#this chap is truly horrific but what can u do truly!

[skullrock]

the campers, chapter four - Steve x Reader

gif by @harringtown​

chapter four: the routine

series summary: Steve gets a job as a camp counselor at Camp Know Where, intending on using the summer to discover himself. When things start to go wrong at camp, the only people that can help him are the Party, Hopper, and his mortal enemy - you. [Enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort]

chapter summary: The first week of camp is in full swing, bringing a few surprises with it.

warnings: swearin’!

word count: 4k (hehe)

a/n: this chapter encompasses the time span of a week so it’s a lil long and has some stuff happening but I hope you enjoy! things are spicin’ up but not like you’d expect! you can catch up on the series here! (ps Hop didn’t die in s4 because I said so <3)

===

Camp Know Where buzzes with excitement as the new campers file in on Monday. This is Steve’s first ever orientation - well, besides the one he just went through. He’s never been in a position like this, and he’s nervous as he checks people in. But it’s an easy job.

Until the Party walks in.

Steve stares at them all, mouth agape. El, Mike, Max, Lucas, Will - they’re all here, all carrying bags. Mike takes the lead, glaring tensely at Steve, as usual. Steve avoids him and looks at El. “Are you allowed to be here?”

She nods. “Hop’s letting me.”

Steve shakes his head and finds their names on the roster. He should have known, should have seen their names, but it’s actually a nice surprise. Well, except for Mike. But he’s happy everyone else is here.

“Where’s Dustin?” Lucas asks.

“Helping with move in.” Steve looks up. “Does he know you’re here?”

“It’s a surprise,” Will says, beaming.  

“That’s nice,” Steve says slowly. “Well, don’t be dickheads, okay? Don’t make my job harder for me.”

El shakes her head, but Mike scoffs, “You’re a counselor?”

Steve gestures to his shirt. “Did you think I just disappeared for the past two weeks?”

“I hoped so.”

Max hits his arm. “Come on, let’s go.”

They all step past the table, and Steve puts his head in his hands. They’re gonna kill me, he thinks. A part of him is really happy they’re here, though. He’s not sure if that means he really is fond of them, or if he’s just happy that he can keep them safe here. He straightens and continues helping others check in, directing them to their cabins.

You come up a while later, suppressing a smile as you approach him. He looks flustered, perfected hair now a mess. His cheeks are red and his brows are furrowed as he tries to figure out how many more kids are left to come in.

“How’s it going?” you ask.

He looks up and smiles softly. “So great.”

“It’s not all this boring,” you explain. “Or stressful. It’ll be fun soon, I promise.”

He rolls his eyes playfully. “You better not be lying to me.”

“What if I am?”

He thinks for a moment. “I’ll flip your kayak.”

You laugh - a loud, ringing laugh. Steve smiles, pleased to have earned it from you. He wants your friendship to go smoothly, he wants you to like him. After yesterday’s confrontation and subsequent confession of enjoyment, he was starting to think maybe it was going to work out. Maybe you both weren’t going to dislike each other.

You straighten, still smiling down at him. “I’d like to see you try, Steve.” You knock twice on the table he’s at. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Steve nods, and you linger for just a second longer before heading off.

===

Steve continues to surprise you through the first week.

Though you still don’t get the appeal of him, you notice that many of the campers love going to see him for their intramurals. And he’s really good at teaching kids how to dodge a ball, or serve, or kayak. You’d never seen nerds so excited to interact with a jock, but they were, and it was actually heartwarming to see. You watched from the sidelines on your breaks as Steve helped teach kids tennis and soccer, his face red from the sun but beaming. He’d pause to wave at you before continuing, and you had a hard time prying yourself away from the scene. It was like it was in his nature to be a teacher, to care after others - and you’d never really seen that in a preppy jock before.

You also never expected a guy like Steve, known jerk, to be so good at interacting with kids.

You’re walking along the shore before dinner on Thursday when you hear shouts coming from the lake. You squint as you look out before seeing the source.

Steve had taught the kids a new game on the kayaks. They’d pass a ball with their paddles back and forth, and if they could get the ball into the seat of their opponent, they got a point. It was probably extremely dangerous, but the kids had fun, and so did he. He was soaked to the bone after every game, but his face hurt from laughing, and that was enough.

You watch from the shore as he and three other campers play, and you shake your head. Another counselor, Mia, comes up behind you and laughs. “He’s pretty popular, huh?”

“Always has been,” you say, turning to face her.

“He’s nice to watch, isn’t he?” She stands on her tiptoes to look past you. “I could watch that man’s arms for days.” You roll your eyes, and she frowns. “You don’t think so?”

You sigh. “He’s just… Steve. I don’t get the appeal.”

“You’re the only one, it seems,” she says, smiling again. “What is he, your villain origin story?”

It’s surprising how accurate the phrasing is. “It’s complicated.”

She shrugs. “You seem to get along well now, at least. Put in a good word for me, yeah?”

Your words catch in your throat as she walks away. 

Part of you does like Steve. You find enjoyment in him - he’s goofy, he’s funny, he’s kind, and he’s smart. But he’s also the person who made you cry every summer. He’s your childhood bully - how could you enjoy his company? You confuse yourself with your own feelings. It’s like mental gymnastics, trying to hang on to your anger and resentment while equally wanting to like him.

You shake your thoughts out of your head and walk off the shore, away from Steve and his charm.

===

The week ends on Friday, leaving everyone exhausted. The Party kept Steve busy when he wasn’t leading intramurals, draining him fully of his energy. They were going to watch a movie with Suzie in one of the recreation rooms, leaving Steve by himself. He was worn and tired, sunburnt and hot. But he still jogged up to you when he sees you after dinner.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around to face him, a friendly smile crossing your face as he comes up.

“Hey,” he says. “Haven’t talked to you in a while.”

“Just since Monday.”

He shrugs. “Felt like a long time.”

There’s a silence before you clear your throat. “How was your week?”

A wide smile spreads over his face. “It was amazing!”

You let him gush, because you’re genuinely interested. He tells you about how easy it is for him to talk to the campers, how he created Kayak Ball (“still working on a better name”), and how he’d made some friends with other counselors. Which leads him to ask, “Are you going to the bonfire tonight?”

Shit.

The annual First Friday Bonfire was tonight, and you’d forgotten all about it. It was usually a very spiritual experience - people would write stories from their past, things that bother them, share it to the group, and then burn the paper in the flames. It was like a reawakening - fire is cleansing, after all. Just last year, you’d wrote about the Steve standing in front of you, hair disheveled and grinning dorkily. You burned the paper and went on with your life.

You never expected he’d be here. It’s a bit mind-boggling.

“Yeah,” you say. “Are you?”

“If you are,” he says, suddenly uncertain. “I don’t really know -”

“Steve, everyone here loves you. You’ve made friends.” You hope the bitterness you feel isn’t being translated into your tone. “You can hang out with these people. They like you.”

He nods, frowning. “I know. It’s just….” He sighs heavily. “I’ve never had people… like me before.”

Your stomach falls as you remember what he had told you about - how he hadn’t talked to Tommy since junior year. These were the first adults he had interacted with in years; he was bound to be nervous.

“I’ll be there.” You reach out and squeeze his shoulder. “But you don’t need me. Everyone here thinks you’re incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re the only thing the girl counselor cabin talks about.”

You see a blush creep up his cheeks. “Really?”

You don’t want to indulge him - you shouldn’t indulge him - but you do. “Every girl here has the hots for you. Maybe even some of the boys.”

Steve’s breath catches. “Every girl?”

You stare at him awkwardly. “Well - n… no, not every girl, but - enough.” You feel embarrassment creeping hotly through your veins. “Not - not me, if you’re thinking -”

“No, no,” he says, just as awkwardly as you. “No, I know that.” He smiles slightly.  “You hate me.”

A smile turns the corners of your lips. “Yeah. I hate you.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

A long and awkward silence ensues before he says, “Yeah - okay. I will see you tonight.”

===

Hours later, you saunter over to the counselor bonfire, located right off the shore of the lake. It’s a beautiful, clear night - a slight breeze rustles the trees and the fire licks the stars. You’re a bit late, and Steve’s nervous that you won’t show up. Despite this, he is literally surrounded by the female counselors, who are eagerly asking him about himself.

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble as you approach.

“Look who it is!” Josh shouts out as you near. “Y/N, we’ve been waiting for you.”

“You shouldn’t have,” you say dryly, entering the circle.

Steve pats the log beside him - he had saved you a seat. With all these girls surrounding him, he saved you a seat. He had to tell them, “hey, don’t sit there, it’s reserved,” while he waited for you to show up. It’s a sweet gesture, one that sends your heart beating a little too fast for your liking. You sit beside him, giving a tight lipped smile.

The girls all smile at you, as if it’s all some type of game. And you know why they’re so amused - you had dramatically cut them off each night when Steve would be brought up. You’d throw a pillow over your head and shout at them to just shut up already. They thought you weren’t immune to his charms, just as they weren't. You roll your eyes at them.

Josh hands you a piece of paper and a pencil. “We’re doing the burning ceremony in a few.”

You take the paper and pencil from him gently, sitting it on your lap. Beside you, Steve is clutching his paper tightly to his chest. You bite the inside of your cheek as you think about what to write down - you’d already metaphorically burned Steve last year. You simply write down my past with no elaboration, intending to feed everyone a fake story and then throw it into the fire.

Steve himself didn’t need to think very long about what to write down. His biggest regret was the way he had treated people. A nauseous jerk tugs at his stomach when he thinks about high school, when he thinks about Nancy and Jonathan, when he thinks about the mask he always hid behind. He’s reminded of it every single day here with you - memories that he can’t quite touch but that he knows are there. The feeling of guilt when he looks at you, at the way your brows furrow and eyes narrow at him. How, even now, the pleasantries hide behind past aggression.

He doesn’t blame you.

And maybe, perhaps, burning a piece of paper will make him feel better. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever done.

You listen as everyone goes around and tells their story. Some talk about relationships, or mental health. Each story is met with support from the circle, almost like group therapy. When all comments are said, the paper is thrown in, and everyone claps and cheers as it burns. You can sense that Steve is getting more and more nervous as he gets closer to talking, and you wonder what’s on his paper.

When it’s your turn, you stand up. “I wrote down my past.” You clear your throat. “Uh - I’m not proud of who I used to be. I used to be so quiet and shy. But I’m happier now, and louder, and I’m not afraid of the space that I take up.”

Steve’s eyes burn a hole into your side as you tell your story. He remembers the girl you’re talking about. He remembers how quiet you were, always minding your own business. And his chest hurts when he realizes that he’s probably why you were that way.

It takes a lot of strength for you to not side-eye him.

Everyone tells you that they’re proud and you throw the paper into the fire, sitting back down and crossing your hands over your lap. There’s a tenseness between you and Steve, but no one realizes the connection.

Steve stands, his hands shaking. It takes him a second to find his voice.

“Um. Well, when I was younger - not younger, just a few years ago - I was a jerk.”

You tense up, staring intently into the fire.

“I was such a dick. I made the worst decisions and the worst friends. I used to follow the crowd, because I thought that’s what I had to do to make them like me.” He licks his lips and takes a deep breath. “And I knew it was wrong - I knew it was - but that’s not an excuse. I let it go on for too long, and I hurt a lot of people. And that really kills me each day.”

You squeeze your hands together.

“I’m trying so hard to not be that person anymore, and I’m glad that I’m not. I got away from those people and I found better friends. Friends who believe in me and like me for me.” He clears his throat and sniffles. “But I’m so worried that I’ll turn back into that person again. I know there are people who will always know me as that person, and that sucks.” His eyes land on the top of your head. “But not as much as it sucks for them, I’m sure.

“I’m just ashamed,” he continues. “I wish I could change what I did. I wish I could make everyone believe that I’m not that guy anymore. I wish I wasn’t so scared. Most of all, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

Everyone’s silent. Steve asks, “Do - do I throw it in now?”

“No,” Josh says. “Uh - wow. I don’t even know where to start.”

Steve feels the shame creeping into his chest again and bows his head.

“First of all, man, you’re allowed to change. You can change, and it’s obvious that you did,” Josh says.

Steve looks up, shocked at the validation.

“Yeah,” Nico, Steve’s roommate, interjects. “Dude, you’re one of the nicest, goofiest people I’ve ever met.”

A few yeahs echo around the circle.

“And it’s a good sign that you regret what you’ve done,” another girl, Emily, says. “That shows growth.”

You sit tensely, feeling cold in front of the fire. You know he’s talking about you. And you know he means what he’s saying.

You interject a few moments later. “What matters is that you’re trying to change. That’s the best you can do.”

Steve looks down at you, brows furrowing, but it feels like a weight has lifted off of him, freeing him. Feels like his collar bones aren’t cracking under pressure. His eyes are soft and filled with tears - he wasn’t expecting any of this.

You swallow hard, feeling your own tears swelling in your eyes. “And I think that - I think that it’s obvious you aren’t like who you were before.”

Never in your life did you think you’d say that, and never in Steve’s life did he think he’d hear it.

A few people agree, reinforcing that it’s okay for him to be ashamed, but it’s okay for him to grow, too. It’s a bit much for Steve, who makes a strong effort to not burst out into sobs. You can’t meet his eyes yet, but when he sits down after throwing the paper in, you reach for his hand and squeeze it. It’s more than the truce at the breakfast table - it’s an understanding. It’s forgiveness. It’s comfort. It’s friendship. You decide to truly, finally swallow your past, let the flames do their job, and embrace the new Steve.

Your hand leaves after just a second, but he understands the message, and you both smile the rest of the night.

===

It’s Sunday night now, and you’re doing rounds. It’s a little after one in the morning. You check on every cabin to make sure kids are asleep and safe, then decide to sneak a dip in the lake. It was a cool night, but the water was calling. You approach the pier but stop when you see another body already sitting on the edge, shoulders slumped.

You can tell despite the distance that it’s Steve, and you can tell that something’s wrong.

You make your footsteps loud so he can hear you coming, and you take a seat on the wood beside him. The lake is bright from the moon, and it illuminates on Steve’s sullen face. “You okay?”

He nods softly. “I just wanted to take a walk,” he says, but his voice cracks.

You frown. “Is that all?”

He doesn’t answer for a long time, but you can see that his cheeks and eyes are red and swollen. Finally, he whispers, “I had a nightmare.”

Steve had awoken in a sweat, kicking his sheets off of him and gasping for breath. It was another dream about the Upside Down, and it hit him unexpectedly and hard. Nico had stood over his bed, worry etched onto his face, asking Steve if he was okay. Steve brushed it off and said he needed to go on a walk. When he slipped outside, he cried, hugging himself as he walked to the pier. It was the brightest spot at camp, the only place he felt safe. He had learned the lake like the back of his hand in three week’s time, had found a home in it, and he went there to pull himself together.

A nightmare was a bit of an understatement - it had felt so real. He went weeks without one, happily, assuming the distance from Hawkins was helping. It was disheartening to have one here. Embarrassing, too. He wonders if Dustin or any of the kids had been having them.

The anguish on his face and cheeks is apparent and you whisper, “Hey,” taking his hand and squeezing it again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He shakes his head numbly. He would like to talk about it, but knows he can’t. “Just a stupid dream.”

You frown. “It’s not stupid to feel scared.”

Steve sniffles. “I know.”

“But do you know?”

Steve stills, eyebrows knitting together again. “I… it’s hard to feel like it’s not stupid.”

You nod. “I know how you feel. Well, at least a bit.”

“Do you have nightmares?”

“No,” you whisper. Your thumb absentmindedly rubs over his. “But I have anxiety. And I know how it feels to think it’s stupid to feel that way.”

Steve nods. “I just kind of… push it down. I try not to bother people with it.”

“You’re not bothering people who love you for talking about it. Have you told Dustin?”

“Yeah, but… he’s got his own problems.”

You nod in understanding. After a few moments of silence, you say, “You can talk to me.”

He laughs solemnly. He wishes he could talk to someone about it. Someone outside of the people who were there, or outside of the shrinks that Doc Owens had recommended. Anyone with a new perspective. But he can’t, because the person he’d confide in would die, and he really doesn’t need that on his conscience. That’s not something you could burn in a fire and forget about.

“I’m serious,” you say. “I can help.”

Steve kicks his feet back and forth in the water for a few minutes. Then he looks over at you. “How do you stop being anxious?”

“You don’t,” you say, laughing. “It just gets easier to hide. But having friends helps, and loving yourself helps.”

“I don’t have either.”

You elbow his side gently. “You have friends, Steve. And I’ll be damned if you don’t like yourself by the time you leave here.”

He’s quiet again, then says, “It’s really hard for me to think of people as friends. It’s hard to think that people actually want to hang out with me. Tommy and Carol used me for money and an empty house.” He shrugs lazily. “The attention just feels so… superficial now.”

And it makes your heart ache, because maybe that’s why he won’t give in to the girls here. He thinks they don’t like him for him - they only like him for his looks. Even if he wants them to like him, if he wants someone to love, it’s hard to accept it. The realization ignites an odd anger in you; he doesn’t deserve to feel like this.

“Maybe,” you whisper. “But at least you’re aware of it, right?”

He nods and shrugs again. “I guess.”

More silence.

“Your speech on Friday…,” you say softly. “It meant a lot.”

“It didn’t have to -”

“But it did.”

He swallows and turns to face you. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing his thumb again. “I forgive you.” You smile. “For real this time.”

He smiles, too. “Apparently, since you can’t stop holding my hand.”

You retract it quickly, holding it to your chest. You didn’t realize how long you’d been holding it, and you blushed deeply. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You sure?” he grins. “Because someone told me every girl here likes me.”

You kick water towards him and he laughs, kicking back. You’re happy to see the light back in his eyes.

“So Kayak Ball, huh?”

“It’s the next big thing.” He seems proud of it.

You hum. “So I’ve heard.” You splash water towards him again. “You gonna teach me?”

Steve laughs incredulously. “You want to learn?”

“Yeah,” you smile, shrugging. “Maybe I can stop by tomorrow on my break.”

He smiles widely. “You’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

You push up and reach out for his hand, pulling him up with you. “Let me walk you back to your cabin, okay?”

“You don’t have to -”

“I don’t want you to get lost in the woods.”

You walk together in silence, but Steve feels comforted. Like maybe he could go back to sleep when he lays down instead of worrying about dying.

“Hey,” you say when you approach his cabin. “Um… Mia? She wanted me to put in a good word for her.”

“As in?”

“As in, you should sit with her at lunch.” You wink. “She’s one of those ‘every girls’ that likes you.”

His eyes widen and then he smiles, shaking his head. “You mean it?”

“No, it’s a prank.”

He laughs softly and shakes his head again. “Well, thanks for the tip.”

You smile and nod. When you turn to walk towards your cabin, you say, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He waves after you. “Goodnight.”

===

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[fics-not-tragedies]

Memories to be made: Chapter 2

one - two - three

It’s the second chapter already, since I’m too keen to post it after such a warm welcome from my mutuals. 

SUMMARY: Emelia and Keanu go out to have a dinner together. Words:  3271; Warnings: none;

Readers tag list:

@spookier-than-u; @oreofenyloetyloamina; @derangedcupcake; @geostarr​; @catsmieow​; @wickedlangdon​; @bodhi-black​; @bugalouie; @onebatch--twobatch​; @fandom-lover-4; @mikaneonox​; @drunkonyellow; @spadesandaces2342​; @harrisongslimited​; @a–1–1–3; @hhighkey; @lunilate​; @i-cant-remember-my-old-login; @sgt-morgan​; @coloursunlimited; @childrenofthegun​; @weminiaturestrawberry​; @silverlambcaptain; @scarletmoon83​; @howtoruin-someones-perfect-day​; @krazycags01; @charlottebonnie; @moonlit-raven-haven; @girl-at-the-verge; @boopdedoop; @jardani-jovonovich-bitch; @ladyreapermc​;

The heavy rain was falling from the dark clouds for more than two hours now, making them feel like two years instead, the big droplets clattering against the window, leaving damp smudges on the clear glass. It just didn’t wanted to go away. It might have stopped for a moment, when she was heading here, to the restaurant, giving her a chance of arriving for her date mostly un-soaked.

How the fortune decided to smile and wink at her, letting the sun shine, peak shyly from behind the obscure clouds, right in the time when she was trying to get to the restaurant on time, the tube’s schedule wasn’t helping and the thought of taking a cab was still too terrifying for her to do it all by herself.

Whole sky felt like a terrible misunderstanding.

Just like her whole life now did.

Day turned into the night, the gloominess wasn’t really helping in going out. Even if it was supposed to be a date with the softest and purest boy she has ever met.

Emelia was happy to see him nonetheless. It was the thought of growing closer, as well as opening up to him, that frightened her the most.

It seemed like the tea advertisement was stalking her everywhere she went. The tall billboard was placed across the street, but she could see it perfectly from the spot in which they were sitting in the restaurant.

In love? Give Tea a Chance.

The slogan sounded to her like some sort of a joke now.

Emelia couldn't be in love with Keanu. It was too soon for any major emotions to appear. But it was clear that she'll give him a chance, even though it will be hard for her to simply let him in.

Letting him in meant that she would have to tell him about her past and about the horrific incident that made her unsure about who she really is.

Along with her memories she lost her identity. She could easily say that she officially and astonishingly unwillingly became a part of the Bourne stories franchise, and she was playing the main role in them, but the small crumpets of her past, which she was rummaging through once again this morning, didn’t helped in the recovery of her memories.

She woke up at 9 a.m., jumping out of bed with the aftermath of another nightmare still stuck in her head, while the heavy droplets of rain were pattering against the big window of her bedroom. Another terrible night filled with visions from her past, scraps and bits she couldn’t sew together, but everything was haunting her consistently night after night.

How terrified she was.

Terrified by her own self. Everything seemed unreal, especially the hazy memory of her mother leaving their house and never coming back, even though she waited for her every second, every day, every week, every month, until the whole year didn’t passed and her dad simply told her that “momma isn’t coming back”.

After all those years, this moment filled with peculiar emotions she felt that day, was one of two things she was able to remember right now. And now, after everything that happened, the memory of her mother leaving them, saddened her even more than it genuinely did when she was four.

“Where are you now, darling?” His warm voice, embraced her like a tight warm hug. She turned her head to look at him, his face too close to hers now. Noticing how his eyes widened as he just stares at her, licking his chapped lips she reflexively scratches her neck through the fabric of her flimsy turtleneck and then just looks away, gluing her gaze to the plate of sushi that the waitress placed few moments ago in front of them.

Emelia was so lost in her own thoughts again, blindly rummaging through the depths of her memory, she hasn’t noticed any single thing that happened around her.

Keanu dared himself to slide his body closer to her along with the chair he was seated in. And he did, surprised that she hasn’t flinched away like a frightened deer in the headlights, moving her chair away from him in a hectic movement. She just stayed there, but looked away, her eyes glued to the window he had behind his back now, scanning the tea advertisement again and again.

He had to admit, that his stare was way too intimidating for something they could’ve called a first date. The whole situation felt hopeless, even though he wasn’t really hoping for anything.

Keanu wasn’t that type.

All he thought about was to hold her hands, that always seemed to be freezing judging by the way she was pulling the sleeves of her turtlenecks basically all the time she was around him. Hide her palms safely inside of his, like they were the most precious treasure in the whole world.

Yes, all he wanted was to hold hands with her. Quite simple, yet still impossible, gesture.

Maybe the night will end with a shy peck of her rouged lips pressed just for a second to his cheek that probably will be flushed long before she would find the guts to even think about doing it.

“I’m sorry, I-I just feel like I’m losing my mind” she mumbled with her mouth filled with another piece of salmon nigiri. He just pressed his hand to his forehead, then ran his fingers through his hair, absolutely unable to find the right words to give her a decent answer.

She swallowed the mouthful and just sighed, taking a sip from the glass.

Did he really ordered plum wine?

“Do you want to talk about it?” He blurted out, without even thinking and his face went red right after realizing what he just said. He’d rather just press his face into his palms and scream into them, he just made himself sound like a fucking douche.

Emelia was silent, too busy munching on the delicious pieces of sushi that she had right under her nose placed on the wide marble-like plate.

Later on, when she’ll arrive home, she would be standing in front of the mirror that’s hanged on the wall in her bathroom picking out the bits of rice that got stuck in the hole in one of her teeth.

She’s ought to see a dentist. It wasn't a painful cavity yet, but surely it was a pain in the ass. This morning, when rummaging through all of her stuff, she spotted a business card with a number to one of the dentists she was visiting frequently. At least she assumed that, after seeing few dates with hours scribbled down on a piece of paper that was attached to it.

She really need to see a dentist soon.

The cogs in her brain were working at their highest efficiency, trying to come up with something clever to say, not just telling him about that damned accident and bursting into tears right after, like she did too often. He still was a stranger, after all, even though she felt that the atoms of her body were connected to those in his.

Strangers.

That’s what they were now. No matter that they were sitting too close to each other, their hips touching, his hand dying to touch her arm, to stroke her cheek, gently caressing her soft skin, to brush away that wild strand of her auburn locks that refuses to stay tucked behind her ear and keeps falling onto her face.

Taking another sip of the wine she finally turned with her whole body to him, placing the glass back on the table and leaning with her elbow onto the back of her chair.

“It’s kinda complicated and…” a scratch of her neck, her fingers pressed firmly to the fabric that she had wrapped around it, rubbing the spot harshly, “I-I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Keanu chuckled nervously, taking his own glass in hand and downing the content of it in one big slurp.

“Absolutely not going to tell people your secrets after our date” okay, he finally admitted that this, in fact, was truly a date and it made them both feel lighter now, like someone just took a heavy weight from their chests.

His Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down in his throat, eyes not leaving her face, waiting for any type of response in inner panic now.

He could’ve chosen better words, fuck.

Would her eye flinch, brow furrow or will she just remain silent till the evening ends?

She tilts her head backwards, hand pressed to her neck, fingers sliding under the hem of the black fabric. Keanu lean closer to her and just took her hand in his, pulling it away from her skin. Emelia stares at him in shock, stunned, unable to bable a word. Her heart races up, thudding against her chest, her face probably in the same shade as her nails painted with the Russian Red.

“D-don’t do it, darling” he breathed out, stroking the top of her hand with his fingers, “I notice you do it every time when you’re feeling stressed or uncomfortable.”

“I-I’m… erm… sorry” she takes her hand abruptly away from his touch and a piece of Keanu’s heart gets torn apart.

The look on his face changes, the brightness in his eyes dulled now, smile disappeared from his face and he just stared at her blankly now, not even bothered by blinking. She feels this thigh knot in her stomach, that urges her to do something, to fix the gesture that he took as unpleasant.

There was nothing wrong with what he did, but he would be still thinking about this tiny detail when he’ll arrive home late in the evening. And every other little thing he did wrong tonight, screwing up his chances for holding her hand again.

It was a small gesture of showing her that he care, but it was too sudden, too alarming, it scared her, made her feel uneasy. In fact she was dying to touch him, run her own finger through the fluff of his hair, stroke his cheek, lay her head on his shoulder. But she had to do it all at her own pace. Not in a rush caused by the plum wine running in their systems and clouding their minds, making them say words and do things that would never happen when they’re sober.

The intimacy was a hard one for her. It was the fact that her own body was a surprise to her, she had to get use to it again, explore it herself first and then give it away to someone, to a special man she still hoped she’ll be able to meet, after two screwed up relationships. Funny how she remembered there were two of them, but she couldn’t put her finger on the names of these men she loved before.

She had to get along with all of those new scars she had carved not only on her skin, but also on her soul and her mind. It was a long, extremely bouncy ride down a steep hill, laden with emotions, bits and crumbs of her past she wasn’t able to recall just yet.

And her mind was similar to a black hole, filled with only scraps of what she was able to call her memories. Frustrating, it all was too frustrating, not being able to remember who she really was.

Emelia gaze is glued to him, her eyes not leaving his face. Keanu is still waiting for some sort of a response, her mouth slightly agape like she wants to say something, but remains silent, not a single vowel leaves her rouge lips.

Finally, after few more seconds of the most painful silence he ever experienced in his whole life, he decides to turn away and grab the pair of chopsticks that are lying on the table right next to their plate.

She laughs.

No, no, she bursts with laughter, the sincere sound of it fills the whole place, echoes in his ears, drenches his whole body, pierces right through his soul. His head turned to her, doe eyes wide, confused a bit. Her nose crinkled, those tiny wrinkles visible all around her eyes, dimples in her cheeks looking even cuter then they did for the first time he had the chance to see them.

“What?” Keanu asked, shaking his head to the side, corners of his own mouth curling upwards, unable to keep a straight face while looking at her smiling like that.

“It looks like you’re about to stab the sushi, not eat it, while you hold them like that” she pointed to those two pieces of bamboo he’s holding in his fingers, “just… let me help you with them” moving her chair even further to his she leaned over, pressed her arm close to his and wraps her fingers around his hand.

Aligning them correctly in his hand she fixes the position of his fingers; placing his middle finger between them, his index finger on the top chopstick and pressing the bottom one onto his ring finger.

Her hand is cold, but not colder than their plum wine; every time her fingers touched his own he felt how the electricity flickers down his arm and all the way to his spine, the tingling feeling spreading all over him.

Running his other hand through his hair he turns to her, “You can teach me a lot of things, darling”, she is still smiling and when she looked up at his face, their gazes met, eyes stuck together, something he can’t properly name urges him to kiss her, right here and right now.

He hovers his face an inch closer to hers and she doesn’t flinch backwards. She just keeps her eyes glued to his, blinking almost in slow motion, her long black eyelashes moving in a butterfly-like flow.

So he does it once again, getting closer and closer bit after bit. And he stops, seeing how her brows furrows, but a smile stayed glued to her lips.

Oh, how he’d sell his soul to the devil himself, just to kiss her once, just to press his mouth gently to hers and see how they taste.

Reaching to the plate with her own chopsticks, she takes a piece of tuna nigiri in them and moves her hand between their faces, pressing the piece of sushi to his lip. Emelia giggles, seeing his reaction, how he rolled his eyes and gasped, but opened his mouth eating it nonetheless.

“You should start eating, unless you want me to have the whole dinner for myself and stick to just keeping me company” stuffing her own mouth with another piece she munched on it wiggling her brows to Keanu.

“Maybe I like to be fed” he mumbled between chewing, “by you” he adds after swallowing the rice-y delish.

“Quite the fetish” she chuckled, eating another piece, then taking a long sip from her glass. 

He glanced at her between swallowing his bites and reaching for another ones. It seems like she’s more relaxed now. At least she stopped scratching this one spot on her neck, that’s what he noticed so far.

Impulsive behavior, that was it. A way of copying with stress. Unpleasant mannerism.

She cleared her throat and his eyes immediately left his glass which he was filling with more of the plum wine. His gaze jumped back onto her face, studying every little detail that can possibly change about it.

“The problem is” she says leaning in, “if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop” Keanu flinched closer to her, pressing his face towards the touch of her hand that simply brushed the rice stuck in one corner of his mouth.

There’s not much he can do now, so he just laughed at his own self. Such a fool he is, a fool for her.

“Who says you have to stop?” He casually reached for his glass and took a sip from it, their eyes stuck together, as he’s the one wiggling his brows now making her laugh.

“This white shirt really suits you, Keanu” the way his name rolls off her tongue, the way she accents the K and punctuates every single letter sends a shiver through his whole body and down his spine. And again she moves even closer, even though their chairs are pressed together now, almost stacked on top of another, reaching deep down herself to find the proper amount of courage to brush his arm with her fingers.

“I want to take things slowly” she breathed out, touching lightly the skin under the rolled sleeve of his shirt and then slid them down the bared part of his arm. He tensed in the moment Emelia pressed her fingertips to his skin, every muscle in his body stiff.

His mouth was agape, his eyes glued to her every movement, inhaling the view of her index fingers dancing on top of his arm, tracing the outline of his veins. She’s like a little child now, that explores the world for the first time, touching and playing with everything that’s in reach of her tiny hands.

Gulping the lump that formed in his throat he speaks finally, his eyes stuck at her, “So this first date is about touching my arm?”

“Yes” looking up at him she smiled, her dimples showing up again, the gesture like sun - lightning up the whole place, making them all forget about the gloomy weather and the heavy rain that’s still pouring outside, trying to make a point.

“Then touch my arm anytime you want. Emelia, your hands… they are lovely, you should be playing piano with those fingers” Keanu touches the top of her hand with his own calloused fingers, dancing with them, like he was playing a part of some tune his mind just made up.

“I think I did, I-I might have...”

“You did?” his confidence just grew, so he slides his hand from her own to her clothed arm, but she shudders, moving her limb away from his touch.

Now he regrets being too confident. She set the peace and he has to stick to it without rushing anything or making her do things she doesn’t want to.

“Back in the past…” sliding her fingers up and down she tickles him a bit, a small giggle leaving his mouth.

“If you want to get back to it lemme know, I think I can help with it” he smiled at her, the greens of her eyes so bright they transfer him back to juicy fields in the spring.

“I will… I will think of it. Thank you, Keanu” removing her hand from his arm she reaches for her wine glass and keeps it high in the air, “for everything you’ve done so far, even though you might think that you’ve done nothing at all. It’s all in the details, really” he grabbed his own glass and bumped it with hers, the awkward clinking sound making them both laugh.

“No, thank you, darling. For this lovely evening and for everything that will come” they both take a sip from their glasses, smiles still glued to their faces.

How lovable the dimples in her cheeks make her look, when her face is so bright, the corners of her mouth curved all the way upwards, not a single bit of worry visible on her face.

Her smile has the ability to change his life, to turn it around and make it all about her.