, widening the door and stepping aside for him to come through.

"Yes ma'am," said Steve, stepping into the threshold, and you failed to keep your smile from widening.

Your smile dropped when you were reminded of your fears as you noticed him looking around your home, and you started to pick at your fingers.

"My bedroom's just upstairs," you said quietly, about to lead him to your room until your mum appeared with a wide smile.

"Hello! You must be Steve!" Your mum greeted brightly. She introduced herself by her first name, and you wanted to sink into a hole.

"Nice to meet you," said Steve politely, seeming taken aback from your mum's energy. But there was nothing judgemental on his face, just... surprise.

"I don't know how long you plan to stay over for, but no matter the time, if you want a drink or some food, feel free to come down and ask! Or just get some yourself, she can show you," your mum said kindly, referring to you. "If she lets you out of the room, that is..."

"Mum," you warned.

"I'm just playing around honey! She's just a strict tutor, she's determined," your mum told Steve.

"He knows, mum. I've been tutoring him for a few weeks," you said with annoyance. At least, you had been trying to. "We're going up to my room now."

"Okay. Good luck, Steve!" Your mum said playfully to Steve, and you groaned as you urged him along while he laughed, seeming heavily amused by your mum.

"I'm sorry," you said once you were out of earshot. "I told her not to be weird, and I guess she heard a completely different thing."

"She's not weird," Steve smiled. "She's... really nice."

He wore a strange expression when he said it, one you couldn't read, so you just looked away and dismissed it.

You swallowed nervously as you entered your room, Steve stepping in behind you, and you rushed over to set up the stationery on the floor, as if starting as soon as possible would give him less time to look at your room.

You called him down to sit, and your face felt hot as he sat down without saying anything, glancing at your posters with an unreadable expression.

Your focus was on English today where Steve had to write an essay. You didn't think it was particularly hard, but that was always different for Steve. So you went into it thinking that he would be ignorant to it as always, that he would just get distracted by something stupid again.

But he proved you wrong.

Because when you looked at him, his eyes were already on you, and they weren't glazed over with the other thoughts he usually had running through his mind. He seemed... focused, and it startled you. Especially so when he asked a question about the topic.

So you let him write the introduction of the essay himself, sitting in silence as he wrote. Both of you had your backs pressed up against your bed, the supplies laid out in front of you while you sat a respectful distance from each other.

You tried to mind your own business, but then you couldn't help but stare at him while he wrote something that you'd probably have to give some constructive criticism on. Either way, it felt oddly personal to see him like that. King Steve sitting in your bedroom, writing an essay after apparently listening to the tips and information you gave.

You noticed how his eyes slightly narrowed while he wrote, his tongue sticking out slightly while he concentrated. The small vulnerability was definitely strange to witness, but... nice to see.

You snapped out of your daze, and looked away from him.

You spent the next whole hour working on the essay. There were many scrunched up balls of papers by the end of the hour, all that had come from a frustrated Steve every time he made a mistake. You had to gently remind him that it wasn't his final copy, that these were only his drafts.

He ended up with an introduction he was somewhat satisfied with, and a written starting sentence for the next paragraph.

You never thought you'd say it, but you were actually proud of him. Proud of him for finally putting in the effort, for swallowing his pride and taking your advice.

Your mum came at the perfect time with a plate of chocolate chip cookies just as you had decided to give Steve a break. They were leftovers from the batch she had made only a few days ago, and while Steve had been politely thankful, you could see the delight in his eyes.

After your mum left, he took his first bite of the cookie, and stopped masking his joy.

"I love your mum," he said blissfully, throwing his head back as he savoured the cookie.

"Don't go throwing that sentence around please," you said with a small grimace.

"But I do! I swear, these are heavenly," he said solemnly, holding up the cookie like it was a trophy. "This is exactly what I needed after the worst hour of my life."

You snorted. "Uh oh, Steve Harrington's actually done schoolwork and now he's dying."

"I am," he said seriously, and you laughed, making him grin.

You fell into a relaxed silence as you grabbed a cookie for yourself, and it felt strange to feel so comfortable around Steve, to just eat cookies with him in silence like you were friends who did this all the time.

After a few minutes, Steve interrupted the silence as he nodded towards something on the wall, asking, "do you have siblings?"

You followed his gaze to the photos of you and your family hung up on your wall, one of which included a younger you surrounded by older kids that were in fact your siblings.

"Yeah, quite a few actually," you answered. "But they're all either moved out or at college right now, so I'm basically an only child at the moment."

"So... you're the youngest?" Steve inquired, and you weren't expecting the genuine curiosity in his voice.

"That I am," you said with a bashful smile.

Steve hummed as he stared thoughtfully at the picture of you and your siblings.

"I've always wondered what it would be like to have siblings," Steve said like it had been a thought in his head more than something he'd meant to say out loud, and that seemed to be the case by the way his face fell after he realised what he had said.

But you didn't pay any mind to it, continuing the conversation normally, "it's loud when the house is full. It can also be really annoying when I want some quiet privacy, because that always get disrupted. Well, I guess I get time to myself all the time now, but that's going to change when they come back for the holidays."

You hadn't meant to ramble, and heat rushed to your cheeks once you realised, but Steve

showed anything but judgement. If anything, he seemed invested in your words, a faraway look in his eyes like he was imagining the scene for himself.

"Sounds nice," he said so quietly you almost didn't catch it, and you decided not to let him know that you had heard it, because you somehow knew those words had only been for himself. He cleared his throat, seeming to recollect himself as his voice returned to its usual confident, slightly cocky state. "So, do you plan to go to college like them? Your siblings?"

"Yeah, I'm actually really excited to. It'll be nice to get out of Hawkins," you said with a smile, "what about you?"

Steve shrugged. "I guess. My dad wants me to. But anyway, I probably can't get in with the way I'm going," he gestured to his incomplete essay.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you really do have it in you, Harrington? And either way, it's up to you whether you want to go to college or not. Don't let your dad decide for you," you said lightly, popping a small piece of a cookie into your mouth.

Steve blinked, and something vulnerable flickered in his expression for a few seconds before it smoothed over, his walls coming back up.

He seemed to be in a rush to lighten the unspoken weight that now hung in the air, so in his haste, he grabbed another cookie and took a reckless bite of it, spilling crumbs onto your carpeted floor.

"Stop it, you're getting crumbs on my carpet!" You complained, grimacing as you picked the crumbs out of your carpet and sprinkled them back onto the plate.

When Steve let out a laugh, your expression soured and you decided to take a different approach, gathering more crumbs in between your fingers before throwing them at him.

He let out a sound of disbelief as he held his hand up to shield himself, and he narrowed his eyes at you before he picked some of the crumbs out himself and threw them at you.

"You jerk!" You laughed, swatting his arm before the two of you fought over the last few pieces of crumbs in the floor to toss at each other.

You both ended up in a fit of laughter that made your stomachs hurt from the sheer absurdity of it, and that was what you counted as the first successful tutoring session.

***

The tutoring sessions with Steve changed after that day. Instead of it being something in your schedule you dreaded, it became something you actually looked forward to, because the times with Steve became enjoyable.

You both came to an agreement of doing tutoring twice a week, since you had other people to tutor and he had basketball practice. Wednesdays at his house, Sundays at yours.

You grew to favour Wednesdays and Sundays.

What it was, was that he was finally listening to you, and he was finally getting schoolwork done. There were many things about the work from each subject that you always had to explain to him multiple times so that he would understand, but you never lost your patience. He seemed surprised by this every time, looking at you like he was waiting for you to get angry after sheepishly asking for another explanation.

But you never did. You never saw any reason to.

It was not only that he was finally getting assignments done, but there had also been a shift in the dynamic between you. At the beginning, it had all been awkward silences and irritated glares, until you started to talk instead of letting the silences settle, until you laughed instead of throwing annoyed words and looks at each other, and the glares became playful instead of real. It began to feel less like a chore, and more like a fun hangout.

You considered Steve Harrington as a friend now, which felt ridiculous while simultaneously feeling right, because why wouldn't he be your friend? Sure, he didn't acknowledge you at school, and sometimes he talked about his girlfriend too much when he should've been studying, but he was kind. He was extremely nice to your parents, he complimented your home in a way that you knew he meant it, and he was always offering you food and drinks whenever you went to his house, or bringing them over whenever he came to yours.

You had even grown to like him so much that you started making hangover smoothies for him every Sunday when he came to your house, because he was pretty much always hungover on Sundays. You told yourself that you did it because you wanted him feeling well enough to be tutored, but deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Sure, he had his flaws, but Steve wasn't nearly as bad as you had initially thought him to be. Because you had seen a different side of him, a softer and more vulnerable side he never showed in public, in front of his popular friends and the girls that fluttered their eyelashes at him despite knowing he was taken. You wondered if he even showed that side to Nancy Wheeler.

It had especially shone through on one Wednesday when he came to your house instead of his. He had called you immediately after school to beg you to not come to his house, to have him come to yours instead just for that week. He hadn't told you why, but you had said yes anyway, because all you needed to hear was the urgency in his voice to know that it was important.

You hadn't asked when he arrived, even when he  looked down more than usual. You still didn't ask when he wasn't nearly as talkative as he usually was, almost silent the whole time as you talked him through the history paper he had to write.

You were forced to finally do something about it when you noticed him doing nothing after you left him to do it on his own, his eyes glued to the paper with a distant look in his eyes, mindlessly tapping his pencil on his knee. It was easy to see as you were working in your living room, sat at either ends of the couch. You didn't want to push him as he clearly wasn't in a good mood, but unfortunately, giving him a push was what you were there to do.

"Steve," you said softly, bringing him back to the moment and capturing his attention. "Are you struggling to start the next sentence?"

He blinked. "Huh?”

"On the paper," you said, nodding towards it.

"Oh," he said, looking at it like that was the first time he had noticed it there. "Um... no. Just thinking."

"You've been thinking for a long time," you pointed out gently, and you swallowed when he fixed his hard gaze on you. "I just- if you need me to go through it again, you know not to be afraid to ask me-"

"For god's sake, I already know I'm stupid so can you just leave it alone for a second?" Steve snapped, and you jerked back a little, taken by surprise. "I don't need you talking to me like I'm some slow kid."

"I wasn't-"

"You were. You always do!" Steve said out of frustration, running a hand through his hair.

You stared at him for a moment, processing his words before you leaned back into your spot on the couch, accepting defeat.

"Work at your own pace then, Steve," you said flatly, not bothering to hide your annoyance as you shifted your body away from him, focusing on your own notes.

You didn't look at him for a few minutes, but the tension in the air was palpable as you felt Steve's gaze burn holes into you. He said your name after at least ten minutes had passed, and you looked at him to find his guilty expression.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking at the ground. "You're not doing anything wrong, I'm just an asshole. I don't even know why I'm acting like one when I literally wanted to come here."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The last place I wanted to be at was my house tonight, and for some reason, your place was the first thing that came to mind for an alternative," Steve admitted softly, and your heart skipped a beat. "I was so relieved when you said yes to me coming here instead."

The admission slammed into your chest, and it made your breath catch. Your house had been the first place he had thought of for an escape? Not Tommy Hagan's house? Not even Nancy Wheeler's?

Steve blinked as if snapping out of it, and frantically said, "sorry, that was a weird thing to say. I don't know why I- just forget that ever came out of my mouth."

"Don't be sorry. I think it's nice," you said softly, turning your body back to him as he looked at you curiously, "that you thought of my house as a better place to be. I didn't realise you liked it that much."

"How could I not? It's the place that holds the outcomes of your mum's glorious baking," Steve joked, and you laughed quietly, shaking your head at him. Steve smiled, but his face quickly sobered as he looked at you questioningly. "By the way, you haven't asked me anything."

"About what?"

"About what happened at my house, why I prefer to be here," said Steve bluntly.

You shrugged. "Not my business, is it? It's up to you if we talk about it."

Steve seemed taken aback by that, and you didn't know why he did. Was he used to people prying in his personal business that clearly upset him?

"But... don't you want to know?" Steve pushed.

"I guess I'm a bit curious, but I'm not going to force you to say anything," you said as if it were obvious.

Steve opened his mouth just to close it again, and narrowed his eyes. "You're weird."

You arched an eyebrow. "Or I'm just not nosy."

"Or that," Steve agreed in defeat, and you huffed out a laugh. You didn't expect anything more from him, but when he started talking again in a weaker tone, you listened. "My dad's just an asshole, and... is it really bad to say that I prefer my parents being away on a work trip to them being home?"

You didn't respond momentarily, staring ahead thoughtfully before you softly spoke. "I think you're allowed to feel however you want to, and you shouldn't be so quick to invalidate yourself."

You looked at Steve to find him staring at his lap with his eyebrows knitted together into a small frown, picking at his fingernails as he went into deep thought, probably taking in your words.

Neither of you mentioned it again after that. His asshole of a dad and his unstable home, that was. Every time his parents were home on a Wednesday, you always changed the plans around for him to come to your place instead. You never made a big deal out of it, never talked about the reason why, because you never felt it was necessary to make Steve explain himself more than he had to. It was something Steve appreciated more than you could realise.

It was a Friday night when your parents were in need of some last minute groceries. Your dad had been about to go get them himself before you had offered to get them instead. Your parents had both just come home from a whole day of working, and it had worn them down enough to the point you could see the exhaustion on their faces, so you had been generous enough to take a small weight off their shoulders. They had been hesitant to let you with the recent disappearance of a young boy named Will Byers, but they had been too tired to argue with you, so they let you go with minimal argument.

You weren't old enough to drive on your own yet, so you took your bicycle as you always did with a flashlight. The grocery store wasn't far away anyway.

You quickly popped in and out, getting what you needed with the cash your parents had given you. You took your bicycle out of park and struggled to juggle the full grocery bag in your hands while trying to get onto your bike safely, only having the fluorescent lights of the store behind you to help.

You heard a car pulling up to the curb in front of you, and didn't look up as you thought nothing of it, thinking it was just someone else coming to the grocery store until they suddenly honked. You jumped in surprise, almost dropping the bags as you looked up.

The headlights of the car blinded your vision for a moment, and you blinked rapidly as you squinted to see who was sitting in the drivers seat of the car. When you realised who it was, bewilderment washed over you.

The window rolled down, and Steve tilted his head to meet your gaze from the drivers seat. "What are you doing?"

You blinked, and shot him a look of disbelief. "What am I doing? What are you doing, honking at me like some idiot?"

"That's not very nice."

"Am I usually nice, Harrington?"

Steve snorted. "No. But seriously, what are you doing?”

"What does it look like? You do know what groceries are, right?" You asked sassily.

"I know that! But why are you... you're trying to get onto that bike while you're holding a bag that looks very full."

"Yes?" You said, confused on why he was pointing out the obvious.

Steve returned your confused look. "Didn't you bring your car?"

You gave him a deadpanned expression. "I don't have a car."

Steve didn't react for a moment as he comprehended what you had just said, and then his eyes widened. "You- you don't have a car?"

You looked at him with irritation. Of course a rich boy like him couldn't believe such a thing. "No, because not all of us are rich like you, Harrington."

Steve blinked, eyes flitting from you to your bicycle as he slowly seemed to understand. "Right... but you couldn't even bring your parents' car?"

"I can't drive yet. I'm a year younger than you, remember?"

"Then why-"

"Can you stop interrogating me and just get to the point of why you're here right now? Or have you just come to make fun of me for not having fancy transportation like you?" You snapped more harshly than you meant it, and a tense silence followed your outburst, making embarrassment flood through you.

"I didn't come to make fun of you," said Steve quietly. "I was going to ask if you wanted a ride back home."

Your face changed, not expecting that. "Oh."

"Yeah, um... well, do you? Want that ride?" Steve asked.

"Is it still up for grabs after I just bit your head off?" You said sheepishly.

Steve let out a laugh, and answered your question wordlessly as he got out his side of the car and walked around the BMW to approach you. He stopped in front of you, looking into your eyes for a second before he took your bike out of your hands.

"You're not about to throw my precious bike to the side of the road, right?" You asked, half joking.

He snorted. "No, I'm putting it in the trunk. You can get in the passenger seat, I’ll be there in a second, I just gotta put the seats down first."

You were about to speak up to say that he didn't have to go through so much trouble and that you could really just pedal your way home, but he was too swift in his movements as he opened the car door, leaning in to adjust the backseats of his car.

You tentatively got into the passenger seat, balancing the grocery bag in your lap. You glanced at Steve through the rearview mirror, and felt a weird fluttery sensation in your chest.

You stared ahead with a warm face as you listened to Steve’s movement before you could hear the sounds of him handling your bike. You looked over your shoulder this time, and watched the way he put in extra effort to make sure your bike was in a safe position before he closed the trunk. You turned back to the front, the fluttering in your chest intensifying as your cheeks started to burn. God, why were your cheeks burning?

You didn't move as Steve got back into the car and started up the engine again. After a moment of silence, he said, "you can put your seatbelt on, y'know."

"Right! Sorry," you said, your cheeks burning even hotter as you scrambled to put your seatbelt on.

Steve pulled out of park after putting his own seatbelt on, and you deliberately kept your gaze on the window while keeping a tight grip on the bag in your lap.

"You also don't have to keep that bag on your lap. You can put it on the ground," Steve added.

You might as well have been on fire at that point. You carefully placed the bag on the ground, avoiding his gaze. "Sorry, it's just... a nice car. Don't want to ruin it."

"Groceries won't ruin the car," Steve chuckled, and you smiled sheepishly. In your defence, it was a really nice car. "So, why were you on your own? Getting groceries, I know, but your parents didn't want to come?" Steve asked, genuinely curious.

"They were going to get groceries, but I decided to do it to let them rest. They're tired from working all week, so I just wanted to give them a little break," you explained bashfully.

Steve hummed. "That's really nice of you."

"Unheard of, right?" You joked.

"Not really," said Steve so quietly you were sure you imagined it, glancing at him to find that infuriatingly unreadable expression on his face again. "Still dangerous to be going out by yourself at night, though. Especially since that kid's just gone missing."

You did a double take, unsure if you had heard him right the first time. His tone was casual as he said it, but his jaw was tight. He surely didn't care, did he?

"Well, that kid was eleven, and I'm sixteen. I'm capable," you replied.

"Sixteen's not that much older."

"Oh come on, don't act all high and mighty just because you're a year older."

"I'm not. I'm just saying you need to be more careful because I- you don't want something bad to happen you," his voice grew quieter with each word, barely inaudible at the end of his sentence, but you were still able to catch what he said.

You shot him a confused look. He was acting weird tonight, you thought. There was that softer side of him showing that he never displayed in public, but it wasn't that. There was something about his energy that lacked its usual spirit, something dejected. Had it been his parents again, you wondered? You certainly weren't going to ask, though.

The rest of the drive to your home was silent and quick. The grocery store was only a short way from your house anyway.

When you arrived, Steve got out of the car with you to take your bike out of the trunk, being kind enough to park your bike where you directed him as you held the grocery bag.

"Thank you, Steve. For the ride and doing... all of this. You really didn't have to," you said sincerely as he leaned on his car.

Steve smiled weakly. "No worries. Couldn't have just left you there, could I?"

"You could've," you said calmly.

"I'm not that bad, L/N," said Steve teasingly, and you chuckled.

"Goodnight, Steve," you said softly, sending him a small smile.

He mirrored your smile, saying goodnight to you back with your name. You turned on your heel, starting the walk to your house as your heart raced in your warm chest.

When Steve called out your name, you turned around too quickly, making it seem as though you had been waiting for him to call you back. Perhaps you had been.

Steve scratched his neck, seeming nervous as he hesitated. "Um, sorry to be a bother but can I just ask for some advice?"

"Yeah, of course," you said, walking back over to him.

"Since you're a girl and all," said Steve quickly. "It's about Nancy."

You froze.

Oh. You forgot about Nancy.

Your chest twisted suddenly, nearly winding you and making you stumble, but you kept your composure and faced him with your chin up.

"Yeah, what's up?" You said airily.

"She's not happy with me right now. I invited her and her friend over to a party at my house, and she stayed over without her friend and now she hasn't seen her since, and she's really worried," Steve explained. "And I guess I was just more concerned about getting in trouble than her friend, and she got pissed off at me for it and... I don't know, I just don't know how to make it up to her."

You frowned. "Wait, her friend? Like, Barb?"

"Yeah, her. You haven't seen her around, have you?"

"No, not since Tuesday," you said.

"Well shit, that's the night she went missing..." said Steve, and your eyebrows drew together with concern. Just like Nancy, you weren't friends with Barb, but you had always thought she was nice. "Anyway, Nance isn't talking to me so I thought that you, a girl, would know how to fix it."

"Right," you said uncomfortably. "Why don't you ask your friend Carol? She's a girl."

"Yeah, but she's too... I just think you're someone who gives better advice," said Steve honestly.

You didn't know how to take that, and you hated how a smile twitched against your lips.

"Well, it seems simple. You just go up to her, apologise, and help her look for Barb. Or just be there for her. She's obviously distraught if her best friend is nowhere to be seen," you told him.

Steve nodded along, listening intently. "Yeah, okay... thanks."

You smiled weakly, "no problem."

Steve sighed. "I just... I really like her, and I don't want to mess it up, y'know?"

Your chest twisted even further, and you bit your lip, looking away from him.

"Yeah, that's understandable. Well, I hope it works out between you, but I have to go to bed now. My parents will get worried," you said briskly, already starting to talk away.

"Yeah, okay. Goodnight," he said.

"Goodnight," you said quietly over your shoulder, and basically sped to your house, not looking behind you as you went back inside the safety of your home where he couldn't reach you.

That was the night you realised you had developed feelings for Steve Harrington.

But it didn't matter, because his heart only belonged to Nancy Wheeler, and you didn't stand a chance.

***

You were zoned out as you absentmindedly stored some of your books into your locker, your mind in a different place to your physical body.

Annoyingly enough, all it ever seemed your mind could stay on these days was the thought of Steve.

You knew it had been a bad idea to tutor him from the very start for many reasons, and now your worst fear had actually happened. Just like every other girl at Hawkins High, you had developed a schoolgirl crush on Steve Harrington, and he plagued your mind completely without permission.

It had been two weeks since you came to your realisation, and every tutoring session with Steve since then had been torture. It didn't help when he was his usual sweet self, bringing your favourite snacks when he came to your house, telling you how one of the posters in your bedroom looked cool, getting along with your parents, and listening to you with that concentrated look he had that was frustratingly handsome.

And it certainly wasn't helping that he now insisted on giving you a ride home every time you went to his house. He had asked you about your method of transportation to his house since he found out you weren't able to drive, and he seemed to take it personally when you told you just took your bike every time. Sometimes, you even got into small arguments about it, because you didn't like making him go through the effort of putting your bicycle into his car every time, but it made you learn that Steve didn't take no for an answer when to came to those sort of things.

Every ride home made your heart beat a little faster for him, and your feelings grew stronger with each time you both talked nonstop for the whole ride. It wasn't fair that he was able to make you feel such a way.

You used to judge those kind of girls before, the ones who batted their lashes at him in an attempt to get his attention, the ones who stared longingly at him in the hallways. Now you were one of them, and you felt so pathetic. You wanted to defend yourself by acknowledging that you had actually spent quality time with him and had gotten to know him as more than just a popular jock, that you had seen what was under the mask he always hid behind at school.

But did it even matter when he had never once remotely showed interest in you? When you technically weren't even friends, just acquaintances? You were his tutor for goodness' sake, of course you weren't supposed to feel this way. You had never even come close to feeling the same about anyone else you had tutored.

Of course Steve had been the one to capture your heart out of all of it. Him and his stupid soft smile that almost seemed reserved for you, him and his stupid jokes that made you genuinely laugh, and him and his stupid kindness in giving you a ride back to your house that night, putting your bike in his car without you having to ask him to do so, the implications of him caring about you when he expressed a concern for your safety.

All before he had asked you for advice on how to make it up to his girlfriend.

Even if you could've, you wouldn't. You certainly weren't the type to barge into a relationship, a very happy one at that.

You were snapped out of your daze when you heard someone call your name, and you perked up, looking into the direction of the voice.

A boy named Tyler came up to you, a student in your year that you tutored for maths and history. He had an excited expression on his face as he approached you with a piece of paper in his hand.

"Hi, Tyler," you greeted with a warm smile. "What's up?"

He grinned at you. "I have news. Good news."

"What is it?"

He held the piece of paper up to your face, showing you the contents. All you had to do was look at the B circled on it to know what it was.

"I got a B on my maths test!" He told you happily.

"That's amazing!" You said with a wide smile, pride blooming in your chest upon seeing the joy in his eyes. "I told you you had it!"

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said. "Seriously, thank you so much. You saved me."

You laughed sheepishly. "I'm just glad it worked out for you."

"I mean it, you're the best! I hope you're getting good credit for all of this tutoring you do," said Tyler earnestly. "You deserve it."

You smiled. "Thanks."

"I'll see you around. Hopefully I'll ace my history test next!" He said hopefully as he walked off, and you gave him a thumbs up before he fully turned away.

You turned back to your locker with a smile, your chest filled with warmth. That was why all those hours of tutoring was always worth it at the end of the day. The extra credit was a bonus, but it was helping others that really mattered for you.

You jumped at the sudden bang on the locker next to yours, followed by a familiar voice saying, "who was that?"

You turned your head in surprise, and your face morphed into an expression of disbelief as you saw him.

Because here Steve was, his body completely facing you while it leaned against the locker next to yours, his arms crossed and his eyes focused on you while everyone moved around you, all easily able to see the interaction between you two. The interaction between the most popular guy in school and some quiet girl who tutored people. 

It was the first time Steve had ever even looked at you in the school hallways, let alone talked to you, so it took you a moment to respond to his question as you processed your current situation.

And god, you hated how your chest started feeling warm in a different way when you looked at him.

"Um- uh- just a guy I tutor," you said bashfully.

"What were you talking about? He seemed very happy about something," Steve asked, and you quietly grew confused at his curiosity.

"He got a good grade on his test. He came to me because I helped him study, and he really thought he wasn't going to do a good job, but I told him he would, and I was right," you said with a proud smile.

Steve narrowed his eyes at you, his expression unreadable. "Hm, interesting. You seem to like him."

You blinked. "Um... yeah, he's a nice guy."

"So, do you have a thing for him?" Steve said suddenly with a smirk.

Your face dropped. "What?"

"What? It's just a question. You can tell me, I promise it'll stay between us. If it helps, it seems like he might like you too," Steve lowered his voice and leaned in a little, causing heat to rush to your cheeks.

You tried to hide your flustered state by rolling your eyes and slamming your locker shut. "No, Steve. I don't have a thing for him."

"But wouldn't he be your type? Like, smart guys?"

You looked at him incredulously. "No offence to him, but he's not exactly a smart guy if he needs tutoring. God, Steve, just because I get along with him, doesn't mean I like him. I'm his tutor, and that's it."

His infuriating smirk didn't falter, his eyes shining with amusement as he said, "if you say so."

You sighed while rolling your eyes again. "You're so annoying."

"Your eyeballs will get stuck in the back of your head if you keep rolling them."

"Then stop doing things that make me roll my eyes, idiot."

Steve opened his mouth to continue the banter both of you would never admit you thoroughly enjoyed, but the next words never got to leave his mouth as you were suddenly approached by two certain people, one of which threw an arm around Steve.

"Couldn't find you for a second there Harrington, you disappeared on us," said Tommy Hagan, while Carol Perkins stood beside him, chewing gum obnoxiously while assessing you with her eyes.

Then, a smirk spread on her lips, her voice laced with amusement as she asked, "who's your friend, Steve?"

Tommy looked at you like he hadn't noticed you were there, and immediately started sniggering even though you hadn't done anything.

Steve's face fell, something more guarded taking over his expression at the presence of Tommy and Carol while panic flickered faintly in his eyes, and you noticed it. Meanwhile, your stomach churned uncomfortably as Tommy and Carol stared at you like you were some form of entertainment.

When Steve didn't answer Carol, you took it into your own hands and hesitantly said your name. She snorted, arching an eyebrow at you.

"I wasn't asking you," she said.

"Well you were looking at me when you said it, so maybe you should've been clearer about who you were talking to," you shot back coldly, and Steve's eyes widened while Tommy whistled.

Carol's face hardened, chewing her gum more aggressively.

"Sassy, aren't you? Honestly Steve, since when did we start stooping so low for new friends? We shouldn't be welcoming this kind of crowd," she said, looking at Steve with a scoff.

"We're not," said Steve quickly, and you frowned. "She's not my friend. She's just..."

He trailed off, catching your sharp gaze. He held it for a few moments before looking away, looking at his actual friends, "she’s a stranger to me."

Your heart dropped.

A stranger.

Not a friend, not even an acquaintance, just a stranger. That's all you were.

“Then why are you even talking to her?” Carol snorted.

“Because, um… she dropped something and I was just giving it back to her was all,” said Steve hastily, talking about you like you weren’t even there.

Carol raised her eyebrows, unconvinced, and god, you wanted nothing more than to just shove her face into the locker like she deserved.

"As fun as this is, I'm hungry man, let's go eat!" Said Tommy, slapping Steve's back before letting go of him. He briefly glanced at you, his voice mocking as he said, "see you later... uh, whatever your name is."

Carol giggled, "yeah, see you sweetheart."

Tommy burst into another fit of sniggers, and your eyes caught it immediately as Steve let out a laugh, albeit it sounded a little more uncertain than the others.

But you were probably just imagining that just to make yourself feel better, because when the three of them walked away, Steve didn't look back at you once.

Your cheeks burned as he left you standing there, feeling like an idiot who had just been picked apart by a group of people who deemed themselves superior to you just because you weren't popular.

As if that hadn't already ruined your day, as if Steve hadn't already made your heart hurt enough, something happened at the end of your science class.

The class was pleasantly rowdy as everyone either did their written science work or talked with their friends about their plans for the weekend. You were one of the people doing their work, and was the first to walk up to the teacher to hand in your completed work.

"Well done, Y/N. I look forward to grading this, you never fail to impress me," your science teacher said, and you smiled sheepishly, thanking her quietly. "So, how's that tutoring of yours going?"

"Really good," you said, hating how Steve crossed your mind.

"I'm sure it is, I've even seen the evidence of it. You know, I never thought I'd see the day where Steve Harrington would be able to understand anything in my class, but proving by his recent results on his last test, it seems as though I have made it to that day," she told you with a smile.

You stilled. "What do you mean?"

She tilted her head at you. "Hasn't he told you? He passed his science test the other day. I even almost gave him a B."

You narrowed your eyes, "the other day? I- did you give him these results?"

"Yes. I know he tried to hide it, but I could see how happy he was."

Your blood started to pump in your ears, the realisation slowly dawning on you as you comprehended what she was saying.

"I even heard he got a good grade on his English assignment too. I don't know how you've done it, but you've worked wonders on him," she said. "Good job."

You didn't say anything for a moment before collecting yourself enough to say quietly, "yeah, that's good."

You went back to your seat after that, the noise around you fading to the background as the gears turned in your head.

He had been passing tests and getting good grades on assignments, and hadn't told you? He had been keeping it from you?

Your jaw tightened, and you clenched your fists, something hot stirring in your stomach.

You were going to kill him.

***

You thought it had been apart of your dream at first, then you thought it was just some animals playing around outside. But when the persistent tapping kept on going every time you thought it would stop, you finally woke up, and investigated.

When you saw nothing was happening to your window, you went over to it anyway, looking outside to see the source of the noise.

It was much worse than an animal. It was Steve throwing rocks at your parents' window, the morning sun shining down on him and highlighting the small cuts on his face along with the purple bruise on his left cheek.

You gasped softly upon seeing his beat-up face, concern flooding you against your will as you worried about who did something like that to him. You stared at him in disbelief before rushing to put your dressing gown and slippers on, tidying your hair as best as you could before hastily making your way out of the house, not even bothering to be quiet since Steve was being noisy enough anyway.

You walked around your house to meet Steve now crouched, gathering more rocks to throw. You stood there for a moment, gazing at him with folded arms while he didn't notice you, lost in his own world. You reminded yourself that you needed to be hostile, that he still hadn't given you an apology for what he did a few days ago.

When he rose to his feet, you finally spoke up.

"Trying to wake my parents up?" You asked, and he jumped, whirling around to you with wide eyes. He blinked at your words, looking back to your parents' window as you clarified, "that's their room, genius. I know you like my mum's food, but you surely can't be that desperate."

Embarrassment flickered across his face at your words, and he looked back to you with shame. "Shit. Sorry."

You shrugged. "That'll depend on how grumpy they are this morning."

A short silence followed your words, and Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair, and you watched him closely, eyes lingering on his bruises. The injuries looked fresh, and it made you wonder why he was here instead of resting at home.

"Are you okay?" You asked gently before you could stop yourself.

Steve looked at you in surprise. "Huh?"

"Your... face," you said, gesturing to your own. "Seems like you're hurt. Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine, but that doesn't matter," he said quickly, seeming ashamed of whatever it was.  "What matters is what I came here to do, which is to say sorry for the other day."

You raised your eyebrows. "What did you do the other day?"

"You know, when we were talking and Tommy and Carol came over," said Steve, confused on why you were asking about the obvious until he realised you weren't playing dumb, you just wanted him to admit what he did wrong. "And then they were being assholes and I didn't do anything about it."

"Is that it?"

Steve's eyebrows knitted together as he seemed to search his mind for anything else. "I think so?"

You hummed quietly, keeping your face blank as you looked him over. You quickly noticed how something about him was off — not just the bruises and cuts on his face, but the way he held himself, the defeated look in his eyes that wasn't there before. You couldn't put your finger on it, but something in the air around Steve had shifted, and it made your curiosity grow stronger about whatever the hell had happened in the past few days that caused that and the bruises.

Steve sighed, his head hanging low as he said, "look, I know I messed up. I know that wasn't right of me and it wasn't fair to you, and you had to defend yourself which you shouldn't have had to because I shouldn't have let them treat you like that in the first place. If it's any help, it didn't feel good during that moment."

You scoffed. "It didn't feel good for me either."

The guilt in Steve's eyes strengthened, and he looked at you sorrowfully. "I'm really sorry. You didn't deserve that, after everything you've done for me-"

"Actually, it's okay Steve. We're not friends anyway, you don't owe me anything," you snapped.

Steve's face fell slightly like you had struck him. "That was stupid of me to say. I was trying to get them to back off of you, you know? They wouldn't have taken it well if I said yes, they would've been even worse."

"That's such a lame excuse. They were going to make fun of me no matter what you said, so you're just telling yourself that to feel better," you said sourly. "You're just like... I don't know, ashamed of me or something?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm not-"

"Then what do you call it? You're only nice to me when we're alone, and you're embarrassed to be seen with me in public. That's why you didn't want me to tutor you in the library. You literally said it yourself, you didn't want anyone to walk in and see," you poured out what had been pent up inside you through this whole ordeal. "You never acknowledged me in public until that moment for some reason, and even then, you said I was just a stranger."

"I know, I know, it was shitty of me. I shouldn't have- I'm really sorry," said Steve, and the worst part about it was how sincere he sounded, how real the apology seemed to be.

But you knew it would go back to normal after this, and with the last few days having given you room to think about it, you knew you couldn't go for any longer. Not with your feelings for him growing stronger everyday.

"I don't think this arrangement is necessary anymore," you said with a tight throat, avoiding his gaze as you said it. But even in your peripheral vision, you could see how his face dropped.

"What? But I still need to be tutored! I- I still need your help," said Steve frantically.

"There are other tutors at school, you can just go to them if you really need help," you said. "Also, didn't you say you could get your girlfriend to tutor you? She'll be happy to help."

Steve's expression shifted into something more hurt as he looked at his feet. "I'm not sure that's so true anymore. I'm not her favourite person right now."

Your chest tightened, and you finally looked at him, reading his crestfallen expression. Was that the reason why he looked like that? Because him and Nancy were arguing? You had a nagging feeling that there was much more to it, but you weren't going to push. You were too mad at him to do so anyway.

"Even then, I'm not the only tutor in the world. Besides, from what I've heard, you'll be just fine without tutoring anyway," you said bitterly.

Confused spread across Steve's features. "From what you've heard?"

"Yes. I'm not sure why I had to hear it from someone else that you had literally passed your science test, and got a good grade on your English assignment."

Steve's eyes widened slightly. "You- who told you that?"

"The science teacher."

"Why would she even tell you that? Oh my god..." Steve murmured, pressing his hands to his face.

"That doesn't matter, Steve. What matters is that for some reason you decided to hide the fact that you were improving," you scolded. "You neglected to tell your literal tutor that you had passed in two subjects!"

"I... forgot," said Steve unconvincingly.

You snorted humourlessly. "I don't think you did, and I don't even want to ask why you didn't tell me because you'll probably just give me another stupid excuse."

You were mainly pissed off at Steve for the way he had treated you in front of Tommy and Carol the other day, that was what drove the wedge between you two in the first place, but him not telling you about his good results had been the final straw. Because those had been moments he was meant to share with you, because you had been the one to help him. He was supposed to approach with you excitement like Tyler had done, and he was supposed to brag about his results to you with a wide smile while you were silently proud of him.

You had been eager for that moment between you and Steve, but because of some reason that was unknown to you, he hadn't told you, and had robbed you of that moment.

So yeah, you were very pissed.

"So you're ditching me because I didn't tell you about two decent grades I got?" Said Steve, and you couldn't help but notice the hurt that seeped through his voice. You hated how it sparked guilt in you.

Yet, you stood your ground. "I told you that all you needed to do was pass one test, and you could be free of me. Did you just forget that?"

Steve's Adam's apple bobbed, his jaw tight. "No."

"Then why didn't you just tell me? I know you hate being tutored, so why did you drag it out?" You asked heatedly, your pent up frustration spilling out. You stared at him expectantly, impatiently waiting for his answer.

But he only stared back at you, his mouth opening uselessly with nothing coming out, his eyes holding a desperate look that tugged at your chest, that almost made you give in. But you fought back against it, and scoffed at his silence.

"There's no reason to keep doing this, Steve," you said, your voice weaker.

"But I still need help with my other subjects," said Steve quietly.

"You know how to study now, and you can help yourself. I've given you a little push, so now you can be independent," you reasoned. "And look at the bright side, you'll have free time on Wednesdays and Sundays now."

"But I..." he trailed off, and your heart skipped a beat as you thought he was finally about to speak, finally about to admit something.

But he chose not to say it, and continued with his silence.

You gazed at his face, taking in each detail of his features, memorising it for when you would think about him at night, when you wouldn't see him anymore. The softness of his dark hazel eyes, the moles scattered on his face, and his stupid perfect hair that you longed to feel with your own fingers.

"It really was nice tutoring you Steve, but I've done my job now," you said softly, sending him your first smile of the day, and your last for a while.

He looked at you with sadness, something close to devastation, but not quite there. Because maybe Steve Harrington was fond of you in the way he was fond of your mother's cookies, but he nowhere near cared about you in the way he cared about Nancy Wheeler.

And that's why you turned your back to him, walking inside your house without looking back at him, even when you heard the small, desperate "please," leave his lips.

all comments and reblogs appreciated!

He said that he had work, that he had promised Mrs Jones he would babysit her son, that he had to look after someone's dog.

But Katherine Harrington took no excuses. She'd tell Steve to cancel his babysitting appointments, and simply said she'd reschedule every time Steve had work.

Soon enough, he realised there was no way of evading it, so he gave in and decided to get it over and done with.

Steve's parents were rarely home, even everyone else around Hawkins knew this. They were always on business trips, leaving Steve alone in their big, lonely house. Steve grew used to it, actually preferring it when they were gone, because the air grew awkward whenever they were around, and Steve always had to find a way to go out just so he could escape it.

For some reason, his mother, Katherine, seemed to have had enough of the awkwardness, and demanded that she, Steve, and his father have a family dinner.

What made it even worse was that she had made a whole reservation at Enzo's, which was a very hard place to book at. People had to book months beforehand to even get a reservation, so he had no idea how his mom had done it on such a short notice, but he was annoyed that she did.

Now he was sitting across from his parents, purposely keeping his gaze on the menu even though he had already figured out what he wanted to get. The table was illuminated with a candle placed in the centre, casting a warm glow, a stark contrast to the coldness between the three of them.

They hadn't even ordered yet, and Steve was already ready to leave.

"Good evening! Sorry for the wait, we had a small delay in the back."

Steve looked up, and did a double take.

A wide smile adorned your face, your eyes bright as you beamed around the table. You wore a short-sleeved black dress, with white buttons down the middle and a white collar, clearly your waitress uniform. Your hair was tied up into a style that suit you perfectly, your hands tucked behind your back like you were cheekily hiding something.

Steve didn't know why, but his heart skipped a beat, and when your eyes met his for only a split second, it quickened.

"Are we all ready to order?" You asked.

Katherine looked at Steve who nodded, and then at Daniel Harrington, who made sure to sigh before placing his menu down. It was obvious he didn't want to be here as well.

Katherine gave her order first, smiling politely at your cheerful tone. Then Dan ordered with a monotone voice, not caring for your friendliness.

When you turned to Steve expectantly, a flush creeped up his neck, and he hoped to God you couldn’t see it. He didn’t even know why he was acting like this. He had seen plenty of pretty girls in his lifetime, so why were you making him sweat just by asking what food he wanted?

“Can I please have the Chicken Vesuvio?” Steve said, immensely grateful that his voice was steady.

“Good choice,” you winked, writing his order down on your little notepad, and Steve’s heart skipped a beat again.

When you walked away, Steve watched, and he almost frowned when he could no longer see your face. Perhaps he was just desperate for anything interesting while he had this stupid dinner with his parents he barely talked to. He could appreciate his mother’s efforts on paper, but he really didn’t know why she thought this was going to fix anything.

The table fell into an awkward silence as no one looked at each other, and Steve started brainstorming for an excuse to leave early.

“So, how’s your job going, Steve?” Katherine asked, and Steve was annoyed that he was the first target.

“It’s steady,” Steve answered, because there was nothing else really to say. Family Video was different from Scoops Ahoy, not as busy, and the quiet days that dragged on did drive him insane, but he generally didn’t mind it.

“So you’d prefer steady over college?” Dan remarked coldly, arching an eyebrow.

The air shifted, and Steve’s jaw tightened. He’d already heard enough about how much of a disappointment he was to his father, and he didn’t want to hear about it right now.

“Danny, don’t,” said Katherine sharply. “This is a family dinner.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it,” Steve murmured.

“What was that?” Dan asked, inquiring Steve with an intimidating stare.

“Nothing,” said Steve, rolling his eyes.

Dan suddenly pointed a finger at him, saying sternly, “don’t roll your eyes at me. You don’t got enough accomplishments for me to be proud of you to be doing that.”

“Dan!” Katherine gasped.

“Jesus Christ, you need to stop ordering me around like I’m still a kid,” said Steve in exasperation. “I can do whatever the hell I want?”

Dan’s nostrils flared. “Yeah? Is that so? You’re a big adult now who doesn’t need his parents?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” said Steve defiantly.

“Then you should stop taking your time and move out,” Dan snapped.

“Daniel, that’s enough!” Katherine exclaimed, causing a few heads to turn in her direction. She lowered her voice, “there is no place of any of this tonight. We are supposed to be enjoying ourselves.”

“Hard to do so with my failure of a son around,” Dan scoffed.

Despite how many times he had heard it, it was still like a punch to Steve’s gut every time.

Someone cleared their throat, and when Steve looked over, mortification flooded him at once as he found you standing there, holding two plates of hot food.

“Um, the Porchetta and Skirt Steak Saltimbocca?” You named the dishes you were holding tentatively, sensing the tension.

Steve didn’t dare to look at you as you gave his parents their food. He knew that if he did, you would probably be holding a look of pity, and that was the last thing he needed. He wondered how long you had been standing there, and his embarrassment strengthened the more that he thought about it.

He was simultaneously relieved and disappointed when you walked away. Even though you hadn’t been beaming anymore, your presence still made the night more tolerable, even slightly. Now that you were gone, his parents would drop the polite facade, and the arguing would start again.

“I am not asking for much!” Said Katherine heatedly, looking between Steve and his dad. “Just one pleasant family dinner. You two don’t even need to talk to each other if that will keep the peace, just…”

“I don’t see how doing this helps any of us,” said Steve with an edge to his voice.

“I want all of us to be reminded that we’re a family. That we all love each other,” said Katherine firmly.

Dan actually let out a laugh at the absurdity of it, and Katherine glared at it.

“Why do you always have to be like this? You make a comment, and then everyone is uncomfortable,” Katherine snapped at him.

“Oh, so this is my fault? You’re the one who dragged all of us out tonight against our will. You’re the only one who wants this,” Dan shot back.

Steve sighed as his parents argued, resting his elbows on the table as he rubbed his temples. This was a disaster that he had seen coming from a mile away. He didn’t know how his parents tolerated each other on the business trips they were always on. He wasn’t sure if he had ever heard them agree about anything.

“Son, tell me, is this my fault?” Dan demanded, turning to Steve as if his answer would solve the whole argument.

“Leave him out of this,” said Katherine with annoyance.

“No, let him answer the question. Is tonight my fault, or hers?” Dan asked firmly, fixing Steve with a menacing stare, as if the wrong answer would be his doom.

“I…” Steve’s gaze flicked between his mom and dad, and the strong urge to leave washed over him. He felt like a little kid again, where his dad would always try to force him to take a side while his mom would tell him not to answer. He felt so small, and he hated it, he hated it so much. After all that he had been through, he refused to feel like this.

“Answer the damn question-”

“A Chicken Vesuvio for the young man?” Your voice came loudly, and Steve looked up instantaneously, relief washing over him at your presence.

“Yes. Thank you,” he said breathlessly, staring at you as you placed his plate of food in front of him.

You looked at him, and smiled. It wasn’t sympathetic, it wasn’t pitiful, it wasn’t even sad. It was just a normal, warm smile with kindness radiating from it, meant for him and him only, and Steve’s chest warmed.

“Enjoy your meal,” you said softly, gazing into your eyes as you said it. The warmth left your eyes as you glanced at Dan, frowning a little with distaste before walking away.

This time, you looked over your shoulder to find Steve looking right back at you.

The table fell silent again, the tension thick and heavy in the air, capable of being sliced straight through with a knife. Steve poked at his food, finding that he had lost his appetite a long time ago. He realised he needed a break.

He excused himself to the bathroom, and didn’t look at either of his parents as he briskly walked away from the table. He didn’t go to the bathroom, instead taking a door that led him outside into an alleyway beside the building.

Steve let out a breath he had been holding in as he leaned his back against the building, savouring the fresh air that wasn’t poisoned with the toxicity of his parents. He didn’t know what his mom meant by all of them loving each other, because that just wasn’t true. Dan and Katherine sure didn’t love each other, and Steve didn’t think he and Dan loved each other like a father and a son were supposed to. Maybe Katherine and Steve loved each other, but they still struggled to hold a conversation, so it didn’t matter.

Steve had quit smoking, and hadn’t craved a cigarette for a while. But God, what he would do right now to get his hands on one…

He jumped as the door opened again, and his head whirled around as you stepped out, holding a rubbish bag. You didn’t see him at first, busying yourself by walking over to one of the bins, and dumping the bag into there. You finally saw him when you turned around, and you let out a squeak of surprise.

Despite the shitty night he was having, Steve smiled at your reaction.

“Oh, hi,” you said, smiling sheepishly. “I didn’t realise you were out here.”

“Sorry, am I not allowed?” Steve asked sincerely.

“No, you’re okay! I’m guessing that you needed a getaway from…”

“From the train wreck that is my family? Yeah?” Said Steve with a dry chuckle.

“I don’t blame you,” you said without thinking, and winced, “sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re right,” Steve sighed.

You pressed your lips together, and Steve gazed at you, like he had done every time you were in his sight. You seemed to be around his age, but he found you unfamiliar, which was strange since Hawkins was a small town where everyone knew everyone. Especially since he worked at Family Video, he would regularly see people your age come in to rent movies and such.

“I’m Steve,” he said out of nowhere, and cringed a bit. God, he must’ve sounded desperate.

But you only smiled earnestly, telling him your own name, and even that was pretty. “Sorry about your parents, Steve.”

“Yeah, well, I wish I could say I’m surprised by their behaviour, but I’m not,” said Steve.

You leaned against the wall beside him. “At least you know what to expect, right?”

Steve blinked, tilting his head slightly at you. “Yeah. Y’know, I don’t find you familiar. How long have you been living in Hawkins?”

“Not long,” you said with a shy chuckle, and he found it cute. “I’ve recently moved here, and I’m still trying to find my way around, y’know. Enzo’s pays enough, so…”

“Huh,” said Steve. That made sense, you were now. That was probably why when you smiled, it looked genuine and not tired. He hoped Hawkins didn’t plan to drain the life out of you. “You live with your parents?”

“Uh, no, and it’s better off that way,” you said, and Steve perked up curiously. “Kinda moved here to get away from them.”

Steve stared at you. So you must’ve understood what it was like.

“All of that, at your table… I kinda get it,” you said, giving him a soft smile. “It sucks, but I think once you get away from it, it becomes better. My life is a whole lot easier already, even if I now have to pay rent and buy groceries with my own money.”

Steve laughed, and he didn’t know why, but he did, and you laughed as well, seeming pleased at the smile you were getting out of him.

“Think I’ll move out soon,” said Steve. “Dad wants me to.”

“Whether you do or not, screw him,” you said, and he looked at you in surprise, but you didn’t seem to regret it. “He’s obviously not a good father, and that’s on him, not you.”

Steve’s heart fluttered, his breath catching slightly. No one told him things like that. All he ever heard about was that it was his fault, how he should’ve done things better, how he should’ve tried better. But you… you didn’t look at him like he was to blame, and that meant more than Steve realised it would’ve.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

“No problem,” you said warmly. You gazed into each other’s eyes for a moment before you pushed yourself off the wall, brushing invisible dirt off your skirt. “Well, I should head back inside. I am getting paid for this, you know.”

Steve snorted, and you smiled cheekily.

“Good luck, Steve,” you said sincerely, and you turned around too quickly, heading for the door.

Watching you move, Steve realised he didn’t want to lose this.

He said your name hurriedly just as your hand brushed the door, and you looked at him, raising your eyebrows slightly as you waited patiently for what he had to say.

“Can I get your number?” Steve asked. “Just- y’know, not in a weird way, not that it’d be weird if- well, you might need someone to show you around, and I’d be happy to do that. I’m quite an expert, y’know.”

God, he used to be good at this. How had he come to this?

His heart lifted as a grin spread on your face, happiness filling your eyes.

“I’ll give it to you later,” you said, winking at him before you opened the door, and disappeared, leaving Steve in the night.

At the end of the night, Steve left with a lighter wallet, having tipped you generously, and a napkin with your number scribbled on it.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Peter hated spring.

But he hadn't always. No, he used to actually love spring, because someone else had once helped him to see the true beauty in the season, in the flowers that bloomed.

But he didn't have that person anymore. He didn't have anyone, so what was the point?

Now, he dreaded spring. Now, the warm feeling in his chest he used to get from it was replaced with an ache, filled with a longing for something that seemed like a lifetime ago. The blooming nature only served as a reminder, rubbing it in his face that everything he had was gone.

He couldn't wait for the season to end.

He walked past a florist shop everyday on his daily route through New York. He noticed that the shop had become busier ever since spring had started, with citizens staring at the vibrant and colourful flowers displayed in front of the shop. Multiple times, he had to hold back from stopping and looking himself.

He refused to stop at the florist shop, to even hover there. He was too afraid of the risk, the risk of running into the owner of the store who he observed as easily as breathing. How you arranged your flowers in the early morning inside the store, playing soft music in the background while you existed in your own world. How your eyes lit up when someone walked in, how you laughed whenever talking with a customer, how you charmed a flower to look more beautiful with a golden glow beneath your hands when you thought no one was looking, how you always launched into precise detail whenever you were asked questions about a certain flower.

And most of all, he noticed the yellow dahlia necklace you still wore. The necklace your hand still played around with, whether you were conscious of it or if it was just an instinct. He had given you that necklace, so he wondered how warped your memory had been about receiving it.

He didn't think you had ever noticed him before, not like you used to. You would barely spare him a glance now.

It hurt for it to be that way, to have things change so drastically, but with time, he had accepted that his wounds from it would never be tended to. Just as long as you were never inflicted with another wound of your own again, he was okay with his unhealed ones, and he could settle for watching from afar.

But then he came across an obstacle that challenged his decision of keeping a distance from you. When he was taking his usual route and reached the part of passing the florist shop, you were there.

You were always there, but this time, you were right there. You were standing outside the shop, adjusting the flower placements on the displays at your storefront. The morning sun beamed down on you, highlighting the shine in your hair.

Peter halted in his tracks, his heart doing a backflip. He looked around frantically to see if there was another way of passing without being so close to you, but the next pedestrian crossing wasn't until the next intersection, and the last one he had passed was a few minutes away, and he really didn't feel like turning around and taking so much time just to avoid you.

You didn't remember him. He was completely erased from your mind, why would you bat an eye if he walked by? He would just be another citizen to you.

So he shoved his hands into his pockets, kept his head down, and continued straight forward, quickening his step to walk past you as quickly as possible.

With his gaze glued to the ground, he couldn't see the way yours flicked to him and stayed there.

He was someone you saw often. One of those strangers that you somehow always spotted in a bustling city, a stranger you never acknowledged. He always walked past your shop, and you were pretty sure he always looked in, but he had never once stepped foot inside. You wondered if he wasn't a flower person, or if he just never had any special occasions to buy flowers for.

Because something you always took notice of was that he looked sad. It was easy to spot in his face. The weight he carried in his eyes like he was hiding a heavy burden, the exhaustion lining his features, the timidity in his body language like he was trying to make himself smaller.

You don't know why you always noticed him. Many people walked past your shop everyday, lots looked and never walked in, and he had done nothing in particular to be different from the others. But whenever you saw him, you always felt a strange tug in your chest, and it proved a challenge to tear your eyes away from him, like he was some sort of magnet. It felt like you could tell what kind of mood he was in just by taking one look at him, like that was something you had grown familiar with, which didn't make sense because you had never met him before.

You were pretty sure you had never met him before, but your gut quietly told you otherwise. You always ignored it, because what did it know?

And suddenly, he was right there. Walking past you, shoulder nearly brushing against yours as he passed, and it felt like you had actually made contact with the way you shivered.

You were in the middle of handling a bouquet of yellow dahlias, rearranging some of the flower displays in front of your ship. You looked down at the flowers in your hands, and then back to the man who was now walking away from you.

Your mouth moved before your mind could think.

"Excuse me!" You called out, and the man immediately stops in his tracks, clearly having heard you.

For one embarrassing moment, you thought he was going to ignore you and keep walking until he slowly turned around, a cautious look on his face like he wasn't sure if you were talking to him. When he met your direct gaze, surprise flickered across his face, his eyes visibly softened in a way that felt like it was meant just for you.

"Sorry to bother you, I just..." you said, now regretting calling for him as you fumbled around nervously with the flowers in your hand until you were just holding one. You approached him with the flower, and hesitated a moment before holding it out for him to take. "Here, this is for you."

He blinked, the surprise intensifying on his face as his eyes flitted between you and the flowers. "What?"

"It's for you," you repeated softly, sending him a kind smile.

"The flower? Oh, um... how much for it?" He asked.

Your smile widened. "Well, it depends on the customer. But in your case, it's on the house."

His eyes widened. "Oh, wow. That's really kind of you, but I couldn't possibly take that."

"Please, I insist," you said, even without knowing yourself why you were insisting. "Unless you don't like this kind of flower? I can get you a different one-"

"No, that's okay. I don't want to make you go through any more trouble," he said hastily, and you let out a soft chuckle, your chest fluttering in a way that felt vaguely familiar.

Since he still wasn't taking the flower, you took matters into your own hands and reached forward to place it into his chest pocket. He jerked slightly, startled by your advances. You quickly pulled away at the fear of making him uncomfortable while he stared at the flower now tucked into his chest pocket.

"It's a yellow dahlia," you informed him with a soft smile. "Lovers used to get those when they reunited."

You weren't sure why you told him such an intimate fact, and you didn't even know why you were giving him a free flower in the first place. You never really gave people flowers on the house anymore ever since your business had started booming, but it felt different with him. Like he had done more to deserve it. Perhaps you had just wanted to brighten his day since he looked so sad. Perhaps it was more, a more you couldn't remember.

You couldn't read the intense look in his eyes as he stared at you, his expression having changed when you told him about the lovers reuniting. You couldn't tell if you had said the wrong thing, and you really hoped you hadn't, because there was something about this man that made you want him to like you even though you had just met, even if it didn't feel like your first time meeting.

He cleared his throat abruptly, breaking your gaze as he turned his head away, and you swore that his eyes looked glassy for a second.

"Thank you for the flower, but I should get going now. Good luck with everything Y/N," he said softly, glancing at you again before he turned around and walked off at a brisk pace, his head hanging low.

You blinked at his abrupt departure, your curiosity piqued as you watched him leave, your chest feeling weirdly warm from the interaction in a good way.

Then you realised something.

You had never told him your name.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Dividers by: @hearts4mychem and @cursed-carmine

He was lucky it was the weekend, which meant he didn't have to call in sick to work for the millionth time. They were starting to get suspicious of him now, and he knew he really couldn't afford to lose his job. Even as a superhero, he still struggled to make ends meet.

It was late at night by the time Peter returned to his apartment, finally being able to change out of his spandex suit he had been wearing all day. He took a long, warm shower, soothing the blooming bruises on his skin and washing his flattened hair. He left his small bathroom wearing only sweatpants, his towel draped around his neck as he flopped onto his bed, groaning as he relaxed his limbs for the first time that day.

He reached over to grab his phone on his bedside table, where he had accidentally left it before leaving to go defend the city from criminals. He had known it was a stupid thing to do, and he had intended to come back to his apartment to grab it multiple times during the day, but every time he had started to head back, he would see another kid walking onto the busy streets with no supervision, or another old lady who had her purse being stolen from her, and he simply had to go help them instead, further stalling the return to his apartment.

He frowned at his phone as the screen lit up, revealing multiple missed calls from you.

You, his beautiful, amazing girlfriend who he loved so much, who he thought was way too good for him, who he was lucky enough to have in his life. You had been dating for almost two years now, and without you, Peter's life surely would've been much more unbearable. He would have thought more about you today if he hadn't always been so occupied with fighting off multiple guys who had no chance on him, but there was always that sinking feeling in his stomach every time he was out being Spider-man, the feeling of missing you and craving your presence.

Peter grew concerned immediately upon seeing your missed calls, unlocking his phone to see that they had started at nine o'clock in the morning. It was now nearly eleven o'clock at night. His heart dropped, and he scrambled to call you back, pressing the phone to his ear as he swung his legs over to sit on the edge of his bed, one of his legs bouncing with anxiety.

His eyebrows drew together as the call went straight to voicemail, pulling the phone back to frown at the screen. Panic washed over him in a strong wave, horrible thoughts and scenarios racing through his mind.

Were you okay? Had something happened to you? Had you tried to call him, your superhero boyfriend whose identity you knew about, to come and save you because that was what he was supposed to? There had been so much crime happening today, and it could've reached you as well.

He swore to himself as he jumped to his feet, heart pounding in his chest as he ran over to grab his Spider-Man suit, about to pull down his sweatpants until he noticed the date on his phone.

The fucking date.

"No. No, no, no," Peter murmured, a different kind of panic rising in him as he rushed over to his cabinets, searching for a fresh shirt now.

He tossed his phone onto his bed, guilt immediately clawing at his chest as he threw on a T-shirt. He fell over while putting his shoes on hastily, his movements uncoordinated as he grabbed his keys and bolted out the door, locking it behind him.

He raced to the rooftop, and without caring if anyone saw him or not, he jumped from building to building without stopping, having to use his webs once to swing across the street, all with the intention of getting to your apartment building as quickly as possible.

He didn't waste time in barging through the door leading downstairs once he made it to the rooftop of your building, descending the stairs in a flash, his feet moving faster than his mind.

He panted heavily as he made it to your closed door, taking a moment to catch his breath before he knocked on it rapidly. He waited a minute with no response, and knocked again before saying your name, "it's me, Peter."

No response again, and the silence you gave him this time felt glaringly louder. Which, he knew you were on the other side of the door, because he could sense you thanks to his heightened senses.

He sighed, pressing his forehead against the door. "I'm so sorry, honey, can we please just talk? I just had this crazy day, and I know it doesn't make it right-"

Peter nearly fell forward when the door abruptly swung open, revealing your glowering figure with one hand on your hip.

"You're damn right it doesn't make it right, and don't you honey me," you snapped, and Peter swallowed, the guilt increasing tenfold as he took in your appearance.

Even though you radiated fury, he could still see your glassy, bloodshot eyes, the sadness that swirled in them, indicating that you had been crying. Peter's heart nearly shattered. He hated seeing you like this, especially since it was because of him now.

"I'm so sorry," he said sincerely, his voice on the verge of breaking. He reached out for you, "please-"

You slapped his hands away from you, your nostrils flaring. "You know, a text wouldn't have hurt. Just a little happy birthday would've made me feel good, and when you didn't say anything, I excused it. I thought, you are Spider-Man after all, the work never really stops for you. But we had plans, Peter, and for you to not even warn me was really shitty. No text, no call, nothing. I just sat there, waiting for you like an idiot, thinking that there was no way my own boyfriend would stand me up, but then he did. On my fucking birthday."

Peter felt like he had been slapped, and he deserved it. Your voice broke, and you looked away, seemingly hiding your teary eyes from him even though he had already seen it. His heart ached, and he so desperately wanted to pull you into his warms, to apologise profusely into your ear and kiss your forehead, to tell you how much he loved you and how much of an idiot he was.

But he knew you wouldn't allow it, not now. Not when he had hurt you so much.

"I feel horrible baby, I'm so sorry," Peter almost whispered, tears welling up in his own eyes. "It's not fair to you, not at all. I was out all day, and I accidentally left my phone in my apartment, and I had no opportunity to grab it, because everything else kept pulling me away. I know it's no excuse, but you at least deserve an explanation. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I really am."

"So you really couldn't just find a second to grab your phone and send me a quick text? If you had just told me how crazy it all was, I would have seen it coming! I would have made other plans!" You exclaimed. "But instead I wasted hours on my birthday I should've been celebrating, because I was waiting for you, all because you couldn't take a second out of your day to let me know what was happening."

Peter ran a hand through his hair, taking a step closer, now standing in your doorway. His chest tightened at the way you took a step back at the same time, as if he was poisonous.

"And I'm so sorry, I didn't want to do that to you. I didn't mean to, and I hate myself for it," he said, voice wound tight as he held back the urge to touch you, to wipe away the singular tear rolling down your cheek.

"Well, good job, Pete. Best birthday of my life," you said sarcastically, scoffing.

"Let me make it up to you. I'll take you out, I'll spend the rest of the night with you, I'll-"

"Barely any shops would be open by now, Peter! And there's only like an hour left of my birthday, so it doesn't even matter anymore!"

"Then I'll spend the whole day with you tomorrow, and I'll do whatever you want-"

"No," you said sharply, and he almost flinched. "I don't think I can be around you right now. I need space, Peter."

"No, please," Peter begged, his voice finally breaking. "Please let me fix this, let me make it up to you. I'll show you how sorry I am, I'll do anything."

"Then you'll leave me alone for as long as I need it. I'm not breaking up with you or anything, I just... I need space," you repeated, emphasising it.

Peter stared at you as if you had just told him the world was about to end, and you gently pushed back by his chest so that you could safely close your door.

"You're just too late, Peter," you said quietly, the anger now having seeped out of your features, and the look in your eyes nearly broke Peter as you slammed the door in his face.

Peter's chest heaved as he stared at the wood of your door, and he swore under his breath, forehead falling onto the door again as he closed his eyes.

"I love you," he whispered.

He didn't hear your voice again for the rest of the night.

***

You didn't speak to Peter a week afterwards, and in that meantime, he had been drowning in guilt.

It didn't matter how much he explained himself to you, it would still make what he had done terrible all the same. The thought of you sitting alone for hours, waiting for him and expecting him to show up all on your own birthday made him sick. Birthdays were meant to be spent celebrating with the people you loved, not waiting alone while being under the impression that your boyfriend would come pick you up for your plans, only to be stood up by him.

Peter had seriously hated being Spider-Man before, but nothing could compare to the loathing he had for his double life now. His superhero duties had caused him to miss out on your dates before, but in the past, he had never failed to call you beforehand to tell you with sadness how he couldn't come. He had never forgotten and actually stood you up before.

Peter didn't know where he would be without you. From the moment you had found out he was Spider-Man, you had been there ever since. You had stitched him up after bad fights, you had comforted him in his times of guilt when there were people he hadn't been able to save. You had never let him down, and now he had hurt you in return.

You had said that you weren't breaking up, that you only needed space, but Peter's heart hurt enough that it felt like that's what it had been, a break-up. He couldn't get the image of your heartbroken expression out of his head, couldn't forget your red rimmed eyes and the obvious implications that you had been crying because of him.

He wished he knew how to make it truly better, how to mend the pain he had caused you that day. But it was nothing that could be fixed with a simple kiss, he knew that. He had been the one who had brought up the plans to you, his idea to pick you up and give you the night of your life on your birthday. You had been so excited for it, asking him excitedly what you should wear and what exactly you were going to do.

And he had burned all of that down, with only himself to blame.

Peter obeyed your wishes with the distance; not coming over to your apartment to beg you to talk, resisting the urge to bump into you on your lunch break during the week just to plead with you once again. He could see you walking around the city sometimes as Spider-Man, and he would discreetly follow you — not because he was being creepy, but because he wanted to make sure you made it to your destination safely, and also because he missed you. You would probably kill him if you knew, so it was a good thing you never noticed him.

However, he still texted you even when you never answered. He would send through a simple hi, watching the screen to see if you would reply, if it would even show you typing. Sometimes he would say that he was sorry, that he missed you, and in his worst hours, he would tell you how much he loved you.

You left him on read every time.

He didn't dare try to call you. He knew that was another line that he wasn't supposed to cross, but it didn't mean he still didn't consider it.

Peter felt, and probably looked miserable as he walked through the streets of New York as a normal civilian. It was the weekend once again, meaning he had a day off work, and this time his day was quiet, the modified police scanner on his phone significantly quieter than last week. It pissed him off, because why couldn't it have been this quiet last week? Why had all of the criminals in New York decided to go crazy on your birthday?

He spotted the coffee shop he usually visited every weekend, weekends he would spend with you, hand laced with yours while you would walk through the streets together. You would pull him into the coffee shop which was your personal favourite, and after you took your order, you both liked to fight over who would pay for it. In the end, Peter would always end up winning, ruffling your hair and kissing your cheek to soothe the little irritated pout on your face that had no real bite to it.

He wondered if you had already collected your usual coffee today, without him.

As if summoning you, Peter halted in his tracks as lo and behold, you walked out of the shop, coffee cup in hand as the wind blew through your hair, framing you like you were a model.

Peter's heart skipped a beat, and it almost felt like he was seeing you for the first time again.

You took a sip of your coffee, and then turned your head towards him like you had sensed him. You locked eyes, and he watched the way your face fell, something sad passing over your face as you stared at him.

When you turned away, Peter couldn't stop himself from sprinting to you, all too easy to catch up to you with his impeccable speed thanks to the spider that had bit him. He called your name as he came to a halt behind you, and you stopped, your shoulders moving as if you were sighing before you slowly turned to him.

"Hey," was all he could say, slightly breathless.

"Hi," you said flatly, unimpressed.

He swallowed, already wanting to fall to his knees to prove how sorry he was, but you probably wouldn't appreciate that anyway.

"Can we talk?" He asked softly.

"Seems like we're talking right now," you said dryly.

"Right, yeah, well..." Peter scratched his neck. He hadn't expected to run into you today, but he had gone over the scenario multiple times in his mind, planning exactly what he would say. Now that he was actually face-to-face with you, his mind went blank, and he was at a complete loss. So he went for, "I miss you."

Something vulnerable flickered in your eyes, and you looked down as you said quietly, "yeah, I saw your texts."

"If you need more space, then I completely respect that, but this is killing me baby," Peter said desperately. "It's been a whole week without you, and I feel like shit. I know I deserve it, but not being around you is the worst. I just wanna make it up to you."

You still stared down at your feet as you said honestly, "I want you to make it up to me too, Peter, but I don't know how you can," you looked up, a sigh leaving you. "Maybe if it had been any ordinary day, I would've gotten over it by now, but on my birthday? I just can't forget that."

"I know, I know," he said understandingly. "It was so shitty of you, and you were right about it all, I should've at least told you I couldn't make it so that you could've figured out something else to do with your night instead of waiting for me. I hate that I disappointed you like that."

You took another sip of your coffee, your expression grim as you still didn't look at him.

"But we can take it step by step, yeah?" Peter suggested hopefully. "I'll do everything I can, I'll take you out on a million dates for that one night, and I'll buy you whatever you want even if it drains my savings."

He felt a flicker of triumph in his chest as the corners of your lips twitched upwards. He took a step forward, and you didn't push him back this time, finally looking at him.

"I'm so sorry for everything. For forgetting your birthday and standing you up," he said quietly, cupping one of your cheeks with his hand, gazing into your eyes. "I won't ever do that again, and I swear I'll make it up to you.”

Peter thought he had convinced you, but then your eyebrows furrowed, and you took a step back, his hand falling from your cheek.

"You fully forgot it?" You said in disbelief. "Like- you just woke up and didn't realise it was my birthday?"

Peter blinked. "Well- yeah. Didn't you know?"

You scoffed. "No, I didn't know! I thought you only forgot our date, not my actual birthday."

Peter's heart dropped. "If I had realised it was your birthday, I wouldn't have forgotten the date."

"Oh my god, I'm so stupid," you murmured, pressing a hand to your face.

Peter's mind raced with panic. Shit, shit, shit. Had he just made it even worse?

"You're not stupid, I am. I'm so sorry, I thought-"

"I should go," you said, dropping your hand and turning away from him, shaking your hand.

"No, wait!" Peter pleaded, grabbing your arm before you could continue. "Please, don't leave me hanging again."

You let out an incredulous laugh, yanking your arm away from him. "You want to talk about leaving people hanging? Because you seem to have become an expert on that."

Peter's heart flinched, your words a blow, worse than the ones he had received by every criminal in the city.

"From the moment I woke up, it was just nonstop, okay? I didn't have a moment to think, and it was so early in the morning when I had to get up. You know I'm not a morning person," Peter hastily explained. "It doesn't excuse it, but I- I didn't mean to, and I hate myself so much for it-”

"How could you forget?" You asked weakly, your pain written all over your face as you looked at him with teary eyes.

Peter opened his mouth, but he was unable to get anything out. You sniffled, turning your head and walking away from him, leaving him alone on the sidewalk surrounded by the bustle of civilians who had problems of their own.

And this time, he let you.

***

You were even more pissed at Peter, that was clear, and he wasn't sure if you would ever forgive him now, but he had found one loophole.

You hadn't exactly said yes to his hundredth offer of making it up to you, but this time, you hadn't said no either, and Peter would be damned if he let you go again without doing anything about it.

The first thing he did wasn't enough to make you forgive all of it, but hopefully sweet enough to make you smile. He started to deliver flowers to your apartment every single day.

He would wake up early in the morning, get dressed as Spider-Man, and buy your favourite flowers from the floral shop that always gave him a discount when he wore the mask. Then, in true Spider-Man fashion, would sneak into your apartment when you weren't there, and set down the flowers with a handwritten note.

He didn't care if it was too cheesy. In fact, he didn't care if you hated it, he didn't plan on stopping. It would be one of his ways to show you how sorry he was, and how determined he was to earn your forgiveness.

After a week of the flowers, he started bringing along your favourite foods as well. Before you had started dating, you had jokingly told him that the way to your heart was through your stomach, and even though that had been two years ago, he hadn't forgotten it. And the thing was with food, was that you could throw away the flowers every time, but you couldn't waste a necessity like food, especially if it was free.

Sometimes, he would neglect to attach the handwritten notes to the gifts, not because he forgot, but because he would run out of time. But then on other mornings, the notes would go from a cheesy little line to a full paragraph about all of the things he loved about you, from the way you got too easily mad over a game when he would beat you, to the way you took care of him after a long day of being Spider-Man.

And through all of this, you had never told him to stop. You never sent a text, or called him to demand that he stop with his antics, that it was getting too much. Peter knew you, and so he knew that if anything, you would have been enjoying all of it despite how much he had hurt you.

So he never stopped. He even looked forward to collecting all of his gifts for you, to getting a glimpse of your apartment every time he dropped them off, even if your absence always haunted him.

It was after three weeks of this that Peter decided to do a big gesture, something that would be a complete hit or miss. You hadn't told him to stop his antics, but you still weren't willingly talking to him, and he was desperate to hear your voice again.

There was also the present he had gotten for your birthday. The one he had bought before he had foolishly forgotten, before he had ruined what was supposed to be an amazing night for you. He needed you to know that he hadn't completely forgotten, that he had been truly set on going through with your plans.

The sun was starting to set when you were chilling in your apartment, lying in bed with a book in hand as the orange hues of the sky outside cast its golden reflection into your place. You felt completely and utterly relaxed, all problems having blissfully left your mind as you basked in the warmth of the light spilling through your windows while you got immersed into the world that your book had pulled you into.

That was until you felt your phone vibrate on your bedside table, breaking you from your trance, and you sighed, reaching over to grab it and see who it was.

Peter with a heart next to his name.

You blinked, not expecting the call to be from him out of all people. Sure, he had been dropping off gifts and sweet notes by your apartment everyday that you hated to admit made you blush and give you butterflies, but you thought he had taken the sign to leave you alone cellular wise. 

You contemplated your next move, deciding whether the call would be worth it or not, and you thought about it for so long that your phone rang until it stopped, telling you then that you had a missed call. You sighed, feeling the pang of regret inside you for not having answered it, your decision too late.

Then it started to ring again, and your eyes widened, Peter’s name popping up on your phone once more. You waited ten seconds before picking up, slowly moving it to your ear.

“Hello?” You said tentatively, your heart rate already increasing.

“Hi,” said Peter softly, and you hate how easily your heart melted. As much as he had upset you, you missed him so much. “Sorry to bother you, I know I don’t usually call but… I have something important to show you.”

“Is everything okay?” You asked with genuine concern, thinking that this might’ve been one of his serious situations that he frequently faced being Spider-Man.

“Well, yes, but no, since we’re not talking,” said Peter sheepishly, and your lips twitched against your will. “I just… where are you?”

“In my apartment.”

“Great. Um, do you mind looking out the window?”

Your eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Why?”

“Just trust me,” he said, and the words made your heart do a complicated thing. He didn’t know that even though he had really hurt you, you’d still trust him with your life.

“Okay,” you said softly, marking your book page before closing it, climbing out of your bed as you kept the phone to the ear.

You walked over to the large window in your apartment that overlooked the Brooklyn Bridge sat on the East River, a view you had fallen in love with from the moment you had first walked into your apartment.

“Are you looking?” Peter’s voice asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “What am I looking for?”

You heard a small laugh on the other end of the phone. “Are you sure you’re looking hard enough?”

You frowned, about to give him a snappy response until you saw it.

The view of the Brooklyn Bridge in front of you was nothing ordinary as it usually was, not when thin webs were strung up with purpose, the silk of it glistening under the setting sun at certain angles. Your breath hitched as you read what words the webs spelled out.

I LOVE YOU.

“You see it now?” Peter asked, his voice barely registering as you struggled to process the sight in front of you.

“Peter… this was you?” You questioned quietly.

“Of course it was. You know anyone else who can produce webs like that?”

You laughed at the pride in his voice before you could help it, your chest tightening.

“I… that’s too much, Peter,” you said breathlessly. “You could get in trouble for that.”

“What are they gonna do, arrest Spider-Man? And you know how much the police already hate me anyway, what’s a bit of a vandalism?” Said Peter, and you smiled, shaking your head. His voice softened as he said, “can I… come see you? I wanna give you something.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Sure.”

It was only a minute later when Peter’s masked face appeared in front of your window, and you jumped, eyes widening at him.

“Jesus Christ,” you murmured, walking over to unlock a smaller window so that he could climb through, a routine he was used to now with the gifts he delivered to you every morning.

You hung up the call as Peter stood in front of you in your apartment, yanking his mask off as he stared at you, the love palpable in his eyes.

“Hey,” he said.

You smiled weakly. “Hey.”

You moved back over to gaze out at the new view Peter had set up for you, and he followed, his eyes never leaving you.

“I have your birthday gift,” said Peter, and you looked at him in surprise.

“This is my birthday gift?” You asked, gesturing to the bridge.

“No, that’s one of my many apology gifts. Your late birthday gift is in here,” said Peter, shrugging off his backpack and undoing the zip.

You watched in bewilderment as he dug into it, his hand seeming to search for a bit before he pulled a small, square box, dropping his bag.

“I was going to give this to you on our date, but then I was stupid enough to not show up, so here it is now,” said Peter softly, holding it out for you. When you only stared at him in shock, he urged you, “please take it.”

You hesitantly took the box from his hands, wary as you felt up the leather it was made of, and your heart sank as you wondered how much it had cost him.

“Peter-”

“Please just open it,” he pleaded, and you sighed, doing as he said and lifting the lid.

You gasped quietly upon seeing the shiny pearl pendant attached to the silver chain, laid out in the box in a way that told you already that this had come from somewhere important.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed.

Peter smiled. “Yeah? That’s I thought it would go well with you.”

You bit your lip as heat rushed to your cheeks, sending him a look as you stroked the pearl. “Peter, how much did this cost? It’s clearly good quality, and I don’t want you-”

“Don’t worry about that, okay? I knew what I was doing when I bought this, and I don’t regret it,” said Peter firmly, taking a small step forward. There was a pause before he asked, “do you want help putting it on?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes please.”

You carefully took the necklace from the box, handing the delicate piece to Peter as you turned around, moving your hair aside. Your heart fluttered as his rough fingers brushed your neck, draping the chain around your neck as you lifted your hair to keep it out of the way while he worked the clasp, your skin hypersensitive to every caress of his fingers.

His hands slipped away from your neck once he was done, and you felt hollow without it , your skin burning for his touch that you had missed so dearly.

So you spun around, and grabbed his neck to pull him into a fierce kiss.

Peter froze for a moment before he eased into it, hands landing on your waist like muscle memory, and you sighed, relief washing over you as you pressed your lips into his. You poured all of your angry and hurt emotions into the kiss, the tension slowly leaving your body as you did so.

You were both breathless when you pulled away, and Peter kept his forehead on yours, caressing your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

You pecked his lips once. “I forgive you, Peter. You’ve done more than enough to earn it.”

“I think I did what was required of me. I shouldn’t have done that to you,” said Peter, his eyes swimming with guilt as he gazed into your eyes.

You smiled at him. “You shouldn’t have, but you kept to your word by making it up to me. It’s in the past, and just as long as you never do anything like that again…”

“I won’t,” said Peter quickly.

You chuckled. “Then we’re all good. Thank you for not invalidating me that whole time.”

“Why would I when I was in the wrong?” Said Peter, genuinely confused, and your smile widened. Sometimes you couldn’t believe your boyfriend was real, so perfect in ways that made you almost sure you had made him up.

“I missed you,” you confessed.

Peter softly smiled, kissing your cheek. “I missed you too.”

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

The World Cup was on, and it was an exciting game tonight.

Well, for your friend group, it was an exciting game. Okay, so maybe it was just a particularly exciting game in your boyfriend's eyes, but everyone else was still invested.

Wales was playing against Morocco tonight, and the score was currently 1-0, which unfortunately worked out on Morocco's side. But the match had plenty of time left to go, which gave Remus hope.

You were all sat on a table in the corner of the pub, your glasses filled from a recent visit to the bar. You were sitting next to Remus who had the seat closest to the TV, completely engrossed in the match playing out as his leg bounced up and down.

You weren't a big sports person and neither was Remus usually, but there seemed to be something about the Wales team in football that held a special place in his heart. He was quite passionate when it came to them, and it was proven by his reaction every time Wales even touched the ball.

Some of you were invested in the game like Remus was, like James and Sirius who seemed to be in it just to tease Remus, trying to get a reaction out of him by talking about how Morocco was easily going to claim the victory. Remus shot them a few annoyed glares, and when he started to show signs of getting genuinely irritated, you just leaned on him and squeezed his hand, and it would calm him down. James and Sirius called you no fun for keeping him in a good mood, while you just didn't want your boyfriend to be grumpy tonight in bed with you.

You tuned into Lily, Mary, Marlene, and Peter's conversation about the previous matches. Lily bragged about the winning streak England had been on, Mary talked hopefully about Switzerland winning more matches, while Peter and Marlene sulked. Marlene refused to even watch the game as Morocco had recently beat Scotland, and Peter just simply got upset when Norway was mentioned.

While you weren't crazy about the World Cup unlike the certain person sitting next to you who was intently watching the Wales game, you still knew enough to support the team of the country you grew up in, and you were happy with where you were at as your team had only lost one game so far.

Wales had lost and won one game so far, so Remus was especially keen for Wales to win tonight. He had talked nonstop about it on the way to the pub, and you had loved every second of it even if you hadn't fully understood what he was saying. Remus was usually a quieter person, and you were one of the few people he was comfortable enough to ramble around.

You were listening to Mary talk about her favourite player on the Switzerland team when you suddenly felt Remus jump beside you, and a mixture of cheers and boo's coursed through the pub. You looked up at the screen, and watched the replay of Wales scoring a goal.

"I didn't think he was gonna get that one," said James in genuine surprise while Remus looked thrilled, turning to you with a wide smile.

"I told you that guy was gonna get a goal, didn't I?" Said Remus excitedly.

You chuckled. "You did. You should've placed a bet on it-"

You were cut off when Remus surged forward and smashed his lips on yours, startling you with a delightful kiss that only went on for a few seconds before he pulled away.

Everyone laughed at your shocked expression while Sirius wolf whistled, drawing a small laugh out of yourself.

Remus' face flushed. "I'm sorry. That was a bit much-"

"Are you kidding? I have nothing to complain about," you laughed, scooting closer to him even though it was pretty much impossible to get closer with the way your sides were pressed against each other. "Just caught me off guard, love."

Remus smiled and slid an arm around your waist, pecking your cheek before turning back to the TV.

Since the both of you were dating, it wasn't unusual at all to be kissed by Remus. However, your relationship was still fresh as you had only made it official a month ago after years of friendship and months of unresolved tension between you. You were more than familiar with kissing in private, but you were still getting used to actually showing that affection in public, especially since you were so used to being just friends.

So it had been a pleasant surprise when Remus kissed you boldly like that, and you couldn't deny the thrill it had sent rushing through you to be admired loudly in front of everyone to see like that. The thought made you smile, and lean further into Remus' side with his arm secure around you.

You started to watch the game properly now that the scores were even, providing a more suspenseful watch as the teams fought to score the next goal.

Twenty-five minutes passed until the next goal was scored. In those twenty-five minutes, the game had proved to be intense, and not only could you see it, but you could feel it with each time Remus' hand squeezed your waist whenever there was a particularly intense moment in the match. His body was tense with anticipation, and it would lean into yours for comfort. Or he would take a sip from his beer for comfort, either one worked for him. Your stomach exploded with butterflies each time he did so, and you weren't sure if the fluttery feeling would ever go away with him.

Luckily, Wales was the team who scored the third point of the game, and Remus cheered out loud this time, the alcohol in his system eradicating his usual bashfulness in being so vocal.

You thought the first thing Remus would do is boast to the others about how good Wales was playing, or even chug the rest of his beer, but instead, his first instinct seemed to be leaning forward to give you another searing kiss.

You leaned into it this time, smiling against his lips as you reached to caress his jaw. You broke apart when Peter complained, "Moony, please get a room!"

"You get a room," Remus shot back sassily, kicking Peter under the table. You snorted into Remus' chest, and it made him pull you into another kiss.

"You better hope Wales doesn't kick another goal, he might take your clothes off next," Marlene quipped, and the whole table, including yourself, burst into laughter at that. Remus, however, frowned.

"That's for private," said Remus, and it only made the group laugh harder as heat rushed to your cheeks. You buried your face into Remus' arm, your cheeks burning.

No more goals were scored for the rest of the match, but it had still been entertaining regardless as many goals were almost kicked, making it a close game. Either way, Wales won, which seemed to make Remus the happiest man on earth.

The night ended shortly after that, your friends either drunk or tired, ready to go home either way. In your case, you were tired, and Remus was on the fine line between tipsy and actually being drunk.

He was still cooperative as you nearly dragged him out of the pub with your hand linked through his, a warm smile on his face as he rambled on about the highlights of the match while staring solely at you.

“And I tell you what, if Danny Ward hadn’t blocked that goal, I think it would’ve been over for us. We’re going to win this year, I just know it,” said Remus confidently, his words slightly slurred. You hummed in agreement and nodded along as you pulled out your phone, ordering an uber to take you back to his apartment. After a minute of silence from him, he said dreamily, “this was an amazing night.”

"Because your favourite team won?" You said teasingly, still staring at your phone as you checked where your uber was.

"Yes, that, but also," Remus began, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him, lifting your eyes off your screen to look at him, "because I had my favourite girl watching with me."

You blinked at his words, and became flustered immediately, looking away shyly as your cheeks warmed up.

"Yeah, yeah," you said.

"It's true!" Said Remus defensively. "Being with you was the cherry on top. Even if Wales didn't win, it would've been just fine, because I would still have you, and that's all that matters."

Your cheeks were burning once again, and you bit down your smile.

"Look at me, I wanna see you, pretty girl," Remus whined, tilting your face towards him, and you couldn't help but let out a flustered giggle. It felt as though you were still in the crushing stage of your relationship with how he made you feel when he looked at you like that, like you were the only thing that mattered.

Remus wrapped his other arm around you, enveloping you into a full side hug, and your laughs filled the air as he pressed a firm kiss to the corner of your lips.

You hoped Wales would never lose a game again.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Your gaze was fixed on the sink, specifically zoned in on the tap. The reason for the humidity of the room was because you had just showered. Nancy had guided you in, as you had been too shocked to make it there yourself. She had been willing to stay while you showered, but you had quietly asked to be alone, and she didn't question it, not leaving without reassuring you that she was right there if you needed her.

You didn't know whose house you were currently at. You hoped they didn't struggle with paying the water electricity, for you had a feeling you had just raised the price with the length of your shower. You didn't know how long you had been in there for, but your skin felt raw by the time you had turned it off, so you assumed it hadn't been short.

You slowly lifted your hands to your eyes before you, finding that they were already trembling.

You had just showered, you had just supposedly cleaned yourself, even had gotten changed into clothes, so why were your hands still covered with blood?

Panic rose in your chest, and your breathing became short as you turned on the tap, running your hands under the piercing cold water.

The water going down the drain turned pink, but as you watched closely, your hands weren't getting any cleaner. The blood stayed, like the water wasn't even touching it even as you felt it. You furrowed your eyebrows, your chest starting to heave. Why wouldn't it go away?

Suddenly, memories resurfaced, flashing in your mind as you flinched violently. The blinding red lighting in the sky, the swarm of bats, and...

Eddie.

A sob left you suddenly, and you didn't stop from there. Your whole body shuddered as you recalled what had only happened a few hours ago? Or had it been days? You didn't know, all you knew was that Eddie was gone, and you didn't prevent it when you could have, when you should have.

"No, no," you sobbed, tears streaming down your cheeks, the walls starting to close in on you as your fingers slid against each other, slick with blood, his blood.

You stumbled back, back hitting the wall as you fell apart, the fear slamming back into you at full force.

You didn't expect anyone to come, to comfort you. The others had much more important things to worry about, and Dustin needed more comfort than you. He had been the closest to Eddie, and had held him as he died. He was younger, he couldn't handle it alone, but you could.

But suddenly you weren't so sure that you could take it, because this — this was hell. You were back there in that horrible place, in the place where you had watched Eddie lose his life, where you had stood and done nothing.

You only had yourself to blame.

You were so lost in your terror that you didn't notice the door had burst open until a hand laid on your shoulder, causing you to whirl around and let out a scream.

"Hey! Hey, it's just me."

You blinked, brows furrowing as you made out the features of his face.

Steve said your name softly, brown eyes filled with concern and fear for you as he stared at you. "You're safe, okay? I promise, you're safe."

"But..." you could barely speak, your voice choked as your throat constricted.

"Hey, just take your time," said Steve gently, his other hand coming up to brush your hair soothingly. "Breathe, love."

You opened your mouth to say something else, but instead, another sob ripped out of you as you collapsed into Steve's chest, gripping him tightly.

"I'm right here," said Steve hurriedly, making sure you knew it as he held you securely, cradling the back of your head. "I'm here."

It all came flooding out of you, the grief, the terror, the fury you harboured towards yourself, the anger you harboured towards Eddie for being so reckless, for not listening to you, for deciding to be a hero when that hadn’t been needed, when he hadn't realised he had been more than enough either way.

Your legs gave out, and when you sank to the floor, Steve came with you, holding you tighter as he sat on the floor with you. His arms were wrapped around you protectively, and as his heart continued to ache by the sound of your cries, he swore he would never let anything hurt you again. He would protect you with everything in him, even if it killed him.

You gradually started to calm down, the walls no longer closing in as Steve's comforting scent filled your senses, and you breathed it in, savoured the warmth of him. His lips brushed your forehead, one of his hands rubbing your back, and your body slumped against his, exhaustion suddenly washing over you.

"There you are, come back to me," Steve murmured, and you buried your face into his neck, feeling the wound on the tender skin where one of the Demobats had nearly choked him to death. Assholes.

You pulled away, afraid you were hurting him when you noticed your hands. They were clean, bare, without a trace of blood on them.

You had been imagining it.

You felt a hand move your hair out of your face, and you looked up, your neck warming from the tenderness in which Steve looked at you.

"Feeling better?" He asked quietly.

You gave a small shrug. "I s'pose. Not feeling worse."

Steve nodded, still staring at you, and you felt a hot wave of embarrassment and shame crash into you. God, you couldn't believe it, Steve had just witnessed you in your most vulnerable state, and now he never would be able to look at you the same way.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry," you said, grimacing as you pulled back further from him. "You shouldn't have seen me like that."

Steve frowned. "Huh? No, it's okay."

"No, I-"

He cut you off firmly with your name, and you looked at him tentatively. "You have every right. All of this shit we've been through in the last twenty-four hours has just been... a lot."

"But you still shouldn't... I guess I just thought Dustin would need you more right now. He should be prioritised," you explained. "Y'know, he's younger, and he looked up to E-Eddie so much, and-"

"His friends are looking after him," Steve reassured you. "And why are you acting like his feelings any more important than yours or something? You were there too."

"Exactly, I was there. I was supposed to do something to stop, to-" you cut yourself off with a sharp breath, the tears stinging your eyes again. You whispered so that your voice wouldn't break, "I was supposed to stop him. I told him not to go, but I should've tried harder. I should've fucking dragged him, I shouldn't have just stood there like an idiot while he-"

"Don't," Steve said sharply, and you blinked. "Don't blame yourself for this. It's not your fault, nowhere near it."

"But it was so easy to prevent, Steve," you said shakily.

"Still not your fault. You didn't force him to do it, did you?"

"But I didn't stop him."

"Sounds like you tried, and that's enough. It's not fair to blame yourself," said Steve.

Your lips started to wobble, and Steve's eyes softened, tugging you to come closer to him again. "None of this is fair. It's not fair that he's gone, and I feel horrible, and this guilt... it's eating me up. I can't do it, Steve."

You never expected that you'd admit such a thing, especially to him, but you were just so vulnerable and tired from everything that had happened, that you just didn't care anymore. You didn't want to act strong, because you didn't feel strong at all. You had no energy to act with the lie.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes swirling with sadness for you. "You don't deserve this. I wish I could make it better."

You sniffled, and gave him a small smile. "You already are."

Steve seemed surprised by that, but he returned your smile and pulled you to his chest again, resting his chin on top of your head.

"I'm always here for you, alright? Even if the others are suffering too, you can come to me, and I'll be there," Steve told you earnestly. His voice was softer as he added, "I'll always be there."

Your heart melted, and you wrapped your arms around Steve's waist, desiring to be closer to him even though it was physically impossible to get any closer with him. "Thank you, Steve."

You let your eyes fall closed after that, the intensity of your emotions having had eased, your heartbeat quietened down, all because of him.

You had bigger problems to deal with right now, but one day, you would tell Steve how you felt about him. One day, you would be brave enough.

For now, you were content with just this.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!

Divider by @uzmacchiato

You placed your bag in your lap, and rummaged through it to pull out your Omnioculars. You peered through him, inspecting the field that was currently empty as the game hadn't begun yet. You set them down, and waited in anticipation for the game to start.

You watched as people around you navigated the crowds to get to their seats. You were staring at a couple bickering in front of you when you heard a loud, "coming through!" From above you, and you lifted your gaze to see two men squeezing past the seats, coming your way.

You shuffled back into your seat as much as possible to give them, and they didn't go further as they took the seats next to you, the man with the glasses filling the one beside you.

You glanced at him once, and then twice, quietly taking notice of his good looks. He had dark, messy hair that fell over his eyes charmingly, and round glasses perched on his nose that suited him so well it should've been a crime.

He caught your gaze briefly, and you exchanged a polite smile with him, the kind only directed towards strangers, and looked away. He turned back to talk animatedly with his friend next to him, who had wavy black hair that fell to his shoulders.

You had seen plenty of handsome men in your lifetime, so you paid no more particular attention to the man beside you, and focused on the game instead. Your knee bounced with excitement as the commentator's voice started to boom from all corners of the stadium, the crowd finally somewhat settled as it increased in volume.

You cheered loudly with excitement as the players from each team came out, especially when you spotted your favourites. It was a game of Scotland versus Luxembourg, and while you had nothing against Scotland, you were rooting heavily for Luxembourg.

The game kicked off to a thrilling start, and you quickly discovered what team the man beside you barracked for by the way he he cheered especially whenever Scotland had the Quaffle, him and his friend sometimes shaking each other aggressively and shouting obnoxiously loud in your ear. You made your support for Luxembourg no less obvious, and felt smug whenever they took the Quaffle off Scotland's hands.

The game had been going on for hours, afternoon stretching into night when the Scotland team captain called for a timeout. It was basically a break for the players, and a break for your throat that had screamed itself hoarse. You felt no regret for it since Luxembourg was in front by sixty points.

After fifteen minutes had passed with no sign of the game starting up again anytime soon, a romantic melody started to blast in the stadium with a large projection of big letters appearing in the middle of the stadium.

A simultaneous series of groans and cheers erupted from the crowd.

It was the kiss cam.

The kiss cam only ever showed up when a timeout in a Quidditch match took a while, so it served as a source of entertainment while the viewers waited for the main event to start again. You had encountered a kiss cam before, but it had never once landed on you. It had gotten close, but you had never been put in a situation where you were pressured to kiss a stranger in front of thousands of people, so you were quite grateful.

You stared up at it in amusement. While you were happy to have never been a victim of it, it didn’t mean you didn’t find it entertaining.

A minute passed before the magical projection showed anything else, letting the crowd process what was happening. Then, the letters dissolved, and a large projection of a man and a woman appeared.

The stadium cheered loudly, encouraging them to kiss, and it seemed that the man and woman were already a couple by the way they laughed, leaning in for a sweet kiss with practiced ease.

Next was another man who sat with a younger girl, and it was clear as day that the girl was his daughter as he laughed at the girl’s obvious embarrassment, pressing a fatherly kiss to her forehead.

You waited eagerly to see the next faces on the projection when suddenly, you were looking at your own.

You blinked, eyebrows furrowing as your face showed on the large projection. You looked around you, eyes slowly widening as you realised you were on the kiss cam, where the whole stadium could see you.

And in the projection with you, was the handsome man with the glasses.

You both looked at each other in bewilderment while the stadium roared around you, loud voices telling you to snog.

“Uh- we don’t have to,” the man said, seeming just as unsure as you about what to do.

“Oh come on, just kiss her!” His friend encouraged, patting his back.

“I don’t know, are you…” he trailed off as you stared at him wordlessly, becoming speechless as you continued to gape at him. “We don’t have to, it’s okay.”

Before you could object, he looked to the projection of you two, and shook his head to the crowd, waving his arm to tell the people controlling the projection to turn it to someone else. The projection of you two eventually disappeared, replaced with someone else while the crowd booed.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, and he gave you a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you quietly said, even though it was impossible for him to hear you over the booming stadium.

You looked at your lap as a strange disappointment settled in your chest. You had no right to be disappointed, it had been your fault you hadn’t kissed, you hadn’t gathered the words to tell him it was okay. You had just frozen up like an idiot, and now your chance was gone.

It was only two kisses later when your face and his appeared on the projection again, another attempt at getting you to kiss.

Everyone around you screamed at the both of you to just lean in, and you let out a surprised laugh as the man’s friend slapped him over the head.

“Just snog her, Prongs! That’s the whole point of it!” His friend shouted.

The man looked at you cautiously. “Listen, if you’re not comfortable-”

“I don’t mind,” you said quickly, not wanting to miss your chance again. “Unless you do.”

He blinked in surprise, and then smiled. “No, I don’t.”

You mirrored his smile. “Okay, good. Then I guess I’ll just, um…”

“Yeah…”

You turned your body to him as you both started to lean in, and you were taken aback as his hand came to cup your cheek. You stared into his blazing eyes for a moment before you closed yours, and felt him close the distance between your lips.

You melted into it immediately, humming against his soft lips as his hand dropped from your cheek to your waist, while one of your hands went to his neck. You deepened the kiss, and felt him groan as he tilted his head, squeezing your waist.

The cheers around you were deafening, reverberating off the seats beneath you as you continued to kiss him reverently.

“The kiss cam isn’t on you anymore!” The man’s friend called to you, yet neither of you pulled away, too lost in each other’s lips.

You felt his tongue run along your bottom lip before it gently probed into your mouth, and your other hand flew to his neck, while both of his hands were suddenly squeezing your hips.

You only pulled away when you were out of breath, one of your hands sliding from his neck to his chest as you panted. You felt his chest move up and down as he caught his breath, his hands still on your hips.

Your eyes met his, and you both burst into laughter.

“I’m James,” he said breathlessly.

You grinned, telling him your own name.

“Nice to meet you,” said James, his warm breath still fanning on your face.

“Can’t believe you just snogged a Luxembourg fan,” said his friend from beside, and James lifted one hand off your hip to reach back and slap his friend on the back of his head, making you giggle.

All comments and reblogs appreciated!