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hawkinsindiana · 6 months

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i have just risen from the dead to bring you an almost paradise blurb. on my small red velvet pillow, you will find 2.8k words of the first day back to school post s1, aka you and steve awkwardly sitting at lunch together, aka the start of the craziest slow burn of all time, aka "wow these poor kids don't know what's coming", aka The Holy Text. enjoy >:)

canon to almost paradise, post s1

—

the ache in your head persists. it’s spread since last night, crawling beneath your skin to encircle your entire skull. if it weren’t for your fist against your cheek, you’d be face down on the table, eyes closed and drifting in and out of sleep. but no, because of course, taking your entire week to deal with… that has you behind on your calculus. even worse, you can barely comprehend the equation in front of you. even even worse, the ruckus in the lunchroom seems louder than usual. you chase a couple of painkillers with some lukewarm apple juice.

“looking worse than usual, henderson,” tommy sneers as he passes your table, trailing behind a couple other members of the football team. hilariously, he doesn’t look too threatening while holding a lunch tray. while you’d usually lash out at him like a wounded animal, some deep-rooted insecurity of yours bruised by his words, you don’t have it in you. today all you’re able to muster is a glare and a raised middle finger. as tommy drifts away, you tug your headphones over your ears and turn your focus back to the papers in front of you — duran duran begins echoing through the speakers.

if you don’t finish this by the end of the lunch period, your headache is only going to grow. you’re probably being a bit hard on yourself; it’s not like the world’s going to end if you don’t get one assignment in on time. anyone would have a hard time handling what you’ve seen. a monster from another dimension. a child with magic powers. a fake body. just the thought of the past week drains what little energy you still have left in you. god, what exactly did you get yourself involved in?

there’s a kick to your boot — you instantly react with a scoff and a roll of the eyes. why is tommy insistent on attempting to ruin your mood today? but when your gaze drifts down, it’s not his shoes you’re met with. it’s a pair of well-worn, yet somehow pristine, nike sneakers.

your eyes shoot up to meet the face of steve harrington. a bit battered and bruised, he smiles sheepishly.

in shock, you tug your headphones down to rest around your neck, the music continuing to play as you stare up at him. steve gestures with his head to the empty seat across from you, repeating his previous question.

“can i, uh, do you care if i sit here?”

confusion shutters across your face as unease crawls across his. it takes you a moment to register what he said and why… until your groggy mind can recall last night, the hospital, and a feeling of forgiveness.

you swallow harshly, nodding once, “uh, yeah. okay. sure.”

as he sighs in relief and mutters a thank you, your eyes dart nervously around the cafeteria. some of the other students had already begun turning their focus towards the scene in front of them, but now a few are getting their friend’s attention — fingers are being pointed and laughs are exchanged. your gut twists; maybe you shouldn’t have said yes.

you don’t know what you expected when steve had implied the two of you should hang out sometime. it certainly wasn’t this — an extremely public display of alliances. all this attention, even if indirect, makes you feel uneasy. if tommy and carol had their sights set on you before, there’s no telling what their wrath could hold next. your hopes of getting through high school quietly are likely out the window. you squirm in your seat.

you’re wide awake now.

uncomfortable doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that settles between the pair of you as steve sits on the opposite side of the table. he tosses his backpack into the seat beside him and it lands with a soft thump; it sounds practically empty. despite the commotion of the cafeteria, silence fills the air — it’s loud enough it seems to drown out everything else. you turn your attention back to your homework in an effort to distract yourself.

steve clears his throat, his fists loosely clenched on top of the table.

“how… how are you?”

your hand freezes, the pencil in your grasp stopping abruptly on the page. it seems like such a stupid question to ask; you have to resist chastising him for it. how are you? you haven’t slept in a day. there’s still blood and dirt under your fingernails. your shoulders ache from the tension being carried in them. every time you blink you see that… thing.

the little voice in your head comes through — you should cut him some slack. after all, he’s gotta be reeling from it too. it seems steve’s actually attempting to turn over a new leaf; he’s just trying to be nice for a change. you can offer him the same courtesy. he did save your life.

“i don’t really know how to answer that right now,” you reply, keeping your gaze glued to the equations in front of you, “give me a week and ask again.”

steve nods in agreement, sighing as he slouches in his seat, “yeah, yeah same here.”

you acknowledge his reply with a hum and decide to shoot him a glance. you wish you hadn’t.

despite the injuries across his skin and the uncertainty that plagues his expression, he really is quite handsome. you know that steve harrington is one of the most fawned over guys at hawkins high, but you never saw the appeal. his attitude and the rumors that circulated the jock wasn’t something you found interest in, not to mention those he kept for company. but now, knowing that there’s kindness and empathy beneath his rich boy facade, it’s almost hard to admit you find yourself drawn to him and his stupid warm brown eyes.

god, it’s so cliche it makes you want to hurl. you’ve gotta get yourself in check, otherwise this could spell bad news for you. from how it sounded, nancy wheeler’s the one he’s pursuing. it’s dumb to think there’s a world where you’re considered more than just an acquaintance. you quickly shove away those thoughts.

“i- uh, have some tylenol in my bag if you need it.”

steve, who winced after another cluster headache came and went, glances up at you through pinched eyes. you reiterate your words, gesturing with your chin towards your backpack — it sits unzipped on the table.

“big pocket.”

he looks apprehensive, “you sure?”

“it’s two pills, harrington, it’s fine,” you reply a bit smartly. you decide to soften your tone, an apology in your words, “wouldn’t offer if i didn’t want to.”

you go back to your notes as steve gives in, thankful for something to help take the edge off. when he goes to return the small bottle of pills to your bag, he opens it to get a better look inside, against his better judgment.

steve already knows you take your studies seriously; it’s about the only fact he can recall about you, if he’s honest. he’s never made an effort to learn anything else. prior to about eighteen hours ago, you were the very last thing on his mind. but today, you’re carrying three textbooks with you — one of them is for a topic not even offered at hawkins high. steve can’t remember the last time he touched a textbook, let alone one for a topic he didn’t have to take. he spots a couple more spiral bound notebooks and a few errant pencils, as well as two novels. his curiosity gets the better of him; he grabs the hardcover.

it’s obviously well-loved and fairly light in his hand; the pages have yellowed over the years. the cover is a light blue with a portrait of a woman leaning dramatically over a fainting couch. steve’s face pinches in confusion, brows furrowing.

“pride and prejudice? isn’t this one of those like stuffy boring grandma books? what the hell are you doing reading this?”

your eyes widen suddenly as your head snaps up to see the horrific sight of him holding your book. steve’s expression also changes drastically as panic takes over both of you — for very different reasons.

“shit, mrs. roberts didn’t assign this, did she?”

“no, it’s… it’s mine,” you reply shyly as you grow self-conscious, your gaze darting between the prized possession in his grasp and his face. of all the things he had to be nosy about, you truly would’ve preferred he pick anything else. the haze of embarrassment begins to cloud your senses, nausea prickling in your stomach the longer he holds it.

relief floods through him at your answer, “thank god. i think i would rather die than read this kinda stuff.”

more confusion takes root. steve glances back down to the book — the pages are littered with sticky notes, like the annotations assigned for english class that he never does.

“so… you do this with your free time?”

more embarrassment. blood rushes to your cheeks and your face heats rapidly from his judgmental tone. his borderline disgusted expression doesn’t help. you can’t find the courage to say yes, but your silence confirms the answer.

so naturally, steve decides to take a look.

in an instant, you’re reaching across the table to snatch it from his grasp before he sees too much. but unfortunately for you, steve’s reflexes are much faster than yours.

“give it back!”

“now hang on just a minute!” he replies, a particularly proud and surprised grin pulling at his lips, “maybe i wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

your hand misses another attempt to grab it from him, your frustration growing more palpable with each passing moment, “i thought you’d rather die than read something like this, huh? what’s changed your mind?”

“well clearly, it’s not just any book if it’s got you of all people so worked up about it,” steve clarifies before moving his hand out of the way once more. he turns his body away from the table, out of your reach, and begins flipping through the pages.

this is it. you’re positively certain you’re going to die of embarrassment. your cheeks have never been so warm in your entire life. your final attempt to steal the book back fails — all you manage to grab is a chunk of his jacket. much to steve’s surprise, there’s even more annotations written in the margins, cramped between the edge of the paper and the text. he manages to stifle his reaction as his eyes scan over your words, which alternate between intelligent prose and what could only be described as unhinged ramblings. it’s certainly an interesting combination. steve peruses several pages before he begins to get a sense that this is a love story.

he whistles, “wow, i didn’t take you for a romantic, henderson.”

“oh my god, would you just shut up?”

steve turns back to face you and your sharp gaze, resting his hand and the book down onto the table. the moment you can, you manage to snag it back, the book snapping shut abruptly. if you could’ve caught one of his fingers between the pages, you would’ve.

he laughs lightly, “listen, i’m not saying that’s a bad thing, y’know. just… unexpected is all.”

you scoff while pulling your backpack into your lap, your tone unapologetically dripping in sarcasm, “glad i could defy your expectations, harrington.”

he continues, trying to dig himself out of the hole he’s found himself in, “no it’s just that you strike me as a… oh, what’s his name… stephen king kinda girl. not that.”

your face flattens into a deadpanned glare as you reach back into your bag. unearthed from below the table is your copy of fire-starter. steve inhales and squints, suddenly deciding to take his time with his response.

he shrugs, “well i was right, wasn’t i?”

you roll your eyes and set the backpack down before returning your focus to your calculus. a low mumble leaves your lips as your shoulders revert to their previously slumped position.

“whatever.”

you decide it was a horrible idea to let him sit with you. maybe you’ll part ways after lunch and never speak with him again. the longer you think about it, the more it sounds pretty enticing.

it takes steve another second to realize he infiltrated some guarded secret of your heart — something that you weren’t intending to share. he sighs and readjusts in his seat, silently berating himself for taking things too far. he’s supposed to be making an effort to change his actions; he just fell right back into form at the first opportunity. this is going to be a lot harder than he thought, but maybe there’s a way to gain back some of your trust.

“there’s a couple of huge bookcases at my house just filled to the brim with books like that. you… you could borrow some of them sometime. hell, you can have ‘em, if you want.”

you frown, face pinching in confusion. you hate that you’re intrigued. your voice is laced with disbelief, “you want to give me your books?”

“oh god, no. they’re not mine,” steve shakes his head, but a small smile curls his lips, “i don’t read much, if you couldn’t tell.”

his joke manages to get a snicker out of you. when you glance up, his eyes are burning into yours and bright. inviting. you swallow harshly.

“they’re my mom’s,” steve clarifies, absently pulling on the sleeve of his jacket, “i guess she liked reading when she was younger, i don’t know.”

“you’re sure she wouldn’t mind?

he laughs and shakes his head once more, leaning forward so his elbows are on the table, “no, i don’t think she’d care. she’s never home.”

there’s a slight drop in his expression that you’d be able to recognize from a mile away. loneliness — the kind that permeates deep into someone’s soul. it gives you pause. you remember how massive his parent’s house is; you can’t imagine how it must feel for love to be absent from every room. suddenly, you’re very thankful to have your younger brother running around.

steve abruptly interrupts your thoughts, “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, i-”

he stops himself from continuing, but you’re unsure why. he pulls his lip between his teeth, struggling to figure out how to finish the sentiment correctly without overdoing it. steve realizes he doesn’t know how.

“it’s alright.”

your forgiveness surprises him — his eyes bounce up to lock onto yours. you might have forgiven him last night in the hospital, but he never expected to receive the courtesy again. there’s only one word that could describe the feeling that washes over him, and he only knows it because he just saw it written in your handwriting. companionship.

to quell his hesitancy, you mirror steve and lean forward on the table, averting your gaze to the pencil held between your hands. you shrug slightly, “i… probably overreacted a little bit too. i don’t show people my books, if you couldn’t tell.”

a smile cracks across both of your faces from your teasing. it feels good. it feels normal. steve moves his eyes down to your hands; the purple polish on your fingernails is chipped.

a beat passes.

“how many did you have to sign?”

when he drags his attention back up, the playfulness you embodied seems long gone, like a distant memory. instead, what he sees reminds him of the girl he met yesterday — a wrinkled brow and sadness that is accompanied by a tremendous loss. the loss of blissful ignorance, of innocence. neither of you are the same people you were a week ago.

steve shakes his head, his focus blank like he’s trying to remember something that occurred years ago, “i don’t know. i couldn’t… after a while, there were so many i couldn’t keep track anymore.”

you hum in solidarity; you think your hand went numb from how many documents you were forced to sign. it feels like all your rights have been stripped away, or like you’re being watched constantly. one wrong move and your life gets torn apart again. you’re barely seventeen — are you going to be living like this forever?

“there was a black car parked outside of my house this morning,” you say lowly, ensuring your words stay between the two of you, “i’m…”

you pause. you don’t know why you’re telling him this.

“i’m kind of scared, steve.”

he nods. a black sedan tailed him on his way to school.

“yeah, me too.”

some semblance of relief floods both of you. neither of you feel so alone anymore.

“i feel like i need a shrink after all that.”

a small laugh bubbles up from your throat. it’s a sound of agreement — even if you didn’t reply, steve would understand you feel the same way.

“tell me about it,” you joke, “i don’t think a shrink could cover it.”

steve grins as he runs a hand through his hair, “right? at least we’d certainly be their most interesting patients.”

you let out another giggle before your face begins to burn bright once more. it feels like you’re the only two people in the room.

#did you REALLY think i wouldn't find a way to absolutely torture you and include p&p in here #steve sir lemme tell you...... you are gonna be ALL OVER THAT BOOK in about three years #steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #almost paradise #almost paradise blurbs

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