luli

“Yes, seriously. He’s just had his first school dance! It’s important that we celebrate,” you bickered.

“Unless you don’t want me interrupting your date,” Dustin muttered sassily. Both of you glared at him and he just snickered, watching as Steve drove past his house towards the 24 hour diner.

He’d noticed over the last month how close the two of you had grown. 9 times out of 10 you’d be sitting in the passenger seat when Steve pulled up to give him a ride somewhere, he was certain you were wearing Steve’s sweatshirt right now and he’s noticed the lovesick look Steve gets every time you laugh at one of his unfunny jokes. He’s just waiting for the two of you to admit it; whether that’s to him or to yourselves.

Steve parked up outside and let Dustin out, waiting patiently for you to join them before making any move towards the diner. Your hair was damp, freshly washed, it hadn’t been like that earlier when you and Steve had dropped him off at the dance. You’d also changed into sweats. Dustin was getting more suspicious by the minute.

“You want chocolate?” Steve asked him as you all slid into a booth, Steve choosing to sit beside you.

“Yeah,” Dustin nodded. “And pancakes.”

“It’s night time,” Steve responded. “Pancakes are for breakfast.”

“Just get the boy some pancakes,” you laughed, looking at him. He jokingly gave you a side eye.

“Fine, one chocolate, one vanilla, one strawberry and pancakes. Coming right up.” Steve slid out the booth and moved over to the counter to order. Dustin just raised an eyebrow; maybe it could be friendly to remember your order, maybe you’d already mentioned it, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been out to eat with you guys and Steve just automatically knew what you wanted.

After ordering, Steve came back and sat next to you. The two of you talked to Dustin about the dance, he informed you of Max and Lucas’ kiss and Steve had to give you five dollars since he didn’t think they’d have the guts. You were all halfway through your milkshakes — and Dustin had already eaten all his pancakes — when you made a move that had Dustin’s jaw dropping.

You reached over casually and pushed some of Steve’s hair from his forehead, he didn’t even flinch. There had been one time that Dustin tried to touch Steve’s hair and he learnt his lesson almost immediately by the way his hand had been slapped.

“No one touches my hair!” Steve had exclaimed, staring at Dustin like he’d just burnt him.

You and Steve both looked up, finding Dustin staring at you in shock. “What’s wrong? Brain freeze?” You asked.

“I told you to slow down,” Steve lectured.

“You— she just touched your hair!” Dustin exclaimed, slamming his hands down on the table. The few other people in the diner looked your way.

“Jesus, inside voices,” Steve hissed. “So what? Why are you so shocked by that?”

“You don’t let people touch your hair!” Dustin explained, a little calmer this time.

“No, I don’t let kids with sticky hands touch my hair,” Steve corrected. “She keeps herself clean.”

“I don’t have sticky hands,” Dustin bickered. You giggled, trying to hide it as you took another sip of your milkshake. “That’s not fair. You’re playing favouritism.”

“Why do you want to touch his hair so badly?” You teased.

“I don’t!” Dustin argued. “It’s just the principle.”

“If you want to touch his hair just touch it,” you carried on joking.

“Absolutely not,” Steve interrupted.

“See!”

When Dustin was home and in bed he was still thinking of the fact Steve had let you touch his hair; his prized possession. He knew there was something else going on, he was just waiting for you guys to confess.

El

Hopper didn’t like leaving El home alone. Even though you all now knew about her, and soon she’d be able to go out alone without the fear of the government working out who she is… he still doesn’t like it. He has to work, and in the day he’s not as bothered, but tonight he was working late and Joyce was doing the same so she wasn’t an option.

The second he called you you were already saying yes. You adored El, you had no problem hanging out with her. The only issue was a certain Steve Harrington who didn’t like the idea of you driving home late at night; which led to him joining you in your babysitting duties.

“You’ve seriously never had spaghetti bolognaise? Seriously?” Steve was in shock when El had told the two of you that she hadn’t yet tried Steve’s favourite food.

“No,” she shrugged, looking at him like he was crazy for caring so much.

“He’s a bit of a food fanatic,” you explained.

“A… what?”

“He loves food.”

“I do love food, and you are also going to love food once you’ve tasted this!” Steve exclaimed. He’d bought all the ingredients with him, luckily since Hopper didn’t have much other than microwave meals in the cabin. And eggos, of course.

You managed to have five minutes peace before Steve was forcing you up to help him. He was only making you stir the sauce, but you still complained.

“You’re the chef here, Harrington. I’m enjoying the movie,” you bickered, standing in the tiny kitchen.

“Do you want a nice meal or not?” He retaliated. “I don’t have the time to do everything myself. And I want El to like it.”

A fond smile played on your lips, he may like to pretend he doesn’t care about these kids but it’s obvious to you that he very clearly does. Just the fact he cares about her enjoying dinner says enough.

“Okay, I’ll stir the sauce,” you replied. “But, if it doesn’t taste as good as it usually does then that’s no one’s problem but your own.”

A couple minutes later he came up behind you, hand resting on your waist as he looked down at the sauce. You didn’t think anything of it… El on the other hand, was watching you two with narrowed eyes.

Dustin had said something about you two the last time she saw him, everyone had told him he was crazy but now she was starting to get it. With all the time she’d spent in the cabin she’d watched a lot of movies, and there was a big difference between people that were friends and people that were more.

Steve had been looking at you the way that they do in the movies all night long, it’s the same way she’s noticed Hopper looks at Joyce; she brought it up once and he turned as red as a tomato and sent her to her room. You looked at him in the exact same way, cheeks flushing every time you caught him staring.

She wasn’t as upfront as Dustin, she didn’t say anything about it; at least not until you were sitting beside her bed helping her do some reading before she went to sleep.

“Is Steve your boyfriend?” She asked, interrupting the line you were halfway through.

You stared at her like a deer caught in headlights. “What?”

“You guys act like a couple,” she shrugged. “You even wiped spaghetti from his face.”

“That’s because he eats like a child,” you laughed, cheeks not as red as Hopper’s had gotten but still a little pink. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just… friends.”

“Dustin said he’s your boyfriend.”

“Dustin needs his head checked.”

It was later that night when she crept out of her room to get some water that she found the two of you curled up on the couch, fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. She just smiled to herself; she'd let the two of you work it out for yourselves.

Will

Once upon a time Steve wasn’t sure there would be anyone at his graduation. Maybe his parents, although probably not, at one point he assumed Nancy would be there but once they broke up he changed his mind on that. He’d told you one night that he was embarrassed that no one would be there, you told him he was ridiculous if he thought you wouldn’t be there.

Turns out, it wasn’t just you. He noticed you instantly in the stands, you and a gaggle of children. He was beaming the entire ceremony, his cheeks flushed when he heard you all cheering after his name was called. He’d never felt so happy.

Will was standing to your left, he was still a little weird with crowds but he’d wanted to come to show support for Steve. And all of his friends were gonna be there. You seemed even more scared of losing him than he was of getting lost; that calmed him down plenty. You were in the middle of lecturing Lucas and Mike over swearing when someone tapped your shoulder. Will’s eyes followed every movement, no one else seemed to even notice the interruption as the others all went back to bickering.

“Blake, hi,” you greeted. The boy, whoever he was, grinned at you as he pulled you in for a hug.

“What’re you doing here?” He, Blake, questioned. “With… a load of kids.”

“Oh, uh, we’re here for Steve. We babysit them.” It was an easier explanation than ‘we fought monsters together and now have a trauma bond’.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Harrington. My brother played basketball with him,” Blake said.

“Yeah.” You awkwardly smiled at him, unsure what to say.

“It’s been awhile since we hung out, maybe we could—” the words died on the tip of his tongue as Steve finally appeared, arm wrapping around your waist. Will had been so tuned in on the conversation that he hadn’t even noticed Steve coming over.

“You didn’t mention you’d be bringing all of our children.” It was obviously a joke, it made you laugh. Will’s eyebrows furrowed; there was a tone in Steve’s voice. Like he was trying to hint at something to this stranger who had stepped far too close to you.

“Harrington, congrats on graduating,” Blake said, nodding awkwardly at him.

“Thanks,” he muttered, hardly giving him a second look. He turned back to you. “You want to get out of here? Take the dipshits out for food or something?”

“You don’t want to stay for a bit?” You asked softly.

“Absolutely not,” he snorted, arm staying put around your waist as he started to gather up all the teens.

Will stayed watching, you didn’t even notice as Blake walked away but Steve certainly did. His eyes watched him leave, and Will watched Steve. If jealousy was a disease Steve Harrington would’ve just dropped dead.

Max

Max likes the mall a lot. When she first moved to Hawkins, the only place she thought was cool enough to hang out in was the arcade. But now, there was a whole building full of different things to do. It helped that one of her ‘babysitters’ had a job at an ice cream shop and couldn’t help himself but to give it to her for free.

Today, her and Lucas were supposed to be going together but he’d ended up stuck babysitting Erica for a while so she decided to wait for him in Scoops Ahoy. She noticed you almost instantly, which was weird. You were usually here, hanging around Steve, but you would either be sat on the wrong side of the counter next to him or in the back during his breaks. Today, you were sat at a table stirring your icecream around with your spoon.

“Hey,” Max greeted, sitting down beside you. She hadn’t failed to notice the glum look on your face.

“Hi,” you replied. “No Lucas?”

“He’s running late. Thought I’d get some free icecream. Why are you sat on your own?” She asked, getting straight to the point.

You shrugged, eyes flickering over to the counter that Steve stood behind. But he wasn’t alone. His new coworker, Robin, was next to him and they were laughing together. “Have you met Robin?”

“Yeah,” Max replied slowly.

“She’s in my grade at school, but we’ve never really talked.” Max was a little confused why you were going on about Robin, but she let you continue. “Steve keeps talking about her.”

“Saying what?” She was starting to catch on now. Your skin was turning green with envy.

“I don’t know, random things,” you muttered. “They seem to have gotten closer over the last week or so. I was hanging with El on Monday so I couldn’t come here, then suddenly on Tuesday they’re the best of friends.” Max liked that you said hanging with rather than babysitting when you talked about them. Like you really were their friend.

“And you’re mad about that?” Max questioned.

“What? No! I’m not… I’m not mad. Just confused,” you argued. “It’s stupid, never mind.”

You were jealous as hell. Max couldn’t help but smirk. El had told her about you and Steve being cuddled up on the couch, all of the kids were pretty much conspiring for you to just get together already. This was something new for her to share with them, although she wasn’t sure if she would. You seemed actually upset and that wasn’t what she wanted.

“I’m gonna get some icecream,” she announced, standing up and pretty much storming over to the counter.

“You’re running my pockets dry,” Steve stated, turning his body to face her rather than Robin. Max’s eyes narrowed at him. “What?”

“You’re an idiot,” she muttered. “Strawberry. Sprinkles.”

“Why am I an idiot?” Steve exclaimed as Robin started laughing beside him.

“Your girlfriend is sad.”

For the first time ever, Steve didn’t correct the use of girlfriend. He instantly looked over at you, concerned. “Why? What’s wrong with her?”

“So you admit she’s your girlfriend?” Robin chimed in, grinning. Max looked at her in surprise. She was ready to hate the girl for coming in between the two of you, but it looked like she was in the same boat as the rest of them.

Waiting for the two of you to man up and confess.

“No! Stay out of this.” He turned back to Max. “Why is she upset? Did I put the wrong sauce on her icecream?”

“No, asshole. She’s sat all alone!” Max argued.

“I’ve already begged her to sit with me,” Steve grumbled, before walking around the counter and over to you. Max watched as he sat beside you, and within hardly a minute you were giggling.

She looked back to Robin. “Strawberry, please.”

“Anything for someone who’s also trying to get the two of them together,” Robin grinned, starting to make Max’s icecream.

“So, you’re not trying it on with Steve?” Max asked cautiously.

Robin physically grimaced. “No! Definitely not. He’s… not my type. And besides, look at them. They’re head over heels in love.” Max followed her eye line. Steve was now looking at you with the puppy dog eyes and you fed him a spoonful of your treat.

“Yeah, they are.”

Lucas

It felt like Lucas was losing his mind. Him and Max had broken up four times now, and usually she’d forgive him the next day but this time she just wouldn’t budge. He’d shown up at her house, with no flowers because he didn’t bring enough money to the store but he had chocolate! She threw it at him and slammed the door. He needed reinforcements, and his friends weren’t the right people for that.

“Sinclair,” Steve greeted, opening the front door. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” Lucas admitted. Him and Steve weren’t that close. He thought Steve was awesome, and they got along, but they’d never hung out alone unless you count him being the last one to get dropped off home.

“Please tell me you haven’t trapped a demogorgon in your bunker. I can’t do that again,” Steve sighed.

Lucas laughed. “I’m not Dustin.”

“In that case, come on in.”

The younger boy sat down on the couch as Steve grabbed them some sodas and chips; he seemed to have the fridge fully stocked at all times now just in case. “Thanks,” Lucas murmured.

“No problem. So, what’s up?” Steve asked, sitting down beside him.

“Max and me broke up. Again. But this time she won’t get back together with me,” Lucas pouted. Steve stifled a laugh. The two of them were young, but it was clear they really liked each other. Sometimes they were just a bit dramatic.

“What was it this time?” Steve questioned.

Lucas explained to him that they’d had a fight because he’d forgotten they had plans and instead hung out with Mike, Max had called him an asshat and refused to talk to him since. “I just need some advice… I guess. On how to make up after a fight.”

“Well, I actually did something similar with Y/N a few weeks ago,” Steve admitted, catching Lucas’ attention. He thought maybe Steve would talk about Nancy, or one of his other failed relationships. Not you. “I was meant to pick her up from work but Dustin had gone into a frenzy about god knows what and I got distracted and forgot.”

“Was she mad?” Lucas asked.

“She doesn’t really get mad, but she was upset. So, to make it up to her, I showed up when I wasn’t supposed to pick her up to make up for that part. Then, I took her to the movies and paid for the popcorn and when I was driving her home I apologised. A genuine apology can go a long way, Sinclair,” Steve explained.

“What did you say?” Lucas didn’t necessarily need help with that part, he really liked Max, he could come up with his own apology. He was just curious.

“Told her I’m an ass but I love her and she’s important to me and it won’t happen again,” Steve shrugged.

“Love?” Lucas exclaimed.

“Not like that!” Steve argued, cheeks turning pink. “Platonically, Sinclair. I love her platonically.”

“Sure, Steve.”

When he and Max made up he was sure to tell her that Steve loved you.

+1 the party

“Dude, this feels wrong,” Mike said from beside Dustin, who was in the middle of searching under rocks for the spare key to Steve’s house.

“It’s not! He told me I can use it, I just have to find it. He gets all freaked and moves it around every week,” Dustin grumbled.

“I’m pretty sure that was in case of emergencies, not because he wasn’t answering the phone and we wanted to use his pool,” Will mumbled.

“Shut up, Byers. I want to swim,” Max bickered.

Dustin grinned, standing up with something shiny in his hand. He unlocked the door and the gaggle of children went wandering into his house. One by one they stopped, because Dustin had frozen in place in the entryway to the living room.

“Oh my God!” He screeched. In front of him, was you and Steve making out on his couch. He was laying over you, your leg thrown around his waist. He slowly pulled back and the two of you stared at the kids.

“How did you get into my house?” Steve asked with a sigh. You guys didn’t seem embarrassed, more so annoyed that they’d interrupted.

“The key! Why are you guys kissing?” Dustin cried out. He’d been waiting a long time for you guys to get together, they all had, but now he’d really seen it he felt a bit nauseous.

Steve sat up fully, rubbing the back of his neck as the two of you looked from each other to them. “Well… we’re kinda dating.”

“You are?” Max gasped, grinning.

“Yes, we are. And you guys weren’t supposed to find out yet,” you pouted.

“Why not? We’ve been your biggest advocates!” Dustin bickered.

“It’s… new. Not something we wanted you all to know,” Steve grumbled. “What’re you doing here, anyways?”

“Going swimming,” El answered.

“We called,” Lucas added.

“Yeah. I ignored your calls,” Steve sighed. “Fine. Go swimming."

“Uh… we don’t want to do that anymore. We want answers to how you finally got together,” Max argued, sitting herself down on the other couch as everyone else followed.

“Seriously?” Steve deadpanned.

“Yes,” they all responded.

You shared a look with your boyfriend, a tiny smile playing on your lips. You hadn’t wanted them to know yet, but the fact they seemed so ecstatic that the two of you were dating was pretty sweet.

“Fine,” Steve mumbled, after seeing the smile on your face.

────﹒♡﹒────

The living room was loud in that familiar way—music playing too low actually to dance to, too loud to ignore. Someone had commandeered the couch. Someone else was sitting on the floor, backs against the coffee table, talking over each other like it was a competition.

Steve leaned against the wall, half-listening. They were talking about relationships. Of course they were.

“So,” Dustin said, mouth full of chips, “Suzie wrote me again. Long-distance is hard, but we’re making it work.”

Lucas nudged him. “You’ve been dumped for, like, a month and you’re still smiling.”

“Love endures,” Dustin replied seriously.

Mike rolled his eyes and smiled. “El and I are fine.”

Nancy smiled softly, squeezing Jonathan’s hand. Robin talked about a girl from band camp. Everyone had something to share. Something warm. Something real.

Steve felt suddenly very aware of the empty space next to him. Then Robin turned, eyebrows lifting just a little too innocently.

“What about you, Harrington?” she asked. “You seeing anyone?”

Steve’s brain short-circuited. The room went quiet, too quiet.

“Yeah,” he said quickly “I mean—yeah. I am.” Every head snapped toward him.

“Wait, what?” Dustin said. “Since when?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Nancy asked, surprised but smiling.

Robin narrowed her eyes. “You don’t just casually have a girlfriend and not mention it.”

Steve laughed, high and nervous. “I—well—it’s new. Kinda…not a big deal.”

“Can we meet her?” Robin asked immediately.

Thanksgiving. The word floated through the room like a ticking bomb.

Steve’s smile froze. “Sure,” he said, because at this point, stopping felt impossible. “Yeah, Thanksgiving works.”

────﹒♡﹒────

He realized how badly he’d messed up three days later—standing across the street from your house.

You were in your driveway, side mirror in the car, fixing your hair with practiced precision. Steve had been waiting. For ten minutes. Maybe fifteen. Long enough to second-guess every life choice he’d ever made.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

You looked up slowly, unimpressed. “What do you want, Harrington?”

He winced. “I—okay. I need your help.”

You scoffed, turned to face him. “Last time I checked, we’re not friends. And I still hate you.”

“That’s not fair,” Steve said. “I apologized.”

“You shoved my face into my birthday cake,” you shot back. “In front of 30 people.”

“I was seven.”

“I was traumatized.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck. “That was, like… a decade ago.”

You closed your eyes. Unfortunately, you remembered it vividly. Sticky frosting. Laughter. The heat of embarrassment burns your ears.

“Leave me alone,” you said, opening the car door.

“Wait—wait, please.” Steve stepped closer, hands raised. “I lied to my friends.”

That made you pause.

“…About what?”

“I told them I had a girlfriend.”

You turned slowly. “That sounds like a you problem.”

“It is,” he admitted. “Which is why I’m asking you.”

You laughed. Not kindly. “Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do anything.”

You raised a brow. “Anything?”

Steve nodded, desperate. “Name it.”

You studied him—really studied him. The way his confidence cracked when he was nervous. The way he looked genuinely panicked, not cocky, not smug. Just… scared of disappointing people.

“You’ll admit,” you said slowly, “that you were a jerk to me growing up.”

Steve blinked. “Okay.”

“Publicly.”

“…Okay.”

“That being spoiled daughter is not my entirely personality” you added. 

“But you are,” he said automatically.

You turned your head, giving him a slow, lethal side-eye.

Steve froze. “…I mean.”

He cleared his throat. “Deal. Definitely deal.”

You sighed, leaning against the car. “One day. Thanksgiving only.”

“Thanksgiving only,” Steve repeated quickly.

“No touching unless I say so.”

“Got it.”

“And if you embarrass me—”

“I won’t.”

“You will regret it.”

Steve swallowed. “Deal.” You held his gaze for a beat longer… then opened the car door again.

“Fine,” you said. “I’ll be your girlfriend.”

Steve exhaled like he’d just survived something. “Thank you. Seriously.”

You smirked. “Don’t thank me yet, Harrington.” You shut the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

Steve didn’t move. He just… stood there. Watching you. Like he’d forgotten the conversation was technically over.

“…What,” you said, hand on the steering wheel.

He blinked. “Oh. Right. Uh—wait. One more thing.”

You sighed loudly, leaning your head back. “Harrington, I already agreed. What now?”

Steve shifted on his feet, suddenly awkward again. “We kinda—need to hang out.”

You stared at him. “No.”

“Not like—” he rushed, hands flying up. “Not like that. Just—strategically.”

“Strategically,” you repeated flatly.

“Yeah. Because they’re gonna ask,” he said. “Like… how we met. What you like. How long we’ve been together. Normal couple stuff.”

You narrowed your eyes. “We met because you ruined my childhood.”

Steve winced. “See? That’s not… romantic.”

“Good.”

“They’ll know I’m lying,” he said quietly. “Robin especially. She’s scary.” You considered that. Unfortunately, he was right.

“So what,” you said. “You want to rehearse?”

“Hang out,” Steve corrected. “In public. So people see us.”

Your mouth twisted. “You want witnesses.”

“Yes.”

You laughed under your breath. “Unbelievable.”

Steve smiled weakly. “Look, I’ll buy you shoes. Whatever you want.”

“Steve—”

“I’ll listen,” he added quickly. “Like, actually listen. You can talk about anything.”

That made you pause. He scratched the back of his neck. “We don’t have to be fake-fake. Just… convincing.”

You drummed your fingers against the wheel, thinking. The idea annoyed you. The idea of him wanting to know things about you annoyed you more.

“…One week hangout, thanksgiving will be the last day,” you said finally.

Steve’s face lit up. “Really?”

“One week,” you repeated. “You ask too many questions, I leave.”

“Deal.”

“And if anyone from our street sees us—”

“I’ll hold your hand,” he said, then froze. “—I mean. Only if you want. Obviously.”

You opened the car door again, stepping out.

“Tomorrow,” you said. “Somewhere public. Loud. I don’t want to talk much.”

Steve nodded immediately. “Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up?”

You smirked. “Absolutely not.”

He laughed, a little breathless. “Right. Okay. I’ll… see you.”

As you got back into the car, you caught him still smiling at nothing. You hated that it made your chest feel weird. 

────﹒♡﹒────

The next afternoon, Steve was already there when you stepped outside.

He stood beside his car like he hadn’t moved since morning, arms folded, weight shifting from one foot to the other as he checked his watch for the third time. When the front door closed behind you, his head snapped up instinctively.

And then he squinted.

You were dressed like a walking stereotype, and you knew it. Pink cardigan, soft and expensive-looking, fitted just right over a white top that probably cost more than it needed to. Your skirt was pressed, your shoes clean, and everything about you suggested comfort, money, and the kind of confidence people mistook for arrogance.

Steve tilted his head, sunglasses sliding down his nose slightly as he stared.

“…Wow,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. “What.”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “You just—uh. You look very… you.”

“Say ‘spoiled,’ and I walk back inside.”

He swallowed. “You look great.”

You stopped in front of him, arms crossing. “Where are we going?”

“The mall,” Steve said after a brief pause, like he was testing the word out loud.

You considered him for a moment, then nodded. “Fine.”

Relief flashed across his face before he could hide it. He jogged ahead and pulled open the passenger door for you, holding it like it was second nature.

You stared at the door. Then at him.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, sliding into the seat. “You’re doing too much.”

Steve only smiled as he shut the door, clearly taking it as a win.

The ride started quietly, the radio playing low as Steve focused a little too hard on the road.

“So,” he said eventually, glancing over. “We should probably… get our story straight.”

You sighed, resting your elbow against the window. “This is rehearsal, remember?”

“Right. Rehearsal.” He nodded. “How long have we been together?”

“One month,” you answered without hesitation. “Long enough to be believable. Short enough that no one expects anniversaries.”

Steve blinked. “You’ve thought about this.”

“Someone has to.”

He huffed a laugh. “Okay. How’d we meet?”

You turned your head slowly. “You knocked over my car and cried.”

“I didn’t cry.”

“You absolutely did.”

He shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Favorite music?”

“Whatever makes you least annoying in the car.”

“That’s… not helpful.”

“Neither is lying to your friends.”

“Fair”

Steve parked and stepped out of the car with a stretch, rolling his shoulders as if bracing himself.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said. “We walk around, maybe grab food, let people see us together.”

You smiled sweetly, “I want to shop.”

Steve glanced down at you, then back toward the mall entrance. “How much shopping?”

You linked your arm through his before he could react. “Come on, boyfriend.”

The first store ended quickly. You scanned the racks, frowned, and declared they didn’t carry your size with enough disappointment to sound offended.

The second store lasted longer. You inspected fabrics, shook your head at price tags that didn’t impress you, and asked Steve what he thought of things you clearly had no intention of buying. By the time you left, he was already holding two bags and a growing sense of unease.

By the fifth store, Steve was checking his watch. By the seventh, he’d stopped pretending this was casual.

You disappeared into fitting rooms and emerged holding armfuls of clothes, draping them over his shoulders without asking. He took them automatically, adjusting the weight with quiet determination that only made the situation funnier.

“Do you actually like any of this?” he asked carefully.

“Some of it,” you replied. “I’ll decide later.”

You stopped abruptly in the twelfth store, eyes locking onto a display near the counter.

“Oh. My. God.”

Steve followed your gaze. “What now?”

“That bag.”

Another girl reached for it at the same time you did, fingers brushing briefly before she pulled it closer. “I’m buying this,” the girl said.

You smiled, polite but tight. “I saw it first.”

She scoffed. “There’s only one.” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “I’ll give you thirty dollars more than whatever you’re paying.”

The girl hesitated, glanced at Steve—arms full, clearly regretting every decision he’d made today—then nodded.

“Deal.”

Steve stared as the girl walked away with the cash. “You just… bribed her.” You hooked the bag onto his arm. “You would’ve lost that fight.”

By the time you reached the last store, Steve dropped onto a bench outside, bags piled around his feet like evidence of a crime.

“I can’t feel my hands,” he said faintly.

You tilted your head, inspecting your work. “You said you’d do anything.”

He looked up at you, hair a mess, face flushed, still stubbornly holding every bag.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said.

You smiled, satisfied and unapologetic. “Immensely.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head despite himself, and for the first time all day, you noticed he wasn’t pretending.

Steve suggested the place like it was a peace offering.

It was small, warm, and familiar—one of those casual spots people went to after long days, where the menu hadn’t changed in years and the food was reliably good. Nothing fancy. Nothing chaotic.

You looked up at the sign, then back at him.

“Sure,” you said easily.

Steve visibly relaxed. He even smiled a little, like maybe this part of the day would be normal.

Inside, you slid into the booth first, crossing your legs neatly as Steve set the mountain of shopping bags down with a quiet groan of relief. He flexed his fingers like he’d just survived manual labor.

“You okay?” you asked sweetly.

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling. “Great. Amazing. Love malls.”

The server came by quickly, handing you menus. Steve barely glanced at his before speaking.

“I’ll get the shawarma,” he said, then looked at you. “You want one too? It’s really good here.”

You nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

The food came fast. The smell hit the table immediately—warm bread, spices, grilled meat. Steve picked up his wrap, took a bite, then paused when he noticed you hadn’t touched yours.

“You’re not eating,” he said, frowning slightly. “You don’t like it?”

You stared down at the plate. Your lips trembled. Steve froze. “Hey—what’s wrong?”

You sniffed once. Then again. “I can’t,” you whispered.

“What do you mean you can’t?” he asked, panic already creeping in. “Is it too spicy? I can—”

“I’m vegetarian.” The word landed between you like a dropped plate.

Steve blinked. “You’re… what?”

Your eyes glistened as you looked up at him, voice shaking. “I don’t eat animals, Steve.”

“Oh,” he said quickly. “Okay. I didn’t know.”

You swallowed hard. “Do you know how many cows die every year?”

Steve stiffened. “I—no?”

“Millions,” you said softly. “They have families.” Steve stared at his shawarma like it had personally betrayed him.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I swear you never said anything.”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” you replied, wiping at the corner of your eye. “It’s emotional.”

The server walked by, and Steve immediately waved them over, a little too urgently.

“Hi,” he said. “Can we—uh—actually change the order?”

The server glanced between you. “Is everything okay?”

“She’s vegetarian,” Steve said firmly, pushing both plates away. “We’ll take two garden salads instead.”

You sniffed again, nodding gratefully. “Thank you.”

Steve leaned back once the server left, rubbing his face. “I really messed that up.”

You reached across the table and patted his hand. “It’s okay. Not everyone thinks about these things.”

He nodded solemnly. “I should’ve asked.” You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

When the salads arrived, Steve ate quietly, glancing at you every so often like he was afraid to offend you again.

“You sure this is okay?” he asked.

You took a dramatic bite. “I feel… lighter already.”

 Steve nodded, clearly taking a mental note. Mission accomplished.

You pushed your salad around for a minute longer, then set your fork down gently. “Excuse me,” you said, standing. “Bathroom.”

Steve looked up immediately. “You okay?”

You offered him a soft smile. “Yeah. Just… needed a moment.”

He nodded, earnest and concerned. “Take your time.” You did not, in fact, take your time.

The second Steve’s attention shifted, focused on peeling a cucumber slice off his fork like it had personally offended him, you veered toward the counter instead of the hallway.

The server recognized you instantly.

You leaned in, voice low. “Hi. Um. Could I…hypothetically—get the shawarma back?”

The server blinked. “The one you didn’t eat?”

“Yes,” you said seriously. “It’s… an emergency.”

A pause. Then the server slid the plate toward you, eyes glinting with amusement. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” You mouthed thank you and disappeared.

The bathroom smelled faintly of soap and something citrusy. You locked the door, perched on the edge of the counter, and unwrapped the shawarma like it was contraband.

You took a bite. Heaven. Warm. Juicy. Perfectly seasoned. You chewed quickly, grinning to yourself as you finished it with impressive efficiency, wiping your hands with paper towels like nothing illegal had just occurred.

By the time you checked your reflection, there was no evidence. No guilt. Only satisfaction.

When you returned to the table, Steve looked up again, relief flickering across his face.

“Feel better?” he asked.

“Much,” you said, sliding back into the booth. You picked up your fork and took a slow, delicate bite of salad, chewing thoughtfully. Not hungry at all. Barely trying.

Steve, meanwhile, was struggling.

He stabbed at leafy greens with determination, chewing like this was a task he needed to complete correctly. He didn’t complain—just powered through, even as his expression grew increasingly bleak.

You tilted your head, watching him. “How’s the food?”

He swallowed. “Good,” he said quickly. “Really nice.” Another bite. 

A pause. “So fresh,” he added, nodding to himself as if that helped.

You hummed, pushing a tomato around your plate. “Yeah. Vegetables are… important.”

Steve glanced at your barely-touched salad, then back at his nearly empty bowl.

“You sure you’re full?” he asked.

“Mm-hm,” you said innocently. “I ate earlier.” Steve nodded, resolute, and took another heroic bite.

After that, the two of you went home. Steve had carried the bags all day like a champ, and you’d thanked him one last time before stepping inside.

“No problem,” he said, giving you a small grin. “Tomorrow, you’re coming to watch me play basketball.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Me? Why?”

“Support,” he said simply. “My fake girlfriend needs to cheer.”

You smirked. “Fine. I’ll do it. But I get to embarrass you a little, too.”

────﹒♡﹒────

The gym smelled like sweat, polish, and the faint tang of popcorn from the snack stand. The crowd buzzed with excitement, but you barely noticed anyone except Steve.

He had his team lined up on the court, bouncing the ball, sweat glistening on his forehead, hair slightly tousled in that way that made your stomach do flips despite yourself.

The ball came to him at the three-point line. He looked at you, pointed with a grin that screamed watch this, and then—swish!—the ball sailed through the net effortlessly. Three points.

You jumped to your feet, waving your pompoms like a pro cheerleader. “Yesss! That’s my man!” you shouted, voice loud enough for half the gym to hear.

Steve turned briefly mid-dribble, giving you a wink before throwing another pass. “Don’t distract me!” he called.

“You’re distracting me!” you shouted back, grinning.

The final buzzer rang. Steve’s team had won, barely, and he was breathing hard, flushed, exhilarated. You met him near the exit, pom-poms bouncing in your hands.

“See? I told you I could cheer,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, half laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I almost forgot I was supposed to play, not flirt with my fake girlfriend.”

You grinned. “Whatever. You got your three points. I’m officially proud.”

As you walked toward the locker rooms together, a tall, broad-shouldered guy from the opposing team stepped in front of you.

“Hey there,” he said, smirking. “What’s a cheerleader doing here all alone?”

Steve immediately stepped forward, fists tightening. “Step back.”

You held up a hand. “No, let’s just walk—he’s not worth it.”

Before Steve could protest, the guy reached out and slapped your ass, clearly thinking it was funny. The action caught both of you completely off guard.

Steve’s eyes went wide, his jaw tightening. “What the—!”

Your cheeks flared—not from embarrassment, but from pure, simmering anger.

The guy laughed, leaning closer. “Yeah, that’s right. Listen to your little slu—”

You didn’t let him finish. Adrenaline surged through you.

Your fist shot out like a spring releasing tension stored for months, connecting solidly with the guy’s nose. A spray of blood hit the gym floor. He staggered back, clutching his face, letting out a surprised grunt.

Steve blinked, stunned. “You—wow. I—”

You winced, curling your fingers. Knuckles burned from the impact, but the satisfaction of sending him reeling kept you moving. “Steve!” you hissed, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go!”

He snapped out of it, nodding, and the two of you sprinted down the hall, dodging teammates and gym-goers. Your hand still tingled, but the rush of adrenaline made you grin despite the pain.

You leaned against the lockers, both of you trying to catch your breath.

Steve rubbed his forehead, incredulous. “You could’ve seriously broken your hand!”

“I did hurt it,” you admitted, flexing slowly. “But… worth it.”

He exhaled heavily, shaking his head. “You’re terrifying.”

“I know,” you said lightly, tossing him a pompom with a smirk. “And don’t forget it.”

Steve laughed, a mix of disbelief and admiration. “Seriously. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You could start with ‘thank you for being my boyfriend’,” you teased.

He groaned but smirked. “Next time, I handle it first.”

“Maybe,” you said, rolling your eyes, “but then I’d never know how scary I am.” Steve just laughed again, running a hand through his hair, still flushed from both the game and the chaos. 

────﹒♡﹒────

On day three, Steve had wanted to watch Batman at the cinema, but, of course, you had other plans.

“I think we’re watching When Harry Met Sally,” you said, handing him your bag so he could carry it.

Steve froze mid-bite of his sandwich. “…Really? That’s… your choice?”

“Yes. Really,” you said, smirking. “You’ve never seen it, right?”

He hesitated, eyebrows rising. “…Nope.”

“Perfect,” you said, clapping your hands together. “This is going to be fun.”

The lights dimmed. The opening credits rolled, and you perched on the edge of the seat, leaning forward, eyes bright and calculating mischief.

Within 10 minutes, you leaned toward Steve. “So… wait. Who is this guy again?”

Steve blinked at you. “…Harry?”

“Yes! But explain his deal. Personality, flaws, trauma—go!”

He exhaled slowly, trying to keep his patience. “I… don’t know?”

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “What?! You’re supposed to know this stuff! It’s essential movie knowledge!”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I literally just started watching.”

“But what’s the plot? In one sentence! Quick!” Steve frowned, glancing at the screen. “I… don’t know yet.”

You leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “Come on… Sally’s best friend. Quick thoughts! I need to know your reaction.”

“I… she seems… nice?” he offered cautiously.

You gasped again, louder this time. “Nice?! That’s all you’ve got? We need adjectives! Depth! Intrigue!” By the time they argued for the third time on screen, you were leaning against him, nudging his shoulder.

“Wait—what is happening now? Did he really say that line?”

Steve groaned quietly. “Yes. Just… focus on the movie.”

You pretended to think. “I don’t understand why they’re arguing about the same thing. Why is this so complicated?!”

He rubbed his eyes. “It’s not that complicated!”

“Oh, come on. Tell me why you think he’s good for her!”

Steve sighed, trying to ignore you, but every time he looked at the screen, you leaned a little closer. You even rested your head lightly on his shoulder, just for a moment, and he froze, feeling it more than he wanted to admit.

“You know,” you whispered after a particularly long pause, “you’re lucky this movie’s romantic. Otherwise, I’d be sitting on your lap.”

Steve’s eye twitch almost betrayed him. “…Noted,” he muttered.

Finally, the snow fell on the screen, Harry rushing through the streets, shouting through the snowflakes, confessing all his love. You stayed quiet, letting the scene sink in, then spoke softly, almost to yourself:

“I want that, y’know… someone still loving you despite your flaws. Even when you’re… impossible.”

Steve turned to look at you, caught off guard. “Wait… what?”

You shrugged lightly, staring at the screen, voice quieter, more vulnerable. “It’s nothing… just… thinking out loud.”

Then, more honestly, you met his eyes. “People… they think I’m annoying. Loud. Selfish. Overdramatic. They think of me as a spoiled brat… but I just… I think I deserve good things, like everyone does. I work hard. I get good grades, I try. And sometimes… I wonder if anyone could… love someone like me anyway.”

Steve’s gaze softened instantly. For a moment, the bustling cinema faded; there was just the two of you in that dim, quiet row, your words hanging between you.

“You know,” Steve said gently, reaching out to lightly brush his fingers against yours,. He thought about it for a second. “I don’t think… the right person would mind,” he said finally. “Not really.”

You blinked, caught between amusement and disbelief. “Really?”

“Really,” he said with quiet confidence, letting you feel the weight of it. “Even the parts that make you… annoying? Even the stuff that drives people crazy?”

You nodded slowly, glancing back at the screen but feeling the warmth in your chest. “Even those.”

Steve squeezed your hand briefly before letting go, his touch lingering in memory. “Yeah… that’s how it should be.”

For the rest of the movie, you didn’t feel the need to talk over the scenes. You just let the warmth of the moment fill the small space between you, playful banter gone, replaced by something almost intimate.

────﹒♡﹒────

On day four, you invited Steve over. You tied your apron tight, the strings digging slightly into your waist, flour dusting the front of your shirt and hands, and gestured toward the counter.

“Alright, Harrington. Today, we bake.”

Steve leaned against the opposite side of the counter, arms crossed, pretending to look casual, but his eyes flicked between the bags of ingredients and you. “Alright… let’s see what the infamous brat has in store.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up the mixing bowl. “I warned you—I take this very seriously.”

He smirked faintly, trying not to look impressed. “Of course, of course. Very serious.”

“So… we’ve been neighbors for how long now?” Steve asked, tossing flour into the bowl with surprising precision.

“Since forever,” you said, smiling faintly. “But after my birthday… well, we barely talked. Weird, right?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess life happened. But today… we’re making up for lost time?”

You nodded, leaning slightly closer, “Exactly.”

As you sifted the flour, he leaned a little closer, curiosity getting the better of him. “So… what’s your favorite color, or anything you want to share?”

You looked up, flour dusting your nose. “Yellow. Bright, like sunshine, makes me happy.” You paused for dramatic effect, smiling. “And I have an orange cat. Mango. Total terror. Also, I paint.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Wait… you paint, have a cat?”

You laughed softly, brushing some flour off your sleeve. “Yes. But yeah, I paint. Helps me think… keeps me sane. You’d be surprised how calming it is.”

“I am,” he said quietly, almost to himself. Then he shrugged, trying to mask how intrigued he was. 

The dough came together, and you preheated the oven. Once the cookies were baked and cooled, you offered him one with a flourish, barely able to hide your excitement. He took a big bite, eyes bright.

Chewing thoughtfully, he nodded slowly. “Mmm… really good,” he said.

Your heart leapt—but inside, you were nearly cracking up. The cookies were salty as hell, a prank hidden perfectly, and Steve hadn’t noticed. His politeness was endearing, and you couldn’t help but watch his expressions. The way he swallowed, reached for his orange juice, and smiled at you like it was the best cookie in the world—it was almost unfair how sweet it was.

“So,” he said, leaning on the counter, orange juice in hand, “what’s your favorite movie? And don’t tell me just one—I want to know the weird ones, the guilty pleasures.”

You laughed, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Weird ones? Hmm… I love The Muppet, don’t tell anyone.”

He raised an eyebrow trying to hold his laugh. “ Interesting… I guess you’re full of surprises.”

“And you?” you asked, leaning slightly closer. “What’s your hidden side, Harrington? Don’t tell me you’re all brawn and hair spray.”

Steve leaned back, pretending to think, but his gaze lingered on you longer than necessary. “I… like old rock albums, sci-fi movies, basketball, bad puns, and I enjoy taking pictures with my digital camera,” he listed, trying not to let the corners of his mouth twitch with a smile.

“Noted,” you said, nodding solemnly, though your eyes glimmered with amusement. “You’re full of surprises too.”

He laughed softly. “Guess that makes us even.”

You both moved around the counter in a dance of flour-dusted hands and playful nudges, mixing, scooping, and arranging the cookies on the tray. Every now and then, Steve would glance at you, taking in the sparkle in your eyes, the way you laughed at your own jokes, the small bursts of energy that made you… you.

Finally, after a moment of silence, he offered, “You know… Thanksgiving’s coming. You should bring some of these cookies. People will love them, and… you’d look happy.”

Your smile softened, the prank momentarily forgotten. “Maybe I will. I like seeing you enjoy things, you know?”

Steve nodded, quietly content, orange juice in hand, watching you glow with a mixture of mischief and pride. For the first time in years, it wasn’t about childhood rivalries, teasing, or chaos. It was about understanding each other, noticing the small things, and savoring the quiet warmth of shared space.

────﹒♡﹒────

Next late evening, by ten p.m., the house was loud. Not the fun kind of loud—no music, no laughter. Just voices raised too high, words sharpened by anger, the kind that crawled under your skin and stayed there.

You sat on the edge of your bed, flipping through an old magazine you weren’t really reading. The same page, over and over. Your chest felt tight, your stomach twisting when your mother’s voice cracked through the walls. Your father’s followed soon after—too calm, too defensive.

You didn’t need to hear every word to understand. He was having an affair again.

Your vision blurred before you even realized you were crying. You stood up abruptly, grabbed your jacket, and slipped out the back door. No one noticed. No one ever did when things got like this.

The night air hit your face as you wheeled your bike out of the garage and rode until your legs burned, until the noise in your head softened. You didn’t know where you were going until you were already there—the playground down the street, empty and quiet, bathed in orange streetlight.

You sat on one of the swings, gripping the chains, letting yourself cry softly. This used to be your place. Your dad had brought you here when you were little, pushed you on these same swings, called you his princess.

You hated that memory now. You hated him for what he did. And you hated that part of you still loved him.

Steve had just gotten off his shift at WSQK when he drove past the park. He slowed without thinking. A familiar silhouette sat alone on the swings, shoulders shaking.

He pulled over.

He didn’t know what possessed him to get out of the car, to walk closer, but his feet moved anyway.

“Hey,” he said gently. “It’s kinda late to be playing here.”

You turned. The streetlight caught your face, and his stomach dropped.

Mascara smudged. Eyes swollen. Cheeks streaked with tears.

“Shit,” Steve muttered under his breath. “What happened?”

You scrubbed at your face with the sleeve of your jacket. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Steve didn’t buy it. He never did with you. He stepped closer, then hesitated, like he didn’t want to scare you off.

“You don’t look fine,” he said quietly. “And… you don’t have to pretend with me.”

You looked away, jaw tight.

“You know,” he added, sitting on the swing beside you, “you can tell me anything, right? I meant it when I said I’d listen.”

The chains creaked softly as the swings moved. You swallowed hard. Then the words spilled out.

“I love my parents,” you said shakily. “I really do. But sometimes… sometimes I want to scream at them and tell them to just—get it together.” You let out a bitter laugh. “I think they don’t even love each other anymore. I think they’re just… staying together because of me.”

Steve stayed quiet. Let you talk.

“And my dad,” you continued, voice cracking, “he keeps calling me his princess. Like that’s supposed to mean something. But I hate him, Steve. I hate him.” You wiped your eyes again. “I saw him hit my mom. I can’t forget it. I don’t think I ever will.”

Steve’s hands clenched around the swing chains.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I… kinda get that. Different situation, but… same feeling.”

You looked at him.

“My parents are almost never home,” he admitted. “It’s just me and the housekeeper who comes by once a week and barely talks to me. They’re always together—business trips, dinners, meetings—but it’s like…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

“They forget I exist. Like they forgot they even have a son.”

He let out a breath, half laugh, half sigh. “I have the biggest house on the block, and there’s no one in it. Rooms I don’t use." He shrugged, like it didn’t matter. “Sometimes I turn the TV on just so there’s noise. Feels weird, eating dinner with nothing but my own footsteps.”

After a beat, he added quietly, “I tell myself it doesn’t bother me. That I’m fine being on my own.” He shook his head. “But sometimes I wonder if that’s all I’m ever gonna know.”

He looked up at the dark sky, voice softer now. “I don’t want that in my future. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I became them—too busy, too absent, thinking love is just… providing things instead of being there.”

He swallowed. “If I ever have a family, I want them to feel me. I want them to know they matter. I don’t ever want my kid to sit in a big, empty house and feel like they were forgotten.”

“Guess we’re both suffering,” you murmured, “just in different fonts.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

You leaned back slightly, letting the swing move. “Thanks for coming here,” you said. “And… I’m sorry. I wish I never stoped interacting with you. I think… we could’ve been really good friends.”

Steve smiled faintly, eyes on the ground. “Yeah. I wish I never shoved your face into that cake.” He winced. “I was a jerk. You didn’t deserve that.”

You laughed softly through your tears.

The two of you stayed there, swinging slowly under the streetlight, not saying much after that. Just existing in the same quiet, broken space—two kids who’d grown up too fast, finally letting someone see the cracks. And somehow, that was enough.

The swings slowed, chains creaking softly between you. The silence stretched—not awkward, just full.

Steve cleared his throat. “Hey… um.” He stared at the ground for a second before looking back at you. “If you don’t wanna be at home tomorrow… my parents aren’t around. You could come over.”

You turned toward him.

“We could, uh—” he hesitated, then rushed a little, “put together the clothes, shoes, and the bag we bought. And I could take your picture. If you want.”

You blinked. “My picture?”

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “I kinda noticed… every time there’s a mirror or a window or, like, anything reflective…you stop and check yourself. You always pose a little.” A faint smile tugged at his lips. “You look pretty when you do.”

Your face warmed instantly. “You noticed that?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I notice stuff.” The swing nudged forward again, slow and quiet. You smiled to yourself, heart light in a way it hadn’t been all night.

“Okay,” you said softly. “I’d like that.”

Steve smiled back, and for the first time that night, the park didn’t feel so empty.

────﹒♡﹒────

The next day, by the time Steve shut the front door, his arms were full.

“Okay,” he said, shifting the weight of the bags. ““Okay,” he said, shifting the weight. “I swear this multiplied. There were not this many when we checked out.”

You smiled innocently, adjusting your purse. “I just shopped a little before I went here.” Then, teasing, “Also, you’re helping me pick what I’m wearing for Thanksgiving. Remember? Fake girlfriend duties.”

“Right,” Steve said, but he was already smiling. “Totally forgot that was the mission.”

The house was… not what you expected.

It was big, sure—but empty in a way that felt louder than noise. When you stepped inside, the click of your heels echoed sharply against the floor. You froze.

“Oh—sorry,” you said quickly.

Steve glanced back. “You don’t have to apologize.” He shrugged. “I don’t mind it. Makes the place feel… less quiet.”

That made something twist gently in your chest.

You wandered into the living room, sunlight spilling in through the tall windows. On instinct, you knelt by the record player and slid a vinyl from your bag.

“What’s that?” Steve asked.

You held it up like a prize. “Cyndi Lauper.”

He smiled. “Of course it is.”

The needle dropped, and the room filled with bright, unapologetic sound—music about girls wanting joy, noise, freedom.  I come home, in the mornin’ light…

Flash.

You gasped, then laughed. “Steve! I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” he said, already grinning behind the camera. “You looked happy.”

The song bounced through the house, and before you could stop yourself, you were singing along, twirling once, twice—arms loose, heart lighter.  Girls just wanna have fun…

Steve leaned against the wall, watching you like the moment mattered. Like you mattered. His smile stayed soft, unguarded. He laughed when you grabbed your lipstick and used it as a microphone.

“Alright,” he said finally, clapping once. “Fashion show now, pretty girl.”

You gasped. “Wow. Straight to it.” The music replayed, familiar and fun, and you disappeared into the bathroom to change.

Your first outfit was simple—white top, yellow cardigan, white sandals. You walked out slowly, then posed like you were on a runway, exaggerating every step. My father yells, "What you gonna do with your life?"

Steve lifted the camera. Flash.

“Turn,” he instructed.

You turned. He hummed approvingly. “Cute. Very… sunshine.”

Next was the wine-red pleated skirt with a white polo, boots, shades, and a black bag slung over your shoulder. You strutted this time, full confidence, hip cocked. They just wanna… they just wanna…

Steve laughed. “Okay, okay—that one’s dangerous.”

The third was more relaxed—a striped blue top, jeans, sneakers. You shook out your hair just because you could. Oh, when the workin' day is done

Steve cheered. “Yes! That’s the one!”

You kept going. Laughing. Spinning. Forgetting time.

For the last outfit, you stepped out slower. A white dress, printed with tiny lavender flowers, ballet flats soft against the floor. You smoothed the fabric nervously. Some boys take a beautiful girl

Steve didn’t lift the camera right away.

“That one,” he said quietly, “really suits you.” He swallowed. “The lavender—it matches your eyes.”

You look away, smiling. “You keep noticing things these days” 

“I like noticing you,” he said, then froze, embarrassed. “I mean—”

You laughed gently, saving him. “Take the picture, Harrington.”

Flash.

The song played again, familiar and warm—about not wanting to be hidden away, about wanting sunlight.  I wanna be the one to walk in the sun…

At some point, you took one of his camera from him.

“My turn.”

Steve groaned. “Absolutely not.”

Too late. You snapped a photo mid-protest. Then another. Him laughing. Him looking at you when he thought you weren’t watching.

“You’re really bad at this,” he said, smiling.

“So are you,” you replied. “But we’re having fun.”

Hours slipped by. Bags forgotten. Thanksgiving untouched. The pretending dissolved somewhere between the music and the laughter.

When the sun began to dip, the house didn’t feel so empty anymore. It felt like something lived there now.

────﹒♡﹒────

The Buckley house loomed warmly ahead, smoke curling from the chimney. You swallowed nervously, adjusting your cardigan for the third time. Steve noticed immediately.

He reached for your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. “Hey,” he said quietly, voice low so only you could hear. “It’s just my friends. You’re gonna be fine.”

You nodded, trying to trust him, as he carried the container of freshly baked cookies in the other hand. Perfect ones this time—golden, slightly cracked tops, smelling of vanilla and warmth.

“Ready?” he asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” you whispered.

They met you at the door. Dustin grinned wide, enveloping Steve in a hug first. Then he saw you. “And… she’s your girlfriend?” he asked, shock flashing.

Steve squeezed your hand. “Yeah. This pretty girl is my girlfriend.”

Dustin blinked, processing. “No way. Cool. Cool cool cool!”

Lucas leaned against the doorway, jaw slack. “Wait… I think I know you? From the mall? The one shopping with like… ten bags?”

You rolled your eyes, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Robin came next, hugging you lightly, but her eyes shot a pointed look at Steve. The “no way she’s your girlfriend” glare was unmistakable. You grinned anyway.

Max bounced over, hugging you. “Nancy, Jonathan, Will, Mike, and El can’t come—family trips—but we’ll survive!”

Steve introduced you to everyone else, names rolling off his tongue. You smiled as you repeated them silently in your head—practicing in the car had paid off.

The table was a picture of Thanksgiving bliss. Candles flickered in the center, the roasted turkey gleamed in golden perfection, stuffing steamed in a casserole dish, mashed potatoes fluffed like clouds, and your cookies nestled on a small decorative plate. The aroma filled the room, wrapping around everyone like a warm blanket.

You slid into your seat beside Steve, who gently brushed your hand under the table. He put all the veggies on your plate because you are “vegetarian.” You chewed your lip as the smell of the roasted turkey taunted you, regret bubbling for lying. 

The conversation flowed—easy, practiced. Questions about how you and Steve “met,” what you liked, what movies you loved. Steve occasionally laced his fingers through yours across the table, grounding you with little squeezes when your nerves spiked.

Then came the moment of truth—the cookies. Steve lifted one, eyes serious. Give everyone a  Don’t-hurt-her-feelings look. 

Everyone shared looks, and one by one, they bit.

“Wow,” Robin said, eyes wide. “These are… heaven.”

“Give me another!” Dustin cheered, reaching for a second.

“Recipe, please!” Max added, wide-eyed.

“Man,” Lucas said, leaning back with a grin, “I could die happy now.”

Steve’s brow furrowed as he took a bite himself. He froze, eyes wide, then blinked at you. Side-eye, almost accusatory—but you just smiled innocently.

“Really?” he asked quietly, voice low.

“I made them,” you said softly, shrugging. “Of course they’re delicious.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “You… are impossible.”

The rest of dinner went on with shared laughter, stories, and the kind of warmth that made the big house feel like a home. Plates clinked, wine glasses chimed softly, and every so often, Steve’s hand found yours under the table, grounding you both.

By the time dessert arrived, the cookies had been devoured. Steve leaned back, smiling at you with quiet pride. “Mission accomplished,” he said, voice low.

You nudged him gently and whispered. “Pretty sure they think I’m your perfect girlfriend.”

He laughed softly, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Perfect? Nah. But… I like this version of you.” You grinned, heart full, realizing—fake or not, it felt real.

Dessert plates sat empty, crumbs of cookies scattered like proof that something good had happened here. Conversation thinned into smaller pockets—Robin and Max arguing over music, Dustin retelling a story with way too many sound effects, Lucas laughing so hard he nearly choked on his drink.

You leaned back slightly in your chair, warmth blooming in your chest. Not just from the food—but from the feeling. The laughter. The way no one was looking at you like you didn’t belong.

Steve nudged your knee under the table. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded. “Yeah. Just… full.”

“Same,” he smiled. “Emotionally and physically.”

You laughed quietly.

At some point, the group started helping clear the table. You reached for a stack of plates, but Steve gently took them from your hands.

“I got it,” he said. “You’re a guest.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then stopped. Guest. Girlfriend. Fake girlfriend.

You followed him into the kitchen anyway.

The Buckley kitchen was smaller, warmer than the Harrington house. Steam rose from the sink, lights humming overhead. Steve stood beside you, sleeves rolled up, washing dishes. You handed him plates without thinking—like you’d done this a hundred times before.

The car slowed in front of your house, headlights washing over the familiar driveway. The engine idled for a second longer than necessary.

“Well,” Steve said, tapping the steering wheel, forcing cheer into his voice, “successful Thanksgiving. No one threw anything. That’s a win.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Five stars. Would fake-date again.”

He grinned, turning to you. “Same.”

You reached for the door handle, then paused. The words slipped out before you could stop them—too light, too casual.

“Okay,” you said, laughing softly, “I’m breaking up with you.”

Steve laughed immediately. “Wow. Over already? I didn’t even get dumped over a call.”

“Sorry,” you joked. “You were great. Truly. It’s not you, it’s—” You waved vaguely. “The contract ending.”

He shook his head, smiling. “Guess this is goodbye, then.”

You nodded, still smiling, even as something inside your chest cracked quietly. Because it was a joke. And also, somehow—it wasn’t. You opened the door and stepped out. The night air was cool, sobering. You closed the car door and stood there as Steve rolled the window down.

“Hey,” he said, softer now. “Thanks for today. For a week, really.”

“Yeah,” you replied. “Thank you too.”

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Steve nodded, put the car in drive, and pulled away.

You watched the taillights disappear down the street, your smile fading only once he was gone. The warmth of the car, the laughter, the closeness—all evaporated in an instant, leaving your chest hollow and cold, like winter had sneaked inside your ribcage.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, pressing your hands against a heart that refused to stop aching, a heart that had thought it was just playing along—and realized, too late, that it had been keeping score all along.

You thought you had rehearsed this, practiced the joke of letting him go… but nothing had prepared you for the way it hurt, for the way your chest ached as if someone had wrapped it in barbed wire and left it out to freeze.

It was supposed to be fake. Pretend. But pretend didn’t feel like this. Pretend didn’t leave your stomach twisting, didn’t make your hands tremble, didn’t make the world feel emptier the second he was gone.

No way you were the one catching feelings.

…Right?

────﹒♡﹒────

The Summer of '89 had come and gone.

The kids were now off at college, Nancy was back in Boston, and Johnathan and Robin were back in New York.

And as for you and your long-term boyfriend Steve Harrington, you were both staring new jobs...at Hawkins High

You got a job as an 11th grade English teacher. Your little brother Dustin may have been Valedictorian and a border-line mad scientist, but you were a damn near poet laureate. In fact, your plaques still lined Hawkins High's extensive trophy case in the lobby.

Steve had landed a job as the P.E teacher as well as the baseball and basketball coach.

It was no shock that you and Steve would find passion in teaching, you both love kids, as evident by the six you watched over for years.

But now you were both in his car on the way to your first day. Steve had one hand on the wheel in front of him and the other laid comfortable on your thigh, making loving circles with his thumb.

He was calm, too calm.

You on the other hand couldn't stop touching up your make-up in the sun-visor's mirror, ranting nervously as you do so.

"I mean, what if these kids can tell I was a dork in high school? The last time I was in this building I literally had a douchebag purposefully knock my books out of my hands and call me a 'virgin' like I was in some sort of crappy movie." You say, fixing your mascara.

Steve lets out a huff, "That's crazy...You were definitely not a virgin at that time." He said with a smirk.

You groan and roll your eyes, "Steve! This is serious." You scolded.

"C'mon, babe. If you recall correctly I threw that asshole against a locker so hard for doing that to you he nearly shit his pants as he ran away...Nothing is gonna happen to you." He tells you as he calmly ran his hand up and down your thigh.

Despite being "King Steve's" girlfriend for the last year and a half of high school, many of the people that ran in Steve's circle still targeted you. It was something you hid from him for awhile until he caught some dicks from his basketball team cornering you. Once you'd confessed to him the teasing stopped, but some still slipped through the cracks.

You laughed quietly, "I just don't wanna fail these kids...They've been through a lot the past few years-" You say nervously before Steve interrupts you.

"You could never fail anyone, sweetheart. You have also been through so much these past few years and even during the end of the damn world you never let anyone down...You're gonna be the best damn English teacher this school has ever seen. I mean, hell, you're the only reason I passed English!"

You smiled at his confession, he always knew how to make you feel better.

"And I'm sure you already know this, but you're gonna be a pretty damn good coach." You tell him.

"Oh, duh!" He exclaims as he pulls into the gravel parking lot.

The only cars in the lot had belonged to teachers, ones who were setting up their rooms like you were about to.

You take a deep breath as Steve puts his car in park.

"Are you ready?" He asks you while grabbing your hand.

"As I'll ever be..." You respond as he plants a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

-----

Your classroom had been a quaint little room on the second floor. It was dusty and smelled like old books...It was perfect.

Steve had helped you bring in your boxes of supplied -meaning he carried everything while you unlocked your classroom- before he left to set up his office within the gym.

You had set up your desk neatly, your colorful pens were in a cup, your books were neatly stacked, and a plaque that read "Ms. Henderson" sat front and center.

It was a gift from your little brother who joked he'd probably have to buy you a "Mrs. Harrington" one soon. A joke that spread a red blush across your face and a "Seriously dude, should've just waited a bit!" From Steve.

You were now standing on a rickety step stool to put up some posters on the back wall as carefully as possible.

You were so focused on maintaining your balance you didn't hear your classroom door open.

"Hey-" An unfamiliar voice rang out, pulling you from your concentration.

"Woah- I'm sorry I didn't mean to spook you!" The voice said.

You turned your head around, and when you did you were faced with an unfamiliar man.

He was tall, not as tall as Steve. He had neatly styled blonde hair and a smug look to his eyes.

His hands were in his khakis pockets. the khakis his button up and sweater vest was tucked into.

"I'm David Lawrence, I'm a science teacher." He says crossing the room with his hand out.

You stepped down from the step stool carefully to shake his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Y/N Henderson...I'm a first year English teacher." You told him.

He held onto your hand a little too long for it to be normal, in fact you were the one to have to pull away.

He gave you a cocky smile as he crossed his arms, "Ah. Fresh meat. This is gonna be my second year here, it's stressful but definitely great." He informed you.

You laughed awkwardly, "Yeah, I'm looking forward to this year. I went here myself so it's kinda cool to be back!" You said to him politely.

He lets out a small "Hmm" in response as he wandered around your half-decorated room.

"Do you need any help setting anything up? Anything heavy or that needs to go up high?" He offers.

"Oh-No thank you, I think I'm all set. Just need to finish putting up some posters then I'm all done." You inform him.

He nods at you and you don't miss the way his eyes rake over your figure in your dress slightly.

You clear your throat awkwardly before he turns towards the direction of your desk.

"Well, I hope your first day goes well, Y/N." He said to you.

The way his first name rolls off his tongue makes you feel...odd. Almost as if he didn't see you as a colleague.

"Thank you, Mr. Lawrence." You respond professionally.

He laughed and ran his hand through his styled hair, "You can all me David." He said to you, leaning back against your desk with his hands planted on either side of him.

You internally groaned in annoyance, does he really not get the hint?

"It's just more professional to call you by your last name." You respond.

His gaze fell to your nameplate, he then picked it up and read it before letting out an amused laugh, "This is cute." He said to you.

"Yeah, my brother got me that when I landed this job." You respond, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth at the mention of your little brother.

"Someone like you won't need this plate for long, gonna be changed in no time." He said to you before placing it back on your desk, crookedly.

Unlike when Dustin said it, Mr. Lawrence's words left you with an uneasy feeling.

"Um, I should really get back to decorating now...But thank you so stopping by." You said to him kindly.

"Hey, if you ever need anything I'm on the first floor, 101." He tells you before carrying himself out of the room with his hands in his pocket once again.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Lawrence." You told him politely...Not that you meant it entirely.

"You too, Y/N." He said closing the door.

You rolled your eyes when he was out of sight.

He was a typical douche, a textbook definition of one.

He was just like the guys who would ask you to scoop the furthest ice cream so you'd have to bend over to get it.

He was just like the guys who INSISTED they needed help in the X-rated section of family video.

He was just like the guys who's call in at WSQK to ask you what you were wearing.

Then something hit you...

Steve used to practically chase those guys out of Scoops Ahoy while telling those pervs to "Get their own girlfriend to oogle at."

Steve used to insist he could help those guys at Family Video, who then blubbered as he followed them behind the curtain since you, his girlfriend, was busy organizing tapes...No you weren't.

Steve used to grab the mic and and describe exactly what he was wearing and how his girlfriend, YOU, picked it out for him...Even if you didn't.

Steve never let anyone disrespect you or your relationship, and you didn't see him stopping now.

Except this was your career, not some stupid job you had for some extra pocket money.

If Steve knew this guy was clearly hitting on you he would surely defend you like he has in the past.

You just decided to keep decorating since your students would be here within the next hour.

This would be a problem for lunch time.

-----

Your first few classes flew by with a shocking ease.

Your students were attentive and clearly interested in your class and enjoyed having a young teacher they could sort-of relate to.

You also couldn't help but giggle at the two girls in your second period class who couldn't stop talking about "how hot the new gym teacher is".

If you weren't their teacher you'd happily agree verbally. But you just kept it in your head.

You were alone in your classroom organizing some folders when a gentle knock graced your door.

Your eyes shot up to the door where your boyfriend was was peaking his head in.

"Is this Ms. Henderson's room? You know, 'the hot new English teacher', as my kids are calling her." He says while walking over to you and rolling his eyes slightly.

You laugh at him, "Funnily enough, my girls couldn't stop talking about the hot new gym teacher..." You say to him as he plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

"Steve! No PDA at school!" You fuss him.

He looks around your room slowly, "I don't see any...public." He says, causing you to roll your eyes playfully.

"You ready for lunch, Mr. Harrington?" You ask him, standing up.

He groans, "Please, don't call me that." He whines.

You giggle, knowing exactly what you've done.

-----

You both sat in the teacher's lounge eating the lunches you had both packed last night in your kitchen.

"I'm excited for tryouts today, might have to use my 'I was basketball captain three years in a row I was that good' card." He joked.

You laughed at hime, "I can't think of a better time to use it-" You say before your conversation was interrupted.

"Y/N!" You heard from behind you.

Great. Mr. Lawrence.

"Hey, Mr. Lawrence." You say politely, Steve could feel your mood shift slightly.

His face was stern as he looked up at the man who was now standing between you two.

"How has your first day been so far? Any of the kids giving you any trouble?" He asked.

Steve wasn't stupid. He had quiet a few girlfriends in his time before you and flirted with his fair share of women.

What this guy was doing was painful to watch. He was flirting with Steve's girlfriend...In front of him.

And he hadn't even acknowledged him.

You had cut off Mr. Lawrence's rambling briefly, "Mr. Lawrence, this is the new P.E coach, Steve- Sorry, Mr.Harrington." You introduced him.

While you were allowed to be dating each other, you and Steve decided to keep your relationship separate from work unless it came up naturally.

In this moment Steve sort of hated he agreed to that.

Mr. Lawrence looked a little stunned at you interrupting him, his gaze fell on Steve who was sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed.

"Hey, man. Nice to meet you. You can all me Steve if you'd like." Steve said, extending his hand out politely.

"David Lawrence," He said while shaking Steve's hand weakly before turning to you, "Y/N, I thought you liked calling coworkers by their last names." He said, laughing slightly.

Your face twisted in a rather awkward expression so Steve stepped in, "So, David, what do you teach?" Steve asks, fiddling with the whistle around his neck.

"Science." He responded quickly, this time not even looking at Steve, "So, Y/N, first day and you've already made friends with another newbie, I thought I could tell you all about the school during lunch." He says slyly.

"Well, Mr. Harrington and I go way back." You inform him as you sneakily rubbed Steve's ankle under the table with your foot.

"Wayyyy back." Steve said looking at David.

He had shot Steve a look, a look that said 'Dude, I'm in the middle of something here'. But Steve simply didn't care, because the girl he was trying to get was extremely taken.

David checked his watch before huffing slightly, "Well, I've got somewhere to be..I'll see you around, Y/N." He said sending a wink your way, "Steve." He nodded before taking off.

Steve's eyes never left David's as he left the room.

"I thought he planned on showing you the ropes, guess he double booked?" Steve said before taking a sip of his water.

You rolled your eyes, "He stopped by my room this morning and introduced himself, he's kinda a douche." You whisper that last part to Steve.

"Oh, grade-A shithead...Did he say anything to you this morning?" Steve asked you protectively.

You picked at your food with your fork before hesitantly telling him, "He made a comment about my nameplate, that's all." You said.

Steve sat up straighter, "What did he say?" He asked.

You hesitated, "He said someone like me probably won't need a plate with my maiden name for much longer..." You said quietly.

Steve starred at you as if you had just stabbed him.

He was about to stand up when you grabbed his wrist, avoiding drawing attention to you two.

"Steve!" You whisper shout as he sat back down.

"Sweetheart, I think this is one of those situations where it'd be appropriate to tell a coworker we're dating." He tells you.

"Look, it's nothing I can't handle. I'm remaining professional, if it escalates I'll tell him I'm very serious relationship." You tell him and you see his expression cool down.

He nods at you and smiles, "You're right. But if he keeps bothering you, you better tell me and I'm kicking his preppy ass." He tell you.

You laugh, "Stevie, you have never won a fight." You inform him and he rolls his eyes, "I knocked out that Russian-" He whispers.

"Fine. I'll give you that." You tell him.

The rest of lunch went perfect, but David Lawrence was living in Steve's head. This guy had no right flirting with you at your place of work...In front of your boyfriend.

-----

That night you two were lying in bed, talking before drifting off to sleep, just like you two did every night.

You laid on his bear chest, running your hands through the soft hair that adorns it when he brings up the one topic you hope he wouldn't.

"I can't believe he said that about your nameplate." He said while starring at the ceiling.

You groaned slightly, "Steve-" You say.

"I'm just saying! Should we tell him you're very much not single and you wouldn't cheat on me with a Ken doll?" He said, making you giggle into his chest.

"Stevie, I'm sure he'll forget about me by the end of the week...Don't get all possessive and get us in trouble at work." You say to him.

He sighs, "I just know how guys like him work...And I don't like it." He says.

You kiss his chest lightly, "You're cute when you're like this." You said, making him giggle, "Besides, you couldn't lose me during the end of the world, you're not losing me to knock-off George Michael." You said.

He laughed and tilted up your chin to plant a soft kiss on your lips.

You drifted off to sleep before he did, he was awake thinking about all the ways he could get his basketball team to act as your personal body guards.

-----

A few weeks went by with ease and soon autumn was rolling into Hawkins.

Steve was coaching his basketball team and was becoming a class-favorite educator.

You were reading The Odyssey with your classes and running the school's debate club.

You were both busy and extremely happy. However, David never did stop bugging you. In fact, he made it a point to stop by your class rather often, way too often for Steve's liking.

Which is exactly what Steve was telling Dustin.

Steve sat in his small office with his feet kicked up on his desk, the wire of the wall-phone was stretching to reach him as he sat ranting to Dustin into the receiver.

"And this guy is a TOTAL douche and is hitting on your sister." Steve ranted.

"Gross dude, and you're just letting him?" Dustin responded.

"You and I both know Y/N can handle herself, she's just trying to be professional, which is the right thing to do. Look, when we worked meaningless jobs I could tell-off any perv that looked at her funny, and believe me there were a lot-"

"Ew" Dustin interrupted.

"But these are our careers, man. She shouldn't have to tell anyone I'm her boyfriend or that she has one in order to be respected." Steve sighed.

"Maybe at this point you should say something to him, he's disrespecting both of you." Dustin said, "Look, it's only a matter of time before my sister makes him cry if you guys don't tell him you're dating..."

Steve laughed slightly and looked the framed photo on his desk of you, him, and Dustin at Dustin's graduation this past May.

"You're right kid, I know you're right...I miss you." Steve says, "Miss you too man, and tell my sister I miss her a lot." Dustin said.

They bid each other goodbyes right as Steve got a knock on his office door.

His eyes flickered to the pane of glass where David stood.

Great.

Steve stood up and put the phone back on the wall and sat back in his chair, "C'mon in." He said, adjusting the frame so David couldn't see it.

"Can I help you Mr. Lawrence?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, actually you can." He said smuggly.

Steve's eyes pointed at him, "I need you to back off Henderson." David said.

Steve let out a laugh and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, "Excuse me?" Steve asked, amused.

"I don't care how far back you two go, if she was interested in you you'd be together by now. She has never once mentioned a boyfriend and I see you two together all the time. Back off, dude." He said.

Steve blinks slowly, he sits up and placed his clasped hands on his desk.

"I'm sorry, are you telling me to stop speaking to Ms. Henderson because you want to date her?" Steve asked.

"I'm telling you to, guy to guy, that I'm working something out here and you need to stay out of it." David said.

"Yeah, good luck with that one, dude." Steve said nonchalantly as he pulled out his clipboard and began reviewing plays.

David was clearly annoyed by his lack of care, "Excuse me?" David asked offendedly.

"You're not her type." Steve said without even looking up.

David let out a huff, "And you're an expert in her type?" He asked.

"Look, Mr. Lawrence, all I have to say to you is that you're honestly disrespecting Ms. Henderson by constantly interrupting her class-time and infiltrating her space. Maybe instead of being so focused on asking her out, you should be more focused on respecting her as a coworker." Steve said, only looking up at David towards the end.

David huffed and left his office, leaving his door open.

Steve could only sigh, he knew that if he said what he actually wanted to say just now, he'd not only have lost his job but would be escorted out of here in handcuffs.

He trusted you to hold your own against David, he's seen you turn down many people before...He just hopes he can watch it live.

-----

That afternoon you stayed after-school to work on paperwork for your debate team's first meeting.

Once you were finished you locked up your classroom and made your way to the gym to meet Steve in his office, it was finally Friday and you and Steve were treating yourselves to a date at Enzo's tonight.

However you were stopped in the hallway right outside the gym.

"Hey! Y/N!" David say loudly.

You sighed to yourself before turning around, "Yes, Mr. Lawrence?" You said.

"I didn't think you'd be here this late." He said walking up to you and fixing his hair slightly.

"I was just finishing up some things for the debate team before going home for the weekend." You said before trying to walk away, but David grabbed your wrist.

You looked at him with wide eyes, "I actually needed to ask you something." David said slyly.

You pulled your wrist away from him, causing him to laugh slightly, "I was wondering if you wanted to come by my place tonight for some wine and...Maybe we could get to know each other better?" He flirts.

"No. Sorry, Mr. Lawrence, but we're just co-workers." You say, once again turning towards the gym.

"Co-workers are allowed to date, we're adults-" He said to you before you cut him off, "I have a boyfriend!" You shout, shocking him a little bit.

After a moment he huffed, "Yeah, ok...Sure, I get it." He huffed.

"What?" You pushed.

"You don't have to make up a fake boyfriend, could've just said you didn't want to go out with me." He said, crossing his arms as an angry expression painted his features.

Your mouth parted slightly and your eyebrows furrowed, "I have had a boyfriend for four years now, it just wasn't any of your business!" You told him.

You could hear footsteps on the wood-panneling of the gym floor, they were faint at first but were getting louder.

David rolled his eyes, "Oh, please. Classic bitch." He said as the footsteps stopped.

Both of your heads snapped to the gym door where a figure stood.

"What did you just say to my girlfriend?" Steve said with an anger you've never heard before.

David looked stunned.

"What? Nothing to say now?" Steve said walking over to him, standing toe to toe.

"Ms. Henderson shouldn't have to tell you she has a boyfriend for you to fuck-off with your pathetic excuse for flirting. She is an academic, a damn good teacher, and your co-worker." Steve said, "So if I was you, I'd fucking apologize to her right now, because she is the furthest thing from a bitch." He added.

David could only shake his head and huff, "You're ridiculous, Harrington." David said, he turned to face you, "I apologize for calling you a bitch." David said flatly.

Steve crossed his arms, "And?" He egged on.

David sighed, "And for treating you like that when you deserve to be respected." He added.

Steve looked at you for conformation and you nodded.

"Oh!" Steve said, pointing at David, "You're also to call her Ms. Henderson until she becomes Mrs. Harrington." Steve said and David pointed his gaze at him sharply.

Steve grabbed your hand and led you two outside, you were silently laughing the whole way to the car.

"Stevie!" You laughed at him when he opened the car door for you.

When he got in the drivers side he leaned over and planted a passionate kiss on your lips.

"That was insane!" You said to him as he kissed your jaw.

"I couldn't hold back anymore..." He told you pulling away, "If you had to raise your voice at work, I knew it was serious...Then I heard him call you a bitch and I just-" He said before you cut him off with a kiss.

"Well, for the record it was very hot." You told him.

"Yeah?" He responded.

"Yeah...And whenever you're ready to make me Mrs. Harrington, I'll be ready." You say winking at him.

He presses one more kiss to your lips before resversing out of the lot.

It was funny you mentioned it, because tonight at dinner the little velvet box that's been burning a hole in his desk drawer will finally be yours.

And he can't wait to see the look on David's face on Monday when you walk in with a diamond ring on your finger that says you're name plate will need an update very soon.

———————————————————————

Your palms were sweating, your face was sweating, could legs sweat? You’re not entirely sure, but they felt like they were sweating the most. When you heard it was your turn to go on stage, you swore you were about to run out of the room, change your name, and not look back.

The stage lights were blinding and you swear your body just didn’t work anymore. Mrs. Robinson gave you a smile before pushing up her glasses, “whenever you’re ready dear.” You always liked Mrs. Robinson, she was a great drama teacher. Very sweet, you always imagined her as a cat lady with exactly three cats: snuffles, tangerine, and pickle. However, right now, she was the most intimidating thing you’ve ever seen. you take a deep breath in before beginning. You could feel your body getting into a rhythm, a sense of calm washes over you as you begin delivering your lines. Mrs Robinson smiling and jotting some notes down. You always felt so at peace on the stage. There was something so special about turning yourself off and hopping into another character, it made you feel whole. You couldn’t image yourself anywhere else. It was meant for you, it was always meant for you.

Everything appeared to be going well, until the middle of your monologue you hear some snickering and claps that echoed across the auditorium. You did your best to block out the noise.

“What’s in a name? That which we call- um.” The noises got louder in the back of the auditorium, it sounded like whispers and cheers, and your mind began to go blank. Shit shit shit you’re forgetting the words. You try your best to avoid your eyes steering where the sound was coming from, but it was no use, your eyes auto directed towards the noise, Steve Harrington and his two simpleton henchmen.

“A rose, by any other word-“ before you know it, Carol and Tommy H. Started hollering and screaming through their hands in the most obnoxious and mocking way ever, Steve only sits and smiles watching you, but doing nothing to stop them. You begin to stutter, Mrs. Robinson, taking in your discomfort, turns around, takes off her glasses and begins yelling.

“You three! Out! Now!” Heat climbs all over your face as you stand on the stage, feeling vulnerable and awkward. “Harrington, Perkins, Hagen. I’ll see you three in detention!” Mrs. Robinson threatened. It didn’t have any effect though, Tommy and Carol only rolled their eyes and laughed as they hopped over the auditorium seats to exit, Steve strolling behind.

“Blow me” Carol blew Mrs. Robinson an air kiss.

“Break a leg!” Tommy shouted at you laughing deviously like the idiot he was, before blowing a whistle like noise through his fingers.

You were doing so well before being interrupted, now you’re going to have to start over and find that rhythm again, you stand back in the center of the stage ready to restart. Okay, you’ve got this, again.

“I’ve seen enough” Mrs Robinson looks down at her notes, “you can go sweetheart, thank you.”

“what?” you mutter out “oh I- I didn’t finish” you smile awkwardly, you could feel the tears swelling up in your eyes and your throat closing in.

“That’s alright dear, I’ve seen what I needed.”

“Right! Absolutely. But- if I could just take a few more minutes of your time to redo my scene-“

“That won’t be necessary” your heart fell to your stomach. You could only stare forward, scared that making any sudden reactions would result in you bawling in front of your theatre director, which would 100% be very unprofessional. There was no way your fate was being determined by three assholes who barged in to embarrass you, you worked too hard for your mistakes to not even be from you but instead outside forces who can’t even write a full sentence. When you turned your head, Kristy Claybell picked at her nails and smiled, waiting for you to get off the stage so she could blow Mrs. Robinson's mind with her talent and take Juliet right from under your nose.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from tearing up, you smiled at Mrs. Robinson and thanked her for her time before grabbing your bag and quickly pushed through the auditorium doors. You needed to go home, you needed to call Robin and tell her what a douchebag Steve Harrington was, maybe even egg his house! I mean, he was literally next door over, so it wouldn’t require much travel.

———————————————————————

As you swiftly ran out the auditorium, you conveniently ran into Steve and his two goons. Perfect.

“Hey” Steve smiled at you, perching himself up with one arm on a locker, you would be thinking he looked really good right now, but you were mixed with so much rage, despair, and the complete need to down some Ben and Jerry’s chocolate ice cream and cry into your dad’s arms, that you couldn’t think anything positive of him right now. You had to go home.

“How’d the rest of the audition go princess?” Tommy smiled while trying not to laugh, Carol snorted into her sleeve.

Your mind told you to walk away from them, that they weren’t worth it, don’t give them the satisfaction, but you instead turned back to look at them, trying your best not to let your throat close in and cry. “Yeah, uh-” you lick your teeth “I wouldn’t know, because after the bullshit you three pulled, I got sent home. So.”

“Woah- what?” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You ruined my audition, Steve. That’s what.” You looked up at him waiting for him to somehow justify himself, but he wasn’t looking at you. He felt guilty, it was supposed to be harmless, he didn’t think you would be the one to bear the consequences.

“It was just a joke, relax.” Carol spat at you, quite literally, with all the gum she’s smacking like her life depended on it, probably going through withdrawal from all the packs she needed to smoke.

“Okay, so I actually wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” Your voice was sprayed with venom, you’re normally a very nice and delightful human being, but you’ve been meaning to spite Carol, especially since the nasty shit she pulled on Robin. Carol accused Robin of checking her out in the girl’s locker room, while all the girls sneered and giggled, Robin couldn’t do anything to defend herself. It made her feel helpless. While you were furious for your best friend, prepared to key Carol’s car, she told you to let it go, that it wasn’t worth it. Well Robin! That was for you!

Carol scoffed, ready to have some kind of catfight with you, but Steve blocked you with his body, holding you tightly, and telling Hagen to get his girl and walk off. When Carol and Tommy finally left, you shoved Steve off of you. God, you had so much pent up rage and momentum.

“You’re such an asshole.” You shook your head and felt the tears about to fall. “Of all the things you’ve done, Harrington, this is the lowest blow.” Harrington. It made his face grimace when you said it, he’s never been Harrington to you. Steve normally, Steven whenever you were annoyed with him (playfully annoyed he would think.) He really liked Steven, the only other people to call him Steven were his parents, but it was a lot cuter coming from you. Never Harrington though, he could add this to his mental notes of you, if you called him Harrington you were really really pissed. It was like you were trying to act like you didn’t know him, like there was a social disconnect between you two.

he said your name in the quietest comforting voice “I’m sorry, okay?” He was trying to find all the right words, “look. I didn’t know that was going to happen. I swear- Tommy and Carol, I mean, they’re just idiots, you know them.” He awkwardly laughed, like that’s an excuse.

“The three of you, were just conveniently being idiots while I was on stage, that’s great, just great. Thanks for that.” you spew sarcastically, “you actually couldn’t have picked a better time!” You shrug, walking away. Steve was right behind you, swooping in to be right in front of you once more.

“Hey, hey” Steve lightly grabbed the sides of your shoulders, “I swear to you. I just came to” he pauses before looking down “watch you.. you know, and support you.” Steve feels so shy suddenly, he knows how it sounds, especially with your perv comment from earlier. Because yes, Steve did enjoy being in your presence and watching you perform, he admired it.

“Why would you ever want to do that?” To you it was some kind of joke, but to Steve it was like a rhetorical question. Why wouldn’t he? He loves everything you do, scratch that, he loves everything about you. When you were up on that stage, Steve Harrington looked at you like you hung the moon and created the stars, just for him.

“Tommy and Carol just wanted to tag along when they heard where I was going, I didn’t know they were going to do that. I didn’t, I swear.”

“And you didn’t stop it. You just let them sit there and humiliate me.” Steve stares at you now, mouth gone dry. You’re right. He should’ve stopped it. “Thanks to you, I have blown the biggest callback of my life, for the one thing I really wanted, something I worked-” the tears were working up again, damn it. “So hard for. I mean you knew that, right?” Steve looked at you like a lost puppy, maybe in a different context you would feel even a sliver of compassion, but not now. No way. “You sat by the window and listened to me and Robin rehearsing every day for hours. And now? It was all for nothing, and Mrs. Robinson probably thinks I’m not taking it seriously, so yes, please thank Tommy H and Carol for me, ok?” You give him one last sarcastic lip tight smile.

“I’m sorry- cmon, please, let me make it up to you, let me take you home, okay?” he pleaded, he’ll get on his knees if that’s really what you want “and I’ll- I’ll talk to Mrs Robinson, tell her it’s all just a big misunderstanding- “

“-What’s that going to do? You think she’ll listen to you? Steve, you failed drama twice.” It was three times. But who’s counting. “Besides, even if she did listen, what? I’m going to get a role I didn’t deserve, all because the hero Steve the Hair Harrington somehow talked me up? yeah, no thanks.” You scoffed.

Steve was determined to fix this for you, you’re more deserving of this than anyone he knew. “You know, I could turn on my charm and-“

“Jesus Harrington! Stop talking!” You put your arms out like you were about to strangle him, “You caused this. The least you could do is shut your damn mouth and leave me alone. I never want to talk to you again.” If you knew any better, you would say there were little specs of tears in Steve Harrington’s eyes. You walked out, leaving Steve standing in the hallway feeling his heart was chipping away one piece at a time.

——————————————————————-

Over the past couple days, you have been doing nothing but bed-rotting with Robin, you refused to get up, and as your best friend, she also now refused to get up and has now more of a reason to hate Steve Harrington than she already did before. All you could think about was that on Monday when you got back to school, the cast list would be up, and you’d be nowhere on it.

Steve had also been trying to reach out:

Calling your house, you told your dad to tell him you weren’t home. Ever.

Slipping notes through your lockers, a lot of “I’m sorry” “please don’t stay mad” and “I’ll drive you home after school, yeah?” Crumbled, crumbled, and crumbled.

Shining a flashlight through your window. You and Steve used to do this as kids, it was a funny gag to annoy the other person. But now he was doing it to get your attention, which led to Robin screaming at him because the light flickering on and off over and over again was nearly going to give her a migraine.

“Jesus Christ Harrington!” Robin grabbed on to your curtains at the window before shouting, “get a clue dingus! She doesn’t want to talk to you!” Robin slammed your window shut before dragging the curtains along with it.

It was Sunday. You forgot the Harringtons were invited over for dinner, and it was petty to get the entire family involved in your drama. So, at dinner, you barely said anything at all. Not unless provoked, such as being asked a question, then you just got really obnoxious.

“Are you feeling alright?” Your dad asked you, Steve looks at you, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah, yeah, just down. You know, just some drama at school.” Now you were piercing your eyes right into Steve Harrington’s soul. Steve scoffs, he feels bad but you were doing way too much. He can’t complain though, he deserves it.

The rest of the dinner went smoothly, you were polite and cordial, made a couple jokes here and there, and was completely successful in avoiding Steve. He wishes you took at least one glance at him, because he was watching you the whole night, not even just in guilt, he always just liked looking at you, and it killed him that you weren’t looking back and possibly blushing like you used to.

By the end of the night, Mrs. Harrington was saying her goodbyes to your grandparents, making plans to have dinner again next week, and Mr. Harrington and your father were chatting about the upcoming football game and fixing the fence dividing your houses that you accidentally ran into with your car (whoops, sorry..) That just left you with Steve, who you couldn’t look in the eye. You say a blanket goodnight to everyone before exiting the front entrance and walking up the stairs to your room to get away from him.

“Hey” Steve’s breath was shaky, he followed you to the bottom of the steps, you rolled your eyes and kept walking. “I know! Okay I messed up! ” he calls out to you, he’s pleading again. “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but just, give me three minutes of your time and you’ll never have to talk to me again if that’s not what you want.”

“Two.” You deadpan.

“I’ll make it one” Steve chuckles, and you almost chuckle too, almost. “I just want to say- I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Thursday. I should’ve shut them up, maybe punched Tommy H in the face, and I shouldn’t have ruined your callback thing.”

“You’re telling me things I already know, Harrington.”

“But- but. I just want to say, before Tommy and Carol opened their mouths, you were really good. I mean! You’re always good. It’s just, seeing you on that stage reading your old English or whatever, I knew, you were the perfect Juliet. Granted, I never finished reading Romeo and Juliet for English class and uh shit fuck, I swear I rehearsed this.”

“You got 30 seconds” it was more like 15, but if he continued to flatter you, you’ll give him an extra 15 seconds just to compliment you.

“Okay okay I- I know I messed up, but I swear to you, god, no one, I mean no one is built for that role more than you. So I just came here to say, don’t sweat about that stupid nerdy cast list. If you’re not on it, it won’t be because of me, or Carol, or Tommy H, but because Mrs. Robinson is an idiot who can’t see what I see.” Your eyes narrowed. “You won’t have to worry about that list though, cause I know you’ll be Juliet, and I’m sorry I’m a dumb knucklehead that pushed you a little off course of that.” Steve finally let go of his breath, he could have the chops to be an actor too if he really tried, great breath control. “That’s all.”

You stare at him trying not to smile even a little, you wanted him to grovel a little more, but you appreciated everything you heard.

“Goodnight Harrington.”

“Goodnight.” Steve watched you walk up the steps to your room before closing your door, he caught a little glimpse of your yellow and pink wallpaper. He’s seen your room through his window, memorizing the posters on your walls and the knick knacks on your nightstand, but never has gotten the privilege to actually be physically in there.

One day though.

———————————————————————

The following Monday, you avoided the theatre blackbox as much as possible, knowing the list will be up and your fate will be sealed. You feel heavy, like your feet are just dragging on the ground and a rain cloud you can’t seem to shake resides above you.

“Hey!” You can hear Robin scream from behind you, she’s panting, “I have been running all over this damn school looking for you.” Robin was your other half, but right now, her sunny disposition and your melancholy existence do not mix well. She grabs your shoulders tightly before turning you around, making you squeal “have you checked the cast list?” Her tone sharp, and actually kind of scary.

“No, Rob. And I don’t plan to, there’s no point.”

“But! Did you hear who got Juliet?” She practically screams in your ear.

“Tell Kristy I said congratulations and I know she’ll do amazing as always.” You try to open your locker to grab your notebooks, but Robin had other plans.

“Oh my god, Kristy Claybell can suck a fat one.” Robin grabs you by the collar and basically drags you to the cast list, you refused to look at first, but Robin wouldn’t stop hitting you on the arm.

“Okay! Okay!” You slapped her back, your eyes traced over the sheet, starting at the bottom, assuming you’d be placed in the ensemble. When you can't find your name you keep going up and up.

“Congratulations on Mercutio.” You gave Robin a fist bump, still keeping your eyes on the sheet. “I don’t see my name anywhere.” You feel deflated, you could’ve at least made ensemble rather than nothing at all.

Robin’s eyes roll to the back of her head “You’re such a dingus.” She places your finger at the very top of the page.

Your name. Next to Juliet.

You’re Juliet.

“Holy shit!” You’re Juliet! You want to scream and jump up and down with Robin, but you feel too excited, like the happiness radiating from your body was somehow pushing you down. Plus, it was best not to gloat, Kristy and the other candidates were standing right there, but you swore someone whispered “She was definitely the best choice.”

After you calmed down, for some reason, the first thing that popped into your head was to tell your charmingly annoying neighbor. You wanted to go up to Steve and tell him your big news, but why would he care? He thought theatre was for nerds anyway, and like he said, he never finished Romeo and Juliet for his English class. Walking to grab your notebooks, you had a little extra pep in your step, you couldn’t help but do a little dance when opening your locker. When you swung it open, a note dropped into your hands.

You picked it up, and opened it with so much care, “Congratulations :) I knew you could do it.” it read. You knew exactly who this was from.

You hear someone clearing their throat right behind you, Steve Harrington, the one and only.

“When’d you slip this in my locker, stalker?” You give a sly smile.

Steve scratched the back of his neck, keeping the other hand tightly behind his back. “Right when I found out. I paced back and forth all morning for Mrs. Robinson to come out and stick the list on the board, she shook her head and rolled her eyes when she saw me.” He whispered, “I wanted to be the first person to congratulate you when I knew you’d get it.” He shrugged, he wanted to appear nonchalant.

You two look at one another, there’s something there that you can’t quite place, but you like it, you really like it. It’s like you two were magnets, pulling closer and closer to one another.

You both cough at the same time and Steve laughs awkwardly before he remembered “oh uh- I got you these.” Steve pulls his hand from his back revealing a bouquet of flowers. “I got this for you before the cast list even came out you know- like if you somehow didn’t get Juliet, I guess these would be like “I’m sorry for being an asshole” flowers, but like I thought you would get it- so actually these are more like congratulation flowers-“

“I thought theatre was dorky.” you smiled, grabbing the flowers from his hands. He was rambling and his cheeks were turning bright pink.

“No! No. It’s cool, well it’s cool when you do it.” Steve Harrington could never keep composure around you for more than a minute. The usual charm and flirtatious manner he seemed to wow the girls with never seemed to work when it came to you, he melted for you. You turned his legs to jello and you brought out the little boy in him who used to try to scare you just so you’d yell “Steven!” He loved hearing you say his name.

“I know the tradition is to bring flowers on a show’s opening night, but i already bought these and obviously these would die by the time-“ Steve was cut off when you perched yourself up to quickly plant a peck on his lips, it was quick and soft, he wish he had the power to slow down time to take it all in. He blinked rapidly, unable to process what had just happened. He definitely wasn’t mad though, quite the opposite actually.

“Thanks, Steven.” You close your locker, after grabbing your notebooks and the bouquet before walking off. You quickly turn around and walk backwards “drive me home okay?” You smile before spinning and going off to class.

Steven. You couldn’t see it but Steve pumps his fist in the air. Oh yeah, Steve Harrington was so out of the dog house.

————————————————————————

Mango talks! Again!: thank you so much for reading. If you want to check out more neighbor Steve, you can read:

This way!

It really didn’t take much convincing for you to hop into his passenger seat — spring hadn’t exactly sprung yet, and the nights still frosted over. To be fair to Steve, his car was really nice. He clearly loved it, there weren’t wrappers or trash stuck in the seats like the rest of your classmates who could drive, he really looked after it. It was nice.

Your mouth opened to tell him your address but Steve’s right hand was already in the air, waving you off.

“I’ve dropped Dustin off a million times, I know it.”

You shut your mouth with a start, simultaneously impressed and taken aback. It hadn’t occurred to you that Steve could have any sense of direction, last semester you would have been surprised if he found his way out of a cardboard box.

Rock music played through the car’s stereo, way nicer than the one in your mom’s old shitbox. Your hands folded across the madras plaid pattern of your skirt, picking nervously at your already chipping nail polish.

“Yeah,” You said after much too long of a moment, “Yeah, why is that?”

Steve’s head turned all the way to look at you for five seconds, the long straight road ahead open for his distraction. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head, trying to decipher how much you knew.

“Saved the world together or whatever. He’s a good kid.” You narrowed your eyes.

“Were you as banged up as he was after?”

“Worse.” Steve’s voice was uncharacteristically sombre so you let it go, bringing up instead your teacher’s horrendous embroidered cat cardigan this afternoon, which successfully veered you both into safer waters.

The drive ended, and no one was more surprised than you to admit that you wouldn’t have minded a little longer. Your hand lingered on the door, reluctant to leave.

“Thanks again for the ride,” You said softly, looking back at him.

“Anytime,” He replied, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel, “Thanks for helping me study.”

“No worries. Let me know if, you know, you need more help before the final.”

Steve smiled, wide and blinding in the confined space of his car. He nodded like he didn’t quite believe you were offering.

“That would be great, actually. Keep this up and you might move up to be my favourite Henderson,” He joked, shrugging off whatever moment of vulnerability you thought he might have been showing.

“Yeah, right. I think Dustin would shed tears.”

So that’s how it started. Small, almost insignificant interactions that led you to believe Steve Harrington wasn’t who you thought he was. You didn’t tell Dustin, you didn’t think there was much point. He’d find out if it went further, but your friendship with Steve consisted of English study sessions and occasional lifts home.

The first time Dustin caught you was about a month into your study sessions, right before your week off for spring break. Music blared through Steve’s speakers but you’d chosen the song — Jessie’s Girl. You’d warmed up to him now, it didn’t take convincing to let him drop you home.

You were both singing loudly, off-key but enthusiastic nonetheless, and you had to keep telling Steve off for getting distracted.

“Hands on the wheel!” You squealed with a giggle as Steve mimed the guitar solo, head banging wildly. He obliged with a wide grin, still dancing too wildly for the fancy leather seat of the BMW.

“Relax, Henderson, I’ll get you home nice and safe — where can I find a woman like that?” He cut himself off, and you winced at his singing.

Just as he said, Steve swung a turn up into your driveway, tires screeching with the velocity. You made a show of clutching the grab handle above the door until he rolled his eyes, calling you dramatic.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” You said as the car door slammed shut, waving another time as you unlocked the door to your home. Steve returned it, holding two fingers and a thumb up lazily over the steering wheel with a small smile before pulling out of your paved driveway.

You were smiling as you slipped inside, but it quickly faded when you saw Dustin, leaning over the couch to peer through the slotted blinds, clearly spying.

“What are you doing?” You snapped. Dustin jumped back, hands on his hips like your mother.

“Was that Steve Harrington?”

“No.”

“Why is Steve dropping you home?”

“So I don’t have to walk.” That was hardly true anymore. It was well into daylight savings and was hardly dark when you quit your study sessions, you and Steve were just becoming surprisingly fond of each other. Plus, you didn’t let Steve get distracted when you were working, so if he wanted to talk to you it was in the car.

“Are you fucking Steve Harrington?”

“No! Oh my god, Dustin, what is wrong with you?”

“Because yes he’s nice but he’s a total loser but also has slept with like a hundred girls and—”

“Dustin. I’m not sleeping with Steve.”

“Oh,” He sighed in relief, “Cool.”

God, he was annoying. You huffed, shoving past him off into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. Jesus. Was it so unbelievable that Steve Harrington might be friends with you? And could you even call him your friend if you were effectively just his English tutor? You weren’t sure.

The friendship became a friendship shortly after — sorry, Dustin. Your plans for spring break were to laze around, gorge on ice cream and finish a few novels before beginning the hard slog through finals.

That plan was thwarted when your mom poked her head around your bedroom door, making you look up from your book.

“Hon, there’s someone on the phone for you. A boy.” Her grin almost made you want it to be a suitor. You’d never had a boyfriend, and while your mom of course never minded, her hope was really quite embarrassing. Cautiously, you picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“What are you doing today?” Steve Harrington was on the other end of the phone, which was monumentally surprising.

“Uh, nothing, I guess.”

“Perfect! I’ll be at yours in half an hour,” Steve said cheerfully, like he was completely unaware of the effect he was having on you.

“Steve, what?” It was too late, the line already clicked like punctuation to your interrupted conversation. You lingered for a moment, stuck in place as you tried to figure out what was happening.

If Steve Harrington was coming to pick you up to do… something, then you really had to dress the part. Not fancy, or anything, but presentable. Worthy of his reputation, you supposed.

Half an hour later, a car horn made you jump from outside. Straightening out your light cardigan, you ran to the door, calling a quick goodbye to your mother. You didn’t miss the excitement brimming in her casual “Have fun!”

“What is this?” You asked as you slid into his passenger seat, which was more than familiar to you after a month or so of three-ish lifts a week. You brightened as you found a lip gloss you thought you’d lost in the door pocket.

“We can’t hang out?” Steve looked straight at you for a moment before putting the car in reverse, pulling out of your driveway again. You hated when he sounded like an ignored little kid.

“Of course we can,” You answered quickly, buckling your seatbelt, “I just didn’t think we were that close. I’m basically just your tutor.” What you thought might have been hurt flashed over Steve’s face, his fingers gripping the wheel tightly.

“I don’t think that,” He said quietly, “I thought we were hanging out coz, you know, I think you’re cool.” It was your turn to look at him with wide eyes, the confession coming completely unexpected.

“I think you’re cool, too, Steve. As much as it pains me to say it.”

It was like night and day, Steve’s entire disposition shifting when you validated him, going back to tapping along lightly to the music playing on the radio. You didn’t recognise the song, The Rolling Stones, maybe.

“So where are we going?” You asked after a while, trying to re-fasten the thin gold chain around your wrist.

“Thought we could go bowling.” You couldn’t contain the loud burst of laughter that escaped you, the utter randomness of the suggestion taking you completely by surprise.

You were still giggling halfway through the game, tummy sore as Steve showed off theatrically, sending the bowling ball tumbling into another party’s lane. He waved it off sheepishly, grateful it was a few sophomore girls who still believed in the myth of King Steve. Hands clutched across your stomach you were basically doubled over, a series of hideous laughs bouncing over the synth-heavy background music.

“Steve!” You yelled through a whisper, “People are staring!”

“So what? Let them watch, I’m a good view.” He tossed another ball down the lane, scoring a perfect strike. The absolute disbelief blooming on his face was almost childlike. A soft sensation hit your chest at the sight, completely different from the persona Steve displayed at school. He was just a boy, only just an adult, technically. You jumped up to celebrate with him, both of you laughing and high-fiving ecstatically.

The day wound down at a diner, relatively new since Benny passed. It was nice, though, quiet and homey with vinyl booths. Steve had ordered you both strawberry milkshakes, promising for them to be worth your while. You reluctantly agreed that they very much were, sipping with content.

“So how come you read Hamlet?” You asked through a mouthful of french-fry, forgetting momentarily it was bad manners.

“What do you mean,” Steve’s eyebrows knitted together, “It was assigned for this semester.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m pretty sure only like four people actually read it. I’m pretty sure Tammy Thompson watched the Laurence Olivier film and called it a day. Why’d you read it?” Steve was silent for a minute, thinking about his answer.

“I guess I’m tired of King Steve,” He replied finally, playing with the straw of his drink as he avoided eye contact, “I’m almost graduating and what do I have to show for it? I don’t like my friends anymore, broke up with my girlfriend, and didn’t get into a single college. I’m not unhappy with my life or anything, but if there was ever a wake-up call, I reckon I’ve had it. I thought I might as well try not to be stupid as well as everything else.”

“You didn’t get into college?” The question escaped you before you realised it was impolite, hand creeping over your mouth in shame.

“Not yet.” He was looking at you nervously, like he was scared you’d walk out on him.

“Oh,” You said simply, “What are you gonna do next year then? If you don’t end up going anywhere.”

Steve livened up the more he talked, your lack of judgement clearly fresh for him. In the back of your mind, you wondered who was making Steve feel so bad about himself. He told you about the original idea of working for his Dad, but you got the impression that they weren’t too close, and the goal had changed. You didn’t blame him; it wasn’t like you were the poster child for good paternal relationships either.

“You could always work with me.” You grinned, “I work a few nights a week at Enzo’s. We’d be good coworkers, right?” Steve smiled at you, soft and earnest under the fluoro light of the diner. Then, he said:

“Do you have to put on an Italian accent?” And the moment was shattered, easy banter back to the forefront of your conversation.

Steve dropped you home in the Beemer, cutting the engine in the quiet of dusk. You lingered in the passenger seat again, not wanting the day to end. You were about to say something, thank him for the fun outing, when your mother burst out the front door, two heavy trash bags in her hands.

Her expression lit up when she saw you both, hurrying to throw the trash out so she could approach the driver's side window. You covered your face with your hands, preparing for the worst. Steve, on the other hand, looked delighted.

“Hi, Mrs Henderson.” He grinned, putting on the oozing charm you’d seen hundreds of times at school. You could barely catch all the words spilling out of your mom’s mouth, no doubt perfectly curated to embarrass you. She was talented like that.

“I hear you’re pals with my Dusty, too. It’s so nice that you’re all friends.” She beamed, shooting you a look that was clearly impressed with Steve.

“You’ve got some special kids, Mrs Henderson,” Steve said nicely.

“You know, I was a bit worried about this one.” She gestured to you, “So clever but such a homebody. Honestly, I was just glad she was leaving the house, I didn’t care who it was with!” Steve and your mother laughed in tandem as your face burned hot — there was no reason for Steve to be privy to your loneliness. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Steve. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” She directed the last part at you with a wink, which only worsened your embarrassment.

With your front door closed again, you and Steve were bathed in quiet. Except, of course, for the laughter that bubbled out of him.

“Shut up,” You hit his arm, “I am so sorry about her. She clearly doesn’t get out enough.”

“Neither do you, by the sound of it.” You shot him a reproachful look. “I’m just saying! Sounds like it’s up to me to get you out of this house.”

The silence washed over you both, a strange tension blooming between you. For a single moment, when Steve looked at you with those eyes, you thought he might kiss you. It was the softness, maybe; Steve exuded vulnerability in a way that you’d never expected. It sent a shiver of fear up your spine and you started moving, breaking whatever spell the BMW had you under.

“Thanks for today, Steve. I actually had a lot of fun.” You climbed out of the seat, sparing him a lingering smile. He returned it freely.

“Yeah, me too, this was — what do you mean ‘actually’?” You giggled at his affronted tone, looking back from the front doorstep to send him off with a little wave, not bothering to answer.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, once you’d mostly fended off your mom’s endless questions and made it safely to your bedroom, that you heard Steve’s car start again and take off down the street. You wondered what he’d been doing.

You saw Steve four days that week. The picture house, the arcade, a walk around one of the many lakes in Hawkins. Not Lovers Lake, as you made sure to instruct him. Plus, one study session that you instigated so that Steve might actually feel on top of his English final.

Unfortunately, you’d come to like his company much more than you’d expected. Steve was funny as hell, which wasn’t necessarily surprising from someone who had a whole lot of friends, but it was nice to finally be the audience for it. As well as that, he was really nice. Like, incredibly kind. Never made you do anything you didn’t want to, always had snacks on hand when you were hungry. Steve joked once in passing that he was a good babysitter, and whilst you really didn’t want to think of Steve as your chaperone, he wasn’t wrong. There was something peculiarly maternal about Steve Harrington.

The only downside of all this hanging out? You were starting to develop a small (big) crush on him. Like, come on, Steve Harrington? How cliché. You could have picked someone more similar to you, quiet like Leo Miller, or a D&D nerd like Eddie Munson, but somehow it was Steve. Captain of the basketball team, ex-swim team participant, top of the senior social class. Jesus.

You weren’t gonna do anything about it, obviously. Steve had finals to focus on, and then he was graduating and would move on to something new. Why would he want a girlfriend still in high school? Assuming he even liked you back. Besides, you had your own things going on… like your novels.

If Dustin wasn’t completely offended by your frequent meetups with his cool older friend, he’d be fuming if he were in the Hawkins High School library on the evening in mid-May when everything changed.

During senior finals season, the librarians took on extra hours to keep the place open late into the night, and while many Hawkins students weren’t bothered to use the resource, you and Steve had basically made the place your home.

The table you both liked the most was tucked into a small alcove, behind the shelves and almost completely private. Occasionally, it had to get banned and filled with extraneous furniture because they kept catching students fucking in it, but they’d reupholstered the corner bench seat over winter break, and there weren’t any suspicious stains yet. Well, except for where Steve spilt his Coca Cola during a study session. Regardless, you knew Steve liked it because he got self-conscious studying around the general public, and you got nervous being seen with Steve.

So you were tucked into your little study nook, surrounded by snacks and papers and a fat copy of Hamlet between you. Steve ran a hand through his hair, a dramatic sigh leaving his lips.

“C’mon,” You teased, “Not tired yet, are you? The final’s tomorrow, this is it.”

“It’s like eight o’clock,” He groaned, “Can’t we take a break?”

You looked at him, trying to decipher if he was being genuine or just trying to get out of discussing character motivations in the play.

“Fine. Ten minutes.” Steve brightened immediately, pumping his fist. He slid out of the booth to stretch his limbs while you watched with a small smile, doodling tiny images in the margins of your composition book.

He flopped back into the booth, hair brushing against your arm.

“Good?” You looked down at him, trying not to show how flustered the simple touch made you.

“A few minutes more,” He pleaded, then changed the subject before you could deny him the break, “Are you gonna keep hanging out with me after finals?” Your mouth dropped open into a small ‘o’.

“I don’t see why not. Is this your way of getting rid of me?” A smile played on your lips, and Steve popped back up to vertical, offence written all over his face.

“No way! What? Do you not think I like you?” You burst into laughter, slapping a hand over your mouth when a roaming librarian gave you stink eye.

“I’m teasing you, Steve. Who wouldn’t like the person who helped you pass English?” Steve’s frustration wasn’t quelled — he was so easy to set off. One of the things you enjoyed about him.

“That’s not true! Jesus, there’s lots of things I like about you.” You were still feeling light-hearted and so made a ‘go ahead’ motion, testing to see how far you could push him. “You’re like super smart, obviously. It’s actually kinda crazy that your mom ended up with a crazy smart science kid and a class-topper in English. And you’re stupid funny when you let people hear, like, I can’t believe I missed out on it all year. I probably would have done better on The Great Gatsby paper. On top of all that, you’re pretty in the way that you don’t even know, like you’re totally unaware of the effect you have. Plus—”

“You think I’m pretty?” You didn’t mean to interrupt, but you’d never been told that before. Teachers told you all the time that you were smart, that you were a good writer; you saw it in your grades. You maybe weren’t perceived as funny, but you made your family laugh; it wasn’t something you were particularly worried about. But pretty? That was a whole different ballgame. Only people your age could call you pretty and have it matter; it just didn’t count when older relatives cooed it at Christmas.

“This is exactly what I mean! Obviously, you’re gorgeous, it’s not even contentious, and you have no idea,” Steve seemed to realise what he was saying in real time and shrank in on himself a little, “So, um. Yeah.”

“You think I’m pretty.” You beamed.

“Don’t get a big head about it, jeez.” Steve tried to play it cool but you could see him getting flustered. Instead of making you nervous, it made you strangely confident.

“Steve Harrington thinks I’m pretty,” You sighed dreamily, twirling your finger around one of your curls, “Should I run for prom queen after all?”

“Okay, I get it, I get it. Laugh it up. Anyway, Horatio, huh?” Steve rolled his eyes, trying to move on, but you wouldn’t let him. You were going at it, speaking at the same time as you mocked Steve whilst he desperately tried to change the subject.

“You’re so annoying.”

“I’m a real Molly Ringwald, you know? Everyone says so—”

Steve leant over where your bag sat between you, pressing his lips against yours. He lingered for a few seconds whilst your brain short-circuited, unable to do anything but sit there and take it. Steve pulled away just as quick, terror etched into his features from your inaction. It took you a second to recover, but you came back with a mission.

“All it took for you to kiss me was to be annoying? I can do that, you know, I —” Steve kissed you again, surer this time as he saw through your teasing. In the quiet of the library, he kissed you sweetly, hand moving up to cup your jaw, pulling you even closer.

You dropped the pen you’d been twirling with a soft clatter, instead deepening the kiss and threading your fingers through his hair, just as you’d dreamed about the night before. Steve’s hands felt huge on your face, completely encompassing your cheeks. It was perfect, entirely engrossing and all you were sure to think about for weeks.

He tried to go further, tongue swiping over your lip to ask for permission, but you pulled away instead, breathing heavy and erratic.

“Steve,” You whispered, breaths mingling as your foreheads rested against each other, “We can’t. We’re in public.”

“Don’t care,” He murmured, eyes closed as he captured your lips again, kissing you like you were his life source. You let him easily, returning it with equal fervour. It was probably lucky that the space between the table and the booth seat was only big enough for one body, because you wanted nothing more than to climb onto Steve’s lap, your entire body flushed red hot with desire.

Steve tried again, and you let him slide his tongue into your mouth, intertwining it with your own sloppily. You would never, not in a million years, have imagined you would be sucking faces with Steve Harrington in the high school library, but you had no plans of stopping.

It was only when the telltale click of the librarian’s heels clacked down towards you did you pull away, wiping your mouth hurriedly and pretending to be deep in thought over your paper. You couldn’t see Steve in your peripherals, but you assumed he didn’t have a very good poker face. A glance at him once the librarian passed proved correct, he was staring at you unashamedly, eyes still lidded with lust.

“Steve!” You told him off with a harsh whisper, “You have a final tomorrow.”

“You cannot be serious.” Steve sidled up beside you until your hips were pressed together, one big arm wrapping around your waist.

“Steve,” You sent him a look, dodging his attempt at a kiss despite your desire encouraging you otherwise, “You’ve worked hard on this. I’m not letting you throw away your final just because you’re horny. C’mon, we’ll do another hour and then the library’s closing anyway.”

Steve sighed dramatically but turned back to his own work, reviewing corrections you’d left on a practice paper. He didn’t last long, losing focus in a matter of minutes. First, it was just his hand drifting over toward yours, interlocking your pinkies as if you weren’t going to notice. You beamed down at your paper but didn’t say anything, knowing it would only distract Steve more.

He was satisfied for a few minutes before boredom struck again. Slowly, Steve leant over to you, pressing light kisses on your shoulder, moving up to your neck when you didn’t push him away. His teeth grazed a sensitive spot above your collarbone, making you shudder, and you called an end to it.

“Steve, I’m serious. We can’t do this here!” You swatted him like a cat.

The second the clock ticked over to nine, Steve was packing up his things, eager to get out of the library. You scoffed a little laugh, collecting your books much calmer, though you couldn’t deny the tingle of excitement bubbling in your stomach.

You both rushed through the library, for once, Steve not stopping to talk to everyone he knew. You couldn’t stop grinning, staring at the ground in an effort to make it less noticeable.

The air was fresh outside, a cool change coming with the night. The second the school doors shut behind you, Steve was all over you, grabbing your hand to pull you into him before kissing the daylights out of you. One of his arms wrapped securely around your waist whilst his other held the back of your head, keeping you locked into him. You had no qualms with the position, your own arms creeping up to connect around his neck.

You somehow managed to make it to Steve’s car — with a few interludes to sneak more kisses — but he didn’t unlock it, instead caging you in against the passenger side door. You giggled, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as you looked up at him coyly.

“Feeling good about the final?” Steve scoffed, clearly preoccupied.

“Feeling good about a lot of things.” He nudged your chin up, and you followed without question, finally giving him full access away from the danger of the library. Historically, you’d laughed at couples sucking each other’s faces off in the middle of the school parking lot, but there you were, letting Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington stick his tongue down your throat and grope your ass right there on the asphalt.

An involuntary moan escaped you, spilling out into the fresh air, and you came to your senses. You pushed Steve away by his chest, despite the fact that his neck craned to chase your mouth, addicted to your taste.

“Steve,” He kissed you again, “Steve. We’re in the parking lot.”

“Who cares,” He groaned, rubbing small circles into your hip over the fabric of your skirt, “No one’s watching us.”

“We have a final tomorrow! Don’t put all my hard work to waste now.” Steve looked at you for a long moment, then, deciding you weren’t joking, sighed and opened the car door for you. You grinned, treating him to another unexpected peck on the lips before sliding into the seat, pulling the door closed before Steve could distract you any further.

The drive home was quieter than usual, both of you strangely nervous after the overwhelming lust had somewhat levelled out. The radio played quietly, a new radio hit that you didn’t know the name of. You rambled about something that didn’t matter, how shitty your shift at Enzo’s was the other night, what you thought was going to be on the final.

Halfway through a tangent about the theme of action vs inaction in Hamlet, Steve rested his hand on your thigh. It was gentle, testing, and stole all the air from your lungs. When he noticed your stalling words, Steve lifted his hand to retract it, but you caught him first, silently affirming the action and letting him rest it back on the expanse of your thigh.

“Anyway, um, talking about Laertes as a foil to Hamlet could be a really smart move, especially because it’s so direct regarding their fathers’ deaths.” Your voice was shakier than normal, trying to pretend this wasn’t a monumental first. It felt like a teen rom-com, sitting in the popular boy’s fancy car with his hand on your thigh — not something you ever envisioned for yourself.

Steve chuckled and you knew he saw through you in an instant. Hawkins was a small town; he knew you’d never had a boyfriend, didn’t have much experience in anything, really. You were faithful to your novels and the few friends you did have, only attending a handful of parties across the almost three years of high school you’d completed.

Whilst you were scared of your feelings because of your inexperience, Steve was dealing with the opposite. On paper, you were very similar to Nancy Wheeler, which clearly hadn’t ended very well. But he liked you so much. Everything he’d said in the library was completely true, he liked your sense of humour and how you teased him, how smart you were and how you weren’t ashamed of it, and it definitely didn’t hurt that he thought you were completely gorgeous.

The car fell into a pocket of complete silence when Steve killed the engine. Nobody was ever up or moving around in Hawkins's suburbs after 9pm.

“Let me take you on a date,” Steve broke the silence, hand tense where it still sat on your leg.

“What?”

“I know I got a bit ahead of myself, and I’m sorry. I mean, I’m not sorry, actually, you’re a really good kisser.” You interrupted him with a bashful giggle, “But I want to do this right with you. Take you to dinner, hold your hand.”

You could feel your cheeks warming up, but you weren’t good at being romantic.

“Who knew Steve Harrington was more than library make-outs?” You teased, enjoying the way Steve opened his mouth to argue back before he clocked your tone.

“Yes or no?” He grumbled, performatively unlocking the car door for you.

“What about Friday at seven? I’ll even swap off my shift for you.” Steve gasped dramatically.

“No!”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that’s a big deal. I make the most tips by far on a Friday night.”

“I’ll have to make sure it’s worth your while, then.” You made a face that said you better, the moment of silence bringing back that heavy tension you experienced in the library, sparks zapping between you as Steve’s eyes flickered between your own and your lips.

Kissing Steve was exciting. In your limited experience with it, he poured everything he had into each and every kiss, practically devouring you. His hands were huge and warm and apparently obsessed with you, threading through your hair and wandering over your skin. He let out a million tiny, almost imperceptible little noises that communicated his pleasure, and you were quickly becoming addicted to them. It encouraged you to be brave despite your inexperience, nipping at Steve’s bottom lip. He rewarded you with a low moan, a nicer sound than any of the songs you’d ever sung along to on the radio together.

Then a light turned on inside. You wrenched yourself away despite Steve clearly not caring, straightening out your outfit.

“Okay, we’re not going any further until I at least have a girlfriend label, bucko,” You joked, pushing the car door open but making no move to leave.

“Desperate much?” Steve matched your energy, “I mean, did you really think I was gonna give it up at the first kiss?” You laughed loudly, rolling your eyes.

“My mistake, didn’t know I’d been crushing on the Virgin Mary.” Steve made the sign of the cross, smiling at you giddily. “Stop distracting me,” You finally got out of the car, “We both have a big day tomorrow.”

“Can I pick you up tomorrow morning?” Steve asked in a tone that sounded almost shy. You smiled, lips pursed together as you tried to control your lovesick gaze.

“I think that would be acceptable.”

You thought about kissing him again, just once more to fully memorise the feeling, but you caught a glimpse of Dustin peering through the slatted blinds and straightened out, taking another step away from Steve and toward the door.

“I’ll see you in the morning!” You called, unlocking the door without looking, “Dream of Hamlet!”

Dustin was waiting for you when you turned to head to bed, arms crossed.

“Dream of Hamlet!” He parroted, mocking dripping from the words.

“Shut up, Dustin.” You pushed past him toward your room, just wanting to lie in bed and replay the evening in your head until you drifted off to sleep.

“You and Steve hang out, like, all the time. Are you sure you’re not sleeping with him?”

“God, Dustin, you can’t just ask me that! I’m your sister!”

“And he was my friend first, so if you make things weird, you’re gonna totally fuck up the party!” You stared at him, eyebrows knitted together as you tried to understand him.

“The party? I thought that was you and the nerds — sorry,” You winced when Dustin shot you a look.

“Remember what I told you about magic and monsters?” You nodded slowly, unsure if you actually did, “Well, Steve killed like a shit-ton of them, and now he’s an honorary member of the party. Like Nancy and Johnathan.”

“Nancy and Jonathan?” You said incredulously, the image of your brother’s friends and them together completely unbelievable. “Am I the only sibling who didn’t get called in to fight monsters and shit?”

“Not the point,” Dustin huffed, soothing his tense brow with his fingers, “The point is, you can’t get involved with Steve because it’s dangerous and it’s weird and it’ll completely ruin my life if I have to choose between you, okay?”

God, that sounded serious.

“We’re just friends, Dustin.” Lie. Just friends who made out in the library. And the parking lot. And the car. And were going on a date on Friday. Dustin didn’t need to know that, though.

“Fine, good.” Your brother was already walking away, muttering something about the ridiculousness of the thought of you two together.

You did feel bad about lying to Dustin, you really did. All things considered, you were pretty close siblings, and if it were anyone else, you might’ve actually told him you’d scored a date, just to prove you did leave the house. Clearly, whatever happened over the winter really connected them, though, and Dustin clearly looked up to Steve. You understood that he didn’t want anything to happen to their friendship.

But who’s to say the date was going to lead to anything at all? Maybe the crush was out of convenience, of you two seeing each other almost daily. Maybe the make-out was just a consequence of finals stress and raging hormones. Maybe the date would fizzle out, and you would go back to truly just being friends with Steve Harrington.

So there was no need to tell Dustin yet, right? You would let him cool off a bit, see where things went with Steve, and then tell Dustin when everything felt surer. That sounded like a plan you could manage.

Things did not, in fact, fizzle out with Steve. Completely the opposite, really. You didn’t have a lot of experience in the dating department, but you were pretty sure it was a good sign when you and Steve didn’t run out of things to talk about for the hours you spent inside the tiny diner that was quickly becoming your spot. Or when you took a walk around town because neither of you wanted the night to end. Or when Steve asked you to be his girlfriend at the end of the night. He’d even told you then that even he’d never moved that fast with a relationship, that he wouldn’t dare use a label like ‘girlfriend’ until at least five dates in, when things were more established. Things were clearly different for you two, though; it all seemed so clear to you. When he’d asked, shy and bashful like a nervous kid, you’d launched yourself into his arms, giddy and gleeful as you nodded yes.

Things never calmed down. You didn’t think anyone would have pinned you to be the girl who got obsessed with her boyfriend, but you couldn’t get enough of Steve. You didn’t see each other every day for the rest of the semester, you both did unfortunately have other finals, but it was pretty close. You had to draw some lines in the sand, though; neither of you could be trusted to focus on a math textbook when you were lying side by side on his bed.

You still hadn’t told Dustin. In your head, you had a million reassurances for it. It was still fresh, it was just the honeymoon phase, there was no guarantee it would last. It just made more sense to keep it quiet for a little bit longer, just to be sure when you did tell him. Steve understood, but you also knew he wanted to tell his friend, so you kept a nearish deadline, something he could look forward to: the championship basketball game.

You sat on your hands on the second row of the bleachers, anxiety flowing through your body. For once, you regretted not having more school pride, you knew none of the rules of basketball. Obviously, the ball going through the net was good, but you could truly say you didn’t know very much more than that. Luckily, Dustin and his little friends liked Steve enough to show up, so Lucas was dividing you and them, whispering a running explanation.

The only downside to this was that Lucas was a smart kid. You cheered louder every time Steve scored, and covered your eyes every time he was knocked around. The first time you might have gotten away with it, but when it was every time, and only Steve, you could feel Lucas looking at you strangely. All you could do was shoot him a hopeless, floundering glance and pray he wasn’t going to spill the beans. He just smirked, and you knew he’d keep the secret at a price of many favours.

Steve tossed the ball through the net and the gym exploded, you along with them, cheering louder than you ever had. He turned to the Hawkins stands, bathing in the applause, but his eyes lingered just a moment longer on you. You beamed, eyes alight with excitement as you communicated telepathically across the gym, a moment of recuperation before he was back running up and down the court.

Hawkins lost, to absolutely nobody’s surprise. You honestly did not know if they’d ever won a championship, and wouldn’t be surprised if the answer was no. This year was remarkably close, though, and to losers that was pretty much the same thing. Hawkins High students flooded the court, you included.

It was pandemonium, students and bodies everywhere, pushing and shoving their way around, trying to get attention from the star players. Your eyes were only on one. You found him across the room, hardly paying attention to the gaggle of students fawning over him, craning his neck to search through the crowd. When you found each other, the connection was instant, navigating the crowds like fish in the sea.

Despite the people around you, you didn’t hesitate to launch into his arms, feet hovering above ground as Steve swung you around with strong arms. Your arms locked around his neck for stability, keeping them there when he gently set you down. The world could have been caving in around you, and you would not have noticed, entranced by Steve.

“Tough loss,” You said simply, playing with a rogue curl at the nape of his neck.

“There was no way we were gonna win.” Steve’s arms stayed tight around you, the student body weaving around you as he planted you safely on the court.

“Still. A valiant effort.” You smiled up at him, butterflies making their way up to your throat when he returned it. Sweat rested on Steve’s brow and he stank like a teenage boy, but you really didn’t mind as much as you should have.

You lifted yourself up onto your tiptoes to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss, appropriate for school grounds. Steve was greedy, always with you, so it was you who broke the kiss as well, teasing exasperation in your eyes.

“C’mon, you need a shower before you rub off on me. I already feel wet,” You grumbled in high spirits, loving the way that Steve laughed at you, eyes full of affection. He took one of your hands from behind his neck, using it to twirl you once then swung your hands between you, leading you to the gym doors.

Quietly, you realised the sheer publicity of your actions, head swivelling to look around the room. A few girls were staring at you, but you tried to just smile and keep moving. You knew Steve had hooked up with other girls, and being with him at all was bound to catch some eyes, but attention had never been your strong suit.

The only person who hadn’t seemed to have seen the display of affection was your little brother. It had pros and cons, you would probably rather die than have Dustin see you kiss someone, but it would have eliminated the need to actually tell him, too. Lucas saw it, giving you a knowing smile before ushering his friends out of the gym. You’d be doing him a lot of favours this summer, you thought.

Steve dropped half the kids home, which kind of foiled your plan of telling Dustin about you then. You still weren’t sure how he would react, and you weren’t risking that with fucking Mike Wheeler watching it all go down. So it was delayed again.

The next few weeks were a complete blur; the last few finals, a school dance, your boyfriend’s graduation, and Steve dragging you on more outings than you’d probably been on in the past year. And somewhere along the way, officially telling Dustin you were dating just… slipped under the radar. To be fair, you hadn’t even told your mom in fear of the embarrassing questions, so it all just lodged itself in a crevice of your mind that didn’t become relevant until you and Steve waved him off for his month-long nerd camp.

You were admittedly sombre, going to miss your little brother more than you wanted to. Consequences of having few friends, you guessed. So you squeezed him tight and sent him off in the car with a quick kiss to his temple, standing with Steve on the cement of your driveway as your mother drove off into the distance.

“Oh shit,” You said quietly, after a long moment of silence, “I don’t think he knows you’re my boyfriend.” Steve stared at the horizon, then you, then back to where you both imagined the car would be.

“No way,” He said finally, “I’ve talked about you when I hang out with him, he knows we went to prom together. Sure, he hasn’t seen us PDA, but he totally knows. He’s a smart kid.” You nodded, but you weren’t convinced.

you had fallen asleep on the couch again. it wasn’t even late, you just had that exciting of a life. you had no idea where your brother was, other than somewhere with steve and mike— that apparently gave you enough peace of mind to fall asleep while reading.

you jolted awake to the front door opening, oblivious to what time it was or momentarily, where you were.

“sorry he’s late.”

steve glanced to you with a slight pout, giving you those puppy dog eyes that told you he would undoubtedly make it up to you.

“careful, harrington. i think you’re becoming a bad influence on my brother.”

you stood to your feet and closed the book you had had in your lap as you fell asleep. dustin looked between the two of you, grinning until that point, “no he’s not! he’s really not—“

you narrowed your eyes at him, “you don’t know what a good influence is, dusty. you used to spend time with me and then you found cooler friends and now we’re dealing with…monsters and…missing kids.”

dustin shrugged, “he’s a good guy. really.” he was still trying desperately to sell you on him. the set up date had not worked and the attempts had become much less subtle. a few days ago, dustin had called you and asked you to pick him up from the movies. he had also called steve to come pick him up too. dustin was not at the movies and was very disappointed when you came home twenty minutes later, having not caved into going to a movie with steve since you were both there. it was fun, really. and all the extra time the kids spent going out of their way to make sure the two of you were alone made it so you could be alone. but of course, begrudgingly, sure to look irritated and inconvenienced.

you marched up to steve, sure to give him your most speculative, accusatory glare. you put a finger on his chest and pushed him against the wall. steve’s eyes widened, though his expression was very far from fear. “bring him home late again and i’ll kick your ass, harrington.” steve hesitated slightly, too distracted by how unbelievably turned on he was by you pushing him against the wall. you raised your eyebrows, biting back amusement.

“yes, ma’am. it won’t happen again.” he still flashed you a grin, something still very in character for him. you rolled your eyes and huffed.

“whoa, whoa—“ dustin pushed you away from steve, eyes wide, “don’t hurt steve. we don’t want to hurt steve—“ you narrowed your eyes and eyed him like maybe you did.

“goodnight, henderson. don’t get me in trouble next time.” steve saluted to dustin as you marched him out the front door.

dustin pouted slightly, frowning as you closed the door, cutting off steve’s casual ‘goodnight’. you scolded dustin to get to bed and waited exactly thirty seconds before pulling steve back through the front door and dragging his lips against you. steve smirked, arms snaking around you before he was fully in the house, “you should really push me against walls and threaten me more often—“

you shushed him, giving steve a scolding expression and a slight smirk, “don’t push it, harrington.” steve just pushed his lips against you again, still smirking, “oh, but i really want to…” you huffed, eyeing him sternly. it was useless, you knew. the more you scolded him, the darker his eyes got, the more dangerous the look turned. he hesitated only briefly, listening for a sign dustin or your mom were still away. silence, other than the cat eyeing you from the couch. “you won’t tell, will you, tews?” steve didn’t wait for an answer from the cat before backing you up against the wall and resuming what you had started.

“i don’t know if this plan’s going to work.”

dustin truly looked defeated, as he sat on his bed, poking at what his sister had told him was good for him.

“i told you it was a stupid plan. we have bigger things to worry about.”

“you’re just mad, lucas. until max came along, the thought of any girl or relationship was an inconvenience to you!” max eyed lucas with a questioning glare and mike got kicked swiftly by lucas.

“i just thought they would actually be prefect for each other. and i want both of them happy… plus it would be nice to have both of them in the same room without one of them getting shoved into a wall and threatened.”

“shoved into a wall and threatened?”

“freaky…” mike got whacked again, this time by dustin. “it’s not funny! steve’s the only one that i would let near her. he would actually treat her well and i think he’s smart enough not to get her pregnant.”

“dude—“

it had been endearing up until that point. you had gone to see if they wanted more snacks, ones that weren’t healthy, when you heard your and steve’s name in the same sentence.

how’s it going with them? mike had been genuinely concerned and you sighed. damn them and their ultimately good intentions.

steve leaned over the counter of you job, making it rather hard for you to price inventory and not lose count. “so you want to just tell them?” he was practically laying across the counter, just gazing at you adoringly, only half listening. “well, i— steve— just come behind the counter, you’re in the way.” steve did, looking like christmas came early. he sat against the wall behind you, now very appreciative of his new view. he wasn’t really supposed to be behind the counter, but the owner loved you and you had not yet resorted to making out on the clock, so he didn’t particularly care.

“i don’t know. they’re really stressing about this, steve. it’s actually really sweet.” steve took a break from watching you work to meet your expression, “we could just tell them. although i do really enjoy the sneaking around…” the sneaking in through your window, especially.

“i don’t know. they’re trying so hard to get us together. i don’t want them to think it was for nothing…”

steve sighed, now standing up, “but we are together… have been for six months.”

you glanced at him, knowing he was right and it was rather stupid. still… “dustin said he just wanted us happy. and he thought we would be perfect for each other. and that you were the only person that he would let near me.”

steve’s lip twitched up, “well he’s right. and has good taste.” he started mindlessly flipping through one of the books on the counter you had just finished adding to the inventory. “you want to make them think they put us together, don’t you?”

you bit your lip and smiled shyly, “maybe… i just think it would make dustin really happy.”

steve sighed, running his hand through his hair and closing the book, “fine. fine but i don’t want things to change between us. i don’t want the sneaking around to have been why things are so great.”

“steve. don’t be an idiot. you think i’m going to just let you go now that i can publicly let everyone know that i have steve harrington all to myself?” this made steve smile for the rest of the afternoon. and he didn’t even glare at the few boys that came in to just stare at you. he just stood there with his stupid smile, leaning against the counter, watching you work like he had just been given the key to the universe.

dustin was late coming home from school. steve was going to drive him home, but instead, he had taken his bike home. you opened the door, eyeing him in concern, “you rode your bike home? weren’t you supposed to get a ride?” you knew steve would never have forgotten about dustin. hell, you knew steve would pick dustin over you in a life or death situation— he would never forget to pick him up from school.

dustin dropped his backpack by the door and trudged over to the fridge, visibly defeated, “yeah, i guess you can kill him now. if you want. but it’s not his fault, i told him never mind.”

“why— what’s wrong? you love having steve pick you up.”

“yeah. but you don’t. so i told him you would get me…”

shit.

“dustin, i don’t hate steve—“ you had two very visible marks just below your neckline that showed how much you didn’t hate steve– “i just worry when you come home late and don’t tell me anything… and then my worry just kind of gets taken out on him.”

dustin shrugged and pulled the muffins you had made out of the fridge, “it’s okay. i don’t want to push him on you… i’ll just go see him at work and nights you aren’t home. or if you don’t want to pick me up one day.”

goddamnit. you were always home…

“dustin—“

he trudged into his room, slamming the door.

shit.

steve sighed again, “you’re sure this is the best way to do this? we really could have just told them.”

“steve harrington, i popped my tire and left it parked at work for this, do not try talking me out of it now.”

steve held his hands up innocently in surrender, smiling in amusement, “alright… whatever you say.” and he meant it. he would drive off a cliff if he thought that’s what you wanted.

dustin looked dumbfounded when he thought steve was picking him up instead of you, and when he realized you were in the car too.

“ummmm,” he looked between the two of you like you were ghosts, “am i in trouble? did something happen?”

“no…” you sighed, “my car has a flat and i wasn’t walking home. and i wasn’t making you walk home.”

dustin was still dumbstruck, mouth hanging open slightly, “so you called steve?”

“not like i have any other friends, dustin.”

“is steve your friend?”

“dustin—“

“don’t push her, man. she hasn’t threatened me today…”

“yet.” you turned to look at steve with a playful glare. he held his hands up innocently, “yet…”

but there had been something in the way you looked at each other— there- that dustin noticed. his scheme did not feel so hopeless and stupid anymore… his eyes lit up and neither of you missed the smile on his face.

“hey um-“ there it was, already, “mrs. byers is bringing will and the party to the arcade. can i go too?”

“yeah… of course.”

“okay! but she said will couldn’t stay unless we had a chaperone.”

uh huh.

“okay. i’ll just read in my usual spot.”

“no!” the abruptness in how he said it had you gaping in offense, “i mean yes! but steve too. she wants both of you there.”

uh huh…

“both of us?”

“yeah! you to keep us out of trouble and steve to protect us when we don’t listen and do get in trouble.”

you really needed to have a conversation with dustin about his lying and how convincing and thorough he was…

you sat across from steve, barely glancing up from your book. steve was next to you, looking bored but secretly grateful he got to sit so close to you in public. you would glance at him periodically, knowing dustin was watching you two more than his friends. poor kid, should have been having fun instead. steve nudged you, pointing pointlessly to the group that was watching you. you actually laughed; they weren’t being subtle at all.

you were sure to glance at him excessively, though that was something you would do willingly. “are you sure about this? i mean here—“ he stared at you with a smug smirk despite his casual tone so it would look like flirting. “absolutely.” you smirked back and steve had to remind himself that this was supposed to be fake and there were children watching.

dustin shuffled over, smiling innocently, “how’s it going?” steve scoffed and you sighed, “dustin—“

“i need quarters.”

you sighed again and started digging into your bag. dustin kicked at steve, however, who swore and jumped up. he dug into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a ziplock bag of quarters. dustin nudged you now, gesturing to the bag and to steve, his expression almost audible— isn’t that such a turn on that he carries a bag of quarters around for your baby brother at the arcade?

oh, and it was. it really really was…

you were staring at steve now, ignoring dustin’s small goodbye and forgetting the plan completely. he just had quarters always on standby for them? had he always done this? god he was perfect. steve, oblivious, turned to you with a soft smile. his expression turned to confusion at the look you were giving him.

“what?”

you bit your lip.

“the quarters? yeah, i just keep them on me if i know i’m seeing dustin. i know he likes the arcade. or vending machines—“

his eyes widened as you nearly jumped on top of him, lips crashing against him as if you weren’t in an arcade being studied by a group of freshman. the plan had been all but forgetten as steve pulled you closer, not going to be one to complain about pda— especially this kind.

the victorious, celebratory cheers faded quickly as the kiss turned into much more than it was supposed to. it was supposed to be one kiss, innocent and shy and with much less— really none at all— tongue.

you were breathless as you pulled away, eyeing steve like he had just given you the moon and stars. he was smirking, fading to a sheepish smile as the party approached.

oh.

“okay, what the hell was that?”

“what—? have you not been trying to—“

“that was not a first kiss!”

“that was not the shy, unsure kiss of two people realizing maybe they don’t hate each other!”

“there was tongue!”

shit…

well…

“your plan was really sweet. and it honestly might have worked on us! steve and i have been..together.. for six months. we just kept it a secret.”

the betrayed gasps, outcries and swears that burst from the kids is what made people finally turn your group into a spectacle. dustin and mike resorted to smacking steve and demanding why you hadn’t told them.

finally, beaming, dustin turned to you. he looked you over once before turning back to steve with a stern expression, less enthused now than he had been. the words out of his mouth really were just ironic.

“if you hurt her, i will kill you.”

*******

Robin would be the first one to know about it, and you were sure that she’d understand that there was no way that you and Steve could work side by side at The Squawk as sound techs/doing anything and everything else that was needed around the radio station anymore. You’d already come up with the perfect solution to that problem— he’d do mornings and lunch, you’d do late afternoons and the evening, and you two would alternate nights. 

You sipped on the strongest cup of coffee, using the harsh bitterness as a form of encouragement, before leaving your house and heading to the radio station. You promptly sighed when you saw Steve’s car already parked in the nonexistent parking lot; every bit of courage you had quickly dwindled down to nothing. 

The only good thing about him showing up before you was that it probably meant that he’d already told Robin about the break up, so you luckily wouldn’t have to be the one to say it.  

However, the universe apparently decided not to be on your side this morning because you were entirely wrong about that assumption. 

“There’s gonna be a crawl tonight,” was the first thing Steve said to you when you walked in, and you immediately knew what his words meant.

It would be stupid to bring up the break up and tell everyone now when all attention needed to be focused solely on the crawl. It was still a new thing to all of you; this would only be the sixth one, and a million things could go wrong. Therefore, you and Steve announcing your break up would be the epitome of terrible timing. 

And that also meant that you and he couldn’t act like anything was wrong or “off” between you two, which meant that you’d have to go through one more day of “being” in a relationship. 

Which triply meant that your plan of ignoring him forever was also entirely out of the window for the time being. 

Shit. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Even though there had only been five of them so far, your designated spot on crawl nights was the passenger seat of the WSQK van. With Steve in the driver's seat and Dustin in the back doing the actual complicated work. 

That set up was practically written in the nonexistent bylaws, so you knew that going against it would look weird, and you didn’t want to be the one to fuck with the “norm” and potentially throw everything else off too. 

You all needed this, and you needed it to work, so you were okay with sucking it up and forcing yourself to be in a car with your ex-boyfriend for a few hours. 

“Okay, I’ve tried to pretend that things don’t feel disgustingly weird in here, but I can’t do it any longer,” Dustin’s voice broke through the silence that had been prevailing in the van for the past thirty minutes. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

Steve sighed as he kept driving down the quiet street. “What are you talking about, Henderson?”

“Usually, I have to constantly yell at you guys to shut up up there so that I can concentrate on keeping track of Hopper, but this entire night you guys have been deathly quiet. What’s wrong?”

“Maybe your yelling finally got through to us?” Steve said, dodging the question at hand. 

“I wish I were that intimidating,” Dustin responded, obviously not believing Steve’s words. “Seriously, what’s up? Did you two get into an argument about who’s prettier, or who loves the other one more?”

It was almost comical how far off from the truth Dustin was, but it made sense why he’d think that you and Steve were in some silly or lighthearted argument, because that’s all they usually were.  

“We broke up last night,” You answered, not turning your eyes away from looking out the window and at the houses slowly passing by as you said the five words. 

“Weird joke.”

“Not a joke, Henderson,” Steve jumped in, and if he was surprised that you had just blurted it out like this, so abruptly when you could’ve just made something up or kept avoiding the question, he didn’t show it.  

“Oh,” Dustin mumbled. “Shit, what happened?”

“Enzo’s,” You answered first because you wanted to say something before Steve did.

Dustin let out a confused sound. “What?”

“It was about a dinner reservation,” You explained; it was barely an explanation, but it was pretty much the gist of what happened. 

“You guys broke up over a dinner reservation?”

“Yes,” You said simply, and then immediately heard Steve scoff under his breath. You looked at him, eyes narrowing. “What?”

“Nothing,” He shrugged. “If you wanna say that it was only about that, then sure, whatever, that’s fine.” 

“What would you say it was about then?”

“You being stubborn.” 

You rolled your eyes and let out your own scoff. “You’re insane.”

“Okay,” He said and then turned his attention solely back to the road. He didn’t fight you on your words, which annoyed you a lot more than if he had said something more. 

“Alright, none of what you guys just said helped me understand what happened between you two, so can you just do a play-by-play of what happened last night?” Dustin asked.

Steve let out an annoyed sigh. “Henderson, we’re broken up. That’s that. Why does the why and how of it all matter to you so much?”

“It matters because as a founding father of this relationship, I obviously don’t want to see it end,” He answered in a ‘duh’ tone, which made Steve immediately shake his head. 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you’re not the reason that we started dating?”

“Really? So, who’s the one that told you about the girl who worked at the bookstore and who I was certain that you’d immediately hit it off with?” Dustin said, and then didn’t hesitate to continue because the question was obviously rhetorical. “Yeah, that’s right, me!”

“I knew about her way before you got back from camp,” Steve told him. “The Waldenbooks was only two doors down from Scoops.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure you would’ve never actually talked to her if I hadn’t made us go there to get the Russian to English dictionary.” 

“Dude, I would’ve totally—”

“We should do it,” You interrupted Steve on whatever long winded tangent he was about to go on. “Let’s give him the play-by-play of what happened last night.”

Steve glanced at you. “You’re only siding with him because you wanna disagree with me.”

“Not true.” It was entirely true, and Steve knew that. It was why he gave you the most deadpanned look ever, and you only gave him a dry smile in response. 

“Maybe this could be like couples counseling. I’ll be your guys’ therapist right now,” Dustin said, which made you slightly regret siding with him because you didn’t really like the thought of this night being turned into 'therapy hour.'

“No way,” Steve quickly responded, taking a quick look back at the teen. “I already know you’re just going to agree with her no matter what, even though your loyalties should lie with me because I’ve known you longer.”

“I promise to be a completely unbiased party,” Dustin told him. “Now, someone start the story.” 

The long story short was that it had all been a stupid argument about nothing that actually felt like it was about everything, but neither you nor Steve were ready to admit that. 

“We were supposed to go on a date,” Steve started before you could even think about what to say first. “I planned the whole thing—”

“Wait, hold on. Turn left at the next street,” Dustin interrupted him mid-sentence. Steve made the turn, and then Dustin was quiet for a second, taking a moment to make sure that the signal was still strong and everything was still going to plan. “Okay, continue the story.”

He was damn good at multitasking.

“I showed up at her house at eight,” Steve continued. “And when she opened the door, she immediately rolled her eyes.”

“Ouch,” Dustin mumbled under his breath. 

“I could tell with the way you were dressed that we were going to Enzo’s and I hate Enzo’s,” You said, feeling the need to defend yourself.

“You’ve never said that.”

“Okay, well, I’ve never said I liked it.”

“You liked it just fine a year ago,” Steve said, and he didn’t give you any time to rebut his words before he kept going. “Just admit that you would’ve hated anywhere I wanted to take you.”

“Is that true?” Dustin asked. 

You sighed as you crossed your arms and let your head fall back against the headrest. “No, that’s not true at all.” 

Steve scoffed, and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was also rolling his eyes. “Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit.”

“Okay, so what about last week when I said we should go to the movies? Or the week before that, when I suggested just driving around and listening to music?” He asked and took a quick glance at you. “Do you also suddenly hate those things too?”

“Yes, Steve, I hate going to the movies, and I hate music, and I hate cars and driving. I hate everything, actually. Is that what you wanna hear?” The sarcasm was evident in your tone, and you looked at him only for a second before turning your gaze back to the window. 

He shook his head, clearly annoyed. “It’s impossible to talk to you.” 

“Ditto.”

“Are you guys sure you wanna break up?” Dustin jumped in. “You got the old married couple vibe down perfectly.”

“Shut up,” It was said in damn near perfect unison, which made you and Steve look at each other and then promptly look away. 

“I don’t think it's proper etiquette to verbally abuse your therapist,” Dustin said in a tone that was almost too Dustin-like. “Especially when he’s just trying to lighten the mood.”

“‘Lighten the mood’?” Steve responded, eyebrows furrowing. “Are you a therapist or a comedian?”

That got an abrupt, quiet laugh out of you that you immediately tried to cover with a cough. 

“Was that a laugh I just heard?” Dustin asked, not missing a beat. “It was at my expense, but I’m okay with that if it means we’re making progress.”

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but you refused to meet them. “Not a laugh, just a cough.”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve mumbled. 

“Okay, we never got a final answer to that last question, so let’s go back to it,” Dustin said. “Would you honestly have hated anywhere that Steve wanted to take you on this date?”

The short answer was genuinely no, but of course, there was more to it than that, and surprisingly enough, you actually wanted to be completely truthful. 

“It wasn’t about Enzo’s or the movies or any of it. It was about how you were doing everything. After all of that terrible shit happened last year, you started treating me like I was some delicate thing that would break at any given moment, and you started holding on so fucking tight, and that’s what I hated,” You said and then breathed out a sigh. “You just became so… clingy.”

The moment the word fell from your lips, you regretted it. You weren’t trying to hurt Steve, but even you could admit that was probably the worst thing you could say to him, and Dustin’s immediate surprised gasp only confirmed that. 

You looked at Steve, but his eyes were planted firmly on the road, and he didn’t say anything. It was too dark to read his face, and also too hard because you could only see half of it. 

The van became silent for a few moments, uncomfortably so, until Dustin told Steve to make another turn, and he did. 

You kept staring at him, willing him to meet your eyes. “I’m s—”

“Sure, yeah, maybe I became kinda clingy, but at least I cared about the relationship,” Steve started before you could finish. “You stopped caring after everything happened. And I know you’re hurting, but you never wanna talk about it— about your dad, about Eddie, about anything that happened last year. All you did was push me away when I was just trying to fix it.” 

You pretended that you didn’t feel so affected at his abrupt mention of your dad and Eddie. “And Enzo’s would just magically fix everything?”

“Obviously not, but I don’t know, I just wanted to do anything to help make you feel at least a little bit better,” He admitted softly.  

There was nothing that you felt like you could say to that. The fact that he said “wanted” in the past tense reminded you of what you two now were to each other. And for the first time since it happened, the thought of him not being yours and you not being his anymore actually saddened you, and it was impossible to push the feeling away. It mixed harshly with the annoyance and anger that this entire conversation had already brought out in you.  

Dustin broke the quiet. “Who initiated it?”

You turned back to look at him. “Initiated what?”

“The break up,” He elaborated, and for a second, you completely forgot that this whole thing was about you two explaining to him what happened. 

“She did,” Steve answered. 

You rolled your eyes at how irritated he sounded, as if it all had been entirely your doing. “Okay, yeah, I said the actual words, but you pretty much started it by first asking if there was any point to us being together anymore.”

Steve breathed out an annoyed sigh. “Was I even wrong to ask that when you basically just confirmed that you hated everything I was doing in our relationship?” 

“No, you weren’t wrong. Surprisingly enough, you were very right,” You told him, sarcasm clear in your tone. 

Dustin immediately took notice of the sharp energy shift. “Um, okay, I think we’re making the opposite of progress now, so maybe we should just—”

“Let me out here,” You interrupted him before he could finish whatever he was about to say.

Steve gave you a confused look. “What?” 

“Stop the van and let me out here,” You told him, meeting his eyes just for a second. “I wanna go home, but I’m not gonna fuck up the crawl by asking you to take me, so I’ll just walk.”

He shook his head at what he considered a terrible idea. “No way, your house is like twenty minutes away from here.”

“It’s fine. I don’t care,” You said with an exasperated huff. “I just cannot be in this car with you anymore.”

“Fine,” Steve responded and pulled over to the side of the road. 

“Thanks,” You said, giving him a dry smile before you got out of the van and slammed the passenger door behind you. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The three quick knocks against your bedroom window came around one in the morning, and you were certain that it was Steve. 

He was the only person who would come to your house this late, and the three knocks were his signature. There was a time when hearing the familiar quick taps would flood your stomach with giddy butterflies. Now you were only hit with something that felt melancholic because of how different things were.

You pulled back your curtain and saw him on your roof and at your window. You pushed it up a little. 

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure that you made it home okay,” He answered with a nonchalant shrug. “That you didn’t trip and fall on your walk and end up lying hurt in a ditch somewhere.”

That was exactly the way his mind worked, and at one point in time, it was the most endearing thing ever to you. It still kind of was. 

You pushed your window open further so that you could step out and join him on your roof instead of letting him in your room. “You don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to care.”

Steve gave you a look. “Two years of caring isn’t just gonna turn off in one day.”

He was right, but you refused to tell him that. 

“Everyone asked what happened to you when we made it back to The Squawk after the crawl,” He said as you two settled yourselves on a flatter part of the angled roof. “Dustin told them that you weren’t feeling well.”

You nodded at that. “Any big news to report from the crawl?”

“Nope. Same results as last time. No Vecna, no anything,” Steve answered with a quick shake of his head. “What were you doing here?”

“Putting together a box with all of your stuff that I have,” You told him. You’d been in the middle of folding his last t-shirt when he knocked on your window. “I’m not done yet, but I’ll probably have it for you tomorrow.”

“I haven’t even thought about that yet,” Steve said, which was a response that you expected because it hadn’t been the first thing on your mind either. You really only started doing it because you were angry. 

After your twenty-minute walk, your annoyance from the night still hadn’t worn off, and when you spotted a smiling picture of you and Steve taped up above your dresser— that had been there since the summer you met— you got the sudden urge to get rid of everything. 

You found an empty box in your garage and then started packing up his t-shirts and hoodies that you pretended you weren’t sad about having to part with, along with some movies that he had left at your house, and other random things that technically belonged to both of you but you’d rather he just have them. 

“Well, you need to think about it soon because I want my Queen tape back,” You said. “I’m also pretty sure I left my one red swimsuit at your house, and it would be nice to have that back too.”

Steve nodded at your words and then got quiet just for a second. “What about gifts?”

Instinctively, your hand went up to touch the necklace hanging from your neck, but it stopped short because you didn’t want Steve to see you do it. It didn’t cross your mind yet if you should give him back the necklace he gave you on your one year anniversary; it was silver and had a book pendant hanging from it, and you still considered it the best gift you’d ever gotten from someone. You rarely ever took it off, and you especially couldn’t imagine doing so now. 

“Gifts are… whatever you wanna do with them, I guess,” You ultimately answered. “You could definitely keep the Walkman I got you, if you want, but I will once again say that I want my Queen tape back.” 

Steve held his hands up in mock surrender. “Got it. You will get Sheer Heart Attack back, I promise.”

“Thank you.”

A comfortable quiet began to linger, and just for a moment, you felt as if you were back to how things used to be. After everything happened at the mall, you two spent a lot of time out here on your roof, staring up at the night sky and soaking up as much of the summer weather as you could. It was during those early stages where everything between you two was new and sweet, and it was hard to be apart from one another. And even when that “honeymoon phase” settled into something more real and deeper than either of you had initially expected, it all still felt so damn good. You missed that feeling; you missed it so much more than you wanted to admit. 

Just like caring wouldn’t magically go away after two years, neither would the love you had for him. 

“I’m sorry,” You abruptly said, breaking the silence and sighing into the cold air. “I’m sorry that I made you think that I stopped caring about us. Honestly, I cared so much that the thought of losing you too— just like my dad or just like Eddie— really fucking scared me, so I started pushing you away instead, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it until it was too late, and at that point it felt easier to just keep pushing instead of fixing things. And you didn’t deserve that. And I shouldn’t have called you clingy; you definitely didn’t deserve that either. That was really fucked up. I’m sorry.” 

That was probably the most honest you’d been in ages; to Steve, to anyone else, to yourself even. And it felt good, even as sad and depressing as your words were. Without all of that bottled up, you felt like you could breathe just a little bit easier. 

“You were kind of right, though,” Steve responded. You could feel his eyes on you, and you didn’t hesitate to meet his gaze. “I did become clingy. I was basically doing the same thing as you, but the opposite version. I was so scared of losing you that I held on way too fucking tight, and I didn’t even realize it until you called it out in the van.” 

It made sense; so much sense that you felt like you should’ve recognized that a lot earlier, but you had been so lost in your own head and ruining things in your own way that you hadn’t seen any of it. 

“So we both messed everything up because we were scared idiots,” You concluded, and Steve let out a quiet, almost sad laugh.

“I guess so,” He mumbled as he pushed a hand through his hair. “So, now what?”

Maybe this fully honest conversation about everything was what you two needed to move in the direction of actually fixing things; one conversation definitely wasn’t enough, but it was a good start. But also maybe none of it would be enough, and you couldn’t bear the thought of things being okay only for a little bit before having to just go through all of this again. 

Although breaking up last night had been a decision that was made in haste from both sides, it didn’t feel like something you should go back on now. 

“Tomorrow we’ll tell everyone we’re broken up, and we’ll also tell them that we’ll be able to coexist just fine,” You answered quietly, finally looking away from him.  

You almost said that you two could be friends, but the word wouldn’t fall from your lips. There was a part of you that would rather be nothing to him than have him go from being the most important person in your life to just a friend. 

You could also imagine the lines getting blurred way too easily; the break up was too fresh, and you couldn’t picture having a normal, friendly conversation about random nonsense with him anytime soon. 

In this moment, you were fine with going back to the plan that you’d decided on this morning— ignoring Steve as much as you could. 

“Okay,” Steve nodded at your previous words, and you weren’t sure why there was a part of you that thought he was going to argue them. 

“Okay.” 

Another beat of silence lingered for a moment.

“I should go,” He said, and you gave him a half-hearted nod in response. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you to see how I get off the roof because it probably won’t be graceful.”

That got a soft laugh out of you, and you covered your eyes with one hand. “I’ve already seen you be 'not-so-graceful' a bunch of times up here, but okay.” 

“It feels more embarrassing now that we’re not dating,” He told you, and you didn’t have time to say anything back, or really even process how him saying that for the first time made you feel, before you heard some movement next to you and then an awkward-sounding thud. 

“Bye.” 

You took your hand down from your eyes and saw Steve now standing on your front lawn and looking up at you. 

This wasn’t the last time that you’d ever see him or even the last time you’d ever talk to him, but somehow this moment did feel pretty monumental, somehow more monumental than what happened last night— this moment weirdly felt more finite, like the true ending to something that was technically already over.

You gave him a small smile that you hoped didn’t look as sad as it felt. “Bye.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

Tangled Necklaces | @babyrunsforfanfic

the four times steve harrington untangles your necklace for you, and the one time do it for him.

Dating Steve Harrington and Being Hopper’s Daughter | @kaylawritesfics

what it’s like to date steve and be jim hopper’s daughter

Steve dating a Henderson sister! | @/kaylawritesfics

Steve dating a Henderson sister | @/kaylawritesfics

steve harrington dating byers!reader | @/kaylawritesfics

Dating Steve Harrington and Being Dustin’s Sister | @/kaylawritesfics

III. WHATS YOUR PROBLEM? | @marleyin

S.H. x Hopper! Fem! Reader

Pda | @forever-rogue

Not kissing steve because Mike made a comment about how too much pda is gross and the poor guy is so confused and lost and desperate to kiss you and he asks you sadly whats wrong and tries to fix it.

Summer Party | @hellfireclubmember

no one thinks (y/n) henderson can have fun. she was hawkins’ good girl. she decides to try to let loose at a start of summer party, making her brother ask steve harrington to look out for her. something that proved to be a little harder than steve thought it would be.

henderson!reader

take me, so breathless (we could be reckless) | @huntingingoodwill

“let’s get married.” late night, whispered proposals, steve’s dream of having six daughters and general sappiness

Are You Going To Be An Overprotective Baby Brother? | @nerdywrites

Henderson!reader

Lovesick | @nostarfights

You, Steve and the rest of your friends go camping and by nighttime, you realize that you completely forgot to pack your sleeping bag.

Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist | @ahsokaismyqueen

Henderson!reader

lovers in the night | @mentally-gone002

steve sneaks into his girlfriends room at night in secret so that they can be together.

Henderson!reader

that everything feeling | @munsster

ou (Henderson!Reader) despise Steve Harrington, but the end of the world (and your little brother’s gang) has other plans for you.

don’t hate the game | @/munsster

The girls convince you to play an embarrassing party game from your past. It’s nothing like you remember.

fixer upper | @/munsster

The kids aren’t saying you can change him, per se. They’re only saying that love’s a force that’s powerful and strange.

sober thoughts | @/munsster

If drunk words are sober thoughts, Steve sure is talkative when he’s had a few.

how do i know it’s true?  | @l0vergirlwrites

to steve, nothing involving the upside down could surprise him after everything him & the gang have gone through. until you get taken by vecna—the worst thing steve has ever witnessed.

christmas affairs | @maroon-cardigan

your christmas turns into a chaotic mess when your boss can’t fly back home and you end up stuck in New York City with him.

all is calm | @rosewaterandivy

the first time, it was an accident. the second time? a coincidence. but the third time… well, unfortunately it’s a habit.

i’ll put us back together at heart | @sanguineterrain

It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

i never saw you coming and ill never be the same | @forevermoreharrington

Steve falls for a pretty girl in a coffee shop after she finds the cat he was supposed to be looking after

We're the best of friends | @/forevermoreharrington

operation: touch the hair | @singtotheskiies

meeting steve at scoops ahoy and catching his eye would go a lil smth like this

changed the game | @katsu28

steve would do anything for you, but he would never tell anyone why—until today

i don’t wanna be okay without you. | @xkxyla

Back together  | @watchmegetobsessed

You and Steve broke up not long ago, but watching over Max in the night brings the two of you back together.

maybe this christmas time  | @headkiss

working as an elf during the holidays (which he isn’t a fan of) is not how steve would choose to spend his time, neither is doing a bucket list of your creation. you end up changing his mind.

Imagine |  @ervotica

steve finds you after the battle with vecna. you confess to doing something stupid, and steve cuddles you stupid

losers and the supernatural | @luveline

Steve has a theory about Hawkins being divided into two subsets. You try to work out where you fit within that.

Steve harrington blurb | @/luveline

really shy quiet reader who sits behind the counter with Steve and Robin at family video, him always having his arm on her shoulder and whatno

𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 | @/luveline

steve likes you, eddie munson's best friend, to the point of heart palpitations. you feel the same way about him

Of light  | @/luveline

steve takes you to see the fireworks and has something important to tell you

bribery and a movie  | @/luveline

Steve wants a date with Max’s older sibling. You want Max to be happy. It doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking.

steve harrington with a golden retriever girlfriend headcanons | @/luveline

𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫? | @/luveline

steve finds out that falling in love can be really, really easy. you find out what it’s like when somebody wants to take care of you

accidentally wakes you up  | @/luveline

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | @/luveline

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore

pull me in the deep end, now | @iridescent-petrichor

days gone by | @sinfulserpents

six months after the events of starcourt mall, you can’t help but feel more distant from your friends than ever causing your brother to take some much need action.

steve harrington x henderson! reader

movie night | @heytherejulietx

what ensues when steve gives reader a key to his place

Cigarettes |  @junezsq

you hate the way cigarettes taste and when he finds out he decides that maybe it’s time to quit

Obsessed | @keerysfreckles

the five most recent times dustin henderson has been a "cockblock"

breaking the silence | @/keerysfreckles

time after time | @/keerysfreckles 

steve's longing glance to y/n makes him decide to stay at the hawkin's middle school snow ball.

Reunions |  @/keerysfreckles

during spring break of 86, y/n hopper flies back to hawkins indiana (dustin's request) and isn't surprised when dustin tells her the world might end again.

shy!reader x king steve | @lovebugism

sick!reader x king!steve |  @/lovebugism

king steve pays his lab partner a visit when he hears you're sick, but definitely not because he has a crush on you (shy!reader, friends to lovers)

the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret | @/lovebugism

Shy!reader | @/lovebugism

steve finds out the cute girl at the record store likes him and decides to bring her ice cream as a proclamation of love.

jealously, jealously | @/lovebugism

steve doesn't realize he's in love with you until he gets a glimpse of you with someone else

Bad kept secret by @weird-is-life

Your relationship with Steve is not as secret as you thought it was

Henderson!fem!reader

And I Would Do It Again by @spoodrm4n

In season 3, instead of Steve getting beaten by the Russian interrogators, it’s you. Steve and Robin are still drugged so they don’t notice your life threatening injury at first.

Henderson!fem!reader

But I Wouldn’t Let You pt 2 by @/spoodrm4n

You wake up in the hospital, having no memory of how you ended up there or the fall of Star Court. Steve comforts you and stays with you while you heal. You both end up having a heart to heart at the end of the day. Angst to fluff! Takes place at the end of season 3, leading into season 4.

Henderson!Reader

YOU’RE TOO DRUNK FOR THIS by @eufezco

IN WHICH you're too drunk to have that conversation.

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY  by @/eufezco

IN WHICH Steve has to face his feelings for you in the worst way possible.

VECNA'S CURSE |  @/eufezco

FEM!HARGROVE!READER

Next Best Thing to An Angel by @slashersteve

Reader has been cursed by Vecna, and the group has to work fast in order to find a way to rid her of it. There’s too many close calls, and just when they thought they had it figured out…it just might be too late.

Henderson!Reader

Stuck With Me | @/slashersteve

you and Steve have been through some tough shit, but it was always together. This time, it really seems like you’re going to die and Steve doesn’t want to die without telling you something first.

Some Kind of Disaster | @/slashersteve

Reader and Steve have been together for a few weeks now, and she runs into a person she had a fling with once. That person was Billy Hargrove, and it’s the first Steve’s hearing of this.

Ahoy There! | @/slashersteve

Steve keeps striking out with girls, and Robin is having a time about it. The score for the day is 0-5, and then you approach the counter and suddenly it becomes 1-5.

Let's Kiss | @/slashersteve

It might be the end of the world, and you're for some reason worried about having never been kissed. Steve decides to change that.

Five Tickets | @/slashersteve

Steve couldn’t pass up a chance to be able to kiss you, even if there is a price.

The Keg Stand | @jurassicbarnes-archives

In which you take a stand to protect your best friend’s reputation.

Eventually | @/jurassicbarnes-archives

In which you break up with Steve but a series of unfathomable events eventually lead up to you wanting him back.

A Vintage Love | @ladymercury8

Steve Harrington used to be your best-friend. Then he broke your heart. Then he became your kid brother's babysitter? And now you're chasing giant cat-eating lizards around Hawkins together.

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝟓𝟎/𝟓𝟎 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞 | @marvelsswansong

request where he’s dating Dustin’s sister since after the snow ball dance who’s away at college but she surprises him (and Dustin) by coming home for a long weekend cause she misses them

reader is Dustin’s older sister and Steve tries to convince Dustin to set them up | @skittlesfics

eyes on me, babe | @evescole

steve harrington knew you like the back of his hand - except for one thing: your biggest fear. when he’s kidnapped by the russians along with you and robin, he realizes he never wants to see you that afraid ever again.

Busted | @troubleluli

During summer Y/N Henderson and Steve Harrington start dating while Dustin was at the camp, they’re thinking about how to tell him when he runs into them and freaks out.

My girl | @judeswhore

you never expected your first time meeting steve’s parents to go so horrifically wrong 

11:11 | @/judeswhore

in an overwhelming moment of pent up insecurities, worry starts to creep up on you as you wonder if maybe you aren’t enough for steve anymore

tell me again | @/judeswhore 

steve was fully aware that his feelings for you went beyond “just friends” but the fear of ruining years of friendship kept him radio silent. however, a murderous wizard wreaking havoc around hawkins and a little bit of encouragement from his younger friends has him finally admitting the truth.

out of your league | @/judeswhore

steve’s friends refuse to believe his secret girlfriend is the pretty girl from the bakery and are more than a little surprised when you actually show up.

tell me that i'm all you want | @/judeswhore

everyone in hawkins knows about steve harrington’s somewhat infamous past and with your relationship being new and a little devil on your shoulder you start to worry if you’re simply just his next play thing

Blurb |  @loveshotzz

Thinking about Steve flirting with you at a party by comparing hand sizes.

Baby, No Attachment | @calumfmu

the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

The King's Reign | @/calumfmu

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

HOW TO FAKE IT | @munsonluhvr

In an attempt to cover up a lie and make his ex-gf jealous, Steve enlists you, his best friend, to fake date him

HOW TO FAKE IT 2 | @/munsonluhvr

the weekend trip to the cabin has arrived and Tina has an agenda planned to challenge you and Steve's 'relationship'.

HOW TO FAKE IT 3 | @/munsonluhvr

after the horribly complicated trip to the lake, you and Steve have a lot of making up to do

WHAT'S WRONG WITH BEING CONFIDENT? |  @/munsonluhvr

king!steve harrington x confident!reader. after setting his eyes on you in the cafeteria, steve, and all of his ego, pursues you; though you don't fall to your knees quite as easy as the other hawkins high girls.

Ladies dig it by @ashwhowrites

Date my sister | @/ashwhowrites

where I lay down | @captainmarvels

Steve has one year left to get you to talk to him, and he doesn’t realize how much he loves the game until you let him win.

a case of you | @/captainmarvels

When you catch Steve’s eye from across the mall, all he can think about is you. Will he garner up the courage to say hi, or will your flirtatious banter remain an unspoken thing?

home away from home | @/captainmarvels

When you and Dustin leave Steve alone for half the summer, he realizes just how much he loves his two favorite people.

welcome to the family | @steddielvr

You invite your boyfriend Steve over for dinner for the first time with your dad and younger sister. (Set between season 2 and 3)

Female!Hopper!Reader

Puppy eyes  | @iamamyy

Steve Harrington is hopelessly in love with Dustin’s older sister. And she is hopelessly in love with him too.

Henderson!fem!reader

POLAROID | @porcelaindoll-exe

Steve’s still trying to get used to the whole dating thing, but the fact that one of the only girls who genuinely caught his eye seemingly despises him, doesn’t really help.

Friends to Lovers  | @iliveiloveiwrite

Without you | @mads-weasley

After Steve is dragged into the Upside-Down, his girlfriend doesn’t hesitate diving in after him. She’s willing to do whatever it takes to get him back home to safety, including hiding her own injuries from the group.

back aches  | @peterparkergirlfriend1

reader has back aches and asks her best friend, Steve, for some help

Next week | @heartburriedinvenice

in which you just want to rent Back to the Future but every week it has already been rented and every time you come back to check Steve Harrington says it will be back… next week and for some reason, you still believe him.

[10:19] | @claireunoia