#reference to julia nicole camp's poem “a bookmark near the end” in the ending because it is very precious to me

[extraclwnporeal]

Steve Harrington's relationship with love.

All the loving, all the lack of it. All the being loved in the end.

The Harrington's house was big and warm, at first, and their little Steven was welcomed with anticipation and want. The little one had warm food, plenty of toys, frequent visits of family's friends, and bedtime stories that ended with forehead kisses for some good years, all mostly from the hands of his mother. His smile was frequent and it felt like love. And of course, it didn't last — but, God, it was good once.

When Mr. Harrington's job stopped demanding for frequent flights, the house quickly changed. His low and scary voice was new to Steve — that only knew his mommy's melodic tone and her friends high pitched voices —, and it was used to say some new things to him, too. Things that made he think that maybe his hair wasn't so beautiful, or that the bad grades he got sometimes meant he didn't deserve good ones at all.

Once he was old enough to notice bad patterns, his parent's relationship didn't look like love either. It sounded and looked and even smelled wrong. The time Mrs. Harrington spent in the bathroom so she didn't have to talk to her husband, her beautiful confident voice fading and giving place to a shy voice that didn't sound like her at all. The frequent arguing, the way they glared at each other with nothing other than disdain and ressentment, and how they hated each other with such intensity there was no more space to love their son — it was all wrong.

When Steve got into high school, things seemed to change a little. From other eyes he discovered he could be a new person, just a handsome and charming jock who's easy to love. There were hands to hold, mouths to kiss and eyes glued on his back anywhere he went, and it almost felt like love. He called it love — with his hope disguised as certainty and experience.

He was sure it was love, yeah, sure, it must be. So, when Carol Perkins broke up with Tommy H. for the first time, Steve was sure of what do to, what to say. Steve got him into his car and drove him to Lover's Lake to clear his mind, already planning on taking him to parties and finding somebody new — even though he would miss Carol too. But Tommy started talking, confessing things he never thought he would. Steve listened to his best friend talk about how his relationship was flawed — how it lacked something so bitter to say they just acknowledged it without putting into words. His friend went silent, trying to muffle a cry, and so did Steve, thus their pain was shared in a weird bond. Then Tommy — a disheveled and exasperated Tommy — put his put his hands on Steve's shoulders and his mouth oh-so-close to Steve's mouth for a minute, a solid minute the seemed to make the noise of tiny waves of the lake go silent. But Tommy just let Steve go, mumbling a low "love is shitty, man".

Then Steve understood. God, he changed his mind for good. He knew nothing about love.

A lot of other girls happened, and it was not love. Some boys happened, and it was not love, but sure it was new. Nancy happened, and it was almost love. Yeah, but love, raw and bare love, was still far from showing up.

Out of high school and out of his peak as King Steve, he was a little lost — if not completely. He started working, gaining some money, planning a future, thinking about living his life rather than thinking about love.

Patiently, love showed itself. There was Dustin, whose smile was also Steve's smile. He was the one to first make his old persona crumble, "cause popularity was always a dumb and limitating concept anyways". Steve gave Dustin his best advices and haircare routine, and in return, Dustin gave Steve brotherhood, with it's secret handshakes and a spot kept with love at the Henderson's dinner table.

Then there was Robin, and rather than a girlfriend, Steve met his sister, half of his soul. His dawns were placed at the side of his telephone in the kitchen, telling her secrets and hearing her laugh. His closet had drawers and a whole door filled with her baggy clothes, so she'd have them in their sleepover nights — even though she's used to steal Steve's clothes by now.

Then Steve met — the correct way this time, because high school Steve was a jerk — Eddie, and it was easy to love him. At first, sure, there was jealousy. Well, all his friends loved Eddie, and he wanted to know what was all that fuss about. He was met with crooked smiles, beautiful brown eyes and a guy that was so unapologetically himself it was scary. Then, the nerdy jokes and rambles and his always flirtatious tone showed up. And with some more time, you couldn't spot Eddie without his Steve. Eddie threw himself at Steve's heart like there was a spot there with his name written on it the whole time. Maybe it was, who knows.

Steve said he didn't know love, but it was only until he was able to look at his once empty house — that his parents left for him when they left Hawkins for good —, now full of laughter and good memories, and call it a home.

Love came to him as if it was the easiest thing in the world, as if it was bound to happen. Steve figured, love is driving teenagers around even though their high pitched voices give you headaches and they leave your car a mess. Love is listening to their problems when they need you to. Love is finally learning how to make proper meals cause now you have lots of mouths to feed. Love is listening to your best friend talk about the same problems over and over and give her the same advices she gave you over and over, just cause she needed you to say it. Love is driving her everywhere because you're both scared of losing that routine, and love is still driving her everywhere even though she has a license now. Love is having company for crying sessions just like you had when you were laughing. Love is never spending birthdays alone again. Love is having a hand that will caress your back to help you sleep, with it's cold rings that always makes you shiver. Love is looking at his face and thinking about making it work, thinking about a bright, happy future. Love is forgetting what privacy is in the sweetest way possible, cause you have company in the bathroom even when you're pissing at night. Love is giving up the last piece of apple pie even though it's your favorite, because it's your best friend's favorite too. Love is receiving gifts for mothers days, birthdays, christmas, thanksgivings, or just because they felt like giving you something. Love is listening to your brother talk about his interests nonstop even though you don't understand a word of it, just because it makes him smile. Love is the stack of D&D handbooks on your nightstand with their bookmarks near the end.