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andvys · 11 hours ago

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The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ chapter four

⭐︎ While I’m alone and blue as can be

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood and wounds, gore, post apocalypse au, major character death

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: The aftermath of Steve's outburst leaves him guilty and regretful, but a conversation might fix things... a little.

Word count: 6k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for proofreading, for fixing my dumbass mistakes and for writing with me hehe

⭐︎ series masterlist ⭐︎ previous chapter

☀︎

It was surprising how well you adapted to this change, to being back on the road. You imagined it to be harder when you were still back in Hawkins, you thought that you would struggle after days spent in warmth and safety but you didn’t, you don’t struggle – maybe it’s got to do with the fact that you are not alone this time, that you still have a warm bed to sleep in every night, that you still have the feeling of safety thanks to the people you are with, that you still have a roof over your head. The RV almost feels like home. For now, you have enough food and water to last for a while, though you still stock up on cans, water bottles snacks wherever you can find some, gas stations, grocery stores, and shops that you stop by on the way.

It’s been three days since you left Hawkins, three days since you saw Steve fall to his knees and cry out tears that you know he must’ve pushed away since the day he lost her. You felt so bad for him, your heart broke at the sight of his pain and at the sound of his cries. You pitied and felt for him, though it still didn’t take away the pain he left you with. His words hurt, and they stung deeply. You were stupid to think that things could work out between you and him when he shared a moment with you in the kitchen, you got too hopeful. He was mean and cruel to you; it was a mistake to try and be his friend.

Now, you don’t talk much to him, only when you have to. You don’t look at him all that much either, nodding at his questions and giving short replies. He tries. He tries to talk to you, to strike up conversation but you don’t want it, you don’t want to talk to him, knowing that he only does it out of guilt. It wasn’t a surprise to you when he approached you on the first day and offered his help to cook dinner with you. You declined and asked for Eddie instead.

He isn’t heartless, nor is he a bad guy, of course the guilt and the regret would catch up eventually but it doesn’t make the feeling in your chest go away, the dread and the sadness he put inside of you.

The tension between you is thick and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie and Nancy. Even on the day of your departure, they knew something had happened the night you ran after Steve. You came back crying, and the next day you barely talked, sat there with puffy red eyes and a sad look on your face.

And now, whenever he comes close to you, whenever he tries to talk to you or help with something, you bolt, not wanting to be anywhere near him, not wanting his help, not wanting to talk to him, nothing.

Maybe it would have gone unnoticed by them if it wasn’t for the time you’ve spent together cooking the night before you left Hawkins. It was tense between the two of you before, but it was different because you still tried and he didn’t have that guilty look on his face he has now. Every time he asks you something and you reply with less than three words before walking away from him, his eyes follow you, filled with guilt and sadness.

‘He looks like a kicked puppy’, Eddie had said to Nancy.

He looked like one for the past three days, and it’s seemingly getting worse. The longer you behave this way towards him, giving him nothing but a cold shoulder, his eyes sadden a little more.

You are completely unaware of it all. If only you took a better look, you would see it too.

Leaning against the side of the RV, Eddie is smiling with his eyes closed, enjoying the faint warmth of the afternoon sun as he puffs out the smoke from his cigarette, humming the melody of a song Steve doesn’t recognize.

Unlike the metalhead, Steve looks anything but relaxed, his eyes glued to the dusty windows of the gas station you and Nancy are currently inside of, looking for food to stock up on. He is swinging his bat back and forth, pacing around as he waits.

He wanted to be the one to go into the gas station with you, though Nancy didn’t even give him the chance to before she followed you inside and told him to stand guard with Eddie.

The guilt of what he’s done, of what he said to you has been eating at him, worsening every day. He despises what he did when he was angry, and he can’t forgive himself for directing his anger at you. You were right, you were right from the start and deep down he knew it.

Nothing waited for him back there, not her, not even the ghost of her but he didn’t want to accept it.

Now he has to deal with the aftermath of the ugliness that ripped out of him when he hurt you. You can’t even look at him and it makes him feel like the worst person alive.

Eddie peeks one eye open, taking a look at his friend, he can see the distressed look on his face, the deep frown and the way he constantly runs his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit. He would be amused by this if it wasn’t for the hurt look in your eyes.

The door opens and Nancy walks out with a box, grinning at Eddie, “we got corn, tuna, beans, we even found some trail mix and chips, they might be a little stale but–”

“Is she still inside?” Steve asks, interrupting her as he looks over her shoulder.

“Yeah, she’s desperately looking for something sweet,” Nancy chuckles as she moves past him, getting into the RV to put away the things she gathered.

Eddie takes one last drag of his cigarette before he throws it on the ground, killing the flame with his boot; he starts making his way over to the entrance when he feels a hand on his chest, pushing him back against the RV.

“Stay here,” Steve orders as he makes his way inside instead, wanting to use this moment to be alone with you, to talk to you, to apologize. He closes the door behind him and takes a look around. Most shelves are empty, covered in dust and cobwebs, some cans and bottles are lying around, and an unpleasant smell hangs heavy in the air. He hears some rustling to his right, followed by a string of curse words falling from your mouth. He follows that sound, careful not to step on any fallen object. He finds you in the last aisle, and he notices that one of the shelves has fallen over, leaving a mess on the floor, some bags of candy and chips lying beneath it and you are crouched before it, searching for something, the variety before you seemingly not satisfying enough.

Steve opens his mouth but he quickly closes it again when he feels the coil in his throat.

“Reese’s pieces and sour patch kids are not the most popular candy in the apocalypse I guess,” you mumble as you turn around, not expecting to be met by hazel eyes and that guilty face. “Oh… it’s you.”

Your face falls and his heart drops, he grows nervous.

“I-I yeah, uh,” he stutters, bringing his hand up to his hair to run his fingers through it. Now that he stands here before you, he doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know how to start with his apology, he doesn’t even know how to apologize, he was so mean to you when all you wanted was to help, you wanted him to come with you, you wanted him to leave the dying town because you didn’t want him to die with it. “I wanted to check up on you… Nance found a bunch of cans.”

Your eyes scan his face, the nervousness and the guilt filled eyes – that is the only reason why he is here, the guilt is eating him alive and he can’t handle it, it’s not even about you and that he hurt you, it’s about himself, only about himself.

“Yeah, we got lucky.” You mumble as you turn around again, no longer focused on the candy, you just don’t want to face him. It’s difficult enough avoiding him in the RV.

He hates the stoic tone in your voice, it’s so unlike you. Even when he was cold towards you back in Hawkins, you were never like this with him.

He looks down at you, noticing how slow your movements have become, how you are no longer moving the bags of candies around, looking for that one specific one. You don’t want to look at him and he doesn’t blame you, he can’t.

“Can I help you?” He asks, not knowing how to start this off, not wanting to make it any more awkward than it already is.

A sigh falls from your lips, you close your eyes and take a deep breath.

Steve is being nice, kind – it’s the side of him you were looking for a few days ago, and you couldn’t find it then. If it’s driven by guilt now, then you don’t want this kindness.

You push yourself up, taking another deep breath, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You know you have to start talking to him again at some point, you can’t bear this awkwardness for long either.

You also can’t bear this look on his face, those stupid eyes, the pout and his tousled hair. You don’t want to look at him in that way. You know he wants to apologize, you also know that he sucks at it.

“No, I’m done here.” You shrug, gesturing to the box you filled with snacks and toiletries you could find, along with other things you could need for the RV. You’re about to bend down to pick up the box when he stops you by placing his hand before you.

“I got it,” Steve murmurs, adjusting his bat as he bends down to grab the box.

“Okay…” You mumble, pulling back.

You wait for him to move, to turn around and walk out of the store but he doesn’t, instead he straightens his back, with the box on his hands, he directs his gaze at you again.

You brace yourself for what he is about to say, taking a deep breath, you cross your arms over your chest.

He starts by saying your name, softly, carefully. You realize how foreign it sounds rolling off his tongue.

“I-I know this won’t change what I did, what I said but I’m really sorry, I’m sorry for hurting you, for saying those things about your family. I was… I didn’t want to leave, I was angry – and I know that’s not an excuse – I… fuck… I’m horrible at this but I’m just, I’m really sorry. I hope your family is okay and that you will see them again�� soon.”

You can hear the desperation in his voice, the need to make this right. You can see the softness in his eyes, something you aren’t familiar with in the slightest. His lips are curled downwards, the sadness in his features so clear.

You nod, the tension in your shoulders from all these previous days slowly falling.

“Thank you, Steve, I appreciate your apology.” The tone in your voice and the look on your face isn’t so convincing though. “And I know that my family is okay, I will see them soon.”

Good. He didn’t kill your hope. He hopes that it’s good.

His lips curl up a bit, you are so set on it, you are so sure of it, that your family is okay and that you will reunite with them. It scares him a bit. You are so hopeful now, so confident about it – what will happen when you won’t find them the way you wish to? What will happen to you? Will you lose yourself the way he did when he lost her? Will you die the way he did? Will you be a ghost trapped in a living body?

You forgive him, but you don’t crack a smile, not even a small one, not like you used to even when he was being an asshole to you. You clear your throat and break eye contact, brushing the fallen strands from your single braid behind your ears.

The tension between you is still there, the awkwardness and the hurt in your features. He has to try harder than this, an ‘I’m sorry’ won’t cut it.

“I–”

“We should go, we need to set up camp before it gets dark.”

Before he can even say, or try to say anything, you move past him, hurrying out of the store, wanting some distance between you just like before. He can’t blame you, he can’t be mad at you but his shoulders slump still, and his face falls too. He didn’t feel this before, he didn’t feel this kind of guilt back in Hawkins because he wasn’t vulnerable, his feelings were bottled up and the lid was closed tightly, there was no space for those kinds of emotions, anything other than anger was impossible for him to feel.

But after he let her go, after he allowed himself to finally grieve and cry, to empty that bottle of emotions, he started feeling everything again, all at once, overwhelmingly so, and now it all feels so intense.

The urge to run his fingers through his hair is strong but his hands are full. He sighs loudly, shifting on his feet, he is about to follow you out when his eyes catch a glimpse of something red underneath one of the broken shelves, something you must have been looking for.

The fire crackles before you, the flames are kept low to not attract attention. You sit close to it, needing warmth on your cold skin, the blanket around you isn’t enough, the gusts of wind cause goosebumps to rise on your skin. It’s mid fall, but it’s already getting so cold, and you could smell the hint of winter nearing.

You can’t help but feel a little jealous of Nancy and Eddie, they get to sleep in the warm RV tonight while you stay out here, doing night watch with Steve. You volunteered yourself, though you quickly regretted it when Steve said he’d join you.

You were successfully avoiding that the past three days, you either did night watch with Eddie or Nancy. Last night you were the lucky one who got to sleep in the big bed while Steve took the couch – now you are sitting here, out in the cold, tugging the blanket closer around you.

Steve left to do a perimeter check, not trusting the area despite how safe it seems compared to the ones you have spent your nights at in the past when you were still by yourself. He didn’t want to listen to you though, he grabbed his rifle and left about twenty minutes ago.

You hold your mug filled with coffee tightly to your chest, chasing that warmth and the smell that reminds you of the past, of simple mornings in your bed with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and your favorite book. You wonder if you will ever get to experience that, if you will find a place that will allow you to live like you used to.

The sudden sound of footsteps behind you, startles you a little, and he seems to notice.

“Just me.”

You wish you could lose that tension in your body again, but you don’t, knowing that you will have to spend the night with him, that you can’t use excuses to run from him, to avoid him, to avoid talking to him.

He walks around you, glancing at you briefly, he places his rifle down, leaning it against the other free camping chair. You expect him to take a seat, instead he walks away and towards the RV. You watch him curiously, how he carefully opens the door and steps inside on tiptoes, not wanting to wake Nancy and Eddie.

You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward a little. You keep staring at the door, waiting for him to come back out, though when he steps back out, you quickly look down, hiding your curious eyes from him.

You hear the click of the door and his boots against the stairs as he walks down, his feet hit the grass in soft thuds. You hear the rustling of plastic. It sparks your interest again, wondering what he got from the RV but you don’t look up, not until his boots come into your vision and he stands right before you.

Your eyebrows pull together even more, a confused frown making its way onto your face. You tilt your head up to look at him, though your eyes meet his only briefly before the bag in his hand catches your attention and suddenly, all the tension in your body disappears, your lips part and you straighten your back, a little too quickly, causing the blanket to fall from your shoulders.

Steve’s lips curl into a small smile, he tries to hide it but the excitement on your face and how your eyes light up, make it impossible for him to.

"Kitkats!?" You yell in a whisper, trying not to shriek and jump to your feet. “You found Kitkats!?”

He can’t hold back the chuckle now, his chest bubbling with an unfamiliar feeling as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, the last bag, it was stuck between one of the shelves,” he explains, biting his cheek when your eyes look into his. “Your favorite candy… it’s what you were looking for, right?”

Your eyes soften and your lips curl into a small smile. He remembered. He remembered your favorite candy even though it was mentioned only briefly. Warmth floods your chest and something flips in your stomach.

You nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper as you bring up your hand to take the bag from him, “I’ve been looking for them everywhere!”

“Yeah, it nearly got you killed,” Steve shakes his head at you and at your gas station incident before you found your way to Hawkins.

You shrug as you place the bag onto your lap, “now you know how much I love chocolate.”

Steve gives you half a smile and a breathy chuckle, he looks at you for another long moment before he steps back and sits down on the camping chair next to you. He leans back and crosses his feet, staring into the fire.

“Please don’t get yourself killed for chocolate,” he murmurs.

“It’s the only thing that brings me happiness!” You exclaim in that tone that he began to miss.

“Is it really?” He asks you, turning back to look at you. You have got to be the happiest person he has ever met, you always find a reason to smile, you always find something to be excited about, to look forward to, even in a world like this. He can’t relate, not in the slightest.

You look down at the bag of candy, shrugging, “no, you know me. I have a lot of hope.” Your words come out with a saddened look on your face.

Guilt fills him instantly, he judged you for it, he judged you for something that he no longer has. Hope. Life – there is none of that left in him anymore, no light turned on, while yours is still blazing and glowing brightly. Yours didn’t fade, yours hasn’t been touched by the ugliness of this world.

He whispers your name softly, his faint voice so guilt filled.

“It’s good that you have it, that you still have some… life left in you, makes it a bit easier to bear this world.” He admits nervously. “I know you must think I’m a horrible person, I’ve said horrible things–”

“I don’t think you’re a horrible person, Steve,” you interrupt him, turning your head towards him to find him looking at you already, his hazel eyes filled with regret, you know he wishes he could take his words back. “You were hurt and angry, you were grieving.”

He blinks.

“Yeah, but I was an asshole–”

“It’s okay, you apologized, you’re not being an asshole now, that’s what matters.” You shrug, not wanting him to feel bad anymore.

He nods slowly, not moving his eyes away from you. The light from the fire illuminates your face, he sees all the emotions flickering in your eyes, every twitch of your lip, every frown, the softness of your skin, the color of your lips– he catches himself quickly, and instantly forces himself to look away.

“And maybe you can find that hope again…” You add, carefully.

“I doubt that. I never had that in the first place, not even then…” He stops when he catches himself spilling more than he would like to. He turns to you, and you are looking right at him, with a frown on your lips and a curious look in your eyes. You want to know and a part of him wants to talk, to let things out. A part of him even feels like he owes it to you.

He takes a deep breath, looking back into the flames.

“I-I… I feel like a part of me…” He hesitates, struggling to find the right words. “When Robin died, it felt like a part of me was ripped out of my chest and I buried that part with her. The day she died, I died too – only that I am still breathing and she isn’t… I didn’t want to leave Hawkins because I felt like she was still there, like I could be with her. Leaving meant accepting her death, accepting that she is gone, accepting that I am still alive, that I have to find a way to live without her.”

His eyes glisten with tears, his cheeks burn red, illuminated by the flames. He doesn’t hold back, he doesn’t hide the sadness on his face.

You don’t either, you can’t imagine what goes on inside of him, how the sadness eats at him, how the darkness took hold of him.

“I was so angry at myself for not being able to protect her, I was so angry at this world for taking her from me that I grew hateful of everything and everyone, I didn’t want to leave, I didn’t want Nancy and Eddie to leave. I now see how selfish that was but in the state I was in, I was just so�� mad and unaccepting of the fact that they wanted to live, something that I did not want. I didn’t want to live again. I knew I’d have to the moment I’d step foot outside again, I would have to fight to protect them, I would have to fight for survival, I would be forced to move. I wouldn’t be able to visit her or be with her… ever again.”

Your chest feels tight with grief for him, you can’t imagine what he felt like when he lost her, and even now. You can see how much he is struggling still, the pain in his eyes is so clear, his voice is slightly shaky, like he is about to break into tears again.

He lost someone he loved so dearly. He lost his best friend. You had them too, best friends. But they never stayed that for long, none of them ever loved you the way Steve loved Robin.

You can’t help but wonder if he felt more for her, if it wasn’t only friendship for him.

“Robin was the first person who was my friend not because I was King Steve,” he scoffs at his popular nickname from High School. “She was my friend because she liked me, she was the first person who wanted to get to know me, who wanted to spend time with me, who was there not only on my good days but also on the bad. She loved me for me.” There is a tremble in his voice, a stronger one than before, he is pained, so pained that it hurts your heart.

You don’t know what to say, there are no right words to comfort him, to make him feel better, to take away his pain. He needs this, he needs to talk, to let it out – though you are surprised that he chose to do it with you.

“She was the first person who held me, who comforted me, who was there.” He sniffles, staring down at his shaky hands as he goes back to the day when they were covered in her blood. “I was the last to hold her.”

You blink when you feel your own tears welling up, the warmth stinging in your eyes. You watch how tears start rolling down his cheeks. A part of you wants to wipe them away and take his hand or even hug him, to give him the comfort that he needs. But you doubt that he’d want it from you.

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” you whisper so sadly that it brings a new wave of tears into his eyes.

His heart feels so heavy, the sadness burning in him, the grief coming back to life once again as he thinks of that night when he lost his best friend, his soulmate, his other half. A moment of weakness and she was gone – it was only a second that he looked away, it was only a split moment that he turned his back before he heard her scream, the pained sound, the ripping of flesh, blood spilling from her neck and staining her clothes and her hand as she clung desperately to the cut in her throat from where the Demogorgon had sliced her skin open. He remembers how he turned around in horror, how his heart stopped beating and the world stopped moving. They almost made it out, they almost made it out of Hawkins together like they always wanted to. Almost. She wasn’t supposed to be the last to get on the bus, it was supposed to be him but he had a child in his arms, a little boy who lost his parents, he needed to get him to safety. Robin was right behind him, she was right there, they were in the clear, she was already one foot inside the bus when that monster came out of nowhere.

He remembers the look in her eyes when he saw what had happened, he remembers the adrenaline that flooded through his body when he jumped out of the bus with an axe in his hand, he doesn’t even remember how he killed it, he only remembers dropping to his knees and pulling her weak body into his arms, he remembers how he promised her.

‘You will be okay, Robin. I promise, you will be okay. I got you, I got you, Birdie.’

But the life in her eyes was fading, tears slipping from the corners and down onto the cold ground, mixing with her blood as he pressed his hand to her wound. She held his hand, gripped it tightly, like she was afraid to let go. She struggled out his name and looked at him with nothing but fear in her eyes, a look that haunts him to this day.

She didn’t want to die, she said so herself, she even begged because she was so afraid, and he was too.

There was nothing he could do, there was no fixing it, there was no saving her. He could only hold her and watch how she died, how she slowly slipped away from him, how in her last remaining moments she only looked at him and into his eyes because that is the only place she found comfort in. She died in the arms of someone she felt at home with, she died in the arms of someone who loved her more than anything and he… he lost that, he lost his home.

When he is done recalling that night, telling you every gory, every heartbreaking detail, he only tastes the saltiness from his tears, feels himself choking up though he doesn’t let the cries fall the way he did that night. He feels his heart hurting once again – though at the same time, it hasn’t felt this alive in a while.

He wipes away his tears, and his voice dies. He doesn’t look to you, not yet but he hears your soft sniffle, hears you shifting around. From the corner of his eye, he watches you put your things down, the mug that must be cold by now and the candy he gave to you. And then, you scoot closer to him and you slowly lift your arm and place your hand on his shoulder, a comforting touch he has grown unfamiliar with.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper and he notices how shaky your voice is too.

He turns his head slowly, his eyes searching for your own, he sees every emotion – shock, sadness, pain, understanding.

“I can’t imagine this… pain and what you are still going through. Robin deserved better, both of you.” You look back into the fire, frowning. “I understand why you didn’t want to leave, why you feel that way. I’d feel dead if I lost someone I loved that much.”

Your heart hurts for him, squeezing in a painful way. His words sadden you. He feels dead, lost in a world that took away his other half and now he’s just a shell of himself, a pained soul. You wonder if he will ever find his way back to himself, you wonder if you could if you were in his place.

“I do believe that she is with you though, i-if she was your soulmate, then she is with you… forever. She might have left this world but her energy is still there, always with you, following you every step of the way.”

Steve purses his lips, tilting his head at you, “like a guardian angel?”

A small smile appears on your face, you nod, “yeah, kinda. Maybe she will send you a sign, maybe she did already and you haven’t noticed.”

“A sign?” He shakes his head, still looking at you curiously, “like what?”

You shrug and turn to face him again, “you’ll know it, it has to be something that is– was special to you both, whether it’s a song on the radio or her favorite animal.”

“Oh,” he nods, furrowing his eyebrows as he wonders if he had missed any signs, if he was so focused on his grief that he paid no attention to what was going on around him. He falls silent, eyes focused on the flames before him.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper after a long moment of silence.

He leans forward, pressing his hands together over his knees as he fiddles with his fingers, he looks back at you, raising his eyebrows in question.

“Thank you for telling me, for opening up to me, that means a lot.”

He nods, taking in your softened features, your kind eyes that gleam again, and the comforting smile you look at him with. It warms his insides and causes his cheeks to flush but among these reactions, he also feels something else, a lightness in his chest that he hasn’t felt in so long, he needed to do this, to talk about this, to tell someone what he truly feels.

“Thank you for listening,” he retorts, offering you a smile–a first, a genuine one. Your eyes light up at that, your shoulders rising a bit as you straighten your back, surprise flashes in your features and your smile only widens. It’s endearing, he has to admit that.

“Always.”

You look into each other’s eyes for a moment. You are surprised to see kindness, genuine and real kindness, and you can’t help but feel giddy at that.

You are surprised when he moves closer to you, the smile still lingering on his face. He bumps his shoulder against yours, “I’m gonna be nicer from now on.”

You accepted him for who he is, his grumpiness and his rough demeanor sometimes. You don’t want him to change, you don’t want him to feel like he has to.

“You don’t have to pretend–”

“I am not… I know I’m… kind of returning to who I was… slowly,” he murmurs. It’s something he didn’t want. He didn’t want to heal. He didn’t want to move on because he knew it meant accepting that she was gone but you were right, that night when you found him at her grave, you told him that she wouldn’t want this for him, and he hated it, hated that you were right and he hated how he felt that sparkle inside of him ignite again after he finally allowed himself to properly cry and grieve.

“And who were you?” You asked with that tilt of your head as always.

He knows what Robin would have said and he can’t help but smile.

“... A fucking idiot.”

You giggle at his words but shake your head.

“No, I doubt that!”

“I saw the good in things… something I haven’t in over a year, and now I can– I am starting to feel it again… It’s not there yet but…”

You smile again, looking into the fire. You saw him smiling with Eddie today, heard his chuckle when the metalhead tripped over a log. It was a nice sound and the smile looked good on him.

“Yeah, it looks better on you.” You whisper, not looking away from the flames.

He tries not to look at you for too long but he can’t help it .He likes the way the golden light touches your skin, the way your eyes shine with contentment, the way your body is so relaxed again, something that wasn’t the case the previous nights. He likes the faint dimple on your cheek as you smile. He admires the way your lashes flutter every time you blink, the way you sink your teeth into your bottom lip, the way you–

He breaks himself out of his thoughts, forcing his eyes away from you, he clears his throat, jumping a bit when he looks down at his backpack, “ah wait–” he grabs it and unzips it quickly, taking out the radio from their living room back in Hawkins. “You guys left it, I thought we could use some music… sometimes.”

You smile widely at him, nodding.

“Let’s see what stations we can pick up.”

While Steve is trying to find a signal, to find a station that plays music, you reach for the second mug you had prepared before and grab the jug where you had cooked the coffee earlier. It’s still hot, steam rising up into the cold air when you pour him a cup. You place the mug on the small camping table that Eddie had set up earlier. Steve flashes you a smile, whispering ‘thank you’ followed by your name.

You open the bag of Kitkat’s, excitement bubbling up in you to taste your favorite candy again. You pick out one of the bars and place it next to his coffee.

“You’re sharing your Kitkats with me? No way!” Steve gasps and chuckles when you roll your eyes in amusement. “Did you just roll your eyes at me, sunshine?”

You giggle at the perplexed look on his face, ignoring the way the nickname made you feel warm all over.

“What if I did?”

“Then I’ll say that one of them,” he points his thumb at the RV, “is a real bad influence on you.”

You snort and shake your head, “hmm, I don’t know. You're sassier than Eddie and Nancy.”

“Me? Sassy!?” He scoffs.

“Yeah, you’re sassy, Steve. Accept it.”

He shakes his head in amusement but doesn’t comment on it, he looks down at the radio when the static noise suddenly disappears and he finds a station.

And surprisingly… ‘Dream a little dream of me’ by Ella Fitzgerald starts playing, filling the space between you.

The song is calm, warm, a distant memory of your father dancing with your mother in the kitchen while they prepared dinner on a sunday afternoon. Then, your brain processed what Steve had said, a question lingering in your lips.

“Why sunshine?”

“Hmm?” He asked, his eyes closed in relaxation as he leans back in his chair. You could see the expanse of his neck, the markings around it, his Adam's apple– You shake your head to focus once again.

“You called me sunshine. Why?” You tilt your head in question and his eyes open, his head turning to face you again.

“I don’t know. You’re just… You just remind me of the sun.” He says as if his words mean nothing, as if his words were just that. Words. You giggle, not understanding the meaning of it.

“The sun? Hot and unbearable?” You say in a joking manner, earning a chuckle from his part, an authentic one. He closed his eyes again, leaning back as the song played along.

“No. Bright and warm.” Your smile fell instantly, not because you didn’t like his definition. Not because you thought that what he described you as was stupid. Not because you thought he was lying to you or making fun of you, because you could hear it in his voice that he wasn’t.

No.

Your smile fell because you swear your heart just skipped a beat.

☀︎

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