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scarisd3ad · 22 days

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Jump then fall | Steve Harrington x reader

Chapter two - ‘I wish that you would stay in my memories’

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Summary - after 7 years of being split apart from your childhood friend Steve you return to hawkins after your younger sisters tragic death, and parents messy divorce. But the Steve you came back to isn’t the same Steve you left behind.

My dad and I spent the entire weekend practically dancing around the topic of our fight Friday night. We didn't talk much; I slept in both days; he went to work early; he got home late, and I locked myself in my room. So, Monday morning is awkward. I'm in my room getting ready for school. I try my hardest to stall. Taking forever picking out my outfit (a pair of straight-legged jeans, a white tank top, an old flannel, and my black Converse), brushing my hair and teeth, and ensuring everything's in my bag. Unfortunately, I didn't take long enough because my dad was still sitting at our dining room table (which isn't much of a dining room table) reading a newspaper.

I knew he was waiting for me because he was fully dressed in his uniform, and it was evident that he hadn't just gotten up. I place my bag on the kitchen counter as I say, "You're going to be late," he mutters a quiet "Nope" as he lets the newspaper fall to the table. "Told Flo I was coming in late today" I take out two bowls as I choose what cereal I would like to start my day with. cocoa puffs, obviously. Dad won't eat breakfast unless I force him to. It's not a 'woman should make all meals for men' mentality, it's a 'breakfast is useless, and I won't eat it unless I'm getting it shoved down my throat' mentality. So normally every morning before I leave for school, I shove a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice or water in front of him in hopes that he'll at least take a few bites.

"Cocoa puffs good with you?" I ask as I pour my bowl, "yeah, that's fine" he replies as I go on to pour his as well. I place his bowl in front of him and he immediately begins to dig in while I walk back over to my bowl that is still sat on the counter. "You need a ride to school?" Dad asks, words muffled as he continues to shove spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth even as he talks. "mhm," I reply with a nod as I swallow down a spoonful of cereal.

We both Scarff down our cereal, before attempting to try to make it to my school before the first late bell. Dad parked in front of the front door of Hawkins High as we bid our goodbyes. "Do you need a ride home? Can take my break then if you need me to." I shrug, "Dunno, I'll call you if I need you to" he nods and mutters a quiet "alright, bye love you" I nod as I push open the passenger door and hop out. Just as I was about to sling my bag over my shoulder, two arms wrapped around my waist. I internally groan. I don't like doing the whole PDA thing in front of my dad. It's embarrassing, but because I don't want to upset Shawn, I go ahead with it, anyway. I turn around so I face Shawn. "Where have you been? Haven't heard from you all weekend."

"grounded" I mutter with an eye-roll. he fully ignores the fact that my father is sitting in the vehicle behind us as he presses his lips against mine, trying to initiate a full-on make-out session. I kiss him back; I just don't let it become anything more than an elongated peck. I push Shawn away before turning back around towards my father. Dad could tell I was uncomfortable with the whole exchange that had just happened. Dad's eyebrows raised almost as if he was saying, "him really?" I shrug as I say, "Bye Dad love you" and slam the passenger door shut so he can drive off.

Shawn's arm wraps around my waist as we walk into school. "Don't you ever do that again," I say as we walk through the front doors of Hawkins High. "What?!" he exclaims, almost as if he has no common sense. Maybe all of those football head injuries have permanently damaged his critical thinking skills. "don't ever try to kiss me like that in front of my dad, he's- he's not cool like your dad is" Shawn's dad is in many ways just like Shawn and still hasn't outgrown the 'high school jock' mentality even after having two kids, so he's what most teenagers would consider a 'cool dad'. Shawn's dad has packed up him, his wife, and their 6-year-old daughter so Shawn could try in his words 'to get his dick wet'. they left for an entire weekend so Shawn and I could have 'alone time' My dad would beat Shawn's ass if he ever found out I wasn't at Steph's that weekend.

"Fine, okay," Shawn mutters as we stop at my locker. Before I can even try to open my locker, I'm being pressed against the locker, and his lips are pressed against mine. I didn't care about this kind of PDA at school, because every other couple was doing the same exact thing, but Shawn trying to engage in this level of PDA in front of my father just felt wrong. My arms are immediately around his neck as he deepens the kiss. We're interrupted by the sound of a loud bang against the locker beside mine. We pull apart quickly, both our heads darting to see who had made the sound. Steph stood there with a disgusted look on her face as she rolled her eyes. "God, you guys are disgusting," she muttered as she unlocked her locker.

Steph didn't really like men. We'll she liked Jamie Lockhart in eighth grade, but I'm sure that was a phase. Ever since the last day of eighth grade, she's never even shown an interest in men. She only cared about cheer, her grades, and this senior girl, Taylor Scott. She was tall, on the girls' basketball team, and had long ginger hair.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter with an eye-roll as Steph takes her English notebook out of her locker. "You want to skip first period? Hang out in my car?" Shawn asks, Steph fake gags already knowing what Shawn means by 'hang out' My eyes wander to my left to see Steve. he's stood by the boy's bathrooms, arms crossed over his chest as he glared in our direction. Was he glaring at Shawn? he had that same jealous look on his face. He couldn't possibly be jealous? Could he? No, he couldn't, especially when I found out last night when Dad plugged my phone back up that he had been fooling around with Nancy Wheeler all weekend long.

"y/n?" I'm pulled from my thoughts. My eyes dart back toward Shawn before muttering, "Yeah, yeah sure."

"We should go," I mutter, pulling away from Shawn's lips. His left hand rubs circles into the skin underneath my shirt. He whines "But-" I shake my head. "I need to at least go to my second period," he hums and quietly nods. "Fine, but can we come back out here after lunch" I roll my eyes. "Maybe"

When I get back into the building, I immediately begin to walk towards my second period, which is English. I walk into classroom 105 and take a seat right smack dab in the middle, close enough to see the board, but not too close to be the center of attention. Steve was sitting in the back with a few other junior friends who failed sophomore English last year like he did. I swear he's trying to fail it a second time, which wouldn't be the first time he's done that. The late bell rings and the teacher, Mrs. Sanchez, begins her lesson. I pay enough attention to grasp the concepts, but not too much attention to be labeled as a nerd.

"Alright for this project I want you to group up in pairs." the whole class celebrates with quiet 'yes's and 'hell ya's.' but the celebration is quickly disrupted by Mrs. Sanchez continuing her sentence. "Pairs that I will be picking, so when I call your name, stand up and find somewhere to sit with your partner" I zone out, as I anxiously await to hear my name. Finally, at about the halfway point, Mrs. Sanchez calls out my name and then pairs it with Steve Harrington. Of course. Obviously, I no longer completely disliked him after our conversation at Friday's football game, but that didn't mean I wanted to do an entire project with him.

I let out a quiet groan, hoping he'd hear it, and decide to let me do all the work. I get up because he is sitting there, leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face. I pull the now empty desk next to him, so it presses against his, before I sit down. "So, what's this supposed to be about?" Steve asks just as Mrs. Sanchez begins passing out a sheet of paper. She places a sheet right where our desks are conjoined. Both Steve and I race to pick up the sheet of paper, and I win, taking the obviously freshly copied piece of paper into my hands. In big bold letters, the words 'paired essay assignment' is printed at the top with 'graded' in a smaller font just below it. I place the paper down on my desk and write our names and the date at the top.

'Y/N Hopper and Steve Harrington 10/7/83'

"You will compare the books we've read so far this year, 'Fahrenheit 451' and 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' noting the similarities and differences between the two," I read out loud. I know Steve is barely listening to what I'm saying, but I want Mrs. Sanchez to at least see that I'm trying to work with him. I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes before reading out the next sentence. "You can either write an essay or create a poster board" I turn my head to Steve, noticing him staring at a girl seated up at the front, a freshman named Lacie Tompson who was somehow so smart she skipped up to sophomore English. "So, which one do you want to do?"

Steve turns his head, shrugging. "Which is the easiest?" I hum as I pondered. The essay would be easier for me to do all the work, but the poster would be easier for him if he somehow decided he wanted to do some of the work. "Poster, probably," I reply, leaning back into my seat. He nods and replies, "Poster," before beginning to talk to one of his basketball friends.

Once 8th period ended, I raced out to the payphones that sat alone on the side of the school. Ever since I stayed out a little too late and didn't tell my father where I was, he implemented a rule that I had to inform him of my whereabouts after school, even if I'd be back home before him. It was an absolute pain, but I'd rather take the two seconds to call the station than face his wrath later tonight. I push a few quarters into the coin slot before punching in the station's number.

It rings 3 times, bringggg, bringgg, bringggg.

Before Flo answers the phone, as usual. "Hello this is Hawkins police station; my name is Florence. How may I help you?" I let her get out the scripted sentence she's mandated to say before rushing through my own words. "Hey, Flo. Is my dad there? " Flo's silent for a second as if she's looking at the schedule before she replies "No ma'am" I groan. Where could he possibly be at 3:30 on a Monday? "Where is he?" she hums before saying, "Should still be at the middle school if you catch him in time. " I groan once again, rushing out a "thanks" before turning around to see Steve in his BMW pulling up.

"So, we're going to mine or not?" he asks as he rolls down his passenger side window. I groan, hanging the phone back up on the pay phone. I walk over to his car and get into the passenger side, "gotta go to the middle school and ask my dad" I say with an eye roll as I buckled up. He nods, muttering a quiet "okay" before driving off towards the exit. We drive over to the middle school, and Steve parks next to the front door. Letting me hop out and run inside.

I pull the heavy metal front doors open before walking into all so familiar hallways of Hawkins Middle School. There were still a few students roaming the halls, and some still stalled at their lockers as they talked to their friends. I take a left before reaching the large glass door that leads into the office. I could already see the secretary sitting at her desk, pretending to type away at her computer. I pull the door open and walk inside. The woman, who looked to be in her 50s looked up. "Yes?" Her words drew out, almost as if she found my very existence annoying. "Is my dad here? Jim hopper?" I ask. She nods her head toward the principal's office. "he's in Principal Coleman's office. " I nod and begin to walk down the long hallway toward the principal's office.

The principal's office is at the very end of the hallway. Once I get there, the door is wide open. My dad sits in the chair across from Coleman's. He's leaned back laughing away almost like they were old friends. "Dad," I say, both men look up at me. He hums in response like I was just such a distraction from his awesome conversation with Principal Coleman. "Can I go to Steves?" his eyebrows raise before he replies, "Steve Harrington?" I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest "Yes" he laughs, head turning towards Coleman, who then laughs as well. Probably reliving the mortifying moment when my father punched a 13-year-old. "you two friends again?" he asks in astonishment. I shake my head; I could hardly call us 'friends'. I just slightly tolerate him more than I did before. "We have an English project"

Dad shakes his head before saying "mm no, if you need to do this you can do it at home." My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open. I didn't want to do this at my house. It was embarrassing. Our house was embarrassing. I groan, arms crossing over my chest. I turn around, stomping out of the room, muttering curses under my breath. "If you aren't home when I get off, so help me god!" he shouts, which makes me roll my eyes.

When I get back outside, I see Steve still parked up front, with his head bobbing slightly to the music playing out of his radio. I get back into his car, slamming the door behind me. "He said we have to do it at my house," I mutter, arms still crossed over my chest. Steve smiles, nodding. "Yeah, that's okay. Same place?" he asks. I shake my head "No we moved just...y'know that street that goes in the woods?" he nods "Just go down that one. I'll tell you where to go from there. "

The normally paved roads turn to dirt within a few miles into the woods. "Turn down the next road. You'll see it," I say. I don't know why I always felt so embarrassed about the wooden cabin we lived in. It'd be a cool hang-out space if my dad wasn't such a buzzkill. There was barely anyone else around for miles except an elderly couple who lived a few more miles down the main road. Steve nods and turns down the dirt road. A few miles down, my house begins to come into view. "Cool," Steve mutters under his breath as he parks the car on the side of the gravel road. "How long have you guys lived out here?" Steve asks as he gets out of the car. I also get out, slamming the door behind me. "Few years..." I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets as we walked up to the house. Once we get up to the front door, I take the key out of my pocket, shove it into the lock, and twist it before pushing the door open.

I walk in, Steve following closely behind. I switch the living room lights on as Steve closes the front door. I cross my arms over my chest, watching as Steve's eyes flick around the room. There's not much to look at though. The only things that stood in the living room were a couch, lounge chair, TV set, and one singular picture of Sara that sat on the coffee table. "Um, I guess we can go to my room," I say. He nods and follows me into my room. I push the door open and turn the lights on.

He does the same thing he had done in the other room, exploring the room with his eyes. Suddenly everything about my room makes me feel immature. The baby pink sheets and the stuffed animals that decorated the end of my bed. The photos of Sara and I from when we were younger taped to my walls. I'm scared Steve will make fun of me for it all. But he doesn't pay any mind to the pink or stuffed animals or the childhood pictures I clung to because that's all I had left of my dead sister. He walks over to the collection of pictures and points to one, one that sits at the very edge of the collection. "Hey, I remember that," he says, his finger sitting on a younger, innocent version of him.

We're all sitting on Sara, and I's old porch eating popsicles. somehow, I can still remember every aspect of that day like it was yesterday. I can still remember how the sun blazed down against the pavement, the sugary cherry taste of the popsicle, and how Steve wrapped his chubby arm around my shoulder when my mom brought out the camera. I don't even know why that picture was up there. We had moved into this house months after our friendship had its downfall. Looking at it now makes my chest ache; it makes me feel stupid. I wanted him to look around my room and see I had nothing left of our friendship in it. But somehow, he was able to find the crumbs of our past that were still sprinkled around in my life. I just couldn't let us go, no matter how much of a jerk he was to me.

I wrap my arms around my body muttering "Yeah, me too" under my breath before sitting on my bed. I clear my throat, and Steve turns around, brows furrowed together. "Um, we should get started...right?" he nods, muttering a quiet "yeah" that he paired with an eye-roll, before walking over to my bed and taking a seat next to me.

"I was thinking that um...we could get one of those big poster boards...and, like, put the differences on each side, and then put the similarities in the middle. Kind of like a neater bubble map, y'know?" he nods as he leans back against my headboard. "Yeah. Um, that's good. I can get that poster board tomorrow or something like that" I nod, humming a quiet "Mhm."

The silence got more awkward as the seconds ticked by. We just sit there. The room feels like it gets impossibly smaller. It's been so long since Steve and I had been in a room by ourselves together. We were totally different people, basically strangers. I hate it. "If you want to...you can go home," I whisper, arms crossed over my chest awkwardly. It's not that I wanted Steve to leave, I just wanted this version of Steve to leave. I wanted our old dynamic to come back. We used to never be able to sit in a room this quiet. How did all this happen? Why did all this happen? Why did God feel the need to rip another person I cherished so much away from me?

"Yeah...um I can go. I'll see you tomorrow," he mutters before getting up, the bed squeaking underneath him. As he walks out of my room, the sound of his jingling keys resonates in the air. I strain to listen as his footsteps gradually fade until the front door slams shut and the faint hum of his car tells me he's finally left.

Dad gets home a few hours later. I'm sitting on the couch flipping through channels when I hear the front door creak open. "hey" Dad mutters as he toes off his shoes and puts his keys up. It's not long before Dad takes his usual spot next to me on the couch. "How was work?" I ask as I settle on a channel playing The Shining. He shrugs, grumbling under his breath before saying, "Byers kid went missing," he mutters.

I blink a few times, letting his words sink in. I wouldn't say I was close to the family, but I did babysit for them a handful of times. Will Byers was close with Mike Wheeler, a boy I babysat often, so I saw him almost every time I was at the Wheelers. Will was a shy, nerdy boy. he wasn't the type to run away, but not the type to be gullible enough to get kidnapped. "What?" I ask, brows furrowed as I turn my head towards my father.

"Will didn't come home last night after leaving the wheelers. We think he might have run away or his father took him."

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