âtis the damn season
AUTUMN
chapter contents/warnings: exes to whatever the hell this is, a little bit of smut, angst, weed and alcohol use, mutual pining, steve is an idiot and is afraid of commitment </3, barely proofread (sowwy)
w/c: 5.3k
The first big frost of the season blankets the town of Hawkins when you arrive on Wednesday night, the bits of ice glittering on the orange and brown leaves making the barren streets seem less intimidating as you make your way through your hometown for the first time in months.Â
Thereâs a sense of anticipation and dread that fills your stomach while navigating the streets you know so well, knowing youâre going to be asked the same mundane questions about college in the big city a thousand times over during the next three weeks. You know thatâs not the only thing filling you with dread for the weeks to come, but keep telling yourself thatâs all you have to worry about â right?
The first evening you arrive in town is jam-packed, since your friends insisted on having a so-called âFriends-giving-masâ as the night that you arrived, due to your anticipated absence on the aforementioned Christmas. You spend a few hours with your mom and dad before leaving, enlisting your mom to help you make some cookies for the party, promising youâd leave her and your dad some behind.Â
The clock hits 7 p.m. and youâre finally finished getting ready, having just thrown on a red velvet, long sleeved dress that hit just above your knees and your best black boots, Robin had requested everyone to look their best so she could take photos with her new camera throughout the party. You grabbed your secret santa gift and jacket, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving your room.Â
âAlright, Iâm leaving.â you call out as you bound down the stairs and into the kitchen.
âDonât forget your cookies, sweetheart! Theyâre on the table.â she replied from her place next to your dad on the couch, watching some rom-com while he was dozing beside her, âif you need us to come pick you up, we will.â
You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that you were only walking to the next house over on the road, so picking you up would be ridiculous.Â
âOh, I think Iâll manage just fine.â you joke in return while grabbing the plate of cookies, âlove you guys!â
âââââââââ
The outside of the Harringtonâs house is gleefully lit with warm string lights, wreaths already adorning the front windows and main door to the house in anticipation of Christmas in a few weeks. You always admired the way their house looked during the holidays, but knew it was only a cheery facade to hide the dysfunction that lay within the halls of the residence.
You knew the family all too well, having grown up next to Steve your entire life. You were the same age as him, grew up attending all the same parties as him, but ran in completely different circles than him â well, up until your senior year of high school at least.Â
Long story short, being best friends with Robin led to you ultimately becoming so-called friends with Steve Harrington as well. The two of you had what you now called a stupid summer fling before you left for Chicago in August, but the rest was history. The two of you had agreed to stay civil and not let the remnants of any unresolved feelings come between your friendship and the rest of the friend group.
So here you were, knocking on Steve Harringtonâs front door on a random Wednesday in late November, cookies in hand as you stood there, shivering. You faintly hear Robin say that she would get the door, then hear footsteps pad towards the entrance.Â
Youâre greeted by your best friend with the strongest hug you swear youâve ever experienced, and you feel like you might not ever be let go if she has anything to say about it.
âOh my god! I missed you so much.â Robin exclaims, the widest grin on her face as she grabs for your hand, âeveryoneâs in here, weâre just waiting on Nance and Jonathan then weâll be ready to eat but come in! I have so much to tell you about everything you donât even knowââÂ
You follow behind her wordlessly, smiling to yourself as she rambles on about college applications and band and Vickie â who just so happened to be in the kitchen helping finish making the mashed potatoes so you had to be quiet â and everything that she can think to fit in a conversation to catch her best friend up on after months without. She leads you to the dining room after dropping off the cookies, where you hear two familiar voices having a very passionate conversation.Â
âIâm telling you, man, Iâm cursedââ
âYouâre not cursed, Harrington. Iâm telling you, youâre just looking in the wrong place for love.â Eddie retorts to his frustrated friend, rolling his eyes at him.
âOh yeah? And where should I be looking?â Steve snorts, haphazardly tossing forks, knives and spoons atop the napkin at each seat of the table.
âIâve been saying ever since what happened this summer, you should be going after â oh shit, Y/N!â Eddie interjects, cutting himself off when you trail in behind Robin.
The metalhead pulls you in for a bear hug, whispering in your ear about how he promises not to ask you boring questions about college like everyone else. As youâre being engulfed in his embrace, you hear the sound of silverware tumbling to the ground from the other side of the table, followed by a string of mumbled curse words from the dropper.
You pull away from Eddieâs hug to look at where the noise is coming from, only to see Steve fumbling with a fork and spoon while trying to stand up from where he was just kneeling. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, taking in everything about him that you told yourself you didnât miss. Eddie gives you a knowing look and you roll your eyes, knowing that heâs trying to tell you to not make things weird, so you try your best.
âStevie, how are you?â you call to him while walking around the table, putting on the best oblivious and excited face that you can.
âH-Hey, Y/N.â Steve says, feigning coolness as he pulls you in for a quick hug, nearly stumbling over his words when you use the nickname you always loved to tease him with, âI didnât know you were coming tonight.âÂ
His eyes flicker over to Robin momentarily, who shoots him a guilty grin before mouthing âsorryâ over your shoulder.
âYeah, it was kinda last minute on my part, I just so happened to be coming home tonight since my finals were all at the beginning of the week. I kinda forced Rob to tell me when it would be so I could crash it,â you lie, trying to throw the blame on yourself instead of her, âsorry if I messed anything up, I-Iâll lay low and wonât eat if that messes up numbers or somethingââ
âNo!â Steve rushes to retort, shaking his head at you adamantly, âI mean, shitâsorry. No, youâre not messing anything up at all, you know youâre always welcome here.âÂ
The smile on Steveâs face is genuine as he speaks, but thereâs a glint of sadness in his eyes while he scans yours for any sign of hesitancy. You give him a small smile in return, quickly moving your gaze from his to push down that sinking feeling in your chest you know is coming. Your chest aches as you focus your eyes downward, realizing that this night would be a lot harder than you had convinced yourself that it would be.Â
âWell!â Robin interjects, interrupting the growing awkward silence filling the air of the dining room where you stood. She reached for your hand while smiling over at you sympathetically, beginning to drag you towards the kitchen as she spoke, âgotta go say hello to everyone else before dinner!â
Your best friend whirled you around to the rest of the guestsâwhich was just Nancy, Jonathan, and Vickieâwho were all in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.Â
A slew of awkward questions about Chicago ensued in the moments leading up to and during dinner, but you took them in stride as they distracted you from the bright eyed boy across the table who kept sneaking glances in your direction any chance he got. You explained your major, what you did for work outside of class time, and talked about all the new friends you met in the short few months youâd been gone. You couldâve sworn Steveâs jaw clenched at the mention of a date you went on prior to leaving for break, but you didnât put too much thought into it.Â
Dinner goes by fairly quickly, and then itâs time for Secret Santa gifts in the living room. Robin begged everyone to participate, and even went through the effort of making sure you and Steve didnât get each other, partly to not ruin the surprise of you being here and partly to diminish any awkwardness that might arise from it.Â
You had drawn Jonathanâs name, so you gifted him a few rolls of different camera film. Each person had to guess who their Secret Santa was, but apparently your gift was pretty obvious since he hadnât been able to find any film like it anywhere near Hawkins, so he guessed you first.Â
Your turn rolled around and a small red gift bag was sat in your lap. You immediately knew who your gift was from, halfway from the grin plastered on his face and halfway from the smell lingering from inside the back in your hands.Â
âThank you, Eddie.â you giggle out while pulling out four perfectly rolled blunts from the gift bag, courtesy of the best dealer in Hawkins.
âItâs always a pleasure,â he jabs back, âwe can fire one up after presents if youâd like.âÂ
You nod quickly at him, grinning widely before turning back to the circle where Robin was handing out gifts.
âââââââââ
Itâs not long before drinks are flowing and laughter is spilling through the Harrington residence, something thatâs happened very few times within those halls. The night seems to go by too quickly, you notice how quickly when you check and it says 11 P.M. already, even though it feels like youâve only been there a few hours. Youâre sitting on the couch with Robin and Vickie, giggling their way through a story about some guy in the Hawkins band, when the sight of the back door sliding open and closed catches your eye.Â
You turn your gaze to see Steve stalking into the cold on his own, head turned down as he walks towards one of the ice-slicked pool chairs on the deck. A frown passes over your face as you furrow your brows, excusing yourself from the couple on the couch as you slip outside to follow him with your bottle of wine, one of your newly gifted blunts and a lighter in hand.Â
Itâs the last thing you should be doing tonight, really. You shouldnât be following Steve Harrington â the man who was too afraid to say he loved you and too afraid to commit to you â onto the porch. You shouldâve stayed inside and drank some more wine with the rest of them and let yourself cut loose for once, but you just couldnât do it. You just had to talk to him â you werenât so sure what you wanted to talk about, but you just felt the need to.
âYou alright?â was all you could slip out as you closed the sliding glass door, watching the brown haired boy from afar, making sure you werenât making the wrong decision.
âYeahâYeah, just needed a little bit of fresh air.â Steve stammered, eyes widening for only a moment when he notices that itâs you that followed him outside. Â
You only hum in response, stepping closer to him as you sense no annoyance or anger in his voice, finding a spot on the chilled pool chair next to his. After setting down the bottle of wine youâd been nursing throughout the night, you took the blunt youâd brought as a peace offering between your fingers and waved it in front of his face.
Steve looked up for a moment, gaze shifting between the blunt between your fingers and your lips that curled up into a mischievous yet friendly smirk. His own lips perked up in a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at you when you brought the blunt to your lips, followed by the lighter.
âWould you like to partake?â you joke while puffing smoke through your lips, mixing with the cold puffs of breath coming from Steveâs.Â
âIâll never say no to that,â he retorts, reaching to grab the blunt from your fingers.Â
Thereâs a breath of comfortable silence between the two of you as he inhales, then lets out a long exhale before focusing his gaze back onto the pool in front of him, onto the ice forming on the pool cover as a way to avoid your eyes.Â
âSo, howâs the Stevie Harrington been faring since Iâve been gone?â you joked after a moment more of the quiet, shoving any nerves down that were threatening to force you to run back inside.Â
Awful, utterly dull and extremely depressing, was what Steve wanted to say.Â
He wanted to tell you how he fucked up so badly, how he hasnât been the same since the last time he saw you, how he hasnât even been able to look at anyone without thinking of you. He wanted to grab you by the cheeks and pull you in for a kiss and never let go. He wanted to scream and tell you how much he regretted ever letting you leave without knowing how he really felt, but he couldnât now. It was too late, so he just said; âOh, yâknow. Iâve been fine. Just the same shit, different day.â
Steve wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame, something so uninteresting when the most interesting person in the world was sitting right in front of him.Â
âDoes âsame shit, different dayâ just mean youâre stuck being the same old chauffeur-babysitter youâve been for the last two years?â you tease, reaching down to grab the bottle of wine at your feet.Â
âYeah, I guess you could say that.â Steve chuckled, giving you a warm smile as he took another puff.Â
It only took a few moments to finally break the ice between the two of you, then things fell right back into place, right back into a comfortable normalcy. There was something that put you so at ease being outside with him, being able to talk to him without the looming thought of who would be the first to say âI love youâ or who would be the first to leave waving over both of your heads.Â
The next hour went by in a breeze, and it seemed the party inside died down by the time the two of you decided to walk back in. Steve closed the sliding glass door behind you two and you noticed only Eddie and Robin were left standing in the living room. Vickie was presumably in the guest bed, where Robin was about to head to. Jonathan and Nancy had left twenty minutes prior, only popping their heads out to say a quick goodbye before driving off.
Robin said a quick goodnight to you before heading up the stairs, along with a promise to see you tomorrow for a girlâs day. Then, it was just you, Eddie and Steve in the living room, Eddie at the couch setting up his bed for the night while the two of you stood in silence by the sliding glass door still.Â
âIâI guess I should probably head home for the night,â you say, breaking the silence between the three of you as you start towards your bag and coat on the other side of the room.
âWhy donât you just stay?â Steve interjects a little too loudly, the weed and wine in his system instilling some false confidence in him. âItâs so cold out and Iâm sure at this point your parents already think youâre staying anyways.â
You stop on your toes at Steveâs voice, cheeks heating at how interested he sounded in you staying there for the night. Itâs not like it was a far and dangerous walk, Steve just wanted an excuse to be around you for longer. You turn around to look at him, then to Eddie, who was giving you a tired smile.
âWe can have a sleepover on the couch,â Eddie chuckles, reaching for one of the pillows he was setting out for himself to move it to the other side of the couch for you.Â
âI donât have any clothes,â you suggest, looking down at your velvet dress that would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep in.Â
âOh, Iâm sure Stevie has some clothes that you can sleep in!â Eddie says, shooting a smirk in his direction.
âOâOf course I do, Iâm sure I still have your favorite pajama pants up there if you want them.â Steve says hurriedly, as if you would change your mind if he didnât answer quickly enough.
You give the two of them a smile, pretending to contemplate the decision for a moment before nodding. You couldâve sworn you heard Steve let out a breath of relief at your nod, but he turned towards the stairs before you could acknowledge it. Without a word, you follow right behind him up the stairs, slowly realizing the effects of the cherry wine and weed are coming to the surface.Â
Steve steps into his bedroom and you follow behind him, a situation the two of you knew all too well.Â
âââââââââ
You donât know what led to this, but there you were, in Steveâs bedroom, him towering over your space on his bed as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Tongue against teeth, hands against cheeks, legs tangled together, just like they were meant to be.Â
This wasnât supposed to happen, you swore to yourself you wouldnât come crawling back every time you were in town, but here you were.Â
Somehow coming upstairs for a stupid pair of pajamas led to Steve giving you that look of lust and utter desire, led to you becoming a willing participant in his games once again after swearing you would never touch him again, led to you letting him sneak his way into your heart â and pants â yet again.Â
Your head is spinning as he kisses you, his lips slotted into yours like they belonged there, a perfect fit. Youâre unsure if itâs the wine, the weed or the sheer yearning thatâs making you feel like this, but you donât want it to stop any time soon.Â
Thereâs a gnawing feeling in your stomach when Steve props his knee up on the bed next to your hip, you know you should stop before he gets any further, but the ache between your thighs is outweighing any thought of what would come after he spreads you open.Â
Steve groans into your mouth when you pull him closer, fingers intertwining with and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, and you only smirked against his lips in satisfaction. You knew everything about the boy who was turning to a puddle just from the touch of your fingers. You knew exactly how to make him tick, and him the same for you.
âFuck,â Steve breathes when he finally pulls away from you, full lips parted as he stares down at you. Thereâs a twinkle in his eye that you havenât seen in so long, one you used to mistake for love but now only know to be pure lust. âIâIâm sorry I just, I needâI need you.â
You stare at the desperate, doe-eyed man in front of you for a long moment, mind wandering to a place of fear as you think about what youâre about to do.Â
Instead of saying anything in reply, you close the space between the two of you once again, smashing your lips into his in a feverish and bruising kiss. Steve is on you in an instant, gently pushing you back and up on the bed, letting your head fall on his pillows. You can tell by the way he stumbles on his way up to you that heâs intoxicated â on the weed or the wine, or you, youâre not sure â but you soon realize that you are too.
A hand wanders toward the hem of Steveâs sweater, tugging at it quickly as he pulls away from the bruising kiss. He wastes no time in pulling the cable-knit up and over his head, tossing it to the side while sitting up on his knees to take you the sight of you in. Your skin was hot and your eyes were blown with lust, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you stared up at him.
Youâd only been under him for a minute and had completely folded to his touch. You cursed yourself for letting your inhibitions crumble so quickly, but another part of you didnât actually care, the same part of you that wanted to claim him as yours forever.Â
Steveâs eyes trailed over you, from your cheeks to the low neckline of your dress, over the curve of your hips, ending on your thighs spread on either side of his knees. The crushed velvet of your skirt bunched where your leg met your hip, letting the fabric ride up enough for Steve to see exactly what he was searching for.Â
He sucked in a breath at the sight of your white lace underwear beneath, having to hold himself back from diving in right that second.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he groaned, hands tracing over your hip bones while lowering his lips to yours once again.
A moan falls from your lips as his meet yours, his knee coming up between your thighs, creating friction against your core.
âFuckâStevie,â you say, choking back a pitiful whine while grinding against his thigh desperately, âplease, I need you.â
You swear you hear Steve nearly choke at your words, three words heâd been dying to hear from you for months.Â
âI know, I know, baby.â he coos at you, trying to keep his cool as he strains against his pants, âIâll take care of you.â
You nod feverishly as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck, taking his sweet time while trying not to get drunk off the scent of you.
âThisâThis doesnât mean anythâthis doesnât change anything,â he stammers between kisses, peering up at you as he speaks, âwe can still stay closeâkeep being friends after this.â
You hum in agreement, ignoring the dread building in your gut as you do. You want to be more than friends, you want to scream at him until he admits that he loves you too. But he nearly said it doesnât mean anything, so youâre convinced he wants nothing to do with you after tonight, nothing but a friend to laugh with and a pretty face to fuck on every break from college.Â
You push the thoughts from your mind, focusing on the boy in front of you as his hands begin to massage your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your core with every circle. Steve chuckles lowly as you let out a whine of anticipation, teasing you silently as he gives in to your desires.
Steve knows your body like he knows his own, so what comes after pulling off your dress is nearly second nature to him. One large hand trails to the waistband of your underwear while the other reaches for your breast, nipple peaked from the exposure to the cold air conditioning. You moan in surprise when he wastes no time in putting his mouth to work on your other nipple, tugging your underwear down your legs simultaneously.Â
His fingers immediately fall to your core once youâre free of the underwear, fingertips circling the bundle of nerves at the top as you let out another whimper.Â
His moves are careful but quick, he knows you want to waste no more time, and youâll whine about his teasing if he doesnât act soon.Â
Heâs out of his boxers in an instant, one hand keeping contact with your clit as he situates himself above you.
âYou look so good like this, sweetheart.â Steve says, voice low as his eyes raked over your body, âso pretty spread out for me, all fucked out for me even though Iâve barely touched you.â
âStevieâŠâ you whimper, reaching a hand up to him, but he pulls from your reach with a smirk across his face.
âTell me what you want from me,â he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek as he lines himself up with your slick, teasing the tip against you slowly.
âIâI need you, Steve.â you beg, cheeks flushing at the admittance, âI need you to fuck me, please.â
âWell, since you asked so nicely.â he retorts with a smirk, sliding into you with ease.
You both let out a low moan as he bottoms out, filling you in a way you havenât felt in a long time. You forgot how thick he was in the time youâd been gone, your body wasnât used to the stretch of his cock inside you, but it still felt like he was meant to be there. Like he was the only one who could make you feel this way.
And you were right, nobody could make you feel that way. Nobody else could touch you and make you fall apart in less than five minutes like he could. Nobody else could get you so riled up over a few praises thrown in with some condescension (which you embarrassingly loved too much) like he could. Nobody could hold off from cumming long enough to give you three orgasms before getting one of their own like he could.Â
Nobody did it like he could.
This doesnât mean anything you repeat in your mind, clinging to his arm like your life depended on it after the two of you calmed your breathing and cleaned up. You werenât sure if you were repeating those words to convince yourself or to ease your own mind about what just went down, but you knew they stung your heart more than any fighting words the two of you had ever exchanged.
âI missed this, cuddling with you, holdinâ you like this.â was all he slurred out against your hair, pressing a sleepy kiss into the crown of your head.
âYeah, me too.â you mumble in return, accepting the warmth of his embrace as sleep finally took you in, ignoring the gnawing pain growing in your chest.
âââââââââ
The spice of Steveâs cologne mixes with the familiar scent of his room, filling your senses when you wake, nearly sending you into a panic. You sit upright in the bed, turning to face the boy you claimed you wanted nothing to do with romantically just a few hours ago. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to you, plush lips parted and brows furrowed as he subconsciously pouts about the loss of your touch. The alarm clock behind him read 2:03 A.M., meaning you hadnât been out for too long, but long enough to sober you up somehow.Â
Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta get out of here. Is all you can think as you stumble out from under the comforter, knowing you would never live it down if anyone found youâd slept in his bed, especially with your limbs entangled like they just were. You quickly dress in the clothes youâd originally come into the bedroom to fetch, and snuck out of the bedroom without a sound.Â
Before making it to the living room, you turned toward the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of water. What you werenât expecting to be faced with in the kitchen was Eddie, but there he was, leaning against the counter with disheveled hair that probably mirrored your own.Â
âWhat a night so far, huh?â he jokes as you shoot him a knowing glare while trudging across the tiled floor.Â
âDonât even start with me, Munson.â you warn, absentmindedly reaching your hand up to the cabinet for a glass while shaking your head.
âWoah, donât get that attitude with me! I didnât say anything,â he laughs, setting his own glass into the sink, âbut that also doesnât mean I didnât hear anything.â
âYou did not,â you snap back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he gives you a shit-eating grin, âthereâs no way you heard anything because nothing happened.â
âYouâve always been such a bad liar, Y/N.â Eddie laughs, stepping out of the kitchen to walk towards the living room where the two of you would be sleeping.Â
A sigh escapes your lips when Eddie leaves, letting you be alone with your thoughts finally. There was an ache in your chest that wasnât going away any time soon, and it was in that moment that you wondered if you would ever be able to get over Steve Harrington, or if you would be in a continuous cycle of hurt and comfort for the rest of your damned life.
You collected your thoughts as you downed a glass of water, throwing back two ibuprofens with the last chug for good measure, before finding your way back to the living room. Eddie was on his side on the long side of the L-shaped couch, leaving the shorter side for you to sleep on. His eyes were closed as you laid down with your feet next to his own, but you knew he wasnât asleep yet.Â
âI wonât tell anyone, I promise.â you heard through the darkness after turning off the table lamp once you were settled.
âI know.â you sigh in return, staring up at the ceiling that was only lit by the streetlights flowing in from outside. âI just donât want to live like this forever, IâI canât keep being the secret that Steve is too embarrassed to talk about.â
âHeâs not embarrassed of you,â Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear, âheâs just afraid of fucking everything up even more than he already has.â
If only he could say that to my face, then maybe Iâd believe it, you thought to yourself, chest tightening at just the thought of the brown-eyed boy who was fast asleep upstairs.Â
You donât reply to Eddie, unsure of what to say back, unsure of what you could squeak out without breaking down.Â
âGoodnight, Eds,â is all you say in return, though you know you wonât be getting any sleep.Â
âGoodnight, Y/N.â
âââââââââ
After falling asleep for all of fifty minutes around 5 in the morning, you decided you had to leave.Â
The entirety of the almost four hours you laid on Steveâs couch consisted of staring at the ceiling and fighting off tears while thinking about how you regretted everything you said and did over the last twelve hours.Â
Coming to the Harrington house was a mistake, even stepping foot back in Hawkins was feeling like a mistake at this point.Â
The only words repeating in your mind were This doesnât mean anything. This doesnât mean anything. This doesnât mean anything.
You eventually had enough of the self-loathing and inability to sleep, so it was time to go. It was time to hastily change out of the pajamas that smelled too much like the boy you loved too hard, and time to go collapse in your own bed. There was no telling if youâd actually fall asleep once you made it there, but that was beside the point.
It was when you finally made it back to your parentâs house, to your childhood bedroom, that you swore that you wouldnât see Steve Harrington again for the rest of Thanksgiving break, and hopefully would avoid seeing him again for a long while, for the sake of saving yourself from another heartbreak.
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tags: @carinacassiopeiae
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Love You to Death
-> Summary: Youâve always loved Eddie. His flings were never meant to last, he was yours. And when he met Chrissy Cunningham, you knew that it wasnât going to last long either. Or, thatâs what you thought â but then you got the invitation, and you werenât so surprised when the first petal of a flower tore through your clenched lips, covered in blood.
-> Rating: 18+
-> Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader, Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham
-> WC: 5.8k
-> Warnings: angstangstangst with a side dish of angst, dead dove do not eat, light smut in the forms of fingering, kissing, voyeurism, hanahaki au!, major character death, death, flowers suffocating, kid playground romance (they promise to marry when they're older but obviously itâs not real) , r is suicidal at one part, talks of surgery, failed surgery, marriage, talks of memory loss, weight loss, heartbreak, not eating, eddie is a fuckboy and a dick, hiding a chronic illness, somber tones all around, hallucinations, weed mention, no upside down, no use of y/n, everyone is 24+, mdni
-> Notes: this, I just, I love this fic. i poured my soul into it and altho eddie actually isn't in it like often(?) i hope yall still enjoy. Iâve always loved hanahaki aus, and I wanted to try my hand at it. This is a sweet lil oneshot, well not sweet but it is pretty short, hope thatâs okay. Like I said, this is really sad, so please heed the warnings. Take care of yourselves! Let me know if you enjoyed! not proofread
Youâve known Eddie Munson for a long time.Â
When you both were two, your mother met his uncle, and they became fast friends â which meant that you also became friends.Â
In childhood, it was easy to be his friend.Â
In teen years, it became much harder, as you quickly noticed that he grew into his vibrant personality.Â
And now, in early adulthood, it was downright hard to just be friends. No longer was Eddie a fumbling and awkward teen, he was confident and knew he was good looking. Women flocked to him in droves, ignoring the label of a Satan Worshiper they stuck to him like glue in the high school days.Â
In some ways, it was still easy to be his friend and be in love with him as well. Because he was such a womanizer, you never thought he would leave you and find the one.Â
Truth be told, youâve always been in love with the Munson boy, and as foolish as it was, you thought in some way he reciprocated. Why else would he never date anyone if he was in love with you?
And when he met Chrissy Cunningham, you knew that it wasnât going to last long. Or, thatâs what you thought â but then you got the invitation, and you werenât so surprised when the first petal of a flower tore through your clenched lips, covered in blood.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1988Â
The first time you met Eddie Munson was almost twenty-one years ago, when you both were toddlers who didnât know that the friendship youâd make would both destroy you.Â
You listen intently as Eddie regales you with his latest conquest, Heather Holloway. Said woman was a co-worker at Family Video, along with Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington.Â
You had always liked Heather, as prissy as she was she was always nice to you. But something sours low in your belly at the thought of someone like her getting with Eddie. Eddie was the Freak of the town, the Satan Worshiper, the metal head who never knew when to shut up â and people like Heather were the ones who gave him, and by association you, the nickname. Even if Heather had never actually propagated the name.Â
ââ she always told me she hated me, but guess she didnât hate me too much if she was begging for my coâ,â Eddie ends, and you canât handle it anymore. You donât want to be thinking of his cock, which you know is pierced with a Prince Albert. That little tidbit had never left your imagination when he told you he had gotten it for his nineteenth, and it was the subject of many fantasies of yours.Â
âEddie! I do not want to hear about your dick!âÂ
Your face is burning, and you shift your eyes away from the smirking man. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, leaning closer to you with a sultry smirk on his lips. You get a whiff of his cheap cologne that he always wears. A knockoff of some name brand, it smells woodsy and earthy. You love it.Â
âWhy, will it keep you up at night, doll?âÂ
More than you know, you think.Â
When heâs flirting, he always calls you a doll â and heâs right. Youâll always be his doll to play and toy with, no matter how much it destroys you.Â
âYou wish,â you say with a grin, and he falls back against the couch in a fit of giggles. He flirts with you, but never takes it further. Eddie will never know that him laughing at the idea of you two together breaks your heart. One day, youâre not sure if there will be anything thatâll heal the cracks and fissures in it.Â
Hope that heâll be yours, truly be yours, might not be enough one day.Â
âWeâre still on for Friday, right?â You change the subject, a wistful note in your voice. Fridays have always been Eddie and your days. Nothing has ever come between them. You both have it off work, and so the two of you have a horror movie and weed sesh. Itâs sacred at this point.
Eddie nods fast, long curls bouncing at the action. Heâs got a little stubble since high school that he keeps trim, and a hell of a lot more tattoos. Youâve gone with him to each one â even the one when he got freakish devil tattooed across his left asscheek. Yet another thing worshiped in your fantasies.Â
Simply put, heâs gorgeous. If he was handsome in high school, heâs the statue of David in adulthood.Â
ââCourse, Iâd never miss that. Hanginâ with my best girl? Nothing could keep me from it,â he says, slinging an arm around the back of the couch where you sit. His fingertips dance on your bare shoulder, gooseflesh erupting from the touch. You lean into him, smiling.Â
But your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and itâs a struggle to stop the wince from wracking through your body.Â
In the back of your mind, you canât help but think that Eddie Munson will be the death of you.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
You grip the white card tight, nails digging into the paper.Â
Weâre getting married!Â
Join Chrissy Cunningham & Eddie Munson on July 4th,1989 at the Hawkins Community Center
Droplets fall onto the card, staining the perfect picture of Chrissy and Eddie kissing above the words. You hiccup, full body sobs crashing through your body as you fall to the ground in your kitchen. When Chrissy and Eddie first got together, you didnât think anything of it. Eddie âdatesâ a new woman or man each week, so you knew he would come back to you after that first night. But he never did, going on more and more dates with the ex-cheerleader. And soon he had told you they were dating, but you thought⊠you thought and thought and thought, never doing much of anything.
Maybe, if you had told him how you felt sooner and reminded him of all the promises he gave, none of this would have happened. Maybe if your mother had never met his uncle you wouldnât have met him. Maybe if he wasnât so goofy, and funny, and handsome, you wouldnât have fallen in love with him. Maybe if he had believed in love before Chrissy, he would be yours. Maybe, maybe, maybe. What good are they? Youâre broken into fractures, and you donât think anything will be able to help anymore.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1988Â
Eddie isnât going to show.Â
Youâre sitting on your couch, blankets strewn on the floor in preparation, and snacks and movies laying atop. Youâve been waiting for four hours now, since seven oâclock, the time Eddie always arrives for Friday night.Â
But itâs eleven now, and youâve heard nothing from him. Absolute radio silence, which is unlike Eddie. Even when heâs on his dates with women and men, he always calls you from his landline right after. And they never last this long. And never on your Friday nights.Â
Unbidden, tears snake down your cheeks and you bite your lip. The TV has been crackling with static for just as long as youâve been waiting for him, waiting to play one of your favorite movies. You stare in the static, fingers clenched tight together. Maybe, if you welcome the pain youâll feel something other than sorrow.Â
The clock chimes twelve an hour later, and youâre still staring at the static.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Maybe, if you hadnât accepted his rushed apology and explanation after that first Friday, the first Friday he ever missed, you could have persuaded him to not see the mysterious woman again.Â
But how could you ever do that to Eddie?Â
How could you keep him â and her â from each other, when he had such life to him you hadnât seen since ever?Â
How would you sleep at night, knowing you had persuaded him from choosing you over someone else, when you longed for him to choose you on his own. And if he couldnât do that, then why did you want him in the first place?Â
It was that night, alone and crying on your couch with nothing but the static from the TV that you realized something other than heartbreak was wrong with you. The way your heart stopped momentarily before beating erratically, the way your lungs seized for but a millisecond, that wasnât normal. But you didnât know back then how serious it was going to become.Â
Now, when your lungs seize and you let out a cough, almost dropping the offending card still clutched in your hands, you know itâs a message of something more significant. Just like that night, however, you welcome the pain as something tears and pricks and erupts from your mouth to land on the floor. You peer down, cheeks becoming wan in appearance at what you see.Â
A lonesome yellow petal, stained with crimson blood.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1988
âSweets, Iâm so sorry! I didnât mean to miss yesterday, just, fuck⊠I met this girl and â no donât give me that look!â Eddie whines, big chocolate eyes pleading with you. For the last five minutes heâs been apologizing for missing Friday.Â
Your heart still aches from last night â you didnât get much sleep, bags line under your eyes, and your lungs are hurting for some unknown reason.Â
You bite your lip hard at his words, blood trickling into your mouth. He met someone?Â
That doesnât bother you, he meets women all the time, but⊠heâs never ditched you for one of his conquests. Something feels different about this mysterious woman, but you donât feel like delving into that right now.Â
Eddie is here, with you, right where heâs meant to be.Â
Heâll always be mine, you think.Â
So you smile after licking the blood from your lips, and extend your arms to give him a hug. You breathe his scent in deeply as he envelopes you, ignoring the way they tighten.
âItâs okay, Eds, I forgive you,â you mumble into his shoulder, opening your eyes and turning to look at the side of his neck. Itâs marred with a purple bruise â a hickey. Your brows furrow. In all your years, you know Eddie has never let a lover mark him.Â
You try and think nothing of it, and focus on the steady breathing of him. He releases you far too soon, a sheepish smile on his face. He strokes the side of your face, leans his forehead against yours, and whispers something that makes your heart stop.Â
âI love you, you know?âÂ
Then why does your love hurt so bad?Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Yes, you think, that was the thing that ruined everything and pushed you deeper into disrepair. Accepting his apology time and time again after that chilly Saturday morning.Â
After, Eddie never made it a single time to your special Friday nights. He always had an excuse, âwork held me upâ â he doesnât work Friday and never has, âWayne needed help with somethingâ â Wayne would rather drop dead than interrupt your Fridays together. Until finally, he didnât have excuses and told you the truth.Â
âI have a girlfriend,â he had said, a giant smile on his face and cheeks a cherubic red.Â
You had never made him smile like that.Â
Perhaps that was it.Â
You were simply jealous that his flings and this girlfriend got to see a side of him you never would, make him feel things you never could.Â
But it wasnât that simple, and never would be.Â
As you stare at the wedding invite, you run your finger over his face â captured perfectly in a still image. His lips are meshed with hers, unruly hair tied back in a bun. You canât count on one hand the amount of times you begged to do his hair for him.Â
You flick your eyes to the lonesome petal on the ground, bending at the waist to pick it up and bring to eye level. You twirl it, lip curled in disgust at the spittle and blood that entomb the delicate thing.Â
You know you should be panicking, after all, who the hell throws up flowers?Â
But it seems like a fitting pain, to your delicate love for a man that grew, from a weed to a blooming rose, just, without you.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1988
Today, youâll be meeting Eddieâs first girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham.Â
You twiddle with a frayed string on your top, looking around the park for any sign of your metal head and this woman. You donât have to look long, because your eyes immediately hone in on them walking hand in hand down the sidewalk before they breach the park parameters.Â
They look gorgeous together, you think.Â
Where heâs rough, curly hair sprawling down his back and covered in tattoos, Chrissy is feather soft and glossy lips and straight hair. Theyâre polar opposites, but even from here it seems they have a glow to them.Â
Theyâre souls intertwine perfectly.Â
âHey!â Eddie calls, and you smile teeth and all at him, even though you can feel a deep crack begin in the middle of your heart.Â
âThis is Chrissy! Chrissy, this is my best friend,â he says your name, and Chrissy gives a megawatt smile before extending her hand. You grasp it in a weak handshake, almost worried that youâll tarnish her perfect skin somehow.Â
âEddieâs told me a lot about you,â Chrissy says, tugging Eddie to the bench that youâre seated at. She sits beside you, and Eddie sits on the other side. Their hands find their way to each other, mocking you. You shouldnât feel hate for the woman, and you should feel happy that Eddie has finally found someone to change his playboy ways, but youâre bitter. It feels like a kick in the face.Â
As you watch Chrissy suck up Eddieâs attention, a beautiful smile on his face, you decide you quite hate the woman.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Two weeks later, you havenât been outside your apartment.Â
Eddie hasnât called in the same amount of time, too busy with his imminent wedding you finally know about.Â
Youâre staring up at your ceiling on your bed, dried blood stained on your lips that havenât seen a drop of water in two days. Your hair is wild, yellow flower petals bespeckled with blood surrounding the crown of your head like a deathly halo.Â
You think the flowers are yellow tulips, unrequited love.Â
You havenât showered for days, whatâs the point? The man you love is soon to be married to the love of his life â someone that isnât you.Â
Not only that, but youâre dying.Â
You know that now.Â
These beautiful petals arenât for show, theyâre killing you. Rotting inside your lungs and esophagus and suffocating you before they end you. You arenât sure how long you have.Â
You slowly blink up at the ceiling, barely moving when you hear frantic knocks at your front door. You donât move when whoever it is breaks through. Nor do you move when Robinâs big eyes are suddenly hovering over you. You just continue staring at that same spot on the ceiling. Has it always been there?Â
And is it just you, or is the stain in the shape of two people intimately embracing?Â
Your eyes slowly blink, but the stain still remains. Youâd rather forget that memory that it brings up.
You look to the left, almost startled to see Robin.Â
When did she get here?Â
âJesus, what the fuck?!â Robin croaks, no doubt taking in your stomach-churning appearance. You imagine you look quite like Death would â hollow eyes, sunken skin, and raw lips. Not to mention the cracked trails of vomit and blood down your chin and neck.Â
âPlease say something! Oh my god, we have to get you to the hospital. Can you walk? Of course you canât okay, uh,â Robin is scrambling, pale cheeks red and tears leaking from her eyes. It almost warms your heart that someone still cares for you, but sheâs not the one you want here right now.Â
âEddieâŠ,â you whisper, barely managing to get the words out before youâre dry heaving up more and more of those yellow flowers beside your head. Your throat tears, and blood gushes from your lips.Â
You can hear Robin questioning what Eddie has to do with this, but youâre so tired, and you canât think.Â
You lay back on the bed and close your eyes, flowers surrounding you like a coffin.Â
Maybe they will be your tomb.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1988
Itâs Friday night, and Eddie hasnât shown once again.Â
Instead of being at your house, youâre making your way to his.Â
You never have Friday nights at his place.Â
But today, that changes. Just like heâs changed.Â
You know the way to his trailer like the back of your hand, youâve been over there so many times.Â
His van isnât in the driveway, which means one of two things.Â
Heâs with Chrissy at her house.
Or Wayne is at work.Â
Given that itâs past six oâclock and Wayneâs shift would have started by now, youâre guessing itâs the latter.Â
You pick up the rock by the door and take the spare key, not bothering to knock when you let yourself in.Â
Immediately youâre hit with the familiar stench of weed, and you grin. The way to his room is short, and just as youâre about to turn the handle you pause.Â
A groan sounds from behind the door.Â
It sounds like itâs coming from Eddie, and immediately your heart stops at the thought of him in pain. You open the door, just a crack, but itâs enough.Â
Eddieâs hovering over a naked Chrissy sprawled on his bed, and you can see that his hand is between her thighs. You donât need to see everything to know what heâs doing.Â
Their lips are locked in a feverish dance, and what you wouldnât give to be Chrissy right now.Â
Why does she get to kiss him and fuck him and love him when you could do it better?Â
Arenât you good enough for him?Â
You can feel something grow in you as you watch them, and again your lungs have that funny feeling.Â
You silently, and as gently as you can, shut the door. Even though you really want to slam it to announce your presence.Â
You retrace your steps in a trance.Â
When youâre back at your apartment, you flop on your bed, and stare up at the unblemished ceiling.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
âDo you understand what Iâm saying, Miss?âÂ
Robin gently shakes your shoulder, turning your attention to the male doctor sitting beside you. His face is screwed in a grimace.Â
You canât remember what he said.Â
It must show on your face, because he says, âThis disease you have, we call it the Hanahaki disease. We arenât one-hundred percent positive if itâs a genetic disease or something else, since itâs so rare.âÂ
Robin listens with rapt attention. She always was a good listener.Â
âIs there a cure?â
The doctor's face, if at all possible, grows even more grim.Â
âItâs⊠yes, I suppose,â he begins. âThereâs surgery⊠but...âÂ
Robin exclaims happily, grinning at you before she turns back to the professional. She didnât even hear that âbutâ.Â
You donât share her excitement. You donât feel much of anything.Â
âThatâs great! How far is she? Will it work? Letâs do it!âÂ
âUnfortunately, her prognosis suggests the disease is stage four. Even if it was in the earlier stages, the surgery has a ninety-eight percent death rate,â he says. He stares you in the eyes, making sure you understand what heâs saying.Â
Thereâs less than a two percent chance that youâll survive this, but the choice will be yours.Â
Robin doesnât quite understand, or perhaps sheâs just in denial that her best friend is more than likely going to die.Â
âWhat do you mean? This⊠It has to work! You have to get the surgery,â she begs, head turning to both of you rapidly.Â
You canât speak, throat too parched and scratched and torn. Thereâs a tickle in the back, like a petal is reaching up in almost full bloom.Â
âIf youâre to go through with this, I need you to fully understand this. This surgery is not a pretty cure â it will take every memory of the person you love. You wonât remember a single thing, but the disease will be gone, as well.âÂ
Robin is stunned, and you? Youâre finally feeling something.Â
âForget⊠E-Eddie?â You whisper, all you can manage. Youâre scared.
How could you forget him?Â
His beautiful chocolate eyes that hold ten thousand emotions.Â
His voice which could pull you to safety no matter where you are.Â
His scent, which has always soothed you.Â
And his smile, that he had only ever reserved for you before Chrissy.Â
How could you forget that? You didnât want to.Â
âNo! N-No, I wonât do it,â you say, as stern as you can manage before youâre hacking up a giant petal. It lands in your hand, and you stare at it.Â
This tulip, this unrequited love, is going to be your death. Eddie is going to kill you, and he doesnât even know.Â
That thought, that he will never know what youâve gone through before itâs too late, cuts deeper than any scar the thorns of the flowers could leave.Â
You feel⊠an ember of anger. Itâs not fully alive, just a flicker. But itâs there.Â
You arenât okay, you havenât been in a year, and itâs his fault. He canât fix these wounds; these wounds that heâs caused. And you donât want him too. You want to die, so then maybe itâll cause him a flicker of the pain he caused you.Â
Just as quickly as that ember becomes a flame, just as those horrible thoughts fester, they all vanish. You could never do that to Eddie.Â
But could you forget him?Â
THEN, Hawkins 1967
The first time your mother met Wayne Munson, was at the grocery store. He was balancing grocery bags and a screaming toddler on his hip and arms. She felt pity â she knew what a handful toddlers were.Â
After all, she had you.Â
Not currently, as you were your father. You were far too volatile to go to the store right now. It seemed nothing they did would calm you down. You screamed and screamed.Â
Maybe that was why your mother put her bags in her car as fast as she could, before hurrying to the man and the child. She knew exactly what he must have been feeling.Â
Overwhelmed, drained.Â
âHey! Need some help?â She hollers, and the screaming toddler pauses for just a moment to look at her before resuming those ear piercing wails. The man groans, closing his eyes before whispering something. He almost drops a bag, but your mom catches it in her hands. She smiles at the man, getting a look at the toddler in his arm.Â
Heâs got wild brown hair, big chocolate eyes, and cute rosy cheeks.Â
âOh how adorable!â She coos, glancing at the older man for his okay, before she leans closer to the baby and makes a silly face. It works, if only for a minute.Â
The baby is intrigued by the new face, wide eyes roaming her face in awe.Â
ââIs namesâ Eddie, Edâs for short. Oh and uh, Iâm Wayne. Wayne Munson.âÂ
Your mom smiles and replies with her name.Â
âIâve actually got a daughter around the same age. Wonât stop crying no matter what we do. Maybe⊠hm, Iâve read in magazines that toddlers improve with emotions when they have friends. Weâre new in town, so the baby girl doesnât have anyâŠâ she trails off, a bit embarrassed. She doesnât know Wayne, but he seems like a good sort.Â
Wayne grins, âIâm sure Edâs here would love to make a new friend, wouldnât ya bud?â Wayne takes one of Eddieâs little hands and waves it in the air, and the two adults exchange addresses.Â
Your mother schedules a playdate two days later when no matter what they do, you wonât stop hollering. When sheâs on Wayneâs steps leading to his trailer, heâs there beyond the threshold holding an equally upset Eddie.Â
They both almost collapse in joy when the two of you instantly calm, and let out toothless grins at each other.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Your surgery is scheduled for tomorrow, after Eddie and Chrissyâs wedding, where youâre at now. With what little energy you had left at the doctors, you made Robin swear she wouldnât tell Eddie.Â
You barely managed to get through the doors of the reception, and youâre caked heavily in makeup and layers to hide the bruises and weight loss. Robin holds you up most of the time, but everyone is so focused on the bride and groom they barely notice.Â
You donât mind, but you can see Robin is practically fuming every time she looks at Eddie. You canât keep your eyes off him, for entirely different reasons.Â
He looks so happy, so handsome, and you know youâve made the right choice. Youâll forget him, and youâre fairly certain heâll forget you. How could he not? Heâs about to have a beautiful wife.Â
Music blares, and itâs a struggle not to flinch when Chrissy walks down the aisle. Just like Eddie, she looks beautiful.Â
Strangely, the jealousy thatâs been eating you alive for the past year is nowhere to be found. You really feel okay, if only for this moment. Like youâre not really here, levitating somewhere the pain canât reach you.Â
You focus with rapt attention as they exchange their vows, not even realizing that the closer they get to their âI doâsâ, the closer that bloomed flower in your throat rises with pain.
âDo you, Chrissy Cunningham, take Eddie Munson to be your lawful wedded husband?âÂ
As tears flow down her pink cheeks, that tulip gets closer and closer, leaving blood in its path.Â
âI do,â she whispers.Â
âAnd do you, Eddie Munson, take Chrissy Cunningham to be your lawful wedded wife?âÂ
The audience holds their breath.Â
You hold it for an entirely different reason. You can no longer breathe as a petal breaches your widening mouth. Robin is crying as she holds you to her chest so no one sees. The audience around you, had they bothered to look, would think youâre both crying tears of joy for the couple. How wrong theyâd be.
âI do,â he grins. And doesnât even look in the crowd to see if youâre there watching this moment.Â
The audience lets out the breath, and so do you, along with a giant, fully bloomed flower and empty promises.Â
THEN, Hawkins 1970
At five, you and Eddie were inseparable.Â
You could always be found in the same place.Â
Right now, youâre both digging in the mud behind his trailer.Â
You let out a little gasp when you see a pretty flower out of the corner of your eye. You reach for it, not knowing the name of the dainty thing, only knowing that itâs a bunch of small blue flowers. You call to Eddie, holding them out shyly.Â
You donât know why in your child's mind, but you think this is a perfect gift for him. He takes them gingerly in his hand, pink blossoming on his cheeks.Â
âEddie, will you marry me when weâre older?â You say, and if your mother was here right now she would be laughing.Â
Eddie stares into the blue flowers, âI promise.âÂ
You grin back, and the two of you resume playing, promise all but forgotten.Â
NOW, Hawkins 1989
Why are you remembering that now? It was years ago, when you were both dumb kids who didnât even understand the words.Â
Just another way heâs tormenting you.Â
One last time, you think.
âAre you ready, Miss?â The anesthesiologist hovering with a mask above you asks.Â
They moved your surgery up after you collapsed at the wedding, and Robin had to haul you to the hospital. You arenât sure how she managed that without Eddie wondering what was up, but maybe that just proves how little he cared.Â
You nod, wondering how youâll live your life once you forget Eddie.Â
Sometimes, you wish you never met Eddie Munson, but if you could go back, you wouldnât change a thing.Â
All those memories, even if youâll be forgetting them, were precious to you. You hope they meant as much to him as they did you.Â
âY-Yes,â you say, and it isnât long before the gas is making you fall asleep in a blissful slumber.Â
When you awaken, your throat is sore, and your lungs still feel tight. Robin is sitting beside your bed, holding your clammy hand. She gasps when you look at her.Â
Why are you in the hospital? Why do you feel like this?
âHow, uh, how do you feel? I should get the doctor!âÂ
You lash out before she can, grasping her wrist as tight as your weak grip will allow.Â
âS-SâŠ,â you canât speak, words garbled, but she understands.Â
Stay.Â
She helps you settle back down, and you give her a smile before your attention is captured by the yellow tulips on the table next to the bed. They look so very familiar, but you canât place them. Robin notices where youâre looking, and she freezes before angling her body so you canât see them.Â
âThey were already here, just pretty flowers. Why donât you rest?â she coaxes your gaze back on her, and you nod.Â
When you close your eyes, all you see is a beautifully devastating face with a smile and chocolate eyes that hold so many emotions and thoughts behind them. Tulips are woven into the blurry faceâs hair, and as the image gets lighter, you chase after it. Youâre so curious by this vision, you canât lose it!Â
You canât seem to remember who the face belongs to no matter how hard you try, but you think the blinding light invading is so inviting. If you let it envelop you in a warm embrace, would you remember? Â
Eddie is jolted awake by the landline letting out a shrill ring. He glances at the analog clock: Three in the morning. Who the fuck is calling this early? He grumbles, but makes sure to kiss Chrissyâs bare shoulder as she sleeps with her back turned.
âWhat?!â he growls into the receiver, and no one answers for what feels like forever. All he can hear is muffled crying, before the voice of Robin.Â
âS-She, fuck, god I can â canât do this,â she cries, and Eddie begins to get worried.Â
âRobin, whatâs wrong?âÂ
âNow you care?!âÂ
Sheâs full on yelling through the phone now, shouting words he can barely understand.Â
Something about flowers, and death, and how heâs evil incarnate.Â
âSTOP!â he shrieks, and breathes deeply when Robin is silent. He barely registers Chrissyâs presence as she lays a hand on his bicep.Â
âNow what the fuck is going on? Are you drunk? Why didnât you call her?âÂ
âBecause sheâs gone, Edâs. Sheâs gone,â Robinâs voice is less than a whisper. But somehow Eddie can hear her loud and clear, and his heart stops.Â
âWhat, what did you say? Who?âÂ
âYou⊠you know who.âÂ
Fear grips him in a chokehold, because he does know who.Â
You.Â
His best friend, the light of his life. Tears bubble from his eyes, and he barely registers his guttural cry as he falls to the ground. He shakes off Chrissy as she fusses and coos and smoothes his hair back. He reaches for the phone in slippery wet hands.Â
âH-How?âÂ
He doesnât want to know, but he has to.Â
Robin explains everything, the flowers, the surgery, what it would do to you.Â
She explains how you suffered for so long because you were in love with him and didnât want to worry anyone. His heart is ripped through his chest, stitched back together before it crumbles all over again when she begins to scream that itâs his fault.Â
âIf you hadnât been so fucking blind, you could have saved her! You killed her! You let her die and suffer alone!âÂ
Eddie canât handle it anymore, and he rips the phone from the wire and throws it across the room. It shatters on impact, much like his heart. Heâs always been a coward.
He shouldnât be making this about him â Robin is right, he was so blinded by Chrissy that he neglected you, had been for so long. He was slowly killing you as much as those flowers were. He hangs his head in his hands, nails digging into his scalp. Maybe, if he welcomes the pain, heâll feel something other than sorrow.Â
NOW, Hawkins, July 10th 1989
Your funeral was beautiful.Â
Your hair was perfectly styled amongst a crown of yellow tulips and blue forget-me-nots.Â
Your lips were tinted, but he could see the discoloration on them.Â
You looked so peaceful in your tomb of flowers, that Eddie was distraught when the wind blew some of your hair across your face. Eddie knew you well enough to know that if that had happened when you were breathing, alive, your nose would have scrunched adorably as you sneezed. Now, your nose didnât move at all.Â
It broke the illusion that you were just sleeping, and Eddie had tears running down his cheeks in a matter of seconds. Less than ten people were at the funeral, only your closest friends beside him. They all gave him glares behind their black tinted glasses, and he had such a wide berth between them that he felt like the freak in high school all over again. At least your parents didnât have to see this, theyâve been dead for years. Heâs selfishly glad they are so they wouldnât blame him, too.Â
Chrissy isnât here, she hasnât been around much since that night. Eddie canât say that heâs upset.Â
All he can think about is your smile, your laugh, your face.Â
When the service is over and everyone has said their goodbyeâs, itâs just him before the workers come back to put you in the ground. He brushes the hair out of your face, running a hand down your smooth cheek. Leaning down, he kisses your forehead as a tear drips off his cheek and runs down yours.Â
His throat tightens in pain, and he welcomes it as something tears and pricks and erupts from his mouth to land right on top of a tulip beside your head. Itâs a blood-stained pink carnation, and although Eddie hasnât always been good with flowers, he started researching after that promise he made to you all those years ago.Â
He canât believe he forgot that, but he remembers now as he looks at the flower. He remembers all of his broken promises and other everlasting memories.
Iâll never forget you.Â
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all of the girls you loved before- e.m
Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female!Reader
Summary: the one where eddie runs into his first love, leaving you to question your relationship in the aftermath. loosely based on the taylor swift song with the same title.
Warnings: angst, crying, jealousy, insecurity, eddie being rude unintentionally, cursing, pda (gross), eddie and reader are a few years out of high school, fluff, happy ending
Word Count: 4.8k
Request?: No
A/N: hello again everyone, its been a minute! since iâve been gone, iâve entered my swiftie era (not like crazy obsessed but def a fan of the music) and this gem of a song dropped and plucked some inspiration from me, so here is a new one shot for you all! enjoy! -sava
The haze within the hot open room of the Hideout was starting to dissipate, the crowd exiting the venue one by one as the band youâve been cheering on from your spot at the bar begins clearing the stage of their equipment. The ringing in your ears has yet to go away, getting so lost in the metal music that you didnât care if it would bite you in the ass at work tomorrow, youâd find a way to take customers orders at the diner, even if they had to scream in order for you to understand.Â
You found yourself sitting at the same spot at the Hideout every Tuesday night to cheer your boyfriend and his band members on. Within the years since graduating high school, the town you called home started coming around to the type of music your boyfriend played, despite ridiculing him for years prior to their own revelations. With the new popularity, Tuesday nights at the Hideout have gone from 5 drunks sitting in the back to almost a packed house every week, begging for encores and autographs at the end of each show. It made you happy seeing your boyfriend celebrated in such a way, having been there for him in his lowest points when the tables were turned. Now you bask in his glory like never before, cheering him on alongside the rest of the town.
Paying your tab, you begin walking towards the back stage area when you see a tall lanky man with long luscious curls make his way over to you, his smile wide as his signature dimples poked into the sides of his cheeks. He extends his arms wide, not caring if he gets in anyones way as he greets you. Taking off in a run, you launch yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his waist as he catches you, hands making contact with your ass in a not-so-subtle way. You pull away and look at him momentarily before pressing your lips to his.
You take in his scent as your mouths move together as one, the sweaty smell that was no match for masking with his cheap cologne filling your nostrils, but you didnât mind one bit. You part away from his lips, looking at the deep chocolate irises that you love seeing on a daily basis before running a hand through his sweaty mop of curls. He sets you down and plays with his bangs, moving them to the side as they desperately try to cling to his damp forehead.
âYou guys killed it tonight,â you tell him, pulling him in for another hug. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side and twisting his upper body and leaning down to press a kiss to your hair before flashing a closed mouth smile at you.
âCouldnât have done it without my number one fan,â he says, cupping your cheek with his large calloused hand and placing yet another kiss to your body, this time directed at your forehead.
âSo I was thinking that maybe tonight we go back to my apartment and watch some movies? I know we usually go bother my coworkers at the diner after your show but I kind of just want some you and me time,â you tell him with a smile.
âThat sounds even better than going to the diner. I bet youâve already picked out a selection of movies.â
âYou know me so well. I rented Halloween, Nightmare on Elm St-â
âEddie? Eddie Munson?â a feminine voice calls out from behind you. You and Eddie turn around, watching a slim figure approach you with a bashful look plastered on her face. As she got closer, you noticed she was wearing a short black leather skirt and a bright pink top, barely leaving anything to the imagination with the amount of cleavage she was showing. Her hair was long and straight, looking silky to the touch as her skin glowed under the colorful stage lights that were still on. Who the hell is this, and how did she know Eddie?
Eddie squints his eyes as she approaches the two of you, his face relaxing and the smile growing wider than youâve ever seen it when he finally makes out her features. You wonât deny the twinge you feel in your chest as you watch him drop your hand and give the mysterious woman a big embrace, bigger than the one he gave you moments ago.
âHoly shit! How are you? I havenât seen you in forever,â Eddie exclaims, breaking away and tucking his hands under his armpits.
âMâgood! Just finished up college not too long ago so I came back to Hawkins while I search for something a little more permanent,â she tells him, her timid demeanor going out the window as you watch the two grow comfortable with one another. âI see things at the Hideout have changed since we went to high school not too long ago.â
âYeah, they sure have,â Eddie chuckles, kicking one of his feet out as he looks down. âLooks like the people in this shit town have finally come around when it comes to listening to good music.â
As you watch the interactions from person to person unfold in front of you, you feel the familiar tickle in your nose begin, hoping and praying that you wonât be noticeable if you arenât able to get rid of the impending sneeze.
âAchoo!â You exclaim, bending down and hiding your nose in the crook of your elbow, silently yelling at yourself when you watch both pairs of eyes land on you.
âBless you,â the mystery woman says with a smile. You nod, taking a step forward to try and join in on the conversation.
âThank you,â you tell her, extending your hand. âIâm Y/N by the way, Eddieâs girlfriend.â
You watch Eddie nod as she takes your hand, shaking it firmly. âIâm Heather.â
Suddenly you feel your brain catching up with the rest of the world, clicking into place once the name leaves her mouth. This was the Heather youâd heard so much about from Eddieâs friends. The same Heather that just so happened to be his first love, capturing his heart in ways you wish you couldâve done yourself. If only youâd moved to Hawkins earlier in your high school career compared to your senior year, a.k.a Eddieâs second attempt at being a senior.Â
The members of the Hellfire Club gave you all the details that you needed to know about Heather: that she was Eddieâs first everything. First date, first love, first time, and eventually, his first heartbreak. The two were smitten with one another when no one else wanted to look Eddieâs way, with all the judgy classmates questioning why they were together in the first place. They didnât see Eddie for who he truly was, they only ever judged him based on his outer appearance. The same goes for Heather: everyone always questioned why someone as hot as her would settle for someone like Eddie, which always made you upset to hear.
âItâs really nice to meet you Heather. Iâve heard a lot about you,â you tell her, trying your best to sound as sincere as possible. Eddie shoots you a look, silently telling you to stop, which makes your heart drop a bit. Adverting your eyes from him, you look back at Heather, who didnât miss the interaction.Â
âAll good things I hope,â she jokes.
âAre you kidding? Of course all good things. I can only hope you extended the same courtesy for me, if you did tell your college friends about me,â he says, rushing the last part out. Was he getting nervous?
âI can assure you that I did. Even after the way things endedâŠâ she says, looking down to the ground as her sentence trails off. You can sense the tension in the air, feeling as if youâre causing the vibe of the conversation to shift a bit. Masking your feelings with a smile, you turn to them and excuse yourself, lying about needing to use the restroom before heading out for the night. Holding the curtain to the side, you enter the backstage area and round a counter towards an empty hallway you know nobody ever comes down after the shows, as you and Eddie have had your share of moments in this very spot, both PG and R rated moments.
As the secluded feeling sinks in, you feel the confidence and happiness that filled your body just moments ago begin to evaporate, vanishing into thin air as you replay the last few minutes in your head. His big smile when he saw her, the big and warm embrace, the look he gave you when you nudged your way into the conversation. It made you want to shrink into yourself. Jealousy was never something you were known for having, usually being more focused on the moment at hand and knowing the security you had with the relationships you had with the people around you.
But the history between Eddie and Heather changed that.
When you first heard about Heather, you didnât pay much attention to it because you knew that was his past. He told you numerous times that he loves you and loves being with you, and it made you confident in the strength of your relationship. But knowing how strong those feelings he had for Heather and seeing her interact with him in real time, it changed things. He was a different man from the one he was in high school, having graduated and making a name for himself with the music he loves performing. And now that Heather is back in Hawkins for a while, it makes you wonder what could happen between the two of them.Â
Would they be able to reconcile? It didnât look like there were any harsh feelings anymore, so maybe making up was still an option for them. What if Eddie wanted to revisit his past and be with the girl he loved before you came into his life? Was the love he had for her stronger than the love he has for you?
You could feel yourself being to spiral, your arms wrapping around your body and hugging on tight. Your breathing was starting to become jagged and unsteady, trying your best to take deep breaths slowly to get yourself to calm down. Thinking the worst was always such an easy solution for you, because preparing for the worst and not being shocked by the disappointment that lies ahead was better than being blind to the impending doom.
Once you feel yourself becoming calmer, you exit the hallway and walk towards the curtain once again, hesitating and stopping in your tracks. Peeking your head out, you can see the two of them still talking, Eddie throwing his head back in laughter as the two share a funny moment with one another, making your heartache grow. Retreating back behind the curtain, you turn and see Gareth walking your way, a smug look on his face before contorting into a welcoming smile.
âHey Y/N! Glad to see you made it out tonight, even though I know youâre in the audience every Tuesday,â he says, wrapping his arms around you. You give him a quick hug, pulling away and failing to mask the hurt as you see his demeanor change. âEverything okay?â
âYeah! Yeah, everything is fineâŠitâs just, Heather is here tonight. She came up to Eddie and I and started talking with him and catching up-â
âWait, Heather Heather?â Gareth asks before poking his head out of the curtain. âHoly shit! I had no idea she was back in town. Still looks as hot as ever.â
Pretending to ignore that, you let out a sigh and tap him on the shoulder. Gareth turns to you, lifting a brow.
âCan you make out what her and Eddie are talking about? I think I sort of killed their vibe earlier and now it looks like things are picking up now that Iâm not there.â
âYeah, hang on one second,â he tells you before disappearing behind the curtain. As much as you appreciate Gareth helping, you were more scared to know how the conversation is going. With all the possibilities that were swirling around in your head, it was just getting fogged up with negativity that you were not expecting this evening and you hated going to such a low place.
A moment later, Gareth pops back from the other side of the curtain with a neutral expression, which worries you more than it should. You raise your eyebrows at him, bracing yourself for whatever news that he was about to deliver.
âSo I used the gig as an excuse to talk with them and told Eddie that we were almost done loading the equipment up, which is true, and he said heâd be back here in a minute. But as I was walking away, I heard Heather mention how they should catch up another time over coffee and when I looked back, she was writing her number down on a napkin for him,â he explains.
Somehow the news hurts you more than you imagined it would. With their plans on the horizon sometime soon, it made the insecurities rise once again. You knew how special someoneâs first love could be because Eddie was that for you. Before moving to Hawkins, you had your fair share of dating but none that meant much to you compared to the feelings your harbor for Eddie. Knowing that he already experienced that with someone else didnât bother you until that person had to show up right there in front of you. A majority of these worries and doubts reside in your head, youâre aware of that, but it almost feels as if there is going to be a choice he is going to make, and it isnât looking good for your side.
You can feel the tears beginning to well in your eyes, unable to hide the frown that resides on your lips as you process what Gareth told you. Looking at him, you flash him a sad smile before wiping away at your bottom lash line, a half-baked attempt to get rid of the tears. He rests a hand on your shoulder, ducking his head down to try and make eye contact with you.Â
âHey, donât get sad, okay? Heather is just Eddieâs past, but youâre his present and his future. You donât have anything to worry about,â he tries to reassure you.
âYeah, you might be right,â you tell him before meeting his gaze and making eye contact. âBut you didnât see the way he looked at her. The way he smiled at her, the way he held her. On top of that, the way he looked at me when I talked to her. Iâm worried that I actually do have something to worry about,â you explain.
Now it was Garethâs turn to frown, breaking the eye contact and staring at the floor below. He should know better than anyone how Eddie felt about Heather all those years ago and it doesnât just go away overnight.Â
âI think I should go. Iâm going to sneak around the other wayâŠwill-will you tell Eddie I wasnât feeling good or something? If you can think of a good excuse, just use it, because my brain is fogged up right now and I canât think of any,â you ask. Gareth nods, sending a sad smile your way before you disappear behind more curtains as you make your way around the stage to exit through the front doors unnoticed.
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Itâs been three days since youâve last seen Eddie.
Clocking out of your shift at the diner, you sigh as you realize its your usual date night with Eddie, yet havenât heard a word from him since the awkward encounter with his ex at the Hideout. To say the silence has hurt you would be an understatement, as you wait by the phone any chance youâre home hoping he will call. He always makes it a point to call you at the end of each day when he knows you both are already off work, catching up on each others days and talking for hours before falling asleep.
Now youâre going home alone for the fourth night in a row, wasting away as you prepare yourself for when Eddie does eventually call you to break things off, telling you he wants to try things with Heather again while she is in town and rekindle the blissful and naive love they once held in their hearts for one another.
Tossing your jacket on the back of one of the chairs at your kitchen table, you let out a sigh as you begin making your way to your bedroom and undressing your uniform. Quickly, you change into a comfortable band t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, tossing your dirty uniform in your laundry basket before going back to the kitchen. Opening your fridge, you spot the bottle of wine you have been eyeing every day after work this week. The delicious red teasing you and wanting you to indulge in the sweet liquid to cope with the impending end of your relationship.
âFuck it,â you mutter to yourself, before grasping the bottle and twisting the cap open. Opening the cabinet above, you grab the first wine glass you see and take it out, pouring the wine in until it gets close the the rim. You take hold of the glass and make your way over to your couch, bringing the glass to your lips and letting the wine travel down your throat with ease.Â
Before youâre able to bask in the taste, you hear your doorbell ring throughout your apartment. With a puzzled expression, you set the glass of wine down on your coffee table and make your way back to the front door, sliding the peep hold cover to the side to get a look at just who could be outside. Rolling your eyes, you take a deep breath before opening the door, standing face to face with the man who owns your heart. At least, for the next few minutes.
âHey sweetheart,â he says with a smile.
âWhat are you doing here?â You ask straight out of the gate.Â
âGood to see you too,â he says, raising his eyebrows and looking down at the pizza box resting in his hands for a moment. âI wasnât sure what you wanted to do for date night tonight, so I just took it as an opportunity to plan an evening of pizza, movies, and indulging in the new weed I got from Rick yesterday.â
âI just thought we werenât going to do date night this week since I hadnât heard from you,â you say.
âSorry sweetheart, that is my bad.â He tells you as he makes his way inside your apartment. He sets the pizza on the kitchen table and opens the fridge and pulls a beer out. âIâve been extremely busy this week with work, band practice, andâŠuh, wellâŠâ
âHeather?â You question, closing the door and resting your back against it as you bring your arms to cross in front of your chest. He stills for a moment, frozen in place as silence falls over the apartment unit. Turning to you, he raises his eyebrows while biting his lip, his physical look of guilt showing front and center. Trying your best to remain stoic, you quirk a brow at him, keeping your position at the door as you wait for an explanation.Â
âHow, uhâŠhowâd you know about that?â He finally asks after several minutes of silence.
âGareth told me before I left on Tuesday. Said he overheard her giving you her number,â you answer plainly.
Another beat of silence falls throughout the room. Eddieâs attention is on the floor below him, kicking his feet as he digs his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and forgetting about the beer he was excited about enjoying. You find your eyes diverting to the ground as well, finding it hard to look over at your favorite metalhead. Mentally preparing yourself for the ache to grow, you finally let out a deep sigh, your hand coming up to rub at your forehead before you work up the courage to look at him again.
âLook, if you came all this way to let me down gently with pizza and weed, you can just save yourself the trouble. Iâve already spent the past few days preparing for this, so lets just call it what it is and go on about our lives, okay?â You muster out, feeling your throat close up and voice waver towards the end. You shut your mouth, turning your head as you feel your bottom lip begin to quiver. Opening the door, you step to the side and remain silent, not trusting yourself to speak anymore. You canât breakdown in front of him, not when heâs choosing another girl over you.
You hear his heavy footsteps grow closer to you, stopping right before your figure. Your eyes are planted to the floor, seeing his stark white Reeboks enter your vision before leaving once again. Suddenly, you feel his hand lay on top of the one holding the handle to the front door, guiding it to a close and stepping to the side.
âIâm not breaking up with you,â he reveals.
You whip your neck in the direction he moved to, seeing the sad expression on his face as his big brown cow eyes look into yours. Part of you was hesitant to question him about it, not wanting his mind to change in a matter of seconds and leave you in a puddle of sadness afterall. But the more logical part of your brain wanted answers. Why did he not bother calling you for days but thought it was okay to hang out with his ex? Why didnât he confess earlier about seeing her around? Why was he acting so strange at the Hideout, and why didnât he want you talking to her?
âWhat?â
âI said Iâm not breaking up with you, sweetheart. Why was that even a thought that popped into your head?â He asks, his voice level and sweet. He takes a step closer to you, filling the small gap that had separated you moments ago before slowly extending an arm out to you, cupping your cheek in his hand and rubbing the pad of his thumb across the soft skin.
âI donât knowâŠâ you finally answer, the lack of confidence in your voice giving you away as your sentence trails off.
âCâmon, I know you had to think that somehow. I wonât be mad or anything, I promise. Just want my sweet girl to talk to me.ïżœïżœ
You take the beat of silence to think about to how explain it to him without coming across as a jealous and needy girlfriend. You can do this, you think to yourself.
âItâs just-I know how you felt during that relationship and how deep the feelings were thanks to Gareth and Jeff, a-and the way you were talking to her and looking at her at the Hideout on Tuesday made it look like no time had passed and that the feelings were still there. I mean, she gave you her number Eds! A-and you just said you hung out with her!â You exclaim, breaking out of his grasp and retreating towards the living room. You run a hand down your face, sighing as you try to level your heavy breathing.Â
âOkay, when you put it like thatâŠyeah it sounds bad,â you hear him say from the kitchen. You sit on the couch, taking a large sip of the wine you abandoned earlier. Eddie turns around and stalks over to you, sitting on the chair opposite of you, not wanting to get too close again after the failed attempt. âBut baby, I promise nothing happened with Heather and I, okay? We went over to Rickâs last night after grabbing coffee and smoked. Nothing more.â
âI just wish you told me about it,â you let out, feeling deflated from the way you were reacting.
âI know baby, and Iâm sorry I didnât. Work had been busy and when I was going to call you after I woke up yesterday, Heather called and asked to hang out at the coffee shop. I shouldâve used the payphone outside the place or hell, called you before I left my place. If I could go back and do so I would.â
You flash him a half-hearted smile, looking back towards your wine glass before picking it up once again. Bringing it to your lips, you take another big sip, beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol move throughout your limbs and send a tingling feeling in them. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Eddie slide over onto the couch, still leaving room between the two of you as he leans his arms on his knees, hanging his head down a bit and letting his long mane of curls move forward with him.
âYou want to know what we talked about yesterday? Over coffee?â He asks, quirking a brow your way as he shifts a bit from his position.
âHmm?â
âWe caught up, I asked her about college, she told me all kinds of stories. Even told me the story of how she met her fiancĂ©, who moved in with her when she came back to Hawkins. Theyâre getting married in November, a few weeks before Thanksgiving which I thought was nice. Then I talked to her about you, and how weâve been dating since the winter of â84 and been inseparable since then. I mustâve been smiling really hard or something because she pointed out how happy I looked when I talk about you, which is true,â he chuckles out, a silly grin creeping onto his features.
Now it was your turn to smile, unable to hide the warm and fuzzy feeling that made its way into your chest at hearing the words. You set the wine glass back down, shifting on the couch so you were facing his direction, legs crossed as you leaned over to take his hand in yours. âReally?â
âOh of course baby. Look, what I had with Heather all those years ago was great, and I appreciate the time I had with her then. But loving her taught me how to be better and show the person I was really meant for all the more love and affection that they deserve. You,â he boops your nose, making a giggle escape past your lips. â-you are the one I love now and will love until I take my last breath okay? All the shit Iâve been through was worth it because it brought you to me when you moved here, and I am so fucking happy about that. Wouldnât trade that for anything.â
You canât help but feel the burning sensation behind your eyes at Eddieâs sweet words. Sure, you still felt like a bit of a fool for acting like a jealous girlfriend, but hearing Eddie shut down all your worries and reassure you about his feelings for you in the nicest way you couldâve imagined warmed your heart. You move your hand to the back of his neck, pulling him towards you and closing the distance between you as your lips meet his. His hand instinctively goes to your hip, holding you closer as his mouth moves against yours in fever.
Eventually pulling away, you lean your forehead against his, giggling to yourself as you feel his bangs tickle the sensitive skin of your cheeks. You look at his big brown eyes, seeing the soft look he was giving you and melting all over again.
âSorry for acting like a jealous girlfriend babe. Not the prettiest look for me if Iâm being honest,â you joke.
âHey, if the roles were reversed, I would totally act the way you did, so I get it. But now you know that you donât ever have to worry about anyone else, because like I said, youâre it for me baby. I love you.â
âI love you more,â you say, pressing your lips to his cheek. He shoots you a grin, breaking contact with your forehead and rubbing slow circles into the fabric of your leggings.Â
âHow about I warm up that pizza I brought over and we pop in one of those movies I rented? You probably need some food after all that wine you drank,â he says, making you laugh. Nodding, you agree.
âThat sounds like the best idea youâve had.â
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Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?
Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc
WC: 1.6k
A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!
Divider credit to @saradika
Eddieâs looking at her again.
You canât blame him; heâd be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isnât imagining sweeping her off of her feetâ
âDo you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?â
Almost instinctively, Dustinâs eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. âI donât know if thatâs a good idea,â he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. âShe and Jason, like, just broke up.âÂ
This information doesnât deter Eddie in the slightest. âExactly. Sheâs probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentineâs Day. I could be herâŠFreak in Shining Armor.â He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, âYouâre a girl. What do you think?â
The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.
With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. âIf you like her, you should go for it.â
Thatâs all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, âAll right, Iâm doinâ it.â
Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.
âHeâs an idiot,â he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. âHeâll figure it out one day, but you shouldnât sit around waiting for it to happen.â
Logic tells you that heâs right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when heâs one of your closest friends.
Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this weekâs campaign.
Chrissy received Eddieâs candy gram on Valentineâs Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver.Â
âOf course she went back to him,â Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. âAm I gonna be alone forever?â
âProbably.â You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. âMaybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.â
He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. âShe told me she âappreciates my friendship.ââ He shakes his head. âFucking humiliating.â
The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period.Â
The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books.Â
Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie.Â
And no one wanted you.Â
A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. âWeâre in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.â He shrugs. âPlus, I wanted to check on you.â
âIâm fine.â
He doesnât believe you, you know he doesnât. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie.Â
Jeff takes a deep breath. âLook, Eddie doesnât know what he wants.â
âSeems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,â you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers.Â
âNoâŠI mean, yeah. But thatâs because sheâs, like, safe.â
You scoff. âAsking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?âÂ
âSounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.â Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. âSheâs not part of our group, so he doesnât have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, sheâs nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. Iâm sure she didnât tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he wouldâve announced it to the whole school by now.â
You nod in reluctant agreement.Â
âAnd speaking of that jackass,â Jeff continues, âhow many times have they broken up and gotten back together?âÂ
âToo many to count.â Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when youâre stuck at home with a fever.Â
âExactly.â Jeff exhales. âChrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now heâs head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but itâs nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.â
Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. âI donât think he cares about being rejected by me.â
He mumbles something under his breath but doesnât say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together.Â
Thank God you donât actually have a test today; you wouldnât be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.
You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?
Uneasiness builds within you until itâs impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.
Eddieâ
Iâm sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what itâs like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but youâll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.
You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentineâs Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but itâll do.
Eddieâs waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.
âWho is he?â Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. âThis mystery guy who doesnât want you. Who is he?â
âNo one. Itâs fine,â you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. âIt was just to let you know that youâre not alone in this, okay?â
He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. âNah, not okay. Iâve gotta kick his ass.â He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.
âWell, you canât.â
âAnd why not?â Eddie scoffs. âI know Iâm scrawny, but Iâm pretty damn scrââ
âBecause youâd be kicking your own ass!â The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what youâve said. âIâm sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.â
You start to leave, but youâre tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. âFollow me,â he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. âRepeat that? Because I donât think I heard you right.â
âYouâre the guy who doesnât want me,â you manage through the lump in your throat, âand itâs okay, because we canât help who we like and who we donât. I donât want you to feel guilty or anything like that.âÂ
Youâre rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.
Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. âDo you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?â
You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.
âYeah, I tried to keep it that way,â he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. âSo, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that weâd get to know each other here and then Iâd ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. SoâŠthere ya have it.â He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.
âAnd now you like Chrissy.â Out with the old, in with the new.
Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. âNot the way I like you,â he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. âNot even close.â
You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that heâll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.
The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the clubâs musings.
âTook them long enough.â
âSeriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.â
âCrap, do you think they can hear us?â Â
âYeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,â Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.
âNow, where were we?â
--
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Never really over | S.H.
summary: [4.2k] you and steve fall apart, then fall back together.
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
warnings: so much angst, best friends to exes to lovers, language, gratuitous taylor swift references
a/n: exes to lovers is one of my fave tropes so i hope i did it justice! reader is vaguely asian-coded by accident (though there shouldnât be any direct references to r's appearance!) lmao happy AAPI heritage month to all my fellow asians
masterlist
The day after your breakup, Steve shows up at your house with a bag of takeout and a six-pack. He kicks off his shoes at the front door while youâre in the kitchen, already grabbing napkins and chopsticks. The light on the floral rice cooker on the counter just turned from cooking to keep warm. Steve is nothing, if not right on time.Â
To most people, the situation would seem peculiar. But you and Steve were best friends before your break up and you had promised that you would stay best friends after it.Â
You settle in on opposite sides of the worn-down loveseat, a rerun of Golden Girls playing on the television. Youâre just about to ask him if he remembered to get extra sauce for the chow mein when Steve, seemingly anticipating your question, silently hands you a small cylindrical container.Â
The night goes on as it usually would, with Steve lamenting Keithâs tyranny and Dustinâs antics. He helps you clean up when youâre done, scooping the leftover rice into a Tupperware container saying I gotta get myself one of these, itâs so convenient! He even does the dishes, washing while you dry, never commenting on the fact that you have a perfectly good dishwasher that you never use.Â
Once heâs standing in the entryway, shoes back on and keys in hand, he instinctively leans in for a chaste kiss goodbye.Â
You flinch, turning your cheek at the last second. The moment becomes a sobering reminder as to why you decided to break up in the first place. Instinct over time starts to feel like routine. Routine over time starts to feel like a chore. Another thing that you have to cross off your to-do list.
For a while, it was grounding. It felt good to be normal. Normal felt like warmth, like coming in out of the freezing cold and cozying up next to a blazing fire. But you knew from experience that the cold always comes back. As the days drew darker, the once roaring hearth settled into a pile of ashes. Being grounded can feel like being tied down. Itâs only natural to want to break free.Â
You didnât realize freedom would feel like this.Â
âRight.â Steve huffs out awkwardly, swinging his car keys around his index finger. âIâll see you tomorrow.â
He shuffles out the door while you offer a weak goodbye. You know youâre letting the cold in by watching him as he gets into his car. You do it anyway.Â
â
Steve and Dustin have taken to visiting you while youâre on shift at the coffee shop. Youâre not sure why. The arcade next door seems much more fitted to their shared interests, but they still come and visit you all the same. Usually, when you come upon them, theyâre standing on the other side of the till having a whispered conversation that dies the moment they notice youâre there.Â
âA latte for me, and hot cocoa for the kid.â Steve says, ruffling the younger boy's hair.Â
âIâm fourteen!â
âOh, Iâm sorry Mr. Maturity. Did you want a coffee? Iâm sure our girl over here has some great recommendations.âÂ
Dustin only grumbles in response, muttering insults under his breath. Steve refuses your offer to comp their drinks, paying and dropping his change in the tip jar. Â
You set both drinks down on the counter when theyâre done. One is a simple steaming cup. The other is piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles, decorated with a tiny plastic snowman left over from the holidays.Â
âThank you,â Steve says, leaning against the counter. âYâknow, youâre my most favorite barista in the whole world.â
âIâm pretty sure Iâm the only barista you know, but youâre welcome.âÂ
âSo, would you be interested in movie night tomorrow?âÂ
âWow, let me think.â You feign contemplation, sarcasm dripping from every word. âIâll have to check my schedule. I have a meeting with some venture capitalists but I might be able to squeeze you in.â
âItâs a date.âÂ
âSo⊠you guys are back together?â Dustin darts a confused glance between the both of you, his irises going back and forth as if watching a ping-pong match.Â
âNo!â You and Steve both blurt out at the same time. Then you both take a moment to look at each other as if to say, I know why I said no but why are you saying no?Â
Is it really over?
Dustin, as observant and tactless as ever, gives off a little shrug. You mutter something about needing to go to the back to do inventory. As youâre walking away, you hear Steve say something that sounds a lot like Nice going, doofus!
â
Dustin answers the door when you ring the bell. Steveâs house has the usual suspects for movie night. Max and El are cuddled up together on the floor, practically laying on top of each other. Robin and Nancy are on the loveseat to the left, so wrapped up in each other that they barely even register your arrival. You presume that the sounds coming from the kitchen are Mike, Will, and Lucas, no doubt making one too many bowls of popcorn in the microwave. Â
Steve is sitting, his arm draped over the back of the couch. Before, there wouldâve been no questions as to where you would sit. The empty couch cushion practically had your name on it. You wouldâve already bounded across the room and snuggled up to the boy that felt like home.Â
You search the room for another option, but come up empty. Unless you want to pointedly avoid sitting next to him by crashing on the floor with the kids, which would undoubtedly draw attention to the very thing you want to ignore.Â
Taking a seat next to Steve, you toe the line between platonic distance and romantic distance.
âWhatâs on tonight?â You ask no one in particular.Â
âThe Princess Bride.â Lucas replies, coming from the kitchen with a bowl of fresh popcorn.Â
He barely gets a chance to put it down before the three other boys tumble onto the floor and begin shoveling the savory snack into their mouths. Max and El whine about their lack of civility, yelling at them for having spilled popcorn on the floor before the movie has even started.
âAh, thatâs my favorite!âÂ
âI know.â Steve finally speaks up beside you.Â
âWeâve only seen it like a million times.â Max says, rolling her eyes and resting her head on Elâs shoulder.Â
âHey! Little shits who eat my food and use me as a taxi service donât get to complain about my movie choices.â
âWhatever, Steve.â The redhead remarks, with an unmistakable fondness in her voice.Â
You settle into your seat. The January cold has seeped into the house and, despite the heating being on full blast, youâre freezing. Steve notices, tugging the comforter in his lap over your frame, enveloping you in a warmth you didnât realize you missed so much. You murmur a quiet thank you that youâre almost sure goes unheard until he turns, giving you a small smile before returning his attention to the screen.Â
In order to properly share the blanket, you have to scoot in even closer. You tell yourself that itâs a perfectly reasonable platonic distance, that you used to do this all the time before you were dating. If Steve is experiencing even a fraction of your inner turmoil, he doesnât show it. He just keeps looking ahead, paying far too much attention to the film. The palm that would usually come to rest upon your shoulder stays gripping the back of the couch.Â
Sometime after Buttercup and Wesley enter the forbidden forest, you fall asleep.
Itâs hard to make out anything through the dense fog. The trees around you loom large, foliage so lush and thick that it blocks out the sky, making it unclear if itâs day or night. The only light source comes from an oil lamp.Â
The lamp casts a shadow over the face of the person holding it, emphasizing his strong brow and straight nose. You go to move toward Steve, but you canât. Youâre stuck. Ankle deep in sand, coarse and with the consistency of molasses, that slowly creeps up higher and higher. It takes you a moment to realize; the sand isnât getting higher, youâre getting lower.Â
Youâre sinking.Â
Desperately, you begin grasping at anything and everything that might get you out. Itâs futile. The more you move, the further you fall. Youâre waist-deep now. Steve is still standing there, stone-faced, oil lamp flickering. He turns, walking into the fog and taking the light with him.Â
You open your mouth, wanting to scream. Needing to scream. But only one word echoes throughout. It does nothing to stop Steveâs retreating figure.Â
Stay.Â
âHey,â Steve is tugging on the sleeve of your sweater. âWake up.âÂ
The fog dissipates. Feeling slowly returns to your limbs. The first thing you realize is that you fell asleep on Steveâs shoulder. The second thing you realize is that, due to your impromptu nap, the distance between the two of you is practically nonexistent. You recoil, sliding yourself as far away from him as you can. Steve flinches at the sudden movement.Â
âAre you okay?â His voice is soft and comforting, like a childhood blanket that you canât sleep without. âIt seemed like you were having a bad dream.â
You blink your eyes furiously, trying to shake the sinking feeling that has settled deep into your stomach.Â
âWhere is everyone?â You ask, avoiding his question. The once lively living room is now empty. Remnants of movie night surround you in the form of stray pieces of popcorn and a nearly empty tub of Red Vines.Â
âThey all went home about twenty minutes ago.â
âWhy didnât you tell me?â
âYou seemed so comfortable. I didnât wanna wake you.â He shrugs, saying the next words gently. âAre you having nightmares again?âÂ
Before, you would tell him yes. You always talked to Steve about your nightmares. Most of the time he was there to witness them firsthand, waking up to your shouting and thrashing. Some nights, he would be able to coax you back to sleep with soothing words and tender touches. Other nights, he would stay up with you for hours, talking about nothing. The next day, the deep bags etched under his eyes would serve as another reminder of just how tiring you could be.
âIâm fine.â You wipe the corner of your mouth, cringing at the slight dampness you find there. Great. Not only did you fall asleep on Steve but you also drooled on him. âI think itâs time for me to head out.â
Leaping from the couch, you get to the foyer in record time. Your shoes are already halfway on before Steve appears, standing in between you and the door.Â
âYou donât have to. You know the guest room is always made up for you if you want it.â He bargains.Â
âIâ I have to go. Iâm sorry. Goodnight Steve.âÂ
âPlease, youâre tired. At least let me drive you.â Heâs practically pleading, already moving to grab his car keys. Â
âJust let me go, Steve!â Your outburst echoes throughout the empty house.Â
Steve takes a step back away from you. âIâm sorry.â
Regret washes over you like a tidal wave. You can feel yourself being ripped under the current. You curse yourself, not for drowning, but for dragging Steve down with you.Â
âNo, donât apologize. Fuck, Iâm sorry. I justââÂ
âHave to go?â He supplies.Â
He sounds dejected like this is another battle with you that heâs already resigned himself to losing. You fumble through another apology, another goodbye.
You donât dare to look behind you as you make your way to your car. It isnât until youâre halfway down your street that you spare a glance at your rear-view mirror. Steve is still standing there, the door wide open.Â
You donât know why you keep having dreams where you ask Steve to stay.Â
Youâre the one who is always leaving.Â
â
âShe was totally flirting with you!â You scream whisper, keeping in mind that the diner is mostly empty aside from the loyal patrons that come in every weekday for a hearty serving of beef and potatoes.
Steve showed up to the coffee shop today, sans Dustin, asking if youâd like to grab a bite to eat after your shift. You obliged, hoping to make up for your outburst from the other night. He still hasnât mentioned it. For your sake, you hope that he wonât.
âNo, she wasnât.â You thought Steveâs obliviousness when it came to romance only extended to you. Apparently, you were wrong because he was completely ignoring the way that the waitress was batting her eyelashes at him.
âYes, she was!â You take a fry from the basket and Steve pushes his strawberry milkshake toward you, already knowing that you were going to subject him to the gross combination and he might as well get it over with. âYâknow, if you wanted to ask her out you could. Donât let me hold you back.â
âYouâre not holding me back. Anyways, isnât it weird, having your ex-girlfriend be your wingman?â
âIâm still your best friend. Besides, you totally helped me out with Brandon so I just thought Iâd return the favor.â
âWhat are you talking about?â Steve asks, causing you to furrow your brow at him. Despite having loved him for a long time and having known him for even longer, his inability to read a room knows no bounds.Â
âLast week at Family Video?â You utter the words with slow precision, but recognition fails to make its way across Steveâs face. âBrandon Clayborn asked you for horror movie recommendations and you sent him to me.â
âAnd he asked you out?â Steve gapes at you from over the rim of his milkshake. The idea of grabbing the glass and slogging the pink confection at him crosses your mind, but instead, you clench your fists at your side.Â
âIs that so unbelievable?â At your response, Steveâs brows pinch together. He toys with the wrapping paper of his straw, folding it over and over again.Â
âAnd what did you say?â
âI said yes.â
âOh.â Steve finally stops fiddling with the piece of paper. Itâs shredded to pieces in a pile in front of him. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the bulging leather wallet. âIâll be right back.âÂ
With that, Steve slides out of the booth and walks up to the counter. The giggles of the waitress can be heard throughout the diner. You turn toward the window so that you donât have to see her scrawl her number on the receipt, and you catch your muddled reflection. You donât know if you look like youâve seen a ghost or if youâve become one.Â
â
Due to unforeseen circumstances, your second date with Brandon had to be rescheduled. A literal rain check. Heâd sputtered out numerous apologies over the crackling phone line, saying how the picnic he had planned didnât account for a torrential downpour. You promised him that it was fine, that you didnât even wanna leave the house in this weather. You didnât think anyone would want to leave the house in this weather, which is why you grew shocked at the sound of the doorbell ringing.Â
Then you promptly remember that this is Hawkins and that anyone or anything could be behind that door. Grabbing the old wooden bat you keep under the couch for emergencies, you inch toward the door. The frantic ringing of the bell matches the beat of your heart. Peering through the peephole, you sigh in both relief and frustration before flinging the door open.
âAre you insane?!â You practically scream at the soaking wet boy. âYou scared the shit outta me.â
Steve stands in the threshold, shaking his head like a dog would to get all the water out. You flinch as the droplets inevitably fall on you. The fine mist and wind that heâs brought in with him chill you to the bone.Â
âSorry.â He smiles sheepishly.
âHow did you even manage to get this wet in the twenty feet from the street to the porch?â You ask, peering behind him to look for the familiar maroon vehicle. It isnât there.Â
âI walked here.â
You balk at him. Sure, Steve has been known to act recklessly from time to time, but never without reason. Instead of taking the time to berate him for being so stupid, you take one look at the soggy shivering boy and shut the door, turning on your heel towards your bedroom. You donât need to look behind you to know that heâs following you.Â
âCâmon, youâre gonna catch a cold if you stay in those wet clothes.â
You rummage through your drawers, managing to find a t-shirt and sweatpants that you had stolen from him long ago. Now is as good a time as any to give it back, right? Stuffing the items in your arm, you thrust them into Steveâs hands and direct him to the bathroom. He doesnât need direction. He knows the floorplan of your house just like he knows youâall too well.
While Steve is in the bathroom, you go to shut the drawers that you had left open in the rush to find him something to wear. The bottom drawer has always had a problem, getting stuck at the most inopportune moments. Lifting it just a little, you slam the drawer back into place which causes the contents on top of your dresser to shake with the force. The silver picture frame falls on its face and you go to place it right side up.Â
Itâs a photograph of the two of you from last summer. Robin had pointed the camera at you and at the very last second Steve grabbed you and placed a sloppy kiss on your cheek, causing you to squeal in delight. The memory stings. You almost want to put it face down again so that you donât have to be reminded of what once was. Instead, youâre interrupted by the sound of a lock turning and quiet footfalls on carpeted floors.Â
The moment Steve steps into your bedroom, youâre drenched in nostalgia. Itâs been months since youâve seen him like thisâstanding in his pajamas in your bedroom. Itâs moments like this that are the hardest. The ones where you can feel how everything and nothing has changed. It feels like relief and restriction.Â
You realize youâre still standing in front of the dresser and go to sit on your bed. You need to put space between you and Steve. He has this insane gravitational pull and you know that if you stay around him like this for too long, youâll end up back in his orbit. Â
He steps cautiously around the room like heâs afraid of stepping on a landmine. One wrong move and everything could blow up. Standing in front of the dresser, he takes the dreaded picture frame into his hands. Heâs still using a towel to dry his hair when he finally speaks.Â
âItâs a good picture.â He says, simply. The pads of his thumbs wipe away the layer of dust that coats your sunbleached faces.Â
âIt is.â You manage to choke out. âWhy are you here, Steve?â
He places the picture frame back down on the dresser. Itâs perfectly angled towards you. The ghost of your smiling face taunting you in your own bedroom.Â
âItâs funny, yâknow?â Steve lets out a mirthless laugh. Â
âWhat is?â
âWe broke up and the only person I wanna talk about it with is you.â
All of the air has been sucked out of the room. Steve has always been good at taking your breath away.Â
âI mean, I get it. I get why we broke up. I do.â He lets out a deep breath before continuing on, not giving you a chance to interrupt. âExcept, I donât. I canât wrap my head around how one day we were fine and the next day we werenât. I know that Iâm not good enough for youâIâve always known that. I guess I just wanna know when you finally figured it out.â
His words make you ache. A tightness blooms in your chest and spreads all the way down your arms to your trembling fingertips. You want so badly to reach out to him. Heâs on the other side of the room but he might as well be on the other side of the world. You donât know how to bridge the ravine that youâve put between the two of you. You know for him youâd make the leap, uncaring of the abyss below. The thought scares you so much that your fists tangle in your bedsheets, hoping for something to keep you from falling back in.  Â
âThe last thing I wanted was for you to feel like you werenât good enough for me. Youâve always been good enough, Steve.â Â
You can tell from the shake of his head that he doesnât believe you.Â
âI thought that maybe you just needed a little space, a little time. Then I have to watch you go on dates and move on like itâs easy. Like the fact that weâre not together anymore doesnât eat you up inside.â
âItâs not easy! Itâs killing me!â Tears collect in your eyes, blurring your vision. âI donât know why I canât just be happy with you. I want to be happy with you.â
âWhat are you so afraid of?â Steve begs, his question punctuated by a boom of thunder and a flash of lightning.Â
You found solace in the eye of the storm. Once the storm passed, you didnât know what to do with the wreckage. Calm didnât provide comfort. Instead, it only reminded you that there was likely another storm to come. Steve has always been better at picking up the pieces and patching things up. You didnât want to become just another thing he had to fix. So, you pushed him away.Â
He still came back.
This time he brought the storm with him.Â
âIâm afraid that the minute I actually enjoy everything, itâll all get taken away from me.â You confess, roughly wiping away your tears.Â
Steve crosses the room and kneels in front of you. His hair is still slightly damp, a stray strand hanging in front of his forehead. You brush it out of the way and he catches your wrist, placing a kiss in the palm of your hand.Â
âIâm not going anywhere.â He murmurs, lips still brushing your skin. He says it like a promise. You wish the words were tangible, that you could close your fist around them and hold them close. âTell me what I can do to fix it.â
The words simultaneously endear and exasperate you. Here is this boy who loves you, sitting in front of you telling you to let him love you. Here you are, about to tell him that he canât.Â
âWhat if you canât fix it, Steve? What if Iâm unfixable?â
He doesnât respond immediately. Instead, he takes both of your hands in his, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles.Â
âThen Iâll still love you anyway.âÂ
Steve looks up and the clouds part. Youâve been so caught up in your doom and gloom, that youâd forgotten what it felt like to see the light of day. You lean down, closing your eyes, pressing your forehead to his.Â
âWhy?â The question comes out watery and wanting.Â
âI canât help it.â He breathes out.Â
You understand the feeling.Â
You bridge the gap, uncaring of the abyss that lies below. Youâd fall through eternity if it meant you got to do it with him. His lips feel exactly like you remember themâlike home. He kisses soft and slow, hands anchored at your hips as if to prevent you from floating away. When you break apart, both of you gasping for air, thereâs uncertainty in his eyes. It fades away as soon as you lean back on the bed, pulling at his sleeves and dragging him with you.Â
The night is composed of soft apologies and even softer sighs, accompanied by the din of rain against the roof. It isnât until far into the night that the storm finally subsides, leaving the pavement to glow in the morning sun.Â
Waking up next to Steve is a revelation. You donât know how you ever survived without it. Heâs all sleepy smiles and tired eyes, drowsily pulling you closer to him. Resting your head on his chest, youâre soothed by the rhythmic thump of his beating heart.  Â
âYâknow, you didnât have to walk in the rain just to say that you wanna get back together. Youâre so dramatic.â You joke, hoping that it isnât too soon to start poking fun.Â
His chest rumbles with laughter, the reverberations quelling your fears.
âIn my defense, it wasnât raining when I started walking.â He says, voice still thick with sleep. âBesides, you love it.â
You smile contentedly to yourself, not offering up a response besides a hum of agreement. Heâs right. You do love him. Rain or shine.
likes are appreciated, comments and reblogs are cherished â„ïž
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I knew youâd linger like a tattoo kiss
Warnings: major angst, breakups, heartbreak, allusions to cheating, self doubt, mean!Steve, King!Steve, hurt/comfort, love triangle, mentions of an ED, past trauma. Eddie x reader ending.
Parings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader | Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler
Summary: Steve was slipping through your fingers and you desperately held onto him not realizing that his heart wasnât yours anymore. Dealing with the aftermath of your breakup turns out to be harder than you thought. Steveâs presence still lingers and while he keeps a hold of your heart, someone else sneaks their way into it too.
prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen | part eighteen | part nineteen | part twenty | part twenty one | part twenty two | part twenty three | part twenty four | part twenty five | part twenty six | part twenty seven | part twenty eight | part twenty nine | part thirty | epilogue
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random headcanons about Steve
random headcanons about Eddie
headcanons about Cheer (reader)
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i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.
Summary: 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.
Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Word count: 8.8k
Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.
A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all <3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!
divider by firefly-graphics
August 1981
"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."
You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing.Â
"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."
He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard.Â
"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."
"I'll help you with your work," you say.Â
Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted.Â
"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."
Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it.Â
"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."
"You think?"Â
You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again.Â
"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks.Â
The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face.Â
"Why wouldn't we?"
"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."
You shove Steve's shoulder lightly.Â
"You are not dumb, Steve."
One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.
He had made you swear not to tell anyone.Â
"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."
His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you.Â
"Tommy says I am."
"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."
You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you.Â
âPromise?â he asks.
âYes, Steve. I promise.â
ââKay.â Steve smiles a little. âThanks.âÂ
You nod and lay back on the floaty.Â
âWanna get ice cream after this?â he asks.Â
âJust us?âÂ
âJust us.â
Now. (January, 1987)
You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you.Â
Whoops. Right. You're still at work.Â
You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing.Â
Youâve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink.Â
And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isnât it?Â
Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar.Â
âDude!â you hear a familiar voice exclaim. âStop hogging the game!â
Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy whoâs glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where â85.
âHey, Y/N!â he greets brightly. âThis guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.â
âIâm this close to beating my score!â the kid insists.
âCome on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."
The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.
âWhoâs gonna make me? You?âÂ
You lean against the side of the game, considering.
âHow old are you?â
âSixteen,â he says.
You snort.Â
âSixteen? And youâre still on Tempest?â
He glances at you.Â
âSo?â
âEverybody your age is playing Rampage, thatâs all.âÂ
You wink at Dustin. He beams.
âAnd, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,â you add.Â
The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently.Â
âSeriously?â he asks.
âSeriously. People always flock to the new games.â
Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesnât need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway.Â
You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight.Â
âYouâre awesome, Y/N!"Â
You grin. âI try. Where are the others?â
Dustin sours.
âThey ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?âÂ
âNo way!"
He shakes his head.
âI know, right? My friend told me that thatâs what happens in high school. People change, yâknow? And heâd know, I guess. Heâs old like you.â
You scoff. âYou make me sound like some kind of ancient. Iâm not that old, Henderson.â
âItâs okay, Y/N.â He pats your arm. âIn many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasnât been the case. But I think youâre wise.â
âGee, thanks.â
Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot.Â
âWell, contrary to what this other friend says, Iâm sure itâll pass,â you say. âYou guys will hang out again."Â
You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young.Â
Dustin shrugs, starting the game.
âI guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said theyâll be there.â
âWhoa, seriously? That one just came out, howâd you get a copy?â
âMy friend,â he says. âThe one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.â
âHuh. I thought Family Video was closed."
You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town.Â
"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."
"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."
âYeah,â Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. âMy friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."
"Would I now?"
"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered."Â
"Wow. Impressive."
"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.â
âYou would?â
The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.
âYeah, totally,â he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. âWhich one do you want?â
âPretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."
âSure. Iâll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.â
âCool. Thanks, Dustin.â
Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.
âGotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.â
"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."
"'Kay!"
Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family.Â
"Who do I ask for?"Â
"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"
"Unfortunately.â Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. âHe works there?"
"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."
Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck.Â
The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.
"Can I help who's next?"
You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!
"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says.Â
"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?"Â
You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler.Â
She nods in realization.Â
"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."
You wince.Â
"Sorry. If it's going to get you in troubleâŠ"
Her brows raise. She smiles a bit.Â
"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"
"Pretty in Pink," you say.Â
"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"
"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."
She grins.
"Me too. She's pretty."
"Super pretty," you agree.Â
The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand.Â
"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."
You take her hand. "Y/N.â
"Did you go to Hawkins High?"
"I did. Graduated last year."
"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"
You nod.Â
"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."
"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, Iâm gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"
"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."
You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest.Â
"How come?" she asks.Â
"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I⊠I just want a new start."
Robin smiles sympathetically.Â
"They're jerks," she says.Â
You huff. "Yeah."
You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore.Â
Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans.Â
"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."
"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from.Â
She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass.Â
You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on.Â
The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures.Â
"Have you been waiting long?"
You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter.Â
Steveâs hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font.Â
He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles.Â
"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."
You blink.
"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye.Â
"No," you manage.Â
"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?"Â
He doesn't remember you.Â
You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.
And he doesn't remember you.Â
"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.
You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve.Â
"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."
"I have to go," you say.Â
You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin.Â
Her brows rise.Â
"Oh. Is everythingâ"
"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."
"That's okay, we can justâ"
You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away.Â
Only there do you stop to catch your breath.Â
And then you cry.Â
February 1982
"What do you think about Marie?"Â
You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table.Â
"Marie Iverson?" you ask.
"Yeah."Â
Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it.Â
"I don't know. I don't know her that well."
"She's cute."Â
"I guess so," you say.Â
It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls orâ
"I was thinking of asking her out."
The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase.Â
"Shit, here. Take mine."Â
Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it.Â
"Y/N?"Â
"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."
"Sure. So what do you think?"Â
"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."
"I would, it's justâŠ" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."
Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before.Â
"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now.Â
"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."
"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."
Steve deflates.Â
"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."
You sigh and rub your temple.Â
"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."
"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never⊠you're, like, the only girl I really know."
Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.
"Y/N?"
"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?"Â
"Writing?"
"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."
"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."
He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention.Â
"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."
Steve laughs, nose scrunched.Â
"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, 's justâof course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."
"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words."Â
"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"
"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."
Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."
Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.
You shuffle your papers into a stack.Â
"Can we study now?" you ask.
"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."
"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."
He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.
"Lemme take you out," he says.Â
You nearly swallow your tongue.Â
"Whâwhat?"
"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."
"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."
Steve beams. "I'll drive you."
Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this yearânot that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do.Â
You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair.Â
Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back.Â
"Just us?" you check.Â
You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together.Â
"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?"Â
You check your watch and close your book.Â
"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later."Â
Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.)Â
"Please," he says. "For helping me."
Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."
Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends.Â
"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."
You perk up at that. "Really?"
"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?"Â
"Okay, Steve." You ache. Youâve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."
And maybe⊠maybe your best friend is still in there after all.
Now
You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs.Â
"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."
You might have overshot the perks, though.Â
Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses.Â
"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."
She shoots you a mean look.Â
"I'm complaining to the manager."
You paste on a smile.Â
"You do that. Have a nice day."
She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation.Â
Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile.Â
"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.
Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always.Â
You lean your elbows on the countertop.Â
"What'll it be, gang?"
"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."
You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes.Â
"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.
"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."
Dustin accepts this with no argument.Â
"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."
You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that.Â
He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking.Â
"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say.Â
"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?"Â
Lucas nods.Â
"Yup. They're both parents."
You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey.Â
"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."
"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."
"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"
Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you.Â
"What?"
"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains.Â
"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."
"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. IâI mean, that's what I heard, at least."
"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone.Â
Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie.Â
"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."
"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort.Â
"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared.Â
"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."
"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector."Â
Dustin nods eagerly.
You blink. "He protects you guys?"
Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly.Â
"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."
"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."
"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."
"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."
You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that.Â
"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."
"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."
"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?"Â
Dustin huffs. âYeah. They donât date. He wonât say why."
"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. âItâs obviously because heâs in love with somebody else.â
âNot Nancy!â Lucas protests.
âThere are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.â
You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change.Â
When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty.Â
"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"
"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."
"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"
"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."
"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.
"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business."Â
"And why can't your babysitter take you?"
You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional.Â
"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."
Now that sounds like the Steve you knew.Â
"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."
"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after weâre in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."
âThis would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,â Mike grumbles.
You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailorâs hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.
âUm,â you begin. âYou know I donât have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?â
âItâs cool. Weâll get there,â Max says.
âSo?â Dustin bounces on his toes. âSooo?â
You sigh. Itâd been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though youâd chickened out and ran. And itâs not like you have anything better to do.
âOkay,â you say. âIâll get you guys in.â
Dustin pumps his fist. âThanks, Y/N! Youâre my favorite old person.â
You roll your eyes. âFunny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.â
âByeeee!â
They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.
March 1983
âOkay, but if you had to choose.â
âPass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Colemanâs bald-ass head, Steve.â
Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. âSo youâre saying youâve got the hots for Benny the janitor.â
âNo!â you insist through giggles. âI donât. God, youâre gross. Canât believe Iâm being treated like this on your birthday.â
âExactly! My birthday.â
He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.
âSteve!â you yell. âCareful.â
âI am, I am,â he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. âJusâ wanna see you better.â
âI keep telling you you need glasses.â
âI do not,â he whines. âMy visionâs ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?â
He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool.Â
âShit,â he says.
You belly laugh in delight.
âWait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.â
âOh, as if. Iâm not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.â
"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."
You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy.Â
The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before youâre crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy.Â
âSteve!â You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. âGet off!â
"âM sleepy,â he mumbles.
âWell, don't sleep on me, weirdo.â
ââS cold.â
âYou run, like, a hundred degrees, donât lie.â
He lifts his head. âSo youâre saying Iâm hot?â
âIâm saying all that booze cooked your brain,â you reply sweetly.
âIâve been wounded,â he moans and plops onto your shoulder.
âUgh.â You resign to your fate and lean back. Steveâs not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and heâs situated himself so he isnât crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason.Â
âSteeeeve,â you whine. âYouâre gonna squish me into a pancake.â
âCanât believe no one else came.â
You still. Steveâs face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.
âI didnâtâdidnât want a party,â he continues. âI always throw parties. I thought Iâd do somethinâ different. Anâ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. âCept you.â
You rest your hand on the back of his hair. Itâs wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. Youâve never loved it more.
âDid you tell them your birthday is today?â you ask gently, even though you know he did.
âYeah,â he says. âTold all of âem. Guess they werenât listening.â
âI listen.â
Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.
âGod, I miss you,â he says.
You feel the wall youâve built this year crumble, just a little.Â
âIâm right here, Steve.â
âI know butâbeen a jerk lately. I know I have. Youâre my best friend, okay? Nothingâll change that. IâI love you so much.â
Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.
âAnd Iâll be better. Weâll hang out more. Notânot here, drunk. But for real. Weâll go to the movies. Yâwanna see a movie?â
âYeah,â you whisper. âI wanna see a movie.â
ââKay, what movie? Anything you want. Weâll get popcorn and Raisinets.â
âYou hate Raisinets,â you choke through a watery laugh.
âIâd eat Raisinets anytime with you.â
You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.
âLetâs watch the new James Bond.â
âHmm, okay. But youâll have to say the name eventually.â
Your nose crinkles. âI am not calling it by its name.â
His laugh is warm in your neck.Â
You donât tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.
Now
âWait.â Max stops. âShouldnât we have, like, a game plan?â
âGame plan?â El asks quietly.
âYeah. Some of us arenât so great at playing it cool.â
She stares at Lucas.
âI play it cool!â he squawks. âI am so cool!â
âRight.â
âJust let Y/N do the talking,â Will says. âSheâs technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.â
You shrug. âMakes sense to me.â
Dustin beams. âThis is gonna be great!â
âOr a total disaster,â Max says.
You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.
âSix tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,â you say. âAnd uh, one for Dirty Dancing.â
The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.
âDonât you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?â she asks. âItâs rated R.â
Shit. âRight, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend whoâs late.â
âUh-huh.âÂ
The attendant, whose bored expression youâve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning.Â
âI think weâre in the clear,â Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area.Â
You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so theyâre pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share.Â
âOkay, last stretch,â Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. âWe just have to get past the ticket guy.â
Said ticket guy is a kid who canât be much older than you. You think you mightâve gone to school together, but youâve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.
âHey,â you say, trying to act cool. Maybe youâre the one Max shouldâve been worried about, instead of Lucas. âUh, here are our tickets.â
He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.
âPrince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,â he says.
âIâm an adult, so Iâm with them,â you explain. âIâm, like, their guardian?â
âYeah, uhââ He hands you your tickets. âNo can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.â
âCome on,â you cajole. âTheyâre high schoolers. Itâs not like theyâre gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.â
He shrugs. âRules are rules.â
âSheâs an adult!â Dustin argues.
âLook, if youâre gonna hold up the line, Iâm gonna have toââ
âYo, Gillespie! That you?â
Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.
âHarrington, man, whatâs up!âÂ
Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.
âShit, I havenât seen you in a year! Whereâve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?â
Steve flinches. Itâs a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But itâs there all the same.
âGillespie, câmon. Donât bring the party down with that,â Steve says, all sweet charm.Â
âSorry, sorry. Daisy,â he greets the girl attached to Steveâs arm.
âGil,â she replies with a giggle. âYou smell like popcorn butter.â
Americaâs future taxpayers. Terrifying.Â
âAre you gonna let us in or not?â Max interrupts, arms folded.Â
You feel a burst of pride.
Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.
âGillespie, listen. I know her.â He points to you. You bristle. âI can personally vouch that sheâs just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, yâknow? Get away from the parents.â
âItâs a sick film,â Gil agrees. âYou seen it?â
No, of course Steve hadnât seen it. He hates horror.Â
âPlanning on it,â Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. âLook, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?â
Max rolls her eyes. Youâre inclined to do the same.
Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. âHell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.â
Steve smiles thinly. âSure was. So whaddya say? For old timesâ sake?â
Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.
âWhy not. Managerâs not here anyway.â
He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.
âTheater six. On your left. Enjoy.â
The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket.Â
âAppreciate it, man,â Steve says, all smiles. âTake care, alright?â
âHey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!â
Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.
âIâll catch up, okay?â he tells her. âFind us some good seats?â
She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you.Â
âHey,â he says. âSorry about that. Gilâs an asshole.â
âI know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.â
Steve shrinks. âYour poems were great.â
Youâre suddenly exhausted.
âWhat do you want, Steve?â
âI just⊠I wanted to see you. Say hi.â
âOkay.â You cross your arms. âHi.â
âYou forgot your movie,â he says. âThe other day.â
âI didnât want it that much.â
âDustin said you looked everywhere for it.â
âWell, in the end, it didnât really matter,â you say. âNot enough to stay.â
âY/Nââ
âI think your dateâs waiting for you,â you interrupt. âBetter get back to her. Wouldnât want to taint your reputation.â
Steve makes a noise like heâs been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it.Â
âWait.â He catches your wrist. Steveâs grip is light, like youâre something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. âY/N, I want to apologize. Iâm sorry.â
âFor what?â you ask. âFor forgetting me? I didnât expect you to remember, Steve.â
âI didnât forget you,â he insists. âI could never forget you. I wasnâtâplease, can I just explain?â
âI donât need your explanations,â you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. âI know what happened. We were both there. You left.â
Steveâs eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. Youâd thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.
So you run. Again.Â
You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting.Â
You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if youâre not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?
So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.
Now it is two in the afternoon. Youâd heard it was supposed to snow today.
Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.
"Slushie?"
She looks at you like sheâd forgotten you were there. "What?"
You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"
"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actuallyâ"
Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth.Â
You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless itâs to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese.Â
"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.
Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"
"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?"Â
Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too.Â
"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava.Â
"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tomâ"
"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."
Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none.Â
"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."
"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."
You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head.Â
"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."
"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those arenât the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."
Robin smiles a sad smile.Â
"I know," she says. "Weâre not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."
The thought turns your stomach. More? More you werenât there to protect him from?
"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."
"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because youâre important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."
"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble.Â
"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."
You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.
"If you two areâ"
"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met."Â
"Yeah, Iâve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."
Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."
You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot.Â
"This town is so shit," you say.Â
"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."
"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."
Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."
"I can sometimes be an asshole."
"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?"Â
You laugh. "We'll get jackets."
"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle.Â
You look at the tape in your hand.Â
"Does Steve like John Hughes?"Â
"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."
He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved.Â
"I did want to watch this one," you say.Â
"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises.Â
You suppose not.
December 1984
You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.
Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on.Â
Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap.Â
Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. Youâre so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You mightâve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.
You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't.Â
A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybodyâs moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself.Â
You can't care less. Once upon a time you mightâve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.
Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been.Â
"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."
There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie.Â
It bothers me, youâd replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.
Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not.Â
Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy.Â
Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life.Â
No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.
You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault.Â
But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him.Â
You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital.Â
Now (And Forever)
The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You donât know what Family Videoâs return policy is, but you hope youâre not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.
Itâs Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.
The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steveâs house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtonsâ sign-off. Steveâs hand would cramp and youâd take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it.Â
Hi, the letter begins. I hope youâre good. Robin told me youâre going to Hawkins State.
Thatâs fucking amazing. Iâm so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.
Iâm sorry for the other night. Iâm sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. Iâm kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesnât really excuse anything. I think Iâve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.
You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him heâs dumb? You want names.
I didnât forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and⊠well. I donât blame you for running.
Anyway. Iâm talking too much about myself, when thereâs nothing to say. Iâm really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didnât do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasnât really living at all. I think it was you.Â
Iâm not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that youâre the best fucking thing thatâs ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck.Â
But I miss you. I always have.
Shit happened these last few years that Iâll tell you about one day, if you want. Iâd rather not, though, because youâve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said itâs an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.
I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and youâll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships.Â
Fuck, I miss you. Itâs always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. Iâm sorry I didnât write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we canât say. You were right. You always are. Canât believe I forgot that.Â
Itâs okay if you donât want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I canât believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that Iâm golden and. Well, I donât know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.
Iâve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think Iâm doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, youâre going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure youâll be far away when you do it.Â
I didnât want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. Youâve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.
You should watch Dirty Dancing. Youâll like it. I did. Iâll see it again if you want. Iâll watch anything with you.
Did you know thereâs another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.
Sincer
Lo
Your friend,
Steve
You donât bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steveâs letter in hand.Â
You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he canât say them or because you wonât listen.
It isnât too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steveâs house looks frozen in time: his parentsâ car isnât in the driveway. You wonder if theyâve ever come back since youâve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.
Thereâs a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You canât sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You donât think strangers can sneak through pool gates.
You knock on the door three times. And wait.
Steveâs car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.
The door swings open.Â
Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine.Â
âI got your letter,â you say.
âOh.â He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like heâs just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you.Â
âI donât want to be friends,â you continue before he can speak. âI donâtâI canât do that again.â
Steveâs mouth draws into the saddest frown youâve ever seen.
âOkay,â he says softly. âThank you for telling me.â
âNo.â You shake your head. âNo, thatâs notâI donât mean it like that.â
His brows knit. âWhat?â
âIâŠâ You pull out the letter and wave it. âDid you mean it? Do you love me?â
âYes,â Steve whispers. Itâs like a shout in the quiet street. âI meant it.â
âLike a friend?â
âIf thatâs what you want.â
âWill you love me like a friend forever?â you ask.Â
âAlways.âÂ
You squeeze your eyes shut.
âI love you as something more,â you blurt, watery. âI have for a long time.â
You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothingâ
âThen Iâll love you as something more back,â Steve says. âIâll love you any way you want me to.â
And he holds you the way youâd held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. Youâve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.
âI missed you,â you confess.
Steve nods against your shoulder.
âYeah,â he says, and it sounds a little wet. âI missed you too.â
âYou were wrong,â you say into his neck.
âHmm?â
You pull back to look at Steve.
âIncredible things do happen in Hawkins.â
âOh, yeah?â Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. âLike what?â
âWe found each other again.â
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MAKE IT EASY : ÌÌâ STEVE HARRINGTON
ă»â„ă»part 1ă»part 2 â„ă»3.8k words
Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?
requested by my beloved @stevebabey đ„ș
a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.
ă»â„ă»
It was the epitome of a terrible idea.
And it had started that day.Â
The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work â not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.
You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.
Weird.
"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."
It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because â luckily â things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.
He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kindaâŠThere's something I wanted to-"
You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine, justâŠcan we talk?"
"Of course."
He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"
For Steve, of course you could.
Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.
He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."
Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"
Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest andâŠvulnerable?
"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish⊠but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it.Â
Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?
"But why would you-"
"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."
"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?"Â
You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.
Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground.Â
"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me likeâŠwell, you know how they treat me."
Indeed, you knew.
Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.
And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.
+
It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.
But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.  Â
Why are you trying so hard, though?
"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.
There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise. Â
With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake.Â
You're late.Â
Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself intoâŠyou just can't reach it.
The doorbell rings.
The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?     Â
You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.
HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve.Â
You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help â mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.
"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"Â Â Â
Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.
"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.
You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes. Â
"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words.Â
If he notices, he doesn't say anything. Â
Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne â citrusy fruit and wood notes â as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.   Â
For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipperâŠor something else entirely.Â
His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.
"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."Â Â
You laugh.  Â
"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."
A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door... Â
Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of youâŠ
Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.
"Thank you... for the flowers."
The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.  Â
"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"
Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none. Â
"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."
It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner. Â Â
So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.
"You okay?"Â Â
Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes. You must have taken too long.
"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"
Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.
You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.
"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.
Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parentsâŠbut why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"
There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.
"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"
"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"
He looks away for a moment before answering.
"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."
You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.
"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."
Steve smiles briefly and nods.
"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."
You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.
Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.
As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.
The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.
It's not like you expected anything different.
"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."
"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."
Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.
Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.
All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.
You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."
Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.
Thank you, he mouths.
You smile back.
During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.
Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at leastâŠunusual.
As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.
By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.
As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.
"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."
You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?
As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.
"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.
In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.
When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after youâ out of politeness, mind you â said it's really not necessary.Â
"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."
You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."
"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration thereâŠmaybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.
The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one nightâŠdoesn't it?
Are you imagining this?
"Steve..."
You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.
He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skinâŠ.and then it's over.
Steve pulls back slowly.Â
"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank youâŠfor today."
"You're welcome."
It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind.Â
WellâŠshit.
The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors â which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.
With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.
"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.
Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.
Well, too late.
"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"
His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.
"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"
"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."
"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."
He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.
"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.
"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."
You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.
He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.
Breathe in.Â
The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.
Breath out.Â
You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean toâŠbut he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.
"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"
"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."
I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.
However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck â because of course  it had to â the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.
"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."
There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.
Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.
"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."
Oh.
"Steve-"
Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.
"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.
Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.
"I did it!"
His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close â and technically partly undressed â you are.
And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.
Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.
Kissing.
Did he notice that too?
You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, wellâŠno matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.
"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybeâŠ
Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next.Â
So close...
You hold still.
In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing.Â
"SteveâŠ" you slowly tilt your head to the side.
Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more.Â
He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closerâŠbut he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.
He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."
Bam.
Door closed.
And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.
He justâŠpulled away.Â
What the hell was that?
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I SHOULD HATE YOU
steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: [22.3k]
warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, reader and steve use foul language towards each other (bitch, asshole, ect). blood (one of them gets hurt...but not bcs of each other), eventual smut (oral: both m and f receiving, fingering, piv, multiple o's,) minors gtfo before i superkick you!!!
summary: You and Steve Harrington hate each otherâs gutsâŠor at least you should, that is until a camp outing reveals everything that you both have been trying to hide.
You desperately wanted to see what everyone else saw in Steve Harrington that you didnât. All those words of how he changed so much and had this entire redemption arc when he decided to finally stop giving shit about stupid high school social orders and commit his life to be the esteemed and reliable babysitter.
Hell, even Robin Buckley, the one girl who really couldnât stand him a few years ago, was now his best friend, and Nancy Wheeler, his ex-girlfriend, could actually stand to be in his presence without wanting to cringe and vomit because she actually dated him.Â
You just couldnât see it in him no matter how hard you tried, not even the kids could convince you that Steve wasnât all that bad anymore. If anything they gushed about how much they admired him. How he was the cool older brother figure that they all wanted and had wrapped around their fingers ready at their beck and call.
Everyone loved Steve, but to you it was just bullshit.
âWhy the sad face, doll?â
Steve pouted feignedly, causing you to roll your eyes, slapping the flies away from your skin as you watched him pitch his stupid tent.
âIâm not sad. Iâm more so annoyed.â You grunted out with a glare.Â
âI told you to bring bug spray.â He reminded shaking his head, clearly amused seeing you get angry at the innocent flies.
âI did, but it doesnât fucking work and for your information, Iâm annoyed because youâre here.â You said through gritted teeth, slapping your neck as another one landed but flew away before you could kill it.
Steve snapped the poles into place, engrossed with his task.
âWell if it makes you feel any better,â he chimed in, standing with a straight smirk across his face, âIâm not particularly happy with your presence either seeing as though youâre not doing shit besides standing there being a bitch.â
Your eyes widened, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at him in disbelief. But by this point it shouldnât have been so surprising granted that you and Steve never stopped bickering, even when you both should have known to ignore each other.Â
âOh, go fuck yourself, Harrington!â You shouted, turning on your heel and flipping him the bird as you walked away.
âTell that to my right hand, sweet cheeks!â He called out with a whistle, reveling in the art of getting under your skin.
Nance and Jonathan exchanged amused glances, painfully familiar with how much you and Steve despised each other yet somehow got here alive without slitting each other's throats. But that didnât seem like it was going to be lasting long seeing as though this was now the beginning to a very long night.
You plopped down onto the foldable chair, still wearing a scowl that didnât seem to want to cease even with the distance you created between you and him.
âWe barely got here and youâre already at each other's throats.â
Nancy shook her head not understanding why you both couldnât be adults about this whole thing.
âHe started it!â You insisted, pointing your finger in his direction.
Jonathan couldnât help but jump in with a chuckle, feeling as if this was payback for all those times he and his brother Will gave his mom a hard time. Seriously, dealing with you both was identical to watching two toddlers tattle tale on each other for every little thing before toys and fists were thrown.Â
âSo now youâre playing the blame game?â He suspected.
You clicked your tongue, sitting up straighter, shoulders pulled back as you crossed your legs and placed your hands on top of your knees, ready to mock Steve and his privileged life that he just had to leave behind for the day.Â
âWhy couldnât he just have stayed home in his stupid mansion, driving around in his stupid Beemer, where he could be stupid all by himself and leave us out of his stupid stupidity.âÂ
You seriously looked like you could end him with your bare hands â and if they didnât know better theyâd let you have a go at it just to see how far you would get. Surely Steve would put up a good fight too, probably make it quick and easy so he didnât have to hear your voice anymore, but you would definitely be taking your time with him.Â
âHeâs the only one whoâs ever been camping and if something happens then heâll know what to do.â
Nancy attempted to reason with you, hoping you could see it through just this once, for just a couple hours.
You shrugged your shoulders, watching him in your peripheral vision.
âWhatever, as long as he stays away from me then I can make it through the next 24 hours.â You waved off.Â
But Jonathan lugged up a box, plopping it before your feet with a loud clatter coming from inside of it, staring at you with a smile.Â
âIf you want to make it to at least tonight, Iâd suggest you start getting to work.â
Cursing under your breath, you were beginning to rethink your choices of saying âyesâ to trip when you had not one outdoorsy bone in your body and surely no bone, not even a cell that could stand Steve Harrington.
But getting it pitched up yourself wasnât all that bad considering the fact that the instructions were self explanatory and had images to make it easy to follow. It was that nagging, infuriating voice that belonged to Steve that was getting on your last nerve. Like a mosquito in your ear, he kept buzzing and buzzing andâ
âTry again, youâre holding the pole backwards, smarty pants!â He called out, smirking to himself when you tried to ignore him by shutting him out and doing it at your own pace.
But ignoring him only fueled his determination to keep going, poking and prodding at your patience that was withering away by the second. Every snarky smartass remark was like nails on a chalkboard, causing your eye to twitch, teeth to grind, and self-restraint to grow weaker.Â
âYour tent is gonna fly away in the middle of the night if you donât make use of those stakes!â
âYou shoulda listened to me, I told you that pole was in the wrong slot!â
âHow about you put a little elbow grease into it and stop trying to put it together like youâre the goddamn princess of the camp ground!â
Your blood was damn nearly boiling, knuckles going white as you shoved the stupid pole into the other side, trying to get the frame to stay together. But your anger and rushing only made it worse, the wobbling frame threatening to give out on itself if you tried to force it in anymore than you already had. His whiny voice and every taunt that came with it just made you want to take the pole and use it for something else â silencing him.
Nancy and Robin had scolded Steve multiple times, knowing that your fuse with him was ridiculously short. Eddie and Jonathan, well-acquainted with your dynamic, kept their distance, observing from the sidelines not wanting to be caught in the impending storm between you two.
Eddie watched you carefully, your jaw clenching, air pushing out of your nostrils and he was sure that if it was humanly possible there would be a hot steam coming from the top of your head.Â
âKnock it off, man, sheâs getting pissed.â He warned his friend, taking a swig of his beer, while he darted between you both.
Steve however, wasnât threatened in the slightest, continuing to provoke you with another snide comment.Â
âShe wonât be pissed for long if a bear comes and mauls her in the middle of the night because she doesnât know how to pitch a damnââ
That was the last straw.
âIâm gonna fucking kill you!â You screamed, ripping off the pole and storming towards Steve not caring how insane you looked.
Eddie quickly got on his feet, dropping his beverage and intervening just in time.Â
âNot so fast!â He lifted you off the ground holding you back as Jonathan managed to wrangle the pole out of your hands.
Steve was having a fit of laughter, hunching over himself and grabbing at his midsection.
âYouâre so easy to piss off.â He cackled, shaking his head at you and giving himself an imaginary point for already getting under your skin in the first hour of being there.
âYouâre such an asshole!â You fumed, continuing to struggle in Eddie's grasp.
He kept his hold tight knowing if there was any room left for you to get away, it would most likely end with warfare. And while he and your friends never liked to come in between your tumultuous relationship, they knew letting you both rip each other apart wouldn't do anyone good â even if it gave them some peace. Â
Nancy had had enough â the trip was supposed to be peaceful, getting to be one with nature and finally getting away from the kids for once, but of course, that wouldnât happen seeing as though you and Steve acted like children possessed.
âEnough!â She shouted, bringing temporary silence as you both could feel the seriousness in her voice.
âYouâre right, Steve is an asshole and because he feels so sorry, what heâs gonna do is finish pitching up your tent while we go to the lake to cool off. Got it?â
She turned towards him, her eyes widening, signaling Steve to comply for the sake of peace just this once.
But instead, he protested, standing up defiantly, âHell no! I wouldnât even pitch her tent ifââ
âIâm not asking you, Iâm telling you.â Nancy interrupted, not leaving any room for negotiation because at this point it was futile.
Robin gestured to the partially completed frame with a small shrug.
âItâs the least you can do, half of it is already done.â She said, hoping to lighten his mood about it.Â
Reluctantly Steve huffed, glaring as he made his way over to you, faces only inches apart as everyone began to sigh, seeing as though youâd both be starting again. Eddie gripped you tight, not even giving you any wiggle room to try anything.
âYouâre lucky Robinâs staying in your tent because if she wasnât, I wouldnât even think about finishing it.â Steve rasped begrudgingly smirking because you were a prisoner in shackles.
But you jutted your neck forward as if you were about to headbutt him which caused him to flinch back, holding his arm out front of his body. That alone made you cackle, just a taste of what you could have done to get him to shut up.
âGet to work, boy scout.â You sneered.Â
Throwing Eddieâs arms off your midsection, you brushed right past him going towards your bag to get out a bikini to change into while the rest of them whispered their scoldings, particularly punctuating the importance of Steve not messing with you anymore because they couldnât stand it.
Jonathan nudged Steveâs shoulder, a pleading expression on his face.
âWould it kill you to not be such a dickhead to her for one whole day?â
Steve dramatically gasped, wrapping his arms around his own neck pretending to suffocate, âY-yes⊠I-I canât breathe, no oxygen!â
His best friend rolled her eyes, unimpressed with his childish behavior âYouâre such a dweeb, I swear.â she said, smacking the top of his head as she walked past him and followed you to the bathrooms.
âYou heard her, get to work.â
Nance snapped her fingers, pointing sharply at the tent hoping that for once heâd listen.
Jonathan and Eddie decided to serve as watch guards knowing that if no one was here to watch him and make sure he did what he was told, he would probably let you sleep with a half assed tent while Robin stayed with him and Eddie.Â
Maybe all you needed was to get as far away as possible from him⊠for as long as you could.
Stepping into the lake, the water felt nice against your skin, cooling down the sizzling blood still rushing in your veins and easing your body to a state of relaxation. If you closed your eyes hard enough and let the sun bask down on your face, you could pretend as if he wasnât just a few feet away from you, grumbling like a whiny child forced into time out to write a hundred sentences.
You honestly shouldâve known better than to agree to come along the trip knowing Steve was going to infect it with his existence, but your friends had convinced you otherwise, selling it as an opportunity to get out of Hawkins for a weekend and just enjoy each otherâs company.
If you had known that Steve was going to be even more of a pain in the ass than usual, you would have never even thought about getting into Eddie van and driving all the way here with no other means to leave.
âI just donât understand how heâs nice to everyone but you.â Robin pondered aloud, trying to understand the mystery between your relationship.
âItâs because he wants me dead, Robin, simple as that.â You deadpanned, seeing no other explanation to it other than pure hatred.
âDonât be ridiculous, he doesnât want you dead.â Nancy laughed, brushing off your comment knowing that Steve didnât hate you that much.
âOh my bad, I meant that he wants me to suffer a long excruciating death by letting his ego take up all the space in the room.â
Your voice leaked of sarcasm, eliciting laughs from the girls who found humor in what you saw as the truth.
Robin and Nancy knew there was no way the both of you could really hate each other as much as you both liked to think you did. If you really did hate each other for real, then you wouldnât even dare to tolerate each other's presence but you both did â and while sure most times it was for the sake of your friends, by now one of you shouldâve been fed up enough to leave.
Their laughter faded, Robin staring at you with a mischievous smirk as you waded in the water, enjoying the temporary peace. Perhaps she could be out of line with the thoughts brewing up in her head, but it was just a theory â a possible reasoning for you and Steveâs differences.
âDid you ever stop and think that maybe you two might get along better if you liked each other in a different way?â She wiggled her brows before biting her lip.Â
And like that, the peace was gone.
âAbsolutely fucking not!â You shouted, rejecting it with clear disgust as you began splashing her in retaliation.
She giggled some more, trying to shield herself from the large splashes as Nancy swam off to the side, happy that at least you were having some fun now, even if the conversation still revolved around Steve. Robin swam through the splashes, wrapping her hands around yours to make them stop before you both began laughing, letting her hug you as an apology for her words.
âYouâre so lucky I love you.â You grumbled, leaning closer to her to rest your cheek against her shoulder.
âOpposites attract, you know.â She continued to tease and you poked at her side, glaring half jokingly.
âNot him and I.â You declared sternly, gaze moving back up to the shore where the men still gathered near your tent.
It was nice not having to watch you stick your nose up and complain about the flies as if it was the end of the world. Without you in his ear and sights, he could finally enjoy just a smidge of the day, even if it was pitching his mortal enemyâs tent. If he didnât think about it too much, heâd forget that it would be keeping you safe and youâd wake up the next morning, living another day to make his life miserable.
Tugging the tarp into place, he zipped it up and down making sure it slid smoothly before dusting off his hands and taking a step back to examine your his work. He tilted his head, shrugging his shoulders not in the mood to fix the lousy frame.
âBesides the crooked roof, itâs not that bad.â He announced, more so glad that his punishment was over.
Jonathan grinned, patting him on the back with a hopeful look as if this was the turning point.
âWell you should tell her she didnât do a bad job then! Say something nice to her for once.â
Steive chortled looking over to him in disbelief before wagging his finger mockingly.
âOver my dead body.â
Jonathan sighed, sliding away from him and going to grab another beer for himself. Slowly but surely he was giving up on the idea of trying to get you and Steve to get along for the weekend. At this point, he and Nanceâs plan was failing terribly, seeing as though neither of you said one good thing to each other all day and it probably would never happen.
Eddie rolled his eyes, resting his back against the tree as he watched you and the girls spinning in the water enjoying yourselves.
âWhy canât you both just put your differences aside and get along?â He wondered, seeing as though you were both capable of being happy, just why not with each other.
Steve darted his eyes up to his obviously, âSheâs had it out for me since day one. Never liked me and never even tried to.â
Walking over to your bags, he picked them up along with Robinâs placing them in the tent, but he more so threw yours in, not giving a damn if the tent shook with it.
Eddie sighed, going over to fix it nicely into a corner when Steve turned away.
âTo be fair, you havenât tried to like her either so the odds were never going to be in your favor to begin with.â Jonathan pointed out truthfully.
How were the both of you ever going to get along if you held so much against each other without trying to see it through?
âYou sure you donât have a thing for her deep down? They always say that people who hate each other really just have to settle their differences in bed so they can see eye to eye.â Eddie snickered, patting his back stiffly.Â
The thought alone made Steve sick. Kissing you? Hugging you? Actually enjoying your existence? That sounded like a nightmare from hell if heâd ever dreamt one. Eddie and Jonathan found it a bit comical, even taking notice of their friends silence, his mind thinking up all the dirty andâ
A hard smack landed on Eddieâs arm.
âI donât know where the hell you heard that from, but I wouldnât even sleep with her if we were the last two people on Earth.â Steve sneered, nose sticking up with disgust.
Edide rubbed at the skin, he and Jonathan watched as Steve walked away, tugging his shirt off and beginning to make his way into the lake without another word. They knew it was inevitable, the hatred that was brewing in his bones for you, was just a ploy for something else â something you and him didnât see quite but everyone else did.
âTwenty they finally kiss?â Jonathan challenged, turning to him with an open hand.
Eddie cackled, smirking smugly.
âTwenty-five they end up hooking up tonight,â he added to the wager and to the lines that you and him would cross.
âDeal.â
You rolled your eyes, detaching yourself from Robin catching the sight of Steve inching his way into the lake. Soon after Jonathan and Eddie followed suit, running in like chickens with their heads cut off and splashing all of you with their boy-ness.
It frustrated you more than the way it should have made you angry â the way all your friends could seamlessly get along with him as if he wasn't the worst person you ever met. He even embraced Jonathan in a bromance hug as if at one point in their lives they didnât despise each other for the girl they both liked.
It was so⊠confusing?
You let them bask in the presence of Steve, knowing that while you didnât enjoy time with him, you would never try to rob the rest of your friends from it. Instead you went off on your own, going in just a bit deeper for some privacy as they lingered a few feet behind you.
âDonât go too far out!â Nancy called out to you knowing you werenât the best swimmer.
âI know, mom!â You singsonged, looking up at the sky and taking it all in â random cloud shapes and the birds that flocked above.
The camp ground was two hours out from Hawkins, tucked away in a nicer part of town, of course, Steve was the one who suggested the place. Nevertheless it was actually breathtaking, a nice contrast to the small town that you all came from which didnât have a lake that compared to this, just good oleâ Loverâs Lake and Sattler Quarry.
This would probably be your first and last time camping, so you were trying to make the most of it, not letting the little scuffle totally ruin your experience. You had wished you brought your polaroid along, wanting to snap photos of the view to remember it by but in hindsight it was better to live in the moment.
âLetâs play sharks and minnows!â Robin announced cheerfully, wanting to seize the moment and do something fun she remembered from childhood.
You didnât pay them any mind, your silence serving as an answer that youâd be sitting that game out and enjoying watching them instead.
Steve cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting loudly, âI call shark!â
They erupted in shrieks, splashing their way farthest from Steve, getting a head start since he was a skilled swimmer.Â
Eddie, who was a distance away yelled out, âReady, set, go!â
Steve didnât even bother mapping out everyone else, they werenât his prey, you were.
âBetter get moving, princess!â
Steve wore an irritatingly smug look, catching your eyes before he dove under the water and made his way towards you.
Your eyes widened, flaring your arms back as you attempted to doggy paddle away from him but it was obvious that he had the upper hand with his skill set. The tips of your toes started to slip from the ground, water pushed up to your collarbones as you still tried to get away from him without drowning.
It was futile trying to lose him, you didnât even dare to inch further back knowing by then the water would submerge you fully. Instead you opted to sweep the water against him the closer he got to you, though he was unaffected by it still swimming with ease.
âSteve, stop! Go away!â You shouted, kicking your legs trying to get him back.
âGotcha!â He grinned, popping his head out of the water to stand up straight and wrap his arms around your midsection
You pushed at his chest, trying to get away. âYou dickwad! I wasnât even playing!â
âToo bad!â He stuck his tongue out at you, gripping your skin just a tad tighter and hoisting your legs around his hips.
âSteve put me down, I swear to fuckingâŠoh my god!â You exclaimed, quickly moving your arms around his neck when you felt the woosh of water against your back when he moved you both deeper into the water.
You watched your friends over his shoulder become smaller and smaller, until they were little specks on the shore waving with shit eating grins on their faces knowing that Steve wouldnât actually do anything to hurt you.
Despite how disgusted you were being so close to him, you had no choice but to hang on for dear life. Steve gave you a bit of height with you over his hips, and had it not been for that, youâd be drowning by now.
âS-Steve, please I canât swim!â You begged, eyes finally daring to meet him and for once you werenât looking at him with such disgust but with desperation.
His face contorted with surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth held wide open before tugging up into a lopsided smirk.
âNever thought Iâd ever hear that word come out of your mouth⊠let me hear it one more time?â
His grip barely went slack as you whimpered, using your legs to jerk him back to you before you slapped his chest, fingers gripping his biceps under the water and letting your nails dig painfully into his skin.
âGet me back to the shallow! Right now!â You growled, watching as he winced a bit hissing in a sharp breath feeling the sting.
Seriously, if you were a better swimmer, youâd be out of his grasp by now and holding his head underwater until he floated like dead weight. He had the advantage over you, but youâd be damned if you didnât at least put up a fight.
âWhatâs the magic word?â He teased, exhaling as your nails eased out of his skin yet somehow you still held on to him not wanting to take a risk no matter how revolting he was.
âI. hate. you!â You screamed, starting to thrash around in his arms hoping that your struggle would annoy him so much that heâd bring you back to the shallow just so he wouldnât have to deal with you.
But instead, he loosened his grip again, using it against you because just as he suspected, you seized your movements immediately, looped your hands around his neck, clinging to him like a koala.
âStill waiting on that magic word.â He singsoned, not being too cruel this time around, wrapping his arms securely around your frame, not actually thinking heâd ever let you go.
You hoped your friends couldnât read your lips from there or else you wouldnât hear the end of it.
âPlease.â You gave in, whispering it against his neck.
The hair on the back of his neck stood tall, shivers creeping up his spine feeling a twinge of sympathy for you, but not too much to spare, when you cursed his name right after the fact. Satisfied, he spun around, guiding the two of you back to the bank where you were more comfortable.
Letting out a breath of relief, you relaxed your arms and slightly loosened your legs from around his waist, a little surprised at yourself for being able to stand his skin sticking to yours for so long. This was the most contact you and Steve had ever endured with each other. All of the previous encounters consisted of you smacking him and him chasing you with something gross like a dead roach.
âYou didnât think Iâd actually let you drown, did you?â Steve asked, looking down at you.
You rolled your eyes, staring up at him past your lashes. âI donât know, youâre quite the asshole so I thought so.â
He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tsking disapprovingly.
âSuch a shame you think so lowly of me,â he said acting hurt as rolled your eyes yet again, âhereâs payback for earlier.â
His arms abruptly left your body, letting you actually slip out of his hold watching as you went down with a screech that quickly died. You shut your eyes tightly, arms pushing yourself up to the surface where you coughed roughly, his stupid laughter filling your ears when you came to.
âI still hate you!â
You huffed, splashing him once more before trudging towards your friends who watched with glee, thankful for the five minutes of free entertainment that didnât involve them.
Steve stood where he was, arms crossed, face dripping with lake water, but still wearing a wide smile, more than happy with his little stunt and the fact that he got your blood pressure rising. Something about riling you up, filled him up with a sort of satisfaction, yet he wouldnât ever admit that you were the only person who could get under his skin the same way he did you.
Surprisingly enough, he stayed away from you during the rest of the time in the lake. Instead, he bothered Eddie and Robin with his stupid ideas to race across the lake and find the biggest pebble to see who could skip it the farthest.
Thankfully for you, you got the bathe in the sunlight, enjoying conversation with Jonathan and Nancy who at first bothered you about the whole you in his arms thing, but eventually gave up when you gave them the death stare. You obviously were holding back something considering you never missed a beat to berate Steve, but this time around, you didnât even want to get into it â they wondered why?
As the sun slowly began to tumble, casting oranges and pinks in the sky, you felt your fingertips becoming overly pruney, cueing your desire to get out and get freshened up for the evening.
âIâm gonna go wash up.â You announced raising a hand over your forehead to block the light as you stared out at them in the water.
âWeâll be out in a bit!â Robin called through her laughter, continuing her fun in chasing Eddie and Jonathan around in the water with a stick she had found.
You carefully tiptoed through the rocks, making your way up to the camp ground. The tent wasnât half bad, and to your surprise Steve had actually followed through on his task of finishing it. Youâd guess that if he wasnât so intimidated by Nancy and her threats, he wouldnât even think about doing it, nevertheless at least now you could say Steve did something useful for you for once, even if it was against his will.
Your bag was already conveniently placed in your tent, so you grabbed your toiletries, a clean towel, and your change of clothes before you walked over to the communal bathrooms where the showers were also located. Thankfully it was just you and your friends on the grounds, so it was fairly clean and had more privacy than usual which was always nice.
You pulled the curtains to one of the stalls back, assessing the area before putting your things down on the shelf and hanging your towel on the railing, stepping in and pulling the curtains closed. Stripping off your swimwear, you wringed out the excess water and hung them on the adjacent wall letting them air dry for the time being.
Cranking the lever, the shower head spritzed alive, letting semi-warm water sprinkle across your skin, rinsing you free of the lake water. You hummed to yourself, raking your fingers through the knots and tangles of your hair, doing your best to get them out before rubbing the skin over your neck and chest.
âYou really should have picked the stall away from the sunlight.â
Steveâs voice echoed, halting his footsteps in the doorway as he stared at the figure behind the curtain, the only other person in here was you and he could definitely tell by your pedicured toes peeking under the gap of the shower.
Clenching your jaw, your hands stopped its movements over your body, turning your head over your shoulder as you were met with Steveâs shadow staring right on the other side. If you squinted hard enough you could make out the smirking features on his face, but to your obvious surprise all you could do was shriek.
âOh my god!â You shielded yourself with your arms as if that would help, seeing as though the curtain alone wasnât doing its job of saving you your dignity.
He held his hands up, gesturing his arm up and down at the curtain.
âRelax, I can only see your shadow because of the sun.â He explained nonchalantly, walking into the stall beside yours and switching the water on.
You swallowed, still not trusting him completely as you stepped forward, peeling back the curtain a bit to see if anyone else was coming that way.
âAre the rest of them coming? I need to save myself the embarrassment and move to another stall if they are.â You asked rapidly, really hoping that neither of your friends or any visitors would be greeted with your naked silhouette the second they stepped in there.
âTheyâre playing chicken in the lake so no, they wonât be coming any time soon.â He responded, sounding actually sincere for once, because while he enjoyed messing with you, he still respected your privacy enough to know setting you up like that wasnât cool.
See⊠there were boundaries between your hatred, probably ones so low the bar was on the floor...but they were boundaries.
âThank god.â You sighed, tugging the portion of the curtain closed and walking back into the stream of the water, squeezing some shampoo into your hands as you began lathering it through your scalp.
âBy the way, are your tits pierced or were you just excited to see me?â
Your eyes widened, a gasp leaving your mouth while your fingers stopped. His incessant laughter bounced off the walls and rang in your ears like the worst kind of pain, wishing you had taken your chances earlier and at least tried to drown him.
âYouâre such a pig!â You said, banging your hands on his side of the wall until his laughter died down scoffing.
He grunted, tapping your wall back harder. âLearn how to take a joke and stop getting your panties in a twist.â
âWhatâs a joke is that rumor about you being so largely endowed.â You began pretending to gag.
âI heard Stacy Burnham asked you if it was even in and when you said yes she was so disappointed.â You sassed sharply, hoping it would embarrass him enough to shut up.
âI didnât even hook up with Stacy Burnham!â He retorted ridiculously, knowing that rumor was so absurd and untrue.
You rolled your eyes and wished he could see you, âNot surprised, it probably didnât feel like much for you either when youâre packing less than three inches.â
Steve scoffed loudly, knowing that was definitely not true and it wasnât just his ego talking.Â
âOh trust me, you wouldnât even be able to take half of what Iâm packing.â
âA half inch? Yeah, cause Iâd be too busy crying with disappointment.â You faked sobbed, flipping him off though he couldnât even see you.Â
He didnât have a comeback, clearly not in the mood to argue about what he was packing because truly youâd only believe him if you saw it for yourself. And trust him, heâd burn himself alive before ever thinking about seeing you naked or letting you see him naked.
That was just totally out of the question⊠and like he told Eddie, it would never happen even if you both were the last people on Earth.
âLet me borrow some soap.â Steve muttered knocking on your wall, hand dangling above your stall waiting for you to pass it over.
âNo.â You chuckled, smacking his hand before you grabbed your body wash and rubbed it against your palms to create bubbles.
âWhy not?â He coaxed, not putting his hand back down into his stall as you sighed and went on about washing your body.
âYou tried to kill me earlier and let me drown.â You reminded him.
âAnd what would you call that little stunt back there when you tried to stab me to death?â He retorted.
You were quiet, rolling your eyes knowing that he wouldnât let this go any time soon, so in order to save both of your energies, you simply picked up the bottle of shampoo, thrusting it up into his hand as he chuckled to himself and grabbed it.
âSee! Sharing is caring, now, if you need to borrow some brains you know where to find me.â
âShut the fuck up.â You snapped, trying to enjoy the rest of your shower despite knowing that the only thing that separated you both was a wall.
You showered in complete silence, only Steve knocking on your wall to give you back the products, fingers tapping against his palm to silently ask you for the next. After a few minutes you had finished, finally shutting the water off as you dried down.
You slipped your legs through a fresh pair of underwear, letting it snap against your skin as you worked the fitted cami over your torso and then slipped on the shorts that you rolled over your hips to stop them from falling.
Whipping the curtain back, you didnât wait for Steve to finish, simply leaving him as you went back towards the tents to hang your still wet swimsuit over a tree branch and stuffing your things back into your bag.
After a few minutes he came out, walking over with his towel around his neck, sporting a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.Â
âWell youâre definitely getting eaten alive by mosquitoes tonight.â He shook his head at your rookie mistake, laughing along with it.Â
You looked down at yourself, much of your skin left exposed for the same flies that badgered you earlier to feast upon.
âGive me a break, I didnât know there would be so many flies.â
He walked over to his stuff, plucking out the aerosol can and tossing it over to you, âHere.âÂ
You caught it, looking over the bottle label as he spoke, âItâs the only brand of bug spray that actually works.âÂ
âThanks.â You mumbled, twisting the bottle open and misting it over your arms and legs, letting the product coat every inch with a light sheen.
You tossed it back, working it into your skin as Steve took his turn to spray it on his exposed arms and neck knowing from experience that waking up to a hundred fly bites was the most uncomfortable itchy pain to be in.
âHow were the showers?â Eddie huffed, water dripped off his body as he made his way up to you both, the rest of them following behind.
âFine, just donât pick the stall directly at the entrance. Wouldnât want anyone getting an eye full.â
Steve smirked as you turned beet red, tucking your face into your chest and walking to your bag to pretend to search for something.
Nancy wrapped her arms around herself, biting back the cool air that was coming in from the day winding down.
âWhy donât you guys get started on the fire so that way we can have dinner soon.â
Sunset was just nearly finishing up, only about a half hour of sunlight left before darkness would set in. Steve knew from experience that keeping the fire overnight would be the best bet at having means to some light and warmth.
He nodded, looking around for the items to get it going, âYeah, sure, whereâs the charcoal?â
âCharcoal?â Jonthan asked, confused, scratching the temple of his head, not remembering seeing it when you were all loading Eddieâs van that morning.
Steve nodded his head obviously, looking around at the group. âFor the fire? I told you guys to pick it up.â
You sighed, standing up to face them with your hands on your hips. âDonât tell me you guys forgot it.âÂ
âAre we doomed if we say we did?â Eddie spoke, a guilty inflection in his voice, because he was totally in charge of that but it had slipped his mind.
Steve shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. âJust means that now we have to find some sticks and leaves. Do it the old fashioned way.â
Robin the ever so considerate one, starting snapping her fingers, pointing between you and Steve biting back her sneaky smile.
âSo stop standing around and start searching! We donât want to lose daylight before then.â
Taking a deep breath in you held back your comments of how you didnât want to go anywhere alone with Steve since he obviously had a death wish for you. However it was obvious that this was going to be a group effort, and if you wanted to make it out of here alive, you would just have to suck it up and follow Steveâs lead.
He stared down at your bare feet, pointing at your tent.
âPut some shoes on and letâs go.â He said, before the others smiled contently, running off to the showers and leaving you both alone again.
âThis is the last time Iâm ever camping.â You grumbled sliding on a fresh pair of socks and slipping your shoes on, bending to tie them up.
Steve tapped his foot against the grass, shaking his head at you and your ability to nit-pick every little thing.
âYou know, it would be more enjoyable if youâd stop making every minor inconvenience a big deal.â
You finished off the ties with a tug, walking over to him and glaring at his hypocrisy with an instance you were all too familiar with.
âAre you really one to be talking Mr. I got mad at Dustin Henderson for using up all my hairspray even when my date flaked on me?â
He hated that you remembered that even when it had been months ago since it happened. Neither you nor Dustin let him live it down because it was the first time he let a girl get in between his extraordinary ability to be the charming babysitter he made himself out to be. Dustin, so annoyed with his attitude, didnât ask Steve for any rides to the arcade nor did he visit him at Scoops for a whole two weeks.
Instead, you took on the babysitting role, driving him to the arcade, dropping him off to school, and even picking the kid up at Star Court when all his friends caught a ride with Steve to be dropped off back at their place. Steve thought Dustin was being ridiculous about the whole thing until you pulled up in your car, wearing the biggest smile as you rolled down your window and sent him a cold smirk.
âNot such a great babysitter anymore, huh?â You laughed, watching as his face fell and Dustin got into the passenger of your car, waving goodbye to his friends while you sped off.
Safe to say, Steve apologized to the kid, terribly sorry and embarrassed by his behavior and even throwing in a bottle of hairspray and a free banana split every time he came into Scoops as an apology gift.
The two of you followed the trail a few feet out from the campground, trucking through an uneven rocky path and outgrown bushes. He was clearly more familiar with the area given his experience, knowing exactly where to go, taking a shortcut that passed cut through the bumpy trail and led you to a small area of dirt and trees.
âWeâre looking for sticks about this size, but really any twig or stick will do.â He spoke, reaching down to pick up a large stick and show it to you.
You looked around, eyes peeled out for the sticks that were scattered in the area.
âAnd what about leaves?â you asked.
âThose too, but theyâve gotta be dry, almost crumbly.â He specified, walking off to start the collection process.
âGot it.â
You and Steve worked the best when there was no talking involved, perhaps that's why your friends always suggested going out to see a movie at the theaters instead of at each other's homes where you both would clearly not give a damn about causing a disturbance. But despite that, right then you both were going a whole ten minutes without insulting one another or making threats to see the other dead.
When you picked up the wrong stick of a leaf that wasnât crumbly enough, he just grunted, shaking his head until you dropped it and found another that would suffice. That system was working well so far, so maybe that was the key: limited talking.
âGo drop that pile off and come back for more, weâre gonna need a whole bunch to last until morning.â Steve instructed, noticing that you had already gathered quite a bit in your arms.
You peered into his arms, his pile about the same size as yours, maybe a little smaller.
âWant me to take some of yours?â You suggested, wanting to save you both a few more trips up there.
He nodded, carefully stacking them on top of what you already had, steadying the pile and removing the bigger ones to ensure it didnât tumble over while you were walking down. When you got all that you could carry, Steve gave you a cautious look.
âBe careful and walk slowly, the path gets rocky when you get closer to the camp. If you fall, just scream and Iâll hear you.â He was so serious about it, like a true camp counselor, or as you liked to call him...
âHeard you loud and clear, boy scout.â You hummed, turning around and making your way carefully down the trail.
For once you actually listened to what he said, taking your time and not rushing your way down knowing it wouldnât do you or him any good if you ended up taking a spill and losing all the fire starter then scratching yourself up in the process. You remembered the shortcut he took, a right turn that he conveniently marked with a X in the dirt. Just a little more walking before the campsite came back into view and still no signs of your friends being done yet.
You dumped the sticks and leaves near the outside of the fire pit that was in the center of the camp. Dusting your hands off and taking a deep breath, you looked back up the hilly trail where Steve was somewhere up there waiting for you to come back.
âCâmon, princess.â You muttered to yourself, feet taking you back there with fast steps trying to beat the sunlight.
Clearly the outdoors just wasnât your thing, easily becoming winded despite the fact that the trail wasnât that steep. But you were trying to cut yourself some slack because for a rookie, you kinda got the hang of keeping your balance and not getting lost through the unknown woods.
âH-how many more piles do we need? I canât do this five more times.â You huffed, hands on your hips as you caught your breath watching Steve dump a few more sticks in a pile on the ground.
He peered over at you, wiping the sweat that beaded on his forehead with the back of his hand.
âProbably one more, will do.â He answered, strolling further up, just to grab a bit more in case.
You honestly didnât know how a small town city boy like him was so good at things like this â usually he was only good at picking up girls and making a doofus out of himself when he didnât know how to talk about anything else beside him.Â
Maybe it was those annual Harrington trips he took when he was a little boy or maybe he really was secretly a boy scout and been hiding it all along, either way, thank god it was him doing most of the dirty work and not you.
âShould I bring these down or do you want me to wait?â You shouted loud enough for him to hear glancing over at the piles he made while you picked a few more sticks up.
âYou canâ fuck!â He winced, clutching his palm in his other hand, starting to feel a sharp pain shoot in around the area.Â
Hastily you dropped the sticks, abandoning the pile and racing to where he was while trying not to fall so that you could see what exactly was going on. There was a pained look on his face, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he turned away and tried to shake it off. But alas you reached for his wrist, bringing his hand towards you to access.
âShit, youâre bleeding.â You whispered, bringing the injured hand closer to see if the gash was deep or not, but you couldnât quite tell with the small pooling of blood in the way.
Steve jutted his chin downwards, showing you the jagged stone responsible.
âI didnât see it when I went for the stick.â He explained.Â
You nodded, releasing his wrist gently. âCâmon, we need to get it cleaned and bandaged before it gets infected.â
âI gotta grab theââ
âNo!â You yelped, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt when he attempted to bend down for more sticks despite his injury.
He stopped, visibly stunned at your sudden attentiveness that was usually never present when it came to him.
âIâll carry those, but you donât pick up or hold anything else. If a splinter gets in there Iâll be the one needing to dig it out and it'll only hurt more.â You said sternly, shaking your head at him like he should have known better.Â
âI thought you liked seeing me in pain.â Steve smirked somehow still able to be a little shit even with a fucked up hand.Â
âI do,â You tilted your head, but sighed, âBut I really donât need the one person who actually knows what theyâre doing to be the first one dead.â
âFine by me.â Steve shrugged, forced to watch you pick up all the sticks and leaves by yourself, he followed behind you as you occasionally looked behind your shoulder to see if he was okay.
When you both finally made it back to the tents, you dropped the pile, pointing at the foldable chairs a few feet from the pit.
âGo over there.â You instructed, brushing past him with vigor as you went to your tent to retrieve the first aid kit you packed for emergencies like this, though you were really hoping you didnât have to use it.
You flipped the case open, taking a look at all the materials it contained while you walked over to him, kneeling in front of him and deciding what you were going to do. Grabbing an alcohol wipe, you disinfected your hands before you tapped his knee.
âShow me.â You demanded, holding your hand out, until he reluctantly placed it in yours giving you a closer look at the gash.
The blood had stopped so you knew it wasnât that deep of a cut that would require stitches or staples, but it most definitely needed to be wrapped up to prevent an infection and trip to the emergency room.
You reached into the kit for a fresh alcohol pad, ripping it open with your teeth as you steadied his hand in yours.
âJust get it over with already.â He muttered, head turning away anticipating the sting that was going to be worse than your nails digging into him.
âDonât be a wimp.â You joked, swiping it gently over the area to get it clear from the drying blood and any outside contaminants. He didnât pull back, only sucking in a deep breath from the mild burn but after a few seconds the worst part was done.
âSee, not so bad, right, big boy?â You laughed, patting his knee again before throwing aside the bloodied napkin as he swallowed thickly, waiting for your next steps.
He watched you carefully, grabbing some sort of ointment, squeezing a small dollop onto your finger before you dabbed it over the cut making sure to coat it evenly. Then you placed two pieces of gauze over the top to keep it extra clean and enclosed.Â
You repositioned his arm, letting his elbow rest upright on his knee.
âIâm gonna tape you up now, so try not to get it wet, but if you do I can always rewrap it.â You told him, getting the tape ready.
Steve was surprised by your skill, expertly maneuvering the tape through his fingers, across his palm and over his wrist, repeating it a few times to ensure that the gauze wouldnât budge and would keep the cut sealed tight.
âWhereâd you learn how to do this?â He asked curiously, watching as you smoothed out the creases as you went.
You shrugged, doing one last wrap around for good measure, âI had a phase where I thought I wanted to be a nurse.â You grinned, teeth wrapping around the excess tape to rip it off before you flattened the remainder over his wrist.
He nodded slowly, stammering out,âT-thanks.â
âDonât mention it.â You brushed it off, cleaning up the bloody wipes and putting the first aid kit back in your bag after disinfecting your hands once more.Â
The sun was nearly covered by the clouds, painting the sky a darker orange shade as nightfall threatened to spill over soon. At this point, the fire needed to be started, now â no more distractions and no more arguing.
âSo?â You shot Steve a look, then back down at the fire pit, âWanna tell me what I need to do to get this thing started or what?â
Steve was more than capable of getting it done himself with one good hand, but seeing as though you were pretty stern in his efforts to not carry a single stick, not even a paper light leaf, he knew this would be no different. Instead he moved to stay beside you, acting as supervisor just so he could make sure you were doing the right thing.
âYouâre gonna wanna start by making a bed with the leaves.â He instructed, watching as you dropped down on your hands and knees to get low enough into the pit as you threw them in, trying your best to make it as leveled as possible.
âIt looks good,â He praised, giving you a tight smile when you looked up at him waiting for the next steps.
âYou want to do it the old fashioned way or do you want to use Eddieâs lighter?â He chuckled, knowing heâd pick the easy way just like you were going to.
âFuck that, Iâm not a cave woman, where the hell is the lighter?â You strided towards his and Eddieâs tent, rummaging through the metal heads duffle bag until you felt the familiar body of the lighter.
You went back into place, flicked it on and looked at Steve cautiously until he nodded, granting you permission to set the bed of leaves on fire. Blindlessly you passed the lighter up to him, watching as the flames slowly engulfed the leaves and began to crackle.
âNow start adding a few sticks. Weâre gonna need to add more throughout the night to feed the fire.â He said watching as you carefully threw some in, doing your best to cover the bed beneath it until only a little of the fire was exposed.
âAlright, thatâs good enough.â He bent down patting your shoulder and feeling the warmth of the fire starting to get hotter.
âWell that wasnât so hard.â You grinned to yourself dusting off your hands and knees, happy with your outdoor accomplishments thus far.
âTechnically the lighter made the fire.â He shot back, flicking it between you both as you rolled your eyes and blew the flame out.
âOh shut it.â You muttered, going to busy yourself with something else while Steve put the lighter back where it came from.
You propped open the rest of the chairs, randomly placing them around everyones tents and two extra ones right in front of the fire pit. Steve was watching the fire, making sure it didnât get too big or burned too slowly â so far the bed of leaves you built were holding up and it didnât seem like itâd be going out until morning tomorrow.
After a few minutes the voices of your friends came tumbling out of the bathrooms, seeing them all dressed in their PJâs that somehow showed they were more prepared than you. All of them decked out in long sleeves, hoodies, and sweatpants â god, you wished you got the memo.
âDamn this is cool! Iâve only ever seen a campfire in movies!â Eddie enthusiastically ran closer, peering into the bright orange pit.
You looked over at all of them, dramatically holding your arms wide open.
âWere you guys having a foursome or something?! Steve and I did all the work and he even got banged up in the process.â You said, walking over to him to lift and show them his injured hand.
Robin gasped, running up to his side to check up on him, obviously worried for her best friend, âWhat the heck happened.â
Steve shrugged looking over at you with a somewhat grateful look, âGrazed a sharp rock, but itâs fine. She wrapped it up and weâre all good to go now.â
âWell shit, sorry we took so long,â Jonathan apologized half-heartedly, while his mind was celebrating that you both actually seemed to work well together when it was needed.Â
âEddie and Robin thought they saw a spider in the showers so we all had to take turns using one stall.â Nancy rolled her eyes, giving you an apologetic look, the both of you knowing Robin and Eddie were a tad bit dramatic at times.
âItâs fine, but you can make it up to us by cooking.â You grinned, you and Steve giving each other a sly look before you pointed at the icebox of food waiting to be cooked.
So you and Steve finally got to kick back⊠in silence of course.
You both sat in the foldable chairs, watching as the four worked diligently over the fire â Nancy holding skewers of hot dogs over the flame, Robin prodding at the potatoes wrapped in foil with a pair of tongs, Jonathan toasting the hot dog buns one by one, and Eddie feeding the fire with a few more smaller sticks.
He peered over at your silent figure, watching the way you zoned off into your own world, somehow right beside him yet a world away. You were probably thinking about something else, either all the remarks you wanted to snap his way yet were held back or maybe you were making a list of new ones to call him tomorrow.Â
But he cleared his throat, attempting to get you back here with him, âDo you uhh, want a drink?â Steve asked, breaking the silence.
You blinked, turning to watch him flip open the cooler to grab himself a beer while he looked back at you waiting for your request.Â
âWater, please.â You said, watching as he dug his non injured hand into the ice box to pull you out an ice cold water bottle, shutting the box closed.
âThank you.â You said softly twisting it open to take a sip.
While doing so, you furrowed your brows, noticing the way that Steve struggled with the twist off since he was using his non-dominant hand. He almost went to put the bottle in his mouth to use his pearly whites as an opener before you quickly capped off your drink and stepped in.
âGive it here.â You said, taking the glass from his hand, and tucking the lid under your shirt to stop it from pinching your skin as you effortlessly twisted it open.
âThank you.â Steve nodded with a small smile, taking it from you as you shook your head with a grin and went back to watching your friends.
Steve couldnât wrap his head around how you could be so selfless but at the same time so selfish. Youâd do anything your friends asked of you at the drop of a hat, maybe even without them asking to begin with â youâd just jump in and do it. But when it came to him, half the time you didnât give a damn, ignoring every warning or piece of unwarranted advice heâd thrown your way.
It was utterly confusing, considering that you were the most selfless person to him today than youâd ever been before. You couldâve left him to deal with the cut by himself seeing as though he still had one good hand left, and honestly you couldâve left him to do the stick and leaf collecting all by himself⊠but you didnât.
On a regular day if he even dared to ask for your help, the answer would be âno,â with no explanation other than the fact that you just didnât want to have anything to do with him. So it struck a chord in his mind, wondering why now? It couldnât just be because you both were in the middle of nowhere, he knew that much.Â
Why all of a sudden was there this shift, the one where you helped him without receiving anything back?
âHow is the food coming along?â You whistled towards your friends.
Nancy smiled widely, holding one of the skewers up, âItâs almost done! Maybe two more minutes!â
Robin pouted, snapping the metal tongs to get your attention, âThe potatoes need a bit more time, theyâre still hard as rocks.â she huffed, resting her chin on her knees.
âDid you poke them with holes?â You wondered as she frowned and shook her head.
âWas I supposed to? I didnât know, Iâm sorry.â She apologized ridiculously for something that wasnât a big deal.
You shook your head shooting her a reassuring smile.
âSâokay! Theyâre gonna cook through, but sometimes poking holes just speeds it up a bit⊠It's okay! If anything, we can have them for breakfast.â
âOkie dokie!â She smiled, happy that she didnât entirely sit there for nothing.Â
He hated himself for watching you so carefully, taking notice of the bright smile you flashed against the moonlight and how your voice was so syrupy sweet. He never took notice of it before, but you had a radiance about you, something that everyone seemed to catch except him.
Maybe it was because half the time you were shooting daggers through him and screaming your lungs off, but now, for the first time, he felt like he was seeing a different side of you â the one he tried to fight off knowing for so long.
âAre you okay?â You furrowed your brows, waving your hand in front of Steveâs face.
He shook his head, snapping out of it and nodding awkwardly, âY-yeah, Iâm fine⊠you?â
âIâm okay.â You told him, turning your attention back to your friends.Â
Maybe it was your tiredness that was preventing you from being the bitch that you usually were to him or maybe you felt a little bad for him because of his injuries, but whatever it was filled the air with some sort of calmness that usually wasnât around when he was in your vicinity.
Really, on most days, if youâd caught Steve staring at you, which most times he wasnât unless it was full of revulsion, you would have snapped and told him to take a lap, but it was almost as if you could feel what his eyes were doing.
His gaze drinking you in slowly like the beer in his hands and trying to understand your craft. He didnât stare through you, nor at you, but to you⊠trying to get under your skin in a way he hadnât done before.
It feltâŠweird, so awkwardly weird. On a regular day the both of you could barely go two minutes without cursing each other out the second either of you spoke a word to each other. Now all of a sudden you both had your Pâs and Qâs ready for each other along with genuine concerns about the otherâs wellbeing?
God, you both couldnât wait for it to go back to normal.
âFoodâs ready!â Eddie called out, slicing through the unspoken tension.
You and Steve stood up, heading towards the food knowing you were both dying to have something in your systems after a long day. Beating him to it, you plated him a hot dog swiftly moving on as if the little gesture meant nothing.
âCondiments?â You asked, picking up the ketchup bottle, giving it a good shake before squeezing a dollop on your plate.
âHuh?â He asked confused, too wound up about your niceness.
âDo you want any condiments on your hot dog?â You clarified once more, raising your brow up at him.
He needed to stop reading into things so much.
âOh, y-yeahâ He nodded, watching as you squeezed some for him, âand mustard please,â he said, and you nodded, reaching for the yellow bottle and doing the same before you capped it off and left him in the dust when you went to sit with the girls.
Eddie snuck up from behind him, just nearly whispering into his ear lowly, âArenât you two being friendly for once?â
He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows when Steve looked back at him a bit startled. He rolled his eyes, walking over to the chairs near their tent and plopping down.
âSheâs pitying me because of my hand.â
âOr she just genuinely wants to help you out?â Jonathan chimed in taking a seat beside him.
Steve shook his head, picking up his food, âI doubt that. Sheâs probably gonna use this against me for the rest of eternity.â He replied before taking a bite.
âI donât think so man, I think she actually cares, and I think you like that she cares.â Eddie waved his finger in the air before poking at his cheek.
Steve snapped his teeth, pretending to bite the finger that Eddie quickly pulled away. Jonathan laughed at the banter because of course Eddie had to be the one to stir the pot when things were staring to cool and settle.
âShe doesnât give a damn about meâŠ.â
Steve started, trailing his eyes to where you were, watching you share whispers to the girls before you met his eyes for a split second.
âShe still hates my guts.â He said as you snapped your eyes back to Nancy and Robin.
âDid we miss something while you guys were gone?â Nancy raised her brows, glancing back at Steve and the boys who were engrossed in their own conversations whilst they ate.
You shook your head towards her, swallowing your food before speaking.
âNope, why do you say that?â You buzzed, wondering why all of a sudden she thought something had happened.
Robin chimed in swiftly, nudging your arm with a weak punch, shooting you a more than obvious look.
âCause you guys havenât tried to kill each other for the past hour and a half and you actually could stand to sit beside him without arguing.â
You tilted your head at her incredulously.
âI thought you guys wanted us to get along?â
âOh, we doâŠâ Nancy nodded enthusiastically, âweâre just wondering what made it happen considering you both tried to kill each other a few hours ago.â
Letting out a deep breath, you tried to give your best irritated look under your tiredness.
âWeâre just tired thatâs all. Weâve run out of insults and to be quite honest, I need to recharge my battery with some sleep before attempting to murder him tomorrow. Before you know it weâll be at each otherâs throats again.â You explained hoping they would drop it.
But of course they didnât.
âWould it kill you to, I donât know, be a little more positive on the outlook of you and Steveâs relationship.â Robin beamed hopefully.
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you glanced over at Steveâs figure.
âHe still hates me,â you said, meeting his orbs split, âI know it,â you muttered, tearing your eyes away.
Neither Nancy, nor Eddie, or Jonathan, and Robin didnât believe a goddamn word that came out of your mouths when it came to each other. Clearly things were starting to unfold and whatever it was that happened when they werenât around to see it was obviously just the catalyst.
So many things that went unspoken for way too long were lingering in the air and they all knew you needed the space to confront it.After a while of eating, Nancy dramatically yawned, gesturing her boyfriend over to her with wide eyes silently telling him to go along with what she was doing, without you or Steve taking notice.
âWeâre gonna head to bed now.â She announced, tiredly clinging to her boyfriend's side.
Jonathan nodded, wrapping his arms over her shoulders.
âYeah, weâll see you guys in the morning.â He said, the two of them beginning to get into their tents while calling out their goodnights to you all.
âWake us up if you need anything.â You called out as they both hummed and zipped up their tarp for the night.
You were going to turn in too, really you were more than tired, just needing a good night's rest so that youâd be ready to go in the morning. Throwing out your plate, you walked over to your tent to grab your toothbrush and other nighttime necessities.
âIâm gonna go brush my teeth.â You said, walking towards the bathrooms.
âWait up,â Steve called out, grabbing his own brush and jogging towards where you waited so you guys could go together.
Robin tilted her head towards your tent, as Eddie nodded, swiftly grabbing his lighter and pre rolls from his duffle bag and joining Robin inside the structure. That honestly wasnât a part of the plan, seeing as though he was going to keep the blunt to himself, but now it was just convenient and would make the perfect excuse.
Steve didnât bother to settle to the empty sink beside yours, instead he switched the water on letting you run your brush under the faucet first before he did his. You squeezed a strip of toothpaste over your bristles before doing the same to his guessing he forgot to pack his own which he totally did.
The both of you stood in front of the mirror, brushing in silence with the water trickling weakly. Your eyes drifted from his face to his hand that rested at his side stiffly. You knew it was probably still a little sore, but by tomorrow morning the pain should subside enough for him to move it a little more freely.Â
âDo you want me to rewrap your hand?â You offered, mouth still full of toothpaste as you spoke mumbly.Â
He met your eyes in the mirror, lifting his hand towards you, trusting your opinion rather than his own.Â
âWhat do you think?â
You stopped your brushing for just a second, leaving the brush between your cheek and teeth as you picked up his hand and gave it a good look to see if there was any oozing blood or loose tape â which there was neither.
Putting his arm down gently, you shook your head. âLooks fine, Iâll just clean it and change the gauze in the morning.â
âOkay.â He mumbled, smiling softly.
Steve let you rinse first, leaning up against the wall as he watched you spit out the residue and wipe your mouth clean. You stepped away, letting him have his go while you reached into your small toiletry bag, placing your brush back inside and twisting open your lip balm to smooth over your lips.
âWant some?â You raised your brow, seeing him watch you while he swigged some water in his mouth.
He spat, turning off the water and looking at the tube, âBirthday cake?â He questioned the flavor on the label.
âTastes like vanilla and strawberries.â You said as he shrugged, puckering his lips towards you as you applied a thin layer before capping it off and throwing it back into your bag.
He smacked his lips together, a bit of his tongue coming out to lick at it, âI canât taste it?â
âYouâre not actually supposed to eat it, Steve.â You chided, shaking your head as you both walked to the tents.
âThen why would they advertise it as birthday cake if I canât taste the cake?â He retorted, still trying to lick at his slimy lips to taste it.
You didnât want to get into with him over some stupid lip balm flavor so instead you held back, listening to his lips smacking, persistent on getting to try the artificial taste while you tried not to laugh. As you got closer to the tents, a different smell lingered in the air along with the smokey aroma of the fire.
âDo you smell that?â You sniffed the air, turning to Steve seeing him do the same.
He sniffled in a few times, deciphering the smell and after a few seconds, he knew exactly what it was, an unmistakable likeness to the back of Eddieâs van.
âItâs weed.â
You looked around, realizing the absence of Eddie and Robin who were just sitting near the campfire before you went to the bathroom. Now, you noticed your tent that was half unzipped was completely sealed and if you listened close enough you could hear the whispers being spoken from inside.
You stomped over to them, unzipping the tarp, pulling it roughly.
âAre you guys insane?â You hissed, tossing in your toiletry bag while staring at them in annoyance.
âInsanely hiiiigh.â Robin hiccuped with a giggle joined by Eddieâs snorts while he took another hit.
Steve peered in from behind you, his expression stern.Â
âYouâre not even supposed to bring that stuff onto the camp ground, youâre gonna get us kicked out, dumbass.â Steve scolded, ripping the joint from Eddie and putting it out against the ground.
âHey! That was a special strain!â Eddie argued, attempting to reach for it but Steve pulled it behind his back, not letting up.
âI donât care.â You said dryly, âyou need to get out and go to your tent so I can sleep.â
You attempted to pull him out by the arm but he didnât budge as easily as you thought he would.
âNo, wait! Ten more minutes!â Robin whined, smacking your arm away from her friend, âYou guys are letting all the good stuff out!âÂ
Zipping up the tent, you and Steve backed away defeatedly. You ran your hands through your hair, closing your eyes briefly trying not to let their little antics tick you off despite your exhaustion.Â
âTen minutes and Iâm counting!â You warned, thumping the top of the tent before you flopped down onto the chairs hoping time would fly faster.
Steve looked at you apologetically, holding back his joking comment about how it didnât matter that he built your tent, seeing as though you were locked out, but he didnât want to make you more irritated than you already were⊠surprising right?
âNight?â He said, shooting you a remorseful smile when he stopped in front of your chair.Â
âGoodnight, Steve.â You yawned, waving him off as you hugged yourself to bear the cold clad in nothing but your tank and shorts.
He nodded walking to his tent a few feet away, toeing off his shoes before giving you one last look until he zipped his tent closed. He reached for the small flashlight he packed, putting it on its lowest setting so that Eddie could see when he came in. Giving his pillow a pat, he laid back pulling his blanket over himself and attempting to close his eyes and rest.
Sleep should have come easy seeing as though he had been up since seven in the morning, yet he still couldnât fall into slumber no matter how hard he tried. He knew it wasnât the fact that he wasnât in his bedroom because heâd been camping times before and sleep naturally came easy but tonight it just wasnât budging.
He shifted uncomfortably, aware of the passing minutes that stretched beyond ten, and Eddie still hadn't joined him. He was totally sure he didnât even hear you give them another warning from the outside, meaning that you were definitely asleep on that chair.
Sitting up to peek through the small gap he left open, there you were â head tilted back, eyes closed, arms hugging your body, seemingly oblivious to the bitter cold that was going to leave you with hypothermia. If he was really feeling like being an asshole to you, he wouldâve left you out there to suffer the consequences of your actions, but he couldnât.
Quietly stepping outside, Steve approached, bending down to gently nudge you awake.
âPsttt, wake up," he whispered, cautious not to disturb Nancy and Jonathan nearby who were dead asleep by now.
You responded with a sleepy mumble, lips curling up as you somehow shifted deeper into the chair that was not designed to sleep in like that no matter how tired someone could be.
He tried again, this time more rigid in his efforts by grabbing your hand and squeezing it, âWake up.â
Feeling his toasty hand in yours, you groggily opened your eyes, dazed orbs looking into his.
âWhat?â You grumbled, eyes opening to be met with Steveâs filled with confusion.
Without much explaining, he squeezed your hand again, pulling you up, âYouâre crashing in my tent tonight.âÂ
You had no choice but to let him pull you along, stumbling behind him as sleep still clouded your senses.Â
âWhy?â You groaned, rubbing at your eyes while he guided you to his tent where he widened the tarp, gesturing for you to enter.
âBecause that special strain Eddie was talking about was for sleep. Neither of them are gonna budge till morning.â He informed you, resting a gentle hand on the small of your back to keep you up right as you lazily toed your shoes off.
âWell fuck me.â You muttered under your breath crouching when you stepped into the small space.
He snorted behind you, âIn your dreams.â He said before zipping it up.
âShut up,â you groaned, crawling towards the empty space beside him.
Now it was starting to feel like things were going back to normal.
You settled into what would have been Eddieâs side, a half fluffed pillow under your head and nothing else. Though their overall set up was way more comfortable than what you and Robin had going on in yours. Steve had layered a sleeping mat beneath the comforter, making the surface a little more plush that way no rocks or gravel could be felt under the tarp â plus it added an extra layer of warmth, something you desperately needed right now.
Laying on your back, you left a good distance between you both, wrapping your arms around yourself once again hoping that now youâd be able to sleep comfortably even if it was beside Steve. Closing your eyes, you focused on breathing trying to not think so hard about the shivers in your bones knowing you wouldnât be able to feel them once you fell asleep.
âI can hear your teeth clattering.â Steve sighed, casting a glance towards you where you laid beside him, starting to rub your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to generate warmth.
âI obviously wasnât prepared for this, and my blanket is in my tent.â You muttered, eyes still closed and tucking your knees into yourself to find some semblance of comfort.
He made a thoughtful noise, lifting up his blanket and turning his body towards you. You could feel the space tighten, the fuzzy material of his blanket skimming your bare skin.
âGet under here.â He whispered, nodding his head when you finally opened your eyes looking at him with uncertainty and confusion.
You didnât know what to make of it, if this was some kind of cruel joke he was playing on you, where he was actually going to hog it for himself and let you spend the rest of the night with your teeth clattering.Â
But deep down he wasnât all that bad, sure he poked fun at you and made your blood boil like no other, but when it came down to morals, he had some saved for you⊠at least for now it seemed like.Â
Steve raised his brow at your hesitance, lifting the blanket up higher.
âWhatâre you waiting for? Do you want to freeze to death because by all means let me know.â He challenged pretending as if he wouldnât care.Â
You swallowed thickly, turning your back towards him as you cautiously scooted under the blanket, feeling its comforting weight draped over your body. His fingers funneled you over more of the material, letting you have most of it as you quietly thanked him, tucking the throw under your neck where your fingers held it tight.
This was totally out of character coming from Steve knowing it wouldâve hurt his ego a lot less if heâd just given you the blanket for yourself and spent the night with no covering. But for some reason you couldnât place the gesture, not knowing why he would go out of his way for you or if this was some ulterior motive to hold against you in the future.
âI thought you wouldnât mind me dead.â You said, trying to find a way to ease the awkwardness that you felt in your mind when he was just inches behind you.Â
âI donât,â he laughed, his breath grazing the back of your neck. âBut I donât want to haul your frozen body in the back of Eddieâs van.â He added with a playful glint.
There was your old Steve, back.
âC-can we just go to bed?â You stuttered, clearing your throat as you rested your head deeper into the pillow just wanting to dream off somewhere, anywhere but right there in reality.Â
âSure.â He agreed, shifting slightly before settling down and closing his eyes.
Silence enveloped you both, just the sounds of crickets from the outside and gentle crackling of the fire that burned slow in the air.
Part of you wished he maybe would have left you out there to fend for yourself or maybe just threw his blanket over you for good measure, but somehow, being in here with him, tucked away from the rest of the world made you feel even more awake than before. It was obvious, neither of you were going to be falling asleep so easily, the tension so thick you could barely breathe through it.
Steve at least tried to fall asleep, focusing on something to dream about but you were overwhelming his senses making his nerves go into overdrive. Sure he already reeked of all of your products that he had borrowed in the shower, but now it was a combination of their scents attached to your skin and hair that was filling his nostrils. It didnât help that you unconsciously let out those soft noises, as your body shook, not fully taking in the warmth just yet.
Shifting slightly, your back unintentionally met his forearms that rested behind you. His eyes snapped open, feeling the coolness against his skin, shifting up slightly just enough to see your face.
âHow are you still freezing?â Steve yelped, pulling his arm back from your frosty skin.Â
You sighed heavily, repositioning your body to face him with a grunt, throwing all caution to the wind and not caring about how intimate this was. Both of you had already crossed so many lines that defined your hate fueled relationship⊠one more thing couldnât hurt.
âIâm a-always cold.â You whispered, jaw wobbling through the shivers taking deep breaths to try to relax yourself.Â
Steve raised his eyebrows and stared at you worriedly, âSo you dying is just inevitable tonight, thatâs what youâre saying?â
It came out a bit too sarcastic than he meant it to be since he was just genuinely curious to know if you were going to make it out alive tonight or if you needed to get into Eddieâs van and crank up the heater.Â
You rolled your eyes, whispering in frustration.
âI canât help it alright! Had I been in my tent, Iâd be fine!â
Steve brushed your irritation off, instead moving his arms under the blanket, hovering his hands over your waist.
âWell youâre not, so Iâm gonna swallow my pride and do something about it alright?â He said slowly letting his hands slide over your cold skin, watching as your face twisted with confusion.Â
âWhat are you⊠oh god.â You groaned realizing exactly where this was going â a mirror to earlier in the lake, but this time you werenât so disgusted.Â
He was practically a human furnace, pulling you closer into him barely leaving inches while the warmth from his body cascaded onto yours. You tried not to tense or move abruptly, aware that his bad hand was weakly grasping your back and the last thing you wanted was to make it worse.
Instead you froze, breathing stopped for a second as you searched his face trying to see how he was feeling about this whole thing. He didnât look displeased or annoyed that he was doing this for you, instead he was calm, cool, and collected as if he wasnât holding the girl who tried to stab him a few hours ago.
âDo you have a better idea?â Steve suggested, looking down at you awaiting to see your next moves: either telling him to fuck off or staying silent for the rest of the night.
To his surprise, you eased into his hold, hooking your own arms under his and closing the rest of the space between you. Your chest was pressed up against his, one of your legs fastened over his hip, while the other knocked against his thigh. It was a definite contrast to the hours earlier where he practically lugged you through the lake, if only you knew things would be so different now.
âWe are not to speak about this after tonight. Not even a peep.â You warned, squirming impossibly closer to him before shooting him a serious look.
He nodded, eyes shutting tightly like he was trying to dream it away.
âIâm erasing this from my memory as we speak.â
âGoodnight.â You whispered, closing your eyes, hoping that would be the end of it.
âNight.â He muttered back.
Third times a charm⊠or maybe not.
In this position you could feel everything and there was no way to escape it.
His warm breath fanning over your face, his chest rising and falling against yours, the soft thumpthump of his heart echoing beneath your ear, and the hair on his arms delicately brushing against your exposed skin â everything was him wrapped up in your arms. Literally.
Steve could feel it, the way you tried to control your breathing by taking a breath in when he breathed out. But you were trying too hard to time it perfectly, overthinking and making sure he didnât notice when itâs all he could really do, your back heaving against his hands was all it took for him to speak up.
âRelax,â Steve murmured gingerly digging his fingertips into your skin with his eyes still closed
âH-huh?â You opened your eyes watching his serene features that showed he wasnât as edgy as you.
âI can feel youâŠâ He started, voice low and silky as he spoke, âyouâre nervous.â
You shook your head as if he could see you, swallowing the lump in your throat.
âIâŠIâm not nervous, itâs justâthis is different, we donât do this.â You explained only partially truthfully considering you were more than just nervous.
âItâs just for tonight.â He said trying to iron out your worries the best that he could.
âNo, I know, itâs just thatââ
âI can feel your eyes on me, you know?â
Steve chuckled, peeking one of his eyes open, catching you in the act of trying to pinch them closed before he noticed.
You crumbled, letting out a weak laugh as you just opened them, finding him doing the same. The two of you staring at each other, the only sliver of light from the small beam in the corner of the tent, accompanied with the moonlight seeping weakly past the tarp.
Steve lifted his head just a bit, gesturing back to his bag just a few feet away from where you both were in the middle of the area.Â
âDo you just want to take the blanket? I have a hoodie I can use in myââ His arms ever so slightly loosed and you stopped him.
Your fingertips squeezed tenderly into back, your leg pushing down on his hip to stop him from moving any further.
âNo, its fine, this is fine. I donât mind sharing.â
âYou sure?â He laughed quietly, resting his head back down on the pillow.
âCause you donât have to pretend you want to share? We hate each other so Iâm very familiar with our dislike when weâre forced to be around one another.â He reminded you, his tone light hearted not exuding any malice this time around.
You swallowed, nodding your head reassuringly as you let up your tense hold on him.
âI knowâŠI-I still hate you, but I can deal with this for one night.â
âAnd youâre okay with this? Us⊠cuddling?â He asked, just wanting to be extra sure because cuddling didnât have to be a part of it if you didnât want it.Â
âPositive.â You hummed, giving him one last look before you fluttered your eyes closed.
âOkay⊠good, good.â He hushed, nodding more so to himself content that you seemed to relax a bit more.
He shouldâve closed eyes and went off to sleep, but now it seemed like all he wanted to do was watch you. Make sure that you were comfortable enough in his arms and warm enough to brave the night until morning and then youâd never have to be this close to him again.
He never took his eyes off your face, taking all of you in at once â long lashes kissing the skin under your eyes, cheek cozily pressed into the fluff of the pillow, lips relaxing in a straight smile and under his touch your breathing was stable, synchronized with his. He couldnât believe he was holding you right now, getting the chance to see you like this â it was his biggest privilege.
You could feel his eyes, he obviously sucked at taking his own advice and he was clearly proving your point that he was a hypocrite⊠but you already knew that.Â
You knew a lot of things about Steve, mostly all of the bad and annoying parts about him, but you also knew the good parts. The ones you blocked off and stored way back in your head because you never wanted to associate them with him.Â
The fact that he wasnât all that bad under those preppy button ups and head of hair.
He loved your friends, just as much as you did, treated them with kindness and savored every moment he spent with them. He knew how to take care of six rascals all by himself while also being the one they ran to when it came to all their teenage problems. He never showed up empty handed to any hangouts, always doing his best to bring anything whether it was a plain bag of chips or the camping equipment he had hidden in his garage.
Steve knew how to push your buttons, and perhaps that was the very thing that frustrated you the most â the realization that he had an undeniable effect on you. And at the same time, it was the very thing you were terrified of knowing â that if things would have been different, maybe the irritation you both had felt for each other could have just been affection from the get go.
The thick and imposing walls of animosity youâd built up for each other, was just a defensive mechanism. A weak hollow barrier that tried to disguise what you really felt, something so strong that only now broke through the bounds and unleashed a flood of emotions.
What was one more line crossed, when you both already jumped bridges?
âSteve?â You called out to him, hoping he wasnât pretending to be asleep.
âYeah?â His reply came swiftly, and his eyes flickered to watch your lips form the next set of words.
âYou still hate me right?â You suspected, running your tongue over the bottom of your lip as you waited.
He nodded his head obviously though you couldnât see him.
âY-yeah. Why?â He furrowed his brows puzzled by the sudden question.
âWhat do you hate about me?â You pressed on.
A deep breath fanned across your face, followed by the tsking of his tongue, âI donât think we shouldââ
âTell me, Steve⊠please?â Your hands pressed firmly against his back, a silent plea echoing through the touch, not because you wanted to hear the words coming from him, but because you needed them.
He swallowed thickly, watching as you waited with your brows raised up yet eyes still closed. He didnât understand why you wanted this from him all of the sudden. Why now when all his mind could do was fill up with the parts of you that he wanted to forget? The parts of you he silently spent hyperfixating on because you thought more about the people around you rather than yourself and he wished he could be half the person you were.
He liked to joke that you were his competition, his rival of sorts, but in actuality, he could never measure up to your level of compassion and he was more than fine with that. Settling for watching on the sidelines with a convincing snarkiness on his face, while on the inside his bones weakened and his brain went haywire wondering how you could ever exist in the same lifetime as him.
There was nothing he truly hated about you, he didnât think there ever could be.
Mindlessly his fingers moved along your back, rubbing small circles and sweeping across your soft skin before he cleared his throat from the roughness and finally spoke into the millimeters between you.
âI umm, I hate the way you never forget about something I did.â He started, mind wandering to the afternoon where you reminded him of such instances with Dustin.Â
âHmmm.â You hummed, nodding your head along and relaxing your features now that he was working with you.
âI hate the way you always remind me to slow down when Iâm driving around with the kids.â He admitted, guiltily confessing to his occasional speeding when they were running late and so was he.
You grunted, snickering weakly, âI need them all in one piece.âÂ
He agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips, acknowledging your concern.
His fingers stalled against your back, taking a sharp breath in, letting the words rest on the tip of his tongue whilst he gave himself a moment. A moment to take you in, to see you as such, to give himself a little longer with the mystery hanging in the air wondering if you could feel what he felt and understand what he was about to say.
âAnd I hate the way you look at everyone except me.â He said it so quietly that if you werenât listening close enough you would have missed it.
But how could you ever let something like that float away so easily?
You flickered your eyes open, looking up at him past your lashes, staring into his orbs for all he was worth. Like he was the only thing to ever exist before your eyes and all you wanted to do was memorize him.Â
âLike what?â You whispered, never breaking eye contact.
âLike thisâŠâ He proclaimed, pulling his injured hand away from your back and bringing it forward to cradle your face ever so gently.
His thumb traced your cheek, your breath catching in your throat, letting him gaze at you in a way he never had before. It was concerning how quickly you established that from this moment on, Steve was the only person who would ever have the privilege of seeing like this. Stripped down in the confines of a stupid tent, that somehow felt like its own little oasis away from the rest of the scary world right outside.
It was just you and him and your own world.
âYou look at everyone with these eyes, so eager and happy.â He said, trailing down to the corner of your lips, brushing his thumb across delicate skin.
âYou smile at them like theyâre everything to you.â he said, nearly letting his hand slip away as if he was unworthy of such a feeling.
But before he could, you brought your hands up, wrapping gently around his wrists to keep him there like your life depended on it. Wanting nothing more than to show him that he could â he was willing and able, and had all the permission from you to stay here, as long as you could get him to.
âI hate that you donât look at me like that.â He swallowed, shaking his head more so himself, because all he ever wanted was this and for so long he pushed it away.
âI am right now.â You finally spoke, almost breathlessly, trying to reassure his anxieties about the past, the same ones you were feeling.Â
âHate that it took this long.â He confessed with a weak laugh.
You smiled half apologetically. âMe too.â
It was all the confirmation you both needed.
No more lines.
No more bridges burnt.
Nothing keeping you both from the truth.
He had bit the bullet and you had jumped into the deep end and there was no going back from here. Time wasnât stopping for either of you despite the intensity of the moment. There was clearly a beginning, you and him having a rough one, but that didnât mean that your ending had to be so treacherous.Â
The gentle gesture of him pushing the strands of hair that fell over your face, sent shivers down your spine, a sort of electric touch that should have had you running away but all you felt was the need for more. He didnât miss the way your eyes shot down to his lips, staring at them wondering his next moves before you met his again.Â
âIâm gonna kiss you now, if thatâs okay.â He whispered the words ever so quietly, leaving them to linger in the space as a delicate invitation hoping it was one youâd accept.Â
âMore than okay.â You nodded, closing your eyes, feeling his face inch closer to yours.
The first touch of his lips upon yours felt like sparks flying, holy ground beneath you both as you took your time, exploring everything in between â what you imagined it would be like and the unexpected that had you both going down the twists and turns just trying to familiarize yourself with each other. Â
His lips moved against yours unhurried, gentle but deliberate, not daring to miss even an inch of you. You felt as if he was taking your breath away, leaving you to succumb to a sort of poise that usually never came this easily. With every press and swipe across your lips, you were jumping and falling into somewhere you never wanted to leave.Â
You nearly wanted to cry when he pulled away, leaving you only to catch your breath, his chest moving up and down deeply, while you were ready to go again and again andâ
âW-was that okay?â He asked, fighting the urge to kiss you again and make you go dizzy.Â
You smiled like an idiot, lips blushing with a pink as bright as your cheeks.
âPerfect. Can we do it again.â
âYeah.â He beamed, moving to hover up on his elbows with his face above yours, giving you the access to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you.Â
The second kiss was filled with hunger, the both of you trying to make up for the lost time you had spent at each other's throats when you could've been glued to each other's mouths. But you were positive you would both be able to make up for it eventually, and tonight felt like it was going to be the first of many.Â
His teeth barely grazed over your bottom lip, prompting a moan to rip through your throat before you pulled away breathlessly.Â
âIâI want you.â You spoke, voice full teetering between desperation and confidence.Â
Steve wasnât expecting it at all despite the circumstances that just took place with the kiss. Heâd be fine if all you wanted to do was spend the rest of the night making out like depraved teenagers or if you wanted to cuddle until you fell asleep.Â
He swallowed, looking into your eyes searching for any hesitancy on your features but you were positive that there wasnât anything you wanted more than Steve.
âAre you sure?â He implored, desperately wanting to hear the words fall from your lips.Â
âWith everything inside of me.â You nodded with a smile bringing your lips back to his once more, not being able to help yourself.Â
You could feel his grin against yours, a self indulgent one that still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was kissing you with every fiber of his being hoping that with each press and slide it would compensate for how much of an asshole heâd been to you.Â
He moved his lips, creating a trail of kisses over your jaw and down your neck, gently sucking the skin to pepper you in love bites.Â
âP-please, Steve,â You moaned, moving your head to give him more access to the sweet spot on your neck, âNeed more.âÂ
He licked over the hickey, pressing a quick kiss to the developing bruise before he unwrapped your arms from his neck, placing them on your sides. Nudging your shoulder a bit, you laid fully on your back while he moved onto his knees, staring at you with a look so promising and true. Â
âYou donât have to beg, at least not for tonight. I swear.â
His fingers smoothed over your sides feeling the warmth coming to you quicker now.Â
âI want youâŠso so bad.â You pouted, reaching for his hands to intertwine in yours.Â
âYou have me.â
He brought yours up, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand before he let go and hovered above the waistband of your shorts.
âCan I?â
You nodded, lifting your hips slightly as he glided them off your legs, stripping away one layer of clothing yet revealing another â a black, lacy, number that definitely wasnât planned for tonight, but he wasnât complaining, in fact he found it a little humorous taking into the account the occasion.Â
âYou packed a thong for camping?â
Steve snorted lightly, kissing the inside of your thigh as you blushed, tucking your cheek into your shoulder.
âIâŠI was rushing and packed it accidentally.â You told him, silently thanking the universe and your horrible planning that somehow got this perfectly.Â
âLucky me.â He rasped, toying with the lace around your hip bone, peppering kisses across your thighs, not making any move to strip you free of them yet as he wanted to worship all of you first.Â
You sat up slightly, running your hand over his covered shoulder blade.
âC-could you take your shirt off?â
 âCourse I can.â He nodded quickly, sitting up just enough to work his arms through the shirt.
The garment was quickly pulled off his body, thrown off the side wherever he had flung your shorts.Â
âI can take mine off, tooââ You started, moving up a bit more as you pulled at the bottom of your cami but before you could get any farther, he stopped you, squeezing your wrist gently.
âOnly if you want to, sâokay if you donât.â He assured you, wanting to know this was all about you being comfortable.
You smiled warmly and shook your head at his politeness, still trying to take all of him in, not just for the body before you, but for how attentive he had been towards you.Â
âNo, I do⊠I justâjust wanted to feel more of you, thatâs why I asked.â You explained with a light laugh.Â
âYouâre cute.â He chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as you pulled the material over your head discarding it.
Absentmindedly your arms wrapped around yourself, bashfully trying to hide away as if that would make Steve forget that you were topless in front of him. Finally he got to see what the slivers of skin that was hidden away beneath clothing or in this case, made an appearance just hours ago.
âDonât hide. Youâre so beautiful.â Steve spoke softly, reassuring you of whatever nervousness you were feeling, slowly lowering your arms down letting him see you completely.Â
You could see and hear it in the way his breath hitched in his throat, eyes stuck on your chest before a smirk played on his features and he finally trailed them back up to your eyes.Â
âSo youâre always excited to see me, then?â He teased, reaching up to run his hands along your ribcage, feeling your laughter rumble beneath his skin.
âShut up.â You chided, pushing playfully at his shoulder.Â
âYou got just the thing for me to do just that.â He tilted his head down and you nodded, giving him the green light to do what he pleased.
His lips wrapped around your sensitive skin, peak hardening in this mouth while the other was met with the flick and roll of his fingers. You were sure by the end of it, your chest would be littered with love bites of all shapes and sizes. Steve made the extra effort to glide across your chest, showing both breasts the attention they so rightfully deserved with his mark left behind.Â
âMmm, S-steve.â You moaned, arching up into him and nails grazing at the nape of his neck.Â
âGotta make up for lost time.â He mumbled against your, sucking another hickey but this time right above your sternum, completing the other half to make a lopsided heart that youâd see in the morning.Â
âI want more.â You begged, finally getting the courage to pull him away, eyes peering down at him.Â
He smacked his lips, nodding as he leaned up and pecked your lips, murmuring against them.
âI got you, princess.â
His kisses trailed down your body, taking his sweet time leaving your skin with a plethora of hickies, some small and subtle, and others that would settle darker by morning. Something about it, the possessiveness of it all added to the longing, knowing he was marking you as his â and he was the only person you wanted to belong to right now⊠forever even.Â
Placing a final kiss above the waistband of your intimates, he looked up at you, toying with the fabric.Â
âLet me get these off you, yeah?â
You hummed, letting your feet sit flat on the comforter, slightly lifting your hips up to help him. His fingers slipped under the lace, tugging them away from your core and off your legs, putting them off to the side.Â
âSo fucking pretty.â He murmured, gently pulling your knees wider apart enough for him to slot himself between them and lay on his stomach.Â
His eyes were fixated on your core, taking you in with such hunger but at the same time awe, as if he was admiring the most beautiful work of art just before he would dig his claws into it. No ones had ever looked at you like that, taking their time and drinking you in, it almost made you want to shoo him away with all the attention he was giving you.Â
âSteveeee.â You whined, laughing behind your hands that covered your face.Â
âWhyâre you hiding?â He puffed out a short laugh, splaying his hands over your stomach rubbing gently.Â
You pulled fingers apart, staring at him timidly. âIâI donât know, I just never thought that weâd⊠you know.â
Stop pretending like we hated each other and confessed our feeling then deciding to fuck in a dingy tent in the middle of nowhere? Yeah he totally knew what you meant.Â
âI know what you mean,â He placed a reassuring kiss on the inside of your knee.
âWe can stop whenever you want okay? No questions asked, you say the word and Iâll stop and weâll put our clothes back on andââ
âI donât want to stop. Promise, just a little nervous.â You assured him, sitting up slightly to bring your hand to his cheek, thumbing the freckles peppering his skin.Â
âDonât be, Iâm gonna make you feel so good. I promise.â He smiled, leaning into your touch and kissing the pulse point on your wrist.Â
Steve nodded, silently telling you to lie back and let him fulfill his promise which you were sure he was going to over deliver on. And god were you right.Â
His tongue swiped between your folds, shuddering beneath him you couldnât help pinch your eyes closed trying to bottle up the feeling and keep it in your memory forever.Â
âF-fuck,â You moaned, relished in the feeling of each pass and kiss, âFeels so good, Steve.â
His thumb swiped over your clit, breath fanning over your skin as he watched your back arch with a smirk on his face.
âTold you so, princess.â
He dove back in, tongue flicking over your sensitive button while he worked two fingers into you slowly. The stretch of his thick digits and the mixture of his warm tongue sent your hands flying, in search of something to grab and immediately you went for Steveâs hand.Â
Somehow through the pleasure you didnât feel the tape on his hand, that is until you squeezed and felt the layer blocking the contact of skin on his. The tape slightly crumpled in your hold causing your eyes to fly open, staring down at him.Â
âS-shit, Iâm so sorry!â You whispered, quickly letting go of his hand nearly backing away from Steve thinking that you hurt him.
His fingers abruptly left your core, quickly slinging his arm over your hips stopping you from moving away from him. The bad hand immediately reached out for yours, intertwining your fingers together despite your uncertainty that didnât want to immediately hook between his.Â
âSâokay, Iâm okay, promise.â He assured you, kissing your mound before shooting you a wink as he squeezed yours.
âYou can grab my hand, squeeze as tight as you want. The nurse who wrapped it up did a hell of a job, thing isnât gonna hurt me.â
It made you giggle, kissing his knuckles, murmuring against them, âHmm, still, Iâm sorry.â
He shook his head, lips brushing against your center as he got back to work.
âShhh itâs okay.â
Steve was always more of a giver, something he usually bragged about and you thought was absolute bullshit, but now you understood seeing as though he was definitely giving you something to come back for, in more ways than one.Â
His tongue dipped lower, dragged up from your aching hole to your sensitive clit.
âYou like that?â his voice vibrated across your sensitive skin, sending your body into squirms.Â
âYesâŠp-please, right there,â You moaned, gripping his hand tightly as he repeated the action. âJust like that, baby.â
âSay it again.â He demanded though it more so came out as a desperate plea.Â
âBaby?âÂ
He let out a groan, nipping at the inside of your thigh, âI love hearing it from youâŠcâmon, let me get you there, baby.â
It was the end of the beginning from then on out with one goal in his head. Feasting on you like you were his last meal trying to savor your sweetness and all at once engrain the image of your blissful face in his mind and those addicting moans that dared to get louder with every second that passed.Â
âIâm so close.â You whispered, trying to keep your voice down, âIâI, Steve, baby, please.âÂ
Your thighs began shaking around his head, stomach heaving in deeper and twisting tightly, teeth digging into your lip trying to muffle the sounds of pleasure that wanted to escape, and your hand clutching onto his for dear life â the only thing grounding you while his mouth sent you into ecstasy.Â
âCum for me.â He vibrated against you, lips wrapped around your bud as he sucked and watched you explode.Â
âBaby, f-fuck.â You gasped, looking down to meet his eyes before it was too much for you to handle.Â
Euphoria washed over you, similarly to the colors of the sunset. Bright oranges and pinks flashed across your vision, painting your skin with the feverish warmth before it fizzled out into darkness, specks of white making their appearance as your body buzzed.
Steve didnât pull away until you stopped moving your hips into and away from him, trying to chase and escape the pleasure all at once until you came down. Even then he didnât dare to leave you just yet, taking his time to wait until you came down from your high. He pressed gentle kisses over your inner thighs, making his way up to your midsection, resting his chin there, your chest moving beneath him as you caught your breath.Â
âHey pretty.â He murmured, your eyes peeking open to see him â lips and chin coated with a sheen of you in the best way possible.Â
You swallowed, giving his hand three squeezes and you cleared your throat from the hoarseness, âH-hi Stevie.â
Stevie. It was a stupid nickname you used against him all the time because he hated it, but right now it seemed to have the same effect on him as you calling him baby just a little while ago.Â
Using his elbows as leverage, he scooted up to you chuckling as you pulled him down bringing his lips to yours as you tasted your essences on him. Your legs hiked up around his hips, bringing his clothed crotch down to your core, just a piece of fabric separating you both, but even then the tent in his pants wasnât hard to pick up on.Â
âLay down for me, please.â You mumbled against his lips, poorly attempting to roll him on his back despite his sheer strength.Â
He pulled away only slightly, furrowing his brows at you. âBaby, baby, we donât have to if youââ
âI want to, so bad,â You pressed your hips up into him, inducing a moan to rip from his mouth, though still he didnât roll over just yet.Â
You frowned, loosening your legs, hoping you didnât cross the line, âDo you not want to?â
Quickly he shook his head, moving to hold your face in his hands. âI do, sweetheart, you donât know how badly I want to have you. But I kinda feel horrible here,â He grimaced, face twisting with embarrassment.Â
âW-was hoping to have our first time together in a bed, preferably mine but yours could work too, butââ
âWait!â You cut him off with surprise, lips curling up.
âYou thought about this?â You suspected with a grin, teasing him with a poke on the cheek.
He tried to play it off with an unconvincing scoff that didnât cover the croak in his voice, âM-maybe?âÂ
You beamed, running your thumb along his bottom lip, batting your eyes up at him. âWell if youâre okay with it, we can totally use your bed the next time, and the next, and then theââ
âOf course.â He agreed quickly, making you laugh as you pushed his chest away
âLay down for me, baby.â
He did as you said, taking your spot as you sat up on your knees pulling at the waistband of his sweats, working them off his ankles. His cock sprung up, the tip blushing with a bright read, aching and throbbing to be inside of you.Â
âCommando? And you want to call me naughty?â You teased, licking the palm of your hand and wrapping it around his length, pumping slowly.Â
He let out a shaky laugh, cursing at himself, âKinda was regretting it earlier.âÂ
âWhyâs that?â You began shifting to lay flat on your stomach.Â
âWas worried youâd notice.â He mumbled.Â
His hands reach out to run up and down your back, soothing your skin desperately wanting to touch you despite the closeness already.Â
âNotice what?â You hummed gazing up at him.Â
âHow hard I got when y-you wrapped me up.â He admitted, shuddering when you licked a stripe from the base to his glistening tip.Â
âMe serving you do it for you?â You half-joked, pepping kisses back down.Â
âFuck no, that wasnât itâŠâ He shook his head, sitting up slightly to watch you.Â
âYou justâf-fuck, you knew what you were doing and you took control and youâŠyou fucking called me big boy and t-the way you bit the tape off.â
Clearly you wounded him up so much, something you never thought was capable, but alas the hate you both supposedly shared for each other had no bounds when it came to this sort of tension.Â
âMake a mess for me big boy, and Iâll clean it up, yeah?â You winked, finally giving him what he wanted, wrapping your mouth around him.Â
âS-shit, baby.â He hissed moving your hair towards one side to see you clearly.Â
âMaking me feel so good, princess.â His hips resisted the want to thrust up into your mouth, controlling himself knowing that good things always took time and you were already making him feel great.Â
âSo big.â You murmured, messily kissing the tip of his cock, giggling at the way his hips stuttered up knocking closer to your lips.Â
âJust right for you though right? Only yours baby.â He groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillows.Â
âMhmm,â you hummed, wrapping your lips around the tip, sending vibrations up his sensitive length.
âPretty too.â You whispered, pulling away teasingly.Â
He let out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head ridiculously. âCanât be when Iâve got the prettiest sight right here.â
The compliment went straight to your core, the need to make him feel good was the motivation in your movements. Your wrist moved over the part that you couldnât quite fit in your mouth.Â
âThat's it baby, taking me so well,â He praised lowly trying to keep his voice quiet enough for just you to hear.Â
His fingers threaded through the roots of your hair, neither pulling or pushing, just holding you there and letting you go at your own pace.Â
âShit, babe, yâgotta stop.â He hissed, tugging you off his length as you moaned, pouting up at him.
âWant to taste youâŠplease Stevie?â You begged, mouth trailing down to his heavy sack, taking one of them in your mouth, before popping off only to mumble against them, âLet me taste you, please baby.âÂ
How was he going to deny you, then?
âF-fucking shit, yeah, okay doll, Iâll give it to you.â He moaned, nodding more so at himself, trying to starve off the orgasm as long as he could knowing he was going to burst any second now.Â
You grinned, releasing his balls with a pop, quickly taking him into your mouth again.Â
âIâm c-cumming, fuckââÂ
He let the rest die in his throat, knowing that if he went any longer heâd wake up your friends and cause an even bigger mess that he nor you wanted to clean up right now.Â
âHow was that?â You grinned, swiping your thumbs over the inner corners of your mouth, sucking off the remnants of him.Â
The act alone made his cock twitch, somehow springing back up ready for you.Â
âCâmere, you minx.â He whispered with a smirk, threading his hands towards the back of your head to gently tug you up to his face.Â
âHmmm, Steve.â You giggled, letting it get cut short with his lips pressing deeply onto yours.
âYouâre making it very hard for me to hate you.â He accused, pulling away from you with a playful smirk.Â
âYou or your dick?â You wiggled your brows, eyes lowering between the both of you where his hardness rested against his thigh.Â
âIâm kidding⊠about the me hating you thing, not you making me hard.â He clarified, holding your chin between his forefingers.Â
It was clear that the both of you couldnât really hate each other.Â
âYou wanna be on top? I think itâll be easier for you to control it at your pace.â He suggested, giving your hips a squeeze before letting his hands roam across your bottom.Â
âOkay.â You whispered, forehead resting against his as he snuck a hand between you both, pumping his length one, two, three times before slowly lowering yourself on him.Â
Taking in a deep breath, your eyes pinched closed, a gasp leaving your mouth feeling his breach your walls.Â
âSâokay, baby, take your time.â He murmured, kissing the tip of your noses while his hands rubbed comforting circles over your hip.Â
âY-youâre so deep already.â You whined, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the stretch.Â
His bottom lip jutted out, pouting at you with his eyes so soft, though his mouth spoke a tune so condescending and downright filthy.
âAww baby, I know, but youâre taking it so well right?â He went a step further, resting his palm over your cheek, prompting you to look him in the eyes as you nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel all of him.
Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling it away from your cheek, âTouch me, please? I-I just need a littleââÂ
He understood immediately, dropping the cocky facade for just a moment to make you feel the most comfortable knowing the first time was always the most intense.Â
âShhh, I got you, Iâm right here.â He swiped his tongue over two digits, working them between your bodies until he found your clit, rubbing gentle circles over the bud, just enough to help distract you from the initial stretch.Â
âO-oh, fuck, Steve.â You keened, focusing on the pleasure and stretch jumbled all in one.Â
âThatâs a good girl.â He praised lowly.Â
You tightened around his girth, eyes shutting blissfully at the overwhelming feeling and the praise that spilled past his lips. He noticed it right away, chuckling more so at himself because all of the times he had called you pet names for fun, perhaps you liked it more than you let on.Â
âYou like being called a good girl?â He challenged, his free hand tightening around your hips to stop you from rocking against him.Â
You whined through a nod, opening your eyes and pleading for him to let you keep up the movements.Â
âWords.â He urged, still not giving into you until he heard what he needed to hear.Â
You swallowed thickly, lips parting as you whispered softly. âYâyeah, like when you call me that.âÂ
He smirked, leaning up just enough to peck your lips, mumbling against them as his arm loosened from your hips and he settled comfortably on his back. Slowly but surely your hips proceeded where they left off, moving experimentally taking the time to adjust to his sheer size.Â
âAtta girl, gotta tell me what you like so I can make you feel good baby.âÂ
âL-like it when you talk to me.âÂ
âYou do?âÂ
You hummed quickly, nodding your head, âSo much.âÂ
Growing needier you lifted your hips up slightly before fucking yourself back down onto him. Your lips parted with a pleasurable moan while he growled, throwing his head back against the pillows.Â
âOh, there you go sweet girl. Fuck, already taking me so good.â He said, digging his fingertips into your hip bone.Â
âF-full, mâso full of you.â You sighed, slowly repeating your movements trying to make it last as long as you could.Â
âBut you love it right?â He murmured, words soothing and arousing at the same time.Â
You nodded admittingly, âPlease donât stopâŠS-steve please,âÂ
The shake of your thighs and the uneven grinding told him all he needed to know, and he was more than happy to let you sit back and give you your second fix of the night.Â
He pressed himself off his back, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you close. Your limbs enveloping his neck while you rested your forehead against his, breathy moans leaving your lips as the new position pushed him deeper within you if that was even possible.Â
Steveâs lips brushed yours, an oath tumbling past them, âI wonât baby, promise. Just wanna make you feel good okay? Be a good girl.âÂ
It was all you needed to hear before the waves of pleasure came crashing down with no breaks. You were practically putty in his hands, your hips moving against him the way he wanted you to. He set the pace and found the rhythm that had you nearly slumping against him.Â
âSo fucking tight, your pussyâs squeezing me baby,â He muttered, lifting your hips higher as his own thrusted deeper from below.
âMaking me feel so good, princess. Does it feel good for you too? Just what you need right?âÂ
If you werenât so blissed out with pleasure, perhaps you would have the ability to actually give him the words he wanted to hear, but you felt an entire universe away, so caught up in Steve and everything he was making you feel. His words were only taking you higher, adding to pleasure and bringing you closer to the end.Â
You managed to take a sharp breath in, jaw shaking as your teary eyes blinked at him, âJ-just need you nowâŠonly want you.âÂ
He moaned darkly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tried to starve off his own orgasm that was teetering the edge. The only thing keeping him from letting go was making sure that you got there first, just so he could watch you unravel and hear the sweet sounds that could never be erased from his memory.Â
âCâmere, sweetheart,âÂ
His thrusts slowed just enough for one of his hands to snake up towards the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss before guiding your head into the juncture of his neck.Â
âItâll go deeper this way,â He murmured, placing a quick peck to your cheek before continuing the onslaught of ecstasy.Â
âOh GodâŠSteveâŠ.â You whimpered, nails digging into his skin.Â
âYouâre mine now.â He said through gritted teeth, fingertips practically bruising your back, âno oneâs gonna get you like this except me, got that?âÂ
All you could do was nod against him, humming out an agreement as you tried to keep your voice down, finally aware that your friends would be able to hear you both if you didnât try to get a semblance of control.Â
âFuck, shit babe, so perfect, just taking all of me inside you huh? Youâre the only one who ever made me feel thisâ shit, so good.âÂ
He was just making it harder for you to keep quiet at that point.Â
âOâonly want youâŠIâI only want you like this.â You murmured, pulling your face away from his neck just enough for his eyes to catch yours.Â
Steve couldnât help himself, thrusting up into you with a slow yet deep vigor, bringing his lips to yours and stealing your breath away. He never quite imagined that this was the way you both would be confessing your feelings and begging to finally be each othersâ but he wasnât complaining â he just wanted to seal the deal and show you how real it was to him.Â
âCum for me, baby. Be a good girl and do it for meâŠjust me.â He mumbled against you, feeling the tightening around his shaft, the convulsing of your walls signaling your release.Â
âF-fuck! Oh my god, Steve.âÂ
Your body shook, eyes shutting tightly as your hips rutted against his stilled ones letting you ride out your orgasm as he held your tight and shushed your moans soothingly.Â
You slowly opened your eyes, staring at him dazingly, âWanna feel you cum, give it to me, please.âÂ
He nodded, letting your face untuck itself from his neck and instead grabbing his cheeks to keep his eyes on yours. Eyes silently begging for his release while your lips parted with shallow moans still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm followed by a small ripple of pleasure that came again.Â
His thrusts became frantic, nose flaring with a deep breath taken, pushing his hips as far as they could go forcing you to collapse against him as he filled you.
âThatâs it, babyâŠhmm, so deep.â You smiled lazily into his chest, nails raking down gently across his shoulders and down his arms as he came down.Â
His heartbeat rang through your ears along with the uneven breathing the both of you were sharing, letting theÂ
âWell,â He huffed, staring down at you, smoothing your tousled hair down, âThatâs one way to warm up.âÂ
You rolled your eyes playfully, smacking his cheek with a soft pat, âHypothermia wasnât gonna kill me. You almost did.âÂ
âDid I really fuck you that good?â He smirked smugly.Â
âDonât make me start hating you, again.â You threatened with a yawn, eyes fluttering shut and relaxing into him.Â
âKidding babe,â He said, kissing the top of your head before patting the small of your back, âLet me get some clothes on you.âÂ
He pulled out of you, quietly apologizing for the emptiness before cleaning you and himself up. His t-shirt covered your body and he managed to slip your underwear back over your legs. Steve settled for his sweatpants, no shirt, just letting the blanket and your body heat keep him warm throughout the night.Â
âWeâll talk about this moreâŠin the morning? Oâor when we get back home?â You proposed sleepily, snuggling deeper into his body, weakly throwing one of your legs over his hips.Â
His big hands came down under the blanket, caressing your skin with soft passes as he hummed pulling you closer, âYeah baby, weâll talk about it, then.âÂ
There you and Steve Harrington were, spending your first night together but not as mortal enemies â you guys had practically fucked the hatred out of each other, but really... it never existed in the first place.Â
BONUS SCENE:Â
You did a one over at the trunk of the van, mentally ticking off every item and looking back at the campsite to make sure you all didnât leave anything behind. Steve was busy checking the tires making sure they all had enough air for the drive back that way there would be no issues. You shut the trunk closed, making your way over to the passenger door that was kicked open with Eddie smoking a cigarette.Â
âYouâre in my seat.â You cross your arms over your chest, foot tapping against the asphalt as Eddie stared at you confused. Â
âYouâre mistakenâŠthis is my seat.â He retorted with a chuckle, gesturing to himself before blowing out a puff of smoke into the air.
âNot anymore.âÂ
âItâs literally my van.âÂ
You rolled your eyes, lamely gesturing back to the site where the tents were once set up, âAnd you literally kicked me out of my tent to almost freeze to death, therefore you owe me. Now get out of my seat.âÂ
âIâm not moving.â He said, standing his ground.Â
âMove.â You commanded, reaching to tug him by the arm though he didnât budge.Â
âNope.âÂ
âFine,â You huffed, dropping his arm before calling out, âSteve!âÂ
He came around the front of the van, dusting his hands off and jutting his chin towards the both of you.
âWhatâs going on?â
You pouted deeply, eyes sulking towards your friend who tsked and rolled his eyes at your feigned innocence. âEddie wonât let me sit in the passenger seat.âÂ
âMy van, my rules.â Eddie smirked, tapping the hood of the car.Â
Steve stared at you both, shaking his head in amusement before turning to his friend, âDude, câmon, just let her sit up front this once.âÂ
Eddieâs face twisted in betrayal, obviously Steve was already wrapped around your pinky and he just couldnât believe he was this easy. âYouâre shitting me right? I thought I was your right hand man Harrington?âÂ
You snorted, eyes glancing up at Steve with a blush coating your cheeks, âOh trust me he doesnât need a right hand anything when he has meââÂ
Eddie faked a gag, finally relenting and stepping out of the seat. He stubbed out his cigarette on the gravel and waved his hands in surrender.Â
âTake it for all I care! Just keep your goddamn hands to yourself, and I mean it Steve, both hands on the wheel!â He shouted, whipping the back door open and cramming himself between the rest of your friends who laughed at him for thinking that Steve was going to save his ass.Â
âYou must be proud of yourself, huh?â Steve chuckled, giving you a hand as you stepped up the siding and slid into the seat comfortably.Â
âVery.â You responded, bending out an inch to peck his lips not caring that your friends saw the act.
Steve smiled against your lips, hands coming to rest over your waist, practically lurching himself across your body as you whispered quietly for only him to hear.Â
âNow come on⊠you promised we would use your bed the next right, remember.âÂ
His eyes widened, cheeks turning red as he swallowed and finally pulled himself away from you, âOh I remember.â He smiled, tapping your knee before he shut your door, âBuckle up, princess.â
đ reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! đ
a/n: so this is my very first enemies to lover fics...(at least i think it is????), this was actutally supposed to be very short and brief, almost a one shot/blurb kinda thing but it turned into a feature length fic...is anyone surprised hahaha. anyways, i hope you guys like this!!! i don't usually write smut because I feel like i suck at writing it and describing it but i hope i was able to do this fic justice -- let me know what you guys think and thank you so much for sticking around <;3
taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3
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Yay! It's been a while guys. Back to reading some fics while I'm free for a bit.
Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.
And my, my love had been frozen. Deep blue, but you painted me golden.
Warnings: 18+, mdni! there will be smut in the future chapters. enemies to lovers, 'she fell first, he fell harder' kind of trope, allusions to unrequited love, mentions of death, injuries, allusions to self hatred, mentions of bullying, this story is set post s4, Vecna and the upside down are gone. slow burn. âhateâ sex. fwb kinda thing but theyâre âenemiesâ. mean!reader, mean!Steve, hurt/comfort, happy ending.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Summary: You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?
âĄ
Prologue
Chapter one âïž Waiting Room
Chapter two âïž I want you to notice, when Iâm not around
Chapter three âïž So if you need to be mean, be mean to me
Chapter four âïž Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness
Chapter five âïž'Cause you know it could never be
Chapter six âïž Secrets I have held in my heart
Chapter seven âïž Got a feeling your electric touch, could fill this ghost town up with life
Chapter eight âïž Say my name and everything just stops
Chapter nine âïž And I'll show you if you let me, girl
Chapter ten âïž Weigh down on me, stay 'til morning
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DANCING WITH MYSELF
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đđđ„đ„ đđšđź đđąđ§đ
summary . . . You are content with watching Eddie Munson from afar, ignoring the giant what-if that looms over you. It's safer that way. But after a shitty party, some weed and a lot of heart ache, it becomes clear that you two share more than a class. If only the rest of your world didn't just think you were two stupid kids not meant for each other. | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
series warnings: fluff, angst, drugs, references to sex, PTSD, smut in later parts.
a/n: inspired by the song Call You Mine and my sister's first love, and a book called The Bad Seed lol. Buckle down, because it's gonna send your emotions on a ride. Takes place directly before the Penny Verse.
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Right Where You Left Me
Pairing:Â Steve Harrington x Fem!reader
Word Count:Â 10.1k
Content Warnings:Â Angst, Lovers to strangers kinda deal ya know, some cursing.
Summary:Â It's the summer before you head off to college, and there's a fear about that decision that keeps creeping in. You try not to let it drown you, spending time making summer plans for your friends and with your boyfriend Steve. It feels like you can do this, and you're happy to be staring into the summer ready to make memories that will carry you into college. However, unbeknownst to you something else is brewing and Steve has plans of his own. One unexpected breakup later and your summer now looks a lot more like trying to overcome heartbreak.
Author Note:Â I'm the only one to read over this, so me and Grammarly are all I have regarding editing. Also, I guess this is just what I write now! Inspired by my favorite sad girl songs, if you know them I'm sure you'll see them. I have ideas for a part 2 of this if anyone would be interested? All of this was supposed to be a one-shot type of thing, but it started getting long. Part two would be a resolution as we fade into a happy ending, and get some much needed answers.
Ao3 Link - In case you want to read it there
Steve Harrington is soft smiles passed your way over the tops of all the children he babysits heads. He is weekend movie nights spent curled up next to one another on his couch, so close that you sometimes think you could become one person if you tried hard enough. Heâs not your first relationship, but sometimes when you canât sleep at night thereâs a reoccurring thought that he is going to be your last. Steve has been orbiting around your life since elementary school, close but never within reach. That was the way, only knowing him through rumors passed around the halls of Hawkins High, two passing ships in the hallway between classes. This last year though has brought him into your world, no longer is he a passing comet that you stop to stare at. Now heâs yours and your mom will chide and say itâs just high school love, but you canât imagine a world where his hand doesnât stay attached to yours. Call it whatever you want, but something about this just feels too real. The kind of love you hear about in novels, the kind people wax poetic structures about. Youâre not sure what you did in a past life, or what karma you collected over time, but youâre thankful for the universe putting the two of you together.
The only bleak part of your future with Steve comes after summer ends. Youâve just graduated, and school is expected of you in a way that you know you canât turn down. Steve has been more than understanding, itâs a pressure he recognizes from his parents. You have no clue what you want to do but your dad swears that youâll figure it out when you get there. You manage to get into a good school but itâs 5 hours away from Hawkins. Your parents are ecstatic, they canât stop talking about all the ways youâre going to grow in this next phase of your life. Your parents are the people who met in college, and even though they wonât say it thereâs something about you needing to attend that feels a little like them trying to relive their glory days. You love them but youâre not sure if they know you or if they really listen when you talk.
You find that if you put on a smile and nod along to what they say though it gets you through conversations faster. Itâs a small price to pay so you can escape the house and rush to Steve. Steve who you hate to leave behind, sweet Steve who has been there to hold your hand and be your rock through it all. Youâre not sure if youâd be able to put up with your parentsâ expectations if he wasnât there with you holding you up. You worry you put too much on him like you weigh him down the same way your parents tend to do. Sometimes you tell him your concerns, and heâs always quick to quiet the fear.
The thing with Steve is he is so soft sometimes, and yet you canât help but feel protected in his arms. Still though, even as he brushes your hair to the side, as his lips touch yours and he peppers you with affection and reassurance, you make a vow to yourself to try and reduce how much you complain. You canât stop the anxiety that sometimes spikes up despite his kindness that maybe this all hurts a little too much for him. After all, his family held similar expectations for him. You know that his dad is a different kind of mean and demanding than yours. Your family feels like a small-time problem when put into the perspective of Steveâs parents.
You have a mantra you follow, reminding yourself that school, as daunting as it is, is still months away. You have a whole summer to forget about it all. A whole summer of nothing but your friends and Steve. You know youâll be right next door at the arcade, your shifts and Steveâs always lining up because of a favor Keith owed you. There are plans in place that will carry you through. Thereâs the drive-in and their Friday night movie deals, sunny days that will be spent at Loverâs Lake, the regular Sunday brunch at your favorite diner, and so much more. You make sure to focus on those things, knowing that all of it will be enough to get you through that first semester of school once you finally go.
However, like with most things that seem to happen in Hawkins, your good luck runs out. You hate to say it, but you didnât see it coming. Delusional bliss is apparently where youâve been living and the rose-colored glasses you didnât know you were wearing are snatched off your face without a moment of hesitation. Looking back the signs will be there in glaring neon colors, and you will hate yourself for missing them. For missing them to the point that you couldnât even backtrack to fix where your so-called perfect relationship went off the tracks.
It's a week into summer and things are not at all going to plan. Your parents are pressuring you to cut your summer short and go to school three weeks early so you can settle in for classes. And honestly, itâs not the worst idea and if you were anyone else maybe it would be appealing. However, youâre on a fixed time frame and you donât plan to give up one ounce of time with Steve and your friends before you absolutely must. Despite schedules syncing up, thereâs a distance growing between you and Steve. At the time you understand, there are kids to be driven around and then his parents unexpectedly show up back home. You donât blame him for the distance, you take it in stride and offer your support just like heâs been doing for you. The future version of yourself, will look back and call you an idiot for not digging deeper. But why would you? In all the time, though maybe it hasnât been that long, Steve has never once been the cause of your anxiety. Never once has he ever done anything to make you question your relationship, or whether you can trust him or not.
After a week of only seeing Steve in passing and on lunch breaks, you finally get the chance to have uninterrupted time with Steve. He catches you on a break at work and asks if you want to get dinner once your shifts end. He doesnât carry that same glowing smile he always does when he drops these moments on you, but you brush the thought aside assuming this is the residual damage from his parents. Youâre just happy at the prospect of being with Steve so youâre quick to agree, and even quicker to pull him in for a kiss to seal the deal. In your excitement, you donât notice how this kiss doesnât feel like a welcomed hello, and later youâll tell yourself that it was the first sign of goodbye. But in the moment Steve is pulling away, and heâs looking at you like he's tracing and memorizing everything about you. âIâll see you after work,â is the parting sentence before heâs jogging back to Family Video.
Steve and you meet in the middle of your two jobs, and he holds out his hand just like he always does. He leads you to his car, asking you about your day. You tell him about the party coming in, and about all the different characters of teens who came in. You prattle on and on, all the way to your favorite diner. You ask him about his day and try to get him to talk more. A quiet Steve, with eyes not shining, is a version you hate to see. You want nothing more than to pick him up, hopefully, wash off all the grime that his parents so obviously threw on him in the short week they were home. Itâs always hard doing this walk and dance, the scars his parents leave him with always cut deeper than you have an awareness of. But itâs never this impossible, by the time youâre leaving the diner youâre more worried about what happened during this visit home than you ever have been. Youâve learned with Steve that when it comes to his parents you canât poke too much otherwise, he gets spooked. Normally, he finds a way to talk about it usually when youâre both back at his place and the light is off for the night. When itâs so dark in his room that you canât see the way his face is lined with grief, and pain that he shouldnât have to experience. Youâre so used to the pattern that you donât mind the car ride after dinner being just the sound of the radio. Itâs not unwelcomed, itâs just a part of the pieces that happen, which is why youâre surprised when Steve parks in front of your house.
âOh, are we not going to yours?â Your brow is furrowed as you turn in your seat to face Steve. Even when you donât stay at his place, he still is always looking at you when you turn to leave. This time though Steveâs hands are still holding on to the steering wheel, and he canât turn to face you when he finally gathers the ability to reply. âI donât think we should see each other anymore.â
The radio is still on, and your ears pick up Whitney Houston singing a new song thatâs been playing everywhere. âWhat do you mean,â your stomach feels like itâs falling right out of you and your brain is giving radio silence as you try to gain some understanding of what the hell is going on. You watch as Steve takes a deep breath like heâs centering himself before turning to face you. Every time Steve has ever looked at you itâs been with nothing but softness, an unquestioning gaze that always tells you what heâs thinking. The Steve before you though, these are eyes that arenât that sweet look he normally gives you. Instead, this one is cold, one that you can barely recall. You have to pull at memories from his reign as King Steve to find some type of look thatâs like the one you receive now.
âI just donât think this is working,â he shrugs like this isnât the biggest thing to ever happen before. Like heâs telling you something that should be common knowledge.
âI donât understand, Steve.â Thereâs a burning feeling in the corners of your eyes. The sensation is a warning that if you donât pull it together, youâre going to start crying. You donât know how to pull it together because what little Steve is telling you sounds an awful like a breakup.
Steve sighs, something heavy like heâs just so tired of having to explain himself. Itâs an odd sound and it rubs you raw because he hasnât explained anything. How can he already be tired of a conversation that makes no sense?
âLook, I donât want this to be harder than it is,â you cut him off before he can continue. âSo donât make it hard, just tell me whatâs going on and why youâre saying all of this.â You donât recognize your voice. The pleading tone sounds watery and not at all like what you know yourself to be. You donât think youâve ever begged someone in this way before.
âI just donât feel the same way for you,â itâs so blunt and to the point that it leaves no room for argument.
âI donât understand,â youâre repeating yourself and you hate that. Youâre not stupid, you can usually piece things together faster than this. The phrase, âhaving the rug pulled out from under youâ rattles around in a way that suddenly makes total sense.
âI donât know how to explain it any better. I donât want to date you anymore. I donât want to see you.â You didnât realize before that the cold tone he was using still allowed for kindness. In this final statement, his words are ice, and you feel like you just took a plunge into Loverâs Lake in the middle of winter.
You have more you want to say, questions that you feel need to be asked. If you stay though you feel like youâre not going to get them, and honestly, itâs taking more energy to keep yourself together than it would be to stay. Youâre not sure if you say anything else if thereâs some kind of acknowledgement on your part. All you know is that your body is screaming at you to run. Staying in that car doesnât feel like a place you belong, so youâre quick to get out. You donât even make it to the door before Steve is peeling off and driving himself home. The action feels like the last break in any resolve you had. Your Steve would always wait until you were inside before leaving. Always telling you he'd rather know with certainty that you were safe before he ever left. It was one of those things that told you how caring he was, that showed how he loved you.
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In what will later be referred to as The Aftermath, you have the next day off. Your mom hovers at your door, knocking and knocking. The sound makes your head hurt and forces you to pull your covers over your head like itâll drown out everything else. If you had anyone else as a mother, you might be able to convince yourself that sheâs doing it from a place of concern. The truth is that this is the same woman who when you came in last night, uncontrollably sobbing and barely getting out the words âSteveâ and âbroke upâ, your mom was asking if this meant youâd go to school earlier like she and your father want.
The tears had stopped sometime around when you finally found yourself falling asleep. They havenât picked back up and everything you ever learned in biology screams out youâre dehydrated. There are things you should be doing, things that you have done for yourself when other relationships ended that made it so the person you were dating was nothing more than a faded memory. Maybe if you go through the ritual of it all, the gathering of reminders, and the disposal of memories itâll make you feel better. There should be phone calls to girlfriends, and movie nights set up to help push you through these feelings.
Instead, you continue to stay in bed. Your limbs feel like lead, weighed down and stuck, too heavy for you to move. Your curtains are drawn so tight that not even the hot Indiana sun comes through to ruffle you into motion. Your wall has your attention, and you find yourself using the texture of the paint to trace all the lines in your relationship with Steve. Maybe if you follow them to the end like a map, theyâll tell you where you are and where you go from here.
In the midst of The Aftermath, in the bed of your grief, you manage to make one phone call. Well⊠thatâs a lie. You make two phone calls. In no surprise to the imaginary audience watching you grieve; the first call is to Steve. The phone rings and rings and rings. Steve never answers and it should be a sign. You get the standard Harrington voicemail. Steveâs momâs voice becomes the soundtrack to your day. She tells you to leave a message, and that the family will get back to you when they can. You open your mouth, no plan on what to say but surely thereâs something there in your head that will tumble out. The answering machine beep is met with your silence though, just your breath coming through, you wonder if Steve will know itâs you even if you donât leave your name. Does he still have you memorized in all the ways that you still know him? Did he forget about you in just the span of a day? Worst thought of all, did he even really take the time to trace you down in his memory the same way you did him?
You hang up after that last thought, still no name and still carrying the hope that it could be enough. Your second call is made two hours later when thereâs still no call back from Steve, even though he should be off today too. Even though, thereâs a piece of your mind screaming over and over that he should have heard the silence in the message and been able to read through it. Maybe thatâs unfair of you to place that on Steve, but it also feels unfair that he had the power and took action to bring you where you lay now. The second call is to Keith at the arcade, where you know heâs working since youâre off today. The favor you cashed in on is wasted because your request is for him to take back your schedule.
âI canât work the day shift anymore,â your voice is hoarse and throat sore as the words stumble out.
âThat sounds like a you problem,â you grimace as you hear Keith chewing what you know are those stupid cheese snacks he always carries around.
You hold back a groan and tell yourself your next move, while incredibly bratty, is the only way that you return to work. Your parents hate you working at the place anyway, but you like the independence, you like having your own money and you donât want to give up another thing this summer.
âItâs going to be your problem because Iâm not working any shift that overlaps with Harrington. Iâll quit.â You hate how Steve has transformed into Harrington. Hate how removed it sounds, not at all reflective of how close you had been. If you say his first name though, you know youâre going to cry.
Keith whistles, the tone way too low and drags out in a way that makes you feel a wave of creeping anger youâre not used to.
âSo, you and Harrington are over then. Knew he was stupid but didnât think he was that stupid.â
âHeâs not stupid,â your defense is soft, it feels telling of where you are. It isnât harsh in the way that it should be. Itâs not your job to defend Steve anymore, he let you go from that position last night after all.
âIâll change the schedules,â is the response you get back and itâs the nicest thing that you think Keith has ever said to you. However, you know Keith, and this feels a little too easy.
âIs there a catch?â
âNah, just canât afford to lose you so consider it your lucky day.â It doesnât feel like your lucky day, but you donât say that. Just mumble out a thank you after he tells you that your shift tomorrow will be the closing shift and Harrington will be gone by then.
True to his word, when you pull into the shared parking lot of Family Video there is no sign of Steveâs car. Thereâs an awareness that it wonât always be this easy, that Hawkins is too small to go all summer without seeing him. And despite Keithâs previous comments on how he couldnât afford to lose you, thereâs also a silent understanding that heâs still going to be an absolute shit about all of this for the rest of the summer. Keith doesnât know any other way to be, and itâs a moderate price to pay for your ability to at least show up to work without breaking down.
Dustin is the first one you see in The Aftermath, and you can tell by the way he keeps glancing at you in the arcade that he already knows whatâs transpired between you and Steve. Youâre not sure if itâs the telltale sign of the obvious breakup look youâre sporting, or if itâs Steveâs own admittance to the teen. Could be a combination of the two though. You looked in the mirror before leaving today. Youâre fully aware that you look and feel like shit, and thereâs no way to sugarcoat that.
Normally, Dustin would come to chat with you. Whether heâs with the rest of the party or by himself, he always says hello. He would do it before Steve, and you hoped that heâd do it after too. Dustin doesnât say hello though, he avoids your gaze when you catch him looking your way, and even though you know at one point, he should come to you to complain about a machine he just leaves instead. The act makes you sad, itâs the first divide between the friendships you created and thought you would get to hold on to. Dustin might be in high school now, but heâs still a kid. Rationally, a piece of you should be able to string together how his silence speaks more about how he doesnât know what to say and less about a side heâs choosing. Reality rarely ever plays out as it rationally should, so instead Dustin just becomes the first domino that falls, and you feel like you should have known everyone else would go along with him.
______________________________________________________________
The next three weeks find you oscillating like a fan. Days spent hiding in your room, working up the courage to move and take care of yourself. Then nights of work or spent rummaging through polaroids that catalog your relationship. You always told yourself you put them in a scrapbook, something to hold the years together so in old age youâd have something to shuffle through. It sounds silly now, but the pictures sit in a shoebox of movie stubs from the Hawk, the receipt from your first date together, and the paper menu from the diner that you talked a waitress into giving you. There are notes scribbled on lined paper that were slipped into your jacket pockets when Steve would kiss you goodbye as he dropped you off at school, dried flowers from prom, and so much more. After a week of crying over the pieces, ink smudging thanks to fresh tears your body can create again now that youâre hydrated, you manage to shove the shoe box in the back corner under your bed. You had to slide it back there with the broom, but you know itâs not within reach now and that feels like progress.
You still dodge calls from your friends that you collected outside of your relationship. When they manage to catch you on the phone they whisper sweet condolences, but underneath itâs an unspoken blame of how you should have known. âHe was the King of the school, he only knows how to break hearts,â your friend Val tells you over the phone one night. Val pops her gum on the other end of the line, and it sets off a chain reaction of emotions. You feel like youâre going through the five stages of grief in that moment. Val tries to invite you out and reminds you that Hawkins has more boys than just Steve Harrington. She promises you a good time, a night to help you forget all about Steve. You make an excuse and promise to go out next time, but both of you know itâs a promise you wonât keep.
Your parents seem to have set up some game plan amongst themselves. Theyâve learned that they canât tell you that your heartbreak is juvenile. Instead, they preach about how open youâll be to new opportunities when you head to school. Your dad has the course list, where he got it from you donât dare to ask. He tries to plan out your future over dinner, but you donât even know what life you want for yourself. Before this you just saw Steve in the future, you had naĂŻvely assumed youâd have time to sort out the rest. But Steveâs in the rearview now, and your parents want to know what life you plan to have in your passenger seat.
It's three weeks of juggling it all, but you still havenât seen Steve. It should feel like the universe is still on your side, but really, itâs more of a cosmic joke. It should be finally time for some peace, instead, the world feels the need to implode again. Your parents are out of town, an annual get-together with their old college friends, and youâre home alone. Itâs late, youâve only been off work for 20 minutes when you get to the grocery store. The pantry at home is bare bones and youâve been putting off the need to go shopping for the last three days. Youâve been supplementing meals through various fast-food restaurants on the outskirts of town. But youâre tired of driving so far away, plus the taste of grease has become less and less appealing as the days have dragged on.
The evening finds you shrugging off your name tag from the arcade and running into Bradleyâs to do some shopping before they close for the night. The air conditioning hits you right as the doors open, it cools your skin in a way that summer nights never will. You close your eyes and pause for a moment, maybe you look crazy, but itâs late and you donât anticipate anyone else is going to be poking around the store. You grab a cart and youâre on your way, trying to be mindful to be quick because you know how it feels to work a closing shift. You wander up and down the aisles of the store, with no real list in mind just grabbing what sounds good. Your diet is still in a post-break-up mode which means youâre either only consuming junk food or pushing food around on your plate still too sad to eat. Which means, itâs time to be gentle with yourself and just grab the food that calls to you. Now is not a time for healthy eating and hitting every food group on that pyramid they went over in health class.
Because of this though you arenât paying attention to whatâs in front of you. You move through the aisles of the store with your eyes on the shelves, still having confidence in the fact that itâs just you and the store clerk in here. But remember, Hawkins likes to implode both literally and emotionally. You swing your cart into the next aisle, already excited to be browsing the cereal options. You only make it a handful of steps forward, eyes already searching for the cinnamon toast crunch which youâre rarely allowed to bring into the house otherwise your mom will complain. Your cart jolts and pushes you back, and you look up to find that youâve hit another personâs cart.
You feel silly, and your cheeks are warm in an embarrassed flush. âIâm so sorry,â the words tumble out as you drag your gaze up to see what suburban mom youâve managed to piss off tonight. When you see who it is though you find yourself wishing it was a mom about to yell at you, instead itâs Steve, you find yourself in front of. He says your name, a hint of surprise, and what you might have previously labeled as nervous energy. You must look stupid, both of you really, just standing in silence as the hum of the grocery store lights buzz on and the radio station the store is set to plays out louder than it should. Steveâs cart is full of popcorn, and snacks that you can trace to each teen you know he babysits, thereâs even Robinâs favorite chips and the beer that Eddie likes to drink. All of it slides together and reminds you that itâs Saturday, which means movie night at Steveâs.
You donât know what to say, and you feel like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen so that you canât even run to escape the impending collision that is about to take place. Itâs Robin rounding around the corner, her voice loud and unapologetic in a way you have always admired. âHey, dingus, should we grab some ice cream for Erica, or do you thinkâŠâ her voice trails off as she catches sight of you. âOh,â and you look to Robin, she raises a hand to give a small wave at you and smile. Itâs enough to also jump Steve into movement again, saying your name and you donât wait to see if thereâs more.
You donât say anything as you turn to leave, though maybe you should have, at least to Robin. But sheâs the headlights turning off and giving you the freedom to run. You can eat another fast-food burger tonight, and you hate that youâre just leaving your cart in the middle of the cereal aisle. But you canât, you wonât just sit there and let yourself wonder that store when itâs obviously not a safe place.
The air conditioning hits you again as you run out the doors. No time to pause this time, and you actually seek comfort in the sticky heat that greets you outside of Bradleyâs. The crickets sing to you as you rush to fumble with your keys and drive away before your past tries to catch you outside. You got three weeks of no Steve, and you had been lulled into this fantasy of maybe being okay someday soon. This though, this small interaction, where you didnât even really talk to him, has shown that youâre not close to that. When you finally manage to pull into your driveway, your hand bangs down on the steering wheel. You mumble to yourself, âthat was so stupid, you just ran?â
Youâll eventually make your way into the house about 15 minutes later, after you had completely gone over the entire interaction about three times. You know it will continue to replay all night long. Itâll be inside that you realize you never even stopped to get food, too focused on seeking the safety that you can apparently only find in your room these days. Time drags on and you keep opening and closing the fridge and the cabinets hoping that food will magically appear the next time you start looking. Itâs late, Bradleyâs will have to be a tomorrow you type of goal. You know Steve and the group will be up late tonight which means the morning will be safe.
Youâve resigned that tonightâs dinner will be a pack of saltines you find buried in the back of the pantry when thereâs a knock on your door. Your friends know not to show up unannounced, and if your parents managed to come home early, they wouldnât be knocking. Itâs Hawkins, you remind yourself as you creep to the door, but then the additional itâs Hawkins kicks in and there could be anything waiting for you. You grab your momâs tennis racket from the closet by the front door and peek out the peephole, but your porch light isnât on, and you canât see anything. When you open the door, tennis racket at the ready, thereâs no one there. Instead, sitting on the mat right in front of your door is three bags of groceries from Bradleyâs.
The bags contain all the items you remember dumping into your cart, including the added addition of one box of cinnamon toast crunch. You canât prove it, thereâs no note, but you donât really need it do you? There are only two people who would have had access to the cart you left behind, and only one of those two would have added in your favorite cereal. An internal debate rages inside of you, one side of you wanting to leave the food on your porch. Hoping that maybe later Steve will drive by and see it still sitting there. Maybe it will be an ounce of the hurt he's inflicted on you. The other part of you though, the part whose stomach is literally just growling at the prospect of food, wins out. You drag the bags inside and spend the night cycling between the incident in the store and what the bags of food on your porch mean.
The next day feels like a relapse, and you find yourself pacing by your phone, the internal debate to call Steve rages on in your mind. The number of times you pick up that phone and start to punch in his number is too many to count. Thereâs only one time when you get through the whole number, you only let it ring once before youâre slamming the phone back down and rushing off to your room. You throw yourself onto your bed, face first into your pillow, and you scream. It feels like every emotion thatâs been building up since that night in Steveâs car just forces its way out of you. You spend the rest of your day in bed, Donât Dream Itâs Over plays on repeat as you stare at your ceiling and only recognize time passing by the light that streams in from your window.
When your parents come back a week later you say that you want to leave Hawkins earlier after all. They donât even ask why you changed your mind. They donât press the issue, which you figured they wouldnât, but it still stings. instead, they celebrate. Your mom pulls you into her arms and excitedly tells you that itâs the second-best decision youâve ever made. Your dad chimes in about how the first was applying to college in the first place, his hand feels heavy on your shoulder. The smile you wear feels like it was pasted on, like some macaroni art piece a kindergartener does. Your parents donât notice though, they never do, they move on already making plans about your departure. The choice doesnât feel right, but then again, youâre not really sure what the right choice is any more or how it should feel.
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You spend the rest of your summer forcing yourself into spaces you donât want to be in, but it feels like you have to. You got to parties with Val, you spend summer days at the pool with your friends as you planned. It may not be all the friends that you had anticipated being with but itâs something. You feel like with each activity you do youâre adding another band-aid to your heart hoping that this time maybe itâll stay together. There are times, like at the community pool, when you sit with your friends, and you donât really feel there. It feels like youâre playing a part and youâve never been a good actress, so youâre still surprised when everyone just believes it.
Time and life keep moving forward and you wish it felt like you were too, but you still feel stuck. Your parents think that time wonât start moving until youâre away at college, and your friends believe that you need to start dating someone new to feel like youâve moved on. You donât think any of them are right but again youâre still stuck wondering what the right move is and how itâs supposed to feel.
What you do manage is to only catch glimpses of Steve for the rest of the summer. You see him at the movies dropping the party off, and you catch him one day leaving Family Video when heâs stayed too late. Thereâs another day at the grocery store, where you find yourself hiding behind a display stand to avoid the awkward run-in. You see him but you donât think he ever sees you. Youâre not sure if thatâs exactly what you want, but if it is then why does it still also ache? A week before you leave you seek Steve out. You spend the morning giving yourself a pep talk, you take the time to perfect your outfit and ensure that you look better than you feel. This encounter is in your control, and you want to make sure it all goes off without a hitch.
You march into Family Video. Youâve been waiting for Robin to leave for her break and for a lull in customers to happen. When all the stars align you take a deep breath, shake out the nerves and move forward with purpose. You have a week left in Hawkins and all your teen magazines have told you that if you want to start college off right you need closure.
The bell above the door rings out in a way that feels louder than you remember. You donât let it stop you though, you move forward and watch with some satisfaction as Steveâs head pops up and surprise washes over his face. Good, you think to yourself, finally, he knows what itâs like to be ambushed. Youâve planned out what you want to say so once youâre at the counter you speak before Steve can completely derail you.
âHarrington,â the last name comes out a lot calmer than you thought it would, you feel confident. âI leave for school next weekâŠâ
âNext week?â Steve interrupts, he looks like he has more to say but you send a glare his way which is enough to have him holding back words. If you paused long enough to just stare at him, you might wonder if he's disappointed, but you don't let the silence linger long enough to notice.
âAs I was saying, I leave next week for school, and you owe me some type of closure or explanation for what happened. Iâll be at the diner tomorrow night, 7 pm and I expect you to show up.â Youâre proud of yourself, your voice has an edge to it that leaves no room for disagreement.
Steve just says your name and he says it in the same soft way he did when you first started dating. You feel ruffled and some of that confidence feels like itâs being washed down a drain somewhere. âNo,â you interrupt him. You can feel the tension in your forehead, you know your brows are furrowed and the frown on your face is reflecting your real emotions instead of some mask youâve been wearing.
âYou just dumped me, out of the blue and you gave me no explanation. Iâm leaving next week, and you owe me this. You donât get to dump me, say that you donât care for me, and then leave groceries on my doorstep, Steve.â Something in your words must hit a soft spot that you know Steve still has inside of him. Even if his feelings for you are long gone, Steve has always been gooey and soft like caramel on the inside.
âYeah, okay. Iâll be there.â You stare at him a moment longer, trying to figure out if youâre getting an honest response. Once youâre sure you are you nod and turn to leave. When you were dating you never liked saying goodbye to Steve, it was always a see you soon. Now when you leave thereâs no goodbye, but itâs more because you donât want to waste another word on him. Not when you need to prepare for tomorrow.
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The next night finds you showing up at the diner first. The waitress recognizes you and tells you itâs been a while since sheâs seen you. You donât have the heart to tell her the reason why, you just smile and walk to the booth that used to belong to Steve and you.
You donât feel as prepared for your conversation tonight as you would like, but you do feel less fragile. Somewhere between yesterday and today, youâve managed to slide into the anger stage of your grief. There are times when youâre not sure if youâre going to just hit Steve as soon as you hit him, or worse. Worse is that small intrusive thought that you have about kissing him one last time. Itâs weird because youâre so angry, the angriest you think youâve ever been before. You feel like a pot that was left on a burner too long, just boiling over the edge and sizzling when you hit the stove eye.
And yet, behind all that anger thereâs still the part of you that loves Steve. That piece of you canât even remember the last time you kissed. You have fuzzy memories of when it might have happened. Maybe a goodbye kiss as he dropped you off at home, something that happened underneath his comforter as you both tried to hide away from the world a little longer. Either of those or something more is possible. Itâs just... how were you supposed to know you needed to remember it? You think that maybe this time if you knew it was the last, youâd feel more prepared this time. Maybe itâll help you feel better.
You slide the salt shaker between your hands, watching as it glides over the table as smooth as butter. Another glance at the clock tells you that Steve is late, Steve who was never late to anything that had to do with you before. The heat starts to turn up, and you feel more and more like that roaring boil of the pot. Twenty minutes after the hour he was supposed to be there the bell chimes above the door.
You donât give in to the urge to look, you watch the salt continue to glide over the table. You know already itâs Steve because that same waitress is telling him that his girlfriend is at the regular booth. Steve doesnât even correct her, at least not that you can hear. Steve slides into his seat as easily as the salt continued to glide on the table. All the anger you felt feels like it whooshes out of you. You go from feeling like a boiling pot to a balloon that was blown up and then let go before the air could be sealed inside.
As you sit across from him, the silence stretching on like the miles on an interstate you find yourself spiraling. People, mostly your friends and parents, have implied that it was childish of you to assume that your relationship with Steve would be anything long-term. And maybe you were, maybe somewhere in it all you got swept up in teenage fantasies. Sitting across from him though reminds you how it happened. For all the pain heâs caused, Steve Harrington is still the prettiest sight youâve ever seen.
The people of Hawkins can gather and label you as simple-minded for all you care. Slap a label on you and shelve you in the town library with all the other romance novels, you donât care. Because for all that they say you saw yourself creating a future with this man in front of you. Sure, maybe you romanticized it all, but God⊠you would have married Steve if he had given you a chance.
Itâs that thought that spurs you back into the anger portion of The Aftermath. Because you didnât build your relationship up by yourself. Steve was there too, heâs the one that layered the cement for your foundation. Steve with his endless flirting, his soft compliments, his whispered promises of forever. And even at the end, Steve left you with no explanation for this exit he took. And you canât start your journey until he finally tells you why.
âYou never really gave me a why for what happened at the end. I hate that itâs been months and I canât let go of you, and maybe Iâm just oversharing here, maybe I cared more, but I have to know. Steve, what the hell happened to us?â Youâre surprised how quickly the words come out, but youâre pleased that they sound so tough. If Steve is surprised that you had to break the silence, he doesnât show it.
âWeâre young, this wasnât going to be forever.â Steveâs voice isnât loud, but it feels like it echoes in the diner. You want to sink into the vinyl of the booth, but you know you canât.
âSee, you say that but,â you take a breath to collect yourself to figure out how you say this all. âWe talked about plans, Steve.â You look up, itâs easier to stare into the fluorescents than into Steveâs eyes. Your nerves make themselves known as you feel your fingers picking at the dry skin around your nails.
âMaybe somewhere along the way, I was looking farther into the future than you were. And if I was then I guess thatâs on me. But I didnât even know forever was an option until you gave me the words to use.â You shake your head like itâll knock away your disbelief. Your gaze drifts from the lights to your hands gathered on the top of the table now.
âThere was that time,â You lay your hands flat on the table hoping the action will stop the nerves from expanding. âWe had only been together for like 4 months, and it was that really rainy day?â Itâs a question, a quick uptake that doesnât need an answer. You finally look to Steve again, waiting for some recognition to spark in his mind before you bulldoze on.
âWe stayed in your bed for hours, wrapped up in one another. It was the laziest and softest day we had since we started dating. And there was that moment, and you told me that you wanted pause time.â A grimace of a smile forms, and itâs a bitter laugh that accompanies it. âYou wanted to stay in that moment forever, do you remember that?â
Steve, who has been so emotionless through your every moment since you broke up, seems to finally crack. You watch emotions slide out of him as you wait for a response.
âI remember.â Itâs a whisper, a barely audible acknowledgment of your past. If words could hold weight though, if they could carry more than a sound, you think those two would weigh a ton. They sound heavy at least, and for once youâre happy you donât have to offer to carry them for Steve.
âSo, when did that change?â You press on, encouraged by his response.
âI wish I could tell you. I wish there was a day or a time if that would help you. It was slow, and then it was just there and so I ended it.â Steveâs response is a rush of words, and his gaze isnât even on you. It all collides together like a car crash. And just like a car crash once the collision hits, you canât look away from it. It feels like a tragedy, and you know you shouldnât stare, but human nature is human nature, and you canât change that. Maybe thereâs more to say after his confession but instead, Steve leaves without saying goodbye. His departure is quick and you calling his name is the only thing that follows him.
You stay stuck in that booth for a while, Steveâs words rolling around in your head like a tumbleweed. This was supposed to be closure, but it doesnât feel like anything has been closed. You feel like youâre trying to piece a puzzle together but some of the pieces are still missing. Steve is the only one that has them but heâs refusing to let you see them, so you donât even know what youâre trying to put together.
A small nagging part of you feels like thereâs still more to this. Like something bigger is at play. But if Steve isnât willing to share with the class despite all your opportunities for him to do so youâre at a loss. You have to, at a certain point, accept the fact that this is an unknown portion that youâll never get answered. You hate that, hate how bitter it tastes, but you have no other choice than to find a way to work towards it. Because if nothing else, this night has shown that you canât keep this candle burning when someone is actively blowing it out. Itâs time to snuff the flame out yourself. You want to hope that maybe itâll be easier once thereâs some distance between Steve and yourself. Maybe if youâre no longer hiding from him at the grocery store that door that feels like itâs still wide open will start to close and you can move on.
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The day before you leave feels like a round of goodbyes. You hadnât told anyone besides Steve that youâd be leaving early. Your friends are surprised, and you smile and tell them youâre just excited. Steve had always been your secret keeper, the only one that knew the fear you had around going to college. So, you know your lie will go over smoothly with your friends, and just like youâve been doing for the remainder of the summer your mask of âIâm fineâ will help sell the story more.
It's the kids and Robin that you feel the most torn on, the ones that you struggle with when it comes to a goodbye. The breakup fractured a lot of things in your life, and it feels like maybe you lost them all somewhere this summer. They were never really yours though, so how you could have lost them youâre not sure. In the end, you solidify your resolve and even if it means nothing to them it does mean something to you. Youâve already worked your last shift, and yet you sit in the shared parking lot of your former work and the only place youâre guaranteed to find everyone you need all at once. Since the mall is long gone, this is the best place to be on a hot summer day. Unless you want to share the pool water with the rest of the Hawkins. You wait, you let Steve leave for his lunch, and you take that as your moment.
Thereâs no speech planned, nothing too major in your goodbye. Robinâs surprised face is what greets you when she looks towards the bell ringing. A soft exclamation of surprise escapes her and she looks confused. âI donât want to waste your time,â you find yourself telling her. This is the quietest youâve ever seen Robin.
âI just wanted to say goodbye. I know youâre his friend, and we havenât really talked since⊠Well, you know when, but sometimes you felt like my friend too and so I just wanted to say goodbye before I left and that Iâm sorry I didnât say anything to you before this.â
All your words sound so unsure, and you feel like you should be phrasing questions instead of just statements.
Silence hangs over the store, and you feel like if you donât leave itâs just going to grow more awkward. âOkay, well then.â You mumble to yourself, and you force a smile and a wave before you turn to go. You make it to the door, itâs open and you are half in the heat and half in the air conditioning when Robin finally speaks.
âIâm sorry,â itâs not what you expect, and you throw a glance over your shoulder. Her face reflects the apology sheâs given you. âWe were friends, itâs just-â You shake your head and interrupt.
âItâs okay, Robin. He was your friend first, Iâm glad that he had you and the kids.â You smile, and it feels real this time. âMaybe when I get back for winter break, we could be friends again?â
 âIâd like that.â Robin matches your smile, and her nod is enthusiastic. You wave one last time and head fully out into the heat, youâve got one more stop right next door and then your goodbye tour of Hawkins will be over.
The kids are right where you expect them. Tangled together around one of the games, with Max behind the controls. You wait until the losing screen comes on before addressing them. Your goodbye with the kids is just as short as your one with Robin. âYou know Iâm kind of gonna miss watching you all hold these games hostage,â Your tone is cheerful, not at all scared like you feel inside. The kids are quick to turn around and itâs Will that matches your tone when he calls your name. Will has always been the kindest of the bunch, and heâs quick to hug your side while everyone else smiles and says hello.
Max is the one to break the greetings, always the most impulsive of the group. âWhat are you doing here, do you work today?â
âUh no, actually I came here looking for you guys.â You feel like you stumble over your words, especially as Mike gives you the most suspicious look youâve ever seen him throw your way. Heâs always hard to please, but you feel like maybe you shouldnât have added him to the goodbye tour after all.
âI just wanted to say goodbye, I know we havenât talked this summer but still.â You find yourself shrugging as you finish talking.
âYouâre leaving already?â Itâs Dustin this time, and you find yourself surprised. He hasnât talked to you since the breakup, and you assumed that would carry over to this conversation. His tone sounds disappointed, and you find yourself feeling guilty for a reason you canât name.
âI leave tomorrow,â thereâs a chorus of groans and refusals that leave the kids. Something like regret swells up because sure these were Steveâs kids first, but they were kinda yours too. You knew them before Steve and had a whole weird dynamic with them before you even knew Steve worked next door. A part of you feels like you messed up this summer by not making more of an effort with them.
âIâm sorry about this summer,â the expressions they turn your way feel like they know too much for kids who are too young to be wrapped up in your love life drama. âWeâre sorry too,â Lucas tells you. âYou have nothing to apologize for okay,â you look at each one of them, the look on your face leaves no room for argument. Itâs always worked with the group.
âMaybe when I get home for winter break, we could all do something together?â You offer them the same olive branch that was extended to Robin. Everyone, Mike included youâre happy to note, nods their head. You find yourself ruffling Willâs hair, heâs still the closest to you. âItâs a plan,â you tell them. âIâll let you get back to the game, make sure you keep that top spot!â Max tells you not to worry about it, a smirk already forming on her face. You give them all one last smile and make your way out of the building.
You think youâre done, and you feel as at peace as you think you can manage under the circumstances of it all. You unlock the door of your car, plans already in mind for what is left to pack up for the trip tomorrow when someone is calling out your name. You look up and find Dustin running towards you. You meet him part of the way, and heâs throwing his arms around your waist and squeezing you tight. Thereâs a huff of surprise that forces its way out upon the impact, but you donât hesitate as you return the hug.
His voice is muffled, and you rub soothing circles on his back. âDustin, I canât understand you.â You keep your voice soft like youâre talking to a startled animal. Itâs just a moment before he pulls back, and youâre met with a teary face. âIâm sorry I didnât talk to you this summer,â Dustinâs words are rushed and come out as almost one sound. You find yourself shushing him and pulling him in for another hug. âYouâre all good, itâs okay.â
You give him a minute to just feel his big feelings before you push him back. Your hands rest on his shoulders and you find you donât have to bend down too far to meet his gaze. You wonder when he started getting so tall and remind yourself it was probably sometime this summer.
âDustin, Iâm not mad or upset or anything okay?â You wait for him to nod along to what youâre saying. âIâm sorry you got caught up in all this,â thereâs enough stress on sorry that you think it could take off like a jet with the force youâre pushing it out. âSteve and I were the adults, you shouldnât have been caught up in the middle, okay?â
Dustin looks like heâs going to argue, âNo arguments! This was between us, and we should have made that clear.â Dustin stares at you for what feels like a minute before he nods.
âIâm gonna miss you,â is what Dustin tells you next. âKeith is never gonna be as cool as you. Whose going kick all the older kids off the games for me?â You laugh, happy to see him joking with you now.
âIâm going to miss you too, kid.â You give his shoulders a squeeze, âIâm going to give you a secret, use it responsibly, okay?â Dustin gives you an excited look and nods his head quickly, âI promise,â he says.
âIf Keith gives you any trouble, just tell him that you know about Lucy.â Dustin has questions you can tell. âKeith wonât ask you to tell him, heâll be too embarrassed. If he asks how you know, then you just tell him I told you. Heâll do whatever you want.â
Thereâs a part of you that feels like maybe youâve given him too much power, but Dustinâs always been a smart kid and Keith has always been a dick to him, so you donât feel too much remorse. Someone should be benefiting from the information anyway, and Dustin feels like the right one out of the party to hold on to the information.
âWith great power comes great responsibility,â You quote to him, itâs a quip he used to tell Steve all the time before you started dating. Something from a comic book if you remember correctly.
Dustinâs smile is blinding, âYou were always too cool for him you know, itâs his loss.â You smile and hope it doesnât come off as sad as it feels. âThanks, Dustin.â
You ruffle his hair, just like you had done to Will. Dustin bats at your hands and you push him toward the arcade, âGo spend time with your friends. Iâll see you in December.â
Dustin starts to go but turns back just as quickly. âYou promise?â The happiness that had been there before has been replaced with worry again. âI pinky promise,â you hold out your pinky to show him youâre serious. Dustin comes back just to seal the promise and then waves goodbye again returning to the arcade.
The next morning, when every spare inch of space in your car is covered in your belongings, you finally feel like you could actually leave this place feeling okay. Things are not at all the way you thought they would be when the summer first started. You also still feel a weird sort of dread about attending college, but it feels like you could conquer it. If you could do this, this weird limbo break-up, then you think college canât be that bad.
Your parents arenât going with you. Despite their excitement and all the ways theyâve pushed you into this decision, they have both told you they feel you have to do this alone. Everything is set up for you, your dad has given you a paper with your new address on it and a credit card for emergencies. You know in both their eyes theyâve done their job as your parents. Theyâve paved the way for success and now itâs your responsibility to make them proud.
It feels fitting that you leave Hawkins the same way you started the summer, all alone. You tell yourself that this is what you need. You tell yourself a lot of things as you make your way to the town line. You try not to look in the rearview mirror, too afraid that youâll see everything youâre leaving behind and change your mind. You remind yourself itâs a few months, and that you can do this. You just hope that you arenât lying to yourself. You may not feel happy, but you also donât feel completely numb either. Maybe thatâs the right type of progress though.
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fr tho why is everything smutđđ i wanna read angst that would ruin me, make me sick to my stomach and cry like there's no tomorrow bro i want a fanfic that is so devastating that i won't be able to function for the next few months
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BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you're supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out đđđ
Thank you dear! â€ïž
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I've been inactive in a while here, I've been consumed playing visual novels in the past few months lmao đ„čđ«Ł
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