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Queers tended to gravitate toward each other. That’s what Nancy said when Steve came out to her, or something along those lines.
“I used to have sex with Jonathan,” Steve had told her. They were sitting under Skull Skull Rock, the Steve-made makeout spot’s Upside-Down equivalent. Steve was high when he named this one. He was horny when he named the first.
“I thought so,” Nancy had said. She didn’t seem bothered. “I used to kiss Barb.”
“I thought so,” Steve had echoed.
“Bisexual club?” Nancy had asked. She held out her fist to him.
"Bisexual club,” he’d agreed.
That was Confirmed Queer #3 in Steve’s collection.
—
Steve met Jonathan when he was six years old, if “met” could be the word. Jonathan was biking around Hawkins, trying to learn his way around the entire town. Steve was in his parents’ yard, staring at a baseball like it held the secrets to the universe, which to a six-year-old, it did.
Jon nodded to Steve as he passed. Steve looked up as he went. He was a pretty boy, he remembered. They wouldn’t truly meet for another two years.
Jonathan was nice. Steve said hello to him at school once. Mostly, they just met in the woods. Jon said he was a freak, so they couldn't talk at school, but out in the woods around Hawkins they could do whatever they wanted.
Steve couldn't remember when or how they started talking, he just knew that they did. He did remember how they started kissing, but that wouldn't be until years later, when Steve knew why they couldn't talk at school and Jonathan only looked sad when he saw him.
They first kissed when Steve was twelve. Jonathan was eleven. They hadn't met up in a long time. It used to be daily, once. That time was an accident, but the kiss wasn't. They both wanted it, and they both knew they could say it.
Actually, Steve was Jonathan's first kiss, and Jonathan may have been the closest thing Steve had to a first crush.
After the first kiss, they didn't stop for a long time.
—
Robin knew about Steve. Of course she knew about Steve. Everyone knew him—the golden boy of Hawkins, straight as an arrow. "A broken arrow," he told her later, but she didn't know yet.
Steve was an idiot, but he wasn't always oblivious. He saw the girl in Click's class making heart eyes at Tammy Thompson, even if no one else did. He was glad no one else did. Robin was a geek; she didn't need to be a fag, too.
Sitting on the floor of the bathroom, Steve didn't tell her. She spilled her guts to him from the truth serum, but Steve didn't know his own truth. He did know Tammy was a dud, though. Obviously.
—
Mrs. Byers always knew. She knew before her oldest son was bringing Steve home late at night and waking up in the morning with bags under his eyes. She knew they weren't having sex, not yet. She knew they would.
Mrs. Byers was the first person to call Steve queer and mean it, really and truly. She said it casually, because she didn't care, and he was so, so glad. She said what he'd been scared was just in his mind.
—
Jonathan was a fling, sort of. Steve was never really sure. He was nice, and the sex was good, and Steve liked their time together. That wasn't dating. Was it?
Nancy wasn't a fling, but maybe it was because she was a girl. Because they could go on dates and kiss in public and be together.
When Steve started dating Nancy, he stopped not-dating Jonathan. Jon got it. He didn't want to lie. It was simpler to just stop.
And then Steve broke Jonathan's camera and everything stopped making sense. He was pissed, right? He was supposed to be pissed; they both were. They weren't supposed to lie, or keep secrets. Steve-and-Jonathan and Steve-and-Nancy and Nancy-and-Jonathan were supposed to be separate. They weren't supposed to be having confusing feelings and maybe-cheating and getting maybe-jealous. Steve didn't even think he was jealous, he just felt betrayed. His people were dating and neither of them told him. That wasn't how it worked.
With the start of Nancy-and-Jonathan, Steve was no longer a thing. That was the best way he could frame it for himself; they were together so he was not.
He tried not to let the changes bother him.