you approached him when he said your nickname. it was strange, actually. steve didn’t usually call you like this. during quarantine, your brother’s relationship with steve hadn’t been that good.

seeing him struggle, you just waited for him to speak. steve finally looked at you.

“alright, henderson. i need you to fix this thing.” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “i don’t know why, my voice can’t be heard in the headphones.”

“oh, let me see…” you leaned in, touching and examining the lit buttons in front of you. it turned out the button connecting to the mic hadn’t been pressed yet.

“done. try it now.”

“check, check. test.”

“alright, thank you, henderson.”

you nodded, and he patted your head playfully.

“tch—”

you scoffed, more amused than annoyed, chuckling as you swatted his hand away just as he started to go on air. now it was steve’s turn to broadcast, with robin as his co-anchor.

you watched him as he started speaking, pride settling in your chest. he always made you feel like you belonged here. he was your role model—like the older brother you never asked for. someone who made you think he’d be a great dad and husband someday.

you didn’t even notice you were smiling at the big glass window in front of you, watching how steve pressed buttons and worked, until nancy arrived and caught you staring at him.

***

nancy slowed to a stop near the doorway, unnoticed. through the glass, she saw you standing close to steve, your shoulder almost brushing his arm as he leaned over the console. the way he spoke to you was quieter than usual, softer, and you listened like it mattered—like you always listened. then he smiled, brief but real, and you smiled back without even realizing it. nancy felt something twist in her chest, sharp and unfamiliar. it wasn’t loud or obvious, nothing she could point at and say this. just a thought she couldn’t shake as she watched you two exist so easily together: since when does steve look at someone like that?

"oh hey nancy!" you finally looking away from that big glass window to looking at nancy as you notice she's approached you

“hey,” she said, soft.

nancy glanced past you, toward the glass window, where steve’s voice filled the room through the speakers. “you’re here a lot,” she said lightly. “with him, i mean.”

you blinked, then shrugged. “yeah. someone’s gotta make sure he doesn’t break the equipment.”

nancy smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “guess he trusts you.”

“i think he just panics,” you said, half-joking.

her gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary before she nodded. “right. still… it’s nice. having someone like that.”

you didn’t catch the way her fingers curled around her notebook as she stepped back.

***

nancy knew she wasn’t supposed to feel jealous. or whatever this was. she was still with jonathan—he was there, living in her house now, even if they didn’t share a room.

and yet, seeing it still hurt. seeing the person who used to be there for you smile at someone else. not in a loud way, not even in a way that meant anything. just enough to make her chest tighten.

don’t be selfish, she told herself. you don’t get to feel this.

but was it really selfish—to feel something when a place that once felt like yours suddenly didn’t anymore?

***

steve was still on air, his voice steady through the speakers, filling every corner of the squawk radio. nancy stood in the small kitchen, busying herself with the coffee pot, though her eyes kept drifting back—toward the booth, toward you.

you stayed where you were, leaning lightly against the counter, watching steve through the glass as he talked and laughed into the mic. there was something grounding about it, the way he always sounded so sure when he was behind that console.

nancy stirred her coffee a little longer than necessary. she told herself she was just tired, just overthinking. still, every time she looked up, she found you there—quiet, attentive, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

steve glanced up while it's robin turn to talked, catching your reflection in the glass. you smiled without thinking, small and familiar. he smiled back before remembering himself and turning to the mic again.

the coffee finished brewing with a soft click. nancy poured it slowly, carefully, as if moving too fast might make the feeling in her chest harder to ignore.

you didn’t mean to startle her. one second you were leaning by the counter, the next you were already in the small kitchen, reaching for the kettle.

“oh—” you said casually, “you like coffee?”

nancy looked up from her mug. “yeah. i do.”

you hummed, setting another cup on the counter. “i’m more of a tea person, honestly. is coffee really that good?”

as you spoke, you moved on autopilot—tea bag in one cup, coffee grounds in the other. the routine felt familiar, practiced. you added sugar, a little too much without thinking, then reached for the kettle again.

nancy watched you for a second. then, carefully, “that coffee’s… not for you, right?”

you glanced down. “oh. no, it’s for steve.”

she paused. “he doesn’t like it too sweet.”

your hand stopped mid-air.

…huh.

you looked at the cup again, then at the sugar spoon you’d already emptied. inside, something sparked—quick and amused. since when does she know that?

you hid it behind a small grin, nudging the cup slightly away. “right. guess i wasn’t thinking.”

nancy nodded, but her brows knit together, like she’d said too much without realizing it. the silence stretched, thin but not uncomfortable.

you stirred your tea, biting back a smile as a thought crossed your mind. okay… what’s going on with her?

***

you were never there long enough to notice the strange things—your job ended at two, and whatever happened after that was never yours to know.

your shift ended at two. it always did.

by then, the afternoon crew would start drifting in—people with places to be, errands to run, lives that didn’t quite revolve around the squawk radio. you were just there to keep things running, to make sure nothing buzzed or cut out when it wasn’t supposed to.

you unplugged the headphones, carefully wrapping the wires like you always did. steve drank his coffee and step closer from your sight.

“you heading out?” steve asked, leaning against the doorframe.

you nodded. “yeah. i’m done for the day.”

eight to two. that was your window. technical staff. fill-in. nothing permanent, nothing dangerous. just buttons, cables, and coffee cups left behind.

whatever else went on in hawkins—whatever people whispered about when they thought no one was listening—never seemed to touch you. and you were fine with that.

you grabbed your bag, casting one last look through the glass before stepping outside, unaware of how much was always happening just out of reach.

it was already eight when you finally settled onto the couch at home, one leg tucked under you as your mom’s cat curled up in your lap. you absentmindedly ran your fingers through its fur, listening to it purr like it had no worries in the world.

the front door opened not long after.

“ugh,” dustin’s voice followed, shoes kicked off with zero grace.

you looked up. his hair was messier than usual, curls sticking out in every direction, backpack hanging off one shoulder like he’d lost a fight with gravity.

“wow,” you said. “you look like you just survived something.”

dustin groaned, dropping onto the chair across from you. “don’t ask.”

“that bad?”

“worse. school-terrible.”

you hummed, still petting the cat. “you want food or emotional support?”

“neither,” he muttered.

there was a pause, then you tilted your head, something clicking in your mind. steve. nancy. the coffee. the sugar. the way nancy had watched.

“…hey,” you said slowly.

dustin squinted at you. “why do you sound like that.”

“random question,” you continued. “steve and nancy… they were a thing, right?”

dustin blinked. “…yeah? like. a big thing. where have you been?”

“okay, first of all, rude,” you said. “second—just confirming.”

he leaned back. “they dated. broke up. messy. emotional. whole deal.”

you frowned a little, more curious than shocked. “huh.”

dustin immediately narrowed his eyes. “why.”

“no reason,” you said quickly. then paused. “…okay, maybe a little reason.”

the cat shifted in your lap as you shrugged. “nancy was acting kinda funny today. like—extra attentive. asking me stuff. noticing things.”

dustin’s brows knit together. “about steve?”

“about me,” you corrected, snorting. “which is the weird part. i mean—who does that?”

dustin stared at you for a second. then—

“oh.”

“what.”

“nothing,” he said too fast.

“dustin.”

he sighed. “i’m just saying—steve has that effect on people.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “that’s not what i mean. it was just… funny. like she was lowkey sizing me out or something.”

dustin made a face. “that’s… weird.”

“right?” you said, amused. “i was like...” you shrughef again

dustin didn’t laugh. instead, he looked thoughtful. a little too thoughtful.

“…so,” you said, squinting at him now. “why do you suddenly look like that.”

“i don’t,” he said.

“you do.”

he sighed again. “look, i’m just saying—nancy’s complicated.”

you leaned back, still smiling faintly. “yeah. i noticed.”

you shifted on the couch, the cat still warm in your lap. after a moment, you glanced back at dustin.

“okay,” you said lightly, “now your turn. what actually happened at school?”

dustin stiffened. just a little. barely noticeable—if you didn’t know him.

“nothing,” he said too fast.

you hummed. “you look like ‘nothing’ just punched you in the face.”

he huffed out a laugh, short and humorless. “it’s just… people.”

“people being people?”

he shrugged. “yeah. something like that.”

you watched him for a second, careful. “you wanna talk about it?”

dustin shook his head immediately. “no. i’m fine.”

there it was. that word. fine.

you didn’t push. instead, you reached over and nudged his knee with your foot. “okay. just checking.”

silence settled between you, thick but familiar. dustin picked at the strap of his backpack, eyes fixed on the floor.

“…steve hasn’t been around much,” you said eventually, casual on purpose.

dustin’s jaw tightened. “he’s busy.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you tilted your head. “you guys okay?”

he didn’t answer right away. when he did, his voice was quieter. “he’s got stuff. i’ve got stuff.”

you nodded slowly. “stuff you don’t wanna talk about.”

“…yeah.”

the cat shifted as you scratched behind its ears. “you know you don’t have to protect everyone all the time, right?”

dustin swallowed. “someone has to.”

you looked at him then—really looked. the exhaustion, the way he seemed smaller somehow.

“you don’t have to do it alone,” you said gently.

he didn’t look at you. but his shoulders sagged, just a fraction.

“i know,” he muttered.

and you had the feeling he didn’t. not really.

***

today, steve wasn’t behind the mic.

robin was the one on air this time, her voice bright and steady as it filled the station. steve stood beside her instead, hands hovering over the soundboard, timing effects and cues like it was second nature. yesterday they’d shared the broadcast. today, they switched.

you stayed in your usual spot, seated where you could see everything—wires, machines, blinking lights. it was your job to watch. to wait. to make sure nothing went wrong again.

as far as you knew, the squawk radio ran on more people than it ever showed. staff in and out, schedules shifting, roles overlapping. robin and steve were the voices. nancy was the one keeping everything together, clipboard in hand, moving from room to room like she belonged everywhere at once.

and then there was jonathan.

you weren’t entirely sure what he did. every time you saw him, he was just… there. trailing after nancy, lingering by doorways, following her from one corner of the station to another. he never touched the equipment. never spoke into the mic. never seemed to have a task.

you glanced back at the booth. steve caught your eye through the glass and lifted a hand slightly, a silent check-in. everything okay?

you gave him a small nod and turned back to the machines, eyes scanning cables and dials. whatever everyone else had going on—relationships, tension, things unspoken—you stayed where you were. watching. listening. making sure the sound didn’t cut out.

that was your place here. at least, that’s what you thought.

***

it didn’t start loud. just a sharp pop—then the lights on the soundboard flickered all at once.

“uh—” robin’s voice wavered through the speakers.

steve froze. “that’s not supposed to do that.”

you were already on your feet. “yeah, no kidding.”

another flicker. then a faint crackle, like static biting back. one of the buttons sparked—small, but enough to make everyone flinch.

“okay, okay,” you said quickly, crouching beside the console. “don’t touch anything yet.”

“what’s happening?” steve asked, genuinely confused.

you frowned, scanning the panel. “i don't know. it's not—this isn't even part of my usual scope.”

“great,” he muttered.

steve straight out of the booth and grabbed the walkie-talkie. “dust—”

“i'm busy,” dustin’s voice shot back immediately.

steve blinked. “wow. rude.”

“what happen? you know, not all the problems you face i was the one to have to keep fix all your problems” dustin snapped, “but sure what happen? did my sister there?”

“she is, but she clueless too not just me okay. it's not just my problem”

“okay. shit—i have to go okay. just read the manual book”

nancy was already moving, rifling through a cabinet. “manual. there should be one.”

“found it”—thick, worn, way too many tabs sticking out. the five of you ended up crowding around the counter, steve and you leaning in, robin peering over your shoulder, jonathan hovering uselessly.

nancy flipped through the pages, brow furrowed. “okay—here. power feedback issue.”

steve leaned closer to see—

and his chest brushed against her back. his hands also brushing her slightly when steve pointed to the manual book. “oh right there”

it was nothing. barely there. accidental.

but everyone noticed. even jonathan looks very annoyed when he sees steve touching his girlfriend. especially when seeing nancy's reaction to that accidental touch.

everyone except steve.

nancy’s fingers stilled on the page. her breath caught—just a fraction. she cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the manual like it had suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

you glanced between them, eyebrows lifting slightly. robin’s mouth twitched.

steve, completely unaware, pulled his hand a bit away from nancy's hand and pointed at the diagram. “so if we just reset this part—”

“uh—yeah,” nancy said quickly, nodding a little too fast. “yeah. that.”

you looked back down at the console, lips curving despite yourself. oh. interesting.

sparks or not, something else was definitely short-circuiting in the room.

***

the wind outside the station is louder than it looks from inside the booth.

the tower stands a few meters away, tall and thin against the bright sky. steve squints upward, one hand shielding his eyes. it turns out the problem is on top of the tower. according to the manual—there was an error or cable disconnection.

you see an argument between steve and jonathan from from a distance. you are used to seeing them never get along. until finally steve headed to a place that looked like a place to turn off the electricity so he could climb the tower to the top.

***

“you have to turn off the electricity first,” robin says, eyes fixed on steve. “or you’ll get electrocuted.”

“yeah, sure,” steve replies, already moving. “i’m not an idiot.”

he walks toward the breaker panel, the metal door creaking when he pulls it open. inside, rows of switches and cables hum softly. steve grips the main lever and pulls it down.

the sound dies immediately.

nancy follows him without thinking.

“you know that’s really dangerous, right?” she says, stopping a step behind him. “you don’t have to do this. it doesn’t have to be you.”

steve glances back at her, surprised. “someone has to.”

“yeah, but you can call someone who actually works with this stuff,” nancy insists. “you’re not—”

“nance,” steve cuts in gently, not annoyed. “i know.”

he turns back to the panel, checking the switches one more time. the silence feels heavier than the hum ever did.

“i’ve got it under control,” he adds, quieter now.

nancy presses her lips together, clearly unconvinced. she stays anyway, watching his hands like she can somehow stop something bad from happening just by being there.

steve doesn’t tell her to leave.

***

jonathan watches nancy walk after steve, her steps quick, her voice low but urgent.

he exhales through his nose.

of course.

in his head, it’s simple. steve always does this—steps in, takes risks, plays the hero. and nancy always notices. always follows.

the moment the electricity shuts down, jonathan makes a decision.

“i’ll go first,” he says, already grabbing the ladder.

no one really stops him.

metal groans softly as he starts climbing the tower, hands gripping the cold rungs. halfway up, he hears footsteps below.

steve finally comes out of the panel room, rolling his shoulders, looking up.

“wow,” steve calls out. “didn’t know this was a competition.”

jonathan doesn’t look down. “someone has to fix it.”

steve snorts. “hell—” steve felt challenged and joined in

nancy lets out a long sigh behind them.

great. first steve. now this.

she crosses her arms, staring up at the tower, watching her boyfriend climb like he suddenly has something to prove, watching steve already climbed up too there like he always does—too confident.

jonathan never used to do this. he used to stay quiet. stay back.

now he’s climbing a tower.

nancy rubs her forehead, muttering under her breath. “unbelievable.”

and for a split second, she wonders when exactly everything started feeling this complicated again.

***

you watch the whole thing from where you stand, arms loosely crossed, trying not to look too obvious.

it’s… kind of entertaining.

the way jonathan climbs first, stiff and determined. the way steve looks at him, smirking like this is some unspoken challenge. and nancy—standing looking up at them, clearly tired, clearly caught in the middle.

oh.

oh.

you tilt your head slightly.

so that’s what this is.

it’s not just tension. not just awkwardness. it’s a triangle—sharp edges and all. something unfinished, something no one wants to name out loud.

you feel a small spark of amusement bloom in your chest. not mean. just… curious.

interesting.

you glance at nancy. she doesn’t look jealous exactly. more like conflicted. like she hates the fact that this even affects her.

then steve laughs, calls something to jonathan that you can’t quite hear, and jonathan climbs faster in response.

yeah. definitely a competition.

you exhale softly, shaking your head to yourself.

so that’s why she knows his coffee order. that’s why she notices his hands. that’s why everything feels a little too charged for “just coworkers.”

suddenly, the pieces click into place.

and for the first time since you started working here, you realize you’re not just fixing machines and watching meters.

you’re standing right in the middle of something messy.

something unresolved.

something… fun to observe.

you straighten up as the wind shifts, eyes moving back to the tower.

okay, you think. now this makes sense.