#jonathan byers hurt/comfort | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kennahjune · 4 months

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Trauma bond? No. Bro bond.

Was having Steve and Lucas bro bond thoughts that accidentally turned into Steve whump.

…

Steve and Lucas bonding over sports more than anyone realized they ever would.

Like yeah, everyone knew Steve played basketball and was on the swim team in high school; that was practically his entire personality for a bit. But they never realized how much he actually /liked/ the sports.

Until he was geeking out with Lucas over a new play they’d thought of.

It was odd for them all to see Steve so excited. They watched on from their seats on the front porch steps. Eddie and Jonathan each had a beer, the both of them sharing a blunt with Argyle. Nancy and Robin sat on the steps below them, watching on while Steve and Lucas payed them no mind from the driveway.

It was almost comical— how the moment Lucas showed up on his bike Steve was up in an instant. After confirming it was indeed not a code red, Steve was quick to join Lucas. Especially after being told it was basketball related.

Steve had kicked his own beer over in his haste to get up.

Now Steve and Lucas were in the driveway, the garage door down (to prevent damage to the cars) and the Harrington’s basketball hoop out. Both were blissfully unaware of the eyes following them. Well, the eyes following /Steve/, it was more like.

Circling back the earlier thought; they’d never seen him to engaging in something. So excited. So…happy.

Which was really sad to think about.

“I’ve never seen him so excited over something,” Nancy said, speaking everyone’s thoughts.

Well. Except Argyle’s, it seems. “Nah, man. He gets like this anytime he starts talking about sports. We were watching a soccer game on TV last night and he was like— totally freaking out! Waving his hands around and talking a mile a minute.”

He took a puff of the blunt and passed it to Eddie, unaware of how he just tilted everyone’s worlds.

“Wait—“ Eddie took a drag and his voice was strained while he kept in the smoke “—he actually talks to you about that shit?”

Argyle hummed and looked at Eddie oddly. Eddie blew the smoke out and held Argyle’s eye.

“Yeah dude. All the time. Might help that I played volleyball back in Cali but— really, I just like hearing him talk. And I think he likes talking. He talks a lot.”

Argyle was getting extra talkative now, his sentences becoming shorter and more frequent. That’s how you knew he was high enough to not care.

“He’s never really been that talkative,” mumbled Robin, a sudden kind of dread settling uncomfortably in her chest.

Argyle shrugged. “Maybe you don’t talk about what he likes to talk about. He likes talking about sports. And romance books. He reads a lot of romance books.”

Well isn’t that something, Eddie thought. Steve Harrington likes to read.

(It brought up a distant memory from high school, from Steve’s sophomore year and Eddie’s junior year. Back before “King Steve” meant “jackass”.

“Well well, looky here, fellas! King Steve is gracing us peasants with his presence.” Eddie called mockingly to the young man sitting at the table in the library.

Steve— only 15 at the time, not 16 for another couple of months— looked up from his book with furrowed brows and a pout on his pretty pink lips. A pout that 21 year old Eddie would come to love.

Steve hadn’t done to much in the interaction. He more or less sat in silence while Eddie went on and on about something he couldn’t remember now.

When Steve had gotten up from the table, he doggy-eared his page (like a monster) and tucked the book under his arm. Eddie saw the title only briefly, “Forever Amber”.)

“Do we really never talk about his interests?” asked Jonathan to the sky, his head tilted up while he blew the smoke away.

They all startled when a series of shouts and laughs came from Lucas and Steve in the driveway. Eddie looked over in time to watch Steve pull Lucas in for a hug where they both patted each others backs aggressively. Eddie’s seen the guys do that at games. Some kind of weird bro-hug.

Eddie continued to watch when Steve bent down to pick up the rolling basketball. Eddie’s mind went other places quick enough when Steve pulled his shorts up a little higher. Robin smacked his calf.

“Seriously, you guys never talk to him about sports?” Argyle asked, flabbergasted. And I suppose he had every right to be. These were some of Steve’s closest friends. His boyfriend and his best friend! And they never got to listen to Steve rant about a particular basketball game from high school? About some specific swimming stroke and how it helped him win swim competitions?

They were seriously missing out.

Robin hung her head in shame and thought about it, her eyes misting over the more she realized that— yeah, she never talked to Steve about sports. Let alone his other interests. (Did he have other interests? That fact that she had to ask this question made her want to cry and hug Steve.)

Robin picked her head up and propped it in her hands. She looked on with everyone else as Steve and Lucas cheered about something or other.

Steve tossed Lucas the ball in the driveway. He bent himself at the knees and placed his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily.

“Alright, Sinclair. Hit me.” he smirked.

He and Lucas had been tossing the ball back and forth for close to an hour now, both excited to get this play right. Lucas dribbled the ball three times on the ground quickly before he set into motion.

Steve cut him off to the left, but Lucas swerved to the right so fast he nearly toppled himself over. Steve turned and jumped in front of him just in time to body slam him slightly. Not nearly as rough as he could’ve been, holding back because they were outside on concrete and Steve wasn’t going to be responsible for a concussion.

The ball rolled away into the grass, unnoticed while Steve gave Lucas a hand and pulled him up.

Lucas was taking heaving breaths, and for a scary moment Steve was worried he’d slammed him too hard and knocked his lungs around. It’s possible. That’s why Steve himself had an inhaler in the drawer closest to his bed.

But then Lucas was laughing, and soon Steve was to.

“Dude! How’d you do that? I’ve never seen anyone move like that man!” Lucas praised over his heavy breathing. Steve chuckled and took his own deep breaths.

He clapped Lucas on the shoulder, grabbed the ball, and steered him towards the porch. “Plant your feet next time.” He felt a ping of anger and sadness at the words, but tramped it down.

It was only when he’d reached the porch with Lucas that Steve realized they were alone outside. Had everyone gone inside? Did sports seriously bore them so much that they just up and left? The thought made something bitter churn in Steve’s gut.

Whatever.

He led Lucas through the door and dropped the basketball on the porch by the door. It was muddy and his floors were going to remain white for as long as possible thank you very much.

They both left their shoes by the door and traveled to the kitchen, Lucas talking about how fast he’d ducked and wanting to know what Steve meant by planting his feet. Steve agreed to another playing session the next day with a grin. It was nice to have someone who enjoyed what he did.

He tossed Lucas a bottle of water from the fridge and made sure the kid drank it all. They sat with each other at the counter for a minute, Steve idly sipping his water and listening to Lucas’ still heavy breaths.

“Damn, I still can’t catch my breath man.” Lucas laughed lightly.

Steve smiled and set his water down.

“Wait here, don’t do anything stupid.”

Lucas gave him a two finger salute as he walked off upstairs. Steve was sure to avoid the living room and was quick to grab the aforementioned inhaler from his drawer. He jogged back into the kitchen and sat next to Lucas one more.

“Ok, so I’m assuming you know what an inhaler is.”

Lucas nodded, staring at the inhaler in Steve’s hand oddly.

“I don’t have asthma,” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

Steve chuckled. “And neither do I. But there are times where you get knocked around too much or too hard, and it can rattle your lungs. I found that out the hard way when I was 14 and had my first asthma attack. My lungs had rattled so much they got trapped between my ribs and my mom had to take me to the hospital.”

Lucas winced. “Seriously? How the hell did you manage that?”

My dad got a little too rough, Steve thought. But decided against saying that, obviously. He smiled and shook his head. “Not important.”

Steve uncapped the inhaler and gave it a good shake. “Ok, I’m assuming you know at least a little about using one of these but one things for sure, you’ve gotta fix your posture.”

Lucas immediately straightened his back.

Steve went on explaining about how curling into yourself like that basically compressed your lungs and made breathing harder.

He held the inhaler to Lucas’ mouth and instructed him to breathe in and hold it for as long as he felt he could before releasing slowly.

Lucas did as instructed, and after no more than two puffs Steve instructed him to simply keep his back straight and take deep breaths through his nose and to release slowly through his mouth.

Lucas left on his bike a few minutes later with a few snacks and an extra bottle of water in his bag. Steve told him to talk to his parents about getting him a medical inhaler if he planned to stick out basketball for all of high school. Steve knew how aggressive those kids could be, and while it wasn’t always necessary it was helpful.

When he closed the door behind Lucas he went straight to the living room.

Where apparently everyone had relocated.

“Uh.. hey?” Steve waved pathetically. He had really no idea what to do with the 5 pairs of eyes on him.

“Ok? Um— seriously why are you all looking at me like that? It’s fucking freaky.” Steve curled in on himself a little, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders.

Robin was the first to shoot out of her seat on the couch. Steve was given no warning before he was engulfed in a hug.

“Oh? Ok—“ He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “What happened, Robs? You alright?” he asked from where his face was tucked into her neck.

She nodded, but it was obvious something was wrong.

When Robin let go she dragged Steve by the wrist to the couch and sat with him. He looked at everyone else settled in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t like— an intervention or something, right?” he tried to joke. Argyle seemed to find it funny at least. Steve smiled at him where he sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Then there was an arm wrapping around his waist from the side Robin wasn’t pressed against and Steve wasted no time leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What’s up with you guys, huh? You’re quiet and it’s scary. I don’t like it.” Steve muttered the last part under his breath and more to himself. But Eddie squeezed his hip reassuringly.

“Nothing’s up, baby. How was everything with Lucas?” Eddie asked. Steve barely gave himself time to pause before he answered, “Good. He’s been moving a lot faster lately.”

He bit his tongue against the slew of words he wanted to spill about everything they’d done in that hour they’d been outside. Instead he said,

“Sorry. Totally ditched you guys for the ball.” He chuckled, trying to take the weight of the words off some. Eddie tutted.

“Don’t apologize, Steve. You looked like you having fun.” Came Nancy’s unexpected reply. Steve’s head shot up to look at her before traveling back to Argyle, who gave him a vague “go on” gesture with his hand.

“Uh..” He pulled his eyes back to Nancy. “Yeah, had a lot of fun. Um— you guys alright?”

Jonathan groaned and Steve watched Nancy hit him on the arm. They had a whole argument with their eyes before Nancy deflated. What the hell?

“Steve.” Jonathan started. Steve flinched slightly and didn’t relax when Eddie squeezed his hip.

He braced himself for the laughs, the jeers. Them telling him they didn’t care that he had fun and that they had to go.

“We’re sorry.”

Steve blinked. You’d think an apology that sounded so heartfelt would lower his inner walls a bit, but it only served to raise them higher. Because—

“What the fuck? Why?”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head and let Nancy take the lead this time.

“For brushing you off.”

Steve blinked, his inner walls no longer rising but not lowering either.

“For not showing that we cared whenever you started talking about your sports and things.” Was Robin’s add-on from beside him.

Steve flinched and made to get up but remembered he was kind of held down by both Robin and Eddie.

“So this is an intervention? Guys it’s fine, seriously—“

“No. It’s not. Stop talking for a second and let us be sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie’s grip tightened again and Steve tried to find comfort in it like he normally did, but he was so uncomfortable right now it was unbelievable.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been apologized to. Not like this. Not with such sincerity.

It scared him, honestly.

“We’re sorry we didn’t bother trying to show interest in anything you did even though you always made sure to show interest in ours,” was how Eddie finished.

“Even with all the teasing you add in.” Chuckled Jonathan.

Steve found a bit of the comfort he was searching for.

He cleared his throat. “Um ok— so—“

“Not done.” Demanded Nancy.

Steve shut up.

“We’re sorry that we made fun of your interests and maybe made you feel like you couldn’t share your thoughts and feelings with us in fear of getting ridiculed.”

And good God if that wasn’t right on the money.

Steve swallowed against the tears that threatened to mist over his vision.

He laughed quietly instead. And maybe he looked like he was going insane but Jesus Christ— he couldn’t take this right now. He was not expecting a fucking apology after an hour of playing basketball.

What the fuck has his life turned into?

“Ok— done now?” he asked. And when nobody spoke up against him he continued.

“So um— thanks? For the apology? I guess— I guess I just don’t understand. Why are you guys apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong?”

That got him a chorus of groans that made him curl into himself more. He hung his head and pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer, a nervous habit he’d developed in middle school.

“Steve.” Robin gently said. “We have every reason to apologize and fucking grovel.”

Steve wasn’t given a single moment to protest.

“Sweetheart, what did you do yesterday when I was talking about my campaign?”

Steve looked at Eddie funny. “Dude I don’t know— I think you started talking about it while I was cooking?”

Eddie nodded. “And then you told me to hold on while you put the lasagna in the oven so you could give me your full attention.”

Steve blinked dumbly, not quite getting it.

“That’s the bare minimum, Ed. You were talking about something you really liked so I made sure you knew I was listening.”

And oh wow. It just dawned on him.

“Exactly, honey. None of us— except Argyle, apparently— have been giving you the attention you deserve even though you give us yours no matter what.”

“Steve you listened to me drone about types of cameras and film last week for three hours and didn’t complain once. I know for a fact that shit was boring to listen to because I’ve been told so by both Will and El numerous times.”

Steve stared at Jonathan.

“Ok, sure. But I don’t see— I don’t get— I don’t care that you guys don’t listen to me. Sports are complicated and yeah sure it kind of hurts when you scoff as if it doesn’t mean shit—“

Eddie’s grip tightened considerably.

“—but it— I get it. You guys aren’t obligated to listen to my shit. I listen to you guys because I want to. Because I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like Nancy and that new article for the school paper about the different recipe for the meatloaf that makes it taste like dirt, apparently. Or how Polaroid cameras actually date all the way back to like— 1948. Or—“

“But that’s the thing, Steve.” Nancy cut him off. “You listen to these things and remember them because you want to. Because you’re a good friend and good friends listen. We—“ he waved her hand around to all of them “—have not been good friends.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat while Nancy continued.

“The fact that you remember my exact words of calling the meatloaf dirt just proves that. Because we had that conversation, what? A month ago?”

“Three weeks ago.” Me mumbled uselessly.

Nancy sighed.

Robin sat up and took Steve’s face in her hands. “Stevie. We love you. So let us.”

And just like that, Steve was engulfed in a giant group hug.

He didn’t realize how much it’d affected him before now. How being scoffed at and made fun of— even if it was playful— hurt him so much that he’d just stopped talking about things.

When they pulled away Eddie kissed his forehead and Robin kissed his cheek. Steve giggled at the sudden affection.

…

Bonus:

The very next day, Steve saw the change.

Saw the change in how Eddie made sure to ask him about what he was cooking and then let Steve explain the process of a breakfast casserole. How Eddie simply smiled and even engaged with questions as if he was really interested. And maybe Steve didn’t completely believe he was interested, but that was ok. He’d come to his senses eventually.

Then at work Robin made a point to let him choose what they put on the TV for the day and didn’t even complain when he chose the Breakfast Club.

He was scared that they change would last no more than a week. That after some time they’d all go right back to how it was before.

But then a week passed. And two. And three. And then months we’re going by where Steve was allowed to rant and talk and argue about things like cooking and baking and basketball and soccer and volleyball and so much more because they would listen.

And then a year passed and it was April and it was his birthday and when he was surrounded by everyone— the kids, the older teens, even the adults— he opened a present and looked down at the book in his lap.

“Forever Amber”.

Steve will never admit to the tears that he cried that day.

…

Probably gonna do something like this with Lucas and the kids cause I love Lucas ❤️

Here’s that lol:

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wheatnoodle · 1 year

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there’s a dynamic shift when hopper moves in. there’s a father back in the picture.

jonathan does not have good experiences with fathers.

now, he likes hop, he really does. jim’s great to his mom, an incredible dad for el, and he helped save will. jonathan and hopper liking each other is not the issue.

the problem is that when hopper gets angry, he yells. and he likes to have a couple beers at night. and he calls jonathan “kid” like how he used to. so jonathan, who’s already a quiet person, is now next to silent. he speaks when spoken to, doesn’t leave his room and tiptoes on the hardwood floors.

it gets on jim’s nerves. he thought they were a good family. he thought they all got along just fine but now he’s moved in with them, and jonathan is acting like a ghost in his own home. he’s tried to talk to joyce, she tells him to “give him time”.

so hopper is sitting at the kitchen table one night after dinner, reading through the day’s reports. joyce is helping el with her math homework and will is sketching in a notepad next to her. jonathan’s washing up the dishes, scrubbing a glass with this one spot that just won’t. come. off.

and it slips. and glass is shattered on the kitchen floor. jonathan is on the ground in an instant to pick it up, slicing his palm on a shard.

“sh-shit, sorry, im sorry. i- i didn’t mean to, im sorry,” he’s apologizing before he can stop himself.

“honey!” joyce gasps and hurries over, squatting next to him. she places a hand on his shoulder and he looks up, eyes huge and glazed over. “honey, what happened?”

hopper crouches down. goes to grab jonathan’s injured hand. jonathan jolts up, backs up so fast he slams into the counter and hits the back of his head on the overhead cabinet doors.

“i promise i didn’t mean to, ill clean it, i’ll- i’ll fix it, i’m sorry.” jonathan’s shaking his head back and forth, cradling his hand to his chest with his eyes squeezed shut. his breathing is shaking his shoulders. “please, please, please, im so sorry.”

“hey, kid,” jonathan flinches at the name, “it’s okay. nothing to apologize for.”

jim nods once at joyce. she understands and manages to usher el and will into their rooms. she rejoins them soon after. jonathan is still shaking in the same place while hopper is trying to approach him.

hopper lifts a hand and runs it over his face. he doesn’t miss the way the teen’s face cringes up. like he’s waiting for something. like he’s waiting for…jim looks at his own hand and back to jonathan.

“jonathan.”

“i didn’t mean to break it. i swear.”

“i know. it was an accident. accident’s happen.” it’s the calmest joyce has ever heard jim speak. his voice is low, easy and soothing. he’s quiet. he’s warm. she’s watching from the doorway as he opens a new side to himself, just for her kid. just for what he needs.

“im sorry.”

“it’s okay. can i come closer?” jim asks gently, takes a small step forward. jonathan tenses and he stops. “okay. okay. can i see your hand? it looks like you cut yourself pretty good on there.”

he hesitates, but jonathan holds his bleeding hand out, palm up. his arm trembles. he’s eyeing jim wearily, ready to run.

“i just want to look. maybe clean it, if you’ll let me. i’m not going to hurt you,” he says the last part in a tone that sounds like a promise. jonathan stays silent, staring at his hand.

“hey, can you look at me?” jonathan looks up, meets his eyes with terror washed over his own. “i am not going to hurt you.”

“but- dad-“

“lonnie isn’t here. i’m not lonnie. i am not going to hurt you. i will, eyes on me, i will never. hurt you.” jim steps forward again, into jonathan’s space this time. he doesn’t flinch this time, stays where he is as hopper bends his knees a bit to be eye level with him.

“lonnie-“

“is not here,” he’s even quieter, letting the words be heard just for him. “you are safe with me. you hear me? you. are safe. with me.”

jonathan’s subconsciously matching his breathing to jim’s, his eyes never leaving the man’s gaze.

“good work. can you say it?”

“i…am safe. with you,” jonathan whispers, his shoulders slumping tiredly.

“nice job, bud. you are safe. im not angry with you. i will never hurt you. never. okay? you’re my boy,” hopper says it like it’s always been true. like even before he was with joyce, way back to making house visits when lonnie would get violent. and he would see jonathan, only this tiny little kid, and even then, that’s his boy. his oldest. his son.

jonathan visibly relaxes, moving forward and shocking both jim and joyce as he plants his forehead into jim’s shoulder. he doesn’t hug him, just stays there. hopper brings a hand to rest on the back of his head, stroking comfortingly through his hair.

“get something comfy on, we’ll watch a movie or something and relax. but first, let’s go clean up this hand.” and hopper walks with jonathan down the hall, past joyce, a hand on his lower back and jonathan still pressed to his side. joyce cant help that she has tears in her eyes, smiling brightly at her husband as he walks past, protecting her son. he smiles back, warm and full of love.

this is progress.

#stranger things #jopper #joyce byers #jim hopper #byers hopper family #jonathan byers #hurt/comfort #healing #jonathan byers deserves love #ultimate dad jim hopper #chief hopper

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lost-between-letters · 2 years

Text

Hold Me Close

Pairing: Jonathan Byers X Reader (she/her)

Warnings: crying, Jonathan blaming himself, insecurities, emotional hurt/comfort

Word Count: 926

Summary: Will was missing, no one knew how that could have happened and Jonathan was at his limit. There was exactly one person that had a chance at calming him at least a little bit. You.

A/N: listen, I started this show like yesterday (thanks to certain people being obsessed with it - oh boy were you guys right) and I may have gotten a little attached to Jonathan

The news reached her relatively late. Y/N had been pretty much in her own world all throughout the school day and it wasn't unusual to not see Jonathan. Sometimes he worked late and couldn't get out of bed the next morning.

It wasn't a big deal, Y/N took notes for him and they went over them whenever they had time. After, they usually retired to her bed, too exhausted for anything else. Jonathan was going above and beyond to help his mother so Y/N's home was his place to come down. The place where he knew he could relax and leave his responsibilities at the front step.

The first time he had told her that, she had been damn close to crying. This family didn't deserve this. Jonathan didn't deserve this.

So when he stood on her front porch, absolutely drenched from the rain and shivering, Y/N pushed him inside without a second thought.

"Jon, you're freezing!" She said and grabbed for the next best piece of fabric - her own jacket in that case - and wrapped it around his shoulders.

Jonathan let her as he stood immovable. He hadn't said a word yet, let her push him around without resistance. Only then, Y/N realised that something was wrong. "Jonathan?"

"It's Will," he said eventually. His eyes were fixed on a point somewhere behind Y/N's shoulder.

Her mind scrambled back over the day. Had the bullies gotten to his little brother again? No, Y/N hadn't noticed anything. Will's friends had passed her in the hallways once or twice but - oh shit.

"What happened?" Y/N asked, afraid that she already knew what was coming.

Another beat of silence. Then, to her horror, Y/N saw his shoulders shake just the slightest bit. Jonathan was crying. "He's- I-"

"Maybe we should go and sit down for this one," Y/N said gently and guided her boyfriend to her room.

By the time they sat down on her bed, Jonathan was sobbing and shaking like a leaf. Y/N felt like someone had reached in her chest and squeezed at the sight of him. He looked so small right now.

She wrapped one arm around his waist and placed the other hand on the back of his neck. It didn't take more for Jonathan to all but collapse into the hug.

"Shh, it's okay. You're going to be okay," she whispered and rested her chin on top of his head.

Honestly, Y/N had no idea what she was supposed to do. Sure, Jonathan was on the more quiet side - they could go hours without talking - but he had never broken down like this.

And that was all the confirmation she needed. Something terrible had happened to Will.

Just as that thought crystallised in her mind clear as day, Jonathan tensed up. He raised his head from her shoulder, eyes swollen and filled with anger as they bored into hers.

"No, it's not," he said and pushed back, "Will is missing and it's my fault. Nothing will ever be okay."

"Why should it be your fault?" The words were out of her mouth before Y/N had made a conscious decision to speak them. But it was just so ridiculous to think that Jonathan should be responsible for that. He didn't throw him out of the house or shoved Will to the side, that wasn't him.

But Jonathan was too caught in his own guilt to notice Y/N's regret over the blunt question. "I shouldn't have taken that night shift when mom was working, I should have picked him up at Mike's way earlier, I should have known that-"

"Baby, stop."

Y/N reached out again and grasped his hands in her own to stop him from tearing at his own skin. "It's not your fault. It really is not. You couldn't have known any of this. Please don't put the blame on yourself, you can't do that."

"But I should have been there-" Jonathan started. A sob cut him short. "I shouldn't have-"

"You did everything you could, Baby," Y/N said gently. She herself was more than shaken by the news but if she knew one thing than it was that Jonathan was not responsible for any of it.

He shook his head. "No, I should've-"

"Stop. Please."

Y/N didn't know how to make him stop blaming himself so she simply pulled. Pulled until they were laying down, legs tangled and backs already beginning to hurt from the awkward angle. But she had Jonathan's head buried in her neck and his tears were soaking her shirt and his mouth was pressed against her skin and he was sobbing into it. But he stopped counting down impossible reasons how it could have been his fault.

And that was a win. Even if it was a small one.

While Jonathan was crying out all of the shock and fear of the past day, Y/N kept murmuring comforting phrases that neither of them really listened to and held him close. He needed her right now and Y/N would never turn him away.

Eventually, Jonathan's breathing evened out and his grip on her hips went slack. He had cried himself to sleep.

With a sigh, Y/N stretched until she could switch off the night light and throw a blanket over both of them. It wasn't the most comfortable position but she wasn't willing to wake him up again now that he had finally found some peace.

Y/N brushed her lips against his forehead in a soft kiss before she closed her eyes too. "We'll find him, Baby. I promise."

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yellowroseswrites · 1 year

Note

i almost cried from happiness when I found you

Jonathan Byers with a reader with ADHD and anxiety

But not the crying kind

Nerves are always fried, just stressed

knee bounces

Hands are always doing something, tracing patterns, playing with rings,

Doesn't mind crowds but some people give her random anxiety

Isn't to worried about school, but is worried about Jonathan, anxiety for loved ones

I need him not trying to fix her. Trying to appreciate her for who she is

Here you go :)

"Your string of lights is still bright to me"

Jonathan Byers x Adhd!Anxious!Fem Reader [she/her pronouns used]

{TW/CW}- Talks of adhd, fidgeting, food is mentioned, reader doesn’t eat breakfast bc of executive dysfunction, but jon does have her eat, but the actual action of eating isnt discussed, sweet jonathan byers, I love him your honor, mentions him trying to ‘help’ her but it's not fixing her, reader has issues with body temperature, like she gets hot flashes bc of overthinking and stuff, jon calls reader honey once

{Authors note}- Tbh, i kinda hate this fic, but I love jon and this reader. so please, if you have any specific scenarios or prompts you want to see with them, send me an ask with it. i want to write for them more! GIF creds to the owner, title creds to taylor swift

{Word count}- 1,101. It's a short one today babes

There was no one in this world that you loved more than Jonathan Byers. He meant everything to you. He accepted you for who you were, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

You can remember clearly how it felt when he realized there was something off about you. You can remember how you were certain he would leave you. You remember telling him about your ADHD and being scared that he would think differently of you. You remember describing what it was like to live the way you live, with feeling nervous and fidgety for no apparent reason. You thought you were too much for him, you had too many things wrong with you.

And you can remember the indescribable peace you felt when he held your hands and told you he loved you. Even with your faults, though he would never see them as such. It was all you. He promised himself that he would never let you think less of yourself for things you couldn’t control.

That’s not to say it was easy, because it wasn’t. It still isn’t. But Jonathan’s effort to help will always have you falling for him all over again. He spends his time watching and noticing, picking up on ways he can help you.

Sometimes it’s small things, one’s that you don’t even pick up on. He’ll buy you new rings and bracelets, ones with beads and charms that you can fidget with. He’ll place rubber pieces to the ends of your pencils for you to chew on to keep your pretty little nails intact. He rubs his hand along your back when bouncing your knee, keeping you calm but never making you stay still. He lets you run your fingers through his hair when you need to do something with your hands. He keeps the temperature cooler when he knows you’re coming over, afraid you’ll overthink and overheat.

Sometimes it’s bigger things, things that make you feel like a burden. He’ll stay over at your place when you can’t fall asleep, or drive you around until your eyes flutter closed. He’ll leave with you if you get overwhelmed, anytime and anywhere. He always asks you before inviting someone else to hang out with yall, you’re always his first priority. He would shut someone up immediately if they said anything bad about you or the way you were acting.

You had only told a few of your friends. You tended to avoid the subject, you didn’t like the way people would view you differently or the way they would treat you. You didn’t want to hear about how you should ‘take a deep breath’ or ‘just sit still’. Many people just didn’t understand, but Jonathan did.

Today was a particularly bad day. You woke up and the temperature was too hot in your room. When you wake up warm, your day is wrong, that’s how it works. You don’t know why and you always try to get past it, but your bad day usually continues to persist.

You didn’t want to brush your teeth. You weren’t too tired, or too lazy, you just felt like you couldn’t. You saw the toothbrush, and you saw the toothpaste, and you couldn’t. So, you went to your kitchen to grab something for breakfast, maybe something to kickstart your day, but nothing seemed appealing.

Finally, you simply settled in your bed. You laid down and stared at your ceiling while you let your thoughts run freely. You heard the phone ring but you couldn’t get up to get it. You couldn’t do anything but stare and think and run your hands along your blankets. You weren’t aware of how much time had passed before you heard a small knock at your door.

“Come in”

The door creaked slightly and you heard a familiar set of footsteps approach you.

“Bad day sweetheart?” Jonathan asked as he sat down on your bed, weighing down the left side and causing you to roll a little bit.

You laughed as you sat up and motioned for Jonathan to lie down. He laid back against your lap, your hands soon finding their way to his hair.

“I’m fine.”

Even with his face being upside down for you, you could tell he didn’t believe you. He hummed before he responded,

“You sure? You didn’t answer my call and you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“How do you even know that?”

“When you eat breakfast, you have a snack right after, or chew gum. You have to keep chewing.” He replied casually, as though he didn’t just call out a specific detail a normal person would never take notice of.

It scared you a bit, and yet it didn’t surprise you at all. He always noticed things that you thought people would try to ignore. He never once judged you or tried to ‘save’ you, he only asked how he could help, and sometimes he knew you better than you knew yourself.

You were quiet while you thought, though your hands were still brushing through the boy's hair. You sighed before you spoke, “Don’t you ever get tired of me?”

Jonathan sat up at that and turned to face you, “Why would you think that?” His hands found yours before you could bring your nails to your mouth.

“I just, I don’t know, I’m a very tiring person I guess. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you ever thought I was too much.” It most certainly would hurt your feelings, but you wouldn’t say that.

He took in a breath, you could see in his eyes he was a little hurt.

Of course, you thought, he is tired of me. I gave him an out and he’s going to take it.

“Oh honey,” here it is, “I could never get tired of you.”

“Nothing you do is ‘too much’. You mean everything to me, I could never think of you like that.”

It’s moments like this that make you wonder how you were so lucky as to have Jonathan in your life. You don’t say anything back, you just allow his words to fill your mind. You take a moment to believe them. Even if you don’t feel that way about yourself, you know he wouldn’t lie to you.

Jonathan seems to know that that’s all you needed to hear. He also knows he’ll have to tell you again, and again, and again, but he doesn’t mind. He’ll tell you forever if you needed him to.

He stands up and holds out his hand, “Come on, let’s go get something to eat mkay?”

#yellowroseswrites #comfort fics #jonathan byers x reader #adhd!reader #anxious!reader #jonathan byers loml #executive dysfunction #stranger things x reader #jonathan byers x you #jonathan byers x y/n #jonathan byers x reader hurt/comfort #jonathan byers x reader fluff

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thaliaisalesbian · 10 months

Text

i get myself twisted in threads

Chapter 7: writin' something about someone

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

He doesn’t know where he is. It’s too dark to tell.

It could be anywhere. His house, the school, Henderson’s basement.

All he knows is that it’s not the kind of dark that he likes, the dark where the stars and the moon are.

It’s the kind of dark that comes from the power cutting out. From someone hitting him on the head a little too hard.

It’s darker than the tunnels were. The kind of dark that hides monsters.

He can just barely make out the shapes of the kids, laying on the floor; he can feel what he thinks is Dustin’s cold hand on his ankle. He thinks Max is across from him, leaning against Lucas, and Will and Mike are over there, too. He can’t make out any of their features clearly.

There’s a cold weight propped against his right side, and he has the sinking feeling that it’s El.

He can’t feel her breathing.

He can’t feel her breathing, and Dustin’s always making noise, even when he’s sleeping, and right now it’s silent.

It’s all his fault.

They must still be trapped in the Upside Down.

They came to find him, and instead, they’re all dead.

It’s all his fault.

finish on ao3

<- 6 8 ->

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orangesunsets12 · 1 year

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Jonathan didn’t know where he went wrong. He thought that everything would be perfect. He made sure that everything would be perfect. But, it wasn’t. It wasn’t even close. Everything went wrong, no matter how hard he tried, or how long he prepared.

He sighed, staring out at the quarry that carried so many unwelcome memories, distantly knowing that it was the one place that no one would expect him to be. He wasn’t sure if it was a good thing, but he didn’t want Will or his mom to see him like this. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this.

As the cold air brushed across his face, ruffling the suit he wore, he tried to push away the tears that threatened to appear. He closed his eyes, but all he could see was her, his Nancy, staring at him with wide, fearful eyes, her white dress making all of her beauty shine, yet the moment heartbreaking, her lips moving slowly, as if all time had slowed down. He could feel the agony of her words rip open his heart once again, and he knew that he wouldn’t recover.

I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

He could hear the gasps from the crowd, he could see her run away from him, he could see his own hand reach for her, but she was out of his reach. He could hear himself scream her name, before everything plunged into silence.

I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

He didn’t remember what happened after that. He assumed that he ran away too, away from her, from everyone eagerly reaching for him, from the chaos that her words left behind. He didn’t like running, he didn’t want to make a habit of it. Running meant leaving Will behind with Lonnie, it meant leaving Nancy behind in a hospital full of monsters, it meant leaving El in a desert, alone. He never wanted to run.

But, today, on his wedding day, the day that was supposed to be the happiest of his life, he ran. He ran further and faster than he ever had before, sobbing, nearly collapsing from the effort to stand. But, what else could he do? She didn’t want to marry him. She didn’t want him.

Coldness brought him out of his thoughts. Jonathan hadn’t realized he was shivering until he felt grass pressing into his skin that was covered in goosebumps, getting his fancy tuxedo dirty. He desperately ripped off the bow tie, wanting to breathe despite the sobs that still wracked his body.

Where did he go wrong? Where did he go wrong? Why didn’t she want him?

He pressed his hands over his mouth, trying to stop the scream that had built up in his throat. He had to stay strong, everything was a mess and he needed to stay strong. It was the only way that he could beat this heartbreak that threatened to drown him.

He didn’t know how long he sat there crying, but he soon heard a car pull up behind him, and he opened his eyes weakly, dropping his hands and wiping the tears away from his cheeks. He looked up and saw Steve Harrington step out of his car, a deep frown on his face, his own suit rumpled, a bag of takeout in his hand.

Jonathan took a minute to study Steve. He didn’t seem happy, or mad, he seemed…hurt. Compassion, sympathy, and concern shined in his eyes, and Jonathan didn’t have to wonder why he chose Steve to be one of his groomsmen. Steve cared about him, even if they had a rough history. Steve was kind, and he wanted to help him.

“Hey.” Steve said softly, walking over to Jonathan and sitting beside him, handing him the bag. “If you’re hungry.”

Jonathan took it reluctantly, the warmth from the food giving life to his frozen fingers. He opened the bag to see two burgers and two fries, exactly what he bought Will whenever they both had a bad day. He tried to smile as a thank you, but Steve shook his head.

“You don’t have to lie to me, dude. You really don’t. Fake smiles are worse than frowns.”

Jonathan let his smile drop, thankful for Steve’s understanding nature. “Thanks.”

Steve nodded, taking off his jacket and handing it to Jon.

“You look freezing.”

“But, then you’ll get cold.” Jonathan weakly protested, but Steve shook his head.

“I won’t be.”

Once the jacket was secure around Jonathan’s shoulders, he began eating, staring out at the quarry in silence. Steve looked out, too, and Jon found himself also thankful for his presence.

“How is it, back at the church? You know…the wedding.” He asked softly, and Steve hummed, running his hand through his hair momentarily.

“It’s…strange. Joyce and Hopper managed to get everyone calm as soon as you left, and now people are cleaning up.”

“And Nancy?”

“She, uhh…” Steve sighed, refusing to meet Jonathan’s eyes. “She left with her mom, no one got to talk to her except for a select few.”

“Which means? She talked to you?” Jonathan asked, feeling numb at the words, and Steve nodded.

“Yeah. She told me that she didn’t want to marry you. I told her she was crazy for leaving you at the altar.”

Jonathan felt his throat tighten at the words, tears burning behind his eyes once more., his mind searching for answers. He knew that, if it was back in 1986, Nancy would’ve refused to marry Jonathan because she loved Steve. But, now, years later? He knew that it wasn’t an option. Steve had moved on from Nancy, and Nancy wasn’t interested in him at all. This knowledge gave Jonathan some relief, as he was so, so happy that Steve wasn’t his enemy but his friend, a friend that Nancy would also talk to, but he was still left to question why. Why would she do this? Did it make her happy to see him so hurt, so betrayed? Was it an impulsive decision, or did she always know that she was going to leave him waiting at the altar? Why run when they had planned this day, their future, for forever?

“She was upset, though.” Steve continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was really upset. I don’t think that she ever wanted to hurt you.”

“Then why do it?” Jonathan asked, “Why leave me at the altar, tell everyone that she didn’t want to marry me? Why would she do that?”

Steve took a minute before responding, ripping small pieces of grass from the ground and rubbing it with his fingers, spinning the blade of grass around and around.

“I think she loves you, Jonathan, but I think that she’s not ready for a relationship that…is permanent. She has such big dreams, maybe she’s scared of commitment? And, she struggles a bit with communication, so I think that she didn’t know how to tell you that. Maybe. I…I really don’t know. I thought that nothing would go wrong between you two, but obviously…” Steve gestured around randomly with his hands, but Jonathan knew what he meant. Obviously the wedding didn’t go to plan. Obviously their relationship wasn’t as perfect as they wanted it to be. Obviously something was wrong.

Jonathan nodded slowly, using a spare napkin in the takeout bag to wipe off his hands, the food already gone. He hadn’t even realized he was hungry until he had food right in front of him. The tightness in his chest wasn’t gone, but he felt a bit better, which had seemed impossible an hour ago.

“You’re probably right. It still sucks, though.” He responded, and Steve let out a heavy breath.

“Of course it does. She hurt you in one of the worst ways possible.” Steve said. “I’m just trying to see her side, but honestly? I’m so mad. You don’t deserve that, Jonathan. You didn’t deserve any of it.” His hands formed fists and he pressed them into the ground, as if trying to hide his anger. Jonathan wasn’t a fan of when Steve got angry like this, back in high school it meant that he wanted to fight, and lately it meant that he was fighting monsters from the Upside Down, but now he found himself relieved by the action. Jonathan thought that, if Steve could be angry, maybe he could be, too.

Yet the anger didn’t come. All he felt was confusion, pain, and heartache. He wished that everything would become numb like before, but he didn’t know how to do it again.

“Look, how about this?” Steve said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts and turning towards Jonathan. In the dim light Jonathan could see Steve look at him with the same compassion as before, but more determination. “You’ll have to figure things out with Nancy, obviously. Why don’t you do that tomorrow, or in a couple of days? Tonight, why don’t we go to my house, order pizza, and just watch crappy movies all night. I’ll invite Will if you want me to. We’ll hang out just as guys, and deal with romance problems later.”

Jonathan huffed, shaking his head. “Dude, I don’t know. I have to go back to the church and help clean up, there’s probably a million things to do with the ceremony and the planned reception that I have to deal with.”

“It’s already taken care of. Bridesmaids and groomsmen are supposed to help, whether the wedding goes on or not. I can call Hopper and Joyce, but I’m confident that all of that messy stuff is done. Today was supposed to be your special day, Jonathan. Don’t let what Nancy did ruin it completely.”

He knew that Steve was right. Today had been a horrible day, and he knew that he would be feeling even worse later. So, tonight, to be able to do absolutely nothing, to be able to avoid the consequences of Nancy’s actions, the questions that everyone would no doubt be asking? It sounded perfect.

Steve, as if he knew what Jonathan was thinking, got to his feet, and held out his hand.

“So? What do you say, Byers?”

Jonathan managed a small smile, a real smile filled with gratitude, and took Steve’s hand, letting him pull him to his feet.

“I’m in.”

Steve smiled, too, and they made their way to Steve’s car in silence.

Jonathan could still feel a pain in his chest, something strong weighing him down, making every thought and feeling too strong, yet he found himself hopeful. Things would probably get worse before it got better. He had no clue what the future would hold for him anymore. He had no clue if he and Nancy would make it through this. Yet, through all of it, he knew that he would have people to help him, to be there when things got tough, to be an ear to listen or a voice to give advice. He knew that Steve, the last person he would’ve ever expected to help him, would be there every step of the way, and he found great comfort in it.

He knew that a “thank you” wouldn’t be enough, so he promised himself that he would be there for Steve no matter what, exactly like Steve was there for him at this very moment.

Storms would always be storms, but at least they could get through them together.

#this was a WIP that I just quickly finished.#I hope that everyone liked it!#jonathan byers #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fanfiction #hurt/comfort #angst #friendship #steve and jonathan friendship #im so glad that I was able to get the motivation to write this #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #stranger things fanfic author #i was so stuck on the ending lol #this will be posted to AO3 soon!

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tooearlyforthis · 1 year

Text

The Hawkins House Sale

Hey guys I have something a little different today. I wanted to write a Steve and Max are siblings fic so no reader insert or main romantic plot line but I am really proud of this so let me know what you think!

Word Count: 9.6k

Synopsis: It's sad, really, knowing so far in advance that you'll be forgotten by everyone you know and love. Hawkins is still a mess after defeating Vecna and everyone is moving away - Steve, however, isn't. Or in which Steve takes care of everyone but himself.

Warnings: post-season 4, no romantic pairing, steve and max have a sibling relationship, steve-centric, hurt/comfort, found family

Click here to see my masterlist

There was something about being in danger that made Steve Harrington feel important. Sure, it was nice to not have death looming over his shoulder every waking moment, but, there were still small things he missed.

Weird conversations with Robin, sleepovers with Dustin... hell, he didn't even mind when Mike cursed his head off. At least there was someone there. So when they defeated Vecna and Hawkins was once again saved, he envied his friends who got to return home to their families.

Steve’s house was always empty. It didn’t matter if it was a holiday or a normal Tuesday - he was the only one who ever stepped foot in the Harrington house. It didn’t bother him anymore, remembering the days of sophomore year, when he would wait for his parents by the door. They never came back from that west coast business trip. Instead, a lousy check arrived every month in their place.

Opening the door to his house, a familiar silence washed over him. It wasn’t a mess, quite far from the opposite. Not a piece of trash was in sight, the blankets stacked so neatly that they could’ve been brand new. Part of him wished it was a little dirty if only to feel the prescience of another person around him.

He let the nail-filled bat drop to the floor and made his way to the kitchen. As expected, the food in the fridge expired weeks ago. This last battle with the Upside Down was the longest he had ever been away. Vecna had put up a nasty fight and he found himself crashing on Nancy or Robin’s couches most nights. He didn’t mind it though, not wanting to return home alone. But now that Vecna was gone, there was no turning away from the Harrington home.

Sighing, he closed the fridge door and picked up his keys - maybe he could avoid being alone for just a little longer. After all, he needed to get some food for the house.

The trip to the grocery store wasn't long and before he knew it, he had a cart full of fresh produce and a microwave pizza. He pursued the aisles one more time, debating whether he had gotten everything he needed. Deciding it was, he turned the corner, coming face to face with the freshly-cut flowers.

He stopped, staring at the different types: daffodils, roses, dragon lilies… dragon lilies. They reminded him of the flowers he had sent to Will Byers’ funeral back when everyone thought he was dead. At the time, he wasn’t close enough with the Byers family to attend but felt guilty not sending anything.

Moving forward he reached out to observe the flowers, turning over the vibrant pink petals in his hand. He hoped that one day when he died people would bring flowers to his funeral, a reminder that someone actually cared for him.

Eddie Munson didn’t get flowers at his funeral, Steve thought to himself.

He didn’t know Eddie outside the countless stories Dustin told or the four days they spent together leading up to his death. He knew a private funeral was held for him through Dustin. Only a few of his Dnd friends and his Uncle Wayne attended, knowing if it was bigger some non-friendly people might show up.

So as Steve stared at the dragon lilies in his hand and then back at his basket of food; he decided again that he could avoid the Harrington house for just a little longer. Taking a bundle of dragon lilies, he headed towards the checkout line, leaving the basket of food abandoned in the middle of the store.

He didn’t know where Eddie was buried but if he had to guess it would be at Roane Hill Cemetery. Lucky for him, he was right. It was dark when he arrived, the only light illuminating the field was from his flashlight.

He stared down at Eddie’s grave, saddened by the sight in front of him. Photos and letters were resting on the tombstone probably from the funeral Dustin mentioned, but all of them had been destroyed. The letters were ripped up, the photos graffitied with awful words he didn’t care to repeat. The town had labeled him a freak, and it pained Steve to know that he did the same.

Placing the flowers down on the grave bed, he wanted to leave, to run away back to a place where he didn’t have to think about the people injured or dead from the events of the Upside Down.

He didn’t know if it was not wanting to return to that big empty house, or guilt from never getting to know Eddie, but something inside him told him to stay. Sitting on the ground, leaning against the side of the tombstone, he sighed.

“What happened to me, Munson?” He asked into the cold, night air.

He knew there would be no response, but there was still a little part of him that waited for an answer.

🏠🏠🏠

Being alone was not good for Steve’s mental health, especially when he hadn’t seen another person for a whole week. That is why he didn’t care Dustin showed up at his house unannounced. Usually, he would curse him off for inviting himself in, but he was so relieved to see another person that he hugged him. He actually hugged Dustin Henderson.

It was short-lived as Dustin pushed him off, walking into his living room. “Jeez, dude what was that for?”

Steve shrugged, trying to say anything. “I-“

“-Never mind,” he interrupted, sitting on the couch. “Can you come to help me and my mom pack? Everyone is helping their own parents and my mom is getting a little too old to grab all the kitchen glasses without breaking one.”

Even though they had defeated Vecna, stopping the infection of the Upside Down into the real world, Hawkins was still a mess. There were cracks running through the whole town; homes, and businesses destroyed in the aftermath of their fight. It made sense that everyone was up and leaving, especially since this wasn’t the first strange thing to occur in the suburban neighborhood.

Dustin was the one that told him a few days after things returned to normal - or as normal as things could be. Most of the town, including all of his friends, were moving a couple of cities over to a new neighborhood being built. It seemed nice enough and for a moment Steve considered joining them. That was until he reminded himself of his situation.

With Family Video destroyed and businesses shutting down left and right, Steve had no income. The only source of money he had at the moment was the checks his parents continued to send and he was 100% certain they had no idea Hawkins was in ruins. He couldn’t leave, having no way of buying a new home or even finding a job good enough to support him with only a high school diploma. So while his friends were moving away to start their new lives, Steve would be stuck in Hawkins alone.

And even though it pained him that his friends were leaving, probably to never return again, he said, “Sure. I’ll stop by tomorrow.”

“Awesome!” Dustin exclaimed, standing back up again and walking towards the door. “I gotta get back to my mom, see ya later!”

Without waiting for a response, he left, leaving Steve again in silence. Dustin didn’t know that he wasn’t leaving with them, and neither did the rest of their little group. It would be easier to let them all go, slowly forgetting him. He would be left alone for good.

Maybe now would be a good time to get fresh flowers for Eddie’s grave.

At first, Steve didn’t understand why he felt the need to return to Eddie’s grave so frequently. He thought maybe it was guilt, after all, he was the one who suggested Eddie and Dustin go off to cause a distraction. But as he returned for the third time that week, replacing the dead bouquet of dragon lilies on his grave, it finally dawned on him why.

With everyone moving away or thinking he was a murderer, Eddie Munson was destined to be forgotten. People stop existing when there is no one left to remember them and Steve didn’t think he deserved that.

He wondered if he would stop existing once everyone moved on and forgotten him.

After spending half an hour in silence, he figured he probably should get back home. Standing up and brushing off his knees, he looked up over the sea of graves. That’s when he spotted her.

He was unsure at first, a hoodie covering her signature red hair but after staring for a moment he knew it had to be Max Mayfield. Without thinking, he took a step towards her, breaking a branch under his feet.

Max’s head snapped between him and the grave she was standing in front of - Billy’s grave. She had been crying, that much he could see under her sunken eyes. They made eye contact for only a moment, neither of them knowing what to do. He hadn’t seen her since Vecna was defeated but if he had to guess she wasn’t doing too well either. Suddenly, she turned around, speed walking out of the cemetery without looking back.

Sighing, Steve headed back to his car. From that day on, anytime he brought flowers for Eddie, he also brought ones for Billy.

🏠🏠🏠

Somehow helping Dustin pack turned into helping everyone pack and Steve didn’t mind one bit. It helped keep his thoughts at bay, the constant fear of what would happen once they left pushed to the back of his brain.

His favorite household to help was the now-merged Hopper-Byers. It surprised him at first at how open and inviting Joyce and Hopper were, even though he was a random guy that got mixed up in all their drama. What was even more surprising was how much Steve liked spending time with Jonathan.

If they were both being honest, the guy basically stole his girlfriend. And even though in the end he realized he and Nancy were not a right fit, it still felt odd to be around the happy couple. That was until he started helping Jonathan pack up his house.

Nancy had her own family to worry about so it left the boys in an uncomfortable state. The glue that usually held together their conversations was gone, leaving awkward silence in its wake. But then, one day while they were quietly folding clothes in his room, Jonathan started humming a song.

“What song is that?” Steve asked, causing Jonathan to snap his head up and stare.

It had been four days of no talking, just cleaning the house and packing boxes. Stuttering, Jonathan responded, “I-It’s uh, Disorder by Joy Division.”

“C-cool. It’s uh… it sounds cool.”

Jonathan slowly nodded, turning back to his pile of clothes only for a moment before looking back up at him. “I-I have the album. If you want me to play it.”

Steve couldn’t help a smile form on his face. “Yeah, sure.”

After Jonathan finally found the box of his tapes and popped it into his stereo, it was safe to say no packing was done for the rest of the day. The boys sat in the silence of his bed bobbing their heads along to the album.

Steve really liked Joy Division. All his life he had only listened to whatever pop music came on the radio or the songs that the girl he was dating was into. Listening to this band, who Jonathan identified to have a “contemporary punk feel,” made him realize that he never bothered to discover what music he liked. He always got swept up in the popular trends or whomever he was around, never doing something just for himself.

After that night, Steve went out and bought the entirety of Joy Division’s discography.

It wasn’t just music that he liked talking to Jonathan about. After another day of packing and listening to The Cure, Steve stumbled upon Jonathan’s photography.

The guy was actually good, like, really good. So good in fact, that he actually thought they were prints Jonathan had bought, not taken himself. Steve let him explain what inspired the photo, the angle, shutter speed, and even the process of developing it.

None of it made any sense to him but it didn’t matter because he enjoyed learning about it. He was never a creative kid, usually sticking to sports like basketball and swimming. But hearing Jonathan talk about his passions made him want to go out and discover more of his own.

That night, after they had finished packing most of his vinyl, Steve left for the living room to give his farewells to Joyce and Hopper.

“See you tomorrow Ms. Byers,” Steve said, reaching for their doorknob.

“Oh, Steve sweetie wait!” Joyce called out from the kitchen, running over to him. “Do you have any plans tonight? Why don’t you stay for dinner.”

“It’s okay Ms. Byers I don’t wanna impose-“

“Nonsense, kid,” Hopper said, emerging from the kitchen holding a pot. “Stay and eat with us.”

Steve looked back and forth between the couple. It was clear they wouldn’t give up anytime soon and whatever they were cooking smelled amazing - he couldn’t remember the last time he had a home-cooked meal.

“Sure, Ms. Byers,” he gave in. “I’d love to.”

“Perfect!” she said with a smile. “We’re almost ready, let me just set the table.”

“Let me help,” he said, not waiting for a response as he walked over and grabbed a plate.

“Kids! Come out for dinner, Steve is gonna eat with us!” Hopper yelled.

One by one, they all emerged from their rooms, Jonathan the first to come, happy his new friend was staying. Then came El and Will, running away quickly to wash off paint from the new project they were working on together.

Once they were all seated and began their meal, Steve expect more awkward pauses and weird small talk but none of that ever occurred. He was thrown right into the conversations like he had been there the entire time.

“No, Jonathan it was The Clash!” Will persisted. “I remember we listened to it and Should I Stay or Should I Go on the same day.”

“It wasn’t!” Jonathan argued back. “It definitely wasn’t.”

As he listened to the brothers argue about their music, he felt a tug on his shoulder. Looking over, Eleven was staring at him wide-eyed.

“What is The Clash?” she asked.

“It’s a band your brothers like,” he told her before turning to address Will. “And they don’t sing Sweet Jane, The Velvet Underground does.”

Jonathan waved his hands in the air. “Thank you!”

“Wow, Steve, you sure know a lot about music,” Joyce commented, sipping on her glass of wine.

“Only through Jonathan,” he explained. “But I do really like the music.”

“You have good taste then,” Hopper commented.

Steve turned to look at the cop. Out of everyone there he probably knew Hopper the most but for all the wrong reasons. When he was younger, still hanging out with Carol Perkins and Tommy Hagan, he got in a ridiculous amount of trouble. So much so, that every time he was brought into the sheriff’s office, Hopper would groan.

But now, sitting in front of him once more, there was no sense of distaste or hatred written on his face. In fact, he was grinning. Steve tried not to smile too wide, looking down at his lap to try and hide his face. He was happy that after all these years of fighting side by side against the Upside Down, his opinion of Steve had finally changed.

After helping clean up from dinner, Steve finally left the Hopper-Byers household. He stepped out into the cold night air, leaving way later than he should have - it was already dark outside. He felt his chest rise, as he tugged on the door to his car. He really didn’t want to go home to that silent house. He didn’t want to be reminded of the family he didn’t have after spending so much time with the nicest one.

Shit, he cursed in his head. And I never got those flowers.

Well, he has to go get those flowers, he never missed a day replacing them. Going home would have to wait.

🏠🏠🏠

An hour had passed by the time he got to Eddie’s grave, crouching down to place the new set of dragon lilies on his tombstone. He wanted to stay longer like he always did, but it was too cold outside to warrant any more time in a graveyard at night.

Standing back up, he grabbed the other bundle of flowers, trekking his way across to Billy’s grave. He expected to be alone, but when he shined his flashlight onto the headstone, there was someone lying across it.

Yelping, he stumbled back, tripping his own feet and falling to the floor. He let out a loud breath and pointed his flashlight back at the grave, a hooded figure slowly sitting up.

He was concerned when he saw who it was.

“Max?” he asked confused. “What are you doing here?”

Rubbing her eyes, she willed herself to focus on him. “Oh, hey Steve,” she said nonchalantly. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? What are you doing sleeping on your brother’s grave? It’s too late for you to be out here alone.”

Glancing up at the sky, she shrugged her shoulders. “It wasn’t dark when I got here.”

“By why are you here?”

She moved to stand up, pulling off her hood to reveal her vibrant red hair, still visible in the dead of night. “That’s none of your concern.”

Steve stood up, watching as she walked off with no more explanation. He was so confused at what had just happened but he knew that there was no way she was walking home alone. Quickly, placing down Billy’s flowers, he raced after her, falling in step with her walking.

“Max, you’re not walking home that’s the other side of town,” he told her.

“I can and I will.”

“No, you aren’t.” He stepped in front of her, grabbing one of her arms in an effort to stop her. Too sleepy to fight him, she did. “I drove here. Come on,” he said, motioning to his car behind them.

Rolling her eyes, she followed him. They got in the car awkwardly. Neither of them spent any time with one another when they weren’t fighting monsters. Why would they? He barely knew the girl who was four years younger than him.

“You gotta tell me why you were out here,” he said, breaking the silence. “Or I won’t start the car.”

Her eyes darted to his. “Then I’ll leave.”

She reached for the door handle, pulling hard - it didn’t budge. He had turned on the door locks the minute they go in the car, anticipating this from the stubborn girl.

“Talk,” he said.

Sighing, she crossed her arms, leaning back in her seat. “My mom gets drunk a lot, doesn’t care where I go…” she began, not meeting his eyes. “I come out here at night sometimes to be with Billy.” She shrugged. “I just don’t want to be alone- you know what it doesn’t matter.”

Steve didn’t know how to respond to that. He knows what she is feeling all too well. Instead of replying, he turned the ignition, and the car came to life.

Turning her head, she looked at him. “Are you taking me back to the trailer park?” she asked.

“No,” he responded, pulling away from the sidewalk. And that was all she needed to know.

They were quiet on the ride back and Max didn’t question anything when they pulled into his driveway. As they got out of the car, it dawned on him that other than Robin, Nance, and Dustin, no one had ever stepped foot in his house. He didn’t have to worry about a mess because he knew he didn’t leave one, but still, he felt anxious as he unlocked the front door.

Max stepped inside after him, taking in the living room. It was a nice house, definitely better than the trailer park but it wasn’t as fancy as everyone always imagined it was. There were knick-knacks everywhere from his mom’s traveling days before Steve was born, a rack for shoes by the door with only his stacked on it. It wasn’t some museum with untouchable art, but a once cozy home abandoned by its family.

Steve ushered her to follow him. She did, walking up the rugged stairs and into what she could only assume was the master suite. Sitting down on the bed, she waited for him as he rustled through the drawers. No one had slept in this room since his parents left so it took a couple of tries to remember where everything was.

Finally, he found the right drawer, pulling out a pair of pajamas his mother had left behind. He placed him on the bed next to her before moving to leave. Reaching to pull the door closed behind him, she finally spoke.

“Wait,” she whispered, shuffling slightly on the mattress. “Why do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked.

She looked up at him, that stern facade she always wore fading away. “Bring flowers to Billy’s grave. He was a bully and I’ve seen him kick your ass enough times to know you weren’t friends.”

Steve shrugged. “He was important to you and that means he was important to me.”

Max nodded softly, feeling her eyes water but not making any more to wipe them clean. He nodded back, closing the door to let her get some sleep. Both of them would never admit it to the other, but finding each other in the cemetery was the best thing that could have ever happened.

The next morning, Steve made sure to get up extra early and cook an actual breakfast. Not some half-assed meal that would satisfy him for the day but an actual meal, eggs, bacon, and pancakes included. He knew how to cook decently, having been on his own since the age of 15, but the food was never extraordinary.

As Max walked into the kitchen and spotted the food, he could see her eyes light up. He turned to her, handing over a glass of orange juice as she sat down at the kitchen counter.

“Thanks,” she said, taking it from him.

“Of course,” he responded, before going back to make a plate for himself. He opted to stay on the other side of the counter and eat standing up, both of them still not knowing each other well enough to sit close and eat in silence.

After taking a bite of her eggs, Max twisted in her seat to stare around the kitchen. “Are you hiring movers to pack everything up?” she asked.

He shook his head, “I’m not moving.”

“Oh…could I ask why?”

He had never told anyone his plans to stay, and part of him felt relieved when someone actually cared enough to ask. “My parents aren’t around anymore and even though this house makes it seem like we have a lot of money, we don’t- or at least I don’t.”

“Where are they? Your parents I mean.”

“I like to think Seattle,” he said nonchalantly; like it was normal to not know why his parents weren’t home. “But knowing my old man they moved to the desert. Maybe Las Vegas, I don’t know…somewhere to match his dry personality.”

Max snorted into her drink, placing it down quickly. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

“No, it was. Trust me, they’ve been gone long enough that the jokes don’t hurt anymore.”

She nodded, using her fork to play with her food. “I-I’m not moving either if that makes you feel better.”

Steve twisted his head in surprise. He knew that she was hurting from the very few words they exchanged about the subject; but he still figured she would be moving too, ready to start her new life in a fresh town.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Not looking up, she continued. “My mom’s barely coherent enough to know I sneak out most nights. Do you really think she has any idea what’s going on in town right now?”

He didn’t respond, not needing to. The now comfortable silence was enough between them that they knew they could relate to each other’s problems. And even though they never verbalized it, both of them knew that she was never stepping foot in that trailer park again.

🏠🏠🏠

“Will, can you pass me that blanket?” Steve asked the youngest Byers child.

“Sure,” he responded, reaching over to grab it off the couch and hanging it to him.

“Thanks.”

It had been three weeks since the night he found Max at the cemetery and she hadn’t gone back to her home since. It was a weird adjustment at first, to have someone in his house after being alone for so long, but he wasn’t complaining. The company alone, even in the form of a stubborn teenager that barely respected him, was better than having no one at all.

They hadn’t seen her mother either in those weeks either and it made him sad that she didn’t even make an attempt to find her daughter. No missing person flyers, no reports - he would have heard it from Hopper by now - and no communication. He felt this hate for Mrs. Mayfield that was stronger than he cared to admit. Max had a parent around, one that was alive and in the same town as her yet made no effort to reach out. At least his parents left town before deciding they didn’t want a son anymore. To do that to Max… it had to hurt way more than his loss ever did.

He spent time with her, watching movies, reading books, and when they were eventually both ready, helping everyone pack again. No one knew they were living together, neither of them wanting pity or sadness from their friends. So while Steve stayed in the front, helping pack up Dustin’s living room with Will, Max was in the study helping Lucas.

He knew that Robin was helping Dustin with his room but that wasn’t what he was focused on at the moment. What he wanted to know more about was why Will kept glancing over and Eleven and Mike Wheeler packing up the kitchen.

Steve had his suspicions, ones that he didn’t have last summer, and he wondered if Will was anything like Robin. He couldn’t know for sure, Robin claiming to have a sense about these things that he could never have, but it didn’t hurt to test the waters.

“So,” Steve began carefully. “Anyone special moving over to Fulton with you guys?”

“What?” Will asked, his gaze snapping from the kitchen to the shelf in front of him. “N-no! No girlfriend. Just me…” He grabbed another book and placed it in his box.

“I didn’t say, girlfriend…” Will’s eyes grew wide as he looked back at him. “I said anyone special.”

Steve couldn’t enter Will’s mind as Eleven could so he didn’t know for certain what he was thinking. If he had to guess, probably be shock and anxiety over someone finding out a secret he so desperately was trying to hide.

“I hope you find someone special in Fulton Will, and I think I know a person that could help with that.”

“Y-yeah?” he asked, trying to figure out if they were really on the same page or not.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, think of her like your wingman. Come on, I’ll introduce you guys.” He stood up, waiting for Will to do the same.

“N-now? They’re here right now?”

“Yep, come on.”

He guided the young boy through the house until reaching Dustin’s room. Gently knocking on the door to make their presence known, he watched his two closest friends look up at him.

“Hey Robs, we’re gonna switch for the rest of the day,” he said.

“Why?” she asked with furrowed brows.

“We just are, come help Will in the living room.”

Still confused as to why they were changing duos, Robin walked out to meet Steve in the living room. He placed a hand on her shoulder and motioned to Will.

“Here’s your new wingman, kid,” he said.

“Wingman?” Robin questioned, darting her eyes at him.

Will shuffled in front of them, playing with his hands. “D-do you have someone special too?”

“Special? I don’t know what you mea-“ It didn’t take long for it to click in place. “OH! Yeah, kid, I have someone special too, let’s go have a little talk.”

A sense of relief washed over Will as he made his way back into the living room. Robin turned around at the last moment clasping a hand on his back.

“Are you sure you aren’t special?” She mocked him. “Cause your gaydar is off the charts.”

“Oh my god Robin, just go!”

With a smirk, she left to join Will. He found his way back to Dustin where he was packing away all his comic books.

“What was that all about?” he asked as Steve leaned down to join him.

“Nothing,” he responded, picking up a comic.

“Awww you couldn’t stay away from me, Stevie!”

“Shut up… and never call me Stevie again.”

Dustin chuckled as he went back to packing. There was a silence that filled the air again but it wasn’t one that Steve hated, it never was. Being in the same room with him was enough to make him feel not alone. Almost a full hour went by before Dustin spoke up again.

“Hey, so when my mom and I went to go look at the new house last week,” he started. Steve hummed for him to continue. “And that Major Video on West Dunn got turned into a Blockbuster.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s this new video-renting place that’s been popping up everywhere. It’s supposed to be better than Major Video and Family Video.”

“Cool, Henderson.”

“I just thought… you know since you have experience already, you and Robin could apply.”

Steve faltered in his tracks, almost feeling his heart shatter into a million pieces. Dustin was already thinking of a future for Steve in Fulton, one that would never happen. He couldn’t tell the kid he wasn’t going with them just yet and would never admit it to the kid, but when everyone leaves, he’ll miss him the most.

Not wanting to break the bad news to him, he replied softly, “Sure Henderson, that sounds nice.”

When it came time to leave, Steve made sure he was the first to say his goodbyes. After closing the front door behind him, he walked to his car which was strategically parked a block away. Waiting for only ten minutes, he was relieved when Max climbed in the passenger side seat.

“No one saw you?” he asked her.

Putting on her seat belt she shook her head. “Nope.”

“Great.” Putting the car in park, they took off down the road. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, but remember we have to stop to get flowers first.”

“Of course,” he said with a smile turning to look at her.

It was a friendly look that they had both become accustomed to over the past few weeks but in the end, it would be his downfall. For in turning to look at her, he missed driving past a very confused Wheeler on her way to pick up her younger brother…

🏠🏠🏠

Dinner at the Hopper-Byers house was becoming more and more regular as time went on. He loved spending time with them, but always making sure it was in the form of helping them pack their house up. If he went over there just to hang out with Jonathan…it would just be more painful for the both of them when they left.

So any chance to stay for dinner after helping them move, he took it. Eleven had even warmed up to him too in the past weeks. She was more open to speaking with him, even asking for help reading once or twice. Steve was elated at that. Someone went to him for learning advice - he never thought he’d see the day.

On one particular night, he surprised himself with how little he cared Nancy was there. Of course, he knew running into her or the occasional dinner would happen but he always braced himself for that awkward tension to return. He was surprised when it didn’t.

She stood next to him, washing dishes while the Byers continued to clear the table. “You seem different,” she said suddenly. When he asked how she replied, “I don’t know, just different…I never thought you and Jonathan would become friends.”

“To be honest, I didn’t expect it either. But he’s a good guy so…”

She handed him another plate to dry off. “Are you going to apply to schools again once everyone’s settled in Fulton? Or are you gonna find a new job in town?”

“I definitely won’t be applying to any schools,” he answered, trying to move around the question of Fulton. “Don’t think college is the right call for me.”

Before Nancy could protest like she always did when it came to his education, Hopper walked into the room. “Here’s those leftovers kid,” he said, handing him a container of food.

“Thanks,” he replied taking it. “I’ll bring the Tupperware back when we’re done.”

“Nonsense, just keep it.”

Smiling, he paid his goodbyes to Nancy, leaving to go thank Joyce for dinner in the other room. She tried to reach out and talk to him, to ask him the question that had been burning on her mind, but he was out the door before she could.

“We’re?” she whispered to herself confused.

🏠🏠🏠

Opening the front door to his house, Steve called out to Max. “I’ve got dinner!”

He watched as she shot up from her place on the couch watching Family Ties on the tv. “Did Ms. Byers make her spaghetti again?”

Nodding, he grabbed a fork from the kitchen, sat down next to her, and handed over the container. “With the shredded cheese.”

“Awesome!” she exclaimed, taking a bite of the food.

Even though it had been almost a full month of living together, they were still hesitant to tell people about their situation. Everyone still thought they were moving too, starting their lives a couple of towns away like the rest of them. Max was very persistent to keep that a secret, even from Lucas whom she was getting closer to again by the day.

Steve was happy that she was finally opening up about other areas of her life. Every time she talked about Sinclair he felt this urge to protect her, to go tell the kid that if he didn’t anything wrong, he wouldn’t live to see the next day. She jokingly called him her big brother wanting to watch over her every move. After she said that it was hard to not see her as the sibling he always wanted.

“El keeps asking me if we’re going to be neighbors in Fulton,” Max said, setting down the now empty container on the coffee table. “It’s getting harder to lie to her.”

Steve shifted on the couch to look at her more clearly. “We both agreed it was best not to say anything. If they knew we weren’t coming it would turn into this big thing and-“

“-I’m not disagreeing,” she interrupted him. “If Lucas knew I wasn’t coming with everyone…”

“Oh no, do I need to go grab the bat?” he joked.

Rolling her eyes, she slapped his arm. “Shut up… I was just thinking. Once school starts up again, I could get a job too. Maybe with both of us working, we could move there by the time I graduate.”

She looked over at him with pleading eyes which wasn’t something she did often. Even though he was technically her guardian now, she never saw him as the man in charge. They were equals or he was an easy pushover. But when she asked about moving, it looked genuine. She actually wanted to hear what he had to say for his approval.

Smiling, he wrapped an arm around her. “Sounds like a plan, Mayfield.”

As they went back to watch the television, there was a sudden knock on the door. They looked at each other confused, Steve getting up to investigate who it could be.

He pulled the door open, surprised to see Jonathan and Nancy standing in front of him. “Hey guys,” he said hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

Jonathan leaned forward, “Nancy said she saw something and wouldn’t leave me alone until she came to investigate.”

“I’m not investigating!” she scolded him. “You make it sound like I’m writing for the paper.” Turning back, she addressed Steve. “We want to know where Max is.”

Steve tried to stay calm, to keep his face from contorting in a way that would give away anything. But on the inside, he was freaking out, hyperventilating. Was everything going to come crashing down this easily? On a regular Tuesday in July?

“M-max? Why would I know where Max is?”

“I saw you leave with her from Dustin’s a few weeks ago.”

Curse Nancy for being so perceptive. “I don’t know what you’re getting at Nance-“

“-I thought it was strange so, I went to the trailer park and her mom said she hadn’t seen her in weeks. Then, earlier tonight when Jim gave you those leftovers you said you’ll give it back when we’re done. Not you, but we.”

Steve felt panic rise through him. It caught him off guard, having not felt completely alone since Max came to stay with him. Why was she so observant? Why did she have to notice?

Nancy crossed her arms. “I can’t believe it took me this long to piece it together.”

Jonathan put a hand on her shoulder. “We’re sorry to interrupt you like this,” he said. “We just care about her and-“

“-No, it’s okay, I just…” Steve interrupted, not knowing what to say or do or how to counteract any of the very true things she was saying.

Before he had time to speak, Nancy pushed passed him and into his house. “Nancy!” Jonathan called out, surprised at the slightly rude interaction.

The two boys ran after her inside, but it was too late. Nancy was already standing in the living room, staring in confusion at Max Mayfield on his couch. She turned back to him.

“You don’t know where she is?” she asked again in a disappointed tone.

“What did you want me to say?” He complained with a shrug. “That Max has been living with me for a month because her mom is an alcoholic?”

She walked over to the couch sitting down to give Max a hug. Pulling apart, she addressed Steve again. “I just wanted to know she was safe.” She looked back at Max. “You are safe, right?”

Max smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I am… I finally see what Dustin says about Steve being a mom now.”

“Hey!” He protested.

“Wait,” Jonathan called out, turning in circles in the living room. “Where are all your boxes? The moving people come next week”

Oh great. Another explanation and Steve knew that this one wouldn’t end well. He looked at Max who was frozen too, unsure of what to do.

Slowly he said, “We’re not moving from Hawkins.”

Nancy’s hands dropped back to her sides as she stood up from the couch. “What do you mean you aren’t moving from Hawkins?” She asked, not wanting what he said to be true.

“We’re not moving. Between money and Max’s mom-“

“That’s bullshit,” Jonathan said. “N-no just look where we’re standing. You can’t seriously tell me this is about money!”

In the calmest voice he could muster, Steve turned to Max. “Do you wanna go to your room, Max?”

“No,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m old enough I’m staying-“

“Max!” He shouted. It freaked her out for a second, never hearing him scream like that before. “Just give us a few minutes, okay?”

She nodded without saying a word, grabbing her blanket before going upstairs to what used to be the master suite.

Steve turned back to Jonathan and Nancy. “I don’t have a lot of money guys, let alone enough to move to a new town.”

“I-don’t get it,” said Jonathan. “I mean you’re a Harrington, look at this house I mean-” He motioned around the room. It was nice, Steve had to give him that, definitely nicer than the Byers' house in the woods. But it wasn’t a rich house, just a shell of what used to hold an upper-middle-class family. “Didn't your parents try looking in Fulton?”

He scoffed. “I haven’t seen my parents since I was 15.”

“What?”

“My parent; they left on some business trip when I was a sophomore and never came back. I get these checks every month from them but it’s not enough to support a new life with Max in some other city. Staying here is our best bet for now. Maybe in a couple of years, we can move but-“

“-No, Steve,” Nancy butted in. He looked up at her to see watery eyes and that look, the look he tried so desperately long to prevent. “You haven’t seen your parents since you were 15?”

He nodded, not wanting to speak. If he spoke, he knew the floodgates would open. And Steve was done crying over people who definitely weren’t crying over him.

“That was before I even met you,” she said softly letting his words sink in.

“I know Nance…”

Jonathan said, “Let me talk to my mom or Hopper maybe they can-“

“-no, it’s okay Jonathan.”

“Let me ask them if-“

“Jonathan!” he yelled. The couple stood in silence, trying to put together a plan in their heads. “You don’t need to do anything. We’ll still see you guys, maybe not as frequently but…”

“Fulton is over an hour away,” Nancy said.

She didn’t need to say more, those words being enough to convey what they all knew what true. A couple of visits back and forth from Hawkins would soon turn into none, Steve and Max becoming a forgotten part of their childhoods.

“I know…” he said understanding. “We- Max and I - have been anticipating this for some time now. We’ve made our peace with it. It’s why we didn’t want to tell you…”

The three of them stood quiet, not knowing how to move on from this point. Everything was changing and it was a lot sooner than Steve expected. He needed them to leave, he needed to think about everything and try not to sit in discomfort for too long.

“I think you guys should leave,” he said.

Jonathan was the first to protest. “No, Steve maybe if we-“

“There’s nothing you can do. Just, go back home. I need to make sure Max is okay.”

Nancy was the one who took his arm, dragging him out. He was hesitant to follow his girlfriend, not wanting to leave his new friend behind. Friend, Steve feared that would happen one day. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be Jonathan’s friend, he really did. He just knew that if they could get that close it meant leaving would be just a little harder.

Finally getting him out the front door, Steve watched as Nancy paused. She turned back to face him, her mouth opening as if she was going to say something to him. But what was there left to say? They would be leaving, he wouldn’t - it didn’t get more simple than that. She closed her mouth, taking only a moment more to stare before turning and following Jonathan to their car.

And that was that.

🏠🏠🏠

Steve’s landline was ringing off the hook. It had been a week since Nancy and Jonathan had found out the truth and if Steve heard that phone ring one more time he was going to throw it into Lover’s Lake.

He had just left to use the bathroom, just one moment to himself before he heard Max calling from the kitchen.

“Steve, it’s going off again!” Groaning, he washed his hands and barged into the kitchen. Max was sitting at the counter again eating a bowl of cereal. “I don’t think that’s a telemarketer.”

“No, but I think I know who it is,” he said, making the mistake of finally picking up the phone.

He couldn’t even get a word out before the kid started screaming. “If what I just heard is true you are dead, Steve, DEAD,” Dustin said sternly.

“Henderson just-“

“This better be some sick fucking joke. It is right? You just wanted to get back to me that time I told Robin you liked Flash Dance.”

He sighed, knowing there was no stopping the endless amount of curses being shouted at him. “Dustin just listen, okay? We would move if we could but that isn’t an option-“

“Bullshit! That is total utter bullshit. You can’t leave, especially after Ed-….” He paused and it didn’t take rocket science to know he was missing his Dungeon Master.

“You can’t Steve,” he continued, his voice growing weaker. “You just can’t.”

“I wish things were different too. But that’s not going to change our situation, okay?”

“But Ms. Byers said-“

“We’re not taking any money from Ms. Byers or Hopper, all right?”

“I’m coming over, we’re talking about this,” Dustin said urgently and Steve could hear the rustling of his shoes over the phone.

“Henderson don’t you dare show up.”

“You can’t stop me! We have to talk about this in person.”

“Dustin if you show up announced, use not moving will be the least of your problems.” Not waiting for a response, he slammed the phone down. Even with a threat, he knew nothing would stop him from coming over. Turning to Max who was still eating her breakfast, he said,” We’re going early today.”

“Okay,” she said, taking another bite of her food. It wasn’t until she realized he was still staring he meant that instant. “Now?”

“Yes, now, Henderson is gonna show up any second with a fucking militia we need to go.”

“Right, yeah.” Scrambling to place her dish in the sink, she ran upstairs to get changed.

There was still one place no one would be able to find them, or at least that’s what they thought.

🏠🏠🏠

Slamming the car doors shut, Steve and Max walked up the hill of the cemetery. They stopped at Eddie’s grave first like always, standing silently in respect. Steve kept his head low like he always did, talking in his head like Munson could hear.

He didn’t believe in a god. No god would have let this much bad shit happen to one group of people. But if there was something out there, a god or an afterlife, he hoped Eddie could hear him. He hoped he could hear how much regret he had for not treating him better, for not making an effort to be his friend.

As he silently paid his respects, he could feel Max tugging at his arm. He opened his eyes to look at her but she wasn’t looking back at him, instead of their shoulders in the distance. Turning, he searched for where she was staring, not taking long to find what it was.

Across the hill, next to Billy Hargrove’s grave, stood Joyce Byers and Jim Hopper. Steve felt his body turn to look at them, Max grabbing onto his arm. There was no avoiding them, no turning away or running. Facing this head-on was the only option and part of him was terrified, and Max read him like a fucking book.

“You ready?” Max asked a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“We have no other choice do we?” he asked back.

Walking to them felt painfully slow. His mind was moving a hundred miles a minute. How does he explain this to them? How does he not feel the pity he can already see on their faces? Approaching, Max slowly bent down, putting the dragon lilies on her brother’s grave before returning to his side.

“Hey kids,” Hoper said crossing his arms. “You’ve been pretty hard to get a hold of.”

“How did you know we would be here?” he asked.

“Sinclair is really easy to crack once you put a little pressure on him.”

“Shit,” Max whispered to herself before turning to Steve. “I may have told Lucas that I bring flowers to Billy’s grave sometimes… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he reassured her before turning back to the adults. “We’re fine guys, really.”

“We’re gonna go for a ride,” Joyce said as she began to walk back to their car.

Hopper followed her, stopping only for a second when he realized they weren’t following. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he said more sternly.

That made them move. Steve never wanted to be on Hopper’s bad side ever again. Loading into the back of the car, he and Max exchanged a look. Where were they going? Back to the Harrington House? To the Byers? No, they were driving too long by that point to be anywhere they knew.

Hopper kept his eyes on the road while Joyce turned back to ask them a question. “Why didn’t you two say something?”

“Talking about it wasn’t going to change anything,” Max said, keeping her gate out the window. “We didn’t need your pity.”

“Ms. Byers, you guys were already stressed about moving already we didn’t need to add more fuel to the flame. You needed to focus on your family.”

“You two are family,” she said. “From the moment we all go involved in that mess.” She turned back to Hopper. “Get off here, sweetie.”

He pulled the car off the freeway and onto a suburban road and it didn’t take long to figure out where they were going. A sign reading Welcome to Fulton passed Steve’s window as they pulled down a neighborhood street. It wasn’t pristine, houses were still being built and renovated for the sudden influx of residents.

Max tugged his shoulder. “Why are we here?” she asked in a whisper.

“I have no idea,” Steve responded.

He watched as they turned suddenly into a driveway, a Sold sign on the mailbox. It was a nice house, nicer than anything the Byers or Hopper had owned before. Was this some sick game they were playing? Showing them the place they were all moving, where they would be when they forgot they existed?

Hopper was the first to get out of the car, pulling open the back doors to let him and Max out. Wearily, he climbed out of the car, stretching from the long ride.

“What is this, Hopper?” he asked. Was this some sick joke they were playing? Showing them the neighborhood they weren’t moving to. To show them a glimpse of the life they wouldn’t be a part of? “Why did you bring us here?”

“Just follow us, kid,” he replied, ushering them into the house.

As they entered the foyer, Steve couldn’t help but turn in awe. The place was already furnished, the stuff from their old house already moved in here. “When did you guys move in? We were supposed to help you in a couple of days.”

“We had some help,” Joyce said, placing a hand on his back. “We wanna show you two something upstairs.”

“Would you mind telling us what it is?” Max asked, following everyone up the steps.

“It’s better if we just showed you.”

As they reached the top of the stairs, Hopper already stood holding a door open. Steve stood outside the door, not really knowing what to do. He looked back at Max, standing outside another door on the other side of the hall that Joyce had opened.

“Look inside,” said Joyce.

And so he did. Steve walked into the room. It was pretty bare, with only a dresser, and bed inside.

“I-I don’t get it…” Steve said, looking back at Hopper. “What is this?”

“This,” he began, “- is your new room. That one is Max’s.”

Steve walked back towards the door to see Max across the hall, looking equally confused. She sat down on the bed, taking in her surroundings.

Joyce said, “We figured you guys had some stuff at home you want here but once your stuff is moved in, we can go out and get more decorations. Make it feel more like home.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked her. “I- this is crazy.”

“We want you two to live with us.”

Joyce walked over to Steve who still stood frozen in the doorway. Was he hearing them correctly? Joyce and Hopper wanted them to live with them. In Fulton? He didn’t know how to feel. It would be rude to accept, right? To put the stress of two more bodies to feed, to help grow up. She placed her hands on both of his shoulders, willing him to look at her - he did.

“I- these rooms-“ he tried to get out but Hopper beat him to speaking.

“They were supposed to be an office and guest room but whom are we kidding, they would never get used.”

“We want you two,” Joyce said, willing his attention back to her. She reached out a hand to Max which she took, pulling her closer. “End of story. No more pitying yourself okay?”

“But-“ Steve tried to start but it was useless.

He felt a hand on his back as Hopper approached. “No buts,” he said. “We want you here, both of you.”

Steve looked down at Max by his side. She was on the verge of tears and that was saying something. He rarely saw Max cry even after her mom abandoned her, he never saw her shed a single tear.

“So, what do you say guys?” she asked.

He could feel his eyes watering now. They wanted him to live with them. They wanted him. He tried to control his emotions, failing too as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. Harrington’s don’t cry, not when their parents leave, not when their friends are ditching town, not now…

Okay fuck it, maybe they do.

It was like a damn had opened, letting out all the pent-up rage and sadness that had plagued him since he was 15. Nodding his head was all they needed to embrace in a tight hug. He felt Max hit him first, then Joyce, and finally Hopper - his family.

🏠🏠🏠

The ride back to Hawkins felt a lot lighter than the trip before. He couldn’t stop smiling, Max bumping shoulders with him as she thought about a bright future for the first time in a while. He heard the excitement in her voice as she talked about being at school with her friends, with Lucas whom Steve was convinced would be her boyfriend again any day now.

As they pulled back into the driveway of his house, he wasn’t surprised to see that there were a handful of cars already parked on the curb. All of their friends stood by the door, waiting for them to come back, confirmation that Joyce and Jim had told them of their plan.

They barely took a step outside the car before there were people pulling them into a hug. He felt Robin first, his nose getting tangled in her messy hair.

“You are an idiot, you know that?” she said, stifling back a cry.

“Yeah, what else is new?”

Pulling back, he watched as Max was pulled into a hug by her friends. He saw Lucas holding her tight, as well as Eleven; getting a pat on the back from Will and Mike. But where was Dustin? He wouldn’t miss this he-

Smack!

“Ow!” Steve shrieked, turning to see the kid in question holding up a rolled-up piece of paper.

“What the fuck Harrington!” Dustin yelled at him.

He didn’t even have time to react as he was pulled into a hug. Shocked, he looked over at Robin who only rolled her eyes.

“What did you expect?” she mouthed to him.

Dustin broke away, waving the paper in his face. “Never do that again! You need to tell me everything! That was what we agreed on when we became friends!”

“When did we-“

“And no talking over me!” He shoved the paper forward to Steve who took it. Crossing his arms, he added, “here.”

Confused, Steve began to unroll the paper he was smacked with just moments before. “What’s this?”

“You’re resume. I already applied for you to work at Blockbuster.”

He couldn’t help but cackle. Of course, the kid had.

“We have an interview next Wednesday,” Robin added.

Steve smiled and he couldn’t help but pull both of them into a hug again. He felt his eyes start watering again. When did he become so emotional? Peering over his shoulder, he made eye contact with Max who was still getting her ear talked off by her friends. She nodded to him with a smile, enough for them to both know everything was going to be okay.

All right, maybe letting others into his life wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

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wakaran-art · 1 year

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I'm writing a steve Harrington fan fic and I just wanna say everyone needs to ready themselves for the absolute misery you'll feel after reading 8,000 words of saddest Steve Harrington character study you will ever read. To be honest it's all because I began reading A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara again and got inspired by how she writes sorrow and interpersonal conflicts so delicately and nuanced. It's sort of indulgent really (with how it relates to my own life) but I don't want it to end up being sad for sad's sake, rather something personal to Steve's character and sincerely gentle; I myself finding a comfort in being able to grasp the realities that haunt me.

That being said I'm proud of what I've written so far :D (4,875 words) So far I've only really gotten the exposition finished but the plot that follows shouldn't be too much longer (⁠-⁠_⁠-⁠;⁠)

#that image is definitely not a really important scene in the fic #im sorry stevey boy those brothers made you a much happier man #a little life #steve harrington #stranger things #fanfic #hurt/comfort #hurt #hanya yanagihara #to paradise #sad stories #jonathan byers #nancy stranger things

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librathefangirl · 2 years

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Warm Hands

The last thing Steve remembers before it turns black is white hot blinding pain. His name being screamed. Cold ground and warm hands. And the sound of gunfire.

The first thing he notices as he wakes is an insistent beeping. His body feeling simultaneously numb and like it’s been run over by a truck. Warm hands. And soft mumblings.

(Stoncy Week 2022, Day 1)

Written for Stoncy Week 2022, Day 1: Patching Up/Post-Fight OR AND Fake Dating AU.

I couldn’t decide between the two, so I combined them, sort of. But mostly the first one.

The last thing Steve remembers before it turns black is white hot blinding pain. His name being screamed. Cold ground and warm hands. And the sound of gunfire.

The first thing he notices as he wakes is an insistent beeping. His body feeling simultaneously numb and like it’s been run over by a truck. Warm hands. And soft mumblings.

As he opens his eyes, he sees Nancy sitting beside his bed – hospital bed? that’s not good – running her hand gently through his hair. She’s speaking quietly, words he can’t quite make out, but she’s not looking at him. A sigh pulls his attention to his other side. Jonathan’s there. His hands wrapped around Steve’s own, thumb making soothing circles on his skin.

Jonathan freezes as he meets Steve’s gaze. A half-choked gasp leaving his lips.

They both look like shit, Steve notes. Hair completes messes. Eyes red and puffy. And is that dirt or blood specks on Jonathan’s shirt?

“Steve!” Nancy’s other hand cups Steve’s cheek and turns his head towards her. “Hi.”

Nancy’s eyes are wet.

“Hey...” Steve mumbles. It feels like his brain can’t quite connect the pieces. They’re both watching him like they think he’ll break while looking like they’re about to break themselves.

“Jesus,” Jonathan then breathes out, leaning back in his chair. One hand remains tightly wrapped around Steve’s. It’s warm. Secure.

“Yeah,” Nancy agrees in a similar manner. She removes her hand from his cheek and Steve almost asks her to put it back. Almost. His brain is finally starting to catch up.

“What... happened?” Nancy and Jonathan share an uneasy look at his question.

“What do you remember?” she asks instead. Steve tries to think back. It’s all a little muddy.

“Uhm... monster?” It comes out more like a question than an answer. “Did we get it?”

“Yes, it’s gone now. For good,” Jonathan says, a hard look in his eyes.

They got the monster. But... Steve’s in the hospital. That’s not good.

“I got swiped?”

The look Nancy gives him is almost a glare, “That’s a big fucking understatement.”

Steve flounders. Did he do something wrong?

Jonathan’s gaze softens as he uses his free hand to lift up the blanket. Steve blinks at the sight underneath. His chest is almost completely covered in bandages. Yeah. Not good.

“Oh.”

Jonathan places the blanket back down. His hand gently gracing over Steve’s chest. Jonathan gives him a warm smile. Nancy still looks angry.

Steve gives her an uncertain look, and she sighs, “You scared the shit out of us, Steve.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, just- Don’t do it again,” Jonathan says and Steve smiles.

“Not making any promises.”

“Of course you won’t,” Nancy scoffs half-heartedly. “Next time, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I’ll remember that,” Steve replies, slightly scared. A pissed off Nancy is no joking matter. He looks around the room. “So... hospital?”

“For about,” Jonathan glances at the clock on the wall, “20 hours now. Shit, I should go.”

Steve grips his hand tighter as Jonathan tries to let go. Nancy squeezes his shoulder in comfort as she sees it.

“We’re not actually supposed to be here,” Jonathan explains.

“What do you mean?”

“Only family is allowed,” Nancy says with a shrug. They are his family. Not by hospital rules probably, but still. His family.

“So how’d you get in?”

“Nancy told them she was your fiancé,” Jonathan tells him. Nancy kisses the surprised look of Steve’s face before he has the chance to dwell on that.

“And then I snuck Jonathan in,” she then adds.

“Just had to make sure you were alright.” Jonathan leans in a kisses him. Then he stands up, pulling his hand from Steve’s. “But I need to go before the nurse finds me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gives Nancy a kiss before disappearing out the door. She makes no move to leave.

“You’re staying?”

“I’ve killed monsters. I doubt a nurse can do much worse.”

Steve huffs a small laugh. His eyes starting to get heavy again.

“Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#stoncy week 2022 #stoncyweek2022 #stoncy #i'm so late #but i wrote something #first stranger things fic #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #stranger things #hurt/comfort #fics #libra writes #day 1 #forgot to tag that oops #stranger things fic #stoncy fic

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okaybutlikeimagine · 2 years

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A Father’s Day Triptych; P2

(Wrote a very late part 2 to A Father’s Day Triptych! this time following Jonathan’s past)

(as always, on AO3 here)

TW: past/referenced child abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, child neglect

Father’s day in the Byers household was dreary and exhausting.

It was probably always that way. Jonathan sometimes imagines there could have been a few pleasant years in there when he was a baby- back when he was far too young to remember anything and Will wasn’t even a thought in anyone’s minds. He only wishes he could have fully experienced them, if they ever existed to begin with. The only memories that he’s logged away are ones of stress and struggle. Ones that are loud and grating. Ones that are colored gray and black.

The first one he even remembers was the year Will was born, and how upset he felt at all the yelling still going on, even with the new baby in the house. He spent most of the day in his room, cradling Will while he heard his parents going at each other’s throats through the thin walls. Jonathan decided then to always do his best to make it okay for Will, at the very least. He’s spent every waking day in an attempt to make things okay for Will.

It was always near Father’s Day that Jonathan really understood the poor excuse for a father he had. He remembers the year in elementary school where they spent their last few days before summer break with craft paper and markers, set to draw up fun cards in honor of their fathers. He heard every story about fishing trips and “bring your kid to work” days and major league baseball games. Kids would boast about large barbecues and days in the sun. It became a one-up-manship contest at one point. Jonathan just sat and wore out his blue crayon.

And maybe it was that year that he believed those things could actually be true. That kids weren’t just lying to make themselves look cool- that they actually had fathers who cared… maybe even listened once in a while. It was kind of like the opposite of being told Santa Claus isn’t real, but perhaps a bit more heart-wrenching. It was like being told Santa Claus is real, and he’s every bit as magical as they say he is, but he’ll never come visit you.

Jonathan biked home from school that day and almost convinced himself that it could be real for him, by some sort of miracle. That Lonnie wasn’t really horrible all of the time, maybe Jonathan was just doing something wrong. He filled himself up with fanciful ideas of becoming a better son so he, too, could deserve one of those “good fathers”. He almost had a whole plan set… and he was about halfway home when his head was full of all the times Lonnie had muttered “useless” at him for stupid things- like how he flinched at the sound of guns. Dropped the tool box multiple times. Couldn’t even catch a football.

And Lonnie was always cruel and insufferable, but it got exponentially worse on days where he felt owed something. Father’s day, his birthday, hell sometimes even just random days off. He’d kick up his feet on the coffee table and loudly demand to be served. Joyce would spend all day delivering food, beer, newspapers, magazines… Lonnie would demand it all with an expectant smirk on his face that’d turn sour when he didn’t get what he wanted. He pouted like a child- more often than Will ever did. And when Joyce got too tired, Jonathan quickly took up the task, even if it was at Joyce’s behest. He was only a child, it was all he could do to help her.

He’d face the disgusting smirk himself, as much as it made him queasy to look at. He was always a scrawny kid, so he’d try not to recoil at the way Lonnie clapped him on the shoulder with a bit too much force. It was like the man was trying to assert dominance. Or like he was trying to break Jonathan beneath his hands while crowing about how it was “for his own good”. If Jonathan reacted too much, Lonnie would just grip tighter. Sometimes he’d whip Jonathan into a headlock, deeming it “tough love” as he’d grab at Jonathan’s hair and pull. Always pushed Jonathan in a means to provoke him- wrestle and rough him up a bit and cackle as he did it. He’d try to get him to fight back. “Toughen him up” and teach him “valuable lessons”.

Jonathan just did his best to keep it away from Will. Whenever he could, if he ever saw Lonnie veer in Will’s direction with that gruff chuckle and that glint in his eye, Jonathan would push between them in an instant.

When Lonnie was finally out of the picture things got… stilted around Father’s day. Awkward. Fumbling. Joyce tried her hardest to make the day feel as normal as possible. Jonathan was used to it, but it was still hard for Will. He was still in elementary school. One year they did something in class to help celebrate. Jonathan remembered the way it felt to be so… isolated. He watched Will come home and slink off to his room, tears welling up in his eyes. He held Will tight that night and chastised him for ever blaming himself as the reason for what happened. Jonathan found himself still cursing Lonnie just as much as he did while the bastard was still in their home.

It never got less awkward. Every Father’s Day since then felt odd. It was never like something was missing… more like something was suddenly intruding on them all. And Jonathan only gave himself a few moments to despair the sinking feeling before putting on a brave face to soothe an anxious Will and Joyce.

…

Father’s day in the Byers-Hopper household was awkward…but somehow in a very caring and sweet way.

Jonathan had known Hop for a long time before they started to share a roof. He briefly remembers being a toddler and meeting Hop a couple times on the street. The odd, confusing pride he felt in being called a “handsome young boy” and Joyce smiling tightly and their exchanges being short. Remembers a few years after that when Jim rolled back into town on a wave of rumors about death and tragedy- when whispers followed him like ghosts. There was a fine line everyone seemed to toe back then… between their respect of him as Chief and their disgust of him as a drug addict and a drunkard.

Jonathan always thought of small moments when he thought of Hop… moments like when they crossed paths at the Hawkins 4th of July parade and Hop handed him a lollipop. Or the time they caught sight of Hop at the fair and the Chief had given Will a Sheriff’s badge sticker to wear on his shirt and deemed him the newest deputy and made Will giggle like crazy. Even back when he always seemed sad, he was sweet- so suddenly having him around didn’t feel as gross or stifling as he once thought it might. The only sourness Jonathan ever felt was that anyone outside would ever think, even for a second, that Joyce hadn’t done a good enough job on her own. Just her and her two boys. That she and Jonathan didn’t give it their damnedest- that they needed someone around to help because they couldn’t hold it together. It wasn’t like that. Joyce was a good mother- the best mother.

Still, he did appreciate the extra helping hand. Well… make that a few pairs of helping hands.

The once Lone Wolf Jim Hopper didn’t come on his own anymore- no, now he was a package deal. An exhausted cop, a girl with superpowers, and a boy with burdens. It was a strange accommodation to suddenly make, but hell, even they weren’t unwanted.

Will seemed almost impossibly happy to have someone his age around all the time. Jonathan knew how cool Will thought El was, but Will couldn’t ever seem to believe when El returned the same feelings to him. She listened to every detail about his D&D character, she watched in fascination as he drew, she cheered him on when he played video games. She told stories to Will about the time he went missing- how all the rest of the party ever did was tell her how wonderful he was. She treated him like a hero, too. The two of them became an excitable dynamic duo to be reckoned with.

And Billy made Jonathan… tentative, at first. Though as the days went by, Jonathan was suddenly hard pressed to remember when they ever interacted at all before living together. As soon as they got to talking, Jonathan realized how oddly similar they were, and suddenly a gratefulness began to overcome him. There was someone around to help buy weed, and someone to smoke it with. Billy seemed to know a lot more about different strains than Jonathan, something Billy attributed to being from California, so he showed Jonathan which strains to steer clear of so Jonathan wouldn’t ache to crawl out of his own skin. It was also nice to talk with someone about music who got it… who craved it as much as he did, even if Billy’s taste was atrocious. Billy would say the same about Jonathan.

Billy was gentle and kind with Will. El was cheerful and sweet with Jonathan. And Joyce… Joyce hadn’t looked that calm- that happy in -far too long. So regardless of anything else, it was all worth it. But what surprised Jonathan the most was how he found himself gauging Hop. Constantly.

The Chief Jim Hopper himself, who swung El around like a monkey sometimes. Who was more gentle with Billy than Jonathan could ever make sense of. Who treated Will to ice cream and candy maybe a little more often than he should have. Who gave Joyce soft kisses on the top of her head. Who smiled a hell of a lot more than Jonathan had ever seen him before. Who looked comfortable in his own skin again. Who looked confident in himself again.

Jonathan was happy for him. But that still didn’t make anything feel anywhere close to normal about having a… “father” in the house. There hadn’t been a “dad” around to celebrate in such a long time. Father’s day meant nothing to them anymore in the Byers household. Maybe they’d order some of their favorite take out that night but that was about all. So when June came around and El appeared in Jonathan’s doorway, he assumed it could be anything.

He wasn’t expecting her to yell “Father’s day!” at him in excitement.

Billy had appeared next, behind El, explaining how they usually do something for Hop. Looked at Jonathan with an expectant gaze, asked if he was going to come along. And something pulled within Jonathan at that moment- something deep and sick, like jealousy. Or maybe betrayal. Like a bitterness he didn’t know was locked away inside of him.

He joined anyway and sat in the passenger’s seat of Billy’s Camaro, El and Will in the back, while El and Billy talked about what they were looking to get for Hop from the store. What they had learned about him. What they had gotten him in the past. Jonathan pushed down the images of them celebrating Hop happily.

He hung back in their group of four. He watched Will start to get excited with El. He caught Billy’s attention somehow, on accident, and just couldn’t keep the words in his damn mouth. They stumbled out in a worried mumble: “This is weird.”

Billy was confused. Jonathan stuttered, feeling out of place again and wrong, too, for saying anything at all. Tried to keep his big feet and big mouth from stepping on any already battered toes. He couldn’t take his eyes off of all the Father’s Day decorations and cakes and balloons and cards and the way they were eating him from the inside out.

He wasn’t eloquent in the slightest. He stuttered over how he and Will hadn’t had a father in a very long time. Not one to celebrate. The whole time he spoke he was keenly aware of Billy and the reason he was now living with Hop in the first place.

Jonathan held his breath as the air between him and Billy went dead and wavered in the awkward silence, before Billy spoke up in a tone Jonathan couldn’t make sense of.

“It is weird.”

Jonathan was shocked. “Yeah?”

“It keeps being weird.” Billy nodded. He was solemn. He was staring, unseeingly, in front of him as they walked. “Not bad. Weird though.”

Once again, Jonathan was grateful.

Father’s Day was the very next day. Jonathan was content to let it just be a Billy and El thing, but it wasn’t- Joyce joined in readily. Will didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. They all four presented Hop with burgers and pie and attention all while Jonathan stood in the back and felt like an asshole for it. He turned down the offer of a slice of pie. He ignored the records and the card games and the laughter. He felt like a ghoul slinking away to the dark corners of his room.

He liked Hop… he knew he did. He had talked to Billy about him before Joyce and Hop decided to make things official, when it was clear that they were going to become one big weird family. He had asked what Billy thought of Hop, as if he didn’t know the man at all. As if Jim Hopper was a stranger to him. Billy had stuttered and stumbled and used the words “a good dad” and tore right through Jonathan’s heart.

Jonathan laid on his bed, unsure if the staticky feelings in his joints were bitterness or exhaustion or even just… early onset arthritis? He debated putting a tape into his stereo. His limbs had no strength within them. He sighed and thought of the past and wished it didn’t have a grip on him.

A knock came at the door. Jim Hopper walked in.

And Jonathan stared as Hopper spat a flurry of niceties his way, trying his damnedest to say… something. Jonathan wasn’t too sure what exactly. He blinked as Hop spoke circles around himself. Before-

Hop heaved a big sigh.

“Listen to me.” Hop heaved out as if Jonathan had even said a word since Hop walked in. “You and your brother… you kids are a couple of… the best kids ever. I don’t think kids get better than you two. Really you’re… you’re such good kids and you deserve… you deserve.”

Jonathan waited in the silence and thought about being called a “kid” while Hop began to try again.

“I’m sorry. I really shouldn’t be saying this to you but… your old man… he was an asshole.”

And Jonathan huffed out a chuckle- couldn’t keep it inside him. Hop barely seemed to notice.

“A real prick. I never liked that guy, and I just don’t know how you two grew up to be- no, I do. It was your mother. Your father just didn’t know what he had. He never noticed anything good even when it was two inches in front of him.”

Jonathan stared at Hop. Watched how Hop messed nervously with his hair and his collar and the buttons on his shirt.

“He always was a screw up but he screwed up big time when he screwed up here with you two. With you three. He lost something real good here. And maybe I’m the asshole for being glad for it because…”

Jonathan didn’t know where this was going… but he was figuring it out quickly. Hop pressed on.

“I’m glad to be here. Thank y-”

Hop faltered. Jonathan watched. Jonathan had no voice left in him anymore. Hop continued.

“This day is weird. I know it. Trust me. And you don’t have to… you don’t have to… anything. You don’t have to anything!”

Jonathan laughed at how weird of a statement that was. Hop forced himself to continue on.

“I just… don’t know what I’m trying to say. But I’m not… taking it for granted… that I’m here.”

Jonathan blinked. Hop fidgeted.

“I just hope you know that.” Hop said and looked like he was 2 seconds from fleeing and Jonathan watched and couldn’t make sense of any of the swirling feelings in his stomach as he felt his voice bubble up.

“Billy was right.” is what he said. It was Hop’s turn to look speechlessly at him. Jonathan felt his heart pull. Felt everything in him confused and fighting… and something small in him felt like a bit of relief. “You’re a good dad.”

And Hop’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, with an unmistakable wetness shining in his eyes as the star on top, and Jonathan felt stupid for thinking about Santa Claus in June.

…

Father’s day in the Byers-”not quite Wheeler yet but soon” household is stilted and virtually non-existent.

Jonathan has been living in his own place for years now and he still feels like he can’t fill it up all on his own. He thought he’d be beyond ready to finally get out, but once the time came he realized how heavy his feet were. He’s got all his belongings, most of his music (the stuff he didn’t leave behind for Will), a table, a couch, a bed… and still the place feels blousy around him as he walks around it. He’ll be glad to have Nancy as permanent company soon. In a few months, when she’s finally set to move in. Now that they’ve finally both convinced each other that being together is far more worth it than being alone.

And living on his own has made Jonathan feel growing pains he thought he’d long since forgotten. Even though he’s alone, those small, random holidays don’t cease. It’d be so much easier to ignore them than to notice how hollow he feels when they pass. But, whether it be unfortunately or quite the opposite, he can’t ignore Father’s days anymore- even as they roll by in a lazy blur. That first one out of the house almost slipped past him completely, but he forced himself to call home. Call Hop, with butterflies winging at his heart. He wished him well and sent his thanks in roundabout ways that still felt cottony in his mouth. Hop fumbled over his own emotions, too, so all was well.

Then he heard that Billy and Steve decided to adopt.

He spent that whole afternoon sitting on his couch, zoning out to the television, thinking about that and what it means. When he made his monthly call to the Harrington/Hargrove residence, he asked them what it’s like. He tried to make it casual, like he was only just vaguely interested. Billy sounded tired. Suddenly there was screaming in the background. Jonathan got handed off to Steve because apparently Billy is the one that has to handle it. Again, he asked what it’s like… and this time, Jonathan could hear it. Steve Harrington and the loverboy that he is had honey in his tone. As the screaming quieted down, Steve surprisingly used the simplest words to explain what it’s like to feel the entire Earth’s joy and love in your heart.

Jonathan still felt dizzy with it after he sent his goodbyes and ended the call.

So June is here and Father’s Day rolls by quickly, as always, except this year he’s getting company. Not Nancy yet, but Billy. He’s got some work trip out near where Jonathan is at and he’s agreed to come visit.

On Father’s Day itself, Jonathan calls Hop. They do the song and dance around feelings and how much everything has meant to them. Hop says “Thank you, son.” and Jonathan has to hold his breath at that before he bursts with everything inside of him.

It’s a few days later when Billy comes by, barging into Jonathan’s apartment as soon as he gets to the door with a case of beers and a bag, asking if he can crash. Jonathan rolls his eyes as he watches Billy stake claim on the entirety of his couch. Jonathan grabs the tin of weed he left laying around for the two of them and then shoves at Billy until he moves over enough for the both of them to sit down. He hisses as Billy lays his arm around the backrest of the couch and tugs harshly at his hair, just like he always used to do around the house back home. Growing up, Jonathan never once thought about what it’d be like having an older brother. It’s crazy to think that he knows now, even if they’re only about half a year apart. It’s warmer and perhaps a bit more painful than he’d have anticipated.

They lay around and chat, the TV humming with whatever movie Billy mindlessly changed it to and the stereo in the corner tuned to a station Billy didn’t spit at. He’s always needed a good few different distractions at a time. Jonathan rolled the joint they’re sharing, not particularly fond of the way it burns his chest but knowing Billy prefers it most times. It’s nice to be with him again. He fills out a space in a way that’s all consuming, and makes Jonathan feel a little less like a pinball.

And maybe the two of them don’t really do “sentimental”, but Jonathan still feels obligated to say something since Father’s Day just passed. He feels it in his chest, clawing away at him. Plus, he’s got a bit more on his mind this time around…

He tries to make it casual. They do their usual arguing over Nirvana and Radiohead and Pantera and Jonathan quickly slips in a “congratulations”.

“Huh?” Billy grunts around the joint in his mouth. His voice has only gotten gruffer as they’ve gotten older.

“Happy Father’s day-” Jonathan tries again before getting cut off.

“You’re late to the game, champ.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes, grabbing the joint quickly when Billy offers it up.

“Alright, then I take it back.”

“Good.” Billy’s still got a grin like a shark, but it’s softened a bit with the years added to his face. Billy stretches out long like a bored cat on his seat on the couch. “I expect two next year, though.”

“You’re an asshole.” Jonathan chuckles and yet groans simultaneously- a sound he’s mastered with Billy’s presence in his life.

“And you’re wrong about Pantera, listen to me-”

Jonathan lets it all slide. They continue to just talk, catch up on life, continue jokes they’ve had running since they were teenagers. Jonathan brings out more weed because he originally thought Billy was going to have to drive back to a hotel tonight. Billy burns through a couple of beers and laughs at the way Jonathan still winces at the taste- can barely finish half a can. Billy says “was gonna ask you if there’s something fun to do around the city but I think I’d rather stay in. Can’t believe the kid has made me boring-” over their Chinese take-out that they’ve ordered because “I’ve been craving this shit for months. The little tyke refuses to touch the stuff and we’re sick of making separate chicken nuggets for him.”

And Jonathan thinks he’s going to snap in half.

He can’t handle himself. He’s falling into too many thoughts that are eating away at everything inside of him and he can’t put words to any of them but he has to try now that Billy is here. Now that Billy keeps bringing him up, can’t seem to get the kid off of his mind either. Can’t help but mumble about how appreciative he is to watch a gory movie again because “we’ve gotta be mindful of the little buster, so we don’t scar him for life or something” and Jonathan is filled to the brim with everything he wants to say.

“So…” He starts, lamely. Billy looks over to him, chow mein hanging from his mouth still, eyes expectant and suddenly Jonathan loses every word he’s ever known. “Uh… babies?”

Billy slurps up the chow mein noodle.

“Uh… yeah?” Billy says, just as lamely, confusion painting his face. “What about them?”

Jonathan somehow didn’t think he’d be able to get this far. “What’s it… like?”

Billy stares. He blinks. Then he barks out a loud, booming laugh- and Jonathan might be dramatic, but he could swear it shakes his apartment.

“What are you talking about, Jonny?” Billy looks at him like he’s got at least three heads on his shoulders and if Jonathan wasn’t so sure he’d lose in a heartbeat, he might try to wrestle Billy off the couch.

“Your kid! Your… and… babies... and-”

“Is it the weed?” Billy asks, about a step away from sounding genuinely concerned. “Am I witnessing the day Jonathan Byers actually can’t handle his weed?”

“You’re never going to stop being a pain, are you?” Jonathan grunts, reaching for his cider that he opted for after giving up on the beer Billy brought.

Billy laughs at him, like he always does, but it’s never as poisonous as it seems. “And you’re never gonna stop being embarrassing! Now, what are you saying to me? Are you getting baby fever or something?”

There’s a pause and… yeah, maybe Jonathan never thought of it like that but… maybe? He looks at Billy with wide eyes, very sure that his face is betraying him by showcasing just how scared he is to be having this conversation.

Billy’s eyes widen too, with realization and understanding. “Oh my god, you totally are.”

Jonathan wants more than anything to be able to deny it, but there’s no way to. He suddenly feels like maybe hiding his face is better.

“It’s not… like that-” He tries and fails, face suddenly burning and Billy is laughing that loud, obnoxious laugh again as he knocks into Jonathan’s shoulder and sends bits of food flying out of his container. “I just…”

“Just what? You been cooing over babies in the street, buddy?” Billy is cooing at him, talking to him like he’s a kid and Jonathan truly is going to find some way to injure him.

“Shut up, I’m just asking… what’s it like?”

“What, having a baby?”

“Yeah.” Jonathan wants to busy himself with food like Billy is, but suddenly he feels he can’t stomach it.

“Wouldn’t know, dude.”

“What’s that mean?” Jonathan asks, about ready to shake Billy senseless. “You’ve got a kid-”

“Yeah, and he was a toddler already when we got him. I don’t know about babies.” Billy emphasizes, giving a little shrug along with it as he shovels more food into his mouth. Jonathan had forgotten about that part… he supposes that’s right. “What are you asking me for, anyway? Aren’t you the one that’s been an older brother like… forever?”

Jonathan huffs at that.

“You’re an older brother too, y’know.”

“Yeah, I got Max when she was like, seven!” Billy clarifies loudly. He sounds incredulous, with a look to match as he turns to Jonathan. “And El when she was, what, 12? Will when he was like 13 then you when you were fucking seventeen, I don’t know what the hell you think I know about babies.”

Jonathan takes a big swig from his cider, head aching from having to have this conversation. He should have just kept this to himself… he just…

“I was just asking. I’m just… and Will isn’t my-” He’s not sure how to say it. How to get the words out to where they make sense. “He’s not… I’m not...”

They live and die inside of him.

Billy is still looking at him, but far too intently now. Jonathan can feel his gaze on the side of his face.

“I mean, he kind of is, right?” Billy starts, voice suddenly too soft for Jonathan to be able to think straight. He says it like he knew what Jonathan was thinking about- knew what Jonathan couldn’t say. Jonathan hates when that happens. “Weren’t you… always kind of like… the dad? In all that?”

And Jonathan thinks he might just break, hearing that. Sometimes he forgets how much Billy knows. He’s not sure what he’s meant to say to that. He can’t say he never thought about it that way when he was 12 and cooking meals for all 3 of them. When he tried one summer to get a job out of town- biked himself all the way out of Hawkins to the first place he could lie to about being old enough to work. Because his mom didn’t want him to yet so he couldn’t stay in town where everyone either knew him or knew his mother. All those years he changed diapers and bottle fed Will and taught him his ABC’s or read to him before bed.

Is that what fatherhood is?

Jonathan doesn’t like to count those years, because if he does then he just gets sad. He doesn’t like to count those as parenting because then he’s forced to realize how much of his childhood was lost on him. Lost to that. He doesn’t like to think of it that way, he loves Will more than anything in his life and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but…

“Honestly,” Billy sounds so quiet still. Jonathan is amazed at how quiet Billy can get. “I thought you’d never want kids after all that.”

Jonathan thought so too. He wasn’t ready to feel this way.

They sit in silence for a while. Jonathan tries to speak again but Billy cuts him off by shoving a container of food at him and just grunting out a commanding “Eat.”

Jonathan takes it. Stabs his fork through the container without really eating. Billy groans at him.

“God, quit playing with your food? You’re worse than my kid.”

Jonathan’s heart feels like it wants to tug out of him. He concedes to eat, and they do so with virtual silence between them- only the white noise of the TV and the radio and the street underneath them as their background.

Jonathan gets more than halfway through his takeout container before he tries again.

“Why?” He asks, like it means anything. Billy just raises an eyebrow at him. “Why did you decide to have kids?”

Billy pauses- seems to take the time to really think. “... because we wanted to up the difficulty in our life?” is what he ends up saying and Jonathan can’t hold in his scoff. “I don’t know.” Billy finishes with uncertainty and a bit of a laugh.

“I just… can’t think of any reason for me to be a father that doesn’t feel so fucking selfish.” Jonathan forces it out of himself, already feeling self-important just for mentioning it.

He just hasn’t been able to make sense of it. He’s been wrestling with it for too long now- this sudden want in him to have kids.

He spent most of his life dedicated to a kid. He’s almost grown a hatred for being in charge, which is why he loves how sure Nancy seems to be of everything. She can take the reins, and he feels a sense of calm at not always having to drive the helm. But… maybe baby fever is the right word? He sees lots of kids on the street here with their parents. Kids smiling and laughing. He passes by a school on his walk to work and watches them get dropped off. The joy in their faces. He remembers being a kid. Remembers what it was like, to feel all those pains of growing up. Figuring out the world, for all the good and bad that lies within it. He remembers feeling pain, and seeing it in Will’s face, too.

He remembers how hard it was to be a kid in his situation. When he heard Billy and Steve were adopting, he thought about what those two were doing for that kid. What they meant to that kid. He thought about Hop…

“Not that you two are selfish!” Jonathan remedies quickly, realizing exactly what he just said. “You’re literally the exact opposite of selfish. You’re helping that boy… way more than I think you even realize.”

He almost envies it sometimes. For as exhausting as it was to do all he did, he almost misses helping out around the house. Helping his mother and helping Will. Sometimes, being here and all alone, he realizes how little he’s really doing. He misses being helpful… but then he wonders if perhaps he just misses feeling useful. He wants to do right by somebody, but does he just want to feel good? He doesn’t want to use another human life just to reassure himself. And he’d loathe to bring a child into this world just to test out if it’s some grand calling and then find himself feeling burdened. He doesn’t want to put a kid in the position of feeling like a burden.

He thinks about how they’ve adopted. How many kids there are out there who weren’t fortunate enough to have someone willing or able to care for them.

“I dunno, should I do that too?” He wonders out loud, mind stuck on adoption. “I don’t think I care if they look like me. Should I care if they look like me?”

Billy shrugs, brows a little furrowed. “I don’t think so, but aren’t normal people supposed to get like… revved up for that sort of thing?”

“Weird word choice there, pal.” Jonathan scrunches his nose up.

“You know what I mean.”

Jonathan guesses he does. He thinks of Nancy, because truthfully he’s not alone in this. He thinks of the way Nancy has always vehemently rebelled against what everyone expects of her. She always said she doesn’t want the nuclear family her parents forced upon themselves. He knows the struggles she’s had with all of that. And she would hold Jonathan sometimes too, on days where his anxiety would peak, and tell him that he didn’t have to put so much on his shoulders. He didn’t have to worry about the weight of everyone’s lives like that.

But maybe he wants to worry about something? Maybe he misses it, maybe he wants to help, maybe-

“Do you think it’d be easier to get Nancy to agree to that?” He’s still wondering aloud, still thinking of adoption. “It’d probably piss off her parents, and I bet she’d be happy about that… and should I think about my own mom? Does she want grandkids-”

“Joyce is just happy when she hears you’ve left the house.”

“Ha ha.” Jonathan deadpans as Billy chuckles. “I just… I don’t care if they come from me. I think I just want to help a little kid who was like me. Help someone feel understood-”

“Oh yeah, real selfish.” Billy scoffs, crunching on his fortune cookie, the paper inside discarded on the table along with the wrapper.

Jonathan sputters. “I’m serious! Is it- am I being-?”

“C’mon, Jonny boy.” Billy levels with him, looking about ready to slap Jonathan out of it if given even half the chance to. “You don’t know selfish. You’ve never known selfish a day in your life.”

And maybe that breaks Jonathan’s heart, too. He can’t think about that either.

“Well…” Jonathan tries, one final time, to get anything out of this other than an aching stomach. “What is it like for you?”

Billy blinks harshly at him. Jonathan presses on.

“I know this is hard for you, too.” Jonathan explains, trying to be understanding. “You’re like me, Billy. We both know that.”

And Jonathan hopes that Billy has aged enough to the point that he won’t run from this. That he won’t get too scared that he bolts away, excusing himself for something he doesn’t need just to evade feelings, like Jonathan always wants to do, too. They really are far too much alike-

“It’s… weird, man. It’s weird. It doesn’t stop… being weird.”

Jonathan remembers being teenagers. Remembers confiding in Billy. Remembers the chill of the grocery store. He tries to keep his chuckles quiet and to himself as Billy continues.

“Honestly, I don’t even feel like a dad yet.”

“What are you talking about? You are a dad-”

“Yeah, but people see our kid and he doesn’t look like us and they… people are idiots about it. Plus sometimes it feels like we didn’t even raise him. Or like we’re just playing house.”

Jonathan watches Billy rise and fall inside his own mind. He wonders if he should try to console him.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m messing him up every time I open my mouth.”

Jonathan remembers feeling like that with Will. The first time he ever made Will cry. Back when he was going through his awkward teenage phase and he had to push all his own emotions down to be a good role model. It hurt. It was far too difficult.

“I’m sure you’re not.” Jonathan tries to console, scooching just a millimeter closer to Billy. “I’m sure the worst you’re doing is exposing him to shitty music.”

That makes Billy laugh, but it also earns Jonathan a rough shove and a promise of “I’ll end, you, Jonny.”

“I dunno, all of it is hard.” Billy continues on with a sigh. He’s rubbing his palms together, and then anxiously picking at his jeans like he always did growing up. “He’s like a little puzzle we haven’t figured out yet. But I never question if it was worth it or not. And when he smiles, and I’m the reason… I don’t think there’s anything better than that.”

And Jonathan gets a front row seat to watch the smile that melts onto Billy’s face- like all is right with the world suddenly. Like there’s nothing that could ever taint what he’s feeling right at this moment. Jonathan thinks about how casually Billy mentions his son, even at what seems to be the most random times, and how much it plays with his heart.

Jonathan sees Billy relax in a way he’s not sure he’s ever seen before, and he thinks maybe he’s ready to figure out for himself exactly what a father is.

#jonathan byers #billy hargrove #jim hopper #lonnie byers #found family #stranger things #angst #emotional hurt comfort #fic #father's day #i know people don't necessarily like jonathan...#but this is where i come out not only as a jonathan apologist but a jonathan lover #no i don't support EVERYTHING he's done but we know better than most that the duffers are creepy idiots #who used their characters to relive high school (not so) glory days #i see a sad boy who loves his family more than anything and had to give up a lot of his childhood bc he felt he had to support them #that's it! that's all no more defending myself lmao!#i just also really like Billy and Jonathan being unlikely friends and brothers now <3 #they are BOTH my boys!#i dunno!!! just think about a young Jonathan interacting with Hop <3 #it's cute I love the byers I just!!! wanna squish em!!!!!!

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elevenmayfieldz · 2 months

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endless wip girl (me) just published smth and its not elmax for once *the crowd is howling* anyway anyway ummmmm its a baby willel fic and u can read it here!!!

#stranger things #el hopper #will byers #jonathan byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #willel #fanfiction #fanfics #fics #willel fics #angst #angst writing #family #byers family #hopper byers family #found family #hurt/comfort #this one is. idk but i feel it

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andvys · 9 months

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I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss | part 3

Warnings: angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of sex, mentions of cheating, mentions of emotional abuse (Chrissy’s mom), absent parent, daddy issues, jealousy. Billy being Billy… it’s not what you think

Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader , Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler

Summary: Someone you don't want to see shows up at your doorsteps.

Word count: 6.7k

Note: @mysticmunson thank you for helping me as always, you're the best! @somethingvicked thank you for the idea with Billy, it's working perfectly for this story

series masterlist

Steve had been so on edge ever since he found out about you and Billy. He knows that Tommy and Carol aren’t the most honest people. They strive off of chaos, they live for the drama and the lies and constantly make up new things to gossip about but for some reason, he believes their words this time. Billy had been following you around ever since he broke up with you– he had been running after you for some time now but never like this. You always rejected him, you were taken and not interested but now Steve can’t help but wonder, were you truly not interested or were you just rejecting him because you were with him? Were you secretly into Billy all this time? The thought of it makes him feel sick.

He sits in his car, bouncing his knee as he stares out the window, waiting for his girlfriend. The parking lot is filled with students, he hears laughter and different voices. He sees Billy walking towards his car, the usual smug and arrogant look resting on his face. He straightens up, looking around to see if you’re around too, wanting to see if you will get in the car with him. What will he do if you do get into his car?

“Hey!”

Nancy’s voice startles him a little, he tears his eyes away from the blue camaro and turns to look at his girlfriend.

“Hey Nance,” he smiles. He instantly leans closer to her once she’s seated, she meets him halfway, kissing him on the lips. Her eyes are closed, his are open and they flash with curiosity when he sees you through his window. You look his way and it’s enough for him to tense up.

He expects you to get into Billy’s car but instead you go the other way, you pass by his car and look straight ahead, pretending to not see him or her. He breaks the kiss, Nancy doesn’t seem to mind, she leans back and puts the seatbelt on as she begins to talk about her project. Steve hums and nods along, turning his head to see where you are going.

Are you going to Heather’s car? To Chrissy’s car? It turns out to be neither of those, instead you leave the parking lot and walk into the direction of the football field. Where are you going?

“I figured that we could rent a movie tomorrow since we can’t hang out tonight,” Nancy says, “I really wanna get it done. It’s been nice to hang out with Jonathan again though, we should all go out together sometime!”

“Sure,” Steve mumbles and turns back to her when he no longer sees you.

Her brows are raised and a confused smile is on her lips, “were you even listening?”

He nods, “yeah, you want me to hang out with Byers,” he says with an eye roll.

“Hey,” Nancy mumbles, hitting his arm, “he’s nice, you just gotta get to know him.”

“Sure,” he chuckles, running his fingers through his hair, “nice.”

Nancy shakes her head at him, raising her arm, she pulls down the sun visor and flips open the small mirror, a piece of paper that was tucked into it falls into her lap. Her brows knit together as she looks down at it. She picks it up, it’s just a simple brown paper that was ripped out of a notebook, she turns it around. Annoyance bubbles inside of her when she sees the writing on the note. It’s not much but it’s from you, it’s not signed but she recognizes your handwriting and the little heart, only you draw it like that.

I love you

She presses her lips together and glances over at Steve who is staring into blank space.

How long has the note been here? Does he even know that it existed?

“Here,” Nancy mumbles and throws it into his lap.

Steve glances at her first, brows furrowed and lips parted, he notices the annoyed look on her face. He looks down at the note in his lap. Oh.

“I didn’t know you still kept her things.”

Steve blinks as he stares at your handwriting. You drew a little heart next to your I love you. He swallows harshly. The weird feeling in his chest returns yet again. He didn’t even know the note was there– you did things like that all the time, leaving little notes everywhere for him to find. He kept them all.

“I don’t,” he lies as he puts the note in his pocket after folding it, “I didn’t even know it was there. I’ll throw it away later.”

Nancy nods, eyeing him from the side. She doesn’t like the way he folded the paper so neatly. He should’ve crumpled it up and thrown it out the window.

“Okay.”

The scented candles in your room are lit, making the air smell like pumpkin spice and cinnamon. The light of your salt lamp makes everything appear softer, you never use the big light in your room, you hate it. The police’s every breath you take is playing in the background.

“Are you going to the winter formal?” Chrissy asks as she flips to the next page of her new fashion magazine. You are both laying on your bed, the decoration pillows all over the floor. You look at the pretty dresses in the magazine. You would be wearing one of those next Friday if Steve wasn’t such a cheating asshole.

“Nope.”

She glances at you with a sad look in her eyes, “we could go together.”

You give her a small smile as you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you say, “I don’t feel like going anyway, he’s gonna be there with her.”

She sighs, her lips are set in a frown, “you know, I never liked him. As much as I hate to say it, I’m not surprised about his actions but Nancy?” She mumbles, “who would’ve thought that she’s such a.. bitch.”

“Yeah, looks deceive, huh?”

“Totally.”

You told your friends about what Nancy said in the girls bathroom when she didn’t know that you were there.

“She looks like one of those church girls.”

A surprised laugh leaves your lips, “a church girl?”

“Yeah, she wears those ugly long skirts and those preppy blouses that my mom forces me to wear when we go to church on Sunday’s,” she mumbles, rolling her eyes.

“Is she a church girl?” You ask.

She snorts and shakes her head, “I don’t think so, I’ve never seen her around.”

You nod.

She flips to the next page, eying all the dresses before her eyes land on the ugliest one, a giggle falling from her lips, she points at it with her pink nails, “looks like something she would wear.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“And that’s why she won’t ever be prom queen, that’ll be you,” you say, expecting to see a smile on her face but instead it falls and a frown settles in her features.

“It’s not prom yet,” she mumbles, “and I don’t really wanna be the queen to some asshole’s king.”

Raising your brows, you tilt your head as you look at her. Cupping your cheek, you lean your elbow on the pillow beneath you, “you mean, you don’t want to be Jason Carver’s queen?”

A look of disgust crosses her features and she shudders at the mention of his name.

“Mom forces me to go with him,” she says, looking like she’s ready to break down out of frustration, “I don’t want to go with him.”

Your gaze softens, you place your hand on her back, “then don’t go with him.”

She keeps her eyes locked on the magazine, “you know how my mom is, I can’t just not go, she’ll make my life a living hell if I don’t do what she says.”

You never liked Chrissy’s mother, she was always horrible to her. Always pushing her to do and be ‘better’, forcing her to associate herself with people who already climbed up the social ladder, like Jason Carver.

You sigh, wishing you could help her.

“What if you just stop doing what she wants you to do?” You shrug.

She sighs and opens her mouth to speak but you cut her off, holding your hand up, you sit up on your knees, “I know, I know, easier said than done but–” you pause, looking around your room, you eye the freshly washed and ironed cheerleader uniform, the cassettes in the little box on your floor, bands that are his favorites, singers that your friends love so much, you stare at the baby pink wallpaper and the colorful clothes in your messy closet– you should’ve closed the door, the sight of the mess makes you want to groan in annoyance.

“But?” Chrissy mumbles as she waits for you to continue.

You blink, tearing your eyes away from all the things in your room that you didn’t come to like on your own. You look back at your best friend.

“If you do things for others, if you do things because they want you to do them or because they expect you to do them, because they like those things– you will end up feeling miserable at some point, you will lose yourself and one day you’re gonna realize that you don’t even know yourself, that you don’t even know what you like, what you truly want or… who you even are..”

She lets your words sink in. For a moment it’s silent between the two of you. You look down at your hands while she stares at you. Sadness and realization crossing her features. You are trying to help, she knows it but you are also realizing something about yourself, she can tell by the lost look in your eyes.

“I know that things would be tense if you just started going against her stupid rules or wishes but you can always come to me if things get tough at home,” you say, reaching out to take her hand, “I’m here and you know my mom won’t mind you staying with us.”

Her eyes light up at your words, a smile tugs at her lips, she turns her hand around and squeezes yours, “you’re the best, you know that right?” She whispers.

You smile at her words, you tilt your head, “no, I’m not.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes, “yes, you are.”

“Says who?” You chuckle.

“I do,” she says, proudly.

“Oh,” you smirk, leaning closer to her, you don’t notice the way her eyes widen or the way her cheeks flush a little red, “you do, huh?”

She blinks, her lips part and she stares at your face. Your face hovers over hers for a second before you lay back down on your bed and reach for the bat shaped pillow, the one you excitedly bought for your ‘halloween’ decoration, hugging it to your chest, you stare up at the ceiling, not noticing her stare or her tense body.

“A-Are you sure you don’t wanna come to the winter formal?” She asks again.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

She looks down at her hands, “okay,” she frowns.

“Hey,” you whisper, glancing at her, “you’ll still have fun.”

“With Jason?” She mumbles, rolling her eyes, “I doubt that.”

“You can still go with someone else. If your mom is gonna act like a bitch, I’ll kick her ass for you.”

A giggle falls from her lips and she shakes her head as she looks at you with a smile on her face.

Rolling on your side, you prop your head up on your hand. Curiosity sparks inside of you.

“Who did you really want to go with?” You ask, “I know there is someone.” You notice the blush on her face and it only deepens the longer you stare at her.

“Oh uh–” she chuckles nervously, “n-no one, I just, I don’t wanna go with Jason.”

“Are you sure about that?”

She nods.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know that, right?”

“I-I’m not.”

“Good, we’re best friends, we tell each other everything, right?”

“Yeah,” she whispers and gives you a smile that doesn’t really reach her eyes. “I’m gonna go now, I still have to study for the math test tomorrow,” she groans.

“Oh.. yeah,” you mumble, trying to hide the disappointed look on your face. You hate being by yourself, there’s too much going on in your mind when you’re all alone in this house– you used to love it but ever since he left, it’s just been hard. “I gotta start working on the assignment.”

Chrissy rolls her eyes just the way she did when you told her about who you got partnered up with.

“You know, you could still take Billy up on that offer.”

You snort at her words, “I don’t think we need Billy to kick his ass, Heather will do.”

“Did you know that she accidentally bumped into him at Nick’s party last weekend? He was holding a drink and it got all over Nancy,” she giggles.

Your eyes widen, you can’t even fight the grin off your face, “no way?” You gasp.

“Yes way,” she laughs as she reaches for her backpack, “he got all pissed and looked like he was ready to fight but when he saw Heather, he got all quiet– he even looked scared.”

“He should be,” you chuckle.

“And Nancy got all hysterical and ran off.”

You snort, “she deserved it.”

“She deserves worse for what she did– they both do,” she sighs.

She never liked Steve, even before you started dating him, she couldn’t stand him. His presence annoyed her and more so when you two got together and she had to watch how he continuously messed with your feelings.

“Yeah well, I don’t care anymore, I’m moving on…”

She knows that there is no truth behind your words, you are not moving on. You still love him, she thinks that you always will. You always looked at him like he was the only light in your life, like he was the one who hung every star in the dark sky, it made her hate him even more because he never looked at you like that.

“I’ll walk you to the door–”

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles, “you don’t have to.” She walks towards you and pulls you into a hug, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” She squeezes you tightly before she lets go, giving you another smile.

“Yeah, still gotta help you pick out the right shoes for your dress,” you say.

She nods, “and maybe I’ll manage to convince you to come, after all,” she says as she pulls away and begins to walk out of your room, “I’d rather go with you than Jason,” she says quickly before she turns around and leaves the room, saying ‘bye’ in a sing song voice.

You chuckle and throw your head back against the pillow.

“Jason Carver,” you mumble in disgust. Not a single person could ever force you to go to the winter formal with him but Chrissy’s mother is the epitome of an evil witch, you know that she will make her life more miserable if she doesn’t do as she says. You understand why Chrissy would rather suffer through the night with him than risk a fight with her mother.

Not even five minutes after she left, the doorbell rings. Looking around the room, you try to see if she forgot something, that’s what usually happens when she leaves, she rushes back in a few minutes later because she left her keys or something else. Sighing, you push roll out of bed and rush out of the room.

The doorbell rings again.

“I’m coming!” You call out, “since when are you so impatient..”

Your socks are a little slippery on the hardwood floor, careful not to fall, you hold onto the railing as you hurry down the stairs. Grabbing the doorknob, you are already smiling in amusement, “let me guess, you forgot–” with your words caught in your throat and your smile falling quicker than ever, you only manage to stare at him in confusion.

There he is, Steve Harrington, standing on your front porch with his hands in his pocket and an unreadable expression on his face. What does he want?

Even though it was him who came here to see you, he stands frozen in place. He stares at you and you stare at him. You are both frozen, time stops, everything stops moving, right now, it’s just the two of you in this world.

It’s the first time you look at him again, properly. All the sadness, all the pain and the longing comes creeping back. It was there all this time, hidden beneath all the anger but it was easier to deal with it when you started pretending like he didn’t exist anymore, when you forced yourself not to look at him anymore, when you threw all his things away, when you let go of him. How dare he show up here?

Steve watches the way your eyes flash with confusion, anger and sadness, they soften for a split second. This is the first time you actually look at him again. This is the first time you are forced to acknowledge his presence again. A feeling he can only describe as relief rushes through him when you finally look into his eyes again.

It feels like forever that you look at each other when in reality only a minute passed since you opened the door. You blink and take a step back, rolling your eyes, you go to shut the door without wanting to hear an explanation as to why he is here– “no.” Is all you say before slamming the door in his face but he is quicker than you, he always was. He places his palm on the door, stopping you from closing it, “wait–”

“Get lost, Harrington.”

He sighs, he didn’t expect anything else from you.

You try to close the door again but he doesn’t let you, keeping his palm pressed against the wooden door, he stares at you with a stubborn look on his face. God, you want to punch him.

“What do you want?” You ask as you finally give up and let go of the door, you cross your arms over your chest and take a step back, not looking into his eyes. You raise your brows and glare at him when he invites himself into your house, he shuts the door behind him. You shake your head in disbelief.

He is wearing the stupid flannel that you used to love so much, the one you always stole from him– does it still smell like you?

“We have to work on the assignment together.”

Is he serious?

“I told you, I’ll do it myself,” you snap at him before you turn around and make your way into the kitchen in hopes that he will leave but instead, he follows you into the kitchen.

“We’re partners, it wouldn’t be fair to let you do all the work by yourself.”

You clench your jaw at his words, how ironic of him to say that. Turning the light on in the kitchen, you walk towards the fridge and open it, distracting yourself from his presence by staring at all the food and drinks.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m used to doing all the work myself, my previous partner wasn’t much of a help,” you murmur, “in any way.”

Steve scoffs at your words, though he looks down in embarrassment, knowing exactly what things you are talking about. He places his hands on his hips and glances at you through his lashes, he eyes you for a moment before he speaks up, “listen, I-I wanna do better in school and I really want to work on this assignment.”

You close your eyes, shaking your head, you take a deep breath. Why did he have to sit next to you today?

“Since when do you care about being better in school?” You ask in annoyance, reaching for a water bottle, you close the fridge again and turn around to face him. He breaks eye contact the moment you raise your brows in question.

He shrugs, “I wanna graduate next year and Mr. Higgins said that I–”

“Don’t care,” you interrupt him and sigh of boredom.

He looks a little taken aback, furrowing his brows, he stares at you for a moment as he presses his lips back together. When he came here, he didn’t expect you to be so.. mean. Steve only ever knew you as the sweet girl, not once did you treat him badly in all the years he has known you. You never gave him the cold shoulder, not even when he deserved it. You were always kind, gentle and forgiving.

Heartbreak changes a person but not like this, right? What happened in those two months ever since he left?

While Steve tries to figure you out. You try to figure out how to handle this situation.

Should you curse him out and kick him out of your house and show him how hurt you still are? Should you really give him that satisfaction? Or should you pretend to be okay, give him the cold shoulder that you should’ve given him years ago and act like you are fine with this, with working with him?

You opt for the latter. You don’t want him to see the power he still has over you. You don’t want him to see how much you still want him.

You can feel his eyes on you, burning into you, it makes your skin crawl.

You take deep breaths before you look back up at him.

“Don’t you have better things to do on a Thursday night?” You scoff. You know damn well that he never worked on homeworks or assignments when he was still with you, he had ‘better’ things to do. You were the one that did all these things for him.

“Can we just work on this?” He sighs.

You roll your eyes and shrug, “yeah.”

Surprise flashes in his eyes, he didn’t think that it would be that easy to convince you to work with him. For weeks, you wouldn’t even look at him, you wouldn’t even glance into his direction. He figured that it was because of how hurt you were after the breakup but now he begins to doubt that that is why you stopped acknowledging him.

“Come on then,” you mumble as you make your way out of the kitchen, brushing past him. He nods, looking down at the floor, he turns around and follows you into the hallway, turning the light off on the way out.

It feels weird to be back in your house, it feels so familiar yet so… strange. There isn’t much in your room that has changed since the last time he had been in here– only the lack of his things is noticeable to him. The bottle of his cologne that used to be on your dresses is gone and so are the collection of polaroids. He frowns, a weird feeling tugs at his heart. You got rid of everything. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He looks around the room that haunts his dreams– a piece of clothing that neither belongs to you or him is draped over the chair by your desk. It’s a black denim jacket. Clenching his jaw, he wonders if it belongs to Billy. The thought of you wearing his clothes, of you being with him makes him so.. angry.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” You mumble without looking back at him. You are already back on your bed with your notebook in your lap. He stares at you, the moment feels too familiar. He remembers climbing up to your window one night, he wanted to surprise you with flowers. You were sitting on your bed just like you do now but instead of the notebook you had a magazine on your lap and you were wearing pajamas. You looked so cute.

“We gotta settle on a topic,” you say and raise your head to look at him.

Steve’s brows are still furrowed, he still stares at you. He feels confused, irritated and a little hurt. You seem so.. okay. You look at him and talk to him as though nothing ever happened. Are you okay without him? Are you happier without him?

He blinks, snapping himself out of his thoughts, he walks towards your desk, he pulls out the chair and sits down.

“Yeah.. what do you wanna write about?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, we could totally write an essay about snakes, there’s one in my room, right now.”

His lips part and his face scrunches up in confusion, it takes him a moment to realize what you mean. His shoulders slump and he scoffs, “very funny.”

“I know,” you smirk.

“We could write about basketball–”

Your scoff cuts him off, causing him to roll his eyes.

“Or about cheerleading–”

“Are you crazy?”

“I think you know more about cheerleading than I do, you were the one who convinced me to do it after all,” you say, tilting your head at him, “remember?”

He leans back in the chair, spreading his legs, he nods at your words and clenches his jaw, “yeah..”

There is so much tension in your room, his presence makes you angry.

After the initial shock subsided and the sadness turned into anger, you began to curse him for what he did, especially when you found out that he had kissed her while he was still with you. That is something you will never forgive him, the lies and the cheating.

The anger makes you feel stronger, it keeps the sadness away, for the most part, at least.

“How about we do something more classy– although, you don’t do classy, so…”

Steve rolls his eyes at your words, “not like you do it either,” he mumbles.

You snort, not showing him the anger or the annoyance that you are feeling right now. You tilt your head and stare at him in question.

“I mean, given that you fucked Billy Hargrove out of all people,” he says with a looks of distaste on his face.

What?

You almost laugh in his face but you hold yourself back.

He eyes your expression slowly, waiting for a reaction. He expects you to scoff, to look caught, to look embarrassed, to blush or to deny it all– just the way you always denied your attraction to Billy every time he brought it up but he gets nothing from you. Absolutely nothing and it only fuels his anger even more. The burning in his chest and stomach worsens when you look at him with a straight face.

You look at him for a while, not moving, not saying anything, he can’t even read the look on your face. After a while, you sigh and look down at your notebook, “so how about we write an essay about Romeo and Juliet?” You ask, “you know, since it’s the only book you actually ever touched.”

His brows knit together, his cheeks grow red, “are you not gonna say anything?”

His irrational anger amuses you a little but you don’t show it.

You look at him through hooded eyes, not raising your head, “I just did?”

He rolls his eyes and stands up, walking towards you, “I mean about Billy.”

“What about him?”

“Did you sleep with him?” He asks.

His eyes flash with desperation. He wants to know, he needs to know.

How ironic it is to see him beg for an answer when he has no right to even get one. He never gave you the truth so why should you? You are not his anymore.

His eyes are pleading. Why does he want to know? Why does he even care? He has the girl he truly loves, why should it matter what you do or who you do it with?

“So, I’m not sure if you remember the story but in Romeo and Juliet, there’s obviously that tragic ending so–”

“Y/n,” he sighs.

You close your mouth and glare at him, you used to love hearing him say your name, now you hate it.

“Would you rather write an essay about Billy Hargrove?” You ask calmly, giving him a fake smile.

“No,” he rolls his eyes.

“Good, cause I don’t either.”

He runs his fingers through his hair and huffs in frustration, closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We could write about pride and prejudice.”

You lift your chin and look at him in surprise. You used to reread that book all the time, he knows it’s your favorite– he used to steal it out of your hands, reading some of Mr.Darcy’s lines in a mocking way, back then it made you laugh.

“You didn’t even read it,” you murmur.

“I can read it now,” he shrugs, “you still have it, right?”

“We got a week to finish the essay, Steve. It’ll take you days to even finish and understand that book so don’t even bother–”

“No,” he says stubbornly, “I want to.”

You throw your hands up, “why?”

‘Cause you wanted to choose the book for your next essay, you told him that weeks before.. her. ‘Cause you love it so much– or used to love it.

He doesn’t look at you, he stares at the ground and shrugs, “just let me do it, please,” he says, “I can get started on the essay while reading it.”

You try to figure him out. Why is this so important to him? He used to make fun of that book, of you reading so much. He would laugh whenever you offered to read it for him and now he suddenly wants to read it himself?

Sighing, you get up and walk towards your bookshelf. You bend down and reach for the book before you turn back to face him.

It feels weird to see him back in your room– a place he spent so many nights in, a place he used to kiss you in, a place he used to touch you in.

“Here.”

You hold it out to him, keeping distance between the two of you as though you are scared to come near him. His fingertips brush yours when he takes the book from you, warmth spreads across his skin and he finds himself looking at your face.

You quickly pull your hand back and cross your arms over your chest, avoiding his eyes, “well, you should probably get started then,” you mumble, nudging your chin into the direction of your door, subtly kicking him out.

“Yeah,” he breathes and looks back down, eying the cover of your beloved book, “what are you doing tomorrow night?”

Just leave, please. You think to yourself.

“Why?”

“Well, we could start working on it tomorrow,” he offers.

“Yeah sure.” You don’t want to work with him, you don’t want to see him but agreeing to it will get him out of your house sooner, “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.”

You can feel his eyes on you, he is staring and it makes you want to both scream and cry. Leave, just leave.

“I’ll get going.” He steps away, taking one last look at you before he turns around, “good night, y/n.”

You don’t say anything back, you stay silent, refusing to even look at him. You don’t notice the way he halts in his tracks when his eyes fall on the picture on your wall, the only one left of him. Steve knows that you didn’t keep it up because of him but it still makes something inside of him burn. There’s no other reminders of him left, only this one. You could have cut him out but you didn’t, you kept him there. His eyes soften and he glances at you. You are still standing there in the same spot, with your arms crossed and your gaze stuck to the floor. The urge to– no. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to leave.

Your fingernails dig into your arms, you bite your lip as you feel the tears welling up in your eyes. The lump in your throat begins to grow. Why did he show up? You hear him walking down the stairs and it feels like forever until he reaches the door. The sob begins to threaten to escape.

You slowly make your way towards your bedroom door, shutting it quietly. You press your back against it and look up at the ceiling. Tears roll down your cheeks the minute you let your guard down.

“I hate you, Steve Harrington.”

Cold water dribbles down on him, making goosebumps rise up on his skin, he shivers at the feeling but sighs in content when he feels himself getting more energized again. Basketball practice tired him more than usual but that was probably because he stayed up all night, reading pride and prejudice. To his surprise, he ended up liking it more than he thought. Though he can’t stand Darcy for some reason.

Another thing that kept him up was you. Your indifference, your lack of emotions, the anger and the sadness he had seen in your eyes the last time you had looked at him was gone. There is nothing in your eyes now, just simply nothing. It shouldn’t bother him, in fact, it should make him feel relieved to know that you are not hurting anymore but somehow it hurts him to know that you just don’t care anymore.

He didn’t love you but you loved him, at least that’s what he always believed.

Did you realize that you never loved him either?

“What’s wrong, Harrington? Did you realize that you’re a shit player?”

He can’t even help but sigh in annoyance. His jaw clenches and so do his fists. He waited until everyone was done showering, not feeling like interacting with anyone, he didn’t know that Billy was still around, if he knew, he would’ve been the first in the shower.

He opens his eyes and glares at him.

Billy looks at him with a smirk on his face, he turns the water on and closes his eyes as he steps under the stream.

Steve decides to ignore him, turning his head away from him, he reaches for his shampoo with shaky hands. Just the presence of Billy is enough for him to shake out of anger. He hates him so much.

��Heard you were at y/n’s house last night.”

At that, Steve tenses up. How and why does he know? He keeps his eyes down as he begins to wash his hair.

“Yeah, so?”

Billy chuckles, taking a moment to reply.

“What were you doing there?”

“How’s that any of your business?” Steve mumbles in annoyance.

Billy shrugs, narrowing his eyes at him, “when assholes like you go to their ex-girlfriends house it’s usually to fuck,” he says, smirking.

Steve shakes his head, “we’re working on an essay together.”

“Mhm.”

To his surprise, Billy keeps quiet for the remaining time. Steve quickly finishes up and leaves the shower after wrapping a towel around his waist, wanting to escape him as quickly as he can.

Steve can’t stand to be in the same room as him for longer than a minute, he always felt that way about him but especially after hearing those rumors about you and Billy from Tommy and Carol. It still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Back in the locker room, he scrunches his face up in disgust, it smells like sweat, too much deodorant and cologne in here. No one is around anymore, everyone has already left.

Steve reaches for his dirty clothes and stuffs them into his duffle bag before he starts getting dressed. He puts on a pair of boxers and his jeans and reaches for his belt when Billy walks back in.

Steve’s jaw feels tense from all the clenching but he can’t stop it. Every time he sees him, he thinks of you and him together. He thinks of you being touched by him, of you being kissed by him, of you being– god, he can’t stand it. He can’t stand the thought of you being touched by Billy Hargrove or any other man for that matter.

He knows that there is a huge chance that you aren’t with him or with anyone else but he can’t be too sure.

“Did you fuck her?”

Billy smirks when the question finally tumbles out of Steve’s mouth, he knows that he has been dying to ask. He stays silent and puts his clothes on instead, taking his time with it.

Steve puts his sweater over his head and turns around to face Billy, who is already staring at him smugly as he dries his hair with the white towel.

Steve’s nostrils flare and he feels like throwing a punch at him already, he clenches his fists, fingernails digging into his palms.

“Why are you asking a question that you already know the answer to?” Billy smirks.

He stiffens a little, gritting his teeth and fighting the urge to do what he so badly wants to do.

“I don’t know the answer, that’s why I’m asking.”

“Why do you want to know?” Billy chuckles as he tilts his head to the side, he throws the towel back on the bench and puts his white tank top on, “you dumped her.”

Billy walks towards him slowly, he looks confident, he always does. He looks directly into his eyes, the smugness remaining on his face.

“Let me tell you something.”

Steve drops his arms to his sides and puffs out his chest, raising his chin slightly. His heartbeat quickens, not out of fear but out of anticipation.

“When you came to school with your new little plaything, she left. I found her behind the school, she was crying.”

Nothing good will come out of his mouth next, Steve already knows it. The thought of you crying over him does little to mend the anger in his chest.

“Wanna know what I did?” Billy asks, raising his brows. He licks his lips and grins a little as he steps closer.

Steve nudges his chin up.

“I took her home and I fucked her so hard that she forgot that you ever existed. In fact, I think a good fuck was all it needed,” Billy chuckles darkly as he looks him up and down, “‘cause you clearly never fucked her good enough.”

Steve is seething, burning and trembling with anger. The smirk on the blond’s face is only fueling his anger.

“Now I’m not the only one,” Billy smirks at the angry look on Steve’s face. His cheeks are red, the brown in his eyes vanished completely, all there is now is blackness. He is not just angry, he is in rage and Billy is loving it. “A little birdie told me that she’s been sneaking around with one of the stoners, so..” Billy laughs, turning around with satisfaction in his eyes.

Steve doesn’t know whether to throw a punch, to scream at him or at himself for feeling this way. He wants to throw up at the thought of you fucking Billy, of you sneaking around with some loser.

Billy grabs his stuff, he puts on his brown leather jacket. He can sense Steve’s anger and it makes him feel more satisfied than ever.

“Let me tell you a little secret, Steve. Girls like her, the ones who get left behind by their daddies, they’re a little damaged but they keep going. They still got a little hope left, but the moment they get their heart broken by some asshole they fall in love with, they’re damaged beyond repair. Even if you come crawling back to her and she ends up being stupid enough to take your sorry ass back, she will never be the same again. You crushed her poor little heart.”

Steve is breathing heavily, his knuckles are white from how hard he is clenching his fist. He would love nothing more than to finally throw that punch but he holds himself back, knowing that it will only make things even worse.

Billy slaps his hand on Steve’s shoulder, narrowing his eyes, he chuckles, “loosen up, King Steve, go and get your little geek. I’ll take care of y/n, I think she’s better off with me anyways. At least she feels something when I fuck her.”

And with that, Billy leaves him standing, knowing the damage he caused, it leaves him more satisfied than ever, to know that he messed with him— to know what it takes to mess with him.

next part

only tagging friends!

@mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @corrodedseraphine @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can @imjuststeddietrashatthispoint @sherrylyn628

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things angst

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sheisjoeschateau · 3 months

Text

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts. Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts. Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying. ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair. You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze. Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other.

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy. Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway. It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught.

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers. "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously. Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night. Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy. Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug.

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures.

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

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