#bc eddie doesn't deserve that he's still a great dad | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starry-eyed-steve-library · 6 months ago

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The end really got me here. 😭💔

First of all, I can only emphasize that this is rn my favorite Steve series. It's so well written and different (in a good way), I'm so in love with this. 💗

First of all, shout out to Louise, what a gem. One of the many Steve/Frankie shippers (what's their shipname?). My girl knows what's up, and I loved her snarky comments so much. The way she looked out for Frankie was really sweet. 💗

Sidenote: Thanks again for touching on Steve's insecurity around his scars. It's refreshing to see that it's not brushed off so easily, and realistically, he would feel some type of way. (We already got proof that his neck scar won't be there in s5, which is disappointing, but I'm not surprised. Thanks for including it in this fic 💗)

I really feel for Frankie's dad. Losing his wife and then having to watch his daughter struggle, it's gotta be tough. I loved his interaction with Steve and Steve promising to keep his daughter safe. Also loved her dad as Steve's doctor, it's super hard finding someone who takes you seriously. I'm happy to read about a positive experience. 💗

I always get a smile on my face as soon as the gang shows up. Their banter is just super hilarious (and in character). Absolutely obsessed with the idea that they are now neighbors soon. 💗

I really loved that you touched on Steve's feelings towards his friends, meaning his guilt of potentially holding Robin back and that's now eased by his other friends being there. I think it's realistic he would think that way, especially bc he doesn't want to see himself as an inconvenience. I love that he can talk to Eddie about some aspects, but it's still limited, which is understandable. I absolutely love that he found someone like Frankie who showes him it's okay to be who he is. Steve deserves that. 💗

Loved the sightseeing scene, they are so cute together and idiots for not seeing what everyone else is seeing lmao. 💗

I love that Frankie is now officially part of the gang. She fits in so well. 💗 I got kinda sad that she even had to ask Steve, just showes how lonely she feels. 💔😭

Again everyone noticing that they love each other besides them. They are idiots lmao 😅😭💗

Sidenote: every time I see the mention of Ferris Bueller, the Joe Keery Dominos commercial comes to my mind lmao. 😭💗 Also I'm like Frankie, haven't seen the movie yet 😭

Before I go into the last part, I just need to say I support the theory of Frankie being the inventor of wired earbuds. Like this is canon to me, sorry to the OG inventor lmao. 😭💗

The last part was really heavy. I can emphasize with Frankie a lot. It really hurt to see her in such a vulnerable state. 😭💔 I really felt that part with her friends. Lost a few myself for similar reasons. So I get it, especially feeling so lonely but also scared to let someone new in. 😭

I'm so happy she found Steve. They are so good to each other. They can be vulnerable with each other, they can relate, and they protect each other. It's just nice to see that they are less alone together. 💗

Steve having the worst timing with his realization, is also just peak character for him. I'm glad he kept it to himself in that moment. 😭💗

I can't wait for the next part, especially now that we have a Steve realization. Honestly, they are such a great match. If Frankie was canon, I would totally ship her with Steve. 💗

Also can't wait to see the shenanigans the gang gets into when Eddie and Dustin move in. There will be a lot of bickering and banter, I already love it. 💗

Thank you again for writing this series for us and creating such a great character in Frankie. I absolutely adore her. She's my new best friend lol. 💗

accident prone

part four - hold me in the dark

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato (fem!OC)

Summary: The bond between Steve and Frankie continues to grow, alongside a poorly hidden secret. Despite it all, the two continue to find the sunshine breaking through clouds they force apart.

WC: 10k+

Includes: a whole lot of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, language, disability, fibromyalgia, lupus, discussion of medical trauma, treatments, flare ups, caretaking, bad flirting and more friends to lovers nonsense, more blooming friendships!! (apologies if i miss anything, I’ll add if necessary!) basically, this one’s heavy, take caution before reading.

series playlist ⋮ masterlist

the end - halsey

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺

“if you knew it was the end of the world / could you love me like a child? / could you hold me in the dark? if you knew it was the end of the world / would you like to stay a while? / would you leave when it gets hard?”

A/N: thank you to anyone who has stuck with this series. I cannot express how much that means to me, even if it’s only a handful of y’all still here. originally, this part was 11k, then I split it to balance some scenes out, but it still ended up at 10k anyway. I wanted to explore with Frankie’s past, how her and Steve grow closer, and how she fits in with everyone. apologies to anyone I told this would be the happy, fluffy part 😭 it’ll be part 5, promise. it’s been cathartic to write this. I hope you still enjoy this if you read <3

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It’s been one month—give or take— since Steve opened up to Frankie about everything regarding his past. The more they trust one another, the harder it gets for Steve to push his feelings aside.

Steve’s never done aqua therapy before, but the mere thought of not having to feel pressure on his joints for a few hours a week had him elated.

The running theme of water aerobics, and any sort of therapeutic aqua activity, is that the popularity lies among elderly folks. So what a pleasant surprise it was for him to walk into the physical therapy center’s pool, eyes landing on Frankie among a bunch of older folks.

What a fucking relief.

Steve, who once had no concern showing off his body while swimming, covers himself in an old t-shirt with his swim trunks, hiding the worst of his scars. He notices the one piece Frankie wears, with the shorts nearly reaching her knees, t-shirt draped over her figure; the cotton weighed down with water exposes her shoulder a bit. He catches a glimpse of a blotchy, mottled pattern; his lingering stare is one second too long, hinting to her to cover the exposed spot, and she does.

“Steve!” She waves excitedly from the pool at him, losing grip of the foam weight in her other hand; it bounces out of the water, splashing her face. She frowns comically as she giggles, while a chuckle rises out of Steve, too.

“Hey, Frankie,” Making his way to the bench near her end of the pool, he’s rubbing the back of his neck, another one of his nervous habits; he shoots a half-smile her way. “Didn’t realize we were scheduled at the same time.”

About to respond, Frankie’s cut off by one of the elderly women swimming up beside her. “Francesca, I didn’t know your boyfriend would be here!”

Her face flushes red, eyes wide as saucers, “Wh— Louise! He’s not—“

“She—“ Steve shakes his head and hands in front of him, “We’re just friends.” He has to refrain from wincing at his and Frankie’s words.

That stings to say out loud.

Louise hums, amused. “Mhm, and Percy’s just my friend, too.” She smiles with kind, knowing eyes at Frankie, cheeks round as she chuckles. Then she looks over to Steve and winks as she swims away. “You kids have fun!”

“Louise, it’s physical therapy,” Frankie quips, hands on her hips as she narrows her eyes at the older woman. “You need to get out more if you think this is fun.”

“Can’t! The polka club’s closed for renovations!” She cackles before joining her group on the far side of the pool. Frankie turns back to Steve with a cherry red blush sweeping across her face, matching his own embarrassment, visible in his bright red cheeks.

“I can’t even be mad,” She rolls her eyes with a growing grin. “She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

Almost laughing, Steve catches her peculiar wording. “If?”

Frankie’s face drops, mouth opening to explain, but Steve’s physical therapist comes over, introducing himself before leading Steve to the other end of the pool, where the water treadmill is. He glances back at Frankie, trying to convey through his stare that this isn’t something he’s letting slide.

“Francesca! Jets are open if you want to use ‘em,” Louise breaks her thoughts, and as thrilled as she would be to use the massage jets after a round of PT, they just had to place them right next to the water treadmill.

Reluctantly, she swims over to the wall with the jets, avoiding eye contact with Steve, only feet away. He, on the other hand, won’t take his eyes off her.

There’s a murmur between Frankie and Louise, leaving Frankie cherry red under her freckles all over again as she swims off once more. Rolling her eyes, Frankie turns the jets on, but the pressure comes out heavy and rapid; Louise being the powerhouse of an elderly woman she is, forgot to turn down the settings for the younger woman.

“Jesus Christ, Louise,” Gripping the wall, she winces as the force of water nearly pushes her over, giggling through the pain. She turns the settings down, playfully glaring at the older woman as she gets out. “Always has to have the jets on full blast.”

To someone healthy and fit, the pressure of the massage jets wouldn’t be an issue, but Steve knows how it feels to ache on a bad day, just from wearing certain clothes. Clearly, the pressure’s enough to bother her.

��Sorry, kiddo!” Louise grimaces as she apologizes, wrapping herself in a towel twice her size, perching on a bench nearby.

“It’s fi—“ Frankie sucks in a sharp breath as she tries using the jets again, eyes scrunching shut as her body tenses up. Even on the lowest setting, the pressure is almost unbearable. Steve’s never seen her react like this to anything uncomfortable.

“‘Key, you alright?” Screw the water treadmill, he can’t take seeing her in pain; he swims off and makes his way over to her. “Hey, look at me,” Steve tries leading Frankie away from the rush of water, hands slipping into hers as gently as possible.

“Yeah, m’fine,” She croaks out with her eyes still shut, throat tight as she fights back tears. “Just need to get out.”

“Here, let me h—“

“N- no, it’s good, you should finish your session,” She slips out of his grasp, wading through the water to the steps. “I overdid it today, s’all.”

Steve’s left in the water alone, while Frankie cautiously navigates her way to the bench holding her towel; Louise shuffles over to help the younger woman, leading her to the locker room. Glancing back at Steve, she nods with a reassuring look that Frankie’s in good hands. He figures as much from the little interaction he witnessed between the two, but it’s not much easier jumping back into physical therapy with worry clouding his mind.

Still, he tries his best to continue his session without letting new anxieties eat away at his mind. He tries his best to stay focused, make it through the next hour. He tries his best to believe if something was wrong, Frankie wouldn’t hide it from him.

That’s all Steve can do— try, try, try.

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Since PT, Steve hasn’t heard from Frankie. It had only been a day, and today, he had off because of a follow-up appointment he had scheduled. He tried calling the night before, but never got an answer. It’s hard not to panic, not to assume the worst, especially after the comment she let slip without explanation.

“She’s literally me if I reach that age.”

If. If. If.

The word bounced around in his brain since the passing comment was made; what did she mean by ‘if’?

“Steve?”

Snapping back to reality, he jerks his head up to find Dr. Amato glancing at him with concern.

“So- sorry. What was your question?”

“How did physical therapy go?”

Does he know what happened to Frankie? Should I say something? No. That’s not what he asked. Don’t get distracted.

“It was… alright.” His stare falls to the floor, rolling his ankles in circles as his legs hang off the exam table he sits on.

Dr. Amato crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “Just alright?”

“No— I mean— it was good, just not…” He trails off, conflicted on what to say. He wants to tell the doctor he liked the concept of aqua therapy, that he wants to continue it, and from the little bit he could focus on, he thinks it could help. But there’s no way of mentioning that without mentioning Frankie. He settles on, “It was good.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Would you want to continue sessions?”

Steve nods, trying to push his concern for Frankie to the back of his mind. “Yeah. S’kinda nice not having to worry about pressure on my joints for an hour a week,” He laughs weakly. It’s not a lie, he really does like that part of PT.

“How comfortable are you with multiple sessions a week? Or do you want to keep it at one per week?”

As great as the water felt on his joints, the exercises kicked his ass; he’d be worn out more often than not if he did PT more than once a week. “Maybe one, until I get used to it? Is that… can we do that?”

“Kid, you know your body better than anyone else would,” The doctor doesn’t sound condescending, it’s something he stands by firmly. “We can start with sessions once a week, but if and when you decide you’re ready, we can add more as necessary. That sound good?”

Heavy concerns on his mind aside, it’s still so refreshing to have a doctor that not only cares, but believes him, too.

“Absolutely,” He gives the doctor a weak smile, but it’s genuine, at least.

Dr. Amato finishes writing in Steve’s chart. “Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”

Steve shakes his head, “No, I think we covered everything”. Even though it’s his second time here, he feels so at ease to open up about his health ailments without fear of judgement.

The doctor clears his throat, closing Steve’s file, chair creaking as he leans back. “Steve, off the record, can I ask something? You don’t have to talk about this either if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Uh, n- no— I mean yeah! Yes.”

Dr. Amato sighs, crossing his arms again. “I’m asking this as Frankie’s father, not as a medical professional: how has she been doing, really?”

Eyes widening, Steve’s mind spins. What does he mean by that?

“Is— is this about the physical therapy thing?”

“The wh— oh, boy. I wasn’t even aware of anything happening there,” He runs a hand down his face, reminding Steve of Hopper. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, you’re both adults. But I figured I’d ask you noticed anything… different lately, since you’re friends, and co-workers.”

Steve’s brows furrow, fidgeting with the edges of his sweatshirt’s sleeves. “I- I’m not sure what that means.”

“To put it bluntly, I believe she’s experiencing a pretty intense flare-up, but she refuses to tell me. I know asking you is strange, and again, no pressure to confide in me about anything, but you’re the closest person to Francesca these days.”

Me? What about her other friends?

Then it dawns on Steve; she never talks about other friends. Does Frankie have anyone in her life outside of Steve, or her father? What about Rhi and Cade?

From what Frankie has told Steve, he knows she trusts her dad. She has a good relationship with him, but also worries about him. Maybe that’s why he’s left in the dark on something occurring, but Steve is, too. If it’s for her well being, he’ll discuss the little he knows, or witnessed.

“Only thing I’ve noticed was what happened yesterday. She was in a lot of pain… more than usual. The— those massage jets in the pool, they hurt her, and—“ He can feel empathy weighing heavy on his heart for her as he recalls the moment. “I… if I’m being honest, I’ve never seen her in that much pain. At least she’s never shown it that visibly before.”

Dr. Amato sighs heavily as he nods, and Steve hopes he hasn’t said too much.

“I hate asking this of you, Steve, because you’ve got your own chronic illness to worry about, but would you mind checking in with her when you can? Not asking you to snitch, or anything,” He gives his own uneasy, nervous laugh. “But if anything of… concern comes up, I—“ He shakes his head, gathering his files, giving Steve a somber look. “It’s her story to tell, not mine. Just don’t be afraid to push her to get help, if she needs. Please. I feel you’ll have an easier time convincing her than I would.”

This isn’t a parent pushing their responsibilities to care for their child, even as a full grown adult, off onto someone else; this is a single parent, probably neck deep in work, running out of options to get his only child to be honest about just how severe things have become. He lost his wife, Frankie’s mother, to a sickness not even treatment could save her from. He must be terrified of even the possibility to watch that replay with his own daughter.

Steve also cares about Frankie, really, really cares deeply about her, so it’s a no-brainer response.

“Absolutely, Dr. Amato. I- I’d do—“ Steve, don’t say it. Don’t get emotional. “I’d do anything if it meant keeping Frankie safe.”

Goddammit, why can’t you shut your mouth for once?

Dr. Amato stands, towering over Steve, concern still written all over his face, but a flicker of hope and some kind of ease, too. “I know, Steve. She probably won’t tell you, but the friendship you two have is one of the best things to happen to her in a long while.” He shakes Steve’s hand, which Steve finds out of place in a conversation like this, but assumes the doctor is just taking the professional route. “Thanks, kid. I’ll see you in a month for a follow up, but don’t hesitate to call if you need.”

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The following day, Steve was surprised to find Frankie so upbeat when he entered the record shop. She’s sweeping along the tiled floor, singing along to the music pumping through the speakers, a little off key, but it brings a smile to Steve’s face to see her doing better today.

At least, that’s how it seems.

She’s bopping her head along, dancing lazily, sometimes humming along to the words she doesn’t know; she’s lost in whatever song fills the shop, with a distracted smile on her face.

“In my darkest dreams I see, you’re much closer now to me. I have got you in my hair, I can feel you ‘round me everywhere.”

Steve’s mesmerized by the pure joy she’s radiating, completely enveloped in her own little world, unaware the door’s bell chimed out, or that he’s just standing there, unable to tear his eyes away. In fact, when she spins around, she’s immediately startled at the sight of Steve, dropping the broom as she yelps.

“Christ, Steve, you can’t sneak up on me like that!” She clutches her chest, heart about to beat out of her chest, only to dissolve into a fit of giggles. He smiles apologetically with a shrug. “Hope you didn’t hear too much of my bad singing.”

“Who cares— you should hear me singing along to whatever’s on the radio on road trips,” He hands Frankie her coffee; it’s his day to grab their orders. He loves this small routine they’ve fallen into, but today was one of the many lately where Cade and Rhi tease the hell out of him for not telling Frankie how he feels. Seriously? Does everyone know except her? He shakes the thoughts from his mind, focusing back on her. “Usually Robin’s ready to kick me out of the moving car, and I’m the one always driving.”

Frankie pauses mid-sip of her peculiar yet regular iced coffee order, snorting over Steve’s words.

“Just wait ‘til we drive somewhere for awhile, I think you’ll get sick of me real quick. If I’m not singing obnoxiously, I’ll talk your ear off.”

I’d never get sick of that, or you.

She’s just joking along, but Steve finds himself shaking his head, softly replying, “No way. I- I’d like it.” A gentle smile floats across his face, followed by a deep blush, stammering to explain, “Y’know, I- like— if we took a trip somewhere— together— I mean, duh, together, you said that, it’s—“ Jesus, Steve. Shut. Up.

Frankie’s smirking at him. “I’d like that too.” She sets her coffee down on the nearest surface, bending down to pick the broom back up. Any happiness visible vanishes in an instant as she tries to get back up, not making it very far; the broom slips from her grasp as her legs give out, sending her crashing to the floor. Thankfully, it was a short fall, but she curses under her breath, face twisting up in the same discomfort Steve witnessed days ago.

He sets his stuff aside, dropping to the floor. “Shit. You okay? Here,” He holds his hands out, but she swats them away; he wasn’t expecting that, leaving him stunned.

“I can do it. M’fine,” She huffs, looking away, embarrassed.

“‘Key, I’m not saying you can’t—“

“It’s okay, really. I- I’m fine.” She takes her time getting back on her feet, grabbing onto a nearby sturdy shelf of CDs to lift herself back up. “See? I’m okay.”

He can’t just drop this, though. “Why won’t you let me help you, the way you help me?”

Frankie’s mouth opens to respond, but not a word comes out. There’s not much of a chance for any response anyway, not when the door’s chime sets off again. The pair turn to find Robin, Eddie and Dustin entering with big smiles on their faces.

“Okay, surprising you here might be way better than a hospital,” Dustin snorts.

Eddie, has no greeting, eyes going wide at the new surroundings, whispering, “Holy shit.”

“They insisted on coming here to see you two,” Robin shrugs, smirking. “I was practically held up at gunpoint. By Dustin.”

“Whoa, not cool, I’ve never once owned anything dangerous like that.”

“No, but you did wield that long electric prod that you practically stabbed that evil doctor with—“

“To save your lives!”

Steve sighs, rolling his eyes, before turning to Frankie with a hint of a smile, “Here we fuckin’ go again.” It earns a giggle out of her. If there’s anything she’ll allow him to do to make her feel better, at the very least, he’s happy he can make her laugh. Still, low enough for only her to hear, he murmurs, “I- I wanna talk about all of this later. Just you and me. Okay?”

Frankie huffs out of her nose, but her body relaxes, relenting on the defensive front she wants to hide behind. “Okay. M’sorry.”

Steve grabs her hand quick, squeezing it, “Hey, don’t be sorry. You’ve got a lot going on. S’all gonna be okay, I promise.”

“So… can I live here?” Eddie asks in a dreamy state, drinking in every little detail of the indie record shop. “This place is so fucking cool.”

Steve releases Frankie’s hand, noticing the way Robin eyes the two of them curiously. He narrows his eyes at her, and she whistles, wandering away.

“Eddie, there’s a record store across the street from our place,” Dustin laughs, but Eddie shakes his head animatedly.

“Yeah, but it went all corporate, and shit. The world needs more hidden gems like this,” He throws his arms out, spinning around in a circle. “Not another fuckin’ Sam Goody.”

“Hey, they have good deals sometimes!” Robin argues, but Eddie flips her off, wandering to a section with guitar strings and picks.

“You guys should just move to the city at this point, with all the trips you’re taking,” Steve’s mostly teasing, but Dustin can’t hide the shit-eating grin growing on his face.

“Funny you mention that…”

“Wait— wait, really? Henderson, I swear to god if you’re fucking with me—“

This catches Eddie’s attention, and he zips back over to the group, hands animatedly flowing as he explains, “So, okay, funny story, somehow my uncle, and his mom managed to get into some weird, long distance relationship—“

“It’s really just yearning like they’re in some gothic romance novel, writing letters to one another and shit,” Robin cuts in, snickering.

“Which would build to something, like all relationships do eventually, Buckley!” Eddie quips, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “Anyway, long story short, he wants to head to Florida, move in with her. Our lease ends in a month, and, I shit you not, Steven—“

“Don’t call me that, man.”

“… Big boy?”

“Not that either!”

Frankie, all the while, is back in a fit of giggles behind Steve; it brings a small smile to his face, one only the other three can see.

“The apartment across the hall from yours? Available. Well, it was.”

“Basically, surprise! We’re neighbors now. Well. We’re gonna be neighbors,” Dustin’s grin grows even wider, as if that was even possible. “

Steve’s heart swells with joy; he can’t believe his other best friends are moving here. Here, in the city, but also right next door. After being apart for years, aside from trips here and there to visit on another, he can’t believe they’ll all be together again. It feels right. Familiar.

The family he found, the one that’s given him more than his family by blood ever had, ever will, will be together again. At least, partially. He misses everyone that’s moved to California. Hell, he even misses, Jonathan and Nancy, still out in New York City. But this news, his two best friends moving here, makes coping with the major changes and trauma left behind a little easier.

And he loves Robin, she’s his number one, as he is her’s, but he’s been worried he holds her back sometimes. For a while, Robin was the only friend he had out here. She gave up a lot of nights out with new friends, dates with women she’d never meet back in a small town like Hawkins, to be there for her best friend. She doesn’t regret it, and he’s thankful for any moments she’s been there for him, but the guilt has always lied underneath it all. Robin never once said or sought out to make him feel like a burden, but it was still on Steve’s mind.

Then, Frankie came along, not only a new friend, but a friend who understood him on a level no one else has or could currently. Not firsthand, at least. And sure, Eddie had his health issues, had to use mobility aids when he was recovering, and he and Steve bonded over that for a bit, but aside from the PTSD they all have— still crippling in its own ways— he’s surprisingly healed enough to not have chronic pain. Not like Steve still has.

Frankie opened Steve’s eyes to a world where he can exist, sick but unapologetic. Trying his best, but not punching himself down for what’s out of his control. He could be disabled and happy; the two absolutely can co-exist.

It all feels like things are finally falling into place for Steve; it feels like he’s finally sighing a breath he’s held for five years. Maybe, just maybe, he can enjoy life again without dreading what’s yet to come, or feeling guilty for simply existing. Whatever’s bound to happen in the future, good or bad, he’s surrounded by his closest friends, his family.

Whatever the future brings for Steve, he can handle it now.

“You can play D&D with us again!” Dustin exclaims, fist pumping into the air.

Okay, except that.

Steve’s face reddens, eyes shifting between his friends and Frankie, laughing it off sheepishly. “Whoa, wait, I played like, three times at most—“

“Hey, man, don’t try saving face just ‘cause Frankie’s here.” Eddie smirks, eyes darting over to Frankie who looks confused. “You’re still a nerd like the rest of us.”

“I— shut up—“

“You guys play?” Everyone turns to Frankie, dead silent, and she stammers, feeling like she’s on the spot now. “I- I- used to, in school— well, when I wasn’t missing school and seeing friends ‘cause I was sick a lot, but…” She trails off with a shrug.

“See, even Frankie’s a nerd!” Dustin throws his hand out towards her, making her laugh, but he still elaborates, “That’s a compliment, I promise.”

“So why are you—“ She pokes Steve’s arm, “So offended by being called a nerd?”

“I— I’m not—“

All three of his friends respond at once:

Dustin with a deadpan, “Oh, he absolutely is offended by that, still.”

“It’s the ‘King Steve’ complex that’s still stuck like old bubblegum, probably,” Eddie jokes slyly.

“He’s in denial, more than I was when I was in the closet.” Robin taunts, laughing at her own remark.

“Wait, hang on, that’s fucked up, Rob.” Steve can’t help but laugh despite his words.

“I’m just being honest!”

“Hold on, back up, what’s this ‘King Steve’ shit?” Frankie’s so amused as the shade of embarrassment across Steve’s face spreads to his neck, only growing deeper.

“Oh, it’s— let’s not—“ He tries shrugging it off with a ‘pffffttt’ noise and a nervous laugh. “I told you before, I- I was… not the greatest person in high school.”

“He was a dick,” Dustin bluntly points out, and Steve shoots him a glare.

“Never expected to ever become best friends with him before everything happened at Starcourt,” Robin’s honesty makes Steve shake his head. “That’s not a bad thing, dingus. Just a wild plot twist!”

“Big boy over here hated me,” Steve’s ready to fight Eddie as he speaks the truth. “If it weren’t for Dustin, he’d probably still hate me.”

“Or, you probably would’ve stabbed my neck with that fucking broken beer bottle first.”

“Whoa, man. Thought that water was under the bridge.”

“I’m just saying!”

Dustin turns to Frankie, paying no mind his two older brother figures. “Ignore those children,” She giggles while they both glare at her, then Dustin. “I wanna know what touristy things we should do before we move here.”

“We are not children! You’re the infant, Dusty Bun,” Eddie snaps back with a grin.

“Only Suzie can call me that, and you know it!”

“Well, I—“ Frankie holds her hand up to Eddie, and his jaw drops. “Are you telling me to talk to the hand?” He pulls out the dramatics, clutching his chest. “Frankie... How could you?”

“Anyway, I got lots of fun suggestions!” She turns from Dustin, eyes darting between Eddie and Steve. “No children allowed, though.”

Robin, meanwhile, is cracking up during all of this.

“What if we kiss and make up?” Eddie cracks while he waggles his brows at Steve, who rolls his eyes and reels back.

“Eddie, man, get the hell away from me.”

He simply shrugs, “Your loss.”

Dustin throws his hands up, blocking the two of them out of his sight. “Can we ditch them? I wanna ditch them.”

Steve scoffs, “You little shit—“

His one hand balls up, poking his middle finger at the two of them, attention still on Frankie.

“Actually… there is something I still haven’t tried yet,” Frankie mentions, shyness pouring out suddenly, almost worried of rejection. “If you guys are up for it, that is.”

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Everything’s surreal up this high from the Sears Tower, and Steve? Oddly enough, for how cautious and anxious of a person he has become, he loves this. There’s something that puts him at ease being above the city’s grid and all the chaos and routine running through it.

But Frankie? The idea in theory sounded exciting, but now that they’re all up here…

“Oh… no, it’s— “ She eyes the window behind Steve, freezing in her tracks feet away. Tensing up, she’s nervously babbling, “I’m— you enjoy it, I’m good right here— safe— I- I’m safe here.”

Frankie keeps her distance from the window, leaning onto her cane and fidgeting with the wrist strap. She’s afraid to peer over the edge of the railing, despite the thick glass, terrified of the height they’re at.

Steve turns back around, holding his hand out to her. “C’mon, I got you.”

“Yeah but what if there’s, like, a freak accident and the glass breaks and I fall? And you’d fall, too. If we died ‘cause of me, I’d never forgive myself.”

It sounds absolutely absurd, and Frankie expects Steve to poke fun at her, but he only continues holding out his hand toward her.

“Frankie.” He gives a reassuring smile, only to crack, “You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you’re dead.”

“Steve, that’s not helping!” She laughs a little, but she’s frozen in place. Steve steps closer, hand still extended toward her.

“You’re safe, I promise.” Steve doesn’t want to push Frankie if she’s truly uncomfortable, but she’s been excitedly talking about the observation deck all day, and would hate to see her miss out on the view. “Like you told me, you won’t let anything hurt me, so I won’t let anything hurt you. I swear.”

With a trembling hand, she grasps onto his, letting Steve guide her over to the railing. She takes a deep breath as he stands behind her, glancing down toward the city’s aerial view for just a second. Eyes widening, she spins around to walk off, but bumps directly into him instead with an “oof!”.

“Nope, not so fast,” He grabs her shoulders, slowly turning her back around to stay at the window. Steve stands behind her, hands lazily gripping the railing as his arms cage her in. He leans down to her ear, murmuring, “You’re always safe with me.”

Frankie sets her cane against the railing, hands slowly sliding over his, fear-fueled trembling beginning to slow. She mutters more to herself, in reassurance, but Steve still hears it, “Safe with you.”

Off in the distance, boats sail along the green-blue hue of the lake, while the sunshine’s reflection glitters along the surface. Standing alongside the buildings feels strange, and the view of the cars and people and trains from up here just make them look like toys. There’s not a cloud in the sky today, but Frankie’s sure if there were any, they’d be close enough to reach out and touch.

A few feet away, they hear Dustin say the timeless, “I can see my house from here!” joke. They both burst into snorts and giggles, with Steve glancing over to the kid— Dustin’s always going to be a kid to him— he’s considered a younger brother for so long now, watching the way he enthusiastically smushes his face against the glass.

“What house? He’s literally looking out at the lake,” Steve stifles a laugh, shaking his head, as Frankie takes a quick glance over, snorting. Eddie and Robin are pressed against the glass now, searching for whatever the hell Dustin’s pointing at. They’re standing on the railing, squishing only their faces against the windows.

Her brows crinkle, head tilting with curiosity. “Why are they pressed against the glass like that?”

Steve follows her stare, then returns to her with a knowing smile, “You know that scene in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off?”

Frankie shifts to face Steve, totally lost as her eyes meet his. “…. No.”

“Wh— are you kidding me?”

“I’ve never seen it…”

“First you tell me you’ve lived here your whole life, and never came up here until today, and now you’re telling me you’ve never seen that movie?!” She just shakes her head, smiling with a cringe. “Wanna watch it later? But only if you’re up for it, though. If you’re not feeling well, you should rest— are you feeling okay now? Shit, I should’ve asked before we got here—“

“Steve.” Frankie’s hands slip entirely away from his as she turns completely, leaning against the railing to look up at him. She’s so close, so close to him, it’d be practically effortless to lean in and kiss her.

Christ, stop thinking about that. We’re friends. Just that. Only that. Nothing else. Friends.

“I’m good aside from the fatigue, but I’m really glad we’re here, even if it’s a little scary.” She gives a nervous, soft chuckle, eyes landing on his lips, lingering for a second too long. Her eyes screw shut, nodding, “B- but I’d— yeah, I’d like that. I can’t promise I’d stay awake though.”

Now Steve’s mirroring Frankie, gaze falling to her lips, plush and pretty in the warm, soft smile she defaults to often. He sucks in a breath, forcing himself to bring his eyes back to meet her own.

“Yeah, that’s…” Steve, focus. “That’s fine. Maybe it’s better to hang at your place then, in case you need to rest. I- if that’s okay with you, of course.”

She hums in agreement, turning back to the window. Her hands slide back over his, “I’d like that a lot. All of us, right?”

While he was hoping for some alone time, it makes him happy to know she’s comfortable around his friends. Her friends, too. She glances back over to the other three, a smile pulling wider across her features as she watches them laugh and joke about god knows what.

“Your friends are fun to be around.” Frankie’s staring out to the skyscrapers nearby, gradually shrinking closer and closer to the ground the farther she looks out. Her thumbs sweep across the backs of Steve’s hands subconsciously; they still tremble a little, but the contact of her hands on his keeps her grounded. “Thank you for always including me.”

“They’re your friends too, y’know.”

“Oh I— I didn’t want to assume—“

Steve shakes his head, even though she can’t see. “You’re a part of this little, weird… whatever the hell kind of friend group we’ve got going on here.” He chuckles, “Unless it’s too weird for you, then I totally get it.”

Frankie tilts her head up and back, trying to look at Steve, grinning, “Yeah, ‘cause I’m the definition of normal.”

The way her eyes crinkle in her smile, nose scrunching as she teases, all Steve wants to do is lean down and kiss her, even if the angle is awkward.

Quit thinking about kissing her, don’t make it weird.

It’s such a strange, grey space to float in; they’re so comfortable around one another, with touches that aren’t fleeting anymore, they linger. They’ve been flirting, mostly teasing one another, displaying little acts of affection that stick with Steve for days— but nothing has come from it. Nothing more, at least.

Even if he and Frankie were stuck in this cycle of friends with a hint of more, he’d be happy. He longs for more, but he’s just grateful to know her, bonded together by unique circumstances. By now, Steve’s learned not to depend on one person for happiness, but is it such a crime to naturally feel elated by someone’s presence, and how well they flow with you?

“S’pretty from up here.”

“See? Not so scary, huh?”

She shakes her head and speaks faintly, it’s barely even a whisper, “Not with you.” Making the move first, she spreads his fingers apart with her own, lacing them together while still resting her palms against the backs of his hands.

There’s something. This has to be something.

Steve doesn’t think, doesn’t hesitate before he gently kisses the top of her head.

Frankie’s blushing wildly, though he can’t see, and feigning disgust through a scoff, “Gross, Steve.” She giggles as she squeezes his hands, while he scoffs a laugh.

“I’ll remember that, Amato.”

“Shh, Steve, shut up, I’m busy sightseeing” She’s shaking as she tries holding back more laughter, pointing to the lake. “Oh! I can see my house from here!”

“See!” Dustin shouts. “Frankie gets it!”

Yeah, ‘Key, you fit right in.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

Frankie finally watches Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, and giggles throughout the entire movie, sharing a loveseat with Steve. The two inch closer to one another over time, and halfway through the second movie, Poltergeist, she’s hiding her eyes behind her fingers. Steve teasingly pulls her hands from her face, so she ducks her head into his chest.

“We can turn it off if you want,” He whispers to her, but she shakes her head.

“No, I love horror movies, m’just a big wimp,” She rolls her eyes at herself, despite Steve barely being able to see it.

“Think you might’ve picked this one just to have an excuse to cuddle,” He bravely teases, hoping it’s not a touch too far. Relief floods through him as she snuggles into him even more.

She tilts her head up and glares back at him playfully. “Maybe… maybe not.”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Eddie hisses from the couch he’s sprawled out on. “Can you two lovebirds shut up?”

Both Frankie and Steve sit up with defenses, “We’re not like that—“ and “He’s— we’re friends!”

“Yeah, and I’m straight,” Robin mutters from the floor, earning a cackle from Dustin over in the recliner.

Sighing in annoyance, Steve lays back down, pulling Frankie with him as her face turns red. Embarrassment and irritation flows between the two of them. Their friends mean well, really, they do; it’s just lighthearted teasing. Yet it still tugs at the reminder for Steve to not get caught up in feelings that won’t be reciprocated.

Yawning, Frankie wraps her arms around Steve’s waist, face resting and squishing up against his chest to watch the movie, but it’s not long before she’s fast asleep.

This isn’t new, not Frankie falling asleep on, or near Steve, at least. It hasn’t happened in front of his friends, though, and his interest in the movie is long gone, now focusing it all on the girl he’s been falling terribly hard for.

As Steve plays with Frankie’s hair gently, sinking into the pillows so, so carefully, trying to get comfortable without waking her, attentive to any faint noises she makes in her sleep, worried she’s going to wake up in more pain— he has no clue his friends are watching him.

Robin notices first, catching in the corner of her eye the awkward way Steve shifts against the cushions, throwing his legs over the armrest, holding Frankie close to him. She snores once, so softly, but it makes Steve smile. His fingers run up and down her spine, slowly, gently, ghosting their touch along her back in patterned caresses. His own eyes begin to grow heavy, and he fights sleep a few times, only to drift off regardless; one hand is woven in her hair, his other arm wrapped snug around her waist, keeping her secure against his own body.

Turning back to the others, Robin finds Dustin and Eddie admiring the two of them together, too.

“We should probably head out,” Dustin whispers as the older two nod.

They collect their things, let the tape play through, quietly slinking out of Frankie’s apartment. On the way out, Robin sticks a note on Steve’s forehead, holding back a snicker as he scrunches his face up in his sleep.

Eddie quietly closes the door behind them, glancing up at Robin and Dustin once the door clicks shut.

“I know you guys have been friends with him longer, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so… comfortable with someone else.”

They make their way out of the building, with Robin agreeing, “Yeah, neither have I. Haven’t seen him this content with anyone in years.”

“Not even with Nancy, honestly,” Dustin adds.

There’s a silence that falls over them as they head down the sidewalk. They’re all thinking the same thing, but Eddie still has to ask.

“Do you think he—“

“Yeah, he totally does,” Robin cuts Eddie off.

Dustin just smiles knowingly. He’s called it, they all have from the start. Steve’s the last to know, the last to figure it out, like always, but he’ll get there. He always does.

This time, though, when Steve falls, Frankie will be there to catch him. They just know it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

A few days later, Steve comes into the shop, enjoying the warmth of another beautiful spring morning; he makes his way through the quiet, dark store while sunlight’s beginning to peek through the windows, spilling across the rows of records.

I could’ve sworn Frankie said she’s opening today, he wonders if he read his calendar wrong. The faint sound of weeping that floats out of the dark break room shoves that thought aside.

True to his personality, Steve rushes in, panicked and ready to protect his friend from whatever has her upset. Frankie’s on the worn, beat up couch, head in her hands as she folds forward to her knees. The lights are off in the room, and he wonders if that was intentional.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” He drops his stuff on the floor, sliding onto the couch next to her. He’s ready to throw a comforting arm around her, but pauses, just to double check, “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Frankie sits up, quick to wipe her tears away. “I- I’m fine. It’s all good.” Her voice wavers, betraying her words. She won’t look at him, but she looks exhausted from what Steve can observe. Her bottom lip trembles, so she curls it inward, but her eyes crinkle at the edges as tears taunt her, ready to fall all over again.

“You’re not good,” Steve holds out an arm, signaling her to sink into his embrace, if it helps. She does, because it does help. She leans into him, and the tears start all over again. “You told me I had to be honest about what hurts me, I need you to be honest about your pain, too.”

“S’just a flare up.”

“Flare ups can be a big deal, ‘Key.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be a big deal!” Steve can empathize with her stubbornness; it’s so disheartening to do well for some time, just to crash into a flare up once again. It’s a constant, cruel reminder you’ll never be healthy. You’ll never get better. “I wish you’d drop it, Steve. I- I know you care, but I’m fine.”

It must be bad enough if she’s in denial like this.

Steve’s been doing what he can to learn more about lupus, to help comfort Frankie where he can in times like this; life has been hell for him with fibromyalgia alone, he can’t begin to imagine the pain and suffering Frankie feels with lupus. She carries herself so well most days, carefree and spirited, always smiling and cracking corny jokes or shooting off her sarcasm, while carrying love for everyone and everything good in her life.

If it weren’t for the tell-tale signs of a flare up, or using a mobility aid, one would never guess she’s sick from a quick glance, or brief interaction.

“What if I take over today? You can go home and rest—“

“No,” Her voice is firm, bitter, and doesn’t match her current appearance at all. Her ruined makeup has dried in streaks running down her face. Steve frowns, realizing she’s not herself at all.

“No?”

She sits up, eyes heavy with fatigue, and Steve notices the faint butterfly rash spreading rosy red across her features. Tenderly, the back of his hand rests against her forehead, eyes widening at the sudden temperature change.

“Jesus Christ, ‘Key, you’re burning up.”

“I know m’hot, don’t gotta tell me,” She jokes with a weak smile, if even existent at all. The faint smile flips into a frown with ease. “Steve, I never got your coffee— fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry.”

While alternating days of ordering each other’s coffees became a pleasant routine for Steve, it’s the last of his concerns right now, though.

“It’s just coffee, that’s not a big…” Bloodshot, glassy orbs glance back at him, breaking his heart. Hands cupping her own, he gives a gentle squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay, ‘Key. Seriously. Please don’t beat yourself up over that.” The fever’s getting to her— hell, this entire flare up probably has her on edge. Steve knows even when he has a cold, everything feels distant mentally; he can only imagine how rough a fever is along with other flare up symptoms.

“But I… I forgot.”

Outside of flare ups, Frankie’s memory is usually sharp as a tack. Now, though, she’s lost in a fog of pain and a hint of delirium.

“Hey, honey, it’s okay,” Steve surprises himself when the endearing term comes out with ease. “Do you still want— shit, wait, you probably shouldn’t have coffee right now— “ He squeezes his eyes shut, stammering, “Fuck, uh— tea? Maybe that’ll help, might be soothing. Would that work?”

“I got some at home, but I’m okay, Steve. I just need a second. B- but I can open today,” She’s up, and only on her feet for a second, reaching out to steady herself on something. Like the very first day they met, Steve acts quickly, catching her as she stumbles. Unlike that day, though, this time is worrying him.

“You’re not okay, and you’re not working today.” Steve’s tone is firm as he helps Frankie sit down safely. He kneels on the floor before her, hand slipping under her chin to lift her gaze up to his. “You’re not riding this fever out on a damn break room couch, either.”

Much to his surprise, she doesn’t argue back. Maybe the fatigue and aching has worn her down to nearly a shell of her usual upbeat, independent self. Defeated, she asks with one word, “Home?”

If cradling one another’s faces with their hands was an Olympic sport, both Frankie and Steve would be tied for gold. Both of his hands hold her face gingerly as he nods.

“Yeah, I’ll take you home.”

“No,” Her head shakes. Wrapping her fingers around his wrists weakly, she asks with bleary eyes, “Come home with me?”

There’s a pang in his heart; the sweetly phrased question is laced in pain and fatigue, and in another timeline, where Frankie and Steve are healthy, it’d be one to send his heart racing with excitement. Instead, it’s broken, tangled in the grief that comes along with yet another flare up.

Yet another reminder one never fully gets better with illnesses like these.

He gives her a pensive smile, “F’course, ‘Key.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“You ever wish you could share your headphones with someone?” Frankie’s peering out her open bedroom window from her bed. She looks so cozy in a loose sweatshirt and gym shorts, nursing a cup of tea Steve made for her. The Tylenol she took seems to be kicking in, which is a relief to Steve; her temperature earlier read 101 degrees, just above being a low grade fever.

There’s a comforting, gentle breeze coming from the window, giving her some relief from overheating.

Steve’s face crinkles with confusion as he laughs. “What?” He’s on the opposite end of her bed, wearing the same pair of sweats she let him use the first time he came over, tea mug sitting empty on the windowsill.

“Yeah… like, when you wanna listen to the same tape with them, or something?”

“… Just use a stereo?”

“Not the same! There’s something intimate about sharing your favorite song with someone in real time, y’know?”

No, he wouldn’t. He’s never been into music enough— nor have his past partners and friends— to think about something sweet like that. Maybe Robin or Eddie would find it fun, but they all have vastly different tastes in music.

“I- I wouldn’t know.”

“Someone should make headphones, but they go inside your ears,” She turns to Steve, golden hour of the day’s sunset gleaming over her worn features. How the hell is she always so beautiful? “Like, little, tiny earplug-like headphones,” She pinches her thumb and index fingers together, holding them by her ear. “And they’d be connected by a wire on each, right? So it’d be so easy to share with someone else. Each person uses one of the earplug-headphone-thingies.”

He teases, “Oh, is that the patented name for it?”

“Yeah! M’gonna invent it. You just wait,” She sets her mug next to Steve’s, sinking under the covers a little further with a sigh, eyes heavy with fatigue. “Then we can share our favorite songs together.”

Shaking his head with a chuckle, Steve’s captivated by the sunlight gleaming along her figure; even covered in blankets and comfy layers, there’s something angelic about the scene of her before him.

“So, we gotta wait ‘til you invent those headphones?” He scoots to her side of the bed, sliding under the covers next to her.

“Earplug-headphone-thingies, Steven,” She corrects him.

“Just because you’re in a flare up doesn’t mean you get to throw my full name around like that.”

“You’re right, it’s unfair if I don’t know your middle name.” She rolls towards him, poking his chest, “Spill it, Harrington.”

“Absolutely not, Francesca.”

“That’s another quarter.”

“Jesus, have some mercy, will ya’?”

“Hm… might spare you if you hold me.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” Despite his teasing, Steve winds his arms around Frankie, bringing her closer. She’s still too warm, but it’s not as intense as earlier, thankfully. He’s just above a whisper as he asks, “How’re you feeling?”

She sighs, tucking her face into his shoulder, “Honestly, I feel terrible.” She falls into silence, long enough that Steve wonders if she fell asleep.

“‘Key?”

“Y’know, the night you told me about everything… with Hawkins, and the Upside Down… when I found you outside, you told me you didn’t want me to see you like that.” Frankie’s on the edge of a mirthless chuckle, “I remember thinking that we’re both sick, we’re bound to see the worst of one another’s illnesses at some point… but now I can’t stop feeling the same as you did— I really never wanted you to see me like this.”

“You’re right, it’s kinda inevitable two sick friends would see each other at their lowest points, but that won’t drive me away.”

“That’s the thing, though. We’re both sick. What happens when our flare ups occur at the same time? Even if you’re not in a flare, you’re still in pain. I feel awful that you’re pushing yourself to take care of me.”

That doesn’t matter when you love someone.

Steve’s grateful Frankie can’t see his face right now, eyes wide as saucers as the truth finally collides with his thoughts he won’t dare to speak aloud. He prays she can’t feel the way his heartbeat practically stops, or how he’s holding his breath, afraid to exhale a confession.

… Oh.

He can’t tell her; even if he wanted to, this isn’t the time right now. So now he has to sit with this revelation in silence, shove it to the farthest corner of his mind. And really, is it even much of a revelation to begin with? He’s known about his feelings toward Frankie for months now, but to effortlessly think about caring for her as an act of love, that’s… that’s new.

How the hell do I tell her without actually telling her?

“You’re always caring for me through your pain, let me do the same for you.” Steve’s fingers run through her hair, ever so gently, afraid he’ll hurt her somehow in such a vulnerable state. “I care about you, Frankie. A lot.”

“That’s what scares me.”

“Huh? What do you mean by that?”

Frankie rolls onto her stomach, crossing her arms in front of her on the pillow before resting her chin on them, eyes refusing to meet Steve’s.

“Five years ago you were leaving behind the worst shit you’ve ever experienced,” She doesn’t give into crying, despite the way her voice wavers and bottom lip wobbles, ever so slightly, in a pout. “Five years ago, I had the worst flare up of my life. I never went through one so intense before that.”

Steve turns to her, arm still draped over her torso lazily. He stays quiet, ready to listen, fingers tracing slow circles on her back.

“Usually, it was joint pain, some mild inflammation in spots, the rash I have on my face now, low grade fevers— common, mild lupus symptoms.” She sounds so worn down, but holds strong. “But the worst flare up went beyond all of that. It just got worse, and worse; I had rashes that turned into sores all over, fatigue made it literally impossible to stay awake, I was losing hair, and I couldn’t walk much without my legs giving out. That alone made me severely depressed, too. Just a constant cycle of bracing myself for the worst, and worrying if it’d ever get better or not.

“The usual meds I took weren’t enough. Nothing was getting better. I woke up one morning and couldn’t physically leave bed, like m- my legs would not move.” She tilts her face into her arms, trying to hide what she can of her face as tears threaten to break. “I was paralyzed, Steve. I’ve never been so fucking scared in my life.”

It’s as if the oxygen was sucked out of the room instantly; Steve feels his heart sink as his breathing hitches in place. He can’t wrap his head around how terrifying that must’ve been for her. How terrifying it’d be for anyone.

“And, y’know, like a stubborn idiot, I tried hiding it from my dad, but that just earned me an ambulance trip and upsetting him more than I was trying to avoid to begin with. I didn’t want him to worry, but that backfired. He still worries so much, and maybe that’s ‘cause he’s— I- I don’t know, it sounds stupid, but I think he’s afraid to lose me the way he lost my mom.”

That would explain why Dr. Amato felt panicked enough to ask Steve to step in and check on Frankie. It explains why she’s so quick to shrug off her own pain.

“It’s not stupid at all, Frankie. He worries because he cares, it’s what parents do.”

Except mine.

Steve shoves that thought away, too; again, not the time. “So… what happened? What caused it? How— sorry, this is gonna sound ignorant, but how are you able to walk now?”

“Damn, Harrington, one question at a time.” She breaks into a faint smile, one that Steve is relieved to catch a glimpse of. “Myelitis. My spinal cord was inflamed, and that causes a whole fuck-ton of problems, like partial or full paralysis. My limbs would go numb sometimes, or tingle like when your foot falls asleep, but I couldn’t shake it off. Made my arms and legs weak, and the pain was a nightmare. I was lucky enough to get treated in time to make a decent recovery, but it’s why I still can’t control my hands sometimes,” She laughs with an eye roll, but it’s bitter and short, “Like when I dropped my damn coffee.”

Steve figures as much, but it comes full circle when he remembers a conversation he and Frankie had the first day they spent together.

“Do you just paint as a hobby?”

“I actually had plans to become a tattoo artist, did an apprenticeship and everything.”

He can still hear the disappointment and grief in her admission of giving up on a dream.

“Can’t really tattoo when you’ve got unpredictable hand tremors, though. S’why the paintings are such a wreck.”

Frankie finally opening up only makes that memory even more gut wrenching to think about.

“Is that why you couldn’t become a tattooist?”

She only nods, balling up the ends of her sleeves in her fists, squeezing the fabric in her palms roughly.

“Took months to recover, with a ton of physical therapy and IV treatments, since my meds weren’t working. I used a wheelchair for awhile, sometimes still do on my worst days… but things are— were going so well lately,” Frankie still won’t look at Steve, but even from what he can see, her stare grows distant as the memory tries to pull her out of the present. “My hair obviously grew back, and I can walk, most of the time with a cane, but it’s better than nothing. And I— there’s a lot of parts of me I don’t like showing, ‘cause I have scars from the sores. My skin’s all mottled and veiny. Looks aren’t everything, but it still sucks when you look bad on top of feeling bad. I was disgusted with myself every time I saw my reflection.”

That also breaks Steve’s heart; Frankie’s right, looks aren’t everything, but it certainly doesn’t help to watch your body drastically change out of your control while already chronically ill.

“If m’being honest, sometimes I still am,” She admits with her words cracking. “It’s hard to look at the damage my own body inflicted on itself and be okay with all of… that.”

Steve so badly wants to counter her beliefs with the truth before his eyes; Frankie is truly the most beautiful person he’s ever known. Yet, he doesn’t want to come off as if he’s romanticizing the situation, nor does he want to make it seem like he’s being nice, just to placate her self doubt.

“All of that was so hard to survive, even after the threat of paralysis, or death, were gone. I didn’t want to stay anymore, it was so hard to find joy in anything, or plan for a future I wasn’t sure was mine to begin with.” Finally, she turns on her side, gaze locking with Steve’s as she breaks; tears spill down her face as she curls into herself. “The few friends I had got sick of me being sick, eventually stopped talking to me. I was alone and afraid to try talking to anyone new.”

“What about Rhi and Cade?” This has been on his mind since Dr. Amato told Steve he’s the closest person to Frankie right now. “Aren’t they your friends?”

It’s a fractured smile, then a huff, “Kinda. Rhi’s busy with school, and Cade’s always with his boyfriend, so I never see either of them unless it’s getting coffee. At least there’s that, but growing apart because of life sucks. It’s just…everyone is busy, and I get it… but being alone for so long hurt. Hurt real bad. Probably why I came on so strong when I met you.”

“That wasn’t how I saw it. You have no clue how glad I am that you talked to me first.” Gingerly, he pushes stray hairs from her face, fingers trailing down to her cheek before resting his hand there. He sweeps his thumb along her cheekbone, really noticing the size difference between their hands as she wraps her hands around the one on his face. “I wanted to say something at the coffee shop, but it didn’t feel right with everything going on. You were also way too fucking cool for me to approach you first.”

Frankie giggles through her tears. “You’re just being a kiss-ass now.”

“Swear to god I’m not. You—“ He resists spilling the truth, watering it down to, “— you’re the best thing to happen to me in a long fuckin’ time, ‘Key.”

Her laughter and tears shedding evolve into steady crying, eyes screwing shut as she shudders a breath.

“I— god. I want you so much closer, Steve, but I’m so fucking scared.”

His heart skips a beat, and he’s dying to ask what that means, but she only cries harder. Steve winds his arms around her, gently, holding her once more.

Is Frankie scared he’ll leave? She’ll get “too sick” for him and he’ll walk away? Or maybe she’s scared something will happen to her, hurting Steve emotionally.

“You’re not going through this alone. Whatever happens, I’m right here with you. Nothing will change that.” He means every word. “You’re so important to me, ‘Key.”

She hiccups, face buried in his neck. “But what if I—“

“Frankie.” He pulls back to grab her face softly, eyes never leaving her own, despite how hard it hits to see her so broken. He’s unsure where it comes from, but he responds with his own vague confession, “When you’re ready, you tell me. Until then, I’m by your side as much as you allow. M’not going anywhere, not without you.”

Steve hopes, prays, wishes on some shooting star in a night sky somewhere above the world that they’re on the same page, that she’s saying what he thinks she means. That he’s saying what she wants to hear.

There’s no verbal response, no way to tell for sure they’re seeing eye to eye, just Frankie holding him tight with weak arms. She ducks her head back into his shoulder, body heat is still high; Steve’s bracing himself for the worst, but right now, he hopes she knows just how cared for and loved she is.

When Steve promised Frankie’s dad at his appointment that he’d do anything to keep her safe, and swore to her high above the city that she’s safe with him, he meant every fucking word.

As if Frankie can read his thoughts, she murmurs into his shoulder, “Safe with you.”

#steve harrington x fem!oc #series #hurt/comfort

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