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When Steve was younger and in the full throngs of being obsessed with Halloween like every Hawkins child was, the one thing he was never allowed to do was make a Jack-o-Lantern. His mother, always so strict on keeping the house clean and presentable and her son looking shiny and well-groomed, didn’t even need to think about her answer when Steve begged her to let him carve into a pumpkin, because she could already imagine the bright orange guts all over her kitchen counter, the smell wafting through her house and Steve’s skin tinted orange and brown.
But now Steve was 21, living alone and trying to soak up all the Halloween festivities he missed out on as a child, and when you opened up his front door with two large pumpkins in your arms, his eyes went wide and his mouth formed one of the biggest grins you had ever seen, face alight with childlike glee. You walked past him into the small apartment and placed the pumpkins on the kitchen bench, before dropping your bag to the ground and turning to look at Steve, his mouth still open in shock.
“Pumpkins…where on earth did you find pumpkins a week before Halloween?” His voice was soft but rising with excitement, and soon he was moving closer, gaze flicking between you and the ginormous orange vegetables with their twisted stalks.
“I know someone, anyway that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that tonight, you and I are making Jack-o-Lantern’s, Steve.” You walked around the other side of the bench, opening kitchen draws and cupboards looking for the items you would need. Two sharp and large knives, some spoons to scoop out the insides, a couple of candles that Steve keeps for emergencies in case the power goes out, and a black marker.
“Why?” Bewildered, you looked up at Steve as he leaned against the counter, running his hands over one of the pumpkins.
“Why? Because you told me you’ve never made one, not even as a kid. And that’s unacceptable to me, Steve. Everyone, kid or adult, should be allowed to make a Jack-o-Lantern for Halloween, it’s tradition.” You moved back around the kitchen to stand in front of him, taking his hand and leading him to the small carving station you had set up while you talked.
“You did this for me?” His voice was laced with shock and emotion, and he looked at you with so much sudden love in his eyes that you couldn’t help but smile and cup his cheek, warm skin against your palm.
“Stevie, I did this for both of us. So, you could finally have that perfect Halloween experience you’ve always wanted, and so I could see you happy and having fun even if it does mean the kitchen is going to be stained orange for days.” He leaned down and kissed you then, hard and slow like he had wanted to as soon as you appeared with pumpkins under your arms, and you let out a laugh as he did, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing back.
By the time it was dark, and the streetlights had turned on, Steve’s kitchen was well and truly a mess of pumpkin insides, sticky orange juices and dirty utensils. But the two of you did have some home-made Jack-o-Lanterns, candles glowing through the eyes and carved out smiles, ready to be placed on the doorstep.
Steve’s was simple, just like he wanted it, with two large haunting eyes and a razor blade grin that the candle flame flickered through, and as he stared at it, he liked it more and more. And when you passed him a can of beer and leaned against him, he grinned at you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your hair.
“So, Harrington, did you enjoy your first ever Jack-o-Lantern making experience?” You took a sip from your beer as you looked at the two carved pumpkins the both of you had made, standing side by side on the counter, and he squeezed your side gently.
“I think this is the best Halloween thing I’ve ever done.” He kissed you softly on the lips. “Thank you, sweetheart, this definitely beats all the expectation I had.”
And he was right, because for that Halloween, the Halloween of 1987, nothing could compare with making Jack-o-Lanterns with you right beside him, the both of you covered in pumpkin juice and orange innards, sharing funny Halloween stories and making him laugh about all the stupid costumes your parents made you wear. Nothing would ever beat this experience, nor would any other Jack-o-Lantern be better than his first. Steve knew that was always going to be true.