#internalized homophobia

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Okay but did anyone else die a little inside when Wilhelm wiped the nail polish off? No? Just me? Okay

#the internalized homophobia was just #ughhhhh #hashtag #hashtag relatable #young royals #simon eriksson #young royals analysis #wille x simon #wilmon endgame #simon x wilhelm #wilhelm #prince wilhelm #wilmon #wille #wilhelm yr #wilhelm young royals #wilhelm x simon #internalized homophobia #homophobia #heteronormativity

[turntechgaykid]

Mischaracterizing Nico di angelo as some 'shy gay boi' instead of a teen who was raised in homophobic, early dictatorship 1924 Italy is gross.

Nico isn't shy or embarrassed about his queerness the boy has internalized homophobia, 1920s Italy was not a safe place for queer people and Nico's early experience with queer people was likely seeing them belittled, berated or abused.

I would put actual money on saying that Nico's first reaction to his own or others queerness isnt embarrassment or confusion but revulsion, fear, shame or hate for it, especially after dealing with feelings of isolation and otherness from both Camp half blood and Camp Jupiter.

He isn't some cutesy shy boy who gets flustered he's a teenager struggling to accept and understand himself after, in his formative years, most likely being told what he feels is wrong, shameful or unnatural.

(also not to mention the culture shock it would've been for him to see queerness an gayness being accepted in the 21st century and in both ancient Greek/Rome an how he'd have to rationalize that with his already made world view)

#pjo #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #bianca di angelo #1924 Italy #nico my poor boy #internalized homophobia #homophobia #camp half blood #camp jupiter #mischaracterization #jasico #jasico my beloved

[macaulaytwins]

hope christalbott450 is having a good day :(

#aww #twilight #twilight saga #edward cullen #mlm #very richard siken #sufjan stevens #etc #richard siken #a primer for the small weird loves #gay #youtube comments #lgbtq #internalized homophobia #neutral milk hotel #in the aeroplane over the sea

[tittedntatted]

To the lesbian struggling with internalized homophobia: You're not a creep. You are human, and you have desires, and they're perfectly natural. You think this way because society's conditioned us to believe that our love for women is evil. You know there's nothing evil about how we love, groove, relate, woman to woman. Actually it's good, natural, beautiful.

#Lesbian #baby lesbian #baby gay #internalized homophobia #lesbian positivity

[strangersteddierthings]

The thing is, Steve has learned, that becoming untouchable isn't all he wants it to be.

People were too quick to try and reach out for him, ask for more than he was willing to give. He hadn't wanted to give up his first kiss to some random girl at some random boy's twelfth birthday party because of spin the bottle. He hadn't wanted to play Seven Minutes in Heaven with Jenny Jackson or Linda Simons at Tommy's birthday party the following year. He did want to take Mary Linscott to Snow Ball, but she just wanted to make out behind the bleachers instead of dance with him. He didn't want to do that but then Brian called him stupid for not wanting to, and asked if he was queer. So, Steve had turned right back around and dragged Mary back under the bleachers, kissing her until it was time to go to prove Brian wrong.

(Even though Steve knows Brian isn't wrong. That Steve had wanted to ask Brian to the dance as much as he'd wanted to ask Mary but knew better than to do that. He saw how they treated Eddie Munson last year for the suspicion of liking other boys and Steve wasn't going to let that happen to himself.)

Brian had congratulated him after and asked what base he got to. Steve didn't want to get to any bases, but he couldn't say that, so he just punched Brian in the arm and said 'more bases than you' which was true because Brian's date didn't kiss him even once.

Then Carol Perkins approached him at lunch, shortly after Snow Ball, and asked if Steve would be her first kiss. Not because she wanted to kiss Steve, but because she wanted to kiss Tommy H, but didn't want to be bad at kissing. Steve agreed because he liked Carol. Not in the way she liked Tommy, but mostly because she'd asked.

No one had done that yet.

She came over to his house on a Saturday because she didn't want Tommy to catch them and think she didn't like him. They made out in his room because, despite his parents being home, they didn't really care who was in his room with him or if the door was open or shut. Probably didn't even notice he had someone over. She leaves an hour later.

By Tuesday Tommy and Carol are an item and by Friday they were Steve's best friends.

However, for reasons Steve doesn't understand, more girls keep asking him to be their first kiss. And maybe it's because he's already got a reputation, or maybe Carol let slip he'd said yes when she asked, but Steve finds himself kissing a lot of girls he doesn't want to. He doesn't know how to say no. Can't find a reason too. Brian's words play in the back of his mind every time he thinks about saying no.

(Are you stupid? Are you queer? He doesn't want to be either of those things, and given his grade in biology and pre-algebra, he's really only got a hope of avoiding the queer label. His father would tolerate a stupid son. He doesn't think he'd survive if his father had a queer one.)

There are a few girls he's been crushing on that ask him and that was nice. One, Alice Baker, even becomes his girlfriend for a month. His first relationship.

Soon eighth grade gives way to being a freshman and Steve, who has always been handsome and cute, catches the eye of upperclassmen now.

And Steve's not sure how it happens, but he ends up moving past first base with another girl whose name he can't remember, or possibly never knew. He doesn't remember asking her for hers when she led him into one of the bedrooms at the house this party was at while he was way too tipsy.

And then it just grows. The reputation and what people expect from him, and he doesn't want it, but he's never said no before so can he start now? Doesn't he need a reason to say no? If he doesn't have a reason, does that make him queer? He should be wanting this. What boy doesn't want this?

And maybe he does want it. But not like this.

He doesn't want to be slightly drunk at yet another party, following the first girl that grabs his wrist and pulls him after her into whatever secluded area they can find. He doesn't want to keep saying yes when he wants to say no.

The summer between freshman and sophomore year he confides in Carol. It's a risk. Carol can be cruel, quick with her words to tear you down, to spread the rumor that will ruin your life. But she's also fiercely loyal.

He tells her he's tired of kissing people he doesn't want to.

Carol is quiet for a long time, and Steve almost thinks he's made a mistake. But then she speaks.

"Okay. Let's make a plan."

And they do. Then suddenly Steve is untouchable. Carol teaches him how to see the weakness in people and call it out. How to wield his facial expressions as a weapon and a shield. How to put on the air of being the most important person everywhere you go so well that everyone else begins to believe it. How to fall back on the fact his parents are rich, gone often, and, almost most importantly, well known in the community. It gives Steve's name a weight to throw around.

More importantly, all of that culminates in people no longer asking things of him. Instead, they look to him to take the lead, they wait to be asked. It makes Steve feel in charge of his life for once.

But now.

Now, years later, having survived a spring break from Hell and averted the apocalypse, Steve watches Eddie hang off Argyle with ease, fling an arm over Jonathan's shoulder while laughing at a joke, easily pull Dustin into a headlock or wrestling match.

Easy touches that Steve should be able to do, too. A jealousy wells inside him almost as much as the unease he feels in his stomach at the mere thought of letting them know they're allowed to reach out and touch him, too. That Eddie's allowed to reach out and touch.

But then he remembers what happened when he let people have that power over him and he can't bring himself to do it.

It settles in Steve, then, the realization. When you become untouchable, you're unable to touch.

-

@nburkhardt @i-less-than-three-you adding my own lil bit of angst into the mix now (:

#pre steddie #my fic #cw dubious consent #internalized homophobia #steve kisses a lot of people he doesnt want to because of peer pressure and his own fear of not fitting in #it is also implied steve has sex with people when he didnt really want to #steve harrington has bad parents #touch-starved steve #also if you know the song that last line is from i am smooching the top of your head softly

[butchaholic]

i love butches and it tears me up when butches don't love themselves. it tears me up because i get it. i understand. but i don't know how to help. and maybe this is selfish, but i worry, sometimes, that if i'd instead hate myself again too. because sometimes hating yourself (your body, your sexuality, your life) is a vice. an addiction. and one that's hard to quit. and easy to fall back into.

i love butches. i'm butch, and i love myself too.

#butch #butch4butch #growing up gay #internalized homophobia

[whetstonefires]

So like, I'm pretty darn sure Mo Xuanyu did not actually make a pass at Jin Guangyao.

For several reasons, like for one thing hitting on your own actual brother who is also your boss is genuinely insane behavior, in a way nothing else we know about the guy actually matches, other than his reputation for being crazy which mostly seems to originate from the same point as the sexual harassment allegations. which tracks because even with rampant societal homophobia, that's such a crazy thing to do people would question it if it didn't come paired with the information that he's insane.

Then there's the fact that if that had actually happened, there's basically no way master spin artist jgy would have let it get out, because actually experiencing that would trigger his sense-of-uncleanliness issues so hard.

But what we see is that somehow Everyone Knows that it happened, but also that Jin Guangyao totally didn't tell anyone, because he's too merciful and kind and respectable. It just mysteriously leaked somehow that this private scandal happened.

(Also, to step up a meta level, the gay goth kid who was never quite accepted into his own family and wound up self-destructing was in fact guilty of the homophobic allegations spread by the powerful man who manipulates reputation for personal advantage? This is not the kind of story where that would be true. The thematic dissonance is too much.)

The only way it's believable that mxy made a move on jgy is if jgy spent a long time maneuvering him into it, hinting and deniably flirting and just generally being maximum skeeze, just a huge elaborate incestuous honeypot, just to bait a 'ruined reputation' trap. Which makes no sense at all.

I don't think jgy is necessarily above that kind of creepy grooming behavior but I do think he would hate it, and definitely wouldn't resort to it when sowing rumors would work just as well. and expose him to less risk.

So Mo Xuanyu didn't do it.

So what we've got is that Jin Guangyao systematically obliterated this kid's credibility.

No one would listen to anything he said after being expelled in that sort of context, especially anything against Jin Guangyao, whom he now has obvious motive to smear. This was a preemptive strike against some kind of leak.

It's exactly the kind of thing jgy would do--it targets individual vulnerability, leverages the weak points in Mo Xuanyu's reputation into gaping chasms, in a way that associates jgy with scandal but makes him personally look better. also shows signs of jgy projecting his own issues onto others. The MO fits.

And his motive is easy to construct: Mo Xuanyu had had access to his secrets, such as Wei Wuxian's manuscripts and probably a lot of the other ugly shit. And Jin Guangyao needed him silenced, due to some thing or other, but as with SiSi didn't want to have to kill him.

(A fascinating thing about jgy as a villain is the moments where he yields to sentiment pretty consistently contribute to his destruction.)

But then we come around to: so why didn't Mo Xuanyu sic Wei Wuxian on Jin Guangyao, then?

In cql wwx does have a curse cut for jgy, to keep him in the plot and create an additional open storyline to resolve, since viewers are gonna be denied romantic catharsis, but in cql the homophobia plotline isn't there because all the gay is censored, and mxy allegedly hit on qin su instead. which is less utterly unhinged to do though still big wtf.

In the book, mxy summoned the Yiling Patriarch just to kill the Mos. (Which he didn't even do lmao.)

So I've always been sort of poking at that, like if you're destroying your own soul to get revenge, why spare the person who deliberately ruined your life?

Even if he had done the thing, it was weird! Maybe even weirder; if you're in a headspace where making sexual advances anyone should be able to predict are unwelcome seems like a good idea in the first place, there's a pretty good chance getting punished for them isn't going to make you think you were in the wrong. Otoh there is a zone where he could have done it, gotten the backlash, cleared his head a bit, realized it was fucked up to do, and therefore not held a grudge in that particular direction, but it's still weird. (And also he definitely didn't do the thing.)

But if he was so angry, why was he not angry at Jin Guangyao? Who definitely kicked him out of the Sect, all else aside?

And then I looked at the passage in Jin sect where we swap to Jin Ling's pov and he tells us one of the few first-hand things we hear about Mo Xuanyu: He thought Jin Guangyao was the most amazing person in the whole world. He adored him.

And being betrayed and rejected by him didn't turn that into resentment. Even though he resented the other side of his family enough to want them gratuitously murdered.

So you know what I think happened?

I think Mo Xuanyu thinks it was an honest misunderstanding. That Jin Guangyao, his idol, falsely concluded that his gay little brother was creeping on him based on a misinterpretation of his admiring behavior, and was appropriately revolted. And that Mo Xuanyu doesn't blame him for it. He blames himself.

He went back to his mother's family to rot genuinely feeling like the ruination of his life was his own fault for being creepy. And died like that.

Because of that, to a considerable extent. How can you bend any of your will to saving yourself, to getting out of an abusive situation and seeking a better one, when you don't think you deserve to be saved?

Fucks me up.

#hoc est meum #mdzs #mo xuanyu #meta #internalized homophobia #homophobia #suicide #abuse #gaslighting #the untamed #cql

[decomposingpoet]

Yeah yeah religious trauma and internalized homophobia suck but sometimes I get these moments of overwhelming joy at the fact that I am queer and proud I am not religious anymore I have a life ahead of me where I can celebrate pleasure and love and intellectual freedom without constraint like fuck yeah this is what I'm sticking around for!!!!!!!

#ex christian #lgbt #religious trauma #ex fundie #ex religious #exvangelical #gay #internalized homophobia #lesbian #wlw #queer #atheist

[your-stranger-halfblood-things]

Mike might not die in season 5, but he's definitely gonna go through hell, whether that be from Vecna or himself

#mike has depression and internalized homophobia #vecna also haunts his boyfriend #on top of all that mike is a bad kisser #stranger things #mike wheeler #byler #vecna/henry/001 #internalized homophobia

[lordofdestructionm]

Reading Mordecai Heller as a repressed gay man

The tragic attraction

This is a full post based on my response to a great analysis by @sedgewick-gayble

Let me start by saying that if you read Mordecai as being totally asexual/aromantic and any affection he has for other characters to be entirely platonic that is entirely valid and I respect that

However as this response by Tracy makes clear on the topic of fans reading Mordecai as gay there is an intentional ambiguity about it. Being 28 at the time of the main story his "lifestyle is certainly asexual" up to this point, yet "being ace and being gay are not mutually exclusive things" and people sometimes "don't know themselves or understand their own motivations all that well"

This leaves the possibility open that Mordecai is actively repressing his natural desires and feelings

Mordecai's early life didn't exactly provide much time or opportunity for "self discovery", even by the usual standards of the less than tolerant and understanding world of the early 20th century

Being born into an impoverished family and having his father die very early in his life leaving him and his Mother and two younger sisters in dire straits, Mordecai had to get to work and assume adult responsibilities pretty damn early.

As Tracy says "selling newspapers wasn't going to cut it" and so using his natural talent with numbers Mordecai starts bookkeeping for the mob. Is it any wonder someone with that background would develop such a serious and rigidly buttoned up demeanour?

Since being forced to abandon his mother and two sisters at the start of the 1920s and flee New York, being picked up by Atlas's due to his habit of collecting useful strays, Mordecai had very few people he was close to in St Louis. With his generally anti-social personality and not only lack of interest but discomfort with any sort of flirting or romantic entanglements, that would be unlikely to change

Side note: Probaby coincidence but

There are only two people who seem to make it onto that exclusive list of people that "count" for Mordecai, who he cares about and are able to bring things to the surface he would normally keep hidden

Atlas to Mordecai is not just an employer, he is the man who saved his life, the man who moulded a desperate fearful shabby young stray into the sharp professional he is today, who took him under his wing and made him his protege. Filling the empty space his father left in his life. His grief and desperate hunt for those responsible for his death are his big motivation (the strain of which is slowly tearing him apart)

That connection is undertsandable

Much more surprising on the surface is the bond with the partner Atlas teamed him up with soon after his arrival, Viktor Vasko.

The assumption at the start would have been that while their skill sets might compliment each other in the field there would have been no warmth in their dynamic.

Certainly not on Mordecai's part as Viktor appears to be a sum total of many things Mordecai hates. Viktor is unshaven, relatively casual in his attire, speaks a broken English, and hates people chattering or “noise, noise, noise” as he calls it. Clashing hard with his obsession with good grooming, high quality tailoring, correct grammar etc. Indeed Mordecai doesn't hesitate to nag/criticize Viktor for these things

Yet at the same time Mordecai has far better chemistry with Viktor than with anyone else, able to banter and bicker with him in a way you rarely if ever see with others

Its why when he gets tailored clothes for the first time Viktor is the first person he wants to show off too. Its why the one time he is intoxicated Viktor (and his large physique) are his chosen topic of converation. Its why at Christmas/Hanuhhah he gives him the gift of a tie while claiming its just because of the big guys poor fashion sense and that its "embarassing to be seen with him" (even that justification makes him sound like a nagging girlfriend)

A smaller detail is that during their iconic chess playing in the side content, set during their days staking out the remote town of Defiance, Viktor is shown very casually winning the game much to Mordecai's visible distress

This is hilarious but could also be taken as a metaphor for Viktor (possibly without even realizing it) breaking through his defensive emotional barriers

Something Mordecai doesn't know how to handle or respond to

The animated short only adds fuel to the fire

During their dispute over strategy Mordecai moves his face so close to Viktors that he almost knocks his cap off his head. His eyes at one point even dart down towards his mouth

Sharp eyed Vikdecai fans have also noted that Mordecai seems on some level to want the two of them to match

The tie being the same colour could simpy be Mordecai giving Viktor one of his own ties because its a joke gift and he just grabbed it on a whim to tease Viktor about his poor fashion choices

But think about the matching suits at the New Years party for 1926

I mean, seriously, not only is it the exact same style of suit in the same blue-grey colour distinct from everyone else, but they are standing in the perfect spots to be symmetrical to each other. Something that we all know means a lot to this compulsive man

Mordecai must have known there was going to be a big group photo ahead of time and then carefully planned this

Got matching suits made to his and Viktors measurements

Then most impressively convinced/nagged Viktor into cooperating (he may have taken off the tie and rolled up the sleeves but hey him playing along at all is quite a compromise from Viktor "I hate dressing up" Vasko)

Mordecai is intent on making Viktor retire and get out of danger, and avoid a situation where he gets sent to kill him by Marigold because he knows he could NOT do it, and his cover and investigation into Atlas's death would be over

He is horrified that Viktor is still working at Lackadaisy (though he again has to hide how much he cares) and that he has gotten not only hurt again but hurt by Mordecai again (albeit this time indirectly by stealing the guns)

Can this be read as simply platonic comradere? Absolutely

But there is something so *intense* in the fact he was willing to resort to kneecapping him. Its an extreme and desperate act that could only result from intense emotions, seemingly out of character for someone who tries very hard to appear logical and controlled.

While Vikdecai is a very fun ship when imagining them as an actual bickering married couple, I have often said that a tragic one-sided on Mordecai's part version of Vikdecai is the one that fits closest and surprisingly well into the canon.

His nagging and complaining about Viktor in that context take on a Tsundere aspect, both to protect himself from being found out and maybe even try and convince himself the uncomfortable alien feelings aren't there. He not only doesn't want others looking too hard at his feeling he doesn't want to examine them himself all that much

There is a heartbreaking but appealing angst to the idea of this extremely repressed man having such feelings for the first time in his life for his straight best friend and NOT knowing how to handle that. Having to perform the balancing act of being around him so much as his partner but being painfully aware that he can't let anyone catch on, especially not Viktor himself, as it would likely destroy his bond with the only person in town other than Atlas he is close to.

Though tragically he did that anyway later via the kneecapping, which while about trying to keep Viktor safe, he may now looking back try and tell himself its actually somehow "better" for Viktor to hate him for that

Because the big guy now wrongly thinks the feeling is mutual and that Mordecai never really cared about him, which may be better than (what Mordecai assumes would be) disgust at his partners doomed more than platonic feelings

Because he sees those feelings and his situation as a sad perfectly structured joke life has played on him

#lackadaisy #tracy j butler #lackadaisycats #mordecai heller #viktor vasko #vikdecai #repressed #gay #asexual #ace #comic #pilot #cats #gangsters #one sided love #one sided crush #one sided attraction #internalized homophobia

[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part one, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Part Two is here! Robin is finally coming in and giving us some new perspectives and answers, Steve accepts some things about himself, and Robin wants to invoke her best friend rights to protect Steve. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: internalized biphobia, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced suicidal thoughts

———

Robin grunts, hopping off her bike and ripping the helmet off her head. Three cars almost hit her today. Three! She groans.

“Stupid fucking bike—“ she kicks the back wheel, making it fall against the brick exterior wall of Family Video. She had to ride it to work today because someone—ahem, Steve—has decided to adopt half of the rising sophomore class, which means he’s off today since his favorite little nerd is off to Utah for the weekend. So now, she’s late for her shift and all gross and sweaty. Great.

Robin tucks her helmet under her arm, raking a hand through her hair in a weak attempt to fix it, and begins the short walk to the front doors when something catches her eye.

A burgundy BMW. Correction, Steve’s burgundy BMW.

She slows her steps and walks up to it, cautious as if it’ll attack her, and peeks inside. There’s nothing out of the ordinary save for a green duffle bag and an old beaten up shoebox. She frowns and looks towards the front doors as if the transparent surface will answer all of her questions.

She walks inside to find Steve. Steve, who is propped up on the counter with his eyes closed, head dipping down, and at work. The place he is decidedly not supposed to be right now.

“Dingus!” She shouts and slaps her hand on the counter, startling Steve awake. He reaches behind him, frowns when his hand comes up empty, and looks around with hazy eyes. There’s a distance behind those irises that she’s never seen before, like he’s not all there. As if he doesn’t know where he is.

Robin wasn’t concerned, but now she is.

“Steve?”

He finally looks up at her, sitting up straighter as if he didn’t know she was there, and puts on a smile she obviously knows is fake.

“Oh, hey, Robs,” he greets, his voice perfectly exemplifying that of model customer service personnel. Robin scrunches up her eyebrows.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, shifting her weight and putting her hands on her hips. She stares at Steve expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He only blinks at her.

“Uh… working? I have a shift today, Robs, why wouldn’t I be here?” He answers, eyebrows furrowing and head tilting slightly. Robin has a fleeting thought that he looks like a confused puppy, then she realizes that’s not too far off. She meets his confused gaze with one of her own.

“Dustin leaves for his trip to Utah today, Steve. In like,“—she checks the clock behind him—“an hour. Shouldn’t you be there to, ya know, say goodbye and all that?”

She waits for realization to dawn on his face, for that wrinkle between his brows to disappear and panic to settle in. It doesn’t. If anything, he looks even more confused now.

“… What trip to Utah?” He asks hesitantly, like he doesn’t know. Does… does he not know?

“Are you messing with me right now? ‘Cause I gotta tell you, this isn’t funny,” she huffs a nervous laugh. He shakes his head.

Shit.

Steve, she realizes, hasn’t talked about the kids in… a while. A week at least. But he would have told her, right? He would have mentioned something, would have asked her what’s going on.

But then again… would he?

“Fuck,” she curses, and briskly walks over to the front door. She locks it, flips the sign to ‘Closed!’, and ignores Steve’s petulant protest of “Robbie, c’mon.” She drags Steve out from behind the counter and pulls him in an aisle of tapes before crossing her arms over her chest.

“The movie nights… Those weren’t migraine days, were they?” She asks, already half expecting the head shake she gets in response but it hurts all the same.

See, Steve gets debilitating migraines sometimes, so bad he stays in bed for days at a time. She had bought him blackout curtains a few months ago after he said the dark helped his head, and ever since then he’s taken it upon himself to get through them alone. She would ask if he needed help, tell him to call her so she could come over, but he never did. She just assumed that he didn’t show up because he couldn’t, not… whatever this is.

Robin grabs him by the shoulders, thumbs rubbing over his collarbones as she looks in his eyes.

“What happened?”

Steve sighs, face falling as he looks to the floor.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs. His hand finds the hair tie on his wrist and he starts fiddling with it, snapping it against his skin and twisting it around his fingers. It makes Robin's heart clench. She shakes his shoulders to get him to look at her, and doesn't speak until he does.

“Steve, tell me what happened,” she insists, looking into his sad brown eyes that droop with the weight of her request. His shoulders rise beneath her hands as he takes in a deep breath. Then, he speaks.

“They haven’t talked to me in three weeks, Rob,” he confesses, eyes trained just over her shoulder to avoid eye contact. She knows he means the kids, and that makes this so, so much worse.

“Steve—“

“It’s okay,” he interrupts. His face slowly forms a small, wavering smile as he finally looks at her. “It means they’re growing up, expanding their horizons. Finding… finding better people to be around.”

Her stomach drops.

“Steve, what… what do you mean by that?” Her voice is shaky, filled with fear and the horrible dawning of what he's implying. Steve huffs and turns to look in the direction of the front windows, eyes distant.

“It’s good that they’re not talking to me. Why… Why should they?” He looks back at her, determination shining in his eyes. Robin realizes, with frightening clarity, that he’s confident in it. That he believes it. She swallows the forming lump in her throat.

“What do I do for them other than free rides or snacks? Nothing,” he laughs, a wet, hollow thing devoid of its usual happiness. “They haven’t asked me for anything in three weeks, Rob. Not once. Every time I ask they shut me down or… or tell me Eddie already offered. It’s… fuck, it hurts so bad but what else can I do but respect their decision to leave me?”

He rubs a hand harshly over his face, his skin turning pink from the pressure and force, before pushing his hair back. He looks away, murmuring, “it’s for the best, anyway” that Robin is sure she’s not supposed to hear but does anyhow.

She pushes him back, holding him out at arms length and ignoring the look she gets in return, and looks him up and down. His normally crisp polo is rumpled under his work vest and half tucked in his jeans. Dirt stains the once-white laces of his Nikes, and mud is caked on the side of his soles. His hands tremble at his sides before clenching into fists, as if trying to stop the shaking, before resigning to tap an unsteady rhythm against his thighs.

She looks up at his face, notices the tenseness in his jaw as it stays sealed shut. How his hair lays flat and greasy on his head as if he spends his days running his fingers through it. His eyes flicker around, as if unable to stay in one spot for too long. As if they’re looking for something. Watching. Waiting.

Most importantly, she notices a sadness in his eyes she’s never seen before. Not when he would talk about Nancy or his parents or his past. It shows in the lifelessness that’s found its way behind his pupils, in the flatness of his gaze. It shows in the deep bags under his eyes and the crease between his brows. That earlier thought about how he resembles a puppy returns, however instead of a confused puppy, it’s one that’s been kicked too many times to count and just wants someone to rub its little head.

It’s those sad eyes that make her realize that he’s used to this, to people leaving. All those times they spent together, curled against each other in the comfort of his big plush mattress after Starcourt and whispering secrets into the night, come back to her.

How he told her his parents left him with nannies and babysitters when they would go on trips until he was ten and his father decided he was old enough to fend for himself in their absence. How he had to call the police just so someone would tell him how to work the stove. How they missed his first birthday at thirteen, then Thanksgiving the following year, then his sixteenth birthday—which they tried making up for by buying him a car—then both Thanksgiving and Christmas the next year until it was a surprise they showed up for anything at all. How they missed his high school graduation.

How he cried through telling her he handed his heart to Nancy, giving her everything he could to make her happy, only for it to be left bleeding on the bathroom floor. How she cheated on him with Jonathan without giving an explanation for why or when or how, only a silent understanding of ‘yeah, I’m with him now. We’re over’ during the end of the world. How she never even said sorry.

It was one instance, when Robin woke up to Steve thrashing in his checkered sheets as his throat screamed out into the darkness of his room, that she’ll always remember. She had to sit on his chest to keep him from moving and accidentally hurting himself in the process. She did her best to stay clear of any still-sore wounds while holding his face in her hands, stroking his cheeks as she waited for him to calm down.

Eventually, those tired eyes opened, glistening with tears yet to be shed and Robin’s heart ached for him. She did her best to smile, to bring some comfort to his panicked mind.

“Hey, dingus, it’s me,” she soothed. “It’s Robin.”

“... Robin?” He muttered, voice fragile and raw from screaming. She nodded, even if he couldn’t quite see her yet.

“Yeah, that’s me. We’re in your room right now, in your bed,” she informed, and Robin could see the shame rising to his face in real time. “You had a nightmare.”

“Fuck, Robs, I’m so sorry,” Steve apologized, moving to try and get up but she shook her head, refusing to budge even an inch. Despite him being twice her size and having the ability to easily move her if needed, he relented and went slack underneath her, almost completely boneless save for the ever-present tenseness that never quite goes away.

“None of that, Steve,” she admonished. “Nightmares are normal, especially for us. You wanna tell me what happened?”

Steve looked away and shook his head. Robin nodded, accepting his refusal, and climbed off to flop down beside him, bouncing a little on the expensive mattress. She propped her head up on her hand, looking down at him as he fiddled with the edge of the sheet. Robin quickly learned that his fiddling meant he had something on his mind, so she nudged him and gave him an expectant look. He stayed quiet, and just when she thought he wasn’t going to speak, he did.

“You know, sometimes I think the world would be better off without me,” he murmured, and Robin looked at him absolutely horrified.

“Steve, you can’t actually believe that—“

“No, Robbie,” he interrupted and paused to shake his head as tears filled his eyes. “I do, ‘cause what am I good for other than nice eye candy for the elderly ladies at the local grocery store and a stand-up athlete for asshole dads to compare their sons to?”

Steve shook his head and clenched his eyes closed.

“No one stays. No one. It’s just been me for eighteen years and I… I’m sick of it, Robin. I’m just… I’m so tired.”

When he looked at her again, she could see it. That tiredness was etched onto his face, found in the creases around his eyes, the tenseness of his mouth, and the deep purple bags beneath his brown irises.

“I know,” Robin reassured, even though she didn’t. Not really. “We’ll get through it, okay?”

“‘We’?” Steve questioned, and Robin gave him a smile.

“Yeah, ‘we’. You’re never getting rid of me, dingus,” she claimed. “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Oh no,” he said sarcastically, giving her a small grin that let her know he was grateful, either for the change in subject or the fact that Robin was there for him. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Guess we’ll have to find out, hm?” It was a silent question, one asking him, ‘will you stay around long enough to find out? Will I be enough for you until you do?’

Steve smiled and pulled her down to rest on his chest, both of their arms finding their way to wrap around each other.

“Guess we will,” he whispered into her hair, and it sounded a lot like, ‘for you, I will. For you, always.’

She never forgot that conversation, and the sad way his voice quivered has plagued her mind ever since then.

Now, the kids are joining the devastatingly long list of people that have left. The kids who he has quite literally sacrificed himself for time and time again. The kids he has given countless rides to, given his time and money and sanity to just to make them happy. The kids he cares for with his whole being. The kids he loves.

That lump returns, causing pressure to form behind her eyes as she looks at her best friend. Her platonic with a capital P soulmate. The only man she’ll ever love. Tears well in her eyes, clouding her vision and making her face contort. She’s always been an ugly crier but she thinks this is justified.

“Robs? What’s wr—”

She cuts him off by wrapping her arms around his waist, pulling him into a harsh hug. She knows he doesn’t like sudden touch—as proven by him stiffening under her—but she gives herself a pass on this one.

“Robin?”

She buries her face in his chest, silently crying for him, and only begins to calm down once hesitant arms wrap around her.

“Shh… Robbie, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, okay?” He promises, and his earnest tone makes her almost cry harder because yeah, he’s there for her, but who is there for him?

She sniffs and pulls away, hands coming up to wipe away her snot and tears, and hopes he doesn’t mind the wet patch on the front of his shirt. Steve’s hands drop down to her waist, squeezing and rubbing her hips with his thumbs, as her hands raise to hold his face between them.

“We’re going to fix this, Steve. You don’t deserve all this—this shit that’s been thrown at you,” she vows, squeezing his cheeks to emphasize her point.

“It’s… It’s fine, Robs. You don’t have to do anything, it’s okay,” he tries to protest but it only furthers her determination. She shakes his head in her hands.

“If I have to throttle your head to make you realize that I love you then I will do it, dingus,” she promises, shaking his head again to prove her point. “Screw all your concussions.” She smiles at him, something small and filled with love for the man before him.

Steve breaks.

His face contorts much like Robins had earlier; eyebrows scrunched together, eyes clenched shut, nose wrinkling, and mouth a flat, wavering line. Ugly, heart-wrenching sobs claw their way out his throat, echoing off the metal shelves that surround them, and she knows that this was a long time coming. All of his sadness, his sorrow, is coming out through the tears that drip down his cheeks and onto the filthy carpet, the snot clogging his nose, and the small, breathy whimpers that pass through his lips.

His head drops to her shoulder, making his back arch forward in a way that cannot possibly be comfortable but he doesn’t seem to mind. She wraps her arms over his shoulders and his hands tighten their grip on her waist before resolving to squeezing her middle. Robin lets him cry it out, knowing firsthand that sometimes it’s all you need. Soon, his breaths get choppy and sporadic, so she begins rubbing her hands up and down his back in long, slow strokes in an attempt to ease the panic.

“Match your breathing to my hands, okay? Up for in and down for out,” she instructs, demonstrating by moving her hands up and down while breathing in with her movements.

“I-I don’t—“ his voice breaks.

“Yes, you can. C’mon, let's give it a try. Ready? In—" she moves her hands up. Steve struggles through a breath, only getting halfway before a sob rips through his throat and he’s forced to exhale.

“That’s good! Try again for me, babe, you can do it. Take it slow. Now, in—“ she rubs her hands up again and, this time, he follows through. “Good, good. Now out—“ her hands drop slowly down his back as he breathes out, shaky but it’s there.

“You got it! Let’s keep doing that, okay? Just focus on my hands, there you go,” she instructs, keeping her hands at a steady, calm pace. Steve does his best to follow, getting off track when a harsh sob cuts off his breathing, but he quickly calms down. He sniffs and pulls away, a mirror image of what she did just a few minutes earlier, and gives her a small but genuine smile.

“Thanks, Robin. I’m sorry you had to see that—“ Steve tries to apologize but Robin firmly shakes her head.

“Nope! None of that crap, okay? You’re allowed to cry, Steve, especially over something like this,” she insists. Steve wipes his face and, in all honesty, he looks like shit. But it's marginally better than what he looked like before so she’ll take it.

“Now, what kind of pizza do you want?”

“Wh… what?” Steve asks, confused. Robin rolls her eyes.

“Pizza! What kind of pizza do you want, Steve?”

“Robs, it’s like nine in the morning—“

“Not for right now, dingus!” She exclaims. Honestly, this guy. “For our movie night tonight!”

“But we didn’t have one set up for tonight… Right?”

“No, but I’m initiating one! We need some decompress time and a longer conversation than the one we just had about all this,” she informs. Steve rolls his eyes and smiles.

“You don’t have to, Robbie, I’m sure you’ve got better things to do—“

“Nothing is more important to me right now than comforting my best friend, Steve,” she insists, leaving no room for question. Steve holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, okay, just making sure,” he defends. A small smile graces his face. “And uh… can we get pepperoni?”

Robin softens and pats his cheeks.

“Absolutely.”

The rest of the shift was spent in comfortable silence. Steve seemed to be in a very non-talkative mood and she respected that. He mostly spaced out, staring out the front windows or at a random spot on the wall while mindlessly fidgeting with something. Robin took one for the team and helped all the customers, giving him some much needed space. After that morning, it felt cruel to subject him to customer service.

When their long, boring shift was over, Steve insisted she put her bike in his trunk. When she tried to protest that she could just bike over there, he rolled his eyes and gave her the bitchiest look possible.

“Robin, I love you, but I’m not waiting for half an hour while you and your giraffe legs hit every pothole on the way over to my house when I could just drive you.”

Needless to say that after ten minutes of two fully grown adults struggling to get her bike in the trunk after a long shift at work, they were exhausted. Well, Steve was exhausted since he did most of the grunt work while she complained about how long it was taking but it was a team effort, she thinks.

They pull into his drive, the house lit up on the inside from nearly every room despite it being empty. Robin knows it’s because he hates the dark, hates the feeling of being alone. She doesn’t comment on it. Never has.

She rushes to the phone once they get inside, dialing the pizza place from memory and recites their order. She hears Steve huff from the living room followed by a soft thump, presumably him flopping on the couch. Hanging up the phone, she shrugs off her shoes and work vest before standing next to him and bouncing on her feet.

“Can I help you?” He looks up at her expectantly, tired eyes finding hers but looking infinitely more at peace. She grins.

“Let’s make a pillow fort!” She exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off the couch. Steve groans.

“C’mon, Robs, that’s totally not necessary,” he complains despite having a smile on his face. She tugs harder, pulling him towards the hall closet where the spare sheets and pillows are stored, and ignores him. Throwing open the door with her free hand, she turns to face him.

“Suck it up and help me carry these, dingus.”

She throws a stack of sheets at his face, snickering when they mess up his hair, and grabs a few pillows. Haul successful, she heads back to the living room, Steve giving her an over dramatic eye roll for the trouble.

“We can just sit on the couch, you know.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She questions before gesturing to the coffee table. “Now move that out of the way so we can get this thing started!”

Steve grumbles but does as he’s told. After a few minutes, they have a completed pillow fort. It’s a little wonky, just big enough for two people if they scrunch together, but it’s perfect. It’s angled directly at the TV, the seats of the chairs holding up the roof acting as personal trays for their drinks.

As soon as the last pillow is in place, the doorbell rings. Before Steve can move, Robin jumps up, rushing over to her vest and grabbing a ten out of the inside pocket. She ignores Steve's protests and opens the door, all but throwing the money at the delivery guy before grabbing the pizza and telling him to keep the change. Pizza acquired, she bounds back to the fort and flops down, placing the warm box between the two of them. In her absence, Steve has keyed up Pretty in Pink, their go-to feel-better movie.

Over the course of the movie, they eat their pizza while critiquing the characters and relationships, plot holes and bad acting, and make up their own responses to dialogue until both of them can barely breathe through their laughter. Steve returns to himself a little bit, somewhere around the first hour mark, and Robin feels accomplished that she got some of her friend back.

Once the movie is over and the pizza is gone, they lay in the dark under the protection of the fort. The blue screen from the TV reflects off the white sheets, turning their skin pale and glowing. Steve is on his back, one arm behind his head and the other resting lazily on his stomach. He looks soft, face lax and eyes a little droopy as if he’s already half asleep. Robin turns on her side to face him, one hand propping her head up while the other raises to carefully pick up Steve’s. He turns his head to look at her, and she knows he knows it’s time to talk. Really talk.

A beat of silence, then, “Why didn’t you tell me, Steve?”

He sighs and she can feel the movement under their joined hands on his stomach. He’s silent for a moment, and Robin watches as hesitation clouds his eyes.

“I thought it wasn’t important enough for you to know,” he murmurs. He’s not looking at her, instead focusing on running his fingers along hers. She stays quiet.

“I… I thought I deserved it, still do. There’s just so many feelings in here,“ he pauses to tap his heart with a sad smile, “and I don’t know what to do with them.”

“So tell me about them. What’s the biggest one right now?” Steve huffs.

“It… it sounds stupid but there's this intense misery all up here,” he gestures to his head, "paired right up there with this bitter… resentment,” a dry laugh falls from his lips and he shakes his head. “God, that sounds pathetic.”

Robin pinches his arm and diligently ignores his offended “ow!”.

“You’re not pathetic, dingus,” she corrects. She taps his heart. “Tell me about them.”

Steve sighs, eyes closing. He takes a deep breath.

“I… I have this—this sadness that just doesn’t go away. It’s like… like it knows when I’m happy and just sucks it all up.”

Robin nods and holds his hand, squeezes it to provide some comfort for him. She knows this isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. She hesitates on the next question.

“…How long have you felt like this?” Steve chews on his lip for a moment.

“As long as I can remember.”

Fuck.

Distantly, memories from a time after the Mall come flooding back.

‘Yeah,’ she thinks, remembering what he confessed that night. ‘Fuck indeed.’

“Even when I’m with people I love, it’s always there. It’s…” Steve pauses, furrows his eyebrows. “It’s like this… this dark cloud constantly floating above me that always looks like it’s going to rain, but you never know for sure if it will or not. I’m…”

Steve trails off, sucks in a harsh breath, and looks at her. His voice comes out just above a whisper, a weak thing that if she wasn’t right in front of him, Robin wouldn’t hear.

“I’m scared I’m not gonna feel happy again, Robs.”

That… That’s what brings Robin close to tears again. The quiet way he admits it, like he doesn’t want to say it too loud in fear the universe will make it come true, is enough for her eyes to sting.

“Steve…”

“I know,” he chuckles wetly, hand coming up to run through his hair as he looks away. “I know how it sounds, Robbie. Trust me, I do. If I could fix it, I would, but I don’t know how—“

“You don’t have to fix it, Steve,” she interrupts. “You’re not broken, this… this is just another part of you. One that you are just now letting yourself show. You don’t have to be the perfect, put-together, level-headed person all the time, and no one expects that of you.”

She pauses to look him properly in the eyes, trying to drive her point home. “You’re allowed to be sad, Steve. You’re allowed to feel, you know that, right?”

Steve looks at her, tears falling steadily down his cheeks as he shakes his head. He didn’t know. Robin feels her heart breaking for him, a deep pang in her chest as her soulmate cries in front of her. She wipes his tears away with her thumb, noting how his eyes flutter shut at the touch.

“Keep going,” she gently commands. She runs her hand through his hair, scratching a little at his scalp when he leans into it. He huffs, air fanning across her face.

“It’s really more of a frustration but I… I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me. Why the people I love keep fucking leaving me. I mean… I’m the common factor, right? So I’m the problem,” Steve ventures. “Always have been.”

The last part is added under his breath but Robin hears it. He’s always had a bit of a self-deprecating streak but this is something else. Something deeper, more real.

She gives a small tug at his hair to signal him to keep going.

“All I wanted was for my parents to be proud of me. I worked myself to death just trying to get an ounce of affection, of love, but it was useless. I was never good enough.”

A pause. He sniffs.

“Then Nancy came along and I thought, ‘yeah, I can love her and she can love me back,’” a small, fond smile graces his face, one he always gets when he talks about his past with Nancy. One that means he’s remembering the good times before everything went downhill. There’s no longing there, not anymore.

“I thought that I could finally show someone all these feelings kept inside of me and get some in return,” Steve quietly confesses, then pauses again. That fond look sours, and his mouth forms a stern line. “Guess that was bullshit, huh?”

He spits out ‘bullshit’ like it's laced with poison, followed by a hollow laugh. He closes his eyes, takes a breath, and keeps going.

“I thought she was it for me but she… She wanted Jonathan. She wanted someone better, and who am I to blame her for that? I’d want someone better if I was her, too.”

“You did everything right with the situation you were given, Steve. It’s perfectly okay to want some normalcy after what you saw, what you went through. You and Nancy just don’t deal with trauma the same way, and that’s okay too,” Robin reassures. She lets some bitterness seep into her voice, because yes, she is mad at Nancy on Steve’s behalf. “What’s not okay is the fact that she cheated on you, and you’re allowed to be hurt by that.”

He pats her hand, a silent understanding. She nods. “Keep going.”

“After that, I tried to become a better person. A better influence for the kids to be around. I wanted to be someone they could go to, a figure they could always trust and lean on for anything. Someone I wish I had as a kid,” there’s a sadness in his voice as he says that, a tone he always gets when he talks about his childhood. Robin taps her fingers against his scalp to get him to look at her. She smiles at him, and he gives a small one in return. He keeps talking.

“They need to feel safe in this shitty town that decides losers and freaks should be shunned, that they’re bad for being a little different,” his voice is filled with anger as he grinds the words out, words she has a suspicion are directed at the people who pay the bills for the very house they’re laying in.

“But none of it ever mattered because they found someone else to do that for them, to be that for them.” Robin gives him a confused look.

“Who?”

��Eddie,” Steve reveals, face forming a small smile as the name slips through his lips. He looks… fond, in a sad way.

It only confuses Robin further.

“I don’t blame him for any of this, by the way,” he clarifies. “I doubt he even realizes it. And they… They’re just kids, I can’t blame them for choosing the better option.

“Eddie shares their interests in their little nerd game, something I can’t even begin to comprehend. He’s funny and charming and outgoing, and he's so, so good with the kids,” he smiles once he rambles about Eddie, a small thing that Robin realizes is similar to the one he wears when he talks about his past with Nancy. Except this one… this one is bigger. Better. Real.

As if realizing he’s rambling, his face loses that bit of brightness as he looks away.

“I’m mostly just angry at myself,” he admits. “I just want my family back. Even though they’ve made it very clear they don’t want me in return… I still want them.”

He looks up at her then, face contorted with resentment she can tell is only directed towards himself. “Isn’t that fucked up? Isn’t that just perfectly fucking tragic?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one she doesn’t need to answer. She can’t say anything to help, anyway. Steve wipes a hand harshly over his eyes, irritating the skin and making it red. He lets out an emotionless huff, sniffing a bit through his nose. He looks… exhausted.

“Steve,” she whispers. He looks at her, and she finally asks one of the questions that’s been bugging her since this morning. “When was the last time you slept?”

He stares at her blankly, eyes darting around as if he's visualizing the math he’s doing in his head. All of the fanfare tells her he’s not sure when, and her suspicion is confirmed when he shrugs.

“I uh… don’t really remember. The days kinda all blend together, ya know?”

She nods. She does know, the days after their run-ins with the Upside Down always seem to pass by in a blur. The doctors say it’s something to do with trauma, the brain needing time to fully process everything that happened and causing the time to slip by. This time there is no Upside Down, no mortal peril or end of the world, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less important.

She’s realized a lapse in post-nightmare phone calls from Steve recently, but just figured it was because he was getting better. They usually dwindle down to two or three a week after a few months, something they’ve all found to be relatively normal after what they went through. She never considered that it was because he wasn’t sleeping at all.

“That um… well, that kinda leads me to my next point. Uh…” Steve huffs, running a hand through his hair—something she knows he does with he’s nervous. She waits.

“I’ve not been sleeping because I’m not exactly… at home… every night.”

What?

“What?” Robin questions, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. An idea comes to her head, and she smirks internally.

“Where the hell are you going then? Are you,” she gasps, hand clutching mock pearls around her neck, "fulfilling your title as the resident man whore of Hawkins? Hooking up with the female population while living under my roof?” She waves her finger at him, giving him an overdramatic grumpy face and shaking her head in fake disappointment. “How dare you, young man!”

Steve laughs at her declaration, face a little pink from the accusation, and shakes his head.

“No, Robbie, I’m not ‘hooking up’ or whatever,” he rolls his eyes, as if finding the claim absolutely absurd. Even if it’s already half true.

“Actually, I’ve been uh… patrolling. Hawkins. Um, at night and stuff…”

Robin blinks.

“What does,” she pauses and makes sure to physically add quotation marks with her fingers, “‘and stuff’ mean exactly?”

“It means that I’m trying to be proactive, okay? Every time the Upside Down has come for us, we’ve been unprepared. Surprised. If I can prevent that from happening, give everyone a bit of a heads up, then it’ll be worth it,” he explains. “I know El–Jane? Whatever–said she closed it but we’ve thought that before and it’s come back so… better safe than sorry.”

Steve flops his head back on the pillow behind him, staring up at the sheet ceiling rather than at her. Robin doesn’t mind, as long as it gets him to talk. Kinda gross she can see his nose hairs now, though. He sighs.

“I’ve been going out at night with my bat and checking all the gates, all the spots they’ve come through before, to make sure they’re gone. Every night. Sometimes I don’t finish until early morning, sometimes it’s only a couple hours but… yeah,” he finishes ineloquently.

So, he’s a dumbass. His intentions are good, don’t get her wrong, but the execution… is not the greatest. No wonder he’s exhausted. Speaking of—

“Wait, so when do you actually sleep?”

“Only when I can’t physically stand to be awake anymore. My body kinda… shuts down,” Steve says, like it’s nothing. Like that’s not the most depressing thing she’s ever heard. Like it’s not entirely unhealthy. He huffs a laugh.

“The first time it happened, it scared the shit outta me. Thought I was dying. Turns out you’re not supposed to be awake for like… four days straight,” he recalls, face light like he’s talking about a fond memory instead of passing out from exhaustion. “On the bright side, I don’t have as many nightmares now. Don’t think my brain can keep up with all that.”

His version of a ‘bright side’ is decidedly equivalent to the darkest depths of the Mariana Trench because what the actual fuck—

“Steve…” she trails off, voice wobbly with fear for her best friend. She begs to know why he’s doing this, why he’s risking his life and sanity again, why he always seems to play the self-sacrificial card even when it’s not necessary. Even when no one asks him to. “Why?”

She expects him to crumble again, to fall apart at the realization that he’s tearing himself apart on his own volition. She expects him to cry out apologies, to scream and rant and hit things just to let all his emotions out. She expects her platonic soulmate, who carries the weight of too-heavy emotions on his shoulders and in his heart, to show his cards and let it all out.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he closes his eyes. He, at this moment, looks peaceful. Content. Like his world isn’t crumbling down around him. Like he—

Like he’s accepted it.

Accepted the anger and hate and rejection from the people he loves. Accepted the endless nights of walking and hunting and searching just in case. Accepted keeping all of this—his thoughts, his emotions, his vulnerability, his love—to himself.

Accepted that his love will never be returned, so why even try to live for it anymore?

The last shards of her heart shatter completely.

“Even though they don’t want me anymore, I have to keep them safe. It’s my job. It’s what I’m meant—what I’m expected to do,” he insists. His voice is an even, calm tone. No waver, no hesitation. “I’m so scared that it’ll come back and I’ll—we’ll be too late.”

She doesn’t miss his corrections, but doesn’t point them out either.

“You know it’s not all up to you, right? There’s other people—me for one, Joyce and Hop, Wayne and Eddie, Nancy and Jonathan, and… fuck it, probably that Murray guy too—that are willing to help. That can help,” she suggests gently. “You don’t have to fight all your battles alone, ya know. Sometimes you need a little help, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve has his eyes open now and is looking at her. Not in a sad way, or ashamed or angry or anything of the sort. He’s just… looking. Looking just to look.

“I… I think somewhere deep down I know that, that you’re all here, but it’s just so hard to accept. It’s hard to believe it, Robs,” he confesses. “I’m sorry.”

Robin smiles at him, a soft thing that feels like melted butter on pancakes or a warm summer morning. She pats his cheek a couple times.

“Stop saying sorry, dingus, or I really will follow through with that promise of throttling you into another concussion.”

Steve laughs, short and sweet as if it took him by surprise, and shakes his head a little.

“Sorry, it’s just a habit.”

“You just said it again!”

“Fuck, sorry—"

“Steve!“

“Sorry—“

“Steve!“

“Sor—“ Robin cuts him off by pinching his lips together with her fingers, making him look like a deformed baby duckling. The imagery has her snorting and Steve follows soon after, only laughing because she is, until they’re both clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

He looks younger like this, when he’s laughing. Like the Upside Down never happened. Like his father never happened. Like he’s just a kid.

She has the striking realization that he is just a kid. He’s only nineteen, barely even a legal adult, yet he’s seen enough shit for a lifetime. Really, he’s been an adult for far longer than two years, far longer than anyone should have been at his age. He barely had time to just be a kid but now, here, when he’s laughing with her, so carefree and innocent… she thinks he might finally be letting himself feel like one again.

To think that earlier in the day, she was mad at his dumb ass for not driving her to work. Funny how a few hours can change someone’s whole perspective, huh?

Speaking of…

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the duffle and box in your car?”

Steve’s face falls, and that light he held from earlier has all but vanished. He huffs a small laugh.

“I don’t even know why that’s still in there, to be honest with you,” he confesses. Clear that he isn’t going to continue, Robin nudges him with her hand. He sighs.

“Sometimes when I go out at night, I don’t really uh… remember everything,” he starts. “I kinda zone out a bit? Like my head isn’t screwed all the way to my body and the connection’s all wonky.”

“Babe, it sounds like you’re dissociating,” she offers. At his confused face, she elaborates. “It’s when you kinda disconnect from yourself, and a lot of times you can’t really remember what happens.”

He nods. “So I guess I do,” he gestures to her, “that sometimes. Or, well—every time, really…” he trails off, then flicks his eyes to meet hers.

“One night, I just… I guess I needed to get out. Out of the house, out of Hawkins, who knows,” he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I grabbed everything I needed—or thought I needed, I guess, and shoved them in my car. I don’t remember how I got there, only that I came back in my head at the edge of town with my car pulled off on the side of the road just in front of the ‘Leaving Hawkins’ sign.

“I just sat there in my car and thought that I could just… keep going. Kept thinking that I could just follow the road, see where it takes me. Go around the curve and disappear into the trees. Leave everyone behind. Not like they’d care, anyway.”

“Hey,” she smacks his arm. “I would care, dingus. I don’t know what I’d do if you just disappeared on me.”

She doesn’t like thinking about it, about the fact that he could leave. Part of her knows it would be good for him to get out of town, to not let it hold him back from doing whatever he wanted with his life. Another part of her—the more selfish part—wants him to stay. Wants him to be with her for everything. Wants him to be there when she gets her first girlfriend, when she gets married, when she has kids. Wants him to be her other half for the rest of their lives.

The thought of him just disappearing, though… that’s one she hasn’t even considered being an option. He’s a constant in her life, always there when she needs him, and sometimes even when she doesn’t. He’s her rock, just like she’s his. Life without him… it’s something she can’t really comprehend.

“I know you would, Robs,” he begins, voice as soft as the smile on his face. “You’re one of the reasons I turned the car around that night.”

Fuck, she’s gonna cry.

“Jesus, how can you just say stuff like that?” She sniffles, not really crying but her eyes are definitely stinging. “Fuck, that’s like… the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Steve laughs and reaches up to ruffle her hair. “Don’t take it too seriously, you’re only one of the reasons.”

“I still count though!”

“Yeah, Robbie, you still count.”

Robin collects herself before flopping on Steve’s chest, right ear next to his heart. She likes listening to it, to the deep thu-thump that proves he’s alive. It always seems to calm her down.

One of Steve’s hands comes up to play with her hair and she smiles. She traces little shapes on his chest while she tries to figure out how to ask her next question. However, her thinking face must be obvious because Steve tugs her hair a little and dramatically sighs.

“Just spit it out, Robs.”

“I’m getting there! Just…” she hesitates. “What’s in the shoebox? Like… your favorite pair of shoes or something?”

She couldn’t fathom why in the hell he would bring shoes of all things with him out of town, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings if that was the case. But, judging by the incredulous look on his face, shoes are definitely not an essential item for his escape.

“Have I… never shown you the shoebox?”

“Um…” she pauses. “No? I’m pretty sure I would remember that, Steve.”

“Huh,” he huffs. “Thought I did… ”

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“Back to the point.”

“Right, yeah,” he takes a breath. “It’s everything the kids have ever given me. Polaroids, notes, letters, stickers, trinkets. You name it, it's probably in there. Pretty sure there's some arcade coins somewhere in there too.”

“Aw, Steve,” she starts. “That’s so sweet.”

Steve smiles a little, then—for some weird reason—blushes.

“That’s not.. all that’s in the box,” he begins. “There’s stuff from you, obviously, like our friendship bracelets and your little notes reminding me to eat or sleep or shower. Plus tons of pictures from your disposable camera you had a while back—“

“Wait, you kept those?” She interrupts. He nods. “Huh… I thought you just threw them all away.”

“Why the hell would I do that? They’re from you, Robs, I would never throw them away.”

“I mean, some of them were really bad. Like… I’m pretty sure they were all blurry in some way and I’m almost positive there’s a picture of just my thumb in there.”

Steve smiles. “There is. It’s my favorite one.”

She hits him. “Yeah, yeah, asshole.”

“No really, it is! You wanna know why?”

“Sure, why?”

“Cause in the bottom right corner you can see your smile. You were trying to take a picture of yourself, I think, but your thumb got in the way of the lens,” he grins and looks down at her. “Sometimes I take it out when I’m feeling sad just to remind myself what your smile looks like.”

God fucking damnit there he goes again.

“You know, I think you’re just trying to make me cry at this point,” she starts. Steve rolls his eyes at her.

“Just being honest, Robbie.”

“I know, shithead, that’s what’s making me cry,” she rubs her eyes, willing the stinging to go away. “What else is in there?”

“There’s still stuff from Nancy, I think. There’s one of her flashcards, a ticket stub from our first date to the movies, and there's a ribbon in there that I’m pretty sure she used to wear in her hair. But… I don’t look at them nearly as much as I do yours or… or Eddie’s.”

“Eddie’s?” She questions, because what the fuck?

“Mhm… you know how he likes giving out little trinkets to people?”

She nods. She does know, her dresser is full of them; shiny soda tabs hooked together in a little chain, bouncy balls from the little restaurant machines, and rocks that Eddie claimed were “so cool, Birdie, just look!”. There’s a little sailor figurine that’s her current favorite, given to her by Eddie shortly after her and Steve recounted their Scoops experience.

“Well, they’re all in that box. Every last one of them. All the bottle caps, buttons, D&D figurines, drawings, notes, everything,” a smile finds its way to his face, a small thing she isn’t sure he knows he’s doing. “I almost need another box just for everything he’s given me.”

“But…” she begins, hesitating. “Why put them in a box?”

“In case they come home,” Steve answers, plain and simple. She knows he’s talking about his parents, about how if they found even one little weakness of his, he’s done for.

She remembers one morning in the winter when she had woken up in Steve’s bed to the sound of distant yelling. The spot Steve normally would have been in was cold, and when she sat up she could tell that the voice was one she didn’t recognize.

She shrugged on one of Steve’s sweatshirts to fight the chill, the fabric draping her frame as she snuck down the hallway. Robin froze when she heard a sharp ‘smack’, followed by a thud. Her stomach sank and she couldn’t move. It was like her brain had disconnected from her body, leaving her limbs rooted to the spot until it came back online. The voice was still yelling, but Robin was too out of it to make sense of it in her head.

Only when she heard the slam of the front door and an engine start up did she begin to move. Thundering down the stairs, she ran down the hallway and froze at the entrance to the kitchen.

Steve was sitting on the floor, knees pressed up against his chest with his arms draped loosely over them as a bright pink whelp formed on his cheek. He was still in his pajamas and his hair was draped messily over his face, half of it pushed back as if he attempted to make it look presentable.

Robin took in a shaky breath.

“Steve…”

At the sound of her voice, Steve’s head shot up and his eyes blew wide. He immediately covered the red mark with his hand as he got to his feet.

“Robs, this isn’t what it looks like,” he stated, but Robin could tell by the waver in his voice that yes, it was.

She took a slow step towards him, holding her arms out as if he was a wild rabbit she was trying to catch and he was at risk of running away any minute. By the tense line of his shoulders and the way his eyes were flitting over her face and around the room, he was very much prepared to do just that.

“I know,” she tried to reassure, and after another step closer she could tell it was working. She stopped moving and just held out her arms, waiting. Steve collapsed into them not a moment later, chest hitching with cut-off breaths as his mind panicked. She rubbed soothing hands up and down his back.

After he had calmed down some, and his breathing was closer to normal, she broke the silence.

“Who did this, Steve?”

He gripped the back of her sweatshirt in his hands so tight, she feared he would rip the fabric. His voice came out quiet, as if saying it out loud would change everything. In a way, maybe it did.

“My… my dad,” he confessed. “I-It’s not bad, though. I knew he was in a bad mood but I pushed it anyways and he—"

“Woah, woah, slow down before you launch yourself into another panic attack,” Robin interrupted. “Steve, is this the first time it’s happened?”

“Him yelling at me? No, that’s kinda all he—“

“No, Steve,” she cut him off. “Is that the first time he’s hit you?”

Silence. Then, a small shake of his head.

Robin clenched her eyes closed as they began to sting and wondered just how long he’s been going through this, then wondered if he was doing so alone.

“Steve… does anyone know?” Robin asked, and Steve only shook his head again.

“I think Hop suspected something when I was younger, he used to come around a lot after they would come home and leave, but… he stopped coming around when I got older. Guess he thought I outgrew it,” Steve explained, and Robin’s heart ached for him.

“How long?”

“… as long as I can remember,” came his shaky whisper, and Robin only squeezed him tighter in response.

“You don’t deserve this, Steve,” she insisted. Steve immediately began to shake his head.

“No, I… I do, Robin, I was asking for it this time. He was just doing what he needed to in order to get his point across. It was my fault for trying to talk back,” Steve defended. Robin furrowed her eyebrows.

“Steve, what was he yelling about?”

“That’s… that’s not important—“

“Just answer the question, dingus,” she insisted. Steve sighed.

“He was mad that I didn’t decorate for the holidays, said that we had a reputation in this neighborhood and I was ruining it. He said he expected me to do better or else next year, I wouldn’t even have a house to decorate.”

“Steve… you realize that’s wrong , right?” She asked, but Steve just looked at her blankly.

“No, it’s a pretty simple concept. I knew I needed to decorate but between the gatherings and parties and taking the kids shopping, I didn’t have time. I should’ve made time, but I didn’t and that’s on me,” Steve explained, and Robin wanted to throttle him.

“Steve, you shouldn’t be expected to do any of that. If your parents wanted the house decorated that badly they should have called someone to come and do it or—god forbid—actually do it themselves,” she countered.

“But-“

“No ‘but’s, Steve. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it until you believe me; you don’t deserve this,” Robin stated. “Can you repeat that for me?”

“I… I don’t deserve this,” Steve muttered hesitantly.

“Good, again.”

“I don’t deserve this,” he repeated, more confident but not as strong as she’d like.

“One more time.”

“I don’t… holy shit, I don’t deserve this, Robbie,” he finished with a whisper as the words registered in his mind, taking root in the folds of his brain.

“Damn right you don’t,” she pulled back to grab his shoulders, looking him in the eyes. “We’re going to get through this.”

Steve nodded. “We’re going to get through this.”

They smiled at each other, and Robin knew that they both meant it.

“… Robin?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“I… I love you.”

“I love you too, dingus.”

After that night, Robin had made it her mission to get Steve out of the house as much as possible when his parents were home, even going as far as keeping him at her house for a whole weekend when they stopped by unexpectedly. But that fear never quite goes away, and some small part of him, she thinks, will always be afraid of his father.

“I can’t let them take away the last little things that make me happy. I just… I don’t think I could survive that, Robs.”

“I know.”

They sit in silence for a moment, and Robin thinks he’s done talking until she sees him bite his lip—another sign he’s thinking about saying something.

“Then there’s the box," he starts. She blinks.

“There’s another box?” She questions. Jesus, how many could he need?

“Not a physical box, no, but one in here,” he taps his head. “It’s where I put all the things in my mind that's too big to think about by myself.”

“What’s in this box?” He smiles a fond little smile.

“Eddie.”

Um… the fuck?

“Eddie?” She asks, because she must have misheard him, right?

But Steve just nods his head, his smile growing. “Eddie.”

“Okay… what about him?”

“I… okay, I need to preface this by saying that uh… I think I like boys, too,” he confesses, voice quiet as if he’s waiting for some kind of retribution for his words. Robin, on the other hand, is in the middle of a spontaneous cardiac event because what the everloving fuck?

“What?!” She screeches, sitting up suddenly and causing Steve’s hand to fall from its place in her hair. He winces due to their close proximity. “Wait, wait, wait… you mean to tell me that you, Steve Harrington, are into guys?”

Steve shrinks back on himself a little at her disbelieving tone, face closing off, and she can see in real time the mask quickly sliding into place. Immediately, she backtracks.

“Wait, no, I didn’t mean it like that!” She rushes out, face flushing. “Obviously, it’s okay for you to like guys, I mean it would be totally hypocritical of me to say you can’t. Not that I have any say in who you can or can’t like anyway! I mean, you’re your own person after all, it’s just… very unexpected and I—"

"Robin," Steve interrupts. "You're rambling again."

"Oh," she breathes out and snaps her jaw shut, giving him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, uh… keep going."

“Well, it’s um… It’s not really that unexpected on my end,” Steve reveals, and Robin’s mind blows a little bit further. “When I was younger, I never really understood why being gay was frowned upon by some people because I just… I felt that way about guys sometimes too.”

And that was… what?

“Tommy was the first guy who really stood out in my head. We became friends in grade school and he just… he was always there. I remember looking at him sometimes and wanting to count his freckles or hold hands when we walked. I never did, of course, ‘cause he made his opinions about queer people very clear.

“Outside of the whole asshole thing, he was actually pretty nice. Well, when he wanted to be, anyway,” he rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Steve glances at her and looks away, cheeks flushing a little.

“Then it was uh… Billy Hargrove.”

Now that… that threw her for a fucking loop.

“Hold up, Billy?!” She shrieks. “Like… the same Billy that broke a plate over your head? Who beat you unconscious and left you with a concussion?”

Steve nods, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. Robin groans, burying her face in his chest. Of course he’s going to have the worst possible taste in men.

“Okay, it was before he beat me unconscious, but still! I didn’t like Billy as a person, obviously, just appreciated his general… you know… sex appeal,” he clarifies. She groans again.

“Hey, he was hot!” He defends. He runs a hand over his face before continuing. “I didn’t want to date him or anything, but the fact that I was interested in him at all was terrifying at the time. I didn’t know what it meant, so I pushed it all to the back of my mind and locked it away.”

“Hence the box,” she confirms. He nods. There’s silence, and when Steve doesn’t continue, she prompts him.

“Then there’s Eddie.” He smiles and nods.

“Then there’s Eddie,” he repeats. His face lights back up just at the mere mention of him, and Robin can’t help but to smile as well.

“Tell me about him,” she asks, and immediately knows that’s the wrong move because if it’s one thing Steve picked up on during their friendship so far, it’s Robin’s tendency to ramble.

“Looking back on it, I think I had a crush on him in school, too. The way he would attract the attention of everyone in the room just by his presence alone was almost breathtaking, and I found myself looking over at his lunch table more times than I could count,” he admits. A blush has found its way to his cheeks, settling high on his cheekbones.

“The way he would spout nonsense about society and expectations made me realize that we were similar in that way, having a need to be different from everyone else, to get away from the normalcy of it all. I was unable to look away, to focus on anything else because he was always there and my mind was very, very weak.

“And it was fine in school, because I knew nothing would ever come from it ‘cause he made it clear he hated rich, popular jocks and… well, I fit into that category pretty well. There was no way he would ever like me, so after I graduated that infatuation kinda fizzled out.

“Then, the kids started talking about Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, and I knew that it had to be the same one because no other nerd would be willing to run a D&D club in Hawkins of all places,” he huffs a little laugh, more of a push of air through his nose, but the smile on his face is as gooey as freshly baked brownies.

“When I started picking the kids up, I’d see him across the parking lot and that infatuation came rushing back. The way he’d run out of the double doors with a flourish grand enough to rival a king yet immediately trip on the lip of the concrete was so endearing that it would never fail to make me laugh.

“Then I got to actually know him, and I think that’s when I knew,” Steve finishes, and Robin can’t hold back a grin. One thing that will never get old is hearing Steve talk about the people he cares about. Hear him talk about all the little things he notices, the little quirks and intricacies of those around him. It’s just… it’s nice to know that someone sees.

“So, what else do you like about him?” She asks, and the dopey grin that blooms on his face is enough to make her wonder if sometime during this conversation, he managed to get high without her noticing.

“He’s so sweet, Robbie! He gets all shy when you compliment him and does that thing where he hides behind his hair but it does absolutely nothing to hide his face,” he begins, hands gesturing as he talks. “Speaking of his hair, it looks so soft. I just wanna run my fingers through it and fluff it up.”

Steve groans, covering his face with his hands. It takes all of Robin's willpower not to outright cackle at how gone her best friend is. He rakes his hands down his face, stretching his skin as he fixes his eyes on the sheet ceiling above them.

“God, he’s so hot, Robs. Seriously, I think I’m going to spontaneously combust every time I see him. The whole rocker persona really does it for me.”

“I mean… it kinda sounds like you have a type.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” Steve grumbles, squinting his eyes at her.

“No, I’m serious! Hot, curly hair, deceptively smart with a firecracker attitude… I mean Nancy and Eddie are practically the same person,” she ventures.

“I guess you’re right. Billy was just a physical attraction, though. Dick didn’t have any real personality to appeal to,” he mutters the end of that sentence, but she snorts anyway. Then, his eyes blow wide. “Wait, is that considered speaking ill of the dead, or whatever?”

Robin shrugs. “He deserves it.”

“Yeah, he kinda does… still miss that ass, though—ow!”

Robin cuts him off by smacking his chest, hard. “Ew, gross! I totally did not need to visualize that oh my god.”

Steve snickers underneath her, giggles bubbling out his throat. She only rolls her eyes at him before smacking him again.

“You got off track again, dingus,” Robin reminds him and he sends a sheepish smile her way. “What else about Eddie?”

“He…” Steve pauses, and his lips quirk upwards. “He always looks so soft, underneath all the denim and leather. Like… he gets this look on his face sometimes, like he’s feeling all the love in the world, and I find myself wanting to be the reason that look is there. I wanna see him early in the morning when he hasn’t had his coffee yet and he’s all sleep rumpled and soft and domestic and I wanna wake up to him like that everyday, Robs.

“I wanna watch him grumble and talk to himself and fuss over breakfast. I wanna take the kids places with him and lean against his side while we watch the gremlins run around. I wanna look into his eyes in the morning sunlight and watch how they shine amber up close.

“I wanna trace his dimples with my finger, then his lips, and his jawline, and his neck, too. I wanna cuddle with him after a long shift at work and lean against him as he practices guitar and watch movies while holding hands in the dark and kiss him. Fuck, I wanna kiss him so bad. I wanna kiss him until our breath runs out and then some, ‘cause I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of him.”

Steve looks… Well, there's only one word for it. He looks like he’s in love. His eyes have gone soft, staring off as if he’s visualizing Eddie in front of him. His face is relaxed, a smile she now recognizes as his ‘Eddie smile’ grows.

It falls a little bit as the silence stretches, and he looks down at his hand laying idly on his chest. He starts fiddling with the fabric there, running his thumb along a fold.

“I tried to get closer to him after he got out of the hospital, and it worked for a little while. We would hang out here most of the time, watching movies or talking under the stars outside, but… I could tell he was holding me at arms length. Like he couldn’t accept that I was different. That I wanted to be there.”

He looks at her, smile turning a little sad.

“Then he stopped initiating hangouts and every time I offered, he would say no or claim he had something to do before rushing off. So I just took it as it was and stopped trying,” he sighs.

Robin thinks back to every interaction she’s seen between the two of them, how Eddie was always quick to leave and never lingered like he used to. How he almost seemed… nervous around Steve. Hesitant.

That fucking dumbass.

She starts to get up, only pausing her efforts to untangle their limbs.

“What—where are you going?” She huffs.

“To the trailer park,” she starts. Limbs finally free, she sits back on her knees and crosses her arms. “I’m going to knock some sense into that damn metalhead and probably kill him for hurting my best friend.”

Steve snorts and drags her back down on top of him.

“It’s okay, Robs, you don’t have to do anything. Promise me you won’t hurt him?”

“Ugh, fine. I promise or whatever,” she reluctantly agrees, and lays her head back down on his chest.

A beat of silence, then—

“Can I at least punch him a little?”

A pause.

“Okay, I’ll let you get away with that,” Steve amends. “But only light punching. I know you know how to throw a mean right hook and if I see Eddie with even a single bruise on his pretty face I think I’ll go into mourning.”

Robin giggles at his statement, and Steve just rolls his eyes at her before letting out a giggle of his own.

“I’m serious!” He tries to be stern, but the giddy smile on his face is a far cry from the nature of his words.

“I know, I know,” Robin says, holding back another wave of giggles. “Man, you’re really gone on him, aren’t you?”

Steve nods sadly.

“I want to tell him that I like him, Robs, but I can’t,” he confesses. “It’s.. it’s breaking me inside, to have all these feelings for someone and know you can never do anything about it.”

“Steve…”

“It’s terrifying just thinking about telling him because what if? What if he thinks I’m just fucking with him and shuts me out completely? What if he’s a homophobe or thinks that I just wanna use him as an experiment or something? Cause I don’t, not like that.”

“Steve,” she tries to interject, knowing that he’s working himself up. He ignores her.

“But as much as I hate holding all this… all this shit inside, it's still better than telling him. I don’t…I don’t think I could handle it if he rejected me,” he finishes. The ‘I don’t think I could survive it’ goes unsaid, but not unheard.

He finally looks at her, and she notes the sad acceptance in his eyes. His face threatens to crumble, as does hers, but they hold it together.

“Robbie, am I crazy for feeling like this?” He asks, voice a near whisper. “For falling for someone who hates me?”

She smiles sadly, placing a hand on his cheek and causing a tear to fall from his eye. She wipes it away with her thumb.

“You’re not crazy, Steve,” she reassures. “I know how it feels, how scary it is to like someone like that. It sucks, but it’ll only get better if you talk about it.”

He smiles a little. “I do feel a little better now, actually.”

“See? Talking helps, and I’m always here to listen,” she insists. She lays her head back down on his chest, not taking her hand away from his face, and slowly wipes away the stray tears that fall from his eyes. She vaguely registers that her thumb is acting as a mini windshield wiper for his face. The thought makes her smile.

Steve takes a deep breath, the movement causing her head to raise with it, and she knows there’s something else on his mind. She waits.

“Is…” he whispers, hesitating. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… I like boys, but I like girls too. That part hasn’t changed for me but… can I do that? Like, is that…” he trails off. “Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, Steve, that’s allowed. You can like whoever you want to, it doesn’t change who you are,” she reassures. Steve lets out a breath, like he was holding it in lieu of her answer.

“But… What am I then? I mean… I can’t be half gay and half straight, right?” He asks.

At that, Robin thinks back to a few zines she got on her and Steve’s first trip to Indy. She had been wanting to go ever since she came out to Steve on the grimy bathroom floor high on drugs, when he had accepted her with no questions asked. She had always heard things about Indianapolis, about how it was so much different than the little town of Hawkins. How there were so many more people, so many different types of people, and she just had to see it for herself.

A couple months after Starcourt, when school was just beginning to take off, Robin had asked if they could go on a day trip somewhere, just to get out before they were stuck there for the winter months and holidays. Steve had agreed, of course, and they piled in his fancy car and made short work of the two-hour trip to the city.

It was bigger than they expected, people milling about the streets and tall buildings surrounding them. Parking was a total bitch, but once they got their feet on the ground there was no stopping them. They bought shitty hot dogs off the street, popped into a bunch of little stores for the sole reason just to look, and even ventured into the fancy stores to make fun of their obscene prices.

“Robs! I want you to guess how much this shirt is.”

“Uh… like ten bucks?”

“Try seventy-five.”

“Holy shit! It’s so ugly!!”

“I know! God, rich people are weird.”

“Steve… you are rich.”

“Yeah, but I have taste. That’s different.”

“Keep telling yourself that, dingus.”

They were beginning their trek back to the car when a small, multi-colored flash caught her eye. A rainbow flag sticker was stuck to the store-front window of a small record shop, and Robin immediately grabbed Steve and pulled him in.

“Robs, what—“

“Shut up, and come with me. I might’ve found something.”

She didn’t wait for his response, only shoved open the shop door with a huff. The bell above her jingled, and a woman behind the counter nearby looked up from a magazine on the desk below her.

“Hi there, welcome to Rainbow Records!” The lady greeted them. “New releases are in this bin here,” she gestured to a bin full of records next to her, “and all other records are sorted by genre and alphabetically.”

Immediately, Robin was in love with her. She had long black hair that was shaved on the sides, the top of it pulled back into a sort of half-bun. Her ears were full of piercings, some dangling almost to her shoulders, that matched the flowy skirt she was wearing.

She felt Steve nudge her with his elbow, and that was when she realized she had been staring rather intently with her mouth hanging open like a newborn baby bird waiting for its mama to puke up worm goo for food. She snapped it closed with an audible click.

“Sorry, uh… Hi! Thank you for uh— that. I… um,” she floundered and pointed to herself. “Robin.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Robin. I’m Delia,” she responded, smiling before looking her up and down.

“We also have a room in the back you might be interested in. There’s an assortment of different media back there I think you’ll enjoy,” Delia said before she winked at her, and Robin knew she was in the right place.

“Well, Robs?” Steve spoke up behind her, quiet enough to not be overheard. She had almost forgotten he was there. “You wanna go look?”

It was more than a question, it was an out. It was his way of asking if she was ready, if she wanted him to be a part of this, too. If she wanted him to be a part of this stage in her life, this self-discovery.

She looked back at her best friend, whose face was so open and earnest that it made a huge smile bloom on her face.

“Hell yeah,” she said with a grin. “Let's do this, dingus!”

She grabbed his hand and walked up to the counter, and Delia pointed her head towards a small hallway on the other side of the room that Robin only just now noticed.

“It’s back there whenever you’re ready to look,” she informed. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. Both of you.”

“Thanks, Delia,” Robin responded, blushing enough to be seen from outer space, and looked up at Steve, whose face was a similar shade of red. She rolled her eyes and dragged Steve behind her into the room.

It was dimly lit, giving it a cozy atmosphere that made her feel completely at home. Posters and colorful flags lined the walls, with pictures of queer artists and figures as well as local drag queens and advertisements for different underground clubs filling in the gaps. There were different sections for movies, books, music, and magazines, all with different subcategories depending on which sexualities they included.

Robin’s eyes began to sting. She had spent years of her life feeling like the only person in the world, knowing that she would never find anyone like her in Hawkins and trying miserably to make peace with that. Then Steve came along and accepted her with open arms and zero complaints, and it made her feel a little less lonely.

But now, looking at a room filled from wall to wall with things by people like her? By people who knew what it was like to fall for people society says you shouldn’t fall for, by people who have defied what society said and expressed themselves anyway? It was enough to bring her to tears.

“Woah, hey, Robbie,” Steve began, moving in front of her to block her view. His hands came to rest on her cheeks, wiping away her tears as they fell. “What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

Robin shook her head, clenching her eyes closed.

“Happy tears,” she laughs wetly, hand coming up to wipe away a tear that snaked its way under her chin. “They’re happy tears, promise.”

Steve pulled her into a tight hug, hands wrapping solidly around her and she instantly felt better. She melted into him and hugged him back, and the two of them stayed there until she pulled away.

“Alright, help me find some hot women, okay?”

Steve laughed that big, loud laugh of his and Robin couldn’t help but to join him. They sorted through all of it; books, movies, and magazines alike. She went home that night with two books, a handful of magazines, and more knowledge than she ever imagined having about being queer.

It was time she put it to good use.

“Have you ever heard of the term ‘bisexual’?” She asks. He shakes his head. “It means liking both, Steve.”

He goes silent, so quiet she would have thought he stopped breathing too if she wasn’t still laying on his chest. His mouth silently forms the word, before a smile breaks out on his face.

“Bisexual. I think… I think that’s me,” he confirms.

“Now tell me properly this time,” she suggests. He smiles at her, and she can’t contain a smile of her own.

“I’m bisexual, Robbie,” he says, his words full of genuine confidence.

“Thank you for telling me, Steve.”

They smile at each other, both so wide she’s surprised their faces haven’t split in half yet. She scoots up to wrap him in a hug, laughing a little when his arms immediately squeeze her back.

Turns out her best friend, her platonic with a capital P soulmate, is more like her than she thought.

———

Permanent tag list: @tea-beloved @estrellami-1 @merricatty

Disposable Heroes tag list: @madcapromantic @hannahhook7744 @h3rmitsunited @willim-billiam-byerson @stuftzombie @acowardinmordor @zerokrox-blog @my-chemical-sexuality-crisis @grimmfitzz @ladygrimheart@bestwifehaver @blanketlicker @fishinforfiish@vi-an-te @orionchildofhades @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @whackyrach@stevie-crow @missmagillicuddy @1cookieburn1@mightbeasleep @jettestar @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @imyelenasexual @yikes-a-bee @that-agender-from-pluto @sufjuringstevens @sofadofax@lolawonsstuff@rajumat @ksierra674 @i-threw-my-name-out-the-window @justforthedead89 @gregre369 @vanillatwist @actually-races-erster @background-noise-headache @warlordless@largechaos @noctxrn-e @hope-can-be-your-sword @foundintheshallows @burningoffaroad @obliosworld @lemon-astra @midnightskeeper @venteraltus @lovelyscot @juleswashere3 @child-of-cthulhu @phantomcat94 @davekat-has-consumed-me @weirdandabsurd42 @dreamlandforever @madamonsieur-silvrene @pottenloved247 @froggistain @mycatsstolemybiscuit @greatsportsprofessorathelete @m-owo-n @pickledcarrots0 @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @niko-is-d3ad @quickenedheartbeat @crazyhatlady86 @says-swag-unironically @potato-of-the-lord @piebook67 @crisisinverted17

#steddie #stranger things #pre steddie #disposable heroes #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin friendship #stobin stans come get yalls juice #internalized homophobia #internalized biphobia #stranger things drabble #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #disposable heroes mcir

[crushing-on-nico-di-angelo]

I was born sick...

pearl, mitski // line without a hook, ricky montgomery // (she's) just a phase, puma blue // take me to church, hozier // unknown // bubble gum, clairo // alien blues, vundabar // waiting... P4R1S // she, dodie

#internalized homophobia #mitski #ricky montgomery #“GUYS GO LISTEN TO THE P4R1S SONG PLS PLS PLS” #puma blue #hozier #take me to church #bubble gum #clairo #yearning #mlm #wlw #vundabar #alien blues #waiting #new love #dodie #lesbian #sapphic

[blushweddinggowns]

For years, there wasn't a day that went by where Tommy Hagan didn't wish he'd never met Steve. They had known each other since pre-school. They weren't exactly fast friends, but Tommy noticed Steve right away. There was just...something about him that caught his attention. Maybe it was his laugh or maybe his smile, Tommy couldn't even remember. But he noticed him.

They're not best friends, but they're in the same small group. He tries to talk to him, he may even be just the slightest bit obsessed with him, but it's not easy to get close. There was something about Steve that was just... intimidating. Maybe it was because he was kind of an intense kid to begin with, or maybe it was because the sight of him makes Tommy's heart go into overdrive. But either way, he can never cross the threshold from friendly to close.

Not that it matters, because everything changes in second grade. It's stupid he even remembers that.

But when Eddie Munson came waltzing in that year, he might as well have never existed in Steve's eyes.

None of them did, despite the fact that the small group of four boys had been close for nearly four years before he came along. Because once Steve laid eyes on that little freak it was all over. They were inseparable and had been for years. It took about a week for Steve to forget his name, and Tommy didn't know what to do with how that made him feel.

Steve looked at him the same way that Tommy looked at Steve. And it made him sick.

But then five years later Eddie moved away, and suddenly Steve was all alone again. Tommy had moved on, of course he did. He had his own friends now, he didn't need Steve Harrington. But that didn't stop him from instantly trying to become his friend again. It works, it even works better than it did last time, now that they had sports to bond over.

But the feelings were worse than they were in grade school. Tommy learned quickly that he loved his smile, he adored the sweet way he laughed, and he would do or say about anything to see it. But despite the fact that they're closer, something wasn't right. They never get to where he was with Eddie, but he convinces himself it would just take time.

Time he didn't have, because Eddie comes back, less than two years later. It takes a few months for it to happen, but soon enough Steve is right back to where he was a few years ago, following his every beck and call, and Tommy is back to not existing. He can't help but lash out about it.

He corners him in the locker room one day, hissing, "When did you decide to go gay with Munson?"

Steve shrugged, utterly nonchalant at being accused of the biggest social sin, “Who told you that?”

“Why else would you abandon us at the drop of a hat?” Tommy couldn't hide the hurt in his voice that time, and he hated how it cracked at the very end.

Not that it mattered. Steve didn't care. He barely even looked at him as he left, calling out over his shoulder,  “Believe whatever helps you sleep at night man.”

And just like that, Tommy was nothing again. Not that he cared. He moves on. He gets a girlfriend, new friends, and he doesn't let whatever weird feelings he has for Harrington affect him. Even if he's the one who starts off the rumor that their gay for each other. He only does it because it's true. Nothing more nothing less, and he's like his dad.

He's not a fan of queers. Not in his town. He just had to keep telling himself that. There's more than one time where he's close to proving that he's right.

There's one in particular, where he just knows he had been close. One day, right before practice he had seen Eddie damn near skipping away from the back of the school to the parking lot. He went back to investigate, only to find Steve smiling to himself behind the school, breathing all heavy in a way that just made Tommy's blood boil. There was even dirt on his knees for god's sake.

It infuriated him. But that was the closest he ever got to proving anything, and it hadn't amounted to jack shit. It takes years for it to actually really happen. And by then they're already out of high school. It's a weird night all around. It starts with Carol dumping him, at Lover's Lake of all places, not that it's surprising. He was a few days out from leaving for college, and the two of them had never discussed a future together. He doesn't even stop her when she decides that he should walk home, despite home being nearly five miles away.

He doesn't mind though, not really. The walk would give him time to think anyway. That's what he tries to do anyway, but all of his thoughts come to a screeching halt when he hears it, that beautiful, horrible sound.

The sound of Steve laughing. He doesn't know why he follows it, but he does. He follows it until he sees them, the Munson van parked in the middle of nowhere, the back door splayed open. He has a clear view of them from his spot on the sidelines, carefully covered by shadows.

They were cuddled up together, Steve heavily leaning into Eddie's side as they talked, "Y'know, it's kinda nice to get this for another year."

Eddie snorted at that, "There are stars in the city babe. But thank you for trying to make my failure have an upside."

Tommy watches, wide-eyed as Steve kisses him quiet, quickly muttering against his mouth, "You're not a failure. You're just academically challenged."

He does it so easily. Like he'd done it a million times before, and he probably had. Eddie just sighed, "Yeah, yeah. Potato, potatoe."

Steve kissed him again, and his second try was more effective at shutting him up. He ignored the comment, opting to lean back into his chest and point up at the stars, "Tell me about that one."

Eddie starts prattling off about whatever constellation Steve had pointed out, not that Tommy cared. He was still reeling from what he'd seen. Here it finally was, the proof he's always wanted. And the funny thing was, who gave a shit? He was leaving in a matter of days. High school was over, and unless he wanted to personally call up everyone in his yearbook to share the news, no one was going to give a shit.

It was over. And maybe that's why he can finally admit it to himself. He never cared that they were queer. He cared that it wasn't him. That no matter how much Tommy had tried to be close to Steve it didn't matter. He didn't choose him. He'd never choose him. All he wanted was to be in Eddie Munson's place, and he was never going to get it.

The realization isnt as shocking as he had expected it to be. Maybe because he had seen it coming. But it still makes him pissed. He hated Steve for that. Or at least he wanted to even if his stupid heart wouldn't let him.

But you know who he could hate? Eddie Munson. Because if he had never come back then maybe Tommy would be where he was right now. It would have taken more time sure, but at least he would have had a chance.

He'd always hate him for that. But one thing was for sure. Tommy was never going to let this happen to him again.

He leaves for college and tries his damndest to forget. He convinces himself that Steve was a fluke, an exception to the rule. Tommy was normal, he would be fine. With or without him.

He meets a nice girl, gets decent grades, and goes right into sales. They get married in 1990, their first kid in 1992, and Tommy has almost convinced himself that he's happy.

He doesn't see Steve again for years. Not until 1996. He's in Indianapolis for a conference, fresh off the plane. He stops off at a coffee shop, realizing too late what kind of atmosphere he'd walked into. The rainbow flags, the piercings, he'd somehow managed to walk into what was probably the only queer coffee shop in the city. Any other time he'd walked out by now. But he's tired, he's jetlagged, and there's no one here he knows to preform for. He just wants some caffeine.

He's waiting for his order when it happens. He's looking around the space, mindless and bored when he spots a couple curled up together in a booth, doing the Sunday crossword puzzle. It takes a minute for him to realize just why his eyes stop on them, but then one of them laughs. And it's that same god-forsaken laugh of his childhood, the same one that still sent shivers up his spine.

He almost can't believe what he sees. But it's them, Eddie and Steve, laughing it up while they scribbled into their newspaper. Steve turned his head to kiss Eddie's jaw once before going back to what was in front of him, playfully arguing over something he'd said. Tommy didn't know how long he had been staring for, but it was long enough to get caught. Eventually, Eddie looks up and catches his eye, his own widening at the sight of him. But besides that, he doesn't do anything. Tommy knows he recognizes him, but he doesn't nudge Steve. He just looks away and kisses the side of his head, his focus already back on the newspaper in front of them.

Tommy couldn't help but think that they looked...happy. A lot happier than how he felt. It made him feel ill all over again.

He leaves the coffee shop without his order, despite the fact that he had already paid. He opts to sleep his exhaustion off at the hotel, failing to get the thoughts of them snuggled up together out of his head.

He thought he would be over it by now. He was a happily married man. Two kids, a decent job. He was past this high school bullshit. But that same feeling was welling up in his chest again. That horrible jealousy, and a reminder that yes, he still hated Eddie Munson.

Because now he has to acknowledge it, a fact about his life that he had been avoiding for years. He's not happy. Not like that.

He doesn't see either of them for a long time after that. He's 49. Divorced. A good relationship with his daughter, and a strained one with his son. He's back in Indiana to take care of his mom, now that his dad was dead, though he at least got her to agree to move out of the pit known as Hawkins. They settle in a three-bedroom in Indianapolis, and it works, surprisingly. He had been so worried about introducing his mom to David, let alone them living together, but she adores him immediately. It took a few years for her to come around, but when she did it was complete.

Tommy loved her for it. And for the first time in a long time, he's happy.

It's a pretty snap decision to get tattoos of each other's names. But he did promise David he could have whatever he wanted for his birthday. It's silly and corny and something for people who were twenty years younger than him. But fuck it. You only lived once, right?

They pick a random shop walking him together one day, both of them laughing with each other as they picked out a book design. By the time they're up next, Tommy is in high spirits, which is maybe why he's so unprepared for who comes waltzing up to them.

It's fucking Eddie Munson. He introduces himself as their artist, eyes narrowing at Tommy. It takes him a second to place him, but Tommy recognizes him straight away. Despite being 50, the guy looks startlingly similar. The same long hair, now with streaks of gray. The same cocky smile, the same confident walk. There are some crow's feet and laugh lines on his face now, and maybe he moves a little slower, but it's Eddie Munson through and through.

With a brand new ring on his left hand.

Eddie doesn't come to the full realization until he has David set up in his chair, and he's literally sketching out Tommy's name onto the back of his neck.

He mumbles to himself, "Well who would have fucking thought?"

"What was that?" David asked, completely unaware of the history between the two men. Of course he was, Tommy wasn't exactly bursting at the seams to tell his long-term boyfriend about what a massive homophobe he used to be.

"Think I might know your boyfriend from high school is all," Eddie answers for him, eyes on Tommy while he disinfects the skin, "Though he was closer to my husband than he was to me."

It shouldn't have been surprising, but the question still escapes from Tommy's mouth regardless, "You guys still together?"

Eddie gives him a long look as he answers, "Since we were 16. But you knew that, didn't you?"

David grins at that. Of course, he does, completely lost to the tension pulsing between them. He's a hopeless romantic to the letter, "You've been with your husband since high school? That's so sweet!"

Eddie breaks eye contact, face relaxing, "Thirty-one years. We're one of those. But enough about me, how about we get started?"

Eddie makes small talk as he works, which just makes Tommy tense up even more, waiting for the inevitable shoe to drop, "How long have you two been together?"

"Four years," David says proudly, "Living together for two."

"Well isn't that sweet," Eddie mumbles as he changes the ink color, taking a quick chance to raise a brow at Tommy, "Who would have thought that Hagan would settle down."

"So what was Tommy like in high school?" David asked, clearly excited to meet someone from the past that he refused to talk about, "Were you guys, friends?"

"Not exactly," Eddie says, casual. Like Tommy isn't on the edge of his seat waiting for him to just say what he wants to say, "Like I said, he was closer to my husband. But they fell out of touch. Life after high school and all. Though I know he was a hell of a basketball player."

He leaves it at that, plain and simple, like his kindness for keeping his mouth shut wasn't leaving Tommy reeling. They finish their appointment in relative silence, though it ended up being less awkward than Tommy could have prayed for.

He doesn't say anything until David goes to the bathroom and he's left to pay, raising a brow at Eddie, "You didn't have to do that you know."

He snorted, "Is that your version of a thank you?"

"I am thankful but-"

Eddie interrupts him, "Look man, I just figured that over the past thirty years, you managed to change. None of my business to try and mess up what you have now." He says it with a tone of finality. Not necessarily forgiveness, but it's definite.

It doesn't stop the apology from coming out of his mouth though, "I appreciate that. I do, and for the record, I am sorry. About everything. I know it doesn't really mean shit but I am."

Eddie's face remains impassive as he hands him back his card, "Okay."

"And uh, could you tell Steve that for me too?"

That made him crack a smile, "Oh don't worry, he's gonna hear all about it. I'll let him know."

David was walking back to him by then, bright and happy while he saddled up to his side. Tommy waved as they left, hands interwoven when they went to walk home. He felt a lot of things in that moment.

Ashamed of the past, embarrassed for his behavior, and grateful that Eddie kept his mouth shut about what an asshole he had been. But there was something missing. That familiar feeling of jealousy and loathing was gone completely. He tightened his hold on David's hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss his fingers, just to hear him laugh.

One thing was for sure, he didn't hate Eddie Munson anymore, not one bit.

~

a cut interlude for this fic that i thought i'd post here. It ended up closing too many doors of where the story should go, but I think it's still interesting.

#internalized homophobia #tommy hagan #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #wooooo sadness #angst #steddie childhood friends au #the universe trapped in your skin #tommy pov #it works out though #steddie fic #secret relationship steddie

[inklessletter]

Steve should have known better.

He felt exhibited, exposed. Seen. He hasn't felt that way since he was nineteen. Now he was almost thirty, just in a few weeks, standing in the kitchen, preparing his toddler's meal, and everything should feel normal, definitely not like if the world took an upside down turn on him as soon as he recognized Eddie's voice coming from the TV in the living room. Alone there, forgotten. Like white noise.

They have not been in touch for more than teen years.

He almost didn't pay attention to it. Almost.

Eddie didn't sound like Eddie, that was not his scene, that was not his music, nor his usual angry lyrics. He definitely was not smooth, sad piano, not a raspy, sentimental voice.

It was strange and unfamiliar that man in the screen wielding his voice. That was not him.

Yet it took Steve three seconds to stop dead and go to the living room and stare, cooking forgotten.

Black and white, great illumination, sad expression, and Steve's life in Eddie's lips.

That Eddie, that unknown person sang what Steve told him that many years ago, hidden under a starry night, no Moon there to lit the unshed tears, or the blush in his cheeks. Eddie was singing his secrets.

Like a confession, Eddie sang about his fear of becoming unloved and forgotten, about how his father told him he would be nothing but lonely if he didn't get a wife and kids when Steve was barely eleven. Eddie sang, like it was his own experience, about him becoming his own authority, about how that lingering fear of meaning nothing, be nothing but a sad waste of space because he was definitely unlovable. Eddie sang about Steve's desire of having kids and make himself the greatest dad in the world so he could find that love when he was nothing but wrinkles and memories.

Eddie didn't sing about that love letter that he wrote to Steve, telling him that he was already loved and cherished, and that he would do anything in his hand to make Steve feel unbearably loved every day.

Eddie didn't sing about Steve shaking, reading over and over again that later, terrified of yet losing someone he loved so much because he was flying too close to the sun. Again.

Eddie didn't sing about Steve rejecting him the day before he set off Hawkins to become a famous musician. He didn't sing about Steve's trembling smile, about broken hearts that day. He didn't sing about their mouths becoming that day a graveyard of kisses. He didn't sing about the tight hug, Steve's plea in his hear "please, forget about me and be huge" and Eddie's choking reply "that's not an option, because I will always love you."

He didn't sing about those ten years of silence between them.

Instead, Eddie sang about his wish of becoming loved by the children he hadn't had yet, wondering if they will still love him when he was old or if they would let him behind. Eddie sang about a letter that changed a man and made him happy once.

What Eddie didn't put it in the lyrics, but all Steve could hear, standing there, sobbing, barely able to breath, aching and broken, was that Eddie kept his promise.

He still loved him.

#inklessletter #inky writes #steddie #fic #fanfic #ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt #sad #i am so sorry for this #so so sorry #internalized homophobia

[half-oz-eddie]

Attached, like that ❤️‍🩹 internalized homophobia tw

"...I think I'm getting too attached to you." Billy said randomly, eating the soft pretzel Steve brought him on their lunch breaks.

"What? Whaddya mean?" Steve wondered, passing the shared drink between them.

"We spend a lot of time together lately. Now, whenever I don't see you, I'm..." He fought to hold back, or tried to, but if he couldn't talk to Steve, he felt like he couldn't talk to anyone. "I get pissed when I don't get to see you. Not pissed at you, just—pisses me off. I dunno."

"I think that's normal." Steve reassured.

"I don't think it is."

"It is." Steve confirmed again. "I get pretty bummed when we can't hang out too. Only difference is...everything pisses you off. So you show anger for all your emotions."

Billy tusked, narrowing his eyes at Steve. "Fuck you."

"Lighten up." Steve playfully nudged. "I'm not givin' you shit about it. Just saying."

"Okay so, what, it's normal to be upset when we don't see each other?"

"I think so." Steve nodded. "We're friends."

"Do you get upset when you can't see Robin? Or those dweebs?"

"Hm...Now that I think about it..." He shook his head, a chuckle escaping him. "No. It doesn't bother me at all."

"So then we're too attached to each other." Billy deduced. "You know this is pussy shit, right? To be attached to another guy?"

"So what if it is?" Steve shrugged. "You mean a lot to me, Billy. We've been getting along so much better than I could've imagined."

"I can't be...that way." Billy stared off, a tense, pained look on his face. "I can't...feel these things for you. It's not natural."

"If it wasn't natural, why do we feel like this?"

"I don't have all the fuckin answers, Harrington." Billy snapped. "It...feels like I did something wrong. I did something to make me like this."

Steve turned to Billy, hoping for clarity. "Billy...do you like me?"

Billy growled as he sprang up from the spot he sat with Steve, turning his back to him. "Yeah. I fuckin like you, alright? I couldn't help it. Couldn't control my feelings. Gonna fuck off and never talk to me again, now?"

"No. I think...I like you too. I didn't think I was...that way either. But I feel the same way I felt about Nancy about you. I didn't choose this. It just happened."

Billy turned his attention back to Steve. "We gotta make it stop, Harrington. We gotta make this shit go away so we can still hang out without...becoming..." He let out a defeated sigh. "Neil would kill me."

Steve stood, slowly grabbing Billy's hand.

Billy's heart skipped a beat when their fingers touched. He pulled away and turned his back to Steve once more. "We can't do this."

"Do you wanna do this?"

Billy shrugged.

Steve stared at Billy's tense back and scrunched up shoulders, overhearing a soft sniffle.

He peeked over at Billy's face, spotting the tears when Billy pointedly turned away.

Steve placed comforting hands on Billy's shoulders prompting him to loosen up. "Look at me. C'mon." He coaxed. "We stayed up all night on prom night, talking shit and drinking. We've seriously bonded, man. You know you can tell me anything."

"I wish I didn't tell you this." Billy admitted. "Now I feel like I lost my friend."

Steve slowly spun Billy around. "No matter what happens, you're always gonna be my friend, alright? We can pretend this conversation didn't happen if you want to."

"Don't you want to?" Billy questioned. "You don't wanna be...this either, right?"

"I don't really mind. I've already come to terms with this awhile ago. But if it's too hard for you, I don't mind that either. As long as we can still hang out."

Billy intertwined his pinky with Steve's. "I can't just be your friend. The feelings aren't gonna disappear. They're too strong."

Steve gently grasped Billy's chin. Billy's heart began to race with excitement and fear. He worriedly glanced around, and Steve turned his head back towards him. "We're alone. No one's ever disturbed us in the 2 months we've been hanging out in this shed."

Billy sighed. "I fuckin' know that, but it doesn't mean I'm not scared."

"Let's take this one step at a time, then. How about a kiss—"

"No." Billy immediately refused. "If I kiss you, I'm never gonna be able to stop thinking about you. Then I'll really be in deep."

Steve laughed. "I never took you for a worrier, Billy."

"Yeah, well, I never took me for a lot of things...but here we are."

"Listen, Billy. It's our life. We can do whatever we want, and we don't have to tell anyone anything about how we feel or...what we are. We can just...be two pals in public, and we can be who we really are in the privacy of my house."

Billy liked the idea of being able to be his true self with Steve. He needed to shed away some of the expectations from his father and sort his shit out a bit, but he knew one thing for certain: He wanted Steve.

"So you like me, huh? You really like me?"

Steve nodded with certainty. "Yeah. I really do."

"So you like...wanna fuck me and stuff?" Billy asked teasingly, sticking his tongue out at Steve.

Steve turned red at the thought. "I—" He laughed. "Maybe—how about...a kiss first?"

Billy finally agreed, his lips slowly meeting Steve's. They were soft and welcoming, and tasted like pepsi and bananas. Weird combination, sure, but it was Steve's lips he kissed, and that was the best part of all.

"I uh...I have to get back to work." Steve spoke softly, their lips still ghosting one another's.

"Me too. But I'll see you later, right?"

Steve nodded. "I can't wait."

Billy stole one more kiss and watched as Steve hurried out of the shed.

They hadn't discussed the nature of their relationship just yet, but Billy wanted to take one step at a time. Each step with Steve was another step toward Billy becoming his own person.

He realized...it was okay to be...like that with Steve. It was better than being like Neil.

Billy went back to his lifeguard chair, smiling to himself, thinking about the next time he'd kiss Steve's lips.

#internalized homophobia #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ivy.doc #harringrovelovefest2024

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

I want to write a meta on Stede Bonnet of Our Flag Means Death and internalized homophobia. A lot of this is going to be a rehash of something I said to an anon back in october of 2022 but I feel like it deserves to be put out without rancid anon takes attached.

Our Flag Means Death as a show is trying to do a deconstruction of toxic masculinity. I feel very comfortable in saying that seeing as David Jenkins had "A lot of what we're taught about what it means to be a man is wrong" and a show about gay men with a thesis like that is necessarily also deconstructing homophobia, even if it doesn't center homophobia, which ofmd does not, it keeps it in just out of frame at all times, because it prefers to center queer joy. However that doesn't mean it's not there and I want to talk about the one place where it exists that I feel like people don't really touch on.

Stede is a character that comes from a background of wealth, of rigid adherence to social norms that he was never able to fully fit into. There are rules for what men do and what women do and those rules must be obeyed and Stede learns this the hard way, by getting tied in a boat and having things thrown at him for picking flowers. By being bullied relentlessly for being soft and weak. Under such conditions you can’t not internalize those rules.

Stede also is very insecure, in episode 2 it's established that he struggles with feelings of inadequacy. A lot of Stede’s guilt comes from his inability to preform the roles of husband and father, roles which were thrust upon him without his consent and stand in opposition to his identity as a gay man, at least in the 1700s. Stede considers himself a coward for his inability to preform these rolls. Stede is unable to forgive himself for being unable to fit into the heterosexual expectations that society as placed on him.

Blackbeard is also a hypermasculine figure. A role that Ed finds himself unable to fit into. That’s why Ed and Stede seem to be in the same place when they first meet. They’re both trying to break out of these rigid boxes that have been forced upon them. Blackbeard is less heterosexual, more specific, but it’s still a distinctly male expectation which is tied up in cultural ideals about masculinity, especially non-white masculinity. And the whole show Izzy, a gender conforming character who seems to go out of his way to talk down to any man he perceives as even a little bit soft, is trying to force Ed into it, and when he tries to imply that Ed isn’t Blackbeard enough he does it by emasculating him

Ed is open, at least when he's made to feel like he's in a safe environment, about not wanting to be blackbeard anymore. Stede suggests retirement and provides him space to experiment with reinventing himself, but at the end of the day Stede doesn't believe him because Stede venerates Blackbeard as one of the most fearsome pirates of all time (something I expect to be a large point of contention between them in the next season). When Ed finally shakes off his captaincy and tries to leave Blackbeard behind for good Stede ends up blaming himself for it, because he perceives Ed's desire to leave a role that is hurting him behind as him being ruined, the same way Stede perceives his own failure as a husband and father as an inherently corrosive thing.

Unpacking Chauncey's speech in season 1 episode 10 and why Stede agrees with it is fundamental here. Gay people have been for centuries been portrayed as corrupting influences trying to convert people to our lifestyle. We've been portrayed as horror villains. Our sex is portrayed as defilement. We're accused of being groomers who want to corrupt others to our way of life, we're accused of recruiting. This is one of the more classic homophobic tropes. So when Chauncy says you're a monster who defiles beautiful things there is venom and oppression behind it. And Stede agrees to it because he does believe himself to have corrupted Ed away from being Blackbeard into being kind of a pansy like Stede. And that he defiled his family by leaving despite it being what he needed to do.

And so his reaction to this is to shove himself back into the closet and try to be Mary's husband again.

I'm not passing moral judgement on Stede, it's just difficult to interpret the show without seeing the subtextual journey of overcoming internalized homophobia that Stede goes on.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd meta #stede bonnet #internalized homophobia