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the-au-thor · 2 months

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A la Velocidad de la Luz (at the Speed of light) PART II | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Second part for this story, and yes, you should read it first

Word Count: 11.6 k

TW: Read here!

"I think you're young," your new psychiatrist spoke. "And you need a different dose of sleeping pills. But I also believe you shouldn't depend on them for too long," she said after starting to write on her prescription pad. "I'll give you a monthly prescription, then you'll come to see me, and depending on how you're doing, we'll see if we continue with the same dose or lower it. The next time you see your therapist, you can ask to teach you some insomnia management exercises. You need to tackle this at its roots and not just put a Band-Aid over it," she looked at you seriously. "You must understand that what happened to you before is something you can't control, but this you can," she handed you the prescription sheet and smiled. "See you next month, and I hope you can get some rest."

You tucked the prescription into your purse and stood up from the chair with a smile, thanking her and saying goodbye.

Your usual psychiatrist, Dr. Orwell, was on vacation, and the first few weeks back at the clinic were fully booked. You had no choice but to call Owen and get a good contact in Indianapolis for a reliable psychiatrist. The truth was, you weren't as bad as you were a few weeks before Steve Harrington's intervention.

Steve.

It was strange what was happening with Steve. When you weren't with him, you missed him so much that you felt desperate and genuinely wanted to cry. When you were with him, your desperation turned into something different; you wanted to kiss him and run to a place where he would never find you. Yet, he wouldn't let you miss him or escape. He had behaved like your true personal hero; every night, right at 10pm when you took your insomnia pills, he would call your phone, and then he would start talking. He talked about his parents and how much he wished for less money and a bit more affection. He talked about Hopper and how even though he hadn't told him, he was grateful that he had believed in him and supported him. He talked about Nancy and how different he felt about her now, saying he loved her and always would but felt more ready than ever to love someone else. You wondered what kind of person he was looking for, but you never dared to ask; you told yourself it was to respect the rule that only he talked and you had to focus on sleeping, but they were just excuses. You were dying to know if you had a chance to be even a tiny blip on his radar, but you were a coward, so you supposed you would just have to live with that uncertainty.

You left the building where your new psychiatrist's office was and crossed the street halfway because you were too lazy to walk a few more steps and wait for the traffic light. When you reached the other side, you clutched your purse and walked towards the train station to go back home. You liked traveling by train; it was one of your favorite experiences. You could read a book, explore places you wouldn't on foot, and listen to your favorite songs with your headphones on without being judged; the old folks still disapproved when they saw other kids putting on their headphones and disconnecting from the world. Many said it was the end of civilization; you had witnessed the end of civilization, and it definitely wasn't because of music. If anything, music had saved you all. Maybe one day your kids would be able to walk down the street listening to music on their headphones, getting a bit away from reality without earning judgmental looks from older people.

You pressed the button on your Walkman and opened one of the books Lewis had sent in a very early annual reading list for the next semester. You definitely wouldn't fail his class if you wanted to have a future, a job, a family, and a movie adaptation of one of your books someday. You rested your forehead on the train's window and started reading while Peter Gabriel's music filtered through your headphones.

"Steve's voice to sleep?" Eddie asked, furrowing his brow, then snorted. "Well, I must admit he has a soothing tone with a moderate pitch, so I can see why it relaxes you," he shrugged, his face more relaxed, and then glanced at you as if he suddenly realized something. "Steve Harrington talked you to sleep."

You rolled your eyes.

"I thought I mentioned that."

"Yeah, I know," he set aside his guitar and then settled on the carpeted floor of Family Video. If Steve were there during Eddie's shift, he'd probably be lecturing him about responsibility, but it was a darn Tuesday morning, and everyone was at the lake, on vacation, or at the public pool, "what I mean is that he talked to you; do you know how hard it is to get Steve to talk? How long does he talk to you?"

You shrugged.

"It's not hard. And I don't know; I usually fall asleep after a few minutes."

Eddie clapped as if you were telling him juicy gossip.

"It's hard. Most of the time, Steve says three or four stupid sentences, usually to argue with Dustin, to receive Robin's teasing, or to tell me how uncomfortable he is with me getting too close to his perimeter."

You raised your eyebrows.

"Well, Eddie, you always get too close, and we like our personal space."

He nodded in agreement. "I know, and I understand, I also like your personal space," you laughed at his cheekiness, "but we're getting off track, honey, about what?"

"About what, what?" you asked back.

Impatiently, Eddie rolled his eyes.

"What does he talk about?"

You shrugged.

"I'm telling you I fall asleep within minutes, and I'll guess the things he talks about are private, and he doesn't expect me to be gossiping with the most impertinent man in Hawkins."

Now he was offended.

"I'm not the most impertinent person..."

"I said man, the most impertinent person is Robin."

"Ehhh, not to defend my dear friend, but she was injected with truth serum or something."

"You weren't even there!" Younprotested with a laugh..

"I heard about it, and you weren't there either; you were busy running with Dustin and stealing pants from a Russian soldier that Erica knocked out because you couldn't hold it and got your pants wet."

You furrowed your brow.

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, Robin told me..."

You cut him off.

"You, couple of blabbermouth ol' ladies!" you exclaimed with a victorious smile.

You saw Eddie rest his chin on his palm thoughtfully, then he smiled at you, a genuine smile; not one of those reckless smiles he always had when he mocked something or tried to be sarcastic.

"Harrington loves you."

You furrowed your brow, and the sensation in your gut as if something had suddenly hit you hard didn't go unnoticed.

"I know; he wouldn't do all this if he didn't love me." You tried to play fool about it. You knew what Eddie truly meant.

Eddie shook his head with a half-smile and then took your Walkman and opened it to reveal the copy Steve had given you a few days before leaving on a trip through a couple of states with Dustin to visit Suzie that Monday.

"He made you a freaking mixtape, woman!"

You raised your eyebrows as you watched him almost offended shaking the cassette in his hand.

"So?"

He dropped his arms defeatedly as he pressed his lips in consternation.

"Sweetheart; that man swims in money."

You shook your head slightly.

"Well, now his folks don't support him much anyway..."

"The point is he could buy you an original copy, and our Lord and Savior knows the government owes us so much that he could even ask them to have Peter Gabriel himself come and sign the cover and leave," he argued. "But no; Steve Harrington took the time to strategically copy..." he began reading the song names listed on the cover of the copy. "In your eyes... Don't give up... Look! Book of Love and Solsbury Hill."

You rolled your eyes.

"And what's that got to do with anything?"

"Those songs are from the early '80s, Solsbury Hill came out in 1977," he pointed as if he had suddenly found the solution to some complicated arithmetic problem. "He used different albums to record you a copy; he took the time between his silly dates and his hair sessions, the ones he denies but we all know he has, to take different songs with clear meanings and give you a mixtape; not to Tina, Rebecca, Raquel, Luciana, or whatever the last girls he..."

You shook your head.

"I don't need a recap of his dates; I'm aware he has a bunch."

Eddie took a deep breath and looked you straight in the eyes.

"Steve Harrington loves you."

You chose to ignore the conversation you had had with Eddie the previous week whenever you pressed play on your Walkman and listened to that mixtape. Now you couldn't help but value that mixtape more just because you were delusional and wanted to think it was true; that Steve had gone through that trouble because he loved you.

When you got off the train and left the station, you were taking off your headphones and wrapping them around the Walkman when you almost bumped into Steve, with Dustin next to him with a huge smile. You hugged the boy first, stroking his curls and kissing his cheek, then tried not to make it too obvious that you almost lunged at Steve to wrap your arms around him. Steve was trying to do the same; not to take you by the waist and kiss your forehead before descending to your lips. The past week had been hell being apart; the phone bill would've been terrible if Dustin hadn't brought his portable radio tower to chat with you during the nights. You had to endure not only Dustin's teasing but also Suzie's sharp impertinence, who had no qualms about subjecting him to a tough interview involving feelings and too much adult talk that those kids shouldn't have to handle.

"I can't believe you're already here!" you greeted them with a big smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Dustin's mom is making dinner for all of us, and Dustin wants us to go so his mom won't ask too many questions about Suzie," Dustin grinned from ear to ear.

"Hey, I won't be persecuted by the inquisition, and you guys will have the best dinner ever - everyone wins," Dustin said with a smile

You raised an eyebrow and then burst into laughter

"I'm happy for you, Dustin, and I'm glad to know you can stop swearing for a while," you laughed and tucked your hair behind your ear, "and you?"

Steve started his car and shook his head.

"A nightmare; Suzie is like the female version of Dustin, but smarter and with better hygiene."

Dustin, far from being offended, seconded his friend, agreeing.

"I would be offended, but she's my girlfriend. Of course, she's better than me!"

You turned back to Dustin, smiling proudly.

"I'm glad you had a good week and that you've been kinda approved by Suzie's parents"

Steve pulled the car out of the parking lot and took one of the alternative routes to the Avenue that was being fixed. Since the last incident, Hawkins had been left without a mayor, and new elections had to be held once the situation was contained. The government, of course, decided that a large sum as compensation for the huge civil and structural loss wouldn't hurt, and the mayor's first measure was to start renewing Hawkins' roads and improving the civilians' common areas, as well as generating new jobs and housing. Once you all saw Nancy's mother cutting the ribbon for Hawkins' improved school, you knew Nancy had brought out all her qualities and problem-solving abilities from her mother.

She said her mother had been restless for a while. Nancy had noticed it even amidst Karen's unsuccessful efforts to mask it with a smile, neatly painted nails, and a new perm in her blonde hair. That was until after the huge disaster in Hawkins, Nancy dared to encourage her to run for mayor since many people knew her, and she really had good ideas to improve the town. Besides, nobody wanted the story of a new Larry Kline to repeat itself. According to Mike, his mother couldn't stop laughing at Nancy's suggestion until she realized that the only one finding it amusing was her, and that Ted seemed incredibly serious. When the table fell into a dead silence, the man spoke, shrugging, "And why not?" he said, "Holly will be entering school, Nancy will be going to college, and given Mike's grades, we'll probably have him for an extra year," he sarcastically mentioned the latter and then smiled at Karen, "You run this house perfectly; you can handle a town that clearly needs someone like you." And that was it, I mean, how could anyone refuse a reinvented Ted who had suddenly earned the respect of his family and all he had needed to do was support one of his oldest daughter's brilliant ideas?

When they arrived at Dustin's house, Claudia had already set the table and had the rest of the kids eating snacks in the living room. Claudia was the first to strangle Dustin in a tight hug, kissing his cheeks and forehead, and even though Dustin complained beneath the teasing giggles from the rest, you knew he enjoyed it.

"Oh, oh," Claudia murmured minutes later when they were all seated at the table as she got up to get an extra napkin for Eddie, who was at one end of the table sitting next to Steve, "Here, honey, we don't want that jacket to get ruined with meatball sauce."

Eddie smiled, covering his chest with the napkin and looping one end around his neck.

"Thanks, Mrs. Henderson."

The woman smiled.

"Oh, honey, call me Claudia, I've told you already," she patted Eddie's back and Steve's, "Oh, Lord! Did you get hurt in your mechanics classes again, Eddie?"

Eddie looked at the back of one of his hands, which was covered with a kind of translucent plastic fabric.

"This?" he waved the hand in front of her, "No, don't worry, it's just a new tat I got; I'll show you soon."

Claudia smiled again, concern leaving her face.

"Oh, that's fantastic," she encouraged him, returning to her seat and starting to eat.

"Fantastic?" Lucas frowned.

"Mom, you hate tattoos," Dustin reminded her, exchanging looks with Will and Lucas.

"Know what?" Claudia put down her fork to look at Dustin and shook her head, "This boy has shown me that I shouldn't judge a book by its cover and that tattoos are... what did you call it, Eddie?"

"Expression of the soul."

If she had rolled her eyes any harder, they would surely have popped out of their sockets, or so it seemed when Max adjusted her glasses and subtly reacted to Eddie's comment.

"Yes!" she pointed, smiling, then looked back at the rest of you who witnessed that exchange, "It sounds so good that I'm thinking of getting one myself."

"Mom, noooo," Dustin gestured without speaking aloud.

"I got this super talented buddy who'll do a bang-up job, Claudia," Eddie offered. "Just say the word, and I'll make a call."

"Oh sweet," Claudia glanced at Dustin. "Take notes." She got up again because she was Claudia Henderson, and she wouldn't be Claudia Henderson if she ever stayed quiet when you guys were around. "I'm gonna grab more lemonade."

"Just saying you can't get a tattoo!" Dustin said out loud with a little frown

"And why not?" Robin asked, sliding some noodles into her mouth with a smirk, like she already knew Dustin's response.

Nancy tried to hide a smile and lightly nudged Robin's arm, making her giggle and return the gesture. Jonathan seemed to catch the little exchange. Argyle didn't.

"'Cause it's old!" Dustin hissed a bit too loudly.

"Dustin!" You and Steve scolded him.

"Hey, Henderson," Eddie called out, and when everyone quieted down, he grinned. "Show some respect for my future wife."

That just made the rest of you burst out laughing and Dustin even more embarrassed.

"That's gross, man, don't go there, screw off," he spat out with disgust.

"What's up?" Claudia returned from the kitchen with another pitcher of lemonade and one of her smiles.

"Nothing, Claudia, just talking about how good this food is, right guys?" Eddie smiled innocently, and all of you except Dustin and Argyle had to bite your lips to hold back laughter.

"Of course," Mike was the first to chime in. "It's excellent, isn't it, El?"

She nodded silently beside him as she took another sip of her lemonade.

"Wonderful," Nancy twirled pasta around her fork with a smile.

"Better than my mom's," Robin affirmed.

"See, Claudia?" Eddie grinned innocently, making her blush at all the attention from you guys.

"Oh, how kind, and that's why I'll fill up your glass first," she offered, leaning in to fill Eddie's glass.

"Stop calling her Claudia," Dustin gestured without speaking aloud only for Eddie to understand

Eddie raised his middle finger subtly without Claudia seeing and shook his head, blowing a kiss with a huge smile.

After that, Mike, Will, Lucas, and Dustin decided to stay at home for a sleepover and D&D. The rest of you bid farewell to Claudia after El and Max decided to do the same at Hopper's house, and talked as you left Dustin's house to decide on the next plan for the night.

"What the heck are we gonna do?" Eddie stretched his fingers, loosening the rings adorning his phalanges.

"Yeah, bro it ain't cool that our social life depends on those little munch-truos," Argyle agreed with Robin.

You checked the time on your wristwatch and shook your head.

"Nah, guys, I'm in treatment, need to go yo bed early if I want it to work," you said, pouting a bit.

"What? Hey, will you be able to come to California with us then?" Eddie suddenly asked, becoming completely serious.

Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Robin turned to look at you impatiently. Argyle's cousin was like the Californian equivalent of Eddie and had been visiting during winter break when Argyle camr back too, something about wanting to see snow, and that's when he attended one of Eddie's performances at the Hideout. Anyway, he was fascinated by the way the band played. He said he knew an up-and-coming band that he knew would someday be big just like Corroded Coffin had the potential to be, and he was sure they could play with them at one of their gig at some California club. Nobody believed him, especially because Argyle had mentioned that once, at a party, his cousin had gone missing and they found him the next morning naked and huddled next to a dying bonfire. Surprisingly, Franco came through, and now he had catapulted Corroded Coffin to California where they would vacation and play for the wonderful band that was gaining fans on the coast. Of course, as always, all of you would travel to support them because, if you're there in the bad times, why not in the good times too?

"Of course, Eddie," you assured him.

"Plus, we wanna meet that band. Who can be named Billie Joel Armstrong and not be cool?" Jonathan raised a half-smile, hugging Nancy who smiled back, snuggling against his side.

Quickly, his blue eyes locked onto yours.

"You owe us a girls' night out," she reminded you, pointing at Robin who raised her eyebrows with an enthusiastic smile.

You laughed.

"I know," you replied, burying your hands in the pockets of your knit vest. "I gotta bail, guys," you bid farewell to everyone, including Steve, and he stopped you as the guys started walking to their cars to go somewhere where they would surely drink and chat.

"Hey, hey, hey, where do you think you're going alone?"

You looked at Steve on the sidewalk as his warm hand embraced your shoulder.

"Steve," you whispered with a smile, "There are no more demogorgons."

"I know, but there are murderers and creeps, and I'm not gonna let you walk alone in the middle of the night to your house."

"But we're so close by," you complained, "and the night's perfect for a walk," you muttered, and Steve started guiding you along the sidewalk toward your house.

"We'll walk then," he replied with a smile and determination as he followed, nudging and massaging your shoulder a couple of times before letting go.

You wanted to tell him not to stop, but you remained silent.

"You don't have to take care of me, go hang out with the guys and catch up; this week, Eddie gave a demo to some guy from a record label in Indianapolis, Jonathan's gonna present an exhibition of his photographs, and Argyle finally managed to do that thing he does when he smokes; the rings that disperse in the air."

"Great achievements, apparently," Steve hid a small smile, burying his hands in the pockets of his blue windbreaker, the one that had torn while trying to kill a demodog before it could eat Lucas when they started coming out in droves from the huge cracks that formed after the big earthquake. "You've just summarized everything in a sec; I don't see what else the guys could add."

You tilted your head, looking at him almost sternly, but you couldn't manage it, not while he smiled at you in that way illuminated by the streetlights.

"The truth is, Eddie tells his stories very well, I think is becauseof those campaigns he made for D&D" you smiled back and kept walking toward your house, unconsciously taking slow steps to make the journey home longer and have a bit more time with Steve Harrington. "When's your graduation ceremony?" you asked then, breaking the silence.

"They're supposed to give us the exam results this week, and then they'll give us the date," he replied. "Hopper says I should invite my parents."

You nodded, knowing that would be another disappointment for Steve if his parents refused to show up.

"I agree," you nodded, then looked at him, shrugging with a smile. "It's one last effort on your part, Steve, and if it doesn't work, it won't be because you didn't try."

He raised a sad smile.

"I wish...you know, they were less like my parents and more like, I dunno; Claudia or Joyce, or your parents. Damn, almost all those kids have good parents, look at Mrs. Wheeler, Jesus...even between council meetings and events, she was at Nancy's graduation and Holly's ballet presentation," he almost lamented, tapping the tip of his sneaker on the pavement. "Now I'm whining like a baby," he frowned. "I shouldn't be bothered, I'm used to it."

You observed his anguish through his voice and his gaze. Steve had become very good at turning the pain from his absent parents into false indifference.

"Do you remember what you said once...? ...that time in the trailer. You said you wanted to have a family, kids, and go on a trailer vacation like that one..."

If it weren't for the night, you couldn't be sure if Steve's cheeks had flushed or not.

"What about it?"

You took his arm, and Steve could feel a slight short circuit in his nerves, as if a single touch of your hand sent signals from your body to his. He looked at you, waiting for your response, and you smiled at him proudly even before speaking.

"The point is, even in your plans, Steve, you broke the cycle. You'll have a beautiful family, you'll fall in love with this... wonderful woman who'll see the person we all see, and you'll have kids whom you'll support in every dance rehearsal, every soccer practice, and every darn Christmas recital because that's the person you've become despite your parents, not thanks to them," you let go and looked at him appreciatively, as if the words weren't able to contain what shone in your gaze. Steve wanted to figure out what it was.

He struggled to understand what the rest saw in him when his training officers told him that his effort was commendable or that he was doing really well, he didn't believe it. He didn't believe it when Hopper patted his shoulder, pressed his lips, and told him it would be a great honor to see him become an officer and then the next sheriff. He, Steve Harrignton, doing something more than just working for his father.

But when you said those things and looked at him in that way, for a brief moment, he believed he was all those things.

"Are you-are you...?" he stammered and tried to compose himself. "Are you going to be at the graduation?"

You let go and nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course, I'll be the loudest cheerleader in the front row," you promised, then kept walking without looking back at him. Sometimes it hurt just to see him for a few seconds. "I... I made a decision while you weren't here."

Steve put his right hand on his chest, pretending to be offended.

"How dare you?"

You laughed, shaking your head and biting the inside of your cheek.

"I'm going to stay in the university dorms," you replied. "I feel it's the healthiest thing to do. I want to keep studying, but traveling and having to say goodbye every Sunday is torture."

That sentence was like a kick in his stomach, capable of leaving him breathless, and he knew that, he had had enough of suffocating blows in his life to be able to say that this one was undoubtedly the worst he had felt.

He cleared his throat.

"That's... are you sure?"

You weren't, but you nodded. You thought about what the psychiatrist had said that afternoon, about pulling it out by the root and not putting a band-aid patch over it. She was referring to insomnia, but you supposed you could apply it to many things.

"Yeah," you finally said. "I mean, I'll still come back for holidays and vacations. It's just... three years, they'll fly by."

Neither you nor Steve believed that. You were lying, and Steve was helping you maintain that lie. He helped you hold it heavily all the way to your house. Because he knew it wouldn't be just three years. You were brilliant, and there was no way that in all your right mind you wouldn't want to get a master's and eventually a doctorate. It was like sand slipping through his fingers, only it wasn't simple sand, it was you, and he would be an idiotic selfish jerk if he tried to persuade you not to do it. There was no way you would leave university, and he wouldn't subject you to the torture of constantly saying goodbye to your family and missing them so much during the week. You had the right to choose, and you were doing it.

He said goodbye to you at the door of your house and did what he hadn't been able to do in front of Dustin outside the train station; he kissed your forehead, which felt as eternal as it was brief, and promised to call you as soon as he got home and help you sleep.

You wanted him to, but you also hated the idea. You wanted to feel eager to reinforce that decision that had been rummaging in your mind all last week, not to realize that if you missed Steve during the fifteen minutes it took him to get back to his car and get to his house, you didn't want to know how much you would miss him if you couldn't see him for a whole semester.

So the summer passed, like a bittersweet orange blur of trips to the lake, afternoons in the sun at Steve's pool, whispered nights with his soft monologues inviting you to deep sleep, and more reasons accumulated as to why you fell more in love with him. Two weeks had passed since that conversation on the way home, when Hopper announced at a barbecue that they would throw a party for Steve to celebrate his graduation. Jim didn't say it, but you noticed from the way he hugged Joyce and held his beer without alcohol that he was proud of Steve and how much he had changed since the police found him fighting with Jonathan in that alley next to the movie theater. You screamed with all the force of your lungs when you saw him receive a Fitness Award and a Leadership Award with a smile as you had promised, and Steve didn't have time to miss his parents because all of you called your own to cheer for him and show him off as if he were their son. Your mother used to joke about it at home, saying she loved him like one but wished she could call him one, but that only depended on you. That summer passed, and you couldn't do anything about it, or maybe you could, but you didn't dare. You didn't even dare in California when you traveled in Eddie and Argyle's vans and spent nights on the beach and watching Eddie and his band rehearse to play alongside Billie's band, who did exist and yes, was pretty good. Not even after having that conversation with Nancy while trying on clothes at South Coast Plaza.

It was the day of Corroded Coffin's big concert, Nancy and you had decided to buy an outfit according to a great Rock concert at The Whisky a Go Go, one of the famous venues in West Hollywood where emerging bands usually performed.

As they ate ice cream and dragged their bags, you decided it was time to talk to someone about it. If not with Steve, then with the only person in the world who could perfectly understand how you felt. The only other person who had fallen deeply in love with Steve and had broken his heart.

"Nance..." you spoke after a moment of silence while you had taken refuge in the least crowded corner of the food court. "I need to tell you something."

"Okay, go ahead," she asked after seeing that you were having trouble continuing the conversation you had started.

"I have feelings for Steve," you said, after discovering that there was no correct way to say it except to say it.

Nancy looked at you for a few seconds with her huge eyes and then raised a half smile.

"No shit."

She resumed eating ice cream, and you resumed breathing.

"I know there's an unspoken policy about dating a friend's ex, but I promise I have no remote intention of dating him. In fact, I fully intend to take all this and bury it with... I don't know, Henry Creel?" you asked nervously, earning a laugh from Nancy.

"You're too funny," she replied. "Listen," she sighed, "Steve doesn't belong to me. He can date whoever he wants, and honestly, I'd rather it be you."

"I'm not going to do anything about it, Nance. I'm going to college, and it would be very complicated," you said.

She snorted.

"As if you're not magically going to miss him just because you don't dare tell him you love him," she muttered, savoring her strawberry ice cream with sunglasses still covering her eyes.

"Nancy, it's your ex-boyfriend we're talking about."

She smiled, even with the cone in front of her mouth.

"Yeah, I know. He broke up with me, and then I broke up with him, or something like that. The truth is, we've never really agreed on that."

You looked at her, not understanding how she could be so calm having this conversation with you. You hadn't even said you loved him out loud yet, and you already felt like your body was catastrophically sweating. Seriously, this couldn't be normal.

"It's... your first love, the person you experienced everything with... how do you compete with that?"

Nancy left her ice cream and looked at you seriously.

"You don't have to," she settled next to you to face you. "It's true, there's a lot of our history with Steve that I'll always cherish, but you don't have to compete with that, believe me," she affirmed confidently. "Steve... was different, and I was different. I broke his heart; my relationship with Steve taught me the wrong way I can love someone. We were both so... childish and selfish, we distrusted each other and hurt each other. It was love, but it hurt, and it shouldn't hurt," she confided in you. "And not content with that, I almost made the same mistake with Jonathan," she added, almost embarrassed.

You watched her for a good moment, then picked up that ice cream that was still halfway through in your hand.

"I've always felt a little jealous of you, you know?" you admitted and laughed nervously. "You saw it, Nance; you saw who Steve was behind all that facade."

"In those days, I just wanted to fit in," she said.

"But you did see through him," you smiled. "Nancy Wheeler always one step ahead of all of us."

She glanced at you sideways and smiled.

"Well, if we're admitting our female jealousies, I must say I've always envied the way you talk about what you feel; I've always wanted to be a little like that, I mean if I had spoken clearly about my emotions, I probably would have avoided a lot of misunderstandings," she shrugged, and then smiled sadly. "You've always been able to start the most difficult and most necessary conversations, so please, let this not be the first time you're going to stop doing this, because if you don't talk to Steve for real, I'm going to be tragically disappointed."

You couldn't promise her that, because you knew you couldn't keep it.

After that unforgettable night for Eddie and the rest of the members of Corroded Coffin, they returned to Hawkins, the kids to their first day of school, Nancy to pack for her first year of college with Robin, Eddie to work, Steve to wear his police suit, and you to move to the University.

If you thought saying goodbye to your parents and Steve was painful before, now facing the prospect of a whole semester away from them was even worse. You felt a terrible knot in your chest, it hurt so much that you believed it couldn't be good for your health, and you tried to convince yourself all the way to Indianapolis that you had definitely made the best decision.

"Hey, wait," Steve called to you before you entered the building and he left. You turned, trying to hold back the tears and not letting him see how pathetically they were following an invisible path down your cheeks. You looked at him, and he seemed suddenly lost, as if he weren't this adult guy who had to do away with his self-proclaimed best feature to fulfill the obligation of short hair at the Police Academy and thus do what he was destined to do; take care of others honorably, but a little scared little kid.

You raised your eyebrows.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't let Lewis intimidate you again. You fought against many monsters for you to let a simple human belittle you when clearly you don't deserve it."

You smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Steve."

"There's something else," Steve looked at the building behind you and nervously opened and clenched his palms.

You looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"You won't have a phone in your room," You confirmed that statement with a nod, and then he walked to his car to take out a shoebox and hand it to you. "I... did this; it's the best idea I could come up with, there's also the radio, but you'd spend too much on batteries, and this is something similar, right?" he asked when you opened the box to reveal a large number of homemade cassettes. "I recorded myself talking; most of it is nonsense, but that's not the point of all this, right?" he smiled. "It's so you can sleep."

You looked at him and the box, and his hands still surrounding the cardboard material next to yours, and you set that box aside to hug him in silence because the truth was that a thank you felt very little. Not even that hug felt enough. Steve sniffed your hair one last time because he wanted to memorize it. This didn't feel like a simple goodbye. Maybe he was being dramatic, maybe it was because of the words that were never expressed, or the fact that he simply loved you and wouldn't be able to do the most he had aspired to do in this life: share it with you, even as friends.

"Steve," you spoke and let him go to look at him, and it felt like a mistake, "you know you're very important to me, and I'm going to miss you very much, right?"

I love you, you make me happy. I feel protected even though I know I can perfectly be alone, but I prefer you to do it. You make me take care of myself. Everyone thinks we should be together, even me, but I can't bear the idea of you not loving me back. I love your hair, long or short. You drive me crazy in uniform, just like you'll probably drive all those available girls waiting for you in Hawkins crazy. I want that life with you; the house, the dog, the six little Nuggets, and traveling across the country in a caravan to vacation in California where Nancy and Jonathan will surely live when they get married. Where Eddie will buy his first house after his first world tour with Corroded Coffin. And where San Francisco is, the place where Robin will surely move to once she discovers there's a quieter and more acceptable place for her, where she'll surely take Will with her once the boy tells them about that part of him he's so terrified of. Where they'll be able to see their friends, and surely those six Nuggets will make friends with their kids because that was the life you wanted with Steve. Because I love you.

But no.You didn't say it.

You smiled. He smiled, kissed your forehead, and said goodbye.

And you suffered again as you watched Steve drive away in his car.

Steve had learned a few things from you. Remember that one time, Mike had been disrespectful to Nancy, and of course, you stood up for her. Mike didn't take it well; it was a stupid sibling fight, couldn't even tell how it started, but the kid got mad at you because it wasn't your problem, you weren't his sister. Steve wanted to yell at him, wanted to tell him he was a spoiled, ungrateful brat who still couldn't understand that he was loved by more people than he probably deserved at that moment. But you seemed to anticipate that situation because only the Lord knew how well you had come to know him, so your hand wrapped around Steve's arm, and your finger briefly traced circles on his wrist, as if calming him down, and you decided to give him the space the furious Mike demanded. Hours later, he saw you approaching him, where he had isolated himself that afternoon by the lake, not even Eleven could get close to him. He saw you timidly take his arm and link yours with his as you talked. The rest of you were preparing a bonfire, Dustin and Steve had wandered off a bit to make sandwiches while Dustin chattered about something he couldn't quite remember. From that distance, he could see you put your hand on his shoulder and smile at him, then you told him you loved him. Steve thought Mike would be embarrassed, would frown, and probably leave you there alone with just your words of affection, but no. Mike smiled shyly, scratched his head, and nodded back, telling you that he loved you too.

You had managed to turn the little spoiled brat into a functional human who had learned the power of saying "I love you" to his friends.

Steve then felt it, as if suddenly something sprouted from within him.

"Dustin, shut up for Crying out Loud," he stopped looking at you and Mike to look his little friend in the eyes. "I swear, Henderson, if you talk any faster, you're gonna make me puke. You talk too much," he gestured with his hands, met with Dustin's serious gaze, "You talk a lot, you're annoying, and I love you," he said abruptly, and after saying it, he realized it was something he had always wanted to say and that it hadn't been so hard, "I love you, dude."

He saw Dustin's bewildered look, who dropped the sandwich from his hands onto the rocks surrounding the lake and hugged Steve tightly, a gesture Steve had to accept because he had opened his mouth in the first place. He didn't look at him; he looked out at the water while unconsciously patting the kid. He heard him let out a small, almost imperceptible sob.

"I love you too, Steve."

That afternoon, he had learned that the best things must be said, and as he drove back to Hawkins after dropping you off at your dorm, he couldn't understand what had really stopped him from telling the truth. Maybe he just made excuses; there had to be a way for you to keep studying without feeling miserable about being away from home and for him to keep loving you without being afraid of not being what you deserved, what you needed, or worse; what you wanted.

But it was too late for regrets. You had a degree to pursue and he had a job to get to.

But he should have spoken, he should have spoken, and that was the repetitive thought that haunted him in the days and weeks after returning without you and with a defeated feeling weighing heavily on his shoulders.

It wasn't easier for you; you constantly found yourself daydreaming in class, and weekends were the worst; if you couldn't talk to your parents, Steve, or the rest of the group on the phone, you'd find yourself depressed in your room reading books and filling your notebook with poems dedicated to someone who would never know. The only time of day that became a bit easier was when you went to bed and put on your headphones, listening to Steve's voice. You had heard him talk about the silly things he did as a child to get his mother's attention and the time Dustin found him trying to climb to Nancy's window with roses. You never got very far in the narration; you always fell asleep quickly, but it wasn't until one particular night that your curiosity was piqued when you woke up from a nightmare and discovered that the cassette was still playing, and you heard Steve's voice talking about something very different from what he had chosen to talk about initially. You rewound the tape a bit, and as you tried to shake off the remnants of a nightmare you were starting to forget, you heard him, unintentionally falling asleep in the middle of his monologue.

"... sometimes I believe all those things," a weary laugh, "I can believe I'm capable of doing all that; because, you know? The real reason I thought I needed my parents' money to sustain myself was that was the only thing that could keep me close to them in some way. Can't they love me? Fine; then let them give me something of themselves. But the thing is, they don't care. Dad stopped giving me money not because he cared about wasting it on me, but because he wanted to teach me a lesson, and it wasn't a life lesson like any parent would do. No, that's not Mr. Harrington's style. What my father wanted was to show me that I'm nobody without him, that my identity is to be a Harrington," he paused, as if it cost him every ounce of his oxygen, and you held your breath along with him, fearing that something would happen and prevent you from continuing to listen, "So... I don't know, Nancy was the first person I wanted to fight for, the one I wanted to get out of that bubble and challenge everything my parents taught me to value. Then when I no longer had Nancy, I realized that without the money, without that house, without the friends who kissed my ass... there was nothing in me to give to anyone else; I was empty," his voice sounded sad, "it was the reality check I needed..." the sound of the tape grain could be heard for long seconds before he spoke again, "And one day, there I was, Robin telling me all the reasons I sucked, and then you showed up with your smile and your hair and your eyes, and you were the same girl I saw all those years in school but at the same time not, and then you asked me what I was doing there. You did it while you waited for me to put your ice cream in a cone, you asked it as if we were old friends, people used to talk. I told you I worked there because I didn't want to work with my father," he laughed, "I don't know why I told you that. Then I handed you the ice cream cone, sure that you thought I was a loser, but you smiled again as if you saw through me. As if you knew exactly what I was talking about and you said, 'Well done'," he laughed again, "just that, you said goodbye to Robin, left me a tip, and smiled at me once more before leaving. I had so much to say to you that I just stayed quiet there at the Scoop's Ahoy counter while Robin put a mark on the side of the board claiming that I didn't suck as much as she thought and that was the first day of my life that I believed there was something more in me than the empty and frivolous king Steve who left high school without a care in the world... darn it, sweets, I'm going to miss you so much..."

You didn't realize you were crying until the tape ended and felt your cheeks damp. You wiped your tears and settled on your side for a sleepless night full of enormous curiosity. You repeated Steve's words to yourself, What would Steve have told you that afternoon in the ice cream shop if you had stayed a little longer? Maybe you wouldn't have to wait another week to see him again, when you went to visit Robin and found her translating a cryptic message in Russian with Dustin Henderson. Maybe things would have been different; maybe since Steve and you didn't quite know each other yet, he would have asked you out, but you would never know.

The next morning didn't help your mood starting with Lewis's class and his very disastrous grade delivery. He gave you a grade low enough that your lack of sleep, excess caffeine, and frustration got you out of your seat and led you to his desk with a furrowed brow and a lot of verbal vomit to let out.

"Can I help you with something?"

You nodded at the disdainful look from your narrative professor.

"Yes, I want to know why I can't get good grades on your exams even though I'm very good and I work very hard."

He looked at you for a few seconds like a snake studying its prey to know the best way to attack.

"Maybe because you try too hard; there's something sad about those who are always trying to please others."

You listened to his words attentively and then let out an incredulous little smile.

"I'm not trying to please others. I know I'm good, I don't need you to pat me on the head or praise me, I just want the right grade to pass this class and graduate the way I want."

He laughed, surprised at your words.

"Oh, is that what you want? Wanting and deserving are not synonyms; one thing is what you want and another thing is what you deserve, and what you deserve is right here in red numbers," he replied, tapping the paper of your exam.

You looked at him for a good moment. To this man with a superiority complex and remembered Steve, who was this bitter man next to Vecna? What was Lewis compared to a demogorgon?

"Allow me to disagree," you murmured back.

"And what do you deserve then? Enlighten me."

You thought about your options. You had a full scholarship like the rest of the group, courtesy of the government as a reward for saving the world without dying in the attempt. If you wanted, you knew you could get into any university just by saying please. You were sure that if you had been more petty, you could have managed to get Lewis fired because that's how much the government kissed all your asses.

You knew at least what you didn't deserve after years of fighting monsters and thinking you would lose your friends and family more than once: you didn't deserve this. You didn't deserve to leave everything you loved in Hawkins for a person who apparently had made it his life goal to ruin yours.

You leaned over his desk and smiled at him.

"Listen to me. You and I both know this is not my grade. You and I both know that for some reason, you hate me and I could live with that if you weren't constantly trying to sabotage me. You know why I'm here," you whispered seriously, "because I did something you'll never do in your life, judging students unfairly behind a desk, and you know that reporting your lack of ethics to the university council would be the easiest thing I've ever had to do in my life. So let's do this; keep hating me and see where that gets you. I'm going to leave my exam here again, and you're going to review it again. And since it's time for the end, I think you can handle me being absent from your class for the next few minutes, can't you?"

He called your name as you turned around and went to get your things from your seat, he was furious but trying to contain himself.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"What I deserve isn't here, Professor Lewis," you replied with determination, some students had started to notice the tension, "And I'm going to find it now. Remember what I told you," you announced with a smile and walked out of the room with a newfound courage you didn't know you had.

Steve missed you too much. Many afternoons he had been on the verge of taking his keys and driving to Indianapolis to visit you, but he knew that went against the whole purpose of you moving to the dorms in the first place. Sometimes he sat alone on his couch, the nights he missed you so much that it was impossible to sleep, and accompanied by a beer, he watched The Princess Bride while imagining that you were there saying how similar the actor who played Westley was to the former mayor of Hawkins, the one Powell had had arrested. Steve laughed because he didn't see much resemblance except for some gestures. It was a painful exercise, imagining you by his side, but it was the only thing that had helped him when not even going on dates with other girls had worked.

"Listen," Phil Callahan approached him with a smile as Steve filled out a form about a recent arrest he and Powell made last week when Mrs. Driscoll's vacant house had been vandalized.

"I'm busy, Cal, what do you want?" he muttered under his breath without looking at him as he wrote, concentrating on the paper.

"My girlfriend has a friend who thinks you'd like to meet her, she's a bit older..."

Steve set the pencil aside and looked at him.

"I'm not interested," he said, moving to the IBM to make a copy of the paper.

"Oh, come on!" Callahan protested, "She doesn't even look her age, seriously, she could pass for 23, 25?"

Steve sighed tiredly, touching his nose with his hands and then running his fingers through his hair.

"It's not because of that, Phil, I just don't want to, period."

He could see the disappointment on Phil Callahan's face as he shook his head.

"Is it because of your friend, right? The one who always carries that book, what's her name...?"

Steve frowned, and it was as if defense protocols within him started to kick in. Even before Callahan kept speculating about you, Steve began walking towards Hopper's office where Joyce and he were sharing lunch and laughter. He knocked on the door that was already half-open and entered the office, interrupting their laughter.

"What did you tell Callahan?"

Joyce tensed up in her seat, leaving the plastic fork in her salad container as she glanced uncomfortably at both of them. Hopper, on the other hand, seemed somewhat pleased, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he remained silent, watching Steve.

"Uh, I'll be going…" Joyce began to rise, grabbing her bag. She went over to Jim and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss on the lips goodbye, promising to see him at home that night. As she passed by Steve, she of course touched his shoulder and squeezed it gently before leaving the office and closing the door behind her.

Steve and Hopper shared a staring contest until Hopper adjusted his belt, the one he had to poke another hole in because he had lost weight since Russia, weight he had made an effort not to regain.

He gestured with his hand and spoke up, "Sit." When Steve complied, Hopper leaned back in his chair. "What happened?"

"Callahan wanted to set me up on a double date and I turned him down. He then asked me if it was because of a friend...so I knew you had mentioned something because who else would he talk to about this?" Hopper interrupted with a nod.

"Yeah, I might have mentioned a thing or two about you being in love with a lady who went off to study in Indianapolis."

"Why would you tell him that, of all the cops, to the most annoying one?" Steve asked, puzzled.

"Why not? I knew he'd say something and have you storming into my office, interrupting my quality time with my lady to give me a lecture I don't need," the police chief seemed totally content despite what he had said.

"Jim, you're not making sense and I've got a ton of bureaucratic paperwork to do," Jim rolled his eyes and leaned his elbows on his desk.

"If I hear you say 'I've got a ton of paperwork' one more time, I swear I'll kick you out of this station," he muttered, then covered his mouth with his hand thoughtfully and watched him, "You're miserable, Harrington," he declared, "You were one of the top graduates of the academy, you're one of the youngest people ever awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom for saving the world, not once, not twice, but five times from extinction. Everyone out there knows it; they saw the TV coverage and saw you receive the medal Reagan gave you, and yet here you are; walking around like a pre-programmed robot and bugging me about what I should or shouldn't talk to my police officers about."

"You did it on purpose!" Jim smiled at Steve's protest.

"Touche," he murmured, "The thing, Steve, is that it's really sad to see you like this. You're young, you're smart, you've got the looks, and you've been busting your butt at work. Last week you raided two drug houses, two!" he reminded him, "You need to slow down a bit and live, and you won't, I know, because she's not here."

That left Steve somewhat perplexed. "I… uh… Hopper."

He stopped him. "If you're going to deny it, don't even bother," he retorted, "You know what? You and I are alike." Steve snorted, earning one of Jim's pseudo-threatening looks. "Yeah, we are. Deep down, we're lone wolves. I lost my little girl, you've heard about that, right? I lost her and I wrecked my whole life; my marriage, my friendships. I breakfasted on whiskey and messed around with so many women I frankly don't remember their names, and it doesn't make me proud. I'd come home late at night because I preferred spending more time at the station than in my own place, after a long day to sit in my armchair, alone in my house, living on memories because I was too scared to make new ones," he admitted, "I had the love of my life right in front of me, and it wasn't until we faced a potentially dangerous situation that I realized I could lose everything I wanted without even having had it."

Steve, silent as a tomb, had to admit inwardly that, much to his dismay, Jim Hopper and he were alike.

"I'm sorry, Hopper."

"Don't be sorry," he replied, "I don't regret any of that because it brought me to where I am now, but I do regret that you have to put yourself in a similar situation when you have the choice to spare yourself and that brilliant young lady all that grief."

Steve furrowed his brow and shook his head somewhat nervously. "She already chose…"

"She's scared," Hopper said intensely, covering his eyes with some impatience, "Damn it, why do we have to explain everything to you guys?" he ran his hand over his face to his chin,

"Hopper, I appreciate your concern, but this isn't your problem…" Steve began to get up.

"It is," he argued.

Steve furrowed his brow. "It isn't."

"It is because you're my problem, kid," he pointed to the chair again, "Sit." Steve sighed wearily but obeyed his police chief, "I'm sorry you lucked out in the crappy parent distribution, but life's unfair, and honestly, you've managed to pull through despite not getting the love you deserved and needed," he murmured, "but you have us. You have me and Joy," he admitted, "She always talks about you guys as our kids, and I've never corrected her, you know why? Because you are, our kids. You're mine, kid. And when I see you sad or tired or angry, I'm going to try my damn hardest to make that stop," he let out that last sentence almost halfway, and for the first time, Steve caught a glimpse of the vulnerable man under the sheriff's facade, Hopper always wore. "Joy did it, Steve: without her, I'd be miserable," he half-smiled, letting out a soft chuckle, "I don't want you to reach my age wondering what could have been if you had gone to find your Joy and given your heart, so do me a damn favor," he settled back into his chair, "Get your butt off my chair, get out of my office, and take the day off. And don't come back until you've gone for her and gotten your smile back," he asked for the form paper that Steve still had in his hand. Steve was frozen, his stomach feeling light, and his mouth somewhat dry from the shock.

Jim Hopper wanted him like a son. Him; the real son of the person he used to hate in school. The guy who wasn't the easiest to deal with on earth, to whom he had given the chance to be and do something despite his fears.

He owed a lot to Jim.

He handed him the sheet and got up from his seat again to walk to the door, but he couldn't leave without saying anything, so he swallowed that lump in his throat and turned back to Hopper.

"Thanks," he barely managed to say.

He saw the sheriff's eyes somewhat cloudy with emotion and nodded.

"Get going, and tell Callahan I want him here in my office yesterday."

Steve gave a smile and left Hopper's office with a new mission that wasn't within that station.

"And?" Cal asked as he ate a donut with a relaxed posture.

Steve went to grab his favorite jacket, the blue windbreaker that had been almost destroyed by a demogorgon and that you had secretly stitched up to surprise him.

"I gotta go. And Hopper's looking for you," was all he said before leaving the station.

When you arrived in Hawkins, you took a taxi that dropped you right outside Steve's house. The huge house looked totally deserted, and the lights remained off. His car was not there, and only the distant chirping of crickets could be heard. You wondered what to do. You didn't want to go to your parents' house and explain your unexpected return to them without first telling Steve. You looked around the house and told the taxi driver he could leave. You'd wait, you told yourself as you sat on the stairs leading to his house. Yes, you would wait; after all, he had to come back at some point, right? So you took out the flashlight that Dustin made you all carry along with a pocket emergency kit and opened one of your books to start reading. If you had defied Lewis this morning, you wouldn't give him reasons to think you were a failure, oh no. Now you were even more determined to graduate from college with or without his approval.

You were not in your university dorms. Your roommate claimed that morning you had returned very early from your classes, grabbed your bag, and announced you were going home for a few days. That abrupt decision made Steve's gut twist with a bad feeling. What if something was wrong? What if you were having another one of your insomnia crises and all the recordings he had made for you had been useless?

So he rushed back to Hawkins with his badge in hand, ready to say his pregnant wife was having strong contractions if any interstate cop stopped him for speeding. When he arrived, he passed by your house and peered through the windows because he didn't want to alarm your parents if you hadn't gone there. You weren't there; you weren't at Robin's or the Wheelers'. And you weren't at Eddie's house because he had had to travel to the West Coast a few days ago. You weren't at Family Video, and you weren't at the lake. So, worried to the tip of his hair and distraught, he thought of one last place you would probably go back to in Hawkins. So he drove his car there and started driving to his house because he was desperate and really wished he could find you there. It was beyond just wanting to see you; it was about making sure you were safe.

The powerful headlights of a car interrupted your reading. You raised your hand in front of you to shield your eyes from the light. You closed your book and set it aside on the paved path when the lights dimmed, and you managed to recognize Steve's vehicle. He abruptly stopped the car, almost on the lawn of the driveway, and got out of the vehicle quickly, slamming the door shut without the consideration he usually gave to his BMW. You waited standing in front of the door of his house and saw his worried expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked when he stopped in front of you, studying you, as if making sure you weren't harmed.

You furrowed your brow. "Yeah, of course, what's wrong?" you asked when you saw him covering his face and running his hand through his hair with relief.

"I… I went to Indianapolis to look for you, and you weren't there. I thought something had happened to you."

"You traveled all the way there and back?!" you asked, seeing his disheveled hair and the traces of concern in his eyes. Then you took him by his arms and nodded. "I'm fine, just… I missed home and needed to come back."

He nodded silently, allowing himself to breathe and then pulled you to him to envelop you in his arms and breathe in your shampoo again. Steve closed his eyes and enjoyed the scent for a few moments. It had been a long time since he had smelled that scent, and it felt like a damn eternity.

"I came home because I confronted Lewis," you said finally, still with your face against Steve's chest, your hand inadvertently brushing the fabric of his uniform, which could be seen under his windbreaker.

Steve opened his eyes and let you go, enough to be able to look you in the eyes with curiosity.

"What happened?"

You made a somewhat embarrassed grimace.

"I may or may not have used America's debt to us for our heroic sacrifice to threaten him with getting rid of him if he keeps using his privilege to treat me unfairly," you said, then tilted your head, "or maybe he thought I'd get rid of him like with the demogorgons, but either one works if I want him to leave me alone once and for all."

Steve raised a smile, and the small laugh he let out turned into a bright laugh.

"You're… you're…" he looked at you, embracing you by your lower back and pulling you closer to him, "Joy," he murmured thoughtfully, remembering Hopper's words and starting to laugh, "Damn it, Hopper."

You furrowed your brow and looked at him confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"I had…" he slightly tightened his grip on your back as if giving a small caress, smiled with a look of disbelief on his face as he looked at the ground, trying to find the right words, "...the must surreal conversation with Hopper, and he told me I should look for my Joy, that's what he calls Joyce, so I thought he meant a person to love, but it's more than that, isn't it?" he smiled at you.

You studied him with confusion, unable to understand him.

"I heard your recording. It was about the day we saw each other at Scoop's Ahoy, I didn't even remember what we had talked about that day; you told me about how you didn't want to work for your father so you had chosen to work there instead," you smiled, "It was brave, Steve," you smiled and then swallowed hard, looking at the ground, you were still very close to Steve, maybe you had to take a step back and clear your mind? But his arms still surrounded you, and it felt good, and there was a chance that after this, this would be the last time he would hold you like that. "In the recording," you finally said, "you said you had a lot of things to tell me, that day at the mall, what was it, Steve?"

He observed you in silence, and one of his arms let you go so his hand could comb the hair on one of your sides. His eyes studied your face, and he seemed calm, as if he had made peace with any thoughts inside him, he looked resigned, but happy.

"I don't remember," he half-smiled, "but I'm glad I didn't talk to you that day; I probably would've flirted with you in the worst way possible and invited you to a disappointing date. I would've missed out on everything else…"

You half-smiled, "Do you mean making me pee my pants while trying to save you and Robin from the Russians?"

He chuckled.

"Of your friendship, of… the trips, the afternoons at the lake, and of," he turned his hand to hug you, "this."

Your stomach churned with surprise, and you looked at him expectantly.

"This?" you asked ",What is this?"

He took a deep breath and never stopped looking at you for a second, called you by your name, and then rested his forehead against yours.

"I want you to be happy always, that's why I didn't stop you from moving to the dorms even though just the thought of having to miss you half the year was killing me," he admitted.

You furrowed your brow sadly.

"I wanted to leave because I couldn't bear the goodbyes every Sunday, but the truth is, what would break me the most would be having to say goodbye to you without knowing if while I was there you would meet your girl and suddenly forget about me," you confessed back, practically declaring your feelings for him to his face, "I preferred to run away than to have to see you all the time and just be your friend."

He closed his eyes with his forehead still against yours.

"You are my happiness," he whispered with his breath hitting you, "I want to love you."

"You've already been doing that," you murmured as you felt his nose touch yours and his face turned to meet yours, his lips meeting yours.

"Then I'm going to love you more," he promised just before kissing you.

That kiss didn't feel like any other kiss you had given before. It was as if you were finally home, and this was the way Steve welcomed you. The softness of his lips sent small electric shocks through your body; you could hear the beating of your own heart as Steve caressed your face. Steve smiled into the kiss; this was much better than he imagined every time he looked at your lips and wondered what it would be like to kiss you.

This made it real; Steve's dream and your dream becoming one.

When you separated, you didn't do it much, just a few inches, enough to breathe and look at each other with fascination. It felt like the first time Steve saw you.

"Did you visit your parents when you arrived?" you shook your head, and Steve smiled, "Do you want to stay?" he asked, and you nodded again, still catching your breath and unable to speak yet. Steve laughed and then moistened his lips with his tongue, combing your hair, "Do you know what that means?"

You shook your head, "What does it mean?"

Steve lowered his hands to your thighs, lifting you up in the air, and making you cling to him, hugging him with your legs as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"You're going to sleep like a rock ronight, Babe," he said with a laugh, and you cradled his face to give him another kiss while Steve walked to the door and opened it quickly with you still in his arms.

He didn't let go of you, not even when he put you in bed with him and talked to you until both fell asleep.

The next morning, Steve arrived late at the station, his hair still wet, and he entered apologizing, but from the expression on his face, he didn't seem to regret it. The smile never left his face, and Hopper hid his behind his coffee mug when he saw him leave in a hurry as soon as the shift ended.

Well, now he had a reason to go home.

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington comfort #friends to lovers #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington

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