Chapter Text
“How could I hate her? She's such an angel. But then again, kinda wish she were dead…” -Conan Gray
Hawkins; September 1983
“ No, Tommy, you don’t understand,” Steve leaned back against the locker, palm of his hand drumming against the cool metal. The dull thumping caused vibrations down the row, much to your distaste. “This girl, she’s pretty great.”
“Well, if she’s so great,” Tommy Hagan replied, arms crossed with a raised eyebrow, “why don’t you bring her ‘round, Stevie boy? Me and Carol can show her a good time.”
“It’s not like that, dude.” Steve waved his hand to brush off his best friend’s comment. “She’s…different, you know? I don’t- I don’t know. I think this might be something special.”
“Oh, here we go again.” The shorter boy rolled his eyes before he cleared his throat to mimic the older boy’s tone. “‘She’s so special, Tommy, I think she could be the one. But I won’t ever tell you because she’s not even real–’”
“She’s real!”
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you ever bring her to anything, huh?”
Mystery Girl had been the talk of the hallways for Steve’s little friend group ever since you had all returned from summer break. From the minute the King wandered back into Hawkins High, a lopsided smile practically plastered across his facial features, everyone was determined to learn more about the person responsible for this endless happiness. Out of the dozens of students in the school, someone had to know something .
In a way, they were right; someone did know.
You knew exactly who it was that was making Steve so happy. It was one of the benefits of being neighbors in such a small town. Except nowadays, you felt as though it was more of a curse.
After Steve had finished his trek through the plains of puberty, things couldn’t have been better for him in terms of dating. Gone were the nights of backyard sleepovers staring up at the stars or movie popcorn fights in the dark. Those times were instead replaced by different pairs of traveling hands in the backseat of a BMW or quietly whispered confessions during midnight swims that dissolved faster than sugar in water. No longer was Steve Harrington your well-kept little secret; he belonged to the masses.
It wasn’t as if you were a stranger to seeing different girls passing in and out of the great halls of House Harrington, but you had to admit seeing Nancy Wheeler was a bit of a surprise. The first time you had seen the two of them together, you had to do a double take:
It must have been one of those record-breaking temperature days in Hawkins. Everyone either opted to make the trek to the community pool or embrace the heat on their lawns. You had been one of the few to choose the latter, curled up with a good book and ice-cold glass of lemonade.
You almost didn’t recognize the astute scholar with her pinned-up hair and thin bathing suit strap peeking out from under her zip-up sweatshirt as she delicately hopped onto the Harringtons’ front porch steps. Although, you had to admit the coat did look pretty familiar… If you squinted, you could just make out the patchy paint that spelled out Hawkins High Swim Cl —
Steve had looked surprised when he opened the door to see her, but the wide eyes and parted lips slowly melted into a smile sweet enough to catch flies. When he pulled her into a loose embrace, he locked eyes with you across the street. You could see the brief moment of panic spread across his face. He didn’t have time to address it, though, as Nancy was pulling him inside. You could hear her giggling about him needing to show her the pool as he shut the door behind them.
There was a familiar knock on the door hours later as the night shrouded the neighborhood of Loch Nora in dark shadow. With a sigh, you opened the door to reveal Steve standing with his hands balanced against either side of the frame, eyes locked on the hard cement under his feet. His gaze snapped up the minute he heard the sound of the squeaky hinges.
“Hey!” his words came out in a breathy tone. “Uh, how…how was your day?”
You bit the inside of your cheek, a gritting remark dancing on the tip of your tongue in response to his unexpected presence. “ Surprised you even remembered the address, ” you wanted to say. It was pointless anyway. Like Steve would forget how to cross the street to get to the house that was practically his own once upon a time. “It was fine, I guess.”
“Oh, uh. Good.”
The two of you stood in silence for a few minutes, neither daring to utter the first word of the next conversation. You took your hand off of the doorknob to scratch at your upper wrist; a slow sharp intake of breath soon followed. “So, is there something you needed or…” you pressed, “you just making wellness visits now, Harrington?”
The boy before you blinked a few times, as if he needed a reboot to his system. “Um,” he started. “Look, that thing you saw before— at my house—”
“You mean your minor panic attack? Yeah, that kind of rings a bell.”
A light flush coated Steve’s cheeks at your words. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“It was pretty bad. But listen, if you’re here to talk about Wheeler…” you allowed your voice to trail for a moment. You rolled your lower lip up between your teeth and gave a slow nod. “You two seem pretty close; surprised you let her wear your jacket—”
“We’re not telling anyone,” he cut you off abruptly. “Me and Nancy. We’re uh, not saying anything about us yet.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“She isn’t ready to tell anyone about our relationship.”
You felt your mouth drop into an ‘o’ shape. This was new. Usually when a girl manages to snag a date with the one and only King Steve, she couldn’t wait to blab it about your hellishly small town. The fact that Nancy Wheeler wanted to keep him under wraps spoke volumes; maybe there was something the two of you could agree on.
“How do you feel about it?” you immediately regretted asking.
Steve blinked for a minute as he processed your words. It had been a while since the two of you have had a conversation like this. He must have thought you forgot about him. He wasn’t entirely wrong; you had forgotten what it was like to see Steve be vulnerable, but you weren’t sure you would ever be to do the same again.
“Fine, I- I guess?” he offered, voice catching slightly. He wiped at his forehead with a free hand. “It’s a bit stressful, you know? To not tell people? But, I mean, she’s worth it.”
There was a slight ache in your chest but you nodded your head. “I just hope she gives you what you’re looking for, Steve.”
“Yeah, me too.” The sticky sweet smile which clung to the boy’s lips had the late July night air feeling stifling. You needed to put an end to this conversation and fast. You couldn’t let yourself get sucked in…not again.
“Well, goodnight,” you stammered out before shutting the door in the face of a now very confused Steve, the vibrations of the wood locking into place being just enough to send tears rolling down your cheeks.
You meant what you had said that day and all of the days that followed. After all of the relationships, the flings, and the past you knew he wanted to put behind him (including you), Steve deserved to be happy. Besides, there were worse people you could think of than Nancy Wheeler. You already had a list that was a mile-long based on his previous romps with Laurie, Becky, and Amy. His ego had grown exponentially in the last two years; it was about time someone knocked some sense into him.
With what you were sure was Nancy’s help, the snazzy “prep boy” Steve made his triumphant return at the start of junior year: khaki slacks and wrinkle-free rugby shirts. It felt strange to see his hair neatly combed and put together after the months it took for him to grow it out. You couldn’t help but wonder how many hair products were now stashed under the bathroom sink at this point. His obsession with the dark locks had only worsened since the start of freshman year.
“Hey,” a voice to your left snapped you back to reality, “you done ogling over Harrington so we can get to class?”
You sighed and flung your hand backward to smack at the chest of the metal-head who seemed to be glued to your side after you initially met in class late freshman year. “I was not ogling .”
“Gee, could’ve fooled me,” Eddie made a show of standing in front of you before leaning closer to peer at your face. “I think– yep, oh yeah, definitely.” He rubbed at his lower lip as though to gesture you should do the same. “I think you were drooling a bit this time.”
“Oh, shut up!” You turned your head to duck into your locker to grab your history textbook. Eddie certainly didn’t miss the way your right hand grew suspiciously closer to the lower half of your face.
“Hey, you didn’t deny it this time. Now we’re really getting somewhere.”
The only response he received was the harsh metallic clang of your locker being slammed shut.
You slung your backpack onto your shoulder and started to walk down the hall to Mrs. Johnson’s history classroom. Try as you might to keep your eyes glued to the patchy linoleum floor before you, your body apparently had other plans. Hazel eyes met yours from across the hall and you noticed Steve lazily began to raise his hand in a wave hello. He could risk the recognition; Tommy was oblivious, still droning on about some party he and Carol were most likely going to crash (which was equally likely to have some disgusting form of booze).
As fast as you made contact, you snapped your attention back to the floor and continued to walk on without a word. There was a squeaking of sneakers from behind you and you heard the sound of your name being called. A second later, a body collided with your back. It didn’t take you long to recognize the silver-ringed fingers which pulled at your waist.
“Jesus Christ! Do you have cinder blocks in your bag?!”
“Seriously, Eddie?” you rotated your jaw with a heavy sigh. With a shrug, you freed yourself from his hold and spun around.
“Sorry!” your friend sounded genuinely apologetic. “You just took off like a rocket after you started making goo-goo eyes at–”
You jabbed a finger against his chest, eyes narrowed. “Munson, if you say Steve, I swear to god— ”
Eddie held his hands up in mock surrender and took a step back. There was a twinkle in his eye that gave you the urge to smack him. To his credit, though, he didn’t say anything on the subject. When you were finally relaxed, he looped his arm behind your neck and the two of you walked side by side to class. At one point, Eddie gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, squeezing slightly.
“You know I got your back, right?” he murmured as you neared the classroom door. “Your little secret is safe with me.”
You could feel your body tensing up again, but you simply nodded with a weak tight-lipped smile. All you wanted to do was enter the classroom and stare off into space for the next hour to avoid this conversation. It happened every so often when Eddie caught the stolen glances between you and Steve in the halls. Since you met, he would tease you relentlessly over the crush you so obviously harbored on Hawkins High’s most eligible bachelor. He never knew the whole truth, though.
Eddie didn’t believe that you and Steve were ever friends until you showed him the “hard proof”: a singular photo from the latter’s sixth birthday party. It seemed more like centuries ago, rather than a simple decade. The photo paper had ripped edges and some creases from where you had held onto it tightly at night, wishing you could go back to the simpler times – days where King Steve had yet to claim his kingdom. Some of the ink had smeared, too, mainly around the edges as you tried to permanently ingrain the memory into your mind. The two of you looked happy in the image; his arms were tightly wrapped around your shoulders and he was sporting the beginnings of what would be the signature Harrington grin.
The picture commemorated your first day of friendship. You had just moved into the neighborhood with your family and had taken it upon yourself to explore. The chattering of mothers and sounds of children’s laughter were enticing as you neared the Harrington household. Curious what the hubbub was about, you crept up and pressed your face against the slats of the wooden fence surrounding the backyard. There in plain view was your soon-to-be chubby-cheeked, floppy-haired best friend smiling around a cake much bigger than he was. If you had strained your senses hard enough, you would have been able to smell the smokiness of the six freshly extinguished candles.
The only problem your six-year-old self had failed to take into account was an utter lack of understanding when it came to physics. By leaning on a clearly unlocked gate, you had found yourself falling flat on your face into the backyard grass. You didn’t cry; it didn’t hurt. Yet Steve was the first to rush over to make sure you were okay. He would later reveal as you grew up that he swore he wished you into his life.
“I remember thinking,” he had remarked one night over a shared stolen glass of wine during one of his parents’ endless night time soirees, “‘I’d really like a best friend.’ And then bam! There you were, just like a shooting star!”
You had let out a soft puff of air from your nose in amusement. “With just as much grace as one, I’m sure,” your voice dripped with slurred sarcasm as you reached over to have your turn with the glass.
You had been his “starlight” ever since. The two of you were inseparable from that very first moment. When Steve lost his first tooth, he was racing straight across the street to show it– and the disgustingly bloody gap it left behind– to you. The day your dad had surprised you with a goldfish, you all but dragged Steve through the front door to see Mr. Sparklefins in your room. You were there for the first time his parents forgot to call for his birthday, too. The two of you used the wad of cash they had left him to share a large pizza and copious amounts of sugary soda on the expensive leather sofa. You had talked well into the midnight hour that night about anything and everything you could think of. Nothing was off limits; you shared everything with each other.
At least, until Steve discovered there were pretty girls in middle school – pretty girls who were interested in him .
The minute Laurie Harper kissed Steve at Susie Murphy’s party, you lost him to the world of teenage hormones. At first, it was fine. You had the chance to experience dating by living vicariously through your best friend. He would come to you for advice, asking what he should wear and where he should take her on dates. You would try your best to give suggestions; it was ultimately up to him to figure out what to do, though.
A few weeks after Steve and Laurie went their separate ways (although if you asked the former, he’d make it inherently clear that he dumped her) came Becky Taylor. It was an endless cycle, one girl after another. You wouldn’t have had a problem with it if it didn’t start to impact your friendship with Steve. Having dates meant rescheduling monthly movie nights, canceling study sessions at the library, or not meeting outside to begin the trek to school. What was worse was he began to avoid you in the hallways. He would still try to come over for “family dinners” when his parents were out of town every other week, but there were excuses thrown about:
“Sorry, I really have to study for this English test.” (It was really dinner with Becky.)
“I’m just really tired, so I’ll probably just reheat a frozen pizza and call it a night.” (Tommy was hosting a big party at his place that night.)
You tried not to let it bother you; truly, you did. It got lonely without having your best friend to hang around with between classes, though. You were meant to be an unstoppable duo in high school. The two of you had it all planned out: you would study hard and get grades good enough to earn merit scholarships, Steve would excel in sports and earn a business scholarship thanks to his dad’s connections. It would then be one last sayonara to small town Hawkins and hello to a whole new life in a big city university. You could be whoever you wanted to be there; you’d have your own place and make your own rules…it would be just you and Steve taking on the world, just as it was always meant to be.
When Steve finally got a car after earning his learner’s permit– an elaborate gift from his parents who were out of town for the momentous occasion– he at least had the courtesy to take you for a spin…then promptly drop you off to go pick up Lizzie Williams. When you confronted him about not wanting to spend time with you, he just shrugged and promised to come over that weekend (big surprise, he didn’t).
“Why are you being like this?!” Steve had pressed the next day, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. He had just dropped you off in your driveway after school before needing to run off to a basketball practice. “I just went for a drive with Lizzie! I came back .”
“By the time you got back home, it was too late to do anything. That’s how it always goes, Steve. We barely get to hang out anymore as it is,” you argued. “I’m so sorry that I wanted to try and spend time with my best friend .”
“We hang out!”
“This week?” You raised a questioning eyebrow. “Because I’d love to know if I’ve missed it.”
Steve went silent. His eyes were fixated on the small pine tree air freshener you had gifted him when he passed the test. It was still swinging side to side even after he pulled up the mini hill.
“Enlighten me, Steve,” you continued to urge after a breathless hysterical laugh. “Just when did we ‘hang out’? Was it before your date with Lizzie? Or– or Sarah? Oh! I got it; it was just now, wasn’t it? The five minute drive to my place before you rush off to be the star player for Hawkins High?”
“That’s not fair, starlight.”
“Yeah? Well, now you know how I feel.” You blinked away a few tears from your eyes before you turned away. “Maybe just once, I wish it could be me that you were keeping your plans with.”
There was the sound of keys jangling as the soft purr of Steve’s engine faded into a tense silence. Steve took a sharp breath from his seat in the vehicle before you heard the click of the lock. You remained as still as a statue for a moment, lips sucked in between your teeth and eyes locked on the cloudy sky above you. You weren’t going to let the tears fall; you wouldn’t show additional weakness to the one who betrayed you.
The ghost of warmth above your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts, almost as if his large palm was reaching out. He must have gotten out of the car.
“ Please ,” Steve’s voice sounded faint despite his now-close proximity. “Just let me tr–”
You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you bolted up the front porch stairs and slammed the door behind you. Chest heaving as you laid back against the cool wood, you couldn’t help but strain to listen for the BMW roaring back to life. There was a moment where you swore you heard the creaking of that first porch stair your dad was constantly promising to fix, but no knock vibrated the door under your back. You stood there for what felt like hours before Steve’s car started and rumbled off into the distance.
Things just weren’t the same between the two of you after that: Steve made closer friends with Tommy and Carol, and you somehow managed to find companionship in Hawkin’s “freakish” metal-head. It was nice to have someone actually care about you and be dependable when it came to making plans. Unlike your childhood friend, Eddie made an effort to invite you to activities and ask you about your day. He would drive you home in his uncle’s beat up van, which more often than not ended up being parked in your driveway when he joined your family for dinner. It had taken your parents some time to get used to his eccentric personality, but they took to seeing him at the kitchen table.
But Eddie just wasn’t like the boy across the street.
Eddie didn’t know the secret things about you like Steve did. Eddie didn’t have the memories of sneaking out of your bedroom in the dead of night to watch the stars by Lover’s Lake. Sure, he gave you a few free puffs of weed in the trunk of his van, but it never matched the peace you felt being snuggled up in your favorite blanket on the foot of Steve’s bed. His taste in music couldn’t be further from the sweet dulcet tones of ABBA blaring on the stereo speakers in Steve’s living room. No matter how much you tried, you would never be able to replace your original best friend.
What you’d later come to realize was something that made matters much worse: you were jealous.
For longer than you ever knew, you had been in love with Steve Harrington.