bentrule·.   â  steve harrington
     his hands are thrown up in immediate defense,   a silent gesture of submission.     his mouth is always known for getting away from his mind,   going too fast for his thoughts to be accurately portrayed.       â   hey,   iâm sorry.     iâm just   â   iâm trying to process everything.     this stuff barely makes sense to me yet,   not like it does everyone else.   â      he still hasnât fully wrapped his mind around the concept of another world beneath his feet,   let alone other species in his own.     thereâs a inkling of guilt behind his ribcage,   sympathizing with  having a secret you canât share.     this whole saving-the-world thing is heavy on his shoulders,   the feeling of uselessness when people like lydia and el exist only amplifying when his thoughts wander too far.
â   iâm not trying to be disgusting or rude,   i just cope with humor sometimes,   â      he defends,   although he knows that  thereâs a place and time for everything  certainly applies in this situation.     not the place,   not the time.     a deep inhale as he sits back up in his chair,   hands resting on his knees which are clad in faded blue jeans.       â   alright,   fine.     chrissy wasnât murdered   â   i mean,   she was.     just not by munson.     thereâs a lot of shit happening in this town,   lydia.     more than just sensing dead people.     dangerous shit.   â
sheâs glad he at least has the sense to be ashamed.   despite what her raised hackles,  and genuine demeanour may suggest  - SHE HASNâT COME HERE FOR A FIGHT.  and she isnât in the mood for once.  she just wanted answers.  so she lets him off with just a warning,  cold stare maintained for a moment longer before she shifts gears,  head shaking slightly to force herself to move on.     â  oh youâre confused  ...  well spare a thought for me.   â  nothing had ever made sense to her,  her whole life .  and even as she feels on the verge of getting answers,  things still didnât make sense.  she wondered if she would ever understand herself. Â
â  well get a better sense of humour, because thatâs  not an excuse  -  itâs still rude  !   â    she scoffs,  like it being his sense of humour is supposed to mean she has to absolve him.  absolutely not - she had never done well PLAYING NICE.  but she forgets anything else she was going to say as she registers steveâs words  ...  her heart thumping in her chest suddenly seeming so loud then as everything else is drowned out.   â  murdered ...  what  -  no .   no,  I thought she was.  missing  â   this is too much to take in.  she feels like the world is tilting on itâs axis,  and  she canât even let anyone know because itâs steve harrington.  she kind of wants to scream then,  she thinks she might of screamed so loudly it could of cracked the air .  but she doesnât,  she forces herself to think  ...  forces herself to shelve this for later so she can get the answers she needs now more than ever.   â  I can handle dangerous.  I need to know what happened.  â  and then,  although it feels ripped out of her.   â  - please  âÂ