#cause I’m doing this as a full send minimal plan vibe and have only booked three things…

[jmflowers]

leaving for a month of solo backpacking through Europe in two days and I haven’t packed a single thing yet

[ahgasecaratfromn-city]

Ten Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Mark Lee x Reader ft. Haechan, Johnny and mention of Jeno

Words: 7.7k

Genre: Fluff, the tiniest bit of angst if you squint, college au

Warning: Tiniest bit of cursing, kissing, family issues, anxiety attack

Summary: You never had the luxury of selecting who you were going to tutor, so when you paired with the only person you disliked, Lee Mark, you couldn’t help but formulate a list of the ten things you hated about him.

A/N: Okay so, I will admit this is longer than I anticipated, my bad. Mark has been stuck in my head and this was my way of getting him out. Basically, each part is a snip bit/ scene from the day named in bold.  *This is very very very minimally edited 

“Who the hell is that?” was not the most flattering thing someone could say when being given a free tutor. Hell, it wasn’t a flattering thing to say under any circumstance. Yet, there you were, walking slowly towards your literature class’s resident idiot, Mark.

“Me, I’m Y/N,” he looked you up and down, frowning slightly before looking back at the professor. The boy seemed to always believe that his opinions mattered to anyone but himself. He was always screaming his misconstrued thoughts during class or more likely not showing up at all, and everything about him seemed to piss you off.

Maybe it was the way he spoke to people, always assuming he was in the right. Or, maybe it was the fact that he spoke period, always rambling about absolutely nothing while the class was engaged in relevant and important conversation. More likely, it was the permanent grin etched on his face, as if nothing could touch him, not even the failing grade he was receiving in this class.

“Mark, this is quite literally your last shot because there is seriously nothing else I can do for you,” you tuned out the rest of the conversation, only raising an eyebrow once you heard that Mark wouldn’t be able to pass without a certain score on the final.

“And you really should thank Y/N, there are other students she could be helping,” your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, blushing lightly as the men looked at you.

It wasn’t as if you had volunteered to tutor Mark specifically. You had been tutoring since high school and figured it was the perfect work-study job to take up. Except you didn’t choose who to tutor, only which subjects. Unfortunately, literature happened to be one of them, and Mark happened to suck at it.

“Now, both of you get out of here,” he pointed to the doorway with a slight smirk on his face as Mark trudged away clearly annoyed.

“We can work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday until the test. We can meet up at the library,” you offered, following after the boy who seemed to only quicken his pace. Jerk.

“Not Friday, that’s a busy day,” he shrugged, looking at everything but you. 

“The test is three weeks from today and judging by your, uhm previous scores, you need all the time you can get,” the boy whipped around at that statement, raising his brow at you. You didn’t understand why he seemed so shocked, you were only telling the truth.

“Fine, catch you later,” His eyes were looking behind you, focused on something else before he finally walked away from you. 

That was another thing that bothered you, he never made eye contact. It was like no one was worth the time of day to him. 

“What are you looking at,” A familiar arm snaked its way around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as you prepared to go home. You smelled the familiar scent of aftershave and light cologne that immediately brought a smile to your face.

“You’ll never guess who I have to tutor,” you looked up at your best friend, Haechan, grinning at his confused face. Haechan had been your best friend since you were kids in the sandbox and since then, wherever he was you were likely right beside him.

“Let’s go eat, and you can tell me all about it,” He spun you around, walking you towards the exit.

-

“Maybe you’re being too hard on him,” the boy suggested, playing with his food before taking a bite. That was his habit whenever you ate together, he would mull over his food as if building a masterpiece before devouring an entire plate in a few bites.

“What do you mean?” You furrowed your brows at the statement. 

“I mean, I dunno, maybe don’t judge a book by its cover and stuff,” A slight blush rose to his cheeks as he realized how cringey what he had said was. His eyes met yours for a split second before you both let out a few synchronized chuckles.

“That was so bad, Chan,” you reached over to poke his cheek, laughing even harder as his cheeks became a deeper shade of red.

“I mean seriously, can you even name ten things you don’t like about him?” He asked, suddenly raising his brows in a challenging manner.

“Honestly, I could name ten things I hate about him,” you admitted, taking a bite of your food to punctuate your point. He only shook his head in disapproval as a response before continuing.

“Get back to me in a few weeks, I bet you’ll even end up friends. He seems nice from what I’ve heard” he sent a knowing wink your way before calling the waitress over.

As he began talking to the waitress, his question was still lingering in your mind. Ten things you hated about Mark. You already had certain attributes running around in your head, but you wondered how many more you were going to add to your list. 

          1. I hate that he is inconsiderate

           [Monday]

It was only the first day of your study sessions with Mark, and of course he was late. You were sitting at your usual table in the corner of the library, checking your phone for the nth time. He was almost an hour late and you were anything but surprised. The boy didn’t strike you as the type to keep his word.

“Hey, tutor girl,” The voice struck you from your thoughts, coming from someone you didn’t think you’d see today.

“Mark,” You nodded towards the seat across from you, opening the textbook you had sat in front of you. The boy sat silently, a smug grin painted across his face as he looked at you, eyes focused above your head. 

“I had something pop up, sorry about that man,” even his apologies were insincere and annoying. You almost wanted to toss the coffee drink in his hands into the trash, but you found it in yourself to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Whatever, let's just get started,” He nodded in response, glancing down at your textbook with a look of uncertainty, “Did you bring your textbook?” It was then that you realized that he hadn’t brought anything with him, not even a pencil. Of course he was unprepared.

“It’s fine, use mine,” You turned yours around towards him before pointing towards a specific chapter. He nodded in response before flicking his eyes back up in your general direction.

“Today, we’ll start with the basics of analyzing a text. We’ll do ethos, pathos, and logos. It’s pretty simple but it’s gonna help with the essay portion,” You rambled on for a few minutes about the basis of arguments and speeches. His eyes were in the book but you couldn't tell if he was understanding or not. Throughout your explanation, you could see his leg shaking and his fingers tapping on the table. 

“Is there anything you want me to go over?” his eyes were still glued to the book as he looked back up at you. He was smiling, as usual, but something about the look in his eye told you that he was utterly confused. 

“No, Uh, I think I understand,” His taps became a bit more intense until he realized you were watching him and stopped. 

“It’s okay if you don't,” you said mindlessly, “I’m here to help,” as much as you weren’t a fan of Mark, you wanted him to do well. It was a part of the reason you liked tutoring. Seeing someone work hard for something, and helping them get there was one of the best feelings in the world.

“It’s fine,” he shrugged, smiling wider. You didn’t understand why he didn’t just say he needed help since it was literally your job, but you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Let’s go over it one more time, for my sake,” you went over the material again, using more examples, even some from popular music to explain the definitions he didn’t understand.

“I mean, I already understood, but I get it, more,” He said sheepishly, rubbing his face in his hand. You smiled a bit at the light pink color growing on his cheeks as you switched subjects.

“Okay, I believe you. We have some more material to cover though. Since you’re picking it up so quickly,” you smirked at the last statement, flipping the textbook in front of him to the correct page. You ignored his groan of despair, instead continuing the lesson you had planned.

You had believed after the first lesson, he might be easy to work with, but eventually, you were proved wrong. Mark was an absolute menace. His incessant taps on the table, glances around the room, random babbling, and absolute lack of interest in what you said, was pissing you off. Even the librarian had walked over to tell him to be quiet.

“Let’s take a break,” he suggested, running a hand through his hair.

“It’s been thirty minutes, Mark,” you rolled your eyes, pointing back at the sheet in front of you. He seemed to lose focus often, so you decided making him take notes might help.

“I know, but honestly my brain is full,” he whined, sending puppy dog eyes your way. Usually, you would have been able to say no, but his puckered lip and innocent eyes were beginning to sway you. 

“Fine, ten minutes,” you gave in to a smiling mark, who shot his fist up in excitement. He leaned back in his chair, looking into space with a look you couldn’t decipher. He was visibly deep in thought and you were beginning to feel very awkward as time went on.

“Tutor girl, yeah she’s tutoring me

 I wanna go home cause that’s the place to be,

Wherever I am, the vibe is nice,

Cause I’m cool like ice,” he went on and on rambling random rhymes with the biggest smile on his face. Nothing would have made you happier than saying that it sounded terrible, and while the rhymes themselves were ridiculous, his voice had a certain addictive vibe that made you want to keep listening.

He suddenly stopped, grinning at your lack of words “Shocked into silence, they say I have that effect on people,” he smirked nonchalantly eliciting a groan of annoyance from you.

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are, but your ten minutes are up,” 

“What! It’s been like three at most,” he complained, dropping his head in annoyance.

“Well, at least stop being so loud,” you rolled your eyes at the boy, who lit up once again. 

You sat in silence for a few seconds before he finally spoke, “Why are you so uptight, tutor girl?” The nickname was really beginning to bug you and so was the boy sitting across from you.

“I have a name you know,” you finally comment, ignoring his question. You were fiddling with your fingers under the table, doing anything to keep your mind off of the uncomfortable question he had asked.

“I know, Y/N,” Your eyes shot up at the mention of your name, almost giving you whiplash. 

“So, why do you call me that?” 

“It’s just a nickname,” he shrugged lightly before beginning to beatbox. He was like a child with the shortest attention span you had seen on anyone above the age of fifteen.

“It’s definitely been ten minutes now,” you pushed his paper towards him before beginning the next lesson.

            2. I hate that he really is a mystery

                 [thursday]

“I’ve never been here,” You commented, looking up at your very tall friend, Johnny opening the door for you. He was a few years older than you but you ended up bonding through the tutoring center you both worked at.

The building was a typical cafe with a warm mocha toned interior. It had bookcases lining one wall with two big grandpa chairs watching over the small tables littered around the room. The place was relatively empty, with only a few people taking up two tables near the bookshelves. It was super cozy and inviting which made you question why you hadn’t been there sooner.

“Really? A lot of people from school come here,” you only nodded in response, following the boy towards the register. 

Once inside, you immediately walked to the baked goods section, eyeing the various desserts.  

You were glad Johnny called. You had been stressed out, from your mom riding you about job applications, classes reaching finals time, tutoring Mark, etc etc. It felt like as you got older the weight on your shoulders got heavier and heavier. Everyone in your life needed you to decide on your future and you just weren’t there yet. You couldn't even decide on a pastry let alone where you wanted to be in ten years. 

“Are you ready to order?” Johnny tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your thoughts.

“Sure,” you nodded, masking the sadness the thoughts had brought on.

You watched as the older boy tapped the service bell before peering over the counter.  “Someone’s coming,” he said, leaning back.

“Hey Johnny, what can I get ya today,” the familiar voice caused your eyes to bulge as you looked up at the owner.

“Tutor girl?” 

“Mark,” you mumbled quietly, nodding in his direction. It seemed as if your problems followed you everywhere.

“You two know each other?”Johnny asked with a grin.

Mark answered quickly “We take lit together,” you frowned at the lack of mentioning the fact that you were his tutor. 

“Ah okay,”

“How do you two know each other?” you asked, only half caring.

“We’ve been friends since his freshman year,” The older boy explained.

“Anyway, what do you want bro?” Mark asked informally, smile bright as he got ready to punch the buttons on the screen in front of him.

“I’ll have an americano, give me like two extra shots,” Johnny looked at you, waiting for your order as Mark tapped on the screen.

“Can I get an americano and a chocolate croissant,” 

“Sure,” the younger boy said absentmindedly.

Johnny reached into his wallet before you could even say anything, looking down at you with a “don’t argue” look. You were used to him paying whenever you went out together or even with other friends, even though you always put up a fight.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark said, pushing Johnny’s card back at him, “on the house,” he explained.

“You sure?” 

“Yeah don’t worry about it,”

“Thank you,” you smiled sincerely, surprised by the gesture.

“He never pays for me,” Johnny said, chuckling as if it were an inside joke before he began looking for a seat.

He finally selected a table in the corner with two chairs beside it, right next to a window. You sat down in the chair, giving the place a once over again. Something had caught your eye this time. You watched as the dark-haired boy darted around behind the register, preparing your drinks expertly. 

“I didn’t know he worked here,” You mumbled absentmindedly, still watching the boy work.

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too,” Johnny commented, smiling knowingly in your direction. You furrowed your brows as you looked back at him. You didn’t know he had one job, let alone two. 

“Oh,” was all you said, leaving it at that. It seemed like Mark really was a mystery to you. You knew virtually nothing about him. Something about that fact gave you an unsettling feeling that you were too stubborn to think about any further.

             3. I hate that he asks too many questions

                  [Friday]

“I don’t want to gooo,” you whined, fighting against Haechan who was currently pushing you towards the library.

“It’s only the third day. You’re such a baby,” You could practically hear his eyes roll as he stopped in front of the door. He had given you a ride to the library, as he always would if he had time.

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,”

“Are too,” 

“Am not,” Despite how childish it was, you literally stamped your foot, leading to a laughing fit from the two of you. 

“I can’t believe you,” he sighed, lightly shoving you.

“I’m very mature though, on a serious-,” you suddenly stopped speaking as you noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore, “what is it?” you turned on your heel only to be met with the infamous boy himself.

“Am I too early?” he looked down at his phone with furrowed brows before looking back at you. 

“No, you’re actually on time,” you didn’t mean to come off as passive-aggressive but judging from Mark’s raised brows, you did.

You watched as Haechan reached out to shake Mark’s hand with a friendly smile and a quick mutter of his name. Mark responded by smiling awkwardly before finally reciprocating the gesture. “I’m Mark,” he introduced himself with his world-famous grin before flicking his gaze in your direction.

It was silent for a few moments before Haechan finally said something, “I’ll leave you guys to it,” he smiled one last time, sending you a mischievous look before leaving the two of you alone.

“You ready?” he asked, reaching up to grab the nape of his neck awkwardly. You quickly noticed the Jansport backpack he was sporting. It was a small thing but something about the fact that he came prepared made you feel weird.

“Uhh, yeah,” you opened the door to the library, walking quickly to the usual spot in the corner, Mark trudging quietly behind you.

“I made some flashcards for you,” You began, reaching into your bag and pulling out the index cards that you had put on a binder ring.

“Thanks,” he took the cards from your hand with a smile.

“So that guy’s your boyfriend?” he asked casually while shuffling through the cards.

You jaw all but dropped in shock as you fumbled to find the right words, “absolutely not,” you finally said, “he’s like a brother,” you clarified, waiting for his reaction.

The question made you feel uneasy coming from his mouth. It seemed random and very odd considering neither one of you had ever discussed anything personal.

“Oh, okay. You seem close,” he commented, continuing to look through the flashcards.

“We are, but uh, today lets just talk about your essay structure,” you changed the subject promptly, noticing the grin that was solidifying on his face.

Ten minutes later you could already tell he was distracted, judging by his taps on the table that were rapidly reaching a fever pitch.

He looked in your direction suddenly, “What do you want to do, tutor girl, like after graduation” 

Mark asked you the question like it was the most casual thing to say, like it was comparable to “how was your day” or “what kind of coffee do you like.” No one had really asked you that before, what you wanted to do.

“uh, I’m not sure honestly,” you were unsure of why you were even entertaining the conversation. Had it been asked a few days ago you might have just rolled your eyes and answered with the generic response you had been trained to use.

“Really? You seem like the type to plan everything a hundred steps ahead,” 

You quirked your eyebrow up in surprise “What’s that supposed to mean,” 

A light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he stumbled over his words, “No, it’s just that you, like, seem put together, like you know what you want,” he clarified.

The notion confused you to an extent. You never knew what you wanted. You had spent so long doing what people told you that you should do, that you barely even thought about what you wanted. Honestly speaking, you had only started tutoring because your mother told you it would look good on college applications. You had just so happened to actually end up enjoying it. That was the real reason you always did everything the same way and were what Mark called ‘uptight’.

“I don’t,” you admitted, “I have a hard time knowing what I want,” you trailed off quietly before asking him the same question.

“I want to pursue music, but I’m not sure if it’s practical,” he said shrugging.

“It isn’t practical,” you agreed, smiling lightly at the shocked face Mark sent you, “but if it’s something you want to do, it’s worth trying,” you finished, watching as Mark let out a breath. 

He sighed, “I wish it were that easy,” his table tapping picked up a slow pace. You nodded in agreement, realizing that you were in a similar predicament. “Well, what do you like to do?” he asked suddenly.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you replied simply, playing with the seam of your jeans.

             4. I hate that he’s unbelievably stubborn

                   [Monday]

“Mark, honestly we can just reschedule,” You watched as the boy shook his head, jumping from his previous position.

“No, I’m fine,” he shook his head a few times before gesturing in your direction for you to continue.

The boy kept nodding off throughout your lesson and showing obvious signs that he was in no way capable of learning anything. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn’t slept all weekend, his eye bags were at least three shades darker than usual, and most importantly he wasn’t making any noises at all. Not even his usual incessant table taps.

“Mark, you did pretty well on the practice quiz, you can take the day off,” you tried to reason with the boy whose eyes were barely open. It looked like he was sleeping with his eyes open.

“No no, y/n,” him using your real name made you feel weird and told you that he was definitely not in the right mind. “You came all the way here, let’s just start,” 

You chuckled lightly at his groggy and barely comprehensible voice as you closed your books. 

“Why are you so tired anyway? Did you work over the weekend?” you found yourself actually curious about his answer, not just asking something random for the sake of it not being awkward.

He answered simply, trying his best to hide a yawn, “yep,” 

You shook your head disapprovingly before finally speaking, “Alright this is what we’re going to do. One more practice test and then please go home and do us both a favor and go to sleep,” 

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he admitted, sitting upright.

“You’re more of an inconvenience this way because I can't tutor someone who can’t even spell their own name,” I tapped on the corner of his notes, where he had written his name as “mar” leaving the last letter off.

“Fine,” he said finally, lifting his hoodie off of his head.

“You’re so god damn stubborn,” you whispered mostly to yourself.

“I can hear you, y’know,” you smiled at his remark before setting a practice test in front of him.

               5. I hate that he sees what no one else does

                     [Friday]

“Yes, mom,” you paused for a moment, waiting for your mother’s usual rant about how you never did anything right, and how at your age she was already starting her own business, yada yada, the usual. 

“I know,” pause, “I sent them out last week, remember?” pause, “I will,”

“Hey, tutor girl,” Mark greeted, taking his usual seat in front of you. He had a concerned look on his face as he noticed you were on the phone having an unpleasant conversation.

You pulled the phone away from your face, “I’ll be right back,” you shot him a small generic smile before walking outside of the building.

“Y/N if you don’t get it together, I’m going to-” your mother’s voice could be heard despite the fact that you had pulled the phone away from your face.

“I’m in the middle of a tutoring session, I have to call you back later,” you interrupted, pressing the hang-up button soon after.

You took a few long breaths before plastering a smile onto your face and walking back inside the building. You could feel Mark’s eyes on you as you walked towards him trying your best to keep up a strong facade.

“Are you okay,” the concern in his voice as you looked at him almost wiped the smile off of your face.

“I’m fine, let’s get started,”

“It’s okay if you’re not. You can tell me about it,” he paused for a few moments, tapping on the table as he usually did, “I can tell you’re you aren’t,” 

“It’s nothing, let’s just start,” you waved your hand in dismissal.

“If that’s what you want,” he phrased it more like a question than a statement.

“So, today let’s talk about how point of view affects the entire story,” you began your explanation, the fake smile long gone as you gave examples from the required reading. Mark seemed only half interested in what you were saying, which was usually normal, except today you could feel his eyes glued to your face while yours were in the book as you gestured to certain sentences. 

You were not in the mood for his antics and as time passed he was truly starting to bug you. “What!? What are you looking at?” you whisper-yelled in his direction. You found yourself feeling immediately guilty as the boy looked at you in complete and utter shock. His lips had slightly parted into an ‘o’ shape and his brows were slightly raised. His cheeks had even begun turning into a deep red.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t-” he mumbled, trailing off at the end.

You raised your hand to your head, feeling a headache coming on, “no, I’m sorry. Honestly, I’m a little stressed out,” you admitted.

“It’s okay, you can talk to me about it. Like, if you want,” he looked at you expectantly, with a concerned expression adorning his face.

“It’s just my mom. She has a lot of expectations for me. It’s stressful sometimes, y’know,” he nodded at your words, waiting for you to continue, “It’s overwhelming. I don’t really know what to do. It’s like she’s been controlling my life for so long that I don’t even know what I want to do without her telling me,” you finished. 

It felt good letting it all out, and for some reason, you felt comfortable telling Mark about it. He seemed to really listen to you, like he actually cared. 

“Have you ever talked to her about it?” he asked.

“No, she’s not the best listener,” he nodded again.

“Then I think right now all you can do is try to figure out what you actually want for yourself. Like what’s something you really want to do? Like bucket list stuff,” he asked with wide eyes.

“I dunno, maybe a road trip,” you said the first thing that came to mind, mentally slapping yourself at how lame the answer was. “I’ve never really been anywhere,” you explained simply. “Kind of lame,”

He shook his head, “It's not lame if it’s something you want.” You only nodded in response.

“What you want is important, Y/N. Even if you don't know exactly what that is yet.”

               6. I hate that he is everywhere

                     [monday]

“It’s not my fault,” Haechan rolled his eyes at your shocked expression as he spoke.

“Haechan,” you said slowly, “I really shouldn’t have to explain it to you,” you shook your head in his direction. 

You were walking down the main commons area in your school, killing time before your next class.

“If someone says to you, hey! Can I borrow your hanger, how am I supposed to guess that they’ll-” he stopped speaking suddenly, a smile breaking out on his face, “look there’s your boy,” he nodded slightly in the direction ahead of you.

You looked up, almost immediately spotting Mark. He was smiling brightly as he spoke to a girl beside him. She looked to be familiar, maybe from the year below you. You watched as they laughed together, heads falling back as if they were in a movie. You had to admit, they made a cute couple.

“He’s not my boy,” you shoved your friend with light force, ignoring the tight feeling in your chest.

“Don’t worry, pretty sure she’s dating Jeno. Actually no, I’m super sure, every time I see them, they’re sucking face,” he grimaces at the notion, furrowing his brows tightly as if remembering the image vividly.

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly, “Why would I worry?”

“Okay, y/n,” he matched your expression, shrugging in the same way you did.

            7. I hate that his car smells just like him

                   [Tuesday]

“No it’s fine, I’ll just find a way home,” you glanced at Mark, whose eyes were on you already. “No, Haechan don’t worry about it. I’ll text you later,” you hung the phone up and looked up at the boy ahead of you.

After you opened up to Mark the previous week, he had begun taking a seat next to you in class. It seemed like you had become friends, or acquaintances at least. That felt weird to even think about. You and Mark were friends? No, acquaintances, you were just acquaintances. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, gathering his belongings.

“Yea, I just have to walk home,” you answered absentmindedly before standing.

“I can, like, give you a ride,” he offered nonchalantly, standing in front of you.

“You drive?”

He smirked at the question, “just got a new car,” 

“Okay then, if it’s no trouble,” you agreed, nodding at him. It was super weird how comfortable you were around him now. There were still things you very much disliked about him, but getting to know him had shown you that there were some things you hadn’t known at all.

“Alright,” he smiled in your general direction before leading the way. You had grown used to his quick pace, keeping up with ease now. 

“It’s nice right,” he pats the old black car lightly, as if he was afraid something would fall off. 

“Super nice,” you agreed with a grin.

You both walked to your respective sides and slid into your seats quietly. You were immediately hit with the smell of watermelon air freshener and the cologne Mark usually wore. 

“You can put your address in,” he pointed to the GPS on the car and you promptly typed it in.

There was a lasting awkward silence after that, Mark focusing diligently on driving while you were focused on counting the red cars that went by. You wondered how long it would take for someone to say something. Eventually, Mark just put on the radio, hoping to fill the silence.

He winced slightly at the country song that began playing, “You wanna hear one of my songs,” he said suddenly, a small smile accompanying his words.

“Sure,” you were actually curious, seeing as you had never heard him rap seriously, only hearing his mumbles when he was bored.

“Press the acronym one,” he said, handing you his phone, eyes still trained on the road. It was almost comical how focused he was while driving whereas during tutoring sessions he was always distracted.

“Que-tay, uhm, qwe-ta,” you tried pronouncing the acronym, eliciting a laughing fit from Mark. His laugh was so innocent you couldn’t help but smile along even though you didn’t know what was so funny.

“Key-tah,” he finally said with a smile.

“Ah,” you nodded, turning the volume up.

The song started off subtly, with a chill beat that matched the atmosphere in the car. You could see Mark’s light blush peeking from your peripheral as the song went on. By the time the second verse began, Mark was humming along before finally fully rapping alongside himself. Again, you were reminded of how addictive his voice was. 

He seemed so passionate at that moment, so confident. He was showing a side to himself that you hadn’t seen before. Someone so comfortable where he was. Someone truly in their element.

“I get why you want to do music,” you commented as the song ended.

“Why?” 

“You love it. I can tell. It’s like more than just a career for you, it’s a part of you,” you said matter of factly. The statement confused you to some degree. You had never seen someone so comfortable in their element. You hated to admit it but you were even a little jealous.

He smiled at that notion, “It is a part of me. Ever since I was young, my dad taught me how to play guitar and that really just jump started my love for it.” You nodded in understanding before picking a random Frank Ocean song on his playlist. 

“You should come to my showcase next week, I just got offered a spot today,” he said suddenly. You were completely shocked that he had asked you. 

“You can bring your friend, I think our whole class is going. It’s supposed to be an end of finals celebration” ah, everyone was going. 

“Okay,” you accepted simply, heat rushing to your cheeks for an unknown reason.

“just put your number in my phone, I’ll send the details later,”

The car ride from then on was more comfortable. What was once an awkward silence had become a relaxed atmosphere where you and Mark would chat about random things like the music on his playlist or the watermelon screensaver on his phone. 

              8.  I hate that he thinks can pull one over on me

                    [wednesday]

 “tutor girl, what’s up?” Mark crashed down into the seat in front of you, setting down a drink carrier from his cafe and a bag.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, shaking your head at his noisy entrance.

“Here you go,” he pushed an Iced Americano in your direction, following with the white bag.

“Oh, thank you, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you watched the smile on his face widen as he shook his head.

“It’s the least I could I could do for my favorite tutor,” your felt your cheeks get hot until you remembered one very important detail.

“I’m your only tutor, and you still have to take the full practice test,” you said sternly, putting the straw in the coffee quickly.

“Come on,” he whined out before starting a whole argumentative speech about how the practice tests were annoying.

               9. I hate that he doubts himself

                    [thursday]

“I mean, and I say this with full respect,” Mark began, “I truly don’t think I’m going to do that well,” he admitted, toying with the drawstring of his hoodie.

“Mark, just because you say with full respect, doesn’t make it more respectful,” you said with a grin, “but seriously, you’ve been doing so well on your practice quizzes. Over 60% every time, which is way better than what we started with,” you admitted, wincing a bit at the last statement you let slip out.

“Still, that’s not a passing grade,” he shrugged, utterly defeated as he picked up the essay rubric from his desk. His usual brighter than the sun smile had disappeared, leaving you feeling uncomfortably cold.

“Honestly your lack of trust in my tutoring skills is beginning to annoy me,” 

“No, dude, I trust you,” your eyes flew to him at that statement. He was still pondering over the paper in front of him as he continued, “I just feel like I suck at this stupid subject,” he threw the paper back onto the table at that statement.

You found yourself giving a pep talk without even a second thought “No, you don’t. You’re caught on quickly. You’re so smart but you need to stop second-guessing yourself. You’re going to do well. Even better than well because you have my help.”

“Thanks, tutor girl. I appreciate you,” you could tell he was sincere because he had met your eyes, even if just for a split second. It was the first time he had ever looked you in your eyes and it was making you feel things.

“I’m serious though, you are way smarter than you give yourself credit for, and you should know that you are no matter what score you get on this stupid test,” you finish, grinning as the smile returned on his face.

“Okay,” he nodded lightly as he stood waiting for you to join him.

You chuckled lightly at the boy as you looked up at him, “What is it, Mark?” he had a sheepish look on his face as if he was nervous about something other than the obvious.

“uhm well,” He was looking intently at you when you didn’t notice, waiting for any signs that he was annoying you.

“Actually, there’s something I was going to ask you,” a light blush found its way onto his cheeks as he spoke. You nodded in his direction waiting for whatever he had to say, looking up to find his eyes on you. 

At that moment you noticed almost like for the first time how pretty his eyes were. They were so doe-like and innocent, you couldn’t stop staring. 

To outsiders, you both would have seemed very odd as you stood just staring at each other. 

“Well, I-”

“Y/N, hurry- oh shoot, sorry,” Haechan’s voice rang from the doorway, pulling you out of whatever trance you had been in.

“I’m almost done,” you widened your eyes in Haechan’s direction for emphasis, looking back at Mark who had already looked away. “What were you saying, Mark?”

He smiled lightly for a moment, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing important,”

You furrowed your brows lightly, “You sure.”

“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” 

              10. I hate that I don’t hate him

                   [Friday]

“I told you so,” Haechan was grinning ear to ear as he joined you on your walk to class.

“I could name ten things I hate about him, yeah right,” He laughed to himself suddenly, mocking your old statement. “Imagine my shock seeing your face a few inches away from his. I should’ve taken a picture.”

“Shut up,” you pushed him lightly, finally reaching the door to the lit class.

“I’ll see you afterwards, good luck,” he said, sending you a final wave before walking away.

It was the test date and you were sure that Mark was nervous. As soon as you got into the room, you noticed his fingers tapping violently on the desk, his single mechanical pencil clattering as it jumped around. He was there early, earlier than you were and that was saying something. The room was empty except for the two of you, even despite you being only about fifteen minutes early.

“Mark,” you had to call his name a second time to get his attention. “Mark, relax,” you took the seat next to him and swiftly grabbed his chattering hand in your own. You watched as his leg began bouncing up and down as if it were mocking the pencil’s previous movement, “Mark, breathe,” his eyes were glued to something in the distance, his breath labored.

“Shit, I’m not prepared,” he muttered quietly, “I should have done another quiz,” he breathed out. “and I can’t fucking breathe,” he clenched his brows at the last statement, his breathing coming out as quick huffs.

“Look at me, Mark,” you reached up to turn his chin towards you. “I think you’re having an anxiety attack,” you said the words slowly, hoping to not make it any worse.

“You have to breathe, I’m right here and I’m not going to let go of you,” you squeezed lightly on his hand to emphasize your words.

“You’ve studied and studied. You’ve worked hard. You’re going to do well. All you have to do now is relax and breathe. In and out,” his eyes were glued to yours before he finally closed them altogether and began taking slow deep breaths.

“I’m here with you, and we’re both going to destroy this thing,” he nodded slowly at your words, opening them a few minutes later as his breathing reached a normal pace and his leg stopped bouncing. 

You released his hand in the next second, sending him a small smile.

“I’m glad you’re with me,” was the last thing he said before people began filing into the room.

[Monday]

“I know what you’ve all been waiting for. I have your graded finals,” Your professor had waited until the end of the day to finally share the news, leaving everyone anxious.

It was utterly silent as he passed them around, only the sound of him saying a quick “see me after class,” to Mark, who immediately winced at the statement. You couldn’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, noticing that Mark hadn’t received his test back.

“Class is dismissed,” he pointed towards the doorway after delivering the final test, smiling lightly at the people whose arms were thrown up in celebration.

Your score wasn’t that big of a surprise, you had gotten what was expected of you. You were way more interested in Mark. So you decided to wait outside the door, watching as students filed out.

It seemed like hours had passed while you were waiting for him. You mindlessly scrolled through your phone, completely missing the sounds of someone walking up to you, that someone being Mark himself.

You yelped in surprise as you were lifted off of your feet and spun around in the air.

“What the hell,” was all you said as the boy set you down.

“Y/N, Look!” he exclaimed, handing you the test with a huge eighty-five percent scribbled in red on the top right corner of the sheet.

“Mark, I told you, you could do it,” you hugged the smiling boy, grinning brightly at him.

“I couldn’t have without you, Y/N,” the sincerity in his eyes as they bore into your own was making you melt on the spot. 

“No more tutor girl?” you asked, grin never falling.

“You’ll always be tutor girl but, uh,” he paused as if deep in thought for a moment, “I really like spending time with you. I think it will be weird not seeing you all the time,” you nodded in agreement, realizing that the semester had ended, meaning it was summer break.

“Well, we’re friends now right. We can still hang out,” you offered, watching as the boy looked down with a look you couldn’t decipher.

“Um, I know we’re friends, but,” he stepped a little closer to you, “I was wondering like, y’know if it’s possible, if you maybe wanna,” he continued to stumble over his words. You couldn’t help but smile at his very awkward, very cute way of asking you what you already knew he was getting at.

“Mark, do you want to go out sometime,” you finally blurted, chuckling at his pink face. 

“Yes, I would like that a lot,” he said nodding.

“I don’t know if you knew but uhm, I mean it was before, but basically um, I’m sorry I judged you before, Mark,” you apologized suddenly watching as he shook his head in dismissal. It had been on your mind for a while even despite him not knowing.

“I knew you felt that way before. That’s kind of why I was so like reluctant to have you as my tutor,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed lightly.

“That’s why you were so weird the day he told us,” you nodded in understanding remembering the look Mark gave you when you were first introduced, as if you spat in his drink. In his defense you deserved it.

“Honestly, yeah,” he confessed, “but in your defense, I am kind of an acquired taste,” 

“That’s not an excuse. I was an idiot,” you admitted, “Mark, you’re amazing,” he smiled lightly at your last statement, taking the time to just look at you. His brown eyes were like a pool, drawing you in until you sank, unable to stop staring.

He reached out, cupping your cheek with his hand before speaking, “Can I kiss you?”

You only nodded in response, waiting patiently as he lowered his head towards your face until he was less than a centimeter away. It felt like hours had passed until his lips grazed yours, allowing a tingling sensation to move throughout your body.

 In a flash, your arms were around his neck and he was holding onto you delicately, like you would break if he was too rough. He tasted like a mixture of mint and watermelon gum. His warm foresty and floral scent was filling your senses, actively intoxicating you as his lips moved against yours rhythmically. The kiss was greater than any apology you could have given him since it was full of the emotion you couldn’t fully articulate. Mark was fully focused on you in the moment, lips moving against yours like a magnet.

“I told you to become friends, not make out in public,” you heard Haechan’s voice interrupt, causing you to immediately pull away from the boy in front of you. You couldn’t help but laugh uncontrollably at Haechan's mortified face and Mark’s intense blush.

“Sorry,” Mark muttered quietly, smiling as he looked down at you.

Haechan walked towards the older boy, looping a hand around his shoulder as he spoke, “Y’know, I always saw this coming. She said she didn’t like you, but a best friend always knows,” you could only shake your head as Mark looked back at you as if asking for help. You could hear Haechan going on and on about his premonitions as you trailed behind the two boys, feeling a sense of happiness you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Mark was someone you could never see yourself with. He was loud, always distracted, obnoxious, stubborn, and mysterious. But he was also kind, deliberate, hard-working, smart, infectiously positive, and beautiful. You didn’t know when the thought struck you, but as you looked up at the brunette boy walking ahead you finally knew what you wanted. You wanted him by your side for as long as possible.

[planetsam]

omg i just found your blog and i love it!! please please write a mike x eleven story kali goes to hawkins and reunites with el and that’s how mike, hopper, and the rest of the boys find out el has a sister

Kali doesn’t believe in miracles anymore.

Not if she’s one of them.

She believes in 011 though, so she goes after her. Back to Hawkins. She sends the others off to do it too, not sure how this will go. If she was odd before she’s a freak on another level now, with her painted appearance and her shadowed eyes. She shouldn’t be surprised to find 011 has done the same things she has. Built a family, carved a life, drawn what she needs into her sphere. It looks different, it still has the shine Papa liked so much.

“What are you doing here?” 011 asks quietly when she sees her.

“I came to see what all the fuss is about,” she says with a flip of her hair, “didn’t realize I was interrupting third period and homecoming,” she sneers and 011 at least has the grace to turn pink in the ears before her face hardens.

“I’m sorry I’m not robbing a bank,” she shoots back and Kali glares.

“Well not as the daughter of the police chief. Though you’d have an easier time of it. No surprise there.”

It’s a cruel thing to say but she’s cruelest at her most vulnerable. 011 grabs her wrist and yanks her over to the phone booth. She pulls out a quarter, jams in a number and talks quickly. Quietly. Then she turns to Kali.

“Stay here,” she orders.

“Going to be late for fourth period?” Kali demands, making her voice high and girlish.

She rolls her eyes as 011 storms away, rolls them again as she runs when the bell starts to ring. It was a mistake, she thinks. Coming here was a mistake. Next time she’s going to someone else. She bets 01 has a way cooler life than this town. Running away from here makes more sense than whatever the hell is happening here. She rolls these thoughts in her head, enjoying them as she waits as instructed. Trying not to wonder at why she’s waiting at all. The car that pulls up comes dangerously close and she almost has to slam on the hood to get it to stop. The driver has the grace to look surprised but then his eyes narrow, like this is just a regular day for him.

“Are you Kali?” he questions, opening the door.

“Depends on who you are,” she says giving her best devil may care smile. He lets out a long suffering sigh like this is just what happens now. “you are?” she prods.

“I’m Steve,” he says, “Jane called me.”

She appraises him, all slim lines and chiseled jaw. He looks like one of those boys that Dottie likes seeing on her magazines. Or Axel sometimes stares at a little longer than he should. His clothes are good quality but have seen better days. Unless he’s just been gardening, in which case, he’s not like the boys on those magazines at all. She wonders if 011 has been stupid enough to tell him the specifics, or if she’s just told him to stand still like Kali’s some wounded, skittish animal.

“Are you my babysitter?” she asks and he smirks.

“Yeah, so get in the car,” he says without missing a beat.

She looks back at the high school and shrugs.

Can’t possibly be worse than where she’s been.

He actually is a god damn babysitter.

It floors her when the day lets out and there’s a dozen rugrats 011’s age scurrying around. For all the things they can do, she forgets how young 011 actually is. And yet no age can make this better as they talk about things they shouldn’t know about like they’re discussing the weather. Steve has snacks ready to go and somehow gets the circus that’s happening under control while she stares at it with a mix of frustration and exasperation. 011 seems to be steadfastly ignoring it, looking down at her textbooks like a coward.

“Does this happen every day?” she demands rounding on Steve.

“Uh, most days,” he says.

“And what are you doing here?” she questions.

“Identity crisis,” he says without skipping a beat.

She lets out a noise of frustration.

“Screaming room’s there,” the one called Dustin says pointing his pencil, “we killed a Demidog in there so it’s got bad vibes. Get it all out.”

She’s going to kill them all.

Steve makes up the sofa because, again, he’s a babysitter. And a maid. And a chef apparently, which seems like a lot for someone going through a crisis. He studies a lot too and she finds that even stranger. She remarks that one day, flopping on the couch and watching some dumb gameshow she’s never seen.

“You’re very busy for someone in the middle of a crisis,” she says.

“I multitask,” he replies.

She swings herself off the couch, dressed only in a long t-shirt and saunters over to him. He glances up once and then looks back down, focusing intently on a book until she grabs it out of his hand, spinning it back towards her. She glances at it and then looks at him, raising an eyebrow as he suddenly finds the counter interesting.

“This is a chemistry text book,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“You graduated didn’t you?” she asks and he nods, “so why are you—“

“I’m taking a year off,” he gets out, clearly embarrassed and she rolls her eyes, shoving the book back at him.

“I didn’t even go to high school,” she says airily and retreats back to the couch.

011 has told her boys everything. Kali’s been smart enough to keep her band at an arms length, not telling them everything. 011 hasn’t extended that courtesy. They aren’t even surprised to see her, though she supposes that one can go to straight old logic as the labs were kind enough to number them chronologically. Her 008 has caused her a lot of frustration over the years but now it feels obvious. Like a marker everyone is aware of in ways she doesn’t want them to be. Irrationally she wants to hunt Terry Ives down and demand to know if the crazy bitch has more plans to ruin everything. Or maybe her sister does and can meddle some more.

“I cried when they tattooed me,” she tells Steve one day when it’s raining out, “they said it wouldn’t hurt but it did,” she fingers the numbers, “at the time.”

“You get any since?” he asks and she turns over her shoulder to flash him a wicked smile that makes him shift his weight.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she says. His eyes linger just a fraction too long on her collar bone and she rolls over, gets to her knees, “do you have any tattoos?” she challenges and he laughs.

“Not the type,” he says.

“What type is that?” she asks, “the dangerous type? The rebellious type?” she closes the distance between them, “the delinquent type?”

“I was gonna say the kidnapped and imprisoned type,” he says and she purses her lips.

“No, I suppose you’re not the type at all.”

She really can’t place him which becomes a source of frustration to her. They’re known for drawing in people who are useful to them—which he isn’t—or who please them—which he doesn’t—or who are trustworthy. He offers nothing, pleases no-one and he might be trustworthy but she doesn’t trust people. 011 trusts too many it seems. She corners the bowl haircut one with the sad eyes. Not to be confused with the bowl haircut one with the goo goo eyes and questions him. He coughs up the answer with minimal prodding and she saunters over to Steve.

“So,” she says, “you got your heart broken. Trying to win back fair maiden’s hand?”

“No,” he scoffs. She leans forward and he pulls back.

“Your ears are red,” she says, curling a piece of hair out of the way as if to show him. He jerks at the touch and she grins, “you know being a stay at home dad is kind of a libido killer. You should be out there showing how desirable you are.”

“Thanks, but, I’m not taking romance advice from—from—“

“Someone who can make someone do anything they want?” she asks, “I could win Nancy faster than you,” she says, wicked ideas occurring to her, “I could win her back for you,” she says, “make her want to see you instantly.“

“That’s not love,” he says and she laughs.

“They can’t tell the difference.”

“Yeah, but you can.”

It’s an obvious statement. Her laugh is edged in brittle all of a sudden, sharp edges clawing out. Brittle doesn’t have a place here. Not in this storybook kitchen, not in the lives of people who haven’t been ruined. She knows she’s the oddity here, but just how odd seems to hit her with the unexpected look in his eyes. She knows that look, the scientists used to give it to her all the time.

“It’s all the same to me,” she dismisses, pushing away from the table, “when you want me to get your girlfriend back, you let me know.”

She lays awake that night seething. It’s been a long time since she turned a conversation over in her head like this. She’s not sure why. Steve Harrington is a loser, in the kindest sense of the word. A bright star who fell fast and he’s now reduced to this shit town with his shit job and babysitting these shit kids. She hates this town. She never should have come back here. She starts to formulate a plan to leave.

She must talk in her sleep because there’s a lot of waffles for breakfast.

She stares at them and then at the one responsible.

“Don’t win my ex-girlfriend back,” he says, “not loving someone back isn’t a crime. And she has someone she loves so, just, leave it.”

She stares at him.

“Are you really that good of a person?” she questions.

He shrugs.

“Nah, i’m not.”

“Thats what a good person would say.”

She takes the peace offering, realizing what it is. When she’s done she sets her silverware down and stands up, coming in front of him. He follows her with his eyes as she gathers the hem of her shirt in her hands and pulls it over her head, turning her back to him. He stares at the tattoo and she gathers her hair up for the full effect. He swallows tightly and she drops her shirt back on.

“They marked me with their name, so i marked my own.”

She enjoys the look in his eyes maybe a little too much as he watches her sit back down and dig into another waffle. Steve stares at his plate silently and she feels a shiver of delight at a power that she rarely gets the chance to use. When color comes back into his cheeks, he clear his throat before getting up and walking away, shifting his too tight jeans as he goes.

Running away taught her a long time ago that men come in all shades of monster. There’s all kinds of violations your body can go through, all kinds of walls you need to keep them out. Steve could easily be one of them, he has the constantly frustrated look of someone who spent a long time thinking the world was one way, only to find out it isn’t. There is nothing malicious about him though, but Kali has been wrong about that assumption before. Trusted too easily, paid a price in a long line on her right breast that will never go away.

She resolves to try it, just a little push to see how he reacts. Little is often easier with proximity and darkness so that night she goes to his room. She closes her eyes and reaches for his mind. It’s pliable and soft, he’s no great genius nor does he have a wealth of defenses up against her. The goodness is there, somewhere deep in all of this but deeper still is the determination. The grit. It catches her off guard, slips her control and she’s wrenched back to where she is, standing above him. His eyes open and he jerks awake, looking at her with wide eyes. She chokes on something that she’s not calling emotion, waiting for the anger. But he just reaches over to the side of the bed and pulls out a tissue.

“Your nose is bleeding,” he says. When she makes no move to take it he presses himself to his feet. He towers over her but maybe for the first time in her adult life, this is simply a fact. “Here, lemme.” He touches the tissue under her nose and takes her hand, guiding it there. She goes to tilt her head back and he shakes his, “lean forward,” he says. She looks at him doubtfully, “just trust me?” She doesn’t move, “what do you have to lose?”

At the moment? Nothing.

She doesn’t want that to change.

She tips her head forward anyway. The bleeding stops quickly. He hands her another tissue and she takes it, careful not to touch any of him. He sits back on the bed as she tosses them into the bin. He looks up at her and she feels unsettled by how calm he is.

“You okay?” He asks and she starts at the question, “you wanna sleep here?”

She waits until his breathing is deep and even before she risks looking over at him. He’s curled on his side, his back is to her and she wonders what else Dottie said is a lie. Or if Steve is just different. She doesn’t like either option. She closes her eyes and lets out a long breath, trying to steady her pounding heart.

She has to get out of here.

“And go where?” 011 demands.

“Nowhere you need to worry that pretty little head about,” she says.

“Why did you come?”

The question stings and makes her feel embarrassed all at once. None of which she’s willing to show. She looks over her shoulder. Steve is pretending to read, but his eyes are fixed on one word. It stings across her mind like a brand and she hates him for it. Especially the intent behind it.

“I was looking for my sister,” she says, “if you ever find her, tell her I was here?”

She walks out as Jane’s face collapses. As the book slams shut. As Steve catches the door she throws open and follows her out. Venom floods her mouth as she turns, ready to burn the last thing she has here. The stupid, fragile thing that will ignite with nothing from either of them. That’s how the world works.

“Hey!” He says, “you can’t talk to her like that! She’s just a kid!”

“I was a kid once too, that didn’t stop anyone from talking to me like that!”

“That’s your excuse?” He demands and she feels her hackles raise, “someone did it to me so I’m going to do it to someone else?”

“I’m sure that’s not easy for you to understand with people giving you everything and you just passing it along. I’m surprised your parents aren’t worried with you playing house like this, surprised they’re so willing to share their precious boy.”

She knows she crossed some kind of line, knows it a moment too late at the look on his face. Amidst her crashing stomach she consoles herself with the fact that she made him angry, which was always her plan. The anger is there, but it’s mixed with something far worse and she rails against the pity. She doesn’t want anyone’s pity. She wants his fear, she wants his respect, she wants–she shoves away the alarming number of things she wants and glares up at him.

“You don’t know the first thing about me,” he says and she laughs cruelly.

“I don’t need to,” she says, “you’re just like everyone else.”

“Spoken exactly like someone who shaved half their head,” he snaps, “you think standing in the corner makes you unique? Or better? Everyone has their own story. Their own past they’re trying to deal with.”

“I’m sure you had such a hard life,” she sneers, “delaying growing up playing house with all these kids. Going for Dad of the year like yours was?”

“And you’re doing the exact same thing the lab did.”

She slaps him.

Not with her mind, with her hand. Slaps him and feels the sting of it in her had.

“Take that back,” she hisses. He says nothing, “take it back!” She yells and reaches for his mind.

He screams through gritted teeth as she digs in. Everyone’s yelling and she hears them coming as he drops to his knees. The bastard still throws a hand out to stop them. She ignores it and digs through his thoughts, his emotions. Past the goodness to the determination, to the core. She sees parents who aren’t there, parents who don’t care. A mother who laments her son losing a great girl without knowing he was lied to, a father who shakes his head and never sees. She sees bruises under his skin, pain that isn’t the kind you can stop but leaves a much deeper scar. She sees a boy sitting forgotten on the steps of a school, his pain indistinguishable from a girl who goes to sleep with no one to tuck her in.

“Let him go!”

The boy who tackles her ignores him and though she catches him, she’s not quite fast enough to catch 011 who severs their connection. Steve’s bleeding too, his eyes going in and out of focus but he still staggers up, catches Dustin in his arms.

“It’s okay, man, I’m okay,” he says, “let it go.”

“Leave!” 011 roars at her, the moment they’re in the house, “I want you gone. Steve did nothing but be nice to you and you hurt him. We might be sisters but you–you are not welcome here anymore,” she looks at her, “apologize first, fix it, then you leave.”

Kali stares at her quietly, unable to find her anger.

He really is a good person, she thinks dully, too shell shocked to push the thought away. She trails down the corridor to the bathroom. Steve’s hunched over the toilet, Dustin, Lucas and Max all arguing above him over a bottle of aspirin. Steve’s trying to wave them off. She feels the memory of no-one doing this for him. They all look at her and she feels rightfully embarrassed, but it’s been a long time since she has and she refuses to give into it around them. Steve’s head moves up and she rolls her eyes, realizing she’ll have to get over it.

“Can I fix him? Please?”

“Hey screw you, you’re not going in his head again,” Dustin snaps.

“Fine, he can stay like that,” she says as he hurls again.

“Let her in,” Steve groans and she moves in, sticking her tongue out when he isn’t looking. She kneels down by the toilet, ignoring the smell, “can you–” he begins miserably before being sick again.

She’s not good at this, it’s on her tongue to say so, but he looks like he wants to die and the three kids behind him look like they want to go with him. She has to try. This is her fault. Taking a deep breath, she reaches forward and flushes the toilet. Her hand comes out and pushes through his hair, finding the spots on his skull. She closes her eyes and nudges again. Steve chokes and she bands her other hand around his chest, stabilizing his jaw. She feels and pulls, soothing the sharp edges of their connection she forced. She tries to cling to his determination, his goodness, all the things that seem so miraculous to her and are so natural to him. After a long moment, she releases him and they collapse onto the tiled, staring at each other.

When she goes to push herself up, his hand covers hers and he shakes his head.

She looks back at 011 who raises her chin and then turns, walking away. She pulls her hand back, knowing that he may have seen things that she didn’t want him to. She’s embarrassed, suddenly. Even though she doesn’t think she should be. She is. She licks her lips and tastes blood. He pushes himself up and grabs toilet paper. Instead of giving it to her he looks at her and she nods, letting him touch the paper to her upper lip. He tosses it into the bin and lays down. After a moment she scoots over, pulls his head into her lap.

“I don’t want to be like them,” she says, “I don’t want to be like this,” she shakes her head, “I don’t want to be stuck.”

“Me neither,” he says finally.

Kali closes her eyes and lets herself feel ashamed.

Steve grasps the hand she has settled on her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, she feels fear.

She wakes up with a stiff back and a Steve snoring in her lap. She’s as stuck as he is in a completely different way. She doesn’t know why she cares or even if she should. She probably shouldn’t. No, she definitely shouldn’t. The thrill it sends to her is dangerous on every level. Dangerous in a stupid way. She really does have to get out of this shit town. She folds a towel and replaces Steve’s head on it. She throws another one over him in case he gets cold and goes off to find his protector.

“We need to talk.”

A few hours later Steve comes out as they’re finished packing. He rubs at his eyes which are less bloodshot. His head still might be sore but he’s just going to have to deal. Dustin elbows her and she steps forward, handing him the two aspirin and the water. He takes them both silently, looking at her with confusion.

“So, I am sorry again for psychically attacking you,” she says, “they don’t make an apology card for that.”

“This works,” he says hoarsely and takes the pills.

“And,” she continues, “I’m leaving,” he pauses and sets down the glass. Her mouth goes dry at the stab of disappointment and hurt in his eyes. Emboldened she puts her chin in her hand, “but I can’t get there in time by myself, so, you’re going to have to come with me.”

He drops the glass.

“What?” He croaks, looking at the fragments on the floor, “I can’t just–”

“Drive off with a mysterious stranger?” She asks, “that’s odd because they say you can.”

Dustin grins and holds up his duffle bag. Steve stares at him and he nods encouragingly. He looks at her and she meets his gaze. They are both stuck, that’s been admitted even if it was under duress. She’s stuck in a way that she’s not sure she can ever undo. Even wants to undo. He’s stuck in a different way. One that seems so easy to fix for her. Maybe some part of him hopes that the way she’s stuck might be easy for him to fix too. She can see him thinking everything over and realizes she doesn’t want the embarrassment if he says no. She’d rather lick her wounds alone. She picks up her bag and slings it over her shoulder, stepping out on the road and shading her eyes. She flits with the idea of stealing his car and dismisses it. Though it would be a good lesson. By the time she turns around, though, it’s too late.

He’s there.

Something in her chest gives. He looks nervous as hell and she can’t blame him after the past day, but that stubborn look is in his eyes. This is why he’s not like his parents, because he refuses to be. It’s not the kind of thing that can be taught, not in time. But she can marvel at it anyway. He opens the trunk and puts his bag in, looking at her for a second before nodding. She drops her bag besides his and smiles daringly up at him, squinting in the bright light. Whatever catty thing she’s about to say is lost as he settles a pair of sunglasses on her nose.

“Better?” He rasps.

She stands on her toes and presses her lips to the corner of his mouth. Electricity shoots through her in a way it hasn’t before and her seems to jump with it too. For a moment she considers their connection might still be there, but she’s out of his head. The only thing that’s done this is the part of her that is very much like everyone else. She gets her smile up just in time, pressing her finger to his jaw.

“We’ll see.”