#obts

Luke despised early mornings. There was nothing worse than forcing himself out of his comfortable and warm bed, especially now that it was snowing outside. However, the idea of getting out of his hometown for the weekend was a good consolation for having to get up so early. He felt a little strange being home, especially since his parents were out of the country and he was staying with Michael and his parents. It just felt like he didn’t belong anymore. So, he was definitely happy to get away from it all for a while, especially if it meant spending more time with Brinley.

After Luke helped her pick out a Christmas tree, it felt like something had shifted between them. He didn’t think Brinley was necessarily ready to forgive him, but it did feel like she was more open to the idea of a friendship with him. Luke knew he would always want more with her, but he knew he would be lucky to have her back in his life anyway he could. He was hoping to get a chance to really talk to her while they were at the cabin.

After forcing himself out of bed, Luke quickly took a shower and got ready, bundling himself up in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. The cabin was about two hours away and thankfully he wasn’t trying, so he planned on bringing a blanket and curling up in the backseat of whatever car he ended up in.

He didn’t bother to knock as he went into Michael’s room, going over to his closet to steal one of his friend’s many fuzzy blankets. “You almost ready?”

Michael grumbled a bit from where he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. “I can’t believe they’re making us leave this early.”

Luke snorted as he sat down on Michael’s bed. “Your girlfriend is the one who’s responsible for this.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Michael insisted as he came out of the bathroom, reaching for a hoodie and pulling it over his head.

“How long are you gonna tell yourself that lie?” Luke raised an eyebrow at him.

Michael rolled his eyes, spraying some cologne on himself. Luke had only seen him put on cologne when they went to special events back in LA and he was a bit amused that his friend was putting so much effort into getting ready. “She doesn’t want to be with me like that, dude. Besides, our lifestyle isn’t really the best circumstance for a relationship.”

“Has she told you she doesn’t want to be in a relationship with you?” Luke said, clutching the blanket to his chest. He knew this thing between Olivia and Michael was complicated and had given up understanding a long time ago, but he could see the way his best friend lit up whenever he was with her. He never looked that happy to see anyone and that had to mean something. “Have you even told her how you feel?”

Michael avoided his gaze, grabbing the duffel bag he’d packed. “It’s complicated,” he said, making his way out of the room.

Luke followed him, grabbing his own bag from where he’d left it in the hallway before he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen where Michael had gone. “Dude, you love her. You don’t even have to say it out loud. You’ve written nearly an entire album’s worth of songs about her, just play her one and she’ll know.”

The red-haired boy scoffed. “Who said they’re about her?”

“Because contrary to popular belief, I’m not a complete idiot,” Luke replied, hopping up on the counter after he grabbed one of the muffins Michael’s mom had baked for them the night before. That was one of the best things about staying with the Cliffords – Karen was always baking or cooking something delicious, expressing her worry about the amount of take out they had been eating while living in LA. “Who else would they be about?”

“Well, what about the songs you’ve written about Brinley?” Michael shot back as he grabbed a muffin as well.

Luke nearly choked on the bite of muffin he was eating. “What about them? I used to play songs I wrote for her all the time when we were together.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “What about the ones you’ve written since you broke up?”

After the break up, songs about lost love and heartbreak had poured out of Luke. He’d been reluctant to show any of them to the guys because they all just felt so personal.  Although he knew it would happen eventually, the idea of Brinley hearing any of them was terrifying. “That’s different. I don’t have a chance in hell with her.”

“How are you so sure I have a chance with Liv?” Michael asked.

“Because any girl who’s been willing to put up with your shit this long must really love you,” Luke replied matter of factly, hopping off the counter. Michael stayed quiet and Luke hoped he was really considering his words. He just wanted to see his best friend happy. “We better get going, dude. I don’t want to hear Ash’s bitching about us being late.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Things were going better than Luke could’ve hoped for. When he and Michael had met up with everyone else, Olivia announced that she and Michael would be taking her car with all the supplies and luggage loaded in the back while everyone else would be in Calum’s car. Of course, Ashton had called shotgun as soon as she’d finished speaking – as if anyone had any doubt about who was going to sit by Calum’s side – which meant he and Brinley were together in the back.

They’d been driving for only about thirty minutes and Luke was trying his hardest to sleep, but it was hard when Brinley was so close to him. The smell of her perfume, still the same as it had been when they were together, was intoxicating and she looked so cute with her blonde hair tucked under a beanie. He couldn’t stop himself from staring, but thankfully she was wrapped up in her own world. She was staring out the window with headphones in her ears, a blanket even fuzzier than the one Luke had brought draped over her knees. All Luke wanted to do was curl up next to her and go to sleep, but he knew that wasn’t an option. So, finally, he got the courage to actually speak to her, tapping her gently on the knee and smiling gently once she pulled one ear phone out.

“What are you listenin’ to?” He asked, chewing on his bottom lip.

“The 1975’s new album,” she said. “Have you heard it?”

Luke shook his head. He’d been a bit out of the loop since he’d gotten back into town, mostly focusing on writing his own music rather than listening to anything new. “S’it any good?”

Brinley bit her lip, seemingly mulling something over before she held out an ear bud. “Wanna listen with me?”

His stomach fluttered as he nodded, trying his hardest not to seem eager as he unhooked his seatbelt so he could slide into the seat in between them, sticking the headphone in his ear. Their knees brushed as he got comfortable next to her, pulling the blanket up to his chin and leaning his head back against the seat. As nervous as he was, being close to Brinley was still like second nature to him and somehow, he felt more relaxed than he had in months. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of Brinley’s knee pressed against his and Matty Healy’s voice.

It was only a matter of time before his eyes started fluttering closed and he tentatively let his head rest against the girl’s shoulder. He held his breath, preparing himself to be pushed away, but instead Brinley just shifted so he could be more comfortable. Luke let himself start to drift off, a small smile on his lips.

"Is there a party Steve Harrington doesn't want to go to?"

"Yeah, okay," Eddie snorted, showing about as much respect for Steve's reputation as he would Duran Duran– a reputation he wholeheartedly believed mere months ago. "You know what I mean, though, baby doll. You can't stand those people. I literally watched you jump into a pool so you didn't have to talk to Fischer in July."

Steve squirmed. The warmth of Eddie's concern and his own distaste for introspection mixed in his chest, making him restless. He fell back against his pillows, staring up at the smooth, perfect ceiling. He wished it were the popcorned chaos of Eddie's; These things were always easier to say when Eddie was holding his hand.

"I miss going out with you," Steve said, first, because it was the easiest to admit. "We haven't been anywhere but the diner since the club."

Eddie hummed. "Lotsa places to be other than Tina's place, with whole grades' worth of people you can't stand."

"I know," Steve said, because no one knew more than him how confusing his brain could be. "It's– I didn't really like parties before you, you know? They were too loud and crowded, but they were part of the job."

"The job," Eddie huffed, laughing the quiet way he did whenever talking about being 'King' like it was something he could put on a resume.

"Shut up, like you were any better, skulking around in the shadows outside."

"I was selling drugs, Stevie. For money. You know, like a real job?"

"You could sell drugs indoors, Munson, you're just dramatic," Steve said for the 500th time. Eddie's dismissive sniff told Steve he could go back to making his original point, now. Rolling his eyes with a grin, he continued, "Anyway, asshole, like I was saying before you interrupted me, the power of your love cured me of my hatred for loud bass and shitty alcohol."

Eddie's giggle was a thing of beauty, even over the Munsons' shitty receiver.

"I like people seeing us together," Steve confessed. "It makes us feel real."

"It is real," Eddie said, all warmth and sweetness.

"I know. And I know we can't tell people, but I still– I want them to see us. Them, specifically. That's all I've ever wanted."

To be seen with someone who owned him, someone who belonged to him. To feel safe and real and alive, with someone he loved to cover his back. To regain a little of what being King of the Hill had felt like, without the blood on his hands.

"Well shit," Eddie sighed. "My boyfriend wants to show me off to his high school buddies. How am I supposed to say no to that?"

They would have to go as 'friends' of course, but even showing up with Eddie Munson as a 'close friend' was enough of a declaration to send shivers down Steve's spine.

Tina's house wasn't far from Steve's, so they walked. Neither of them felt like getting drunk surrounded by assholes, but this way they could leave whenever without worrying about being boxed in by some rich asshole whose car cost more than his tuition.

Eddie's words, not Steve's.

Enough of that Harrington respectability had hung around to make Steve scoff at the idea of rocking up to a party on foot, but when they finally stepped through the threshold of Tina's childhood home, he was incredibly grateful for the escape plan. Steve had expected people's eyes on them, had asked for it, even, but he hadn't expected their gazes to stick so well. From the moment they arrived, they were the center of attention, but not... not in the way that Steve was used to. Not even in the way they had been this summer, an oddity of thought, something novel to have around the party to liven things up a little. No, these were people who knew Steve better than he wanted but not half as much as they should, and their intent felt like grime on his skin.

He was already regretting asking Eddie to take him here. It would have been infinitely better to spend the night curled in Eddie's arms on the couch, watching some stupid movie he didn't have a chance at understanding. At least there, they could touch without it raising someone's eyebrows.

"You good, Harrington?" Eddie asked, and dared to clasp a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Yeah," Steve said, and glanced around a living room that played a leading role in most of his nightmares. "Let's get this over with."

Eddie was kind enough not to say, 'I told you so'.

A few people said hello as they made their way into the thick of the party. No one who Steve had been particularly close to, really-- Mostly people who had been freshmen Steve's senior year, or former second strings who never really got up close and personal with King Steve. He didn't know if it was because of his previous reputation or his current one that kept his old cronies away, but whatever it was, Steve was grateful for it.

The last time he had been here, he had been on the precipice of his own decline. He had met Billy here, Steve remembered with a start-- He had become so used to remembering Hargrove in conjunction with the old Byers house and the mall that he'd almost forgotten. It had been planned, Steve thought, now. Tommy and Billy had wanted to catch him off guard, introduce him to his own replacement somewhere he wouldn't be in control, although he doubted either one of them had been smart enough to notice just how out of control Steve had been that night.

He wasn't in control now, either, Steve thought with a wry look Eddie's way. Whatever little social capital they had in this moment was all in Eddie's hands. Sure, Eddie liked to tease him for still being the preppy jock archetype, but Steve had all but fallen off the social map before their whirlwind summer. Eddie had a charge or two under his belt now, yeah, but amongst the right people that never mattered. Being a violent shithead had never ousted anyone before, and it certainly wouldn't be enough to completely exile the one guy in town who still knew where to get the good stuff.

Steve knew his classmates very well. They might have their quibbles with Eddie's verdict, might even be ready to kill him again Monday morning, but when they wanted to get high, all those 'ideals' fell away.

After Eddie waved the fourth potential customer away, citing a night off, Steve grinned. As annoyed as Eddie looked right now, being the tag-along was much preferrable to the fucked up psuedo-political machinations he would have been subjected to in high school. No one was approaching them to curry favor, or try to jockey for position. They just wanted to get loaded. Blessedly simple.

"I know you have a joint in your pocket," Steve said, throwing what he hoped was a casual arm around Eddie's shoulders. "You don't wanna make a quick buck? Take your girl out somewhere nice?"

Eddie shot Steve an unimpressed look. "My girl owes me a quick buck or two, actually, leaving me with you all night."

Steve shrugged. "She'll make it up to you."

With a hum, Eddie said, "If she knows what's good for her," and Steve couldn't suppress the shiver that trailed along his spine.

It was almost fun, flirting in secret in a room full of people. Sure, it was wildly dangerous, and Steve was sweating so hard he could already feel his shirt sticking to his skin, but Steve had long since stopped having a normal reaction to 'danger'. Besides, they were tucked away against the staircase, loud music neither of them enjoyed drowning out their conversation. No one would look twice at two assholes who peaked in high school talking trash about some girl. It made Steve feel skeevy and dirty, but he couldn't hide the giddy grin as his stomach swooped when Eddie looked at him, heavy and knowing.

"You gonna ask me to dance or what, Munson?" Steve said, instead of kissing him.

Before Eddie could answer a voice rang across the room, calling Eddie's name.

Steve could feel his body snap to attention, every muscle going tight with adrenaline. Even before he could pinpoint the direction the voice was coming from, he could feel his body shift into fight. He didn't like people just walking up to Eddie, not after the months of harassment and all the work it had taken just to get Eddie through the rest of the semester alive. The anxiety had faded with time, after a summer of simplicity, but with one unfamiliar voice wrapped around Eddie's name, it was back.

Eddie's hand wrapped around Steve's wrist, stilling him, as Steve's gaze settled on the person approaching them. He had missed her in the crowd at first, expecting the tall, imposing figure of one of Jason's erstwhile rivals-- She was the opposite, small and petite, though... Well, Steve thought, glancing down at her leather fingerless gloves and boots the size of his head, perhaps no less imposing for it.

Though she had called Eddie's name, her eyes were on Steve, and they didn't seem impressed. He recognized her from somewhere, he thought, but he couldn't remember from where, and in Steve's experience, that usually wasn't a great sign for his chances at making a friend. It had worked maybe once, with Robin, and it had taken a shit load of Russians and almost dying to make that happen. Every other time had gone to shit very quickly, with the other person pulling out a dozen offenses that Steve couldn't even remember-- Which was the entire problem.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Munson," she said, though her eyes still were locked on Steve-- Specifically his clothes, Steve noted. He frowned down at the pale blue polo. He knew it wasn't exactly cool, but Eddie had said it made his skin look nice.

Eddie had actually said it made his skin look "like buttery silk touched gently by the sun," but that was embarrassing even in Steve's own head.

"Beverley Hanlon," Eddie said, and Steve's frown deepened at the sheer affection in his voice. Eddie was allowed to have friends, he told himself sternly, even very pretty ones you've never met before. "Aren't you supposed to be in Boston somewhere?"

"They let me out for good behavior," Beverley joked. At least, Steve thought she was joking. Probably. Tina didn't seem the kind to let a convicted criminal into her house... without Steve smuggling them in. "I was visiting home for the summer and Paul dragged me here. Said it would be good to catch up with old friends. I told him none of my old friends would be caught dead in this place, but here you are."

"Here I am," Eddie said with a lazy grin. "Stevie, this is Beverly-- One of the founding members of the Hellfire Club. Bev, this is Steve."

The unimpressed gaze made its way back to Steve. "We've met," Bev said flatly.

"Yup," Steve said, entirely unlike a man who remembered that happening. "You were... the grade ahead of me, right? Ed's class."

"Yup," she repeated, popping the 'p' mockingly. "Front row seat to an entire three years of the Steve Harrington experience."

"Right," Steve said, his stomach twisting. "It was good seeing you again. Um, Ed, I'm gonna-- Do you want a drink? I'm gonna get a drink."

Eddie's frown made the pain hit just a little deeper, and the concern in his eyes did nothing to balm it. The last thing Steve wanted was to make a scene in front of one of Eddie's friends, especially one who already hated him, but Eddie was too good to just let it lie. His voice dipped into a whisper, hand tightening around Steve's wrist. "Baby..."

Part of Steve wanted to give in, wanted to be soothed, but a larger part of him felt even worse for it. It felt overwhelming, suddenly, to have Eddie call for him so gently. Beverley's presence made it worse, her judgment a physical thing on his skin, and it hurt to be loved and know she didn't think he deserved it. He couldn't take it, and he didn't want to explain it. More than that, he didn't want to ruin Eddie's opportunity to reconnect with a friend. God knew he needed more of them, needed more than Steve could give to him.

"I'm gonna get a drink," Steve repeated, pulling his wrist from Eddie's grip.

The route to Tina's kitchen was almost muscle memory. It had been years since he'd shown up to one of these, but before the fall of King Steve, they had been an often enough affair that Tina's house was as familiar to him as Tommy's or Carol's. Her parents' hadn't changed much over the years, the same decor like landmarks on the walls. Steve took a turn by the overlarge cuckoo clock, the one he'd almost smashed with a bottle sophomore year, slipped through the doorway in the green wall, and--

Oh.

Tommy Hagan stood in the kitchen, staring down at a plastic cup on the counter in front of him. Steve hesitated just long enough for Tommy to look up, their eyes meeting across the room.

In an instant, Steve was in the last moment he'd seen Tommy, standing sore and dirty in the Warzone. As bad as he and Tommy had ended, Steve had never considered that his... old friend might be one of the idiots brainwashed by Jason's prejudice. Not even when Vickie's ex-boyfriend was there, home from college, did he think any of the people from his grade would be stupid enough to listen to some dumbfuck kid.

But there Tommy had been, just as Steve had left him.

The fight had been quiet, but had torn Steve apart in a way that the demobat's couldn't reach. Every healed wound was reopened, every argument relitigated, but Steve had gotten the last word.

"If you want to keep pretending to get the approval of people who would kill you if they knew who you were, go ahead, Tommy," Steve had said, "but I'm fucking sick of it."

When they had gotten back into the RV, Steve's hands were shaking. That was the last time he would ever see Tommy Hagan, he told himself, one way or another.

But apparently fucking not.

It was too late to go back to the party. Tommy had seen him now, and there was no way Steve was going to give Tommy the pleasure of backing down.

Steve forced himself to enter the kitchen properly, the door shutting behind him. Tommy's eyes never left him, but he forced himself to look down and away, focusing on the bottles of alcohol on the counter. He reached for a bottle of whiskey and a plastic cup, something simple to sip at while he pretended the vast gap between Steve's high school career and Eddie's didn't still scare the shit out of him. This night would be good, and if it couldn't be good, it was at least going to be easy. Steve wouldn't let it be anything else.

"Hey," Tommy said. Steve didn't flinch. Tommy had never let Steve have anything easy; He hadn't expected Tommy to start now.

"Hi," Steve said. He didn't look up until he was done pouring himself a shot. When their eyes finally met again, Steve let himself smile. It wasn't a nice smile, but it felt right on his face, felt good like a knife slipping easily between the ribs. "How's Carol?"

It wasn't his subtlest slight. Tommy barely flinched, but he had never been great at hiding his emotions from Steve, and the frown was evident in the corners of his mouth, of his eyes.

"We broke up," Tommy said, after a moment, and Steve-- Well, that was almost a surprise. He had half expected them to make each other miserable forever, to be old and grey and mean as fuck and convinced they were in love simply because they didn't know anything else. He used to imagine himself as a part of it, too, with dread deep in his stomach. Used to imagine the relief he would feel on his deathbed, finally escaping them.

"Good for Carol," Steve said, and, mouth dry, threw back his shot. Tommy watched him as he poured a new one.

"I thought about what you said, last time," Tommy said, and Steve couldn't help but laugh a little, shaking his head. "No, really, Stevie--"

"Don't. You can't--" Steve's hands shook as he put the bottle back down on the counter. "You don't get to try and fucking win me back. That wasn't the point. I don't-- I don't want you to choose me anymore, Tommy. I got tired of waiting."

"Then what was the point?"

"For you to stop being fucking angry all the time!"

"Oh, like you're one to ta--"

Steve cut across Tommy's words with a hiss. "You joined a fucking lynch mob." Tommy paused, his eyes going wide. Something in Steve's chest broke at that, still a sucker for those big eyes. He had a fucking type, apparently, and it wasn't just Eddie and Nancy-- It was everyone, everyone he'd ever loved, big-eyed broken hearts that Steve wanted to hold together with his own bloody hands. "You were going to kill someone because you were too chicken shit to have someone think you might not be 'normal'. Like it's normal to be so mad at life you kill a guy for listening to music you don't like."

Tommy didn't answer, just downed his own drink. Steve reached for the sours, making some concoction that was more whiskey than mix. He couldn't do this. He couldn't fucking--

"So are you here with him?" Tommy asked. Steve looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "With Munson. You're here with him?"

No. No, Steve was done. Something about Eddie's name in Tommy's voice made Steve's brain go static. He wasn't playing this game anymore. Had no need for it. This fucked up ritual of posturing and pretension in someone else's kitchen wasn't who Steve was anymore. He fucking refused to spend the rest of the night sad and sick at his stomach, unable to reach the cool, untouchable facade of Tommy Hagan.

"Is this how you felt that night, with Billy?" Steve asked, instead. Tommy didn't speak, which was really the only answer Steve needed. "Right. Cool. Fuck this. Bye, Hagan."

He left the whiskey on the counter behind him.

Steve returned to Eddie's side just as frantic as he had left him, and it took every ounce of practiced repression that Steve had not to throw himself into Eddie's arms. At least Bev's eyes were kinder, now, though in some ways that made it worse. Steve didn't want to know what lies Eddie had decided to tell her about their relationship, about Steve's descent into dork-hood, about spring break. Mostly, he wanted to cry, but he settled for pressing a little too close into Eddie's side, their arms flush from shoulder to elbow.

"You alright, princess?" Eddie asked, his voice dropped low enough that Steve knew the name was meant to gentle, not to tease. God, Steve loved this man.

"I'm fine," he said, eyes darting to Bev and then back away. "Ran into Tommy in the kitchen. Didn't feel much like drinking anymore."

For a moment, Steve could see it becoming an Issue, Capital I, in Eddie's eyes. They hadn't really talked about Tommy, or his involvement with Jason's group of dipshits, not like they talked about Nancy. Steve had assumed it was all pretty obvious, from the letter jacket to the girlfriend, obvious and pathetic and embarrassing. But apparently Eddie had assumptions of his own, because Steve watched his eyes slide slowly to the direction of the kitchen, watched them go dark with determination. It wasn't anger, just a surety that Steve recognized from the mirror, the mental equivalent of planting your feet in the dirt and daring someone to move you.

Eddie looked at the kitchen like it contained an enemy, not the most pathetic man that Steve had ever known.

"Not that big a deal," Steve said, softly. "Don't worry about it."

"Right," Eddie said, and after a beat, turned back to Beverly. "Sorry, what were you saying about parking?"

The conversation picked back up like Steve had never interrupted, although a little softer now, with spaces at the edges like they were both waiting for Steve to join them. He didn't feel the need, didn't feel like the energy would be worth what it took to craft himself into a functioning person.

He kept close to Eddie, instead. Too close to be written off as just friends, honestly, close enough to get them both killed if the wrong person looked at them twice. And people were looking. Of course they were; Steve Harrington's arm was wrapped around Eddie Munson's waist, fingers tangled in the chain that spilled from his lover's pocket. How could they not look? Even Beverly seemed shocked, like even all her years of freakery at Eddie's side hadn't prepared her for the depth of Steve's need. Steve only pressed closer, the metal on Eddie's belt biting into his skin. He didn't care.

Neither, it seemed, did Eddie, which was more of a surprise. Steve had prepared himself to be pushed away. Had already begun placating the longing thing in his chest that it wasn't a true rejection, that Eddie was only doing what was smart. That he needed to get hurt to keep them safe. But Eddie never moved from his side. Never said a word about it, either, just slung a nonchalant arm over Steve's shoulders.

It was so fucking stupid, wasn't it? Stupid of Steve to stand this close, and hold so tightly. Stupid of Eddie to let him. Tears stung at Steve's eyes. He'd never been loved enough to be loved stupidly before. But Steve had enough of logical affection. Nancy and Tommy were so, so careful with him, but never in the ways that mattered. They measured their love into bits and pieces, rationing it out when it was safe. When it was allowed. Not Eddie, though.

Eddie held him in full view of the entire fucking town, if Steve needed it badly enough.

"Do you know that guy?" Beverly asked, loud enough that even Steve followed her eyeline.

Tommy stood against the far wall, far enough away that he couldn't hear their conversation, but close enough he couldn't be ignored. His gaze burned on Steve's skin. He didn't look disgusted or angry, not like Steve would have expected a mere six months ago, but there was an intensity to his eyes that Steve didn't like. He pressed himself further into Eddie's side.

"Tell me to go talk to him," Eddie said. Like he was letting Steve call the shots. Like he was asking for permission. "It'll be quick, I promise."

"Just get me out of here." Steve's hand slid up from Eddie's hip, fingers bunching the hem of Eddie's shirt in his palm. "Somewhere we can be alone. Please."

For a moment, it looked like Eddie was going to argue. Steve tried to beg silently for him to understand-- There were at least a dozen people looking at them right now, Tommy the least to worry about. Steve had leverage on Tommy, Steve knew things about Tommy that would kill his reputation with more than just their friends. Tommy couldn't say shit without Steve taking him down with him. They both knew that.

But if Eddie started shit in public, there was nothing Steve could do. In fact, it would only be more damning. Steve tried not to think about what the neighbors would tell his parents, if it were rumor that Eddie and Tommy had fought over him.

Common sense won out. Eddie shrugged and turned to Bev with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Hanlon. We gotta step out for a second. Maybe I'll see you around."

Bev shrugged. "Don't worry about it, Eddie. You guys have a nice night..." She met Steve's eyes. "It was nice to meet you, Steve."

"You too," Steve lied. It was too bad, he thought as Eddie led him away. It would have been nice to actually have a good time with one of Eddie's friends. He'd yet to meet one who didn't hate him on sight, but it was always nice to dream. Maybe the next time would be easier, if Beverly stuck around until school started back. Gareth still hadn't deigned to be in the same room with him a second time.

Leading Steve up the staircase, Eddie tangled their fingers together. The second floor was empty, enough to give Steve the bravery to cling onto his boyfriend. There was a bathroom on this landing, Steve remembered, a bathroom where--

"In here," he said, without thinking. "Can we just-- In here?"

Without answering, Eddie pulled him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Okay," Eddie said, voice shaking. "Do you want to tell me what--" He was cut off by Steve flinging himself into Eddie's arms. It was clumsy, more like a tackle than a hug. Steve's shoulder hit Eddie square in the chest, sending them both stumbling back, knocking into the wall and sending towels and loofahs tumbling off the rickety rack beside them. Eddie's arms came up around Steve before the impact even registered, just as tight as Steve was clinging to him. "Hey, hey. It's okay, Stevie. It's okay. He's not going to touch you."

Steve laughed wetly, his tears seeping into Eddie's t-shirt. "It's not-- Fuck Tommy Hagan. I don't care about-- Fuck, Eddie, I don't care about him." Eddie said nothing, just stroked one hand down Steve's spine, waiting. Steve took one shuddering breath before continuing, "I just don't understand why it has to be so fucking hard all the time."

"I'm sorry." Eddie's voice was soft, but there was a guilt there that was all too familiar to Steve. He forced himself to pull out of Eddie's embrace enough to make eye contact.

"It's not your fault," Steve said, sliding one hand around to rest on Eddie's chest. "It's never your fault, when I-- when I get like this. I promise."

Eddie pushed a messy lock of hair back into place, away from Steve's forehead, and smiled sadly. "It'd be easier, though, if you weren't worried about being in love with the Freak."

"It wouldn't," Steve said, pushing closer again. He stooped low enough to rest his forehead on Eddie's collarbone, curling against him. "You're the only thing that's ever been easy."

"This is the second time I've made you cry at a party," Eddie said, but there was a smile in his voice now. Steve nudged his nose into Eddie's skin and sighed.

"I made myself cry, both times," Steve reminded him. "We're not even fighting this time. I just got into my own head about meeting your friend, and then--" He swallowed. "Well, Tommy."

"I wish I could make it easier for you," Eddie said. He dipped his head to press a kiss to Steve's clothed shoulder. Steve smiled and leaned into the contact, loving the warmth filling him up from Eddie's easy acceptance. Every day, Eddie's lack of judgment when it came to Steve's quirks made his brain quiet enough to manage.

"This makes it easier," Steve said. He cradled Eddie's face in his hands, tilting Eddie's chin up so Steve could litter his face with kisses. "Being yours makes it so, so easy."

"You're trying to butter me up." Far from sounding put out, Eddie's arms wrapped back around Steve's waist, pulling him roughly against Eddie's chest.

"Trying to seduce you, actually," Steve said, lightly. Nothing banished the shadows from his mind like touch. Just Eddie's skin against his could cure him, Steve thought, if the world didn't demand distance between them just to get through another day. He tried to forget that separation waited in the wings, tried to pretend that the entire world was here, inside this bathroom. Swallowed down his tears and hid a smile under the curve of Eddie's jaw. "Is it working?"

Eddie sighed, but he was already backing Steve up against the sink, crowding him into the porcelain. Steve clung to Eddie's shoulders as Eddie's body forced him off balance, his back curving over the sink, towards the mirror, the facsimile of a dip.

"One of these days, Harrington, I'm going to put a stop to these little distractions of yours." Despite his protest, Steve could hear Eddie's interest in the scratch of his voice, could feel it in the way Eddie's fingers gripped at his body.

Steve angled their faces together, humming against Eddie's lips in mock thought. "You can certainly try."

With a growl, Eddie kissed him.

Steve wondered if he would ever get used to the way Eddie kissed him. It was ridiculous, he thought, as Eddie licked into his mouth, that Eddie could take him apart this way with so little effort. They had done very little together but kiss for weeks now, even their public hangouts culminating in an hour or two of necking. It wasn't like Eddie was the first person to ever kiss him. Eddie wasn't even the first man to ever kiss him.

Fuck if Eddie couldn't set him on fire, though.

"You drive me fucking insane," Eddie groaned as he dragged his open mouth across Steve's cheek.

"Yeah?" Steve's voice shouldn't be so breathless, he knew that, but hearing his own voice wrecked like that only made his chest pull tighter.

"Using all my best moves and you're a mile away." Eddie pressed impossibly closer, his teeth digging gently into the meat of Steve's cheek, just enough for Steve to feel the pressure and shiver against him. "What are you thinking about, huh, Stevie? What's got my sweetheart's attention?"

"Thinking about you," Steve promised. "Always thinking about you, Eddie."

Eddie's hand slid into Steve's hair, gripping at the fine hairs at the nape of Steve's hair until they stung enough to make him gasp. "I'm right here, baby. Don't go floating away on me yet."

Steve didn't bother replying, just pulled against Eddie's grip, trying to connect their mouths again. Eddie tutted, the kind of condescending that sent shivers down Steve's spine. "None of that, now," Eddie said. He no longer needed his hands to keep Steve in place, his body keeping Steve's solidly pinned against the porcelain of the sink. His free hand was much better used trailing a thumb down the exposed tendon in Steve's neck as Eddie surveyed Steve with flashing eyes. "You gonna tell me what's got you so eaten up inside, Stevie?"

"I told you," Steve whined. He was getting better at talking about his feelings; At least, he was trying. Steve honestly thought he was miles ahead of where he used to be. Sure, he still started fights now and again, but it wasn't out of sheer desire to never let himself any emotion but anger. If anything, he was a little too in touch with his emotions. He felt like they were spilling out of his mouth constantly, with or without his permission. At first he'd thought it was a result of the adrenaline, the way he was always confessing something embarassing after life or death situations. Or before them. But no one had tried to kill him recently, and it still seemed like Steve was admitting one mortifying secret after another.

"You've hinted," Eddie challenged. "You haven't told me what really happened. If he... I don't know how you two ended. But if Tommy is a problem.."

There was a moment, where Eddie was trying to find the words to say. Steve could already hear them, though, the same words Robin had tried to ask-- Had tried to ask about Eddie, too, recently. He wondered what it was about him that screamed victim to the people who loved him, what made them always assume he had been hurt in some terrible way. It was sweet that they wanted to protect him, but a part of Steve was a little sick of it, too. He wasn't a child. He could handle asshole exes.

"It wasn't like that," Steve said, and at the dubious look in Eddie's eyes, he shook his head, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of the situation. "No, seriously, Ed. Tommy and I got in fights, yeah, especially at the end, but I was just as mean as him. I hit harder, too. Sure, he hurt me, but it wasn't-- It was like Nancy and I, really, except worse. We couldn't talk, and it wasn't that we didn't want to, we were just fucking terrified of saying what we actually wanted. That wasn't Tommy's fault." It hurt to admit, but Steve was fairly sure that the nebulous mess of his and Tommy's relationship was just as much his fault as anybody else's. Sure, Tommy had been the one to constantly choose Carol, over and over, but Steve hadn't exactly asked to be chosen. He had been content, even pursued Nancy out of some need to complete the perfect image the three of them had already begun. He had been the one to fall in love with someone else, too, no matter how much it stung when Tommy threw it in his face.

"So why are we hiding in a bathroom then, baby?" Eddie asked.

Steve bit his lip, a smile quirking the edges of his lips despite himself when Eddie's eyes flicked down, distracted. He took a second to gather himself, almost wishing he had the strength to push Eddie away for this conversation. "You're not going to like it," he said.

"Wow, I'm not going to like what's making my boyfriend cry? Shocker."

"It's about spring break," Steve said, and watched the teasing smile fade from Steve's face with a sick feeling in his stomach.

"Tommy was..."

"Yeah. Yeah, he came home for break, and-- And he and Jason hadn't exactly been close, you know, with Jason being so new and all, but he had looked up to us, and he was always so eager to do what Tommy said, and Tommy isn't exactly great at breaking from the pack. I mean, you saw how he was with--" Steve's throat tightened. "You know, with Billy."

Eddie's lips pursed. "Beginning to sense a pattern there, yeah."

"I don't know what's worse," Steve said, "the idea that he never really knows how bad they are or the idea that he just doesn't care."

There was a long moment as Eddie took a deep breath, and then he said: "Stevie, baby, you know that doesn't have anything to do with you, right?"

"I think it--" Steve laughed, wetly, tears caught in his throat. "I think it has a lot to do with me, actually."

"No--"

"Eddie. Tommy was my best friend for years. I was in love with him. And he's-- He's a terrible fucking person. I cut him loose and the next guy he's cozying up to is Billy fucking--" Steve could feel himself start to spiral again, even in the firm press of Eddie's body. "Did Lucas ever tell you what Billy tried to do to him? He was gonna run him over. Even worse, maybe, that night he showed up to my house. And Tommy fucking introduced me to him like it was going to make me jealous. And it did. I was jealous of a man who wanted to kill little kids."

"Steve," Eddie tried, but Steve was galloping away without him.

"And then Jason Carver. Tommy was gone, he was out of here, but he couldn't even make it one week without throwing in with the asshole who was going to kill you. They were going to kill you, Eddie."

"I know, baby. I know."

"Tommy was going to kill you, and he-- He loved me. He did, he loved me. And he was going to kill you, Eddie. So what the fuck's the matter with me?"

"I--" Eddie looked lost, honestly, and Steve's heart broke a little. He wanted Eddie to tell him he was crazy, wanted Eddie to make it all go away, but even Eddie couldn't untangle the chaos of Steve's thoughts. "There's nothing wrong with you, Stevie. You can't take responsibility for something he did two years after you stopped talking to the guy. Like, what, you're gonna blame yourself for everything he does for the next ten years, too?"

"You don't get it. It's like... It's like, Tommy only chooses the worst people. Just, the worst fucking people Hawkins has to offer. So-- so why was I one of them? What's fucking wrong with me that the only person to ever want to own me is--"

"I'm gonna have to stop you right there," Eddie said, his voice the kind of gentle that spoke of intent. "Because I think you're confused, baby. You don't belong to Tommy, do you?"

Confusion brought Steve's rising panic to a halt, had him looking up at Eddie with a furrowed brow. "No? No, obviously not. I wouldn't--"

"Steve." Just a little firmer now, Eddie's gentle hands cupped Steve's thighs and lifted him up just enough that one of Eddie's thighs could slide between them. "Who do you belong to, baby?"

"Oh," Steve gasped, the air rushing out of him. "I--" Eddie seemed to be content to wait, but there was no amusement in his eyes, just the intense stare of a man waiting for the right moment.

Steve swallowed. "You?" he tried, then flushed when a grin broke over Eddie's face in approval. Still, whatever lurked in Eddie's eyes wasn't exactly happiness. It was a little darker than that, a little hungrier, a little meaner. Steve knew he should probably be worried, at least be a little more attached to the panic that had seemed so all consuming, but the sight of what Steve hoped might be possession in Eddie's eyes had him flushing with excitement instead.

"That's right," Eddie said, and pressed a kiss to Steve's cheek as if to prove it. "You're all mine. No one else gets to have you, because no one else can take care of you right, can they, sweetheart? No one else knows how to treat my Stevie. Especially not Tommy fucking Hagan."

"Yours," Steve promised, heart in his throat.

Eddie hummed in agreement, nosing his way lower to mouth at Steve's jaw. When he'd had his fill of the scratch of Steve's stubble against his tongue, he said, "And I only have the best, right? Don't I deserve it, baby boy?"

"You deserve everything, Ed," Steve breathed, clinging to Eddie's shoulders.

Sighing, Eddie dug his fingers into the muscle of Steve's thighs, the slight ache the perfect punishment for Steve's racing mind. "Then my baby should be the best, right? You're the only one I got, sweetheart. And I don't know what you were like, when Tommy Hagan tried to make you his. Doesn't really matter, either, because you're mine now, and you're the best fucking thing this town has to offer. That's all I know. Fuck everything else."

Steve pulled at Eddie's shirt, his hands going so tight he could feel the bite of his nails in his palms even through the thin fabric. He didn't know what to say, couldn't find a way to make his logic work without insulting Eddie or his choices-- Logic that made about much sense as Eddie's did, if Steve was honest with himself; Both of them were arguments Nancy would scoff at, circular and emotional and, frankly, stupid. But it made Steve want to cry anyway, because Eddie wanted the very best, and Eddie wanted him.

"Prove it," Steve said, because otherwise he would sob and he wasn't sure if he would ever stop.

"Prove what? Use your words, big boy. I know you can."

Pulling a little harder, Steve bullied Eddie back just enough to look him in the eye. "Prove that I'm yours. That I'm-- that I'm the best."

Eddie shifted his weight, throwing Steve even further off balance. There wasn't a word for what Eddie was doing now other than looming; With no real height difference, Eddie had made himself one, using every trick he knew to make himself large and imposing. Steve's entire field of vision was swallowed up by Eddie, all black cotton and leather. Eddie leaned in close, smiling that wolfish grin.

"Yeah, I can do that for you, baby," Eddie said, his hot breath against Steve's lips.

And then Steve was being consumed.

It was impossible to think when Eddie kissed him like this, and although Robin had tried to wheedle details out of Steve, he had always failed to put into words just how Eddie made him feel. The simple fact of the matter was that Steve would never be able to properly describe it, because that required his brain to be coherent enough to remember anything. Even in the moment, Steve didn't have words for what he was feeling. There was no fancy language or purple prose that floated through his head, no inner monologue, just the vague recognition of hot and wet and sheer animal instinct.

Steve felt very, very sorry for all the girls who had once called him the best kisser in Hawkins, because this was so much better than anything he'd ever managed in high school.

After a moment, Eddie began to back off, and Steve recognized the move. It seemed that getting Steve riled up was half the fun for Eddie, and it only took a couple days for Steve to see a pattern begin to emerge. Eddie would kiss him until he could scarcely breathe, much less think, and then pull back. What was once tongue and teeth would become chaste and gentle, patient, and then Eddie would hold it over his head as Steve went crazy trying to get Eddie's tongue back in his mouth. It was mean, and Steve would be more irritated by how obviously Eddie got off on it if it didn't feel so good for Eddie to hold him down and make him take what Eddie was willing to give.

Steve's cock began to thicken in his pants, far too turned on for some juvenile necking at a bathroom. Mostly sober, even. Steve had a reputation to keep up, steady boyfriend or not, and while he knew Eddie wasn't exactly going to talk about his performance in the locker rooms, getting a stiffy every time he got his mouth on Eddie's was the antithesis of cool. It wasn't hot, either. It was lukewarm. Tepid. The kind of baby shit Steve had stopped doing in the 10th grade. With that in mind, Steve broke the kiss to catch his breath, and groaned when Eddie took it as a sign to attach his teeth to Steve's neck, instead. Squirming, Steve tried to angle his hips away from Eddie's. Unfortunately, it only made more clear the firm press of Eddie's cock against his thigh. Eddie didn't seem as concerned, focused intently on the hickey he was leaving on Steve's pulse point, but suddenly Steve was able to think of very little else.

It was dizzying, just the idea of Eddie, thick and hard. It was hard to get an idea of what he looked like by touch alone, but Steve had more than enough imagination to make up for it. Steve's mouth flooded with saliva as he pictured it, what it might feel like warm and heavy in his hand, on his tongue-- Fuck, if Steve thought the fantasies were bad when Eddie touched him, then they were even worse when Eddie kissed him. If he'd had even a fraction of strength left in his limbs, then Steve might have pushed Eddie away and sunk to his knees on the tile floor. That, at least, would keep the issue of his new hair trigger cock out of the equation for a little while. But pinned against the sink, Steve had little to no leverage, and as Eddie laved down to his collarbone to start work anew, he wasn't sure he really wanted to.

What he needed was a distraction, really. As he clung to Eddie, whining high when teeth closed around the tendons in his throat and tugged gently, Steve tried to think of anything else. Anything else. The world that had seemed so upsetting before now seemed a thousand miles away, and he struggled to sift through the memories of just a few moments ago. Tina's party, he made himself remember, and the ugly couch with the ratty upholstery they kept in their basement. The awful orange tile backsplash in their kitchen. The burn of the vodka down his throat. The music, so loud he could still hear it now, bass thumping up through the floor and into his bones, the distant whine of an electric guitar.

With a giggle, Steve realized he recognized the song. Vaguely, of course; It was the kind of recognition he had for the soaps Mrs. Buckley watched while he helped her with dinner, viewed through the fog of apathy. It wasn't one of Eddie's songs. In fact, the only reason Steve remembered it at all was that it had once inspired a ninety minute diatribe against the evils of 'glam metal', one which had only settled after Steve had revealed that, actually, he thought Slash was kinda hot. Eddie had been so aghast at Steve getting the band wrong that he hadn't been able to continue to besmirch them, and that had been the end of that. The giggles continued, as Steve remembered the betrayed little looks Eddie had sent him for the rest of the day.

"Something funny, buttercup?" Eddie said, biting harder at Steve's throat.

Steve hummed just to feel his skin vibrate against Eddie's teeth. "They're playing your song," he said, every syllable falling into laughter.

After a brief moment, Eddie snorted and pulled away. He was so fucking beautiful, Steve thought, with his pupils blown and his smile sharp. He was beautiful everyday, of course, but mostly like this, when he was looking at Steve like he was something to eat. "If you're listening to the music, I must not be doing a very good job," he muttered, eyes narrowing.

Doing too damn good a job, Steve didn't say. The brief distraction had rid Steve of the fear of coming untouched like a virgin, but his dick still throbbed insistently in his pants. "Guess not," he said, barely holding himself back from panting.

"Yeah, okay, Harrington." Eddie patted him on the hip. "Hop up."

"What?"

Rolling his eyes, Eddie once again grabbed Steve by the thighs, but this time he lifted, sliding Steve up and back to perch on the lip of the sink. Steve blinked in surprise. He'd known Eddie had some strength from that moment in the boat house, and had never forgotten that the man could apparently throw him around anytime Steve asked for it, but he hadn't expected to actually be... well, picked up and thrown. Not that there had been very far to go, but... Fuck.

Steve could feel himself flushing as Eddie pushed his legs apart, stepping into the cradle he made there. "Now I've got you where I want you," Eddie said, smug and self-assured, and Steve could only reach up for a kiss.

Despite Steve's enthusiastic appeal, Eddie refused to let Steve take charge. Any hands that reached for sensitive areas were batted away, and when Steve's kisses delved too deep, Eddie grabbed him by the hair and pulled him away. It was torture in the worst way, not least of all because Eddie was doing all he could to be as tempting as possible. Every moment, every kiss and caress, every roll of his hips was choreographed and perfectly placed. Steve had never witnessed anything like it. Never had someone perform for him like this-- Because that's what this was. Eddie was seducing him like it was a performance, like Eddie was on stage and working the crowd. Steve had never gotten a lap dance before, but he'd heard of them, from the guys who weren't afraid to pay for the seedier shit. This wasn't the same, some no-touch tease of a thing with a girl whose name you barely knew, but Steve figured the appeal was the same. Sex and a show, someone sexy wrapped in leather and all their attention on you. The beat of the song vibrated through Steve's bones, no longer from the stereo downstairs but because Eddie was fucking him at 124 beats per minute.

Because he was being fucked. The fact they both still had their fucking pants on was doing nothing to change the way Steve felt like he was being fucking taken apart, or the fact that Eddie had him pinned and desperate. Even though it dulled the edge of pleasure, Steve could still feel the jut of Eddie's cock against his own as Eddie rocked into him. He'd had his fair share of dry humping, girls and guys alike, and it had never felt like this. It was supposed to be distracted and silly, something horny teens who didn't know better gave into, but this was...

This was Eddie, stupid and messy and unplanned in someone else's bathroom, and Steve felt like he was drowning in it.

"Doing okay, princess?" Eddie asked, panting open-mouth against Steve's ear.

Steve threw back his head and moaned. Before he could even recover, Eddie's teeth were around his Adam's apple, digging in softly.

"I'm gonna fucking come," Steve said outloud, the crown of his head bumping against the mirror behind him. Before he said it out loud, he hadn't realized how true it was. His underwear was wet with precum, and it dragged minutely against the head of his cock with every thrust even as it did its best to escape the fabric. Every shift against his sensitive skin brought just the barest edge of pain, and Steve wasn't sure if his balls were drawing tight because of it or in spite of it, but he was hurtling towards the edge regardless. Steve's toes curled in his shoes, another reminder of how much better this would all be if he was just fucking naked. Eddie showed no signs of stopping, his head dropping to Steve's shoulder as he focused entirely on the cant of their bodies together.  

"God, yeah," Eddie groaned, just loud enough for Steve to hear. "Let 'em hear you cum, baby. Let the whole fucking party know you're up here getting railed like the slut you are."

There were several things Steve wanted to say that-- He wanted to protest being called a slut, wanted to tease Eddie that if he wanted to 'rail' Steve he was going to have to do a little better than this. What Steve's brain wanted to do had very little to do with what his body was doing, however, because his cock fucking loved it. He felt himself twitch against the fabric once, twice more at the sheer thought of someone downstairs hearing him come apart, and then he was spilling into the already sodden fabric of his pants.

Clinging onto the last bit of common sense left in his dizzy little brain, Steve didn't cry out as his hips jerked, artless, against Eddie's. He buried his face in Eddie's neck and choked his way through it, teeth gritted against the sob rising in his throat.

Eddie dropped the performance in the face of Steve's desperate embrace, his own grip becoming softer. "There you go, sweetheart. God, my pretty baby," Eddie crooned, dropping kisses against whatever bits of Steve's skin he could reach. As Steve tried not to squirm his way off the sink during the aftershocks, Eddie continued his soft litany of nonsensical endearments.

"What does it say about me," Steve panted into Eddie's neck, "that I've been having sex for four years and that's the hardest I've ever come?"

Laughing, Eddie cupped the back of Steve's head, smoothing down the wayward hair there. It was a sweet gesture, caring in its absentminded way, and Steve pulled back enough to stare up at Eddie, delighted.

"I think it means you have a really sexy boyfriend," Eddie said, smug as anything.

With a roll of his eyes, Steve said, "I think my sexy boyfriend should let me return the favor." Then he hooked his pointer fingers into Eddie's waistband and waited for the smirk on Eddie's face to fade into shock.

"Are you sure?" Eddie asked, as Steve's wandering hands made their way to his fly. "I just wanted to get you out of your head, baby. You really don't have to--"

Steve shoved his hand into Eddie's pants, never breaking their gaze while he wrapped his hand around Eddie's cock. "I've been thinking about sucking your cock for months now," Steve said. "Please believe me when I say I really, really do need to, actually."

Eddie glanced down at the tile below them, wincing at the off-white color. "I'm not letting you suck my dick in this bathroom." When Steve scoffed, he looked up, eyes squinted with displeasure– As if Steve weren't literally rubbing his thumb over the head of Eddie's dick. "Stop being a little brat. You deserve better."

"I deserve your cock in my throat," Steve grumbled. He was a little pleased, in spite of himself. Not many of his previous partners had put much thought into what Steve did or didn't 'deserve'. If Steve offered, it was accepted, and more than half would gladly push him down to his knees where he belonged. It had never upset him, because Steve liked it– being on his knees, being pushed around, it was all exactly where he wanted to be. But there was a little thrill in the idea of Eddie making sure it was good and safe for Steve, too.

Not as much of a thrill as Eddie making him choke on his dick, but still.

"Do I have permission to at least make you come with my hand?" Steve said. Enjoying the teasing, he kept his voice mockingly nonchalant, as if Eddie's dick in his palm was something that happened everyday. One of Eddie's eyebrows arched, a skill that inspired as much lust in Steve as it did blistering jealousy. It should be illegal for one nerd loser to be so fucking sexy while Steve still had trouble walking down the street without causing a minor disaster.  

"You can certainly try," Eddie said.

Steve didn't like the amused tone in Eddie's voice, the one that said Eddie doubted very much that Steve could make him come with nothing but a dry hand. He knew it was only playing, a more intimate version of their friendly arguments, but mixed with the recent overprotectiveness it made Steve's hackles raise like an angry cat. He wanted to make Eddie's eyes fucking roll with pleasure, if only to prove to himself that he was still in full control of himself and his... various skills.

Carefully, Steve finally released Eddie's dick from the confines of his boxers, trying not to show how excited he was for the first glimpse of his boyfriend's dick. It was honestly nothing special, if Steve was being honest with himself, average sized and curved enough to make every stroke smooth. Still, the fact that it was his boyfriend's dick, flushed purple and hot in his hand, was enough to make Steve's mouth water. It was the prettiest dick in the world, he decided, and then quickly vowed to never say anything that embarrassing out loud.

Eager to get started, Steve spit into his hand and resumed the slow, long strokes that he'd teased Eddie with before, pausing to play idly with the head now and again.

Eddie shifted his weight, leaning into Steve. "You can go a little faster, you know," he said. Steve could hear the feigned, practiced boredom in his voice, and the slight strain underneath.

Don't bullshit the bullshitter, Steve thought.

It was easy to return the unconcerned energy. All Steve really had to do was prop his free arm on Eddie's shoulder, a casually intimate gesture. It was the kind of thing he'd do with a friend at a party, his hand not even resting on Eddie's body. If he couldn't feel the spit and precum oozing between his fingers, Steve would almost say this was the most obviously platonic they'd been all night.

"You know, I think it's really sweet when you treat me like a virgin," Steve said, in the same voice he'd talk about the weather, or which of them was supposed to pick up Dustin that day. "Unnecessary, but really, really sweet. But you know, I have to wonder if it's maybe a little selfish?"

Eddie didn't even acknowledge Steve's words, his entire attention on the hand on his cock. Steve could feel Eddie's fingers flex where they gripped at his hips, could see Eddie's throat work as he swallowed, but it wasn't enough. He wanted Eddie's attention on him, not the easy friction of Steve's hand. Eddie could get that anywhere.

Fighting the urge to pout and beg for the attention he felt he was owed, Steve leaned in until his chin was almost resting on Eddie's shoulder. Breath disturbing the fine baby hairs behind Eddie's ear, Steve said, "Is that what gets you off, Eddie? Pretending I'm a precious little virgin? That's so sweet, baby." 'Sweet' had turned into something sharp in Steve's mouth, a condescending word full of mocking. The kindest synonym for stupid. "Everyone knows I'm a needy slut, but you need to pretend you're the guy who taught me, not T--"

"Don't say his fucking name," Eddie spit, just vicious enough that Steve didn't press it, though he couldn't tell if the tension was actual anger or the oncoming orgasm.

Switching tactics, Steve sighed. "You played your hand there, babe, telling me to cum loud enough for them to hear me. You want them to know you're up here slutting me out, that you're the one who turns me into a cockslut? And it would be such a shame, wouldn't it, if one of them came up here. If T-- If one of the guys came to check on us and they saw King Steve begging for your cock. But you want it so bad, don't you?"

"Need to know who you belong to," Eddie groaned, and then shifted his weight further into Steve as his hips bucked into the clench of Steve's hand. They were plastered together once again, Steve's forehead resting against Eddie's temple. Contrary to the bitchy tone of his teasing, Steve pressed a kiss to Eddie's cheek, overwhelmed by affection. All he'd ever wanted was to be owned, and here Eddie was, about to blow his load at the thought of publically owning him. Steve had just come, and his thighs were still clenching in anticipation at the idea.He whimpered in Eddie's ear and luxuriated in the pained hiss he got in return.

"I belong to you," Steve assured him, the mask of nonchalance falling away. "They didn't take care of me, did they? Not like I needed. Not like you can. So you gotta claim me, gotta let 'em know they can't ever touch me again."

Eddie didn't reply, his chest heaving as he panted, open-mouthed, in time with Steve's strokes. His cock throbbed in Steve's grip, and Steve grinned.

"That's it, baby," Steve crooned, brushing his lips over the tip of Eddie's ear. "Come all over me. Make sure they know who I belong to."

Watching Eddie come was a form of release Steve hadn't even known he needed. He'd never really bothered himself with the physical manifestation of his partners' pleasure before; The orgasm itself was the goal, the mess that came with it was just a slightly irritating reality of sex. But with Eddie's come dripping down his knuckles and splashing across the hem of his shirt, Steve didn't feel the same irritation. For once, he bought into his own dirty talk. The warmth was a brand, now, and he could feel Eddie's claim sink into his skin.

Steve's cock gave a pathetic, painful twitch in his pants, and he groaned as he remembered the mess he'd made. That, at least, was still mildly disgusting.

"Get up," he said, shoving at Eddie's shoulder. "I want to go home."

Eddie laughed, finally straightening up to look Steve in the eye. He was fucking beautiful like this, Steve thought, his hair frizzy and sweat-matted, his cheeks flushed. "You never heard of an afterglow, Harrington?"

"You can glow all you want when I have clean underwear on," Steve said, but even when Eddie stepped back, Steve made sure to stay close. He thought if he lost the warmth of Eddie's body against his, he might actually lose his mind. "Come on, I wanna cuddle. Take me home."

"We haven't even been here an hour!" Eddie said, still laughing.

"I guess you should have thought about that before you made me come untouched, asshole," Steve said, and then stopped, sighing. "You were right, anyway. I hate these people."

"Alright, alright, let me put my dick back in my pants, you maniac," Eddie said, tucking himself away, grimacing at the oversensitivity.

Steve looked down at himself. Cum stained the edge of his shirt  and the jeans below, and his hands were still tacky and wet. Even worse was what couldn't be seen, the mess in his pants that seemed worse every time Steve moved. "Talk about your walk of shame," he mumbled. Patting Eddie's shoulder with the back of his hand, he said out loud, "Scoot back so I can turn the sink on?"

Eddie obliged, stepping as far back as the bathroom walls would let him. Steve hopped down from the counter and turned to wash his hands. He could feel Eddie's eyes on him in the mirror, but didn't bother making eye contact, content to let his boyfriend look his fill. It made Steve feel secure, anyway, like Eddie's gaze was holding him down. Like Eddie's eyes on him were what made him real.

After drying his hands, Steve dabbed  ineffectually at the cum stains on his t-shirt with a paper towel. Most of the stickiness faded, from the outside, anyway, but there were still obviously dark spots on the fabric. His jeans were even more obvious, the light wash dark and off-colored in the places Eddie had marked him.

"Well, you said you wanted them to know," Eddie said, laughing, but with none of the light-heartedness he'd had just moments before. He sounded nervous, actually, his voice shaking in a way Steve hadn't heard him sound in a long time.

Steve lowered his hand, grip loosening around the towel. "They were going to know what we were doing in here whether it comes out or not, Eddie," Steve said, slowly. Maybe they would have had a chance of dodging the gossip mongers if Steve hadn't spent half the party clinging to Eddie's side, but none of what they'd done tonight was exactly subtle. Sure, they had plausible deniability, and Steve had enough of a reputation left that people would at least hesitate before they accused him of being a queer. There wouldn't be an angry mob. Whatever hate followed them for this would be much more polite than that, but there was no way tongues wouldn't be wagging about Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington disappearing upstairs at a party.

Eddie's eyes slid away from his. "There's no way anyone is going to buy you hooking up with me," Eddie said, and-- Steve wished he could just chalk it up to insecurity, but Eddie honestly sounded like that was the hopeful outcome, like he was hoping no one would ever know how much Steve loved him. Steve knew it was the cause of years of homophobia and harassment, not because of him, but it was still hard not to feel hurt.

He chose his words carefully. "Not to brag, but people are going to notice if I never look at a girl again," Steve said. He dropped the towel in the trash, feeling ridiculous trying to have a serious conversation still holding a cum-stained piece of paper. "And I'm possessive as hell. People were always going to find out, one day. It might as well be now."

"Are you…" Eddie huffed, his eyes sliding away from Steve. "I'm trying not to do that thing where I assume you're going to be a victim of some terrible evil."

"Thanks," Steve said, his voice dry.

"But it's going to be bad for you," Eddie said, "in a way it wasn't for me. No one ever expected me to be anything else, but you– Your family –"

"Yeah, there's gonna be a lot of shit that sucks, Eddie, but when the alternative is pretending I don't love you for the foreseeable future, I think it's worth it." Steve took Eddie's hand in his. "I want to love you out loud, every fucking second that I possibly can. And if someone has a problem with it, then they can try and stop me, sure. But I don't think there's a goddamn thing they can do to me that Vecna didn't try, first."

Despite himself, Eddie laughed, his face full of that fond exasperation that so often followed Steve around these days. "Well, when you put it like that, I guess there's nothing to worry about."

"Now you're getting it." Steve pressed a kiss to the corner of Eddie's mouth, and then pulled back, smiling. "So are you going to get me out of this hellhole, or what?"

"This was your idea!" Eddie protested, even as he unlocked the door and opened it slowly.

It was hard to drop the secrecy completely, all the big talk falling to the wayside when faced with reality. They stepped into the hallway gingerly, their guards sliding back up around them as they slipped back into real life. On the stairs down, their hands parted without thought, the comfort of the grip dissolving in fear. But Steve stayed close, and didn't bother putting a platonic distance between them even when he felt the burning gaze of his old friends settle on his skin.

"Do you want to say goodbye to Bev?" Steve asked, leaning in to speak over the music. That was his excuse, anyway.

Once they were inside the cabin, everyone began fighting over who would get which of the four bedrooms. Olivia and Michael ended up in the master, while Ashton and Calum ended up in the room with two twin beds together. That left Brinley and Luke the other two bedrooms, which were connected by a bathroom. Brinley tried her hardest not to act too nervous about it, but the idea of sleeping only a room away from Luke freaked her out a little bit.

Lately, Brinley was trying to be more open about a friendship with Luke, but she was finding it harder and harder to be close to him without old feelings dredging up inside of her. When the boy had fallen asleep on her shoulder in the car, she should’ve been annoyed and shaken him off, but instead, she found herself looking down at him fondly. Despite her attempts to be subtle about it, she still caught Calum giving her a knowing look in the rearview mirror. This weekend was going to be the true test of whether she could be friends with Luke. She was past the point of pretending like she didn’t want him in her life, but she still refused to believe that she wanted to get back together with him. There were just too many things unresolved between the two of them, but for some reason the idea was still niggling in the back of her mind that maybe they could work things out. She worked hard to fight those thoughts, deciding to distract herself by curling up next to the fireplace with a book she’d brought after everyone was settled.

As Brinley predicted, Ashton barely waited for the sun to go down before he brought the alcohol out. Brinley really didn’t like to start drinking so early, but it was hard for her to resist whenever the curly haired man blended up a margarita for her.

Normally, she wasn’t much of a binge drinker, but Ashton was so good at making drinks that it was hard for her to stop. Within an hour, the whole group was well on their way to wasted. She and Olivia had been sitting on the couch, giggling as they watched the boys play Mario Kart.  It was always amusing how competitive they got, especially Michael.

“So,” Olivia said in a low voice, turning her body towards her. “I heard you and Luke were cuddling in the car.”

Brinley let out an affronted noise and reached over to pinch her friend’s side. She was glad the boys were too wrapped up in their game to notice how red her face had gotten.  “We were not cuddling. He just accidentally fell asleep on my shoulder.”

“There is no way that was an accident,” Olivia pointed out.

The girl pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to glance at Luke. Desperate to get the attention off herself, she changed the subject. “What about you and Michael? Have you guys talked about what’s gonna happen when he goes back to Los Angeles?”

Brinley immediately regretted asking when she saw the way Olivia’s face fell. “No. I mean, we’ll probably just do the same thing we always do.”

“Which is what? Pine over each other for months?”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “I do not pine over him,” she insisted. “Like you said, he’s going back to LA. Where there are hundreds of beautiful girls lining up to go out with him. He’s not going to want to give that up.” Rarely did Brinley ever see her best friend show her insecure side and it made her sad. Anyone would be lucky to be with Olivia, and she was pretty sure Michael was well aware of that.

“You don’t know that,” Brinley said softly. “You guys have to talk about it. That’s the only way things are ever going to get resolved.”

“Because talking about things is working out so well for you and Luke,” Olivia snapped, her harsh tone taking Brinley aback. Remorse immediately flooded the girl’s features and she sighed, reaching over for her hand. “I’m sorry, that was bitchy. I just… I don’t know what I want, and I sure as hell don’t know what he wants.”

Brinley took a deep breath and squeezed Olivia’s hand. She didn’t really know what to say – she was the last person anyone should’ve been taking relationship advice from. Luke was the only person she’d ever been in a serious relationship with, and it clearly hadn’t worked out well. “I just want you to be happy, Liv,” she murmured.

As if she had put on a mask, the vulnerability on Olivia’s face had disappeared and was replaced with her usual cool expression. Brinley knew talking about feelings was far from Olivia’s strong suit and way out of her comfort zone, even if it was with her best friend. “You know what will make me happy? More alcohol. Come on, let’s crack open that other bottle of tequila.”

--

Since they’d started drinking so early, most everyone was down for the count by midnight. Luke had been the first to retire to his bedroom, and unable to handle how overly handsy Olivia and Michael were, Brinley had done the same soon after. Once she changed into a pair of shorts and a comfy t shirt, she made her way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. She made a conscious effort to wash her face every night, no matter how drunk or tired she was.

While she was washing her face, a knock came from the door connected to Luke’s bedroom, causing her to jump. “Brin, you’ve been in there forever and I can’t go to sleep until I brush my teeth,” Luke whined through the door. She couldn’t help but be a bit amused – Luke always turned into a giant child whenever he was drunk.

“You can come brush your teeth,” she said with a small laugh. Brinley stumbled over to the door to let him in, biting down on her bottom lip as she was met with his bare chest. She was way too drunk to properly deal with a shirtless Luke, so she quickly turned away, trying not to trip as she made her way back over to the sink.

Luke walked over to the sink as well, and in unison, the two of them brushed their teeth. They’d done this a hundred times before, and in Brinley’s drunken state, it had her feeling a little sentimental. She glanced over at Luke to see him already looking over at her, causing her to immediately look away. Once she was finished, she set her toothbrush down, murmuring a quick goodnight.

Before she could make it to her door, Luke stopped her. “Wanna watch Netflix with me for a little bit?”

She turned towards him with a raised brow. “I thought you were tired,” She said softly, knowing she should say no. The hopeful look on Luke’s face was making it hard.

“I could stay up for a little bit,” he insisted. “We can watch Parks and Rec, or whatever you want.”

With a sigh, Brinley nodded. “I’m not that tired anyway,” she said, following Luke into his room.

They sat on the bed with Luke’s laptop open in front of them, and the way their shoulders were brushing was enough to sober Brinley up a bit. Luke was so close, and shirtless, and they were in the same bed that they had spent so many nights together in the past. She tried her hardest to act as normal as possible, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

Once the show started, it was easy for her to get invested. She’d probably seen every episode of this show a hundred times, but it always managed to make her laugh just as hard as when she first watched it. She was giggling at something Chris Pratt had said on screen when she felt Luke’s eyes on her.

“What?” She wondered, looking over at him. “That was funny!”

Luke shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “I just love your laugh,” he murmured. “Especially the little snort.”

Her cheeks flared a bit at his words and she covered her face with her hands. “Shut up,” She said, embarrassed.  

“Hey, don’t hide,” Luke insisted, poking her side. “When will you learn to accept a compliment?”

Brinley couldn’t help but let out a little squeak when he poked her side, still hiding her face and shaking her head again.

“You’re still ticklish, aren’t you?” Luke said with a grin, reaching out to poke her again.

She took her hands off her face to glare at him. “Luke, don’t you- “

Before she could even finish speaking, Luke’s hands were at her ribs, tickling her gently. She flailed a bit, trying her hardest to look stern but she couldn’t help the giggles falling out of her mouth. Brinley had always been ridiculously ticklish and annoyingly, Luke still seemed to know all her most sensitive spots.

“Luke!” She yelped, trying to grab at his hands as she kept giggling. “Luke, seriously, stop, I-I can’t breathe.” After struggling for a few minutes, she successfully grabbed his hands, pressing them down against the mattress at his sides. “You are such a menace.”

“So, I’ve been told,” Luke said with a lazy grin. “You know, you holding me down like this brings back some good memories.”

Brinley pulled her hands away quickly. “Don’t even start,” she warned. Her face was on fire and she wasn’t sure it was ever going to go back to normal with the way Luke was acting. It was very reminiscent of the way he’d been when they were together – unabashedly flirty, a little handsy, always throwing a charming grin in her direction that she was never able to resist. Everything inside of Brinley was telling her that she needed to get out of there before she did something she was going to regret in the morning, but she didn’t move, instead turning back to the computer. “Quit distracting me, this is a good episode.”

“Fine,” Luke said, leaning back against his pillows.

They sat in silence again for a few minutes, but as hard as Brinley tried, she couldn’t get back into the show. She was thinking over everything that had happened that day – Luke falling asleep on her shoulder, the way Calum had looked at her, her conversation with Olivia… she was feeling more confused than ever about what she wanted from Luke. She couldn’t dwell on it right now, not with the alcohol swirling through her veins and with Luke sitting right beside her. She shook the thought off, deciding she needed a distraction.

Brinley paused the show and looked over at Luke. “I think we need to do something about Olivia and Michael.”

The boy furrowed his brows. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”

“Why not? They obviously want to be together but neither one of them want to admit it,” Brinley said, realizing that focusing on Michael and Olivia was the perfect distraction from whatever was going on between her and Luke. Brinley always felt better whenever she had a project. Olivia probably wouldn’t be too happy with her for meddling, but if it ended up with the two of them together, could her friend really complain?

“I still don’t think they’d like us getting involved,” Luke said skeptically.

Her eyes followed the way his hand ran through his curls and she bit her lip, shaking her head.  “Come on, I know you’re tired of dealing with it too,” Brinley said, looking up at him with her best puppy dog eyes. “Come on, please help me.”

When Luke looked back down at her and sighed, she knew she had won. Clearly, all the work she’d done over the years in perfecting her puppy eyes in order to get what she wanted from Luke hadn’t been in vain. “Alright, but can we talk about this in the morning? I don’t think I’m exactly up for scheming right now.”

Brinley nodded a bit too eagerly as she stood up. “Sure, I should probably get some sleep anyway. I’ll tell you my plan in the morning,” she said with a grin, making her way back over to her door. “Goodnight.”

She tried not to notice how fond Luke looked when she glanced at him over her shoulder. “Goodnight, Brin.”

“It was the craziest thing, bro. One minute she was throwing a drink in my face and the next thing I know, she’s got her hand down my pants and her tongue down my throat. I mean, I’m not complaining, but it was confusing as hell.”

Luke rolled his eyes from where he sat on Michael’s couch, listening to him recount the previous evening’s events to Ashton and Calum, Michael hadn’t stopped talking about hooking up with Olivia since they stumbled into his parents’ home early that morning, but thankfully, he’d mostly been too distracted to really pay close attention to his friend anyway. He was unable to stop thinking about his run-in with Brinley the night before.

When he’d decided to come home for Christmas, he’d prepared himself for the worst. He’d known immediately that she wouldn’t want to seem him and honestly, he couldn’t blame her. The two of them had been together for such a long time, had their whole lives planned out with each other, and Luke had selfishly flipped the script on her at the very last minute. He hated himself for it every day.

And god, he had missed her the entire time he’d been gone, but it felt even worse now that he’d laid eyes on her. Brinley had changed so much in their time apart – she was even more gorgeous, which he really hadn’t ever thought would be possible. Though it may have been a little creepy, he’d spent half the night watching her from across the room. He couldn’t stop picturing her long legs in the red dress, the cute way her lips curved up into a smile whenever she’d teased Calum, the delicate blush on her pale cheeks whenever someone gave her a compliment.

The worst part of it all was, despite the changes, Luke could still see all the parts of Brinley that he’d fallen in love with. The parts of her he was still in love with, if he was being honest with himself. He was more fucked than he’d previously realized.

“Earth to Luke,” Ashton’s fingers snapped in front of his face, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you alive in there?”

Luke blinked a few times. “Sorry. I was just…thinking.”

“About Brinley?” Calum questioned bluntly, raising a dark eyebrow at him. Luke had never really been comfortable discussing Brinley with Calum, and since their break up, he’d tried to avoid the topic all together. While the dark-haired man was one of his best friends, he knew that Calum’s history with his ex went back further than Luke’s history with either of them.

Luke chewed on his bottom lip, scratching his fingers along his stubbled jaw nervously. “I just didn’t think that seeing her again was gonna be so hard, you know?” He sighed a bit. “And she wouldn’t even look at me.”

“Well, you did abandon her right before the two of you were supposed to go off to college together, mate. Can you really blame her?” Michael pointed out, barely looking up from his phone. Luke shot him a glare. He didn’t really need a reminder of what he’d done to Brinley. It was already on his mind more than he would ever admit out loud.

Ashton reached over to pinch Michael’s thigh, eliciting a shriek from red-haired boy. “Not helping, Mike.” He looked back at Luke, his eyes soft and pitying. “She probably just needs some time.”

Luke shrugged sadly. At the party, Brinley hadn’t been able to get away from him fast enough – the chances of her changing her mind about wanting to speak to him were probably slim. He wasn’t stupid enough to think that Brinley was still in love with him. Not only was she beautiful, but she also was incredibly smart, talented, funny, and had the kindest soul out of anyone Luke had ever met. If they hadn’t already, it was only a matter of time before someone else came into her life and swept her off her feet, treated her the way she deserved to be treated. Luke was afraid that he was too late.

“She looked good, though, right? Like…she looks like she’s happy,” Luke said finally. Even if she was never his again, that was all he wanted for her.

He watched as Calum shared a look with Ashton he couldn’t quite read before he reached over to pat Luke’s thigh. “Yeah, man. She’s happy.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The cold air stung his skin as he walked outside, causing him to curse under his breath. When he’d promised his mother he’d come home for the holidays, he’d forgotten how goddamn cold it got there. He didn’t have a lot of warm clothes since he lived in Los Angeles, so he wrapped himself up in one of Jack’s old winter coats. There was a gap between the sleeve and the gloves he was wearing, but it was better than nothing.

Normally, Luke avoided going outside at all costs in the winter, but after being locked up in his childhood bedroom for nearly a week, his mother forced him out of the house with a grocery list. Worst of all, he was without a car, so he had no choice but to make the small trek to the store on foot. It was only about a ten-minute walk, but the frigid weather made it feel like hours.

His cheeks and the tips of his ears were red by the time he arrived at the store. The heat was blasting, something he was grateful for when he walked inside. He grabbed a cart and furrowed his brows as he looked at his mother’s list. It occurred to him that he hadn’t been grocery shopping since he moved to Los Angeles. Most of the time, Ashton took care of that sort of thing or they ate take out. “Milk, egg whites, cereal…” he mumbled to himself underneath his breath as he wandered down the aisles, putting the items in the cart. He was pretty sure he had grabbed the wrong brand of cereal, but it was his mother’s own fault for sending him here.

He stood in front of the milk, thoughtfully looking between all the different types. His mother had been on a health kick lately, so would she want almond milk instead? Was he supposed to buy the store’s off brand version since it was cheaper? Luke had been standing there for far too long whenever he heard his name called out by a sweet little voice.

Brinley turned the corner, an exasperated look on her face as she tried to stop her little sister who was barreling towards Luke. He took in a sharp breath as he saw her. She was only in a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt, her hair thrown messily on top of her head, but she still looked as beautiful as ever to him. “Mallory, no running! You’re going to hurt yourself.”

The man grinned as he bent down to Mallory’s level, catching her when she launched herself into his arms. Luke had always had a soft spot for the younger girl, partly because she was the spitting image of her sister. He was a little amazed at how much she’d grown since he’d last seen her, a heavier weight against him than he was used to.

“There is no way you’re Mallory,” He said teasingly. “You are far too big to Mallory.”

Mallory rolled her eyes, propping a hand on her hip as she looked at him. “That’s ‘cause I grew up, dummy.”

“Mallory, be polite,” Brinley chastised. She locked eyes with Luke for a moment before she looked away with flushed cheeks.

Luke turned his attention back to the younger girl. “My apologies, Ms. All Grown Up. Who said you could grow up while I was gone, hm?”

His smile only grew as the little girl giggled, revealing her missing tooth. “I can’t help it!” She insisted, gripping Luke’s hand once he stood up.

Looking at Brinley again, he dared to speak. “It’s good to see you. It’s a shame we didn’t get to talk at the party.”

Brinley tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking up at him through her long eyelashes. “Oh, well… you know, Olivia kind of loses her mind when Michael’s around. I had to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid.”

“Right,” Luke said with a nod, looking back down as Mallory started tugging on his sleeve.

“Luke, Luke! I’m in a Christmas play at my school. I play an angel!” She said excitedly.

Luke grinned. “An angel, huh? How fitting,” he teased, smoothing down her hair.

Mallory rose up on her tiptoes to speak to him. “Will you come see it?”

Brinley coughed. “Mal, I’m sure Luke is really busy…”

Although he knew Brinley didn’t really want him around, he hated the idea of disappointing Mallory by saying no. “I’m actually really not that busy,” he blurted out, chewing on his lip again. “I’d love to come, Mallory. If it’s okay with your sister.”

He felt only slightly guilty as Mallory turned towards her older sister with big eyes, a small pout forming on her lips. “Can he come? Pleaseeee?”

The older girl let out a sigh, giving Luke an exasperated look. “I guess so. Can you let me talk to Luke alone for a second?”

Mallory’s smile was wide as she hugged Luke around his legs for a moment. “Bye Lukey!”

“Bye, petal,” Luke said fondly.

He bit his lip as Mallory ran back over to their nearby cart, pulling the doll she’d left inside out. He’d gotten enough lectures from Brinley to know when she was about to chastise him about something, so he prepared himself as he looked at her. “Brin, look…”

“Don’t call me that,” Brinley snapped, holding one finger up to cut his sentence off.  Her gaze felt like it was piercing right through him and he had never felt quite so vulnerable in his life. “I know we’re going to be seeing each other a lot over the next few weeks, but I want to make it clear that I’m not interested in reconciling with you. You can come to her play, and we can be civil when we’re with our friends, but I don’t want anything to do with you other than that?”

At her words, Luke felt his heart jump into his throat. While he didn’t necessarily expect her to jump back into his arms, he at least thought she’d be willing to talk things out. “Can’t you just give me a chance to explain?” He said, a bit more pleadingly than he would’ve liked. “There’s so many things I have to say to you if you’d just give me five minutes.”

Brinley let out a humorless laugh. “If you wanted to explain yourself that bad, you would’ve done it by now. You can’t just show up here after all of this time and expect me to just bend to your will and listen to you.” She insisted. “I just… I just want to forget everything that happened between us. I’m done, I’ve moved on. And I suggest you do the same.”

Luke gaped after her as she stalked back over to Mallory. He’d been on the receiving end Brinley’s anger before, but he had never experienced her being so outwardly harsh. He felt like there was a gaping hole in his chest as he watched her walk away.

As he finished up the rest of his shopping, he felt numb, like he was on autopilot. The wind blew the cold air harshly around him as he walked, but it barely affected him. He’d always known that he’d fucked things up with Brinley, but it was starting to hit him that things between them were messed up beyond repair. The girl he loved wanted nothing to do with him anymore, and it hurt.

“I don’t know how I feel about this,” Brinley complained as she scrutinized the red dress she was wearing in the mirror. When she tried it on in the store, she loved the way it looked on her – tight enough to give the illusion that she had curves, ending at the perfect length right above her knees – but now it felt all wrong. “Maybe I just shouldn’t go to the party.”

Her best friend rolled her eyes from where she was sprawled out over Brinley’s childhood bed, having gotten ready thirty minutes ago. She haphazardly threw on an off the shoulder red sweater and tucked it into a green skirt, put on some mascara, brushed her long hair a few times and managed to look amazing. Brinley only resented Olivia a little bit for her ability to always look effortlessly beautiful.

“It’s the first time we’ve been able to see each other since the summer. You’re not ditching me,” Olivia insisted, moving off the bed to stand behind Brinley, placing her freshly manicured hand on her shoulder. “I know it’s going to be hard, but you can’t avoid him forever, Brin. It’s a small town.”

Brinley let out a long sigh. She’d been on Christmas break in her hometown for a week, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t been trying to avoid running into her ex-boyfriend. She hadn’t seen him since their break up over a year ago, when he’d left for Los Angeles without warning to start a music career. That was right before she’d started her freshman year of university. Now, she was halfway through her sophomore year, and was thriving. Since arriving at college, she landed an on-campus job as a peer mentor for freshmen, joined a sorority, and was passing all her classes with flying colors. It was hard for her to not let the break up destroy her, and she was scared that seeing him again was going to ruin all the progress she’d made.

“I’ll have you know I am 100% percent, completely and totally over Luke Hemmings,” she said as she straightened her shoulders and turned back around towards her friend. “This isn’t about him.”

Olivia rose an eyebrow, giving her a disbelieving look. “If you’re 100% percent over him, don’t you want to rub it in his face? Show him hot you look and how much better off you are without him?”

Brinley pursed her lips together. She knew Olivia was right, she couldn’t spend the next three weeks avoiding Luke. The likelihood of running into him in their small town was too high and it was only a matter of time. She needed to get it over with. Plus… it would be pretty satisfying for Luke to see how well she was doing without him.

“Alright, fine, you’ve convinced me,” she finally relinquished, slipping on a pair of nude heels before she grabbed her coat. “But if it’s a total disaster, you’re buying me pizza afterwards.”

The brunette rolled her eyes. “Deal,” she said, grabbing Brinley’s hand and dragging her towards the door. “Let’s go. I promise when Luke sees you, he’s going to regret the day he left.”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Justin Bieber’s voice was blaring through the speakers when she and Olivia walked into the crowded house. Familiar faces were scattered in groups around the large living room – talking, smoking weed, doing shots, dancing – and she immediately felt nostalgic. It was almost like she was in high school again. The warm feeling faded almost instantly when she realized that every memory she had from high school was with Luke.

Desperately needing a drink, she attempted to drag Olivia to the kitchen, but she was already distracted by the boy that approached her. She sighed as she made her way through the crowd, smiling and waving at a few people, silently praying that no one was going to try to have a conversation with her.

“Hey Dorsey!” A familiar voice called out, followed by a strong pair of tattooed arms wrapping around her waist to lift her off the ground.

She squealed as she attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, unable to stop herself from giggling. “Calum, put me down,” she insisted, kicking her feet a bit until he set her back on the ground. She turned toward him and immediately wrapped her arms around his neck in a hug. “I missed you so much.”

Calum had been one of her best friends since middle school, bonding quickly after he threatened to punch a kid who attempted to look up her skirt during their lunch period. They were inseparable until high school when he and three other guys started a band and she was forced to share her best friend with them. It didn’t take her long to warm up to them, especially one in particular.

He grinned down at her after they pulled away from the hug. “I missed you too, Brin,” he replied fondly. “Let’s get you a drink and you can tell me all about your fancy college life.”

Brinley rolled her eyes playfully as she led him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he made her a drink. “Please, my life is not nearly as exciting as yours, rock star. Although, I suppose you can’t read about mine on the internet.”

“Oh, so you’ve been keeping tabs on us, huh?” Calum rose an eyebrow, giving her a look that she didn’t quite like. She tried her hardest to avoid reading too much about the band, about Luke, but it was hard when they were all over the place. She kept it to a bare minimum as not to obsess over it too much. From what she had gathered from her phone calls with Calum, the tabloids always exaggerated information and never really got the full story.

She opened her mouth to reply in an attempt to defend herself, but she was saved by another voice cutting into their conversation. “What have I told you about trying to steal my best friend away from me?”

“Hey! You were the one who stole him from me first.” Brinley protested, grinning as Ashton slung an arm over her shoulder. She leaned into his side, looking up at him. “But you can keep him. I’m sure he’ll be annoying the fuck out of me within five minutes.”

“Oh, thanks so much, Brin,” Calum replied sarcastically before he began poking at Ashton. It was only a matter of seconds before the two of them were bickering again, easily getting wrapped up in each other. Brinley took a long sip of the drink Cal made her, wrinkling her nose as she realized just how much vodka was in it. She lifted her eyes to look around the party, her gaze landing on him almost immediately, and she nearly whimpered as she took in his appearance. She’d seen pictures on social media, of course, but nothing could have prepared Brinley for seeing Luke Hemmings again in person. He looked so much older. His once soft, sweet baby face was replaced with prominent cheekbones and a strong jawline littered with stubble and he had grown even taller, much to her chagrin. Brinley tried her hardest not to, but she couldn’t help but think that he looked gorgeous. She’d never seen a boy fill out a pair of skinny jeans than Luke did, and he looked effortlessly cool as ever with a dark blue button up over the t shirt he was wearing. His flattened hair peeked out from underneath the backwards snapback he was wearing, soft strains of the dark blonde hair brushing against his forehead.

She probably could have stared at him all night, if it weren’t for the realization that he was making his way towards her with Michael by his side. Brinley panicked, immediately clutching onto Calum’s arm. “I can’t see him right now.”

Calum managed to drag himself away from Ashton for a moment, looking around for a moment before his own eyes landed on Luke. “It’s going to be obvious if you just run away,” he pointed out.

Brinley knew he was right – she was trapped and there wasn’t much she could do about it. She needed to keep at least a semblance of her normalcy. She took a deep breath as the two boys finally reached their group, her brown eyes lifting to meet the piercing gaze of Luke’s blue.

“Hi,” Luke said gently, his lips quirking up into a hesitant smile.

“Hi,” She replied. Her eyes were wide as she looked at him, feeling her chest tighten.

Everyone was silent for a moment as the two of them stared at one another. Finally, Michael broke the silence with a cough. “Hey, Brinley, is Liv here?”

Brinley tore her eyes away from Luke for a moment to glare at Michael. “Don’t you dare go bother her, Clifford. She’s with a guy and she doesn’t need you showing up to ruin it.”

She watched as Michael’s eyes darkened for a brief moment before he walked away, probably in search of Olivia. Brinley let out a groan. She was going to have to deal with Olivia’s sour mood later, if her history with Michael was anything to go by.

Speaking of history… Brinley looked back up at Luke, who was still staring at her. She felt her cheeks heat up underneath the intensity of his gaze. When he opened his mouth to speak again, Brinley felt her heart rise up in her chest in panic. She couldn’t do this right now.

“I should probably go make sure Olivia doesn’t punch Michael in the face. It was good to see you though,” she said a bit too loudly, awkwardly patting Luke’s chest as she moved past him quickly.

She ignored Calum calling after her, pushing through the crowd to find Olivia so they could get the hell out of there. She had been silly to think that she would be able to see Luke without completely freaking out, especially when he looked as amazing as he did. Who was she kidding? She was 100% not over Luke Hemmings.