steve harrington realizing that he’s got no purpose if he’s not protecting the people he loves from outer-dimensional beings, and has a minor (read: major) spiral about it post-vecna & the party fixing everything. he’s just a regular ole 20 something with no purpose— his friends are all in school, except eddie, who managed to pick up an apprenticeship as an electrician; putting all of that wire knowledge to use (just not in cars, he hasn’t hotwired one since 1986 and he’d like to keep it that way si vous plais) and making the rich houses have even cooler guts than they deserve.
the kids end up graduating (their first tries) and heading as one little pack to the same school (don’t ask me which, i’m a college drop out) and steve, eddie, and rob end up staying just outside of indy. rob finished school early, because of course she did, and she found that she may have a knack for hanging around high schoolers, so why not teach them how to become polyglots like she is?
steve still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing— he bartends at a little club in the gayborhood, because they went there so often that the bartenders just kind of pushed him into it, and don’t get him wrong— mixing drinks and flirting all night is super fun, but it also… is kind of depressing? even if he gets to be around people like him and see them happy— he knows that a lot of alcohol and drugs causes that happiness and he wants so badly for his people to be out and proud and not murdered for it. but he can’t do that,, so he does the next best thing.
he talks with one of the regulars, andy, who owns a little tattoo shop on the corner, and andy invites him to come check it out. so he does the next day he’s free, and holy fucking christ. tattoos aren’t his thing— at least not on himself, but on other people they’re gorgeous. and they’re painful, but you’re turning the pain into art and you get to live with it in your skin and look at it and think about the fact that you’re here and you made it and you fucking survived. and people purposefully put scars into their bodies? and not in the i-battled-literal-other-dimensional-beings-and-won kind of way, or the i-battled-my-personal-demons-and-won kind of way, which both are things he’s dealt with so fucking intimately— but in the i-will-decorate-this-flesh-prison-and-make-it-a-castle kind of way, and that’s fucking beautiful. queer people taking their bodies and making them into art with ink and hot metal and needles and the love that they have for each other and the passion and the fucking spite at the world that keeps them going and making their presences KNOWN.
and maybe he gets some piercings while he’s there— it’s fascinating and feels so weird and freeing when the needle punctures his flesh and the jewelry goes in— and now he’s got a shiny little ring hanging through his earlobe; his nostril; his lip.
he learns that piercings take time and effort and care and that he has to treat himself with love to be able to heal— and that he is deserving of that love and care and dedication, especially from himself.
he keeps going back, maybe not always to get stabbed, but to watch others have it done. to see how different people’s anatomy takes different piercings, how he can’t have a piercing through his cheeks because he bites them too much when he’s anxious, but the girl that just left got both of hers done and they looked good. they fit her face, like little shiny dimples.
eventually, the piercer, killie, asks steve when he’s going to help them with their needles and their piercings— and he doesn’t know how to react because he hadn’t even thought about it and yet… maybe he could help other people fall in love with themselves and their bodies and help turn them into art one day
maybe he could be a pretty boy with his scars and his metal and his missing chunks and his polos and his jeans and his sneakers.
387 notes
·
View notes
❀ ゚. ༄ ┊ 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐔𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 ! ( 𝐩𝐭. 𝐢𝐯 ) ;
characters : cyno / alhaitham / kaveh
a/n : hiii welcome back campus encounters where everyone is a clown
pt. i / ii / iii
↬ cyno ࿐ ࿔
you don't know what to expect in law school. you really don't. you expect high stakes, tension in the air. you expect competition, harsh professors who purposely try to weed out the "weak" and make the class excruciatingly difficult. you're not entirely wrong, you suppose, but the last thing you would imagine is-- well, cyno.
your first impression is entirely wrong. however, you have also known him for-- you glance at the clock-- two minutes.
a sharp gaze, head held high. he radiates an intimidating aura, holds himself to something more grand. you don't have intentions to make small talk; you're too tired for an 8:30am class, anyway, and you hate to admit that he almost frightens you. the professor runs out for a moment. brief technical issue-- something like that. you're already zoning out.
in that small frame of time, the lecture hall comes to life, fills with a thousand conversations at once. you ignore them all, absentmindedly skimming the syllabus. you fail to see cyno's eyes trained on you. intent. focused.
"i guess there's been a...law-l in this class."
you freeze. something in your fight or flight instinct activates. the voice came from your right. cyno is also on your right. surely that wasn't him, right?
right?
you swallow hard, slowly turn your head to look at him.
god. you hope that wasn't him. 8:32 am and you are subjected to inhumane crimes in your introduction to law class. red eyes bore into your soul. his face is blank. you don't know what to make of this.
"you know. like lull. law-l."
it doesn't work that way, you think, and the exasperation almost meets your visage, but you keep it at bay. can't hurt this stranger's feelings, after all. there's something akin to hope in those crimson hues, barely on the surface, but ever so present.
you purse your lips, unable to figure out this delicate situation. you could change this man's life forever. what if you make this future lawyer feel like a clown? what if he dropped out? you are not being dramatic, by the way.
you purse your lips, tight, utterly amused and defeated by the ridiculous predicament. you stare at each other, dead silent.
you laugh. you don't know why, but you do, and maybe it's because of the way he comes off so serious, maybe it's the way you can practically see the hope that his pun will get a reaction.
you may also be delirious. maybe.
"oh, you are hilarious."
cyno smiles. somewhere, he feels tighnari's soul shrivel in the depths of despair.
"no, i'm cyno."
↬ alhaitham ࿐ ࿔
"oh my god." you do not know how many times you have said this in the past ten seconds. twice? three times? a hundred? ( that wouldn't be logically possible, alhaitham says, so you say it again ). "i'm dying. it's coming. i feel it in my bones."
"what is?"
"death."
alhaitham stares at you, deadpan.
"you are being dramatic."
"i'm sorry. i will do it again."
you don't mind literature analysis, not really. it's fascinating-- the way you piece concepts together, discover hidden meaning in seemingly superficial words. it's much easier when you enjoy said literature itself, but when you don't? you may as well throw yourself into the void. suddenly you cannot read.
metaphor to metaphor, symbolism in the strangest of things ( okay, so the kitchen cupboards were pastel yellow and not white in this house, so what? ), you grow frustrated as a nearing deadline approaches, brain absolutely fried from finals. you have ten pages to write. you have two done ( those two are the title page and reference page. so no, they do not count ).
you're not sure how it came to this-- 4am and you're huddled up with alhaitham in the corner of the library, your forehead against the desk, your fellow classmate casually drinking his fifth coffee as if caffeine has no impact on him. he's much better at writing papers than you are, and in all his glory, decided to help you. kind of.
it's been about two hours since you've been working together, and while you appreciate the help, the lack of sleep is finally getting to you. you're burned out, tired, and truthfully, you know this is worth 30% of your grade, but you're about to calculate what your grade would drop to if you simply did not turn it in.
you close your eyes. wooden desk or not, red imprint on your forehead or not, you're about to pass out, right here and right now, except--
the feeling of his hand against your back, gentle. he leans forward, just the slightest bit, speaks in that quiet yet firm tone.
"if you finish this, i'll ask you out on a date."
you sit up at an alarmingly fast rate, throw alhaitham the most horrified look you can fathom. his expression doesn't change much, but you see that slight curl of the lips.
"disgusting. i can't believe you would pull such things on me."
"because it'll work."
you roll your eyes, pinch his cheek before redirecting your attention to the laptop before you.
what an arrogant fool. absolute annoyance. menace. idiot. you hate him, truly.
"i didn't say it wouldn't work."
( fine. it works. funny how you're suddenly awake and how everything suddenly seems to make sense after he proposes that offer. )
↬ kaveh ࿐ ࿔
there are three things you first notice about kaveh.
one. he is pretty. very pretty.
two. oh my god. look at his back. hello.
three. he's sleeping in the library. he's also drooling on his ... sketches?
four. wait. too many things to notice. whatever. maybe you should wake him?
you consider the thought, unsure. you'd hate to be woken by a stranger in the campus library-- it'd be off-putting, you think. you glance at the sketches, take in the sights of the blueprints. intricate designs. gorgeous, really, even if you don't have the slightest clue about anything related to said field.
you'd hate to work so hard on such a thing and have it ruined by...well, drool. you place your hand on his shoulder, touch light and hesitant, and shake him gently. once. twice. five times?
he's not waking. surely you're not going to shake the life out of this stranger, right? it's about another ten seconds before you almost give up, letting out a long sigh of defeat before leaning down the slightest bit.
you're gonna speak to him, speak in very soft tones-- slowly ease him from slumber. he's gonna wake up, you'll back away, smile in hopes of establishing your friendly intentions, and that'll be it. done. boom.
that's the plan, anyway, but when your face gets a little closer to his, his eyes open suddenly. two seconds of eye contact. shock twists into utmost fear.
kaveh screams, shoots right out of his seat. you also scream. your life flashes before your eyes when you see him instinctively grab his suitcase.
"before you get the wrong idea-- you were drooling all over your sketches, so--"
you don't think this really helps. he's blushing furiously, from embarrassment or anger, you don't know, but now he's glancing at his sketches, mostly unharmed, and oh, the panic sets in so much more. you watch, baffled, as kaveh throws caution to the wind, frantically cleans the desk and recovers what he can.
it's about five minutes of this. you keep silent, watch in awe and more-so of shock at how this all played out until he turns towards you. he takes a deep breath. you can tell he's tired, weariness on his features. you almost feel bad.
"did you manage to salvage it?"
there's a flicker of curiosity at your words, though the fatigue almost swallows it entirely.
"it'll be okay, i think." his shoulders drop. he smiles, slightly forced. "thank you for waking me-- uh, even if it happened that way."
you'd normally say sorry ( as much as you can say it in this situation, anyway ) and go your separate ways, but there's something almost bittersweet about him that brings a heaviness to the heart.
"sorry. i really didn't mean to scare you like that." you swallow your courage, offer a hopeful smile. "do you want to go get coffee? i'll buy. consider it another apology."
and there is something-- a shift, a lightening, an ease, and kaveh's expression seems to relax at your offer.
( yes, you do go out for coffee. it's one of many future caffeine runs, you both call it, and it's the beginning of a chaotic friendship of sorts. )
taglist : @oshitgirlie
╰ ♡ ;; taglist form !!
323 notes
·
View notes