Elegia (Steve Harrington x Reader)
Summary: You get a call at 6 in the morning from your coworker Steve Harrington, demanding to know your favorite song.
Word Count: 1777
Warnings: Language, mentions of grief, guilt, & losing family in the Starcourt fire, Vecna curse stuff.
(The gif is from the Netflix Giphy account. It doesn't have anything to do with the fic but I love it lol)
In case you want to listen along: Elegia
Read Part II Here
Ring, ring!
You stirred in your sleep, trying to hold onto your peaceful dream for a bit longer…
Ring, ring!
You groaned and rolled out of bed, shuffling to the phone on your desk. Whoever it was obviously needed to talk to you at—5:58 a.m.?!
“Hello?” you said tiredly, stifling a yawn.
“Y/N, hey! It’s Steve.”
You frowned, expecting some early-bird telemarketer, not Steve Harrington.
He was your friend and Family Video coworker. Sure, you’d spent some time together hanging out outside of work, but not enough for him to be calling at this hour.
“Hey, man,” you said. “Whatever this is couldn’t have waited a couple more hours?”
“Sorry to wake you,” Steve said. “I have an important question for you.”
You felt ice in your veins. Wait, what was happening? Surely Steve wasn’t about to ask you out…right?
Not that you’d be totally opposed to the idea or anything—you were just surprised.
“Really?” you said. “What is it?”
All of your expectations came crashing down when Steve asked: “What’s your favorite song?”
You blinked a couple times, exhaustion-addled brain trying to comprehend.
“Huh?”
“Your favorite song?” Steve pressed. “What is it?”
“You woke me up for that?” you said, trying not to sound too angry or disappointed.
“I know it’s random, but it’s important. Very important!”
“More important than beauty sleep?”
“Yes.”
You sighed and rubbed your pounding forehead. Although it was stupid, Steve sounded serious. It wouldn’t hurt to play along.
“My taste is eclectic,” you said. “I listen to a bit of everything. What genre are we talking about?”
“All the genres! If you had to pick just one song, what would it be?”
You glanced at the stack of vinyls on your desk. Of all the options, there was one album, and one song on said album, that stood out.
“‘Elegia,’ by New Order,” you said. “That’s my favorite song. It’s a really nice tribute to a late friend. I listened to it a lot after…after Starcourt.”
Both your mother and brother had died in the Starcourt Mall fire, leaving you, your father, and your sister behind. Your grief ebbed and flowed like the tide, never fully leaving you.
“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Steve said quietly. “I know it’s been hard for you.”
You weren’t really in the mood for condolences right now. You just wanted to sleep.
“It’s fine,” you said. “Listen, this was weird. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait! Do you have it on cassette—”
You slammed the phone back into its cradle.
“What a nut,” you muttered, before stumbling back to bed.
***
A couple days later, Steve and his friends were headed to Reefer Rick’s boathouse to deliver food (and beer) to Eddie.
Steve requested they take a brief pitstop.
“It’ll take less than 5 minutes,” Steve said.
“Eddie’s hungry!” Dustin protested. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting.”
“If he’s so hungry,” Max said, eyeing Dustin and Steve with disdain, “then why are you two eating all his snacks?”
Steve sheepishly closed up the container of Pringles he’d been enjoying. Dustin ignored the dig and offered Max an Oreo.
“We can take a quick detour,” Nancy said. “But Dustin’s right, we don’t want Eddie to wait too long.”
“Turn here!” Steve said suddenly. “And park by those flower beds.”
Nancy followed his directions, parking their station wagon in front of a shabby apartment building.
Robin eyed the building.
“Hey, I recognize this place,” she said. “This is where Y/N lives!”
“Y/N?” Lucas said. “Who’s that?”
“Our coworker,” Robin said with a sly smile, “and Steve’s crush.”
“They’re not my crush!” Steve snapped. “We’re friends. I just want to check in on them after all the murders and shit.”
“And give them a gift,” Dustin teased, gesturing to the bag Steve had tucked under his arm.
“It’s not a gift,” Steve explained. “It’s Vecna protection.”
“You think Y/N is a target?” Nancy asked.
“They lost their brother and mom to the Mind Flayer,” Steve said. “It hasn’t been easy for them. And I know they blame themselves. I want to make sure they’ll be okay.”
With that, he exited the station wagon. Dustin, Lucas, and Max started to follow him up the path to the stairs.
“Whoa, whoa!” Steve said when he noticed. “This is a one-man job. Stay in the car.”
“No way!” Dustin said. “We want to meet Y/N.”
“No! They don’t need to meet you right now!”
A couple days after your early-morning call from Steve, you heard a commotion from your kitchen window and pulled open the curtains. You scoffed when you took in the sight: Steve Harrington on the lawn of your apartment complex, berating a trio of younger teens and gesturing toward a waiting station wagon.
You also noticed your other coworker, Robin Buckley, and Steve’s ex, Nancy Wheeler.
“What the shit,” you muttered, before opening your window and sticking your head outside.
“Harrington!” you called. “You’re disturbing the neighborhood.”
Startled, Steve turned around and tucked something behind his back.
“Hey Y/N!” he said, plastering a grin on his face. “Happy Wednesday. Can I come in?”
“Can we come in?” the red-haired girl corrected.
“How about I come down,” you called. “I wasn’t expecting company.”
“Sorry, sorry,” Steve said. “But I have something for you.”
This was…suspicious. Even more suspicious than his strange call from a couple days ago. But curiosity got the better of you, so you closed up your window and met Steve outside.
Before you could even say anything, a curly-haired boy in a trucker hat stepped in front of you and stuck out a hand.
“Hi, I’m Dustin. Steve’s best friend and wingman.”
“Nice to meet you, Dustin. I’m Y/N.”
You greeted Robin and met Steve’s other friends, all while the man in question continuously rolled and unrolled the top of a brown paper bag—a nervous tic.
“So!” you said, turning to Steve. He shooed the others back to the station wagon as you said, “I take it, that's for me?”
“Yes!” Steve said. “I got you a gift.” He handed you the bag.
You opened up the bag and peered inside. Once you saw the gift, your breath hitched in your throat.
A brand-new cassette of Low-Life by New Order. The album “Elegia” is on.
“You got me the cassette,” you said, looking up at Steve with a furrowed brow. “Why?”
“Just…because,” he said. He couldn’t seem to look you in the eye. Why was he so nervous? Why was he giving this to you in the first place? What did “just because” mean, exactly?
You knew you should thank him, but you could only stare at the cassette, transfixed.
You thought of all the times you’d listened to the album on vinyl, sobbing, overwhelmed by grief and guilt. You thought of how your last conversation with your brother before he died on July 4th was a stupid argument, ending with you telling him you hoped he’d drop dead.
And then he did. And so did your mother.
Small drops of blood splattered on the cassette, covering the band’s name.
It took a second for you to realize it was a nosebleed. Your nosebleed.
“Aw, shit,” you said, snapping out of your grief spiral and quickly wiping the blood with your sleeve. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to space out for a second. Thank you, Steve. This is really—Steve?”
Steve grabbed the cassette and opened the box with shaking hands.
“Where’s your Walkman?” he demanded.
“What?”
“Y/N! Your Walkman!” Steve shouted. “Where is it?”
His shouts caught the attention of his friends, who had been listening to a news bulletin on the radio and whispering conspiratorially.
“I don’t have it anymore!” you said. “I gave it to my sister.”
“What’s going on?” Robin asked.
“Walkman!” Steve said, whirling around to the group with a wild look in his eyes. “We need a Walkman!”
“I have one in the glove box,” Nancy said. “Just hold tight.”
Nancy rushed to the car.
“Jesus, Harrington!” you said, confused at the urgent need to listen to New Order right this minute. “What the hell is wrong with—agh!”
You felt a zap! of pain across your skull. You winced and rubbed your forehead.
“Headaches,” Lucas whispered.
You didn’t like how Steve’s friends were looking at you—like you were a bad omen.
“Why are you all looking at me like that?” you snapped. “Seriously, what is happening?”
“Y/N, listen to me,” Steve said, voice strained as he tried to keep calm. “Nancy’s going to let you borrow her Walkman, okay? And you need to listen to ‘Elegia’ on loop.”
“Why?”
“It’s life or death!” Dustin said.
“A song is life or death?”
“Yes!”
You rolled your eyes as Steve loaded Nancy’s Walkman with Low-Life, but allowed him to put the headphones on your head and press play.
The soft opening melody of “Elegia” swirled into your ears. Despite how stupid this seemed, you loved the song. It did soothe your headache, albeit only slightly.
Steve said something to you, but you couldn’t hear. You lifted off one of the headphones.
“Keep listening,” Steve repeated. “Anytime you get a headache, or a nosebleed or…or hear a clock, just listen to ‘Elegia.’”
None of this made sense. But you agreed to keep listening to the song, as much as you could.
Dustin heard some kind of SOS message on his walkie-talkie, and it was time for them to go.
You could tell that Steve didn’t want to leave. As the others piled in the station wagon, he hesitated, and glanced back at you.
“Where are you guys off to, anyway?” you asked, pulling the headphones down around your neck.
“Probably hiking,” Steve said. “Or maybe a boat ride on the lake.”
You could tell he was lying. He didn’t look headed for a fun day outside. He looked scared, face ghastly pale. He tapped the fingers on his right hand on his thigh, drumming out a frantic melody.
“Cool,” you said. “Um, you sure you don’t want to stay? And listen to New Order with me?”
Steve smiled but shook his head.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’ve got to take care of these knuckleheads. But maybe another time, we can—”
“STEVE!” Dustin screamed from the station wagon backseat. “LET’S GO!”
With that, Steve mumbled out a goodbye, shooting you one last concerned look before climbing into the car.
“Elegia” ended, and “Sooner Than You Think” started to play.
You watched the station wagon zip off toward its next destination. You rewound the tape to the beginning of Side Two, beginning “Elegia” once more.
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