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Screaming - everything that a typical night at your household endured. The constant arguing between you and your parents about the future, about your dead-end life in Hawkins, about anything you wished to do or not do was the topic of every single night of your life. Everything you did wrong was a side remark, snarky comment, or just a big fuck you to your face.
The neighbors know but don’t say anything, no one wants to be bothered by your constant family crisis. The big houses that lined the upscale part of Hawkins kept big secrets, hidden tales, and many children feeling isolated. Nothing short of the ideal American life.
Your mom works late nights at the hospital. Sleeping all day, needing the happy pills to take the edge off. Your dad is a deadbeat drunk with the biggest law office in Hawkins. Taking poor people’s money for his own personal gain.
You hated it.
You hated your house, you hated your family, you hated your life, but most of all you hated yourself .
The slamming sound of your heavy wooden door during your angry fit shakes the whole house. The overwhelming rage boiling through your bloodstream, heavying your breaths. You feel like screaming, the frustration oozing out of you as you pace back and forth in front of your bed.
The desire to be able to tell them how you feel, to try to make them understand, but the courage you so desperately needed was nowhere to be found. Sinking into your bed, the overwhelming sorrow replaces the anger that once fueled your delicate frame. The constant fighting was beginning to leave a permanent mark. No one was there for you, no one helped you, no one cared.
No one…except Steve.
The instant thought of him brings a goofy smile to your face. He was always there for you even on all the days you pushed him away. He came back, every single time . Steve understood what it was like to have a comfortable life yet have it crumble underneath your feet.
The cold air coats your skin as you make your way out of the window onto your roof. Breathing in the fresh air, letting it cleanse your mind. The roof was your safe haven. Away from your parents, away from the pressure, away from the world. The stars are the only things to decide your fate.
Pulling your legs to your chest as your mind continues to race. Feeling like a waste of space. If only the world could disappear when you close your eyes, even if it was only for one night.
The sound of a branch breaking and a grunt gains your attention. The never ending feeling of wanting to be alone to wallow in your self-pity quickly washes away when you see the brown, bushy hair and bright smile of Steve Harrington. Friends since grade school, Steve Harrington. Prom King, Steve Harrington. Dates every girl in Hawkins expect you, Steve Harrington.
Trying your best to cover the giggle that slips through your lips as you watch him struggle to pull himself onto the roof. Finally finding his footing, he straightens out his clothes, smiling as you watch him. Wondering how he never got caught by any nosy parents of the girls he would sleep with.
The night sky perfectly captures his features, the light of the moon dancing across his face and figure. Your heart sinking for a second time tonight but not over the tension of your family, but over the sight of Steve Harrington. Everything you ever wanted, Steve Harrington. Perfect body, Steve Harrington. Last thought of the night, Steve Harrington.
Plopping beside you, shoulders grazing against one another, your body tenses over the subtle touch. Reaching into his pocket and pulling out the half-smoked cigarette, probably stolen from his mom. You watch as he brings the bud to his lips, holding it delicately as the flame lights the charred, black end. Inhaling , letting the smoke fill his empty body and mind, handing you the cigarette on the exhale.
This was a common greeting between you two, no words needed to be spoken, the overwhelming feeling of comfort as you both share a cigarette, watching the stars and life pass right before your eyes.
Understanding each other on a deeper level, both from wealthy families, both completely broken. More alike than you would care to admit. His hand rubbing across his face then his hair, pushing the length back. His face now in full view as you study his stare, knowing a million thoughts are crossing his mind.
“Dude,” his voice calling for you. Casually rolling your eyes at his endearing name.
“Today just sucked.” He continues as you return the cigarette. “Remember Doris, like Boring Doris from 6th grade. Yeah? Well guess what? She’s hot now. Like extremely hot !” He begins to babble, waving the cigarette around, “So…she comes into the store today and you know I’m working my charm on her and then she rips me a new one over never giving her the time of day back in school and how I’ve always been a pig. The whole situation was ridiculous!” Taking another hit, holding the smoke in for a brief moment before slowly letting it out.
You hum in agreement, trying to keep yourself from laughing. You knew how he was in high school. You just couldn’t believe it was Boring Doris and not you to tell him off.
He takes the cigarette from his mouth, holding it between his pointer and thumb, “and another thing, Robin was really getting on my nerves today. She just has this stupid matter-of-fact attitude which I definitely do not need. She bosses me around constantly - well I mean, I know she’s my superior, but I don’t want to be bossed around all day. I do the job just fine .”
He laughs at himself, knowing the last thing you wanted to hear was him complaining. He glances at you, meeting your stare, the ends of his lips curving, “So how are you?”
“The same.” You answer. He knew what you meant. It was the same answer every night. His gaze diverts as he thinks of anything to try to make you feel better. He hated seeing your quiet, hated knowing how toxic your life was.
Passing you the cigarette before laying on his back. His forearm becoming the barrier between his head and the roof. The cold, hard shingles scratching the back of his arms.
“Do you ever wish to go back to high school?” His raspy voice fills the peaceful air.
“Kind of.” You hesitate, there was part of you that wanted the simplicity of high school but the other part of yourself didn’t want to go back to that hell hole anytime soon.
“I do. Like all the time . Before things got bad shit crazy in Hawkins.” You were puzzled by his last statement, sure Hawkins was not the best place to be but it wasn’t the craziest place on Earth. You dismiss the comment, letting it slip into the breeze that passes by.
You take another drag, emphasizing, “I think you just miss Nancy.”
“No.” His head cocks towards you, “It’s not always about Nancy.” He tries to explain even though his tone suggests otherwise. Definitely not believing a word that just came out of his mouth. Your head whips to look at him laying down, his eyebrow rising in disbelief.
“Ok, ok, maybe it is a little bit about Nancy.” He shakes you off, “but she was my first, I don't know, love ? I guess that would be the right word. I know you're cold-hearted but some of us want to have someone else in their lives. You know until death do us part and all that shit.” He shouts the last part into the universe, holding onto the hope that it will come true.
“I’ve loved someone before.” Exhaling the smoke through your nose, tapping the bud with your thumb to remove the tobacco hanging off the tip.
“Who, David Bowie?”
“I wish.” you scoff, taking another moment before you continue, “Some guy I knew. He was pretty cool.” The words hanging off your lips as you lie back next to him, your shoulder now touching this time.
Still staring at you, Steve furrows his eyebrows, “Okay, who is this guy you are talking about? You have never mentioned liking any guy since we’ve been friends.” His hands expressing his emotions.
You take another hit before passing him the cigarette. You don’t say anything to further the conversation, how were you supposed to tell him that the one guy you have loved is right next to you? The one person you actually care for was sitting with you on your roof sharing a cigarette. He was clueless and you were hopeless.
“How’s Mr. Y/L/N?” He asks, turning the conversation elsewhere.
Gulping at the sudden feeling of helplessness that came sweeping over you, “Drinking himself to death downstairs.”
“Did you guys get into it tonight? You seem a little quiet.” Steve points out, his hands now resting over his stomach.
“Not him. My mom.” Shutting your eyes, hearing the echoing of their voices in your head, “but he was there to make his opinion heard like always.” You further explain, your tone shaking as you try not to cry.
“Arguing about the typical stuff?” He continues to inquire. He knew you were trying your best to keep it together. His fingers reach out to brush against yours. This small sign of relief helps you finally catch your breath.
“You don’t have to listen to them, Y/N.” He reassures you, his hand now fully holding yours, squeezing as he silently tells you that everything is going to be fine.
“I know.” You pause, sitting back up, your hand shaking from his grasp, “I kind of feel like I am going nowhere though.”
“Hawkins is a dead end.” He follows you. “We should totally leave this dump behind,” his eyes beaming, “Just you, me, and the open road,” his hands extended in front of him.
“Like you would ever leave Hawkins.” You note.
“I would if it made you happy.” His voice is low, his eyes kind as you meet his gaze. “I really would move the whole world around to make you happy.”
You could feel the tears beginning to accumulate. Did he really mean that? His eyes move, studying your face as you both just stare at each other. Neither of you know what to say or how to move on. Steve’s comment lingering in the night sky, his lips curl upwards.
“I wish you wouldn’t look at me like that.” You whisper.
“Like what?” He tilts his head, his big eyes overfilling with some much love and tenderness that you almost don’t know what to do with yourself.
“I don’t know,” you hesitate, your finger picking at the dirt underneath your nails, “Like you could love me.” The words barely fall into a coherent sentence, barely wanting to speak the words into existence in case it messes up the one good thing you have.
“And what if I told you I do love you.” A statement, not a question. He was not asking you if you believed he loves you or not, he was telling you that he does, with every fiber in his being.
Leaning into you as your body tenses underneath his touch. He pulls your chin towards his lips as your breaths intertwine. His plump lips moving against yours, putting you into a trance as you can’t believe that Steve Harrington is kissing you.
Pulling away every so slightly, his warm whisper still heating the area between you both, “Honestly, I think I’ve loved you since Matthew Zander’s party freshman year.” He chuckles as he leans back to get a better view of you, the huge smile engulfing his expression, “Yeah…you were wearing this god awful puffy dress and I just couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
“You’re joking.” Your face immediately goes into your hands because of the embarrassing story.
He reaches out to you, your head lifting to meet him, “I’m not. I wouldn’t, Y/N. I have loved you for so long that at times I didn’t even believe it. I just thought it was us being friends.” His words were sweet, “But then I realized that friends don’t picture their friends naked,” and then typical Steve Harrington has to speak, winking as the deadpanned expression washes over you.
He takes a breath, looking once more at the emptiness in front of him then back to you, “Let’s say in one year, we promise to move to New York, even if we only have a dollar to our names. I am not being stuck here in Hawkins forever and neither are you.” He bumps into you.
“You promise?” Questioning his intentions, holding out your pinky finger towards him.
He chuckles over your childish gesture, latching his pinky in yours, “Yeah, I promise.”