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superblysubpar · 6 months ago

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<- part seven | part nine -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Was it real?

the song: we can’t be friends by Ariana Grande

also for your listening pleasure: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, One More Night by Phil Collins, Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston, Who's Crying Now by Journey, I Ran (So Far Away) by A Flock of Seagulls, What About Love? by Heart, and Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon

5,839 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury, new injuries & blood / mentions of getting high, but not reader / douchery to the highest order in the form of Brendan - he ignores boundaries, doesn’t listen, and a physical fight ensues - I made it as brief and nondescript as possible, but take care of yourself and do not read if you find it could be triggering (I’ve marked the scene with Brendan between red lines, and all you’d need to know is Steve saves the day) | my blog is 18+

Somewhere near Cornwallis Street - Sunday

The screech of metal on metal continuing to alert you of his presence only makes your feet pick up their pace on the grass, pavement of the sidewalk too hot for your bare soles.

“Sweetheart, just get in the van. You’re wearing out my brakes, here.”

Eddie’s been trailing behind you for five minutes, calling out the open window to get you to look at him.

“You know,” he calls, pausing at the stop sign as you look at the empty intersection and begin to jog across hot tar, “You’re being a brat!”

“Excuse me?!”

Your foot twitches to stomp, like the thing he just called you, while fighting the urge to look at him as you continue down the neighborhood’s street.

“You heard me! Get in the fucking car. You gonna walk all the way across town without shoes on?”

“Yes!”

“Really?” He scoffs, “Okay. What happens when you get there and you’ve got no keys?”

Your feet slow, but you call out confidently, “I have a spare hidden.”

“Fucking stubborn,” he mumbles as he brakes and puts the car in park and hops out.

Eddie rounds the hood of his car, sneakers untied and black swim trunks dripping wet still, hair pulled into a low bun with curls falling out around his face. He glares at you with hands on his hips.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

“No!”

You do stomp your foot that time, and then make a break for it, a full out sprint to get around him.

It’s childish, is what it is. There’s no other way to describe the way you try to run away from him, literally, or the way he snakes his arms around you, shouting about what the hell your actual problem is. No other way to describe the way you swat at a hard chest doing absolutely nothing as tears start rolling down your cheeks again and you yell the word asshole at him.

“Me?! I’m the asshole?” Eddie’s fingers circle your wrists, stopping your useless attack. His brown eyes blink at you, “For what? For-“

“For lying to me, Eddie!” You shout it around a sob, knowing you’re leaning towards ugly snotting crying territory quickly. Your vision blurs as you keep going, “You manipulated me for Harrington. For some extra cash. For…for what?” Lips spitting words out around salty tears, “You started this whole fucking bet and-and you let him…why’d you do this? Why’d you-“

“Because hello!” Eddie shouts, letting your arms go and holding his out wide, “Breaking news to literally only you because the entire fucking planet can see it: You’re totally in love with the guy!”

“I’m no-“

“You are,” Eddie cuts you off, eyes soft but jaw hard. “And you were never gonna give him a chance without our help because, aside from him,” Eddie laughs and gestures down the road behind you, “You’re the most stubborn person on earth. You both set your sights on something and you won’t budge till you get it. And you…yours were set on hating his guts.”

Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you look away from him, refusing to admit he’s right and Eddie shakes his head, speaking softly now.

“And I don’t think you told yourself you were gonna hate Steve Harrington forever because of some moment when you were twelve. I think you decided you were gonna hate him, so there was never any chance the opposite could be true. Because if you hate him, you could never love him. And if you never love him, you can’t get hurt.”

A sob cracks your chest, head hung as tears fall and darken the pavement burning your feet. It only takes three drops for Eddie’s arms to wrap around you and five for you to wrap yours around him. He waits until his white cut off tee is plastered to his chest but no longer getting freshly damp to run a palm up and down your back and kiss the top of your head.

“Want some pie?”

Eddie makes a disgusted scoff as you swipe your nose on his shirt and then look down at your bare feet.

“Can we stop and get my shoes?”

He smiles, head nodding towards the van still idling next to you.

“Would Prince Charming show up at Cinderella’s doorstep without the glass slipper?”

Your eyes roll as Eddie walks you over to the van, helping you in as you pick up the shoes in the wheel well.

Eddie closes the door, face twisted in hesitation before he taps the open window frame and clears his throat.

“To be clear, so I don’t get accused of manipulating and lying again,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you duck your head as he softly tacks on, “I’m not Prince Charming in this scenario.” He nods at the shoes in your lap, “Before I could even think to follow you, Harrington was shoving those at my chest and telling me to.”

Your chin wobbles, lip quivering as you sniff and ward off a fresh wave of tears.

It doesn’t matter who brought them, not really. Because all that does matter is the fact that they’re here and you want to put them on and keep running.

Away from your arguably skewed view of the past. Away from this street and that house and the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body, the ache in your stomach and chest that you worry won’t ever go away.

Run far, so far that Eddie’s words can’t ever catch up and make you face them head on - admit the truth behind them.

All you can think about doing is running away from Steve Harrington, because that’s all you’ve ever done, but now, now there’s a small new thread.

A thread like the one in your skirt a week ago that you wonder if you keep pulling, you’ll find where it starts.

A thread that runs parallel to the feeling of needing to run away from him. One that makes you pick and pull and wonder:

If you keep running from him, will Steve ever give up trying to catch you? And if you stopped running, what happens when he does?

What happens when the chase is over?

Hawkins, Indiana - Monday A.B. (After Bet)

You’re not proud of it, on Monday morning when you call Keith and tell him you can’t come in, lying about being sick.

The feeling in your stomach as you move a shirt, a sweatshirt, and pajama pants to your dryer later that day makes you wonder if you were really lying though.

Rain tapping against your windows and the glow of the TV screen lull you to sleep on your couch.

You don’t dream about Steve Harrington.

And when a crack of thunder jolts you awake right when he’s not about to kiss you, you decide you’ll never watch a movie with Harrison Ford in it again.

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday A.B.

Your hand smacks the buttons of your radio as Cyndi Lauper’s voice croons out of the speakers, ironically the dark storm clouds from last night are fading to gray this morning as you drive to work.

Fingers rub soothing circles into your temple while the warm summer breeze blows through your open windows, placating you into calm energy until the radio lands on it’s next station.

“But if you change your mind, you know that I’ll be here. And maybe we both can learn…”

As you roll to a stop at a red light, you blink at your radio with a clenched jaw as Phil laments about getting one more night. Thankfully, the song is almost over, so when the light turns green, your shoulders roll back as your wheels go forward again.

But it seems the universe is out to get you, and soon Whitney’s voice is prying your already cracked chest open, voice filling every vulnerable nook and cranny it can find in your body.

“Nope!” You tell your radio, the universe, while your hands frantically grab for a mix out of your cupholder and shove it into the dash as you make the last turn onto Family Video’s street.

And if the Journey song isn’t enough to make you fall, as you turn into the parking lot, the sight of Steve is.

He looks up at the sound of your music and you quickly slam it off, able to feel the tiny people going to work inside your chest, shouting orders about reinforcements around your heart with the wall back standing.

Steve’s car is backed into a space, and he sits on the hood of it. He holds a to go coffee cup and a brown paper bag that he grips tighter as you get out of your car and walk past without looking at him.

“Honey-“

“Don’t.”

He says your name, feet scrambling behind you until you slow to a stop.

“That was a shitty way for me to tell you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were all…conspiring against-“

“But you were,” you interrupt, spinning to face him in a grave mistake. The leader inside of you shouting about more! You need more glue, more bricks, more! He’s too powerful! The walls are breaking again!

Steve’s hair is a mess, wild brown waves with zero product in it. Circles under pleading amber eyes and you’re fairly certain the shirt he’s wearing isn’t washed if the wrinkles and mustard stain are any indication.

It makes you feel guilty, but then you remember that you’re not sure what was real for him this last week. Not sure if any of it was, or if you were just the thing he had his sights set on winning - the thing he couldn’t have till he could.

He shakes his head but you hold up your hand, “Let’s just forget anything happened, okay?”

“Wh-what?” Steve blinks profusely and you look anywhere but his eyes, and freckles, and neck, and-

“I just want to…forget it. Let’s just be coworkers who share friends again, okay?”

“We…you don’t even want to be friends?” His voice cracks and you blink your own eyes too many times, feeling a sting behind them.

“I…I can’t be your friend Ste-“ your voice wobbles and you correct, “Harrington.”

Your fingers fiddle with the strap of your bag and his crinkle the brown bag in his hand and you both stand there, staring at the sidewalk for what feels like forever.

“I s’pose you don’t want these then,” he offers the items up limply, before he walks over to the trash and tosses them. He clears his throat and calls over his shoulder, “Have a good shift, co-worker.”

His fingers slide on the bridge of his nose as he gets into his car, but it’s no use. You don’t see him crying because you’re walking into the store, and he doesn’t see you crying, because his vision is too blurry to see much of anything.

The truth of the matter is, you can’t be friends with Steve.

Because you’d rather be so much more than friends.

But if you’re more than friends with Steve Harrington, it was only a matter of time before something, someone, new came along. A new challenge and thing to chase after.

You’re swiping at your eyes still as you get into the back room, greeted by an apologetic looking Robin and Keith slurping on yogurt.

“Good thing you called in yesterday,” he speaks around the pink snack in his mouth, “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you snap sarcastically, dropping your bag on the table which wobbles when you do.

“Huh,” Keith gets up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he walks over and shakes the table. He pops it out and holds the spoon at it accusingly, “Who broke the table?”

Your body heats up remembering Steve laying on top of you on it, the way he felt between your legs, the way he-

“I did!” Robin scrambles up from her chair, waving her hand over it and talking too fast, “I’ll pay for it! I’ll work extra shifts! I’ll-“

“She didn’t break it.” You look at Robin who you’re worried may offer to sell her own soul if she thinks you’re mad at her. You’re not, though you do wonder how she knows about the table. “I did.

Keith kicks it and mumbles a ‘whatever’, tossing the yogurt cup into the trash can and licking his fingers free from the creamy substance as he talks, “How was Harrington?”

“Wh-what?”

“Harrington?” Keith raises his eyebrows, hooking his thumb at Robin, “I can’t trust a thing she says, the traitor’s best friends with him.”

“He…” Robin looks at you with a pout, pleading blue eyes and you sigh, “He was actually really good. Did extra work. Did the whole shipment by himself…he was…he was great.”

Keith nods, eyes narrowed at you and then shrugs. “Whatever, he’s the new full time guy then. Spread the good news Buckley.”

Robin’s eyes squeeze shut in a wince as you shout, “What?!”

Keith is already walking out into the front of store and you trail behind him as he explains, “We needed a replacement for Tracy. This week was a trial run for Harrington. Thought he told you?”

“He…” you trail off, remembering your first shift with him last week, “He said it was while you looked for the replacement.”

Keith starts stacking tapes and Robin starts bringing them to shelves as he rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but why would I go through the trouble of posting the job, interviewing, and training a new person when one of my employees wants it?”

“But-but, I’ll do it! I’ll interview and train! You don’t have to do a thing! I’ll-“

“What’s the issue, I thought you said he was great? Give me a reason and I won’t give him the position.”

Keith blinks at you, bored, and Robin holds her breath next to you.

This means Steve and you working together most days.

This means watching him flirt and date and parade around Hawkins with every girl other than you for the foreseeable future.

This means you’ll never outrun Steve Harrington.

Robin raises her eyebrows at you and clears her throat as Keith snaps his fingers in your face, which you plaster a smile on to.

“Give Harrington the job, what do I care?”

You spend the rest of your shift silent, listening to Keith explain to you how he wants the big fourth of July display to go and reminding Robin to tell Steve he can be in charge of the park, like he asked, whatever that means.

You stopped listening the minute his name was mentioned and focused on finding every movie with fireworks in it.

Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday A.B.

You’re balancing on the window’s ledge, one hand holding the display of Patrick Swayze up and the other reaches for the tape that’s just out of reach on the shelf.

The tips of your fingers brush it as you stretch another centimeter and a huff falls past your lips when you can’t get it. You rise up onto your toes, craning just a little bit further when you start to lose your footing.

Large hands catch your waist from behind, holding you up. In the process of steadying you, your shirt rose, and Steve’s fingers now rest against your bare skin.

His hand lingers on your lower back as he reaches for the tape and hands it to you, both returning to your waist as you tape Johnny & Baby to the window.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat, realizing it’s the first word that’s been spoken in several hours.

Steve just hums from behind you before he lets his hands fall, the sound of his feet dragging on carpet only just louder than your heartbeat.

It isn’t fair, to know how his lips feel against yours.

It isn’t fair, to know how he looks without his shirt off.

It isn’t fair, to know how good it feels to come around his fin-

The chime of the door pulls you from your self-sabotaging thoughts, the scent of peaches almost immediately overpowering.

Blonde ringlets bounce as long legs approach the counter where he leans over a clipboard.

“Hi there,” her voice so sugary sweet it makes your stomach ache.

“Hi, welcome to…H-hi,” he stands, clearing his throat.

She pouts and leans across the counter, fingers traveling up his arms and making yours erupt in flames.

“You never called me, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

Something came up.

Your scoff is loud, loud enough to have both of their heads turning, so you face the window again, putting pieces of tape aimlessly on the back of the posters.

“That’s okay,” Brit assures, syrupy and sighing, “But how are you gonna make it up to me?”

“Oh, well, I…”

“Hey, Steve?” You call, looking over your shoulder.

He blinks at you, Brit’s fingers on his forearm now and swirling circles into it. “Ye-yeah?”

“I’m out of tape,” you respond sharply.

“And?” His brows furrow at you.

“Can you get me some more, or are you too busy not doing your job?”

His eyes narrow under furrowed brows but then he turns to Brit, voice low and daring to sound smooth now, “Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to work, but I promise I’ll call this time?”

Brit smiles, gives a nod and a little wave with her fingers and then the scent of peaches is replaced with cedar and mint.

You smack another piece of tape haphazardly to the window.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” His voice comes from right behind you, and you don’t dare turn around and face him.

“You have that tape?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs, handing a roll over your shoulder, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “Looks like you missed a spot.”

“Thanks,” voice biting as your fingers yank the tape from his.

He snorts, hand pressing to the glass next to your waist, “I seriously cannot believe you have the audacity to be jealous.”

Your knees wobble as you spin and he steadies you again, hands on your hips and just low enough for you to look down at where your bodies press together as you swallow. Steve raises his eyebrows at you, expectantly, waiting.

“What? You want a reward for using audacity correctly in a sentence?”

Steve’s jaw pulses, his forehead furrows again, but then you tack on, “And I’m not jealous.”

His fingers squeeze involuntarily and he shakes his head slowly.

“There you go again, what’d I say about that, huh?”

Chests heave with each of your intense breaths, his tongue wets his lip as you swallow and push against the glass behind you.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” you respond quietly as Steve’s fingers brush back and forth under the hem of your shirt. “I hate you.”

Steve’s eyes shift in color, darker, like the forest is being covered with storm clouds as he shakes his head no again, “Quit,” he takes a deep breath, exhaling the word as he tilts his chin, “Lying.”

The chime above the door rings and Robin’s honey tinted waves are bouncing under it as she looks around. Steve takes a step back from you, pink cheeked and swallowing, hands shaking a little as you quickly climb down.

Your eyes avoid his as you grab your bag and wave to Robin, mumbling something about seeing her tomorrow.

You’re not even surprised at the lyrics that fill your car when you start it.

“I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day…

I couldn’t get away.”

Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday A.B.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Thunder booms overhead when you ask, like it’s protesting this conversation.

Robin sits on top of the counter across from where you lean, tossing skittles in the air and catching them.

Or well, trying to catch them.

A yellow one evades her and joins a green and blue one on the floor as she says, “Shoot.”

Your fingers fiddle with the button on your vest that says ‘May The Force Be With You’ as Robin foregos throwing and starts to dump the bag directly into her mouth.

“How…” your arms cross as you sigh and squint out the window at the gloomy evening, “How’d you become friends?”

“Wha?” She asks around rainbow goo, blue eyes blinking rapidly as your nose wrinkles at the sight.

She swallows quickly and waves her hands for you to elaborate, “What?”

“How’d you become friends…” you swallow down the butterflies that ache to come out just from saying his name, “With Steve?”

“Oh,” she says, softly.

“We just,” you’re back to fiddling with buttons, with the keys of the computer, “We never really talked about it, y’know? Like you hated his guts just like me and then all of a sudden you were tricking us into movies together. And getting him this job. Helping him with…”

The unspoken activities of last week hang in the air and she smiles tightly.

“Right, um, well,” she scratches at the back of her neck, legs swinging as she blows out a breath. “We worked together, at Scoops, remember?”

You nod as she continues to ramble, talking with her hands and skittles spilling on the floor as she does, “And well, aside from making me laugh all summer and actually being not so terrible at conversation and listening like I’d pegged him for, there was this one night, where we got a little high and he…we were playing truth or dare.”

She trails off and looks at you, pink cheeks and biting her lip and you stand up straighter.

“You what? You didn’t…”

“No!” Robin shudders, she waves her hands, “Absolutely not! He…” She groans and looks out the door and hops down, pacing as she mumbles, “Gonna freaking kill me.”

“What?”

“Uggh! I asked him if he’d ever been in love.”

Your heart beats erratically, like it’s trying to keep up with the constant pelt of rain against the pavement, like each thump is trying to break you from the inside out.

“And? His answer made you become best friends for life?”

Robin shrugs, “Sort of, yeah.” She smiles, avoiding your eyes as she fiddles with the skittles wrapper. “This guy who seemed so high and mighty, so douchey, so…well, you know how he is,” she waves a hand with a laugh, “After a Summer of proving all of that wrong, making me eat my judging ways, this dingus goes and tells me that he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but he’s pretty sure he felt it holding this girl’s hand on a ferris wheel when he was twelve.”

Robin tosses the wrapper in the trash with a sigh, “And I don’t know. I folded. Now, whenever he says something dumb, whenever he’s an idiot, all I see is a guy laying on my floor telling me that. All I see when I look at him is this front covering up for a kid who thinks love is holding a girl’s hand. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?”

“Did,” you start quietly, almost so quiet you’re not sure you’re even saying anything. The words muffled by rain and thunder and your heartbeat,

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

“What?” She asks, wrinkles deepening under parted bangs. “No, absolutely not. He told me if I ever told anyone that my ass was grass.” She snorts and rolls her eyes.

Robin never knew how you met Steve. She never knew why you hated him, you just bonded over the fact that you did.

She frowns at you, “Why do you as…oh shit.”

You’re certain she’s connected the dots you already have but then she’s looking over your shoulder and your mouth is parting at the sight of who’s running with his jacket over his head towards the store.

He shakes out hair as the door chimes, swiping at his eyes as he starts up and down the aisles, searching and your hands start to shake.

“Go in the back room, I can manage till he’s gone,” she says softly behind you, nudging you towards the back of the store and away from the man dressed in a nice suit squinting at new releases.

Your head nods as you quickly and as quietly as possible make a break for it.

But then you trip on the Predator cut out and his voice sounds just like it did all those years ago.

“Well, what do we have here?”

“Hi,” you scramble to your feet, floundering with the cut out pieces as you mumble his name, “Brendan.”

He tilts his head at you and has the nerve to smile at you, “Thought that was you! You look…”

Your body warms under his appraisal, his hold nothing back rake of his eyes over you from head to toe and back up. Only hotter when he says, “Different.”

“You…” your mouth is dry, suddenly able to recall all the things you’d planned to say to him if you ever saw him again. A plan to rub all of your success in his face, hopes of having another beer to toss.

Brendan squints at you, then around the store. He scoffs, “So…this is what you’re doing, huh?”

You’re faintly aware of the door chiming as you take a step away from him, back pressed to the shelves as he takes a step towards you, arm caging you in. “What’s a girl like you, still working in a place like this, babe?”

Why can this guy do this to you? How does he make you feel so small?

“Don’t…don’t call me that.”

Your head shakes, but that seems to be about the only thing your body remembers how to do.

Brendan pouts his lips, mistaking your breathless panic as being smitten, as being nervous around him for a totally different reason. “You used to like it.”

He touches your waist and in your peripheral you see Robin take a step towards the phone as he speaks lowly, “You know, I never thanked you.

After you threw that beer at me and he kicked my ass, I actually took it seriously. Passed Biology, graduated. I work at a law firm now.”

His hand runs up your waist, squeezing just below your ribs as he leans in, “I feel like I should take you out, to say thank you, babe.”

Your mouth parts, but someone else beats you to it.

“Pretty sure she made it clear not to call her that.”

Brendan backs away from you, if only slightly, to look at Steve standing at the end of the aisle.

“Seriously? Go ring up my rental,” Brendan snorts, tossing the tape at him harshly before he turns back to you. “Where were we, babe?”

Steve’s reflexes let him catch it, while he glares and grits through clenched teeth, “Call her that one more time, see what happens.”

“I’m not a drunk high schooler anymore Harrington, don’t think I have anything to worry about. Right bab-“

Steve’s fist connects with Brendan’s jaw, sending him staggering away from you. Steve’s eyes are on you, frantic as he breathes heavily and pants out, “Are you oka-shit!”

Brendan barrels into Steve, knocking him down to the ground, fists connecting with his stomach and the side of his head.

You shout out both of their names, shoving at Brendan to get off of Steve who coughs after the hits stop coming.

Brendan staggers to a stand, swiping at a bloody nose and spitting at Steve. You stand and shove at his chest, “Get out! Before we call the cops on you, you arrogant, pathetic-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brendan waves you off, “Fucking deserve each other.”

The door swings shut behind him, and you stare ahead, breathing heavily, sure it’s the rain running down the glass making your vision blur.

“Steve?” Robin’s on the ground next to his head.

He moans, but motions for her to help him up as you turn back around, so she swats at his chest, “Why’d you do that! What is wrong with you? He could have killed you, you idiot!”

“Christ Robin,” he grumbles, “I’m fine, just-hey.”

Steve’s over to you in two steps, bloodied and bruised hands cupping your cheeks and swiping at them.

Even through blurred vision, you can see the bright reds and darkening purple on his forehead, your fingers brush the scrape that’s just above the two freckles on his cheek.

“Thanks,” you hiccup out of a sob trying to break.

“Of course,” he murmurs, thumbs still brushing over your cheeks gently, “What are…” he swallows, “What are friends for?”

The sob cracks just as the thunder does and Steve shakes his head, eyes big and worried, “Hey, hey, come on, that asshole is not worth these and I’m not either and-“

“St-Steve,” you sniffle, interrupting him. Trying to reign in all the extremely big feelings that have been held back for a long time, “Will you drive me home?”

He looks surprised but quickly nods, “Yeah, yeah of course honey.”

“Steve, I really don’t think you should be dri-“

Robin’s hesitation cut off from the look he gives her and answered only with her eye roll.

Your hands shake in your lap, fingers playing with the seams of your jeans as Steve drives silently. The radio plays softly, lost in the rain pelting the windshield and the swoosh of the wipers getting it off. It’s only when you make it to your street that you finally are brave enough to talk again.

“How,” you clear your throat, sniffling away any residual tears, “How are you doing? With the storm I mean?”

“Oh,” Steve nods, frowning at the road, “Yeah, good.”

“Was that…was it real?” Gaze falling to your lap as you dare to ask.

“What?” He stops at an intersection, looking over at you, ducking his head to catch your gaze. “What do you mean? The storms? There’s no way, you gave them too much credit. Those kids are smart, but they’re not that smart.”

“No, I mean…are you even afraid of storms? Or was that just another part of the plan? Was it real?”

Steve blinks at you until a horn honks behind him and he nods as he pulls away, “Yeah, yeah it was real.”

You nod and he looks at your profile as you stare out the windshield, tear stained cheeks and bottom lip bitten raw, your hands won’t stop fiddling with things. When he pulls into the parking lot of the complex, he faces you.

“Is that why you won’t talk to me? You won’t even be my friend? Because you think it wasn’t real?”

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, heart beating harder than it ever has as Steve shakes his head. He reaches for you, but hesitates, murmuring a plead.

“Please look at me honey?”

Your exhale is shaky, eyes watery again as you do what he’s asked. Heart’s What About Love starts playing. You close your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as you swipe at your cheeks.

When you open them again, Steve is watching you carefully, and he speaks so softly, so sincerely, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear what he has to say.

“Everything was real. Eddie let me take you to the diner and Robin put on Peter Gabriel, but that’s it. I swear, honey. How you reacted to those things, what I said, what you said, all of it, was real. And I thought, at my house, I thought it was clear how much I want you.”

Tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as you nod, “Okay, but, what happens if you only want me because you can’t have me?”

“What?” Steve looks at you, frowning, eyes glassy.

Your hands swipe at your eyes as you shrug again. “What happens when you get what you were chasing, but another, more challenging want, comes along?”

He swallows, looks up at you with his own watery eyes, “You really think that’s all I want? Do you hate me that much?”

Images of your hand in his on a ferris wheel stir in your mind, of what could have happened after you threw that beer in Brendan’s face, images of a kiss and another kiss and another until you’re crying again.

As you lean over the console, you whisper against his skin before pressing a kiss to the two freckles on his cheek.

“Never hated you.”

You’re quick to climb out of his car, and run through the rain up your stairs and slam the door on the storm. Your back falls against it as you suck in a breath and cry, the lamp and radio flicking on as you do.

Heart’s song that was just playing in his car stops, and a familiar tune starts playing. It’s melody making you think of Steve between shelves, whistling. Making you think of a pool table in a basement on Cornwallis Street.

Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you try to get your breathing under control.

What if Steve Harrington has been chasing you all these years, but it’s never been about the chase, he just didn’t know you kept changing the rules and finish line on him? What if all he’s ever wanted was to run the race alongside you?

Robin’s voice accompanies REO Speedwagon’s, making you spin towards the door.

Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?

As you fling the door open, wondering if you can catch him, Steve’s fist raises to pound on it.

He stands on the stoop, rain pouring down, making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyes squint.

“Give me one more chance,” he breathes heavily, his car lights and wipers still going from the space below.

The music from inside your apartment plays loudly as he takes a step towards you and keeps pleading.

“I’ll literally get on my knees right now, honey. I am begging you, to give me one chance. One date. No help from Eddie or Robin. Nobody. Just me, and you. Let me prove it’s real. Let me prove it to you?”

It’s the moment right before a storm starts, when it’s like the earth is taking a deep breath of, soaking up the silence before it won’t get a chance of clam again for who knows how long.

He blinks at you through rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes, squinting under a bruised forehead and pouting through kissable lips. Your voice wobbles even after you shove the butterflies back down, giving them no chance to escape, not yet.

“Ask me nicely.”

BICFTF TAGLIST: Thank you SO much 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #cw injury #cw blood #cw marijuana

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afewproblems · 1 year ago

Text

Season 2 Halloween AU Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

A very big thank you to @strangersteddierthings for chatting with me today and being such a great sounding board for the next update!

Synopsis: What if Eddie had been at Tina's Halloween Party in Season Two? Featuring Steve!Whump, Stancy Breakup, and Eddie just trying to keep up with all these new revelations about who King-Steve actually is...

***

"So…I have to ask," Eddie blurts out, cutting through the awkward silence that has fallen between them, "how were you gonna pick up your car before you ran into me?"

"I don't think it counts as running into you, if you were waiting for me Munson," Steve side steps the question expertly, flashing him a strange smirk that seems out of place. It falls after a second and twists into something pained.

"I was hoping Nance would take me," Steve says eventually, his voice soft, "which was pretty stupid in hindsight, 'specially cuz she was counting on me to drive her this morning, which--"

Steve cuts himself, snapping his mouth shut with a harsh click of teeth, he shakes his head and lifts his hand to run roughly through his hair.

"Doesn't matter anymore".

Eddie holds his breath, feeling the conversation begin to shift. It's as though he's stepped onto a tightrope and any wrong move could potentially send him over the edge.

He settles for nodding once, turning the key in the ignition.

Steve sighs and lets himself fall back into his seat, "I know you know already, the whole fucking school does, Billy saw to that," Steve gestures to his face, "say what you really want to ask".

Eddie's fingers tighten around the wheel as he turns them out of the parking lot, fighting the immediate urge to say, 'why did Miss Priss throw it all away?'

"You think I believe the rumours that come out of that shithole?" Eddie lies, keeping his eyes on the road this time.

He can feel Steve's unimpressed stare as they continue down mainstreet.

"Right, so you had no clue I was in detention?"

Eddie chews the inside of his cheek to fight the sly grin that begins to creep over his face, "Alright smart ass".

He hazards another glance at Steve as they begin to hit the residential area, he looks so different from the night before.

His limbs are loose, tension free, if it weren't for the heavy bags under Steve's eyes and the nervous tap of his fingers on the passenger door, Eddie would think he was finally relaxed.

"I knew a fight definitely happened, it's Hargrove," Eddie says slowly, carefully weighing his words, "but I typically prefer to hear the whole sordid story from the source before I pass any judgements, ya know?"

Steve doesn't say anything as they continue driving through residential the houses getting progressively bigger as they go.

"Did you," Steve pauses and breathes out slowly before shaking his head and lifting his face to meet Eddie's gaze, "is that offer for something stronger still open?"

Eddie smiles, "I think that can be arranged".

***

Eddie pulls over beside Tina Cline's house, wincing as the right front tire rolls over the curb and bounces the van as it lands on the street once more, startling a snort out of Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Harrington," Eddie huffs as Steve shoots him a grin.

"Didn't say a word," Steve hums, unbuckling himself from the seat. Eddie watches as he opens the door and hops out. For a moment Eddie worries Steve will pull the same disappearing act from last night but he simply stops beside his car door and motions for Eddie to roll down his window.

Eddie cracks his door open instead, "window's broken, what?"

Steve rolls his eyes, "whatever Munson, you know the way? It's north on 5th and--"

"Then two more rights, yeah man," Eddie says with a laugh in his voice, "I dropped you off remember?"

"Fuck off," Steve huffs out, he's grinning though.

Steve swings the Beemer’s door open and slides in. He turns on the ignition and flinches at the loud burst of music from the stereo, the volume obviously set from the mood of the previous night.

'I want to know what love is, I want you to show me--'

Steve slams his hand against the console, cutting off the song with a harsh crack.

The van is parked just behind the Beemer so Eddie can't see Steve's face, but his head drops down onto the wheel for just the briefest moment before he slowly lifts it, turns on his signal and pulls away from the curb.

***

Steve beats him to the house.

He's getting out of the car, which is parked on the long driveway as Eddie pulls up to the street.

Eddie hops out of the van, hiking his backpack higher up on his shoulders, not bothering to lock it. Who would even want his shitty van among the BMWs and Mercedes parked down this street --hell, Eddie could have sworn he saw a Jag three houses down.

Eddie stops short of the lawn. The Harrington house is so different in the light of day, the strange emptiness that seemed to ooze out of the dark windows the night before has disappeared, leaving an ordinary house in its wake.

"Well?" Steve calls out as he pulls a pair of keys from his back pocket and spins them once on his finger, "you coming or what Munson?"

Eddie rolls his eyes and jogs to catch up to Steve who turns on his heel to stride up the walk. He stuffs the key into the deadbolt and swings one of the double doors inwards before shucking off his sneakers.

No shoes? Fucking rich people man.

Steve must notice Eddie's expression because he blushes and shrugs, "I know, I know, but my parents will be home for Thanksgiving this year so…may as well…"

He gestures around the sterile foyer with a tight smile, as though it explains everything.

If anything, Eddie has more questions.

Steve cuts off the thought by clearing his throat, "we should smoke outside, last thing I need is for you to burn a hole in the couch or something".

Eddie steps over the threshold and has to stop himself from whistling, were the ceilings always this high in this place?

He lifts his foot to unlace his left chuck, snorting at the strange little table in the middle of the foyer. A giant vase sits atop it filled with a mixture of what have to be silk flowers --no way they were real. He pulls the shoe off and tosses it to the side before lifting his right foot.

Eddie never had the greatest balance so he hops back and forth with his right foot in the air before hopping as close as he can to the wall of the foyer and leaning back against it.

He finally gets the knot in his laces undone and throws the sneaker to the floor, dropping his right foot to the hardwood.

Eddie looks up to find Steve staring with a bemused expression on his face, he ignores the wide hazel eyes and removes the backpack from his shoulders -which can't have been helping the balance issue.

Eddie unzips the top and yanks out the trusty metal lunchbox, sliding a wicked grin into place.

"You said something about outside?"

***

By the time they've settled, facing one another on a couple of pool loungers, the sun has begun to dip low, painting the patio and empty pool a warm glowing copper. It catches Steve's hair, which shines like gold in the dying sunlight, like some Autumnal Fae King--

Eddie wants to slap himself, suddenly thankful for the November wind that cuts through the backyard, forcing him to chillout.

He picks up the grinder from his lunchbox, unscrewing the cap to open it.

"You good with a joint this evening my good King?"

He pours a handful of a new strain Rick let him try the other day into the grinder and starts twisting. It's not something he would typically share with anyone other than Jeff, but Steve seemed like he could use something a little more special tonight.

Eddie looks up after a beat of silence, "yo, Major Tom, you with me?"

Steve's face is pinched, tilted towards the empty pool, "please don't call me that," he says quietly.

"Major Tom?"

Steve raises his eyes to meet Eddie's gaze, his mouth cuts a hard line across his face, the typical easy grin it usually houses is gone.

"King-Steve," he runs a hand through his hair, letting the fingers linger to grip and pull, "I just, that's not who I am anymore, I don't--"

Steve swallows harshly, "that's all anyone could talk about this morning".

He drops his voice and octave, "oh, King Steve is so pussy whipped he let his girl fuck Jonathan Byers before she dumped him".

"Is that what Hargrove said?" Eddie asks quietly as he pours out a portion of weed onto a paper.

Steve shakes his head, "that was Tommy, but that wasn't why I hit him".

Eddie nods, and lifts the joint to his mouth to run his tongue along the edge of the paper. Steve watches him from the lounger, his eyes follow the movement before he blinks and continues.

"Tommy and I had been best friends since we were five, he uh, he knows a lot about me," Steve lifts his hand to his mouth and chews the nail of his thumb briefly before dropping it back into his lap.

"Stuff I don't tell anyone, stuff he knows will hurt".

Eddie nods, twisting the joint closed, he can kind of understand that, although the only person in his life that knew him like that was Wayne.

And Wayne would never hurt him.

Did Steve really not have anyone else like that in his life, someone he could tell anything to that wouldn't look at him weird or judge him. Someone safe.

"Anyway, Hargrove started in on me after that, but he's been fucking with me for awhile so," Steve shrugs again, "he saw his big opportunity here".

"Hargrove's been messing with you?" Eddie asks sharply as he pours more weed onto another paper. He lifts it and runs his tongue along the edge of the paper before twisting it into shape. When he looks up, Steve's ears have gone slightly pink and he's sitting strangely, slightly hunched and twisted.

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment, he clears his throat and straightens his back, "yeah, it's just been at practice so far, and I thought it was just because he wanted to one up me for my spot but," he shakes his head, "it's getting worse".

"You know, I have a bit of a reputation around school," Eddie says slowly, carefully, watching as Steve freezes and looks at Eddie with wide eyes.

"The Hellfire club is more than just the game we're playing, it's also kind of a sanctuary for kids that don't have anyone to lean on, we look after each other," Eddie continues, ignoring the way Steve relaxes slightly, "you wouldn't need to play or anything but if you need somewhere to sit at lunch now…"

Steve looks at Eddie for a long time, his expression blank, guarded, "really? Just like that?"

"Yeah man, besides I get to use my 'Mean and Scary Guy' persona on these fuckers so it's a win-win for me".

Steve grins, raising one skeptical eyebrow, "mean and scary?"

Eddie bristles a little bit at the questioning tone in Steve's voice and can't quite swallow the urge to snarl, "yeah I mean you looked plenty scared of the town freak yesterday".

Steve winces and immediately starts to shake his head, inching forward in his seat so he's even closer to Eddie, their knees are almost touching.

"That's not, I wasn't," he stops and takes a deep breath, "I was upset about Nancy and it was so dark outside, the trees--"

"You afraid of the dark Harrington?" Eddie cuts him off, the lingering irritation still simmers in his voice as he coos.

Steve just looks at him, there's something strange about the haunted expression on his face that makes the hair on the back of Eddie's arms stand on end.

"Things happen in the dark, in the woods," Steve says softly, his eyes drift to the empty pool again.

Eddie opens his mouth to ask Steve what the hell he means by that, when a voice shouts across the yard.

"Steve? STEVE?!"

The sound of someone running through the grass has them both of their feet, the joints forgotten on the pool loungers.

"Dustin?"

A kid, he can't be more than twelve or thirteen, skids into the porchlight that has replaced the last copper rays of evening light, the sun fully set by now. The kid's blue eyes are wide underneath a mop of curly hair and hat, he's breathing hard.

"I need your help".

Tag List: @eriquin @luvinthefreaks @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @goodolefashionedloverboi @ellietheasexylibrarian @bambibiest @sadboislovebeans @howincrediblysapphicofyou @coleys-a-nerd @whycantiuseunderscore @airconditioning123 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @corrodedbisexual @starman-jpg @ilovecupcakesandtea @yoriposts @clumsiluni @pelinelin @phantomcat94 @lololol-1234 @anaibis @airconditioning123 @steveshairspray @hellfireone @sunswathe @eddielives1986 @tentativeghost @robin-not-batman @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium @tinyplanet95 @perseus-notjackson

Part Five

and for some peeps that I think may be interested! @steddierthings @steddie-there @steves-strapcollection @outpastthebrakers @henderdads @stevesbipanic

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