#and kicks the shit out of the car | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

steviesnailbat · 2 years

Text

Steve quietly unlocked his front door and stumbled inside, letting it swing shut behind him. He was honestly amazed he’d managed to get home at all. Everything ached after the ass whooping Billy had given him and he was seeing double. He needed to patch himself up, then he could go to bed and pass out for a week.

He’d only gone a few steps before he froze, the millionth wave of dread for the night washing over him. The kitchen light was on. He knew for a fact he’d turned it off last night, and he hadn’t needed it during the day with the sun coming in through the windows, so that could only mean one thing.

Damn it.

He glanced at the clock. 4 am.

Shit.

He looked at the small mirror on the wall and saw the state of his face.

Fuck.

Maybe he could just sneak upstairs.

He had a foot on the bottom step when his mother’s voice rang through the house. “Steven, come in here.”

Steve closed his eyes and forced himself not to sigh. Why now? Why tonight? He’d already dealt with enough.

“Steven!”

Steve flinched at his father’s sharp tone and opened his eyes again, removing his foot from the bottom step and heading into the kitchen instead. Ignoring them or keeping them waiting was only going to make things worse.

His parents were on opposite sides of the kitchen, his father leaning against the counter next to the sink and his mother sitting on a stool at the island. It still amazed Steve how they managed to present such a simultaneously united and divided front. Divided in their marriage, united in how they felt about their son.

There was silence while his parents stared at him standing in the doorway, shocked by his battered appearance, and for a brief moment, the childish hope that maybe he’d receive some concern flared to life in his chest. He knew better by now, but that repressed little desire betrayed him every time.

The spell of the moment was broken when his father cleared his throat. “Are you aware of what time it is?”

“Yes, sir.” Steve couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped in. He’d lost patience with his parents years ago, and while talking - and sometimes yelling - back always did more harm than good, his anger and pride would never let him just stand there and take it. He had to push back first.

“Watch your tone with me, young man. Where have you been?”

“Robbing a bank.”

His father’s expression darkened. “You will take this discussion seriously, or -”

“Or what?” Steve stepped up to the other side of the island between them, on the opposite end from his mother, leaning forward with his hands splayed on the marble. “You’ll ground me? What could you possibly threaten me with that has any teeth?”

His father was silent, rage twisting his features and his hands clenching into fists. Steve noticed and he laughed. He honest to god laughed. He felt insane. It was like the weight of the night was all coming down on him at once and he was fracturing under the pressure.

“What? You gonna hit me? Maybe you didn’t notice, but someone already beat you to it.”

His father snapped. “Shut up!”

“Don’t yell at my son.” Steve’s mother broke in for the first time.

“You shut up too!”

“Oh yeah, assert your dominance!” Steve mocked. “Yell, scream, throw your weight around! You’re like a toddler throwing a fit!”

“I will not be spoken to this way in my own house! This is your fault!” Steve’s father jabbed a finger at his wife. “He learned this blatant disrespect from you -”

“Oh, that’s ridiculous!” she snapped back. “He’d be respectful of you if you earned it!”

“I don’t need to earn his respect, or yours! I’m the man of this house and I am owed respect!”

Steve’s parents had never seemed more childish to him than they did at this moment. “You think you’re owed respect? The world doesn’t owe you shit! And it sure as hell isn’t going to give it to you!”

“What do you know about life and the world? You stay here in Hawkins, whoring around with your friends and getting in fights until all hours of the night, imagine what everyone thinks -”

“Oh, there it fucking is!” That was what it always came down to with his parents. They didn’t really care what Steve did. They didn’t care if he hurt people or if he got hurt. They only cared what other people thought of their family.

His mother sighed. “Steven, please, we don’t want to have this discussion again.”

“Well, I don’t want to have the discussion we’ve been having, and yet, here we are.”

“I just feel like you don’t understand how important this is to us. Image matters, especially with the life we lead, and you’re our son, so you’re a part of that.”

“I’m not your son. To you, I’m just another possession you can trot out and show off when it’s convenient and then ignore.”

The kitchen was silent. It was finally out there. They all knew it was true, they’d known for a long time, but none of them had ever said it. Steve felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. At least now they all knew where they stood.

His mother started crying. “How could you say that? You’re my son, how do you think it makes me feel to hear you say that?”

“How do you think it makes me feel to know that it’s true?” Steve had long since stopped taking his mother’s tears seriously. The way she approached him was different from his father. She would pretend to be on his side when really she just liked using him against his father, and she loved crying and talking about being his mother to make him feel guilty and get her way. It had worked when Steve was younger, but he knew better now.

“Go to your room.” His father walked around the counter to stand in front of him, asserting physical dominance. “We can’t deal with you right now.”

Steve scoffed. “Oh, sure, when you want to bitch me out, you can deal with me, but the minute we get to something that I want to talk about -”

His father cut him off with a sharp slap and Steve stumbled, bringing a hand up to his throbbing face. “I said go to your room.”

Steve turned and left the kitchen without a word.

He cursed himself as he went up the stairs. He was all bark and no bite with his parents and he knew it. He would talk back and yell and tell harsh truths until his father eventually slapped him for his disrespect, and just like that, it was over. Something snapped inside of him and he was eight years old again, shaking and terrified of punishment. He hated that part of himself with everything he had.

He listened to his parents scream at each other while he sat on the edge of the bathtub and did his best to tend to his own injuries. The two of them were always fighting about something. He’d be more worried if he couldn’t hear them tearing each other’s heads off, honestly.

Before long, they moved the argument to ‘their’ room, yelling right up until they settled down to sleep, his mother going across the hall to the guest room.

Steve stayed where he was long after he was finished and the house had gone quiet. He was tired and in pain, and he was just so sick of arguing with his parents, of his parents arguing with each other. It was exhausting enough on its own even without all of the other shit he had to deal with. Something needed to change or he was going to have some kind of mental break.

Eventually he did get up, but he didn’t go back to his room. He just wandered the dark, silent house, letting himself pretend that he was the only one home. Normally he hated being alone, but it was better than having his parents there. When he was younger, he would wish they were home, but that was back when he’d held onto the hope that maybe he could earn their affection, that maybe if he was just a little bit better, they would stay and they would love him. But he knew better now. He’d known better for a long time, and at this point, he just wanted them to go on their trips and stay gone.

He ended up in the garage. He was almost never in there, no one parked their cars inside. The entire space was devoted to his father’s Ferrari.

The 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California. Only fifty-six had ever been made. It was his father’s pride and joy. He’d gotten it when Steve was young, and any time he was at home for several years after was spent in the garage with the car. He’d worked on it, loved it, bragged about it. He cared about what happened to it. All the things he should’ve felt and done for his son, he’d done for a car.

Steve wasn’t prepared for the burst of hateful disgust that suddenly tore through him. A car. A fucking car. He’d spent years jealous of a fucking car.

Before he knew what he was doing, he’d opened the garage door, grabbed his nail bat from his car, and was approaching the Ferrari. The anger, bitterness, and resentment he carried was overflowing, too much for him to contain anymore. It was all just too much. Too much, too much, too much -

The bat slammed down on the car, denting it, the nails scratching off paint and digging in. It was loud, but he didn’t care if he was heard. He wouldn’t need long.

Steve brought the bat down over and over again, destroying the hood and the grill, shattering the windshield. It was like everything was pouring out of him at once, the years of neglect and loneliness and disapproval, full of icy silences, cruel words, and stinging slaps. The guilt of the damage he himself had done, the pain of thinking that Nancy loved him and learning that it had always been a lie, of never being good enough for anyone. The memories of monsters and flickering lights and terror and danger and losses he could’ve prevented, pain and blood and darkness and death. Always death.

Steve screamed as he beat the car, letting all of the agony twisted up inside him loose on this one thing.

Eventually he stumbled back, breathing heavily, the bat still clutched in his hands. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel like he was being suffocated, even if it was just for a few minutes. The front of the vehicle was unrecognizable, and he smiled in spiteful satisfaction. If his father couldn’t sort out his priorities, then Steve would sort them out for him.

He could hear his parents footsteps moving through the house as they came to investigate the noise. Good. He wanted them to come and see and know what he’d done. They couldn’t deal with him? Well, now they’d have to. They’d have to face their decisions and their son and deal with the consequences. And this time, Steve wasn’t going to back down.

#stranger things #st #stranger things 2 #st 2 #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington angst fanfic #angst #tw child abuse #tw neglect #i was watching ferris bueller's day off the other night #and the scene where cameron talks about his dad #and kicks the shit out of the car #reminded me of steve #and the thought wouldn't leave me alone #until i wrote this down lol

29 notes · View notes