Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“How do you do it? I can’t imagine juggling a busy, blossoming career while raising a child.” The woman’s smirk was sharp, her eyes calculating.

“It’s a simple thing really.” Janet Harrington laughed, swatting playfully at the reporter. “I’ve been raising my son to be a proper young man since birth. I don’t have to baby him the way most children are, in fact I refuse to. I find that the new generation, the ones taking care of us when we are senile, are far too soft. How will they take care of me when I’m no longer able, if they can’t take care of themselves? That’s how I developed my parenting method, which you can find in my new book, on sale this Thursday.”

Steve watched his mother with rapt attention from the tv set in the living room. The way she smiled, laughed with such joy, if he closed his eyes he could pretend that she was speaking to him. Of course, she wasn’t, but he enjoyed pretending when there was no one else at home to stop him. Generally speaking, playing pretend was only for actors, that was something he learned by the age of 4. He was now 7 and a half, much too big to even entertain the idea of pretending. It would be another two weeks of touring around to different cities, doing interviews on talk shows and radio shows, before his mother came home. His dad never mentioned when he was coming home at this point, he’d just show up in the middle of the night reeking of brandy and perfume. His parents had a very professional relationship. They knew they each wanted their own careers, that they loved each other and that they wanted a child once, that they fought like crazy when they were together, and that if they didn’t have that child, they’d be divorced. Now they just go their own direction, respecting that whatever happened in the absence of the other was none of their business. 

Steve had learned to adapt from a fairly young age, given no other option. He knew how to do simple things, like how to work the washing machine or how to work the oven without burning himself or the food. He had already known how the vacuum and dishwasher worked, as well as which chemicals were safe to mix for cleaning. When his mother had arrived back to a pristine home, the first time she went away on business, Steve had beamed with pride, showing off his skill with a flourish. He got a scoff in response, of course, as it was normal for kids to clean up, he wasn’t special.  He learned that seeking out that attention was childish. Adults don’t get praise for such basic tasks, why should children?

It was edging into the last weeks of August, the first day of second grade rapidly approaching. His hair had grown a bit too long over the summer, his bangs sneaking over his eyebrows, obscuring his vision. It was time for a haircut. His Aunt Susan tended to cut his hair for him, given her chosen career as a hairstylist, but she never listened to him when he asked her to keep the sides longer, proceeding to cut and style his hair into a proper slicked back bouffant. This time, however, no one was there to take him to get his haircut. He’d already been scolded by a stern looking young policeman, cigarette hanging out the side of a gentle smile, for straying too far from home by himself. He had told the officer that he was out exploring and that his parents knew, but the officer insisted on walking him back home. Thankfully he didn’t knock on the door, a call coming over the radio keeping him from checking Steve’s story beyond a little push towards the door and a kind tip of his hat as he reminded him to ‘Keep out of trouble.’

So, walking the two miles into town was a no go, beyond that he wasn’t even sure they’d be open yet and he couldn’t quite reach the phone to call and ask, a fact his parents must have noticed because they never seemed to call. That is why he found himself sat criss cross applesauce, as his teacher would call it, on the bathroom counter. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror, water from the tap dripping gently onto his socks,  his hands poised with the scissors in the air. Just a little off the bangs, enough to make it easier to see. Oh dear. That was a bit too much. Maybe a bit from the side to- that was much worse. Tears filled his eyes as the scissors clattered onto the counter beside him. Now what?

The baseball cap he’d been given by his grandfather, alongside the baseball mitt that sat collecting dust, finally came in handy. It wasn’t perfect, of course, but it covered a lot of the damage. Second grade was a whirlwind, he was much smarter and faster than the grubby little first graders. He’d made a new friend, one hair like an army man, named Tommy. Tommy with big brown eyes, a goofy grin, and a hundred million freckles, he had counted them himself! He was having a pretty great day, fish sticks in the cafeteria fresh and not overcooked, an A minus on his spelling quiz, the sun was shining, and his parents were coming home, which meant he’d be getting a snowglobe. He loved the little places that lived within those glass orbs. He had a whole bunch of them at this point, one from Paris (His mom always called it Pair-ee), and one from Mt. Rushmore, one even had the Pyramids in it with sand instead of snow. His favorite was a little mountain one from Switzerland with a little goat that teetered around when shaken. This one would be from Buffalo, New York and he was crossing his fingers that it would have a Buffalo in it, it had to have one, right? Why else would it be called that? 

His hands were sweating as he gripped onto the monkey bars, peering down at the ground a little nervously. Was this how the goat felt before Steve would shake his universe? Tommy had made it to the center with practiced ease, so Steve took a shaky breath and embarked over the vast canyon on mulch. Triumphantly he held on, reaching Tommy with a grin. He had done it! He followed his friend, smiling widely as he neared the end of the metal bars. Just as he reached for the second to last rung, his hands gave way to the blistering heat of friction, hurtling him toward the ground. With a metallic ping, he smacked his cheeky smile against the support bar of the monkey bars, blood flowing instantly. He choked out a sob, gripping his mouth with both hands. Tommy stared at him with those wide eyes, before a glimpse of a smirk came over his face.

“What happened to your hair?” He asked, mockingly. “Why is it all patchy like that?” Steve’s left hand left his mouth, clutching onto the scratchy fuzz of messily chopped off hair that his hat was no longer covering. Tommy’s eyes widened impossibly further as he saw a small white square on the ground. “Your tooth!” He held it out to Steve like the purest treasure. “You almost lost it forever!” Steve’s tongue felt around in his mouth, feeling the new hole where his front tooth had just been, the source of the blood. The teacher suddenly grabbed onto his hand, pulling him toward the nurse’s office at the first sight of blood.

***

“If you put that under your pillow, you might find a quarter in the morning.” The nurse smiled kindly at him.

“Do teeth turn into money?” Steve’s brow furrowed. He knew his parents had a lot of money, were they running a sort of lucrative tooth business? 

“No silly, the tooth fairy comes and trades your baby teeth for quarters.” She explained as she wiped the last of the blood from his face. “Now about your um…” She gestured to Steve’s hair. “Maybe talk to your parents and they’ll take you to get it evened out, okay?” Steve nodded with a watery grin as she ushered him back to his classroom, hat in hands. He entered the room to the sounds of gasps and giggles, pulling his hat back on instantly. The rest of the day the other kids poked and teased, calling him all sorts of names until his cheeks were hot and his eyes wouldn’t leave the ground. A few of the older boys had even stolen his hat and tugged at his hair. Thankfully, the school day was coming to an end, hopefully the torment would be as well.

***

“Mom!” Steve shouted, running inside to see her. She was flipping through a rough copy of her book, facing away from him. “I lost my tooth today! The nurse said that if I put it under my pillow, the Tooth Fairy will bring me a quarter!” 

“That’s ridiculous, the Tooth Fairy isn’t real. It’s a made up idea to make kids feel better about their teeth falling out.” She huffed, turning to face him. “Steven Michael, what have you done?” His mother pressed two fingers to the space between her brows. “Why would you cut your hair? You had the most beautiful hair.” She sounded so full of sorrow that Steve couldn’t bring himself to respond. “Don’t ever do that again! You’re acting out in some way to catch my attention, well now you have it. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I just…” Steve sniffled.

“Speak up.”

“My hair was too long!” He wailed, tears flowing as he confessed. “It was getting in my eyes, so that means it’s time to cut it, so I cut it.”

“Listen to me very carefully.” She bent at the waist, closing the distance between the two. “You had such beautiful Harrington Hair and you ruined it. Do you enjoy making a fool of our family? Is that fun for you?”

“No ma’am.” Steve hung his head, lip quivering as the tears dripped off his chin.

“Well now we’ll have to fix it.” She sighed, tilting his chin to look at her. “Stop crying, you did this to yourself.” He sucked in a shuddering breath, trying to control the flow of tears. It would be okay, because she was going to take him to fix it. He didn’t even care if his Aunt would shave the sides too short because anything was better than this.

Almost anything.

Steve sat in front of the mirror, clutching a fist full of soft brown hair, holding against his buzzed scalp, desperately trying to put it back where it belonged while his mother put his dad’s clippers away. The air felt cool on his now much lighter head, despite it being August. At least he matched Tommy now.

***

“Do not make me turn this car around.” Steve whipped a hand into the back seat, breaking up an argument between Mike and Max. “So help me, I will take you both back to…”

“What, you’ll take us back to school?” Mike challenged with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah laugh it up, Wheeler.” Steve squinted in annoyance, peeking in his rearview mirror. “See who's laughing after I drop your ass off at the elementary school where you belong.”

“Whatever.” Mike muttered, crossing his arms and facing the window.

“I love these kids… I love these kids… I love these kids…” Steve breathed to himself as he turned on his blinker at the stop sign. He glanced back in his mirror once more, doing his daily mood check. Will and Dustin were whispering back and forth, pointing at something in Will’s notebook. Max and Mike sat on opposite sides, pouting and glaring out of their own respective windows, Lucas in between them scribbling answers onto his homework. All was normal, with the exception of one. El was sitting in the passenger’s seat, her turn this week despite protests from Dustin. Normally when El was up front, she fiddled with the music and air conditioning, playing with the dials with a small smile. Today, however, she faced the window with a frown, not as intense as Max’s or Mike’s but similar nonetheless. He quirked a brow at her, already planning the stern talk with Mike for making her upset somehow. She glanced over at him, feeling his eyes, and cast a glare at him before burrowing further into the window. Well shit…

***

“Hey El can you hang back a second…” Steve adjusted his mirror nonchalantly as Will quirked his brow, already halfway out of the car. “Nothing bad, I promise, I just wanna chat.”

“Do I have to?” El’s voice was soft, but held a world of hurt. Steve had definitely done something that upset her, but he couldn’t think of a single moment he spent with her that she wasn’t smiling at him.

“We-Well no, of course you don’t have to…” Steve slumped his shoulders. “I guess I just thought I’d ask you something, but if you want to go in, it’s fine.” She glanced over the passenger’s headrest, nodding at Will who finally pulled himself the rest of the way out of the car, permission granted. 

“What do you want to ask?” She had attempted to make her voice cold, but her eyes betrayed her.

“If you’re okay?” Steve sighed. “And what I did that upset you?”

“I will be okay.” She exhaled, staring out at the driveway. “I heard that you were not a nice person before.”

“I… I don’t really know what to say to that El.”Steve frowned, picking at the steering wheel.

“You do not deny it.” She turned to him. “You are okay with being mean?”

“No, I mean obviously I’m not okay with it, but I’m not going to lie to you.” Steve was at a loss for words. There was something in the simplicity of the questions that she asked that stripped him down to his core.

“Then why?” Her expression was one of betrayal, something he understood in a weird way. It’s kind of like meeting your hero. Once you see behind the curtain of a person, really see that they’re human like you, the glamor disappears.

“I was an asshole, okay, I admit that and I’m not proud. I try not to make excuses for it, so the question of why is a little tricky. I guess it’s because my friends were and they were the only people that I had. Maybe I was a little lonely and afraid that if I wasn’t like them, then no one would want to keep me around.” He admitted with a small frown. “Looking back it’s stupid, because I felt lonely when I was with them. They didn’t like me for me but for the house and the parties. Like I said, no excuse.”

“So when people are mean… they are sad?” She was so full of wonder, despite the fact that he wasn’t the person she believed him to be.

“Yeah, well sometimes, sometimes people are just mean, but most often there’s something deeper happening.” He paused, feeling a nagging in his brain. “Is someone bothering you El?”

“It’s not a problem.” She replied quickly, sealing the thought in his brain. “Really, they are just sad.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s ok. Remember, no excuses.” He chewed on his bottom lip. “Do you want to tell me what’s going on? I know I don’t seem like trusted adult material but I like to think I’m a pretty cool guy now.”

“They just say things about me.” She forced a smile. “And they laugh, but laughing is good, laughing means they are happy.”

“At your expense El.” Steve furrowed his brow. “You don’t have to be okay with it, it’s something that’s upsetting, right?”

“It is sometimes.” She sighed, hand unconsciously rubbing at the buzzed hair on the back of her neck. “They laugh and call me Buzz Aldrin. Who is Buzz Aldrin?”

“He’s an astronaut.” He rubbed at his brows. Fucking mean kids and their nicknames. “I can’t legally advise you to punch them in the nose, especially not after the whole… skate thing, but there is one way you can get revenge.”

“How?” She smirked.

“Tell them to fuck off.” He shrugged. “Don’t let them see you upset. Embrace the fact that you’re beautiful and that if they don’t agree, it’s their problem.”

“I understand.” She bit her lip. “What if they are right?”

“What, about you looking like Buzz Aldrin? I don’t thin-”

“About me being ugly?” She interrupted. “Girls have pretty long hair. You have pretty long hair, so does Eddie. I have ugly short hair.”

“El, you’re not ugly, okay?” He smiled warmly at her. “Hair doesn’t make someone pretty or ugly, look at me, I used to have the same hair but was ugly on the inside. Do you think Will is ugly?”

“No, of course not.” Her eyes widened.

“Well he has short hair. Short, bowl shaped hair that Joyce cuts. His hair doesn’t look like most of the kids at school, but he’s not ugly, right?” He smiled, thinking about the rather unfortunate haircut. When he really needed a smile, he pictured Eddie and Will swapping haircuts. “What I’m trying to say is that hair isn’t the game changer, it’s just one part of you.”

“So people who are pretty on the inside are pretty outside?” She smiled. “I think you are pretty inside and outside. You didn’t used to be inside, but you were sad and afraid.”

“Thanks kid.” He patted her shoulder fondly. “If they don’t stop it though, you know what you gotta do?”

“Tell Joyce?” She tilted her head.

“Tell Max.” He smiled. “Trust me, she’ll take care of it.”

“But first tell them to ‘Fuck off’ right?” She nodded.

“Yeah ok, I’m dead.” He laughed, already picturing the phone call home. “But yeah, you know what, tell them exactly that. You might get in a bit of trouble, but if you explain why to Hop you won’t get into trouble at home.”

“Thank you Steve.” She hugged him around his neck. “I have to go inside now. I have homework.”

“Alright Shortstack.” He rolled his eyes, with a playful smile. “Give everyone my love.” She nodded before running inside, closing the car door with the flick of wrist, fast enough that he couldn’t tell if she’d used her powers or not. He pulled away with a smile.

***

“Holy shit this is a goldmine.” Eddie cackled, holding the book high above Steve while Robin pushed him away, craning her neck toward the pages to see. 

“Guys stop, it’s not funny.” Steve whined, jumping for the book.

“‘ Steve wet the bed last night, perhaps he has a bladder problem. ’ Aww Stevie, did you have a bladder problem?” Eddie's face was full of mock sympathy.

“No I-” Steve batted at Robin, finally gripping the spine of the book, pulling it towards himself with a grimace. “Enough of that.” 

“Aww, we were just getting to the good part.” Robin crossed her arms like a petulant child.

“There’s no good part.” Steve scowled, hugging the book to his chest. “Sorry to disappoint, but when your Mom is a shrink and exploits your every movement, the good parts get left out.”

“Come on, is it that bad? I’m sure it’s a lot of mommy issues and Freud, things that aren’t real.”Robin flopped onto the couch with a groan, legs dangling over the back. “I’d love to have someone tell me what all my issues are just so I could know what's making me crazy and what’s all natural, y’know?”

“You lack personal space and ramble when you’re uncomfortable because you feel uncomfortable being yourself around people. Social Anxiety.” Steve huffed, shoving the book back onto the shelf, smacking aside Eddie’s reaching hand. “I don’t have a degree, but there you fucking go.”

“Damn Doc, give it to me straight, is it fatal?” Robin threw a hand over her head dramatically.

“It’s going to be if you’re not fucking careful.” Steve pouted, as Eddie patted his shoulder, earning himself a glare. “I’m mad at you.”

“I’m sorry I read about your bladder, is it doing okay?” Eddie grinned, rolling his eyes.

“Stop asking about my bladder or I will piss on both of you.” He huffed.

“Kinky.” Eddie’s face screwed up in disgust as Robin fake vomited. “Look I get it, well I don’t but I am trying to. I never had a mom to psychoanalyze me, I had Wayne. I’m sorry we invaded your childhood privacy, we won’t do it again.”

“Speak for yourself.” Robin grumbled before sitting up. “Alright draw straws, which of you gets the pleasure of taking me home?”

“I got her, I have to get home anyways.” Eddie grabbed his jacket, leaning across the couch to give Steve a peck on the lips. “Get some sleep tonight.” His tone an odd mix of threatening and loving.

“Nope, now I refuse.” Steve giggled, pulling away from Eddie.

“Don’t make me smother you.” Eddie held up a finger.

“Like with love or with a pillow?” Steve handed him his vest, a new one of course, Steve had kept the original.

“Depends on whether or not you behave.” Eddie winked, reveling in the blush on Steve’s cheeks and the gagging noises from Robin.

“Holy shit, if this is gay rights, you guys don’t deserve any.”Robin stood between them. “Now, let’s get moving, I have chem homework.” Steve walked them out to the van, leaning in for one last kiss before they peeled away with the screeching of the tires. As he headed back inside the empty home, he felt drawn to that damn book. Eddie and Robin had opened a door he hadn’t gone near in a long time, now he was itching to go inside, no matter how much it hurt. His eyes scanned the pages, looking for just one good part, one part where his mother was pleased. He knew it was fruitless, he’d done this many times throughout his life.

Steven cut his hair today, making a show of himself in some desperate attempt at attention due to a personality disorder of some sort. I suspect the narcissism is a result of his father’s genes and acknowledge that he will grow more and more like him every day, despite my gene’s attempt to even him out. I see now, even at the age of 7, that he will be nothing more than a coddled husk of a man one day, loveless and alone.

Steve closed the book.

Chapter Text

The happiest day of my life? The day that my son was born. The pregnancy was not easy, full of morning sickness and backaches. It took 18 hours of labor before he decided to grace us with his presence, all natural of course as pain is necessary for strength. He weighed 8 pounds and 6 ounces, born late in the night of the 24th of April. I remember that he was a very calm child, we instilled sleep training from birth to assure that he’d learn to control his dramatics from the beginning. See, that day was so special to me because it taught me that I could persevere through anything, the tough pregnancy and labor, the early stages of motherhood, getting my pants to fit just right once again, etc.  Beyond that, the happiest day of my life was the day I published the book you’re holding right now. My brain baby, if you will. 

Steve was never the main priority, that was something he came to understand at a young age. It wasn’t the fault of his parents, of course, he knew they were busy people, but with his father’s business and his mother’s career taking off, there wasn’t much time for him. He knew it was selfish but he wished that his parents tried a little harder to make his birthday a special day.

“I never saw the appeal of a celebration just for being born, I brought you into the world, you’d think the celebration would be for me.” His mother would argue, not that he’d disagree. It was just kinda difficult seeing the other kids bring cupcakes and cookies to class, wearing ‘birthday boy or girl’ pins, smiling widely with the joys of aging. See, he knew his birthday wasn’t a loud celebration kind of day, but he just didn’t expect them to forget.

***

“Steven when you come home from school this afternoon you’ll need to iron your dress pants and your button up. We’ll be having a rather special dinner this evening in celebration.” His mother announced to him, over an early morning glass of champagne, a mimosa in essence but not in practice.

“Really?” He widened his eyes in shock as he pulled on his jacket. “Okay!” He couldn’t help the giddy buzz that carried him on his walk to school. They had never done anything particularly special beyond wishing him a good day or telling him how lucky he was to be granted with another year of healthy, wealthy life when others had so little. As he filed into his first class of the day he couldn’t help his knee from bouncing in excitement.

***

“Make sure that you use baking powder or it’ll never rise.” His home ec teacher warned. Middle school was full of exciting new opportunities to learn. He’d known how to cook for a long time, but baking was an art form that he wasn’t as familiar with. Ironically, today was cake day. He tapped the measuring cup holding the flour, leveling it with a butter knife and ignoring the giggles coming from Tommy and Carol. 

“Who knew you were such a housewife?” Tommy laughed as he leaned against the counter top in the mini kitchen that was installed in the classroom. “Will you wash my laundry next?”

“Hey, that's an important skill.” Steve laughed, as he cracked an egg. “And how do you plan on eating if you don't learn to cook?”

“Restaurants exist for a reason dude.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “Besides, my dad says that’s the job of a woman. What do you say Carol, feel like taking over?”

“As if.” She crossed her arms. “We just have Martha cook for us.” Martha was Carol’s housekeeper, she complained about the woman often, but they all knew that she made the best food. “Besides, Steve’s got it covered.”

***

With the ding of a timer, the cake was finished. It wasn’t perfect, but it smelled delicious. There wasn’t enough time to ice the cake, as it was still hot by the time class ended, but the teacher gave them little containers of icing to bring along to eat with it when it was cool. Steve decided to save his cake for after dinner, presenting it proudly to his parents. Maybe they’d even sing. He knew it was unlikely, his parents weren’t exactly the singing types, but a boy could dream.

He drifted through his English class thinking about the possibility of celebration. He was warned to bring his formal clothes to dinner, maybe his parents had scheduled a party and his friends were trying to keep it a secret that they were coming. Or maybe they had hired a clown! No, maybe not a clown, not after the clown that went on a spree killing young boys within the past few years in Illinois. Besides, he was turning 13, he was much too big for clowns. Maybe they got him something, something special! Maybe they were telling him that he was finally allowed to go on a trip with them. He’d pick out a snowglobe for himself to add to his overflowing collection. That would be the most spectacular, best placed snowglobe of all. It would wit proudly on is bedside table, he would shake it every night, dreams full of the moments during the trip where his parents hugged him close, told him he was special and that he was good enough, perfect even and then they-

“Mr. Harrington! Are you paying attention?”Ms. Walker’s voice cut into his thoughts. 

“Uh-yeah.” Steve chirped quickly.

“Then you won’t mind reading the next paragraph?” She pursed her lips at his confusion. “Start at ‘Now, when I say-” and read until ‘-Or, a cook.’”

“Now, when I say that I am… in the h-ha… the habit….whenever I begin…” His cheeks were red as he continued slowly, stumbling over words. “-to grow ha- hazy? Hazy yeah.” He paused, staring at the letters. “Hazy about the eyes, and begin to be over cons-con-c… Mrs. Walker, what’s that word?”

“Conscious Steven, now stop pretending that you can’t read and finish your section, the other children did so without complaint.” She snapped.

“Conscious…” He breathed, willing away the feeling of tears burning in his eyes. “Conscious of my lungs… I do not mean to have it… inf… inferred-”

“Steven, just go down to the office immediately.” The teacher rubbed between her eyes in annoyance. “Would anyone else like to read? Preferably someone who isn’t playing stupid in order to make a mockery of Herman Melville.”

***

“Steven, what’s going on with you?” His guidance counselor exhaled, her breath like stale coffee. “I understand that the transition from 6th to 7th grade is a bit challenging but this is getting extreme.”

“I promise that I’m not doing it on purpose, the words just don’t look right to me.” Steve’s voice came out more whiny than he intended. “I’m not trying to be funny or dumb, it just takes me a little longer.”

“If this problem continues we are going to have to transfer you to the… shall we say, ‘lower education’ English classes.” She sighed, crossing something off on the paper she was working on. “How’s your mom?”

“She’s good! She’s about to launch her newest book, it’s an autobiography.” Steve always felt like he had to be Talkshow Steve when people asked about his mom. It wasn’t that she was a bad mom, bad moms wouldn’t work so hard to make a name and life for their children, that’s what she always said. 

“I do miss our old chats, your mother and I went to the same university, if you can believe it. It’s wild how different the paths can be.” She smiled. “Now according to your file, today is your birthday, is that correct?”

“Yes ma’am.” He beamed. “I’m 13.”

“So grown up! I remember when you were just a baby, honestly most of Indiana, if not the country, does from the book your mom wrote. You’ve been so well disciplined by a true master of her work but I’m sure like any mother she wouldn’t be thrilled to hear about this little…incident.” She closed the notebook she’d been scribbling notes in. “So I’ll make you a special birthday deal, one time only, understand?” He nodded, eyes bright. “You work on your attention seeking problem and make sure to do your school work and I will make sure your mom doesn’t hear about this today, sound good?”

“Yes ma’am!” Steve agreed quickly, knowing that the other option wouldn’t end well. He would just have to study harder, make it make sense, to prove that he was smart like everyone else. He couldn’t mess up his chance for his first ever birthday celebration, no matter how much reading made his head hurt.

***

“You’re joking!” Robin shrieked, smacking hand into his chest. “Tell me you’re joking. He’s joking right?”

“It’s not a big deal.” Steve’s face was warm with embarrassment, but he couldn’t help the smile at Robin’s dramatic reaction.

“Oh my God he’s not joking.” Dustin laughed from beside him. “Steve, it's a huge deal, it’s like a rite of passage around here.”

“Okay well none of you assholes can drive and that’s a real rite of passage so…” Steve crossed his arms defensively.

“Okay but driving a car is marginally more difficult than riding a bike, Stevie.” Eddie smirked as he drew the cigarette back to his mouth. “How the hell did you survive in the Upside Down when we were all biking?”

“I was a little out of it, not gonna lie, but I don’t think what I did really counted as riding. I was more running with the bike and hoping for the best, but it doesn’t matter, okay?” Steve’s patience was beyond wearing thin, he could feel his own irritation in his words.

“It absolutely matters.” Robin said at the same moment that Eddie gave a casual “Fuck that.”

“Stop trying to make this into an opportunity to gang up on me.” Steve pouted as he turned away from them.

“Steve, Holly knows how to ride a bike, don’t you think it’s a little sad that you haven’t figured it out yet?” Dustin rolled his eyes. “It’s really not that difficult, you just need to have someone to teach you.”

“Why, so you guys can laugh at me when I crash and hurt myself? Sounds like a blast, but sadly I’ll have to pass.” Steve whined as Eddie reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Look I get that you’re like… afraid of being embarrassed for some reason, but we’re not going to make fun of you. We might tease you, that’s what friends do, but we won’t be assholes about it.” He rubbed a spot on Steve’s shoulder. “So what do you say, Big Guy, are you up to eat some gravel while you learn how to balance?”

“Fine.” Steve grumbled, arms still crossed. The things he was willing to do for his friends. 

***

“That was… that was really good Steve!” Robin winced as the bike veered out of control onto the grass. “You had it there for a second.” Steve was several yards away, wobbly on the path in the park. It wasn’t going too well yet, he spent more time on the ground then he did on the bike. He scowled in her direction as he dusted himself off, ignoring the small scrape on his knee, he would bandage it later. “Try again!”

“You got this Steve!” Dustin cupped his hands to his mouth, shouting despite the short distance.

“This is so fucking stupid.” Steve clenched his teeth, pulling on the tighteners on the helmet. “This is so fucking stupid !”

“Easy there Tiger, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re talking about somebody specific there.” Eddie leaned against a tree, giving Steve a small smirk, dimples on full display.

“I wasn’t… I wouldn’t call any of you stupid, I just mean the ide-”

“I meant you, love.” Eddie interrupted, walking over beside him. “I know you well enough to know when you’re frustrated, especially with yourself. Give Steve some leeway though, he’s a pretty tough guy.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that flooded his face. “Careful Eds, someone might think you have a big fat crush on me.”

“People have thought worse.” Eddie leaned in to plant a peck on the tip of Steve’s nose. “Now, do you need a little push?”

“Only if you promise not to let go.” Steve rolled his eyes, gripping the handlebars of the bike once more.

“You and I both know I’m going to let go.” Eddie rolled his, quickly glancing over his shoulder. Robin and Dustin were poking at something on the ground, he couldn’t even begin to guess what sort of gross creature they’d discovered. He kept glancing around, feeling the feeling of eyes burning on the back of his head, but saw no one. Maybe he was just paranoid. “Ready love?”

“As ready as I’ll get.” Steve sighed, before beginning to pedal, Eddie holding onto the back of him. As  he continued, he felt Eddie’s grip release, leaving him to sail down the path, balanced but a little faster than he was comfortable with. 

“Yeah!!!!” Robin cheered, dropping the stick. “You did it!!!” Eddie and Dustin gave energetic ‘Whoos!’ as Steve continued to pick up speed, feet getting slightly tangled in the pedals. The hill was rapidly approaching and Steve couldn’t stop, his panicked mind instantly forgetting the braking instructions given several minutes before.

“Ok Steve you should probably… you should stop before that hill!” Dustin yelled. “Ste-Steve!” They watched, running towards him as he flew down the hill, falling from the bike about halfway and landing with a deafening thud against the hard soil of the path. 

“Holy shit Steve are you okay?” Robin’s heart was pounding, spying the blood that flowed from his elbows and his palms. 

“Ride a bike Steve, it’ll be fun Steve. ” Steve mocked from the ground, as he picked bits of gravel and rock from his knees. His jeans were grass stained to the point of ruin. “I fucking hate it when you guys are right.” He cracked a wide grin at their worried expressions.

“You’re a mess.” Eddie chuckled, picking a stick from Steve’s hair. “But hey, at least you had fun before you hit the ground”

“Maybe just stick to steering wheels?” Dustin offered Steve a hand, pulling him into a standing position while Robin fished a pack of bandaids from her bag.

“I’m going to have to, who else is going to drive you brats around? Eddie? Your mom would kill both of you if she found out how fast he drives.” Steve’s eyebrows pinched together in pain at the stinging feeling of his hands and knees. It hurt sure, but it wasn’t the worst he’d been while adventuring with the group so he’d call it a win. As they were walking back to the car, he could swear he saw a flash, whether of lightning or something else, he wasn’t sure.

***

“Sit up Steven.” His mother reprimanded through a tight grin. “You’re embarrassing me. Remember what I always tell you: The way you are seen by others should determine how you see yourself. You can’t see you but other people can.”

“Sorry.” He sat up quickly. The dinner wasn’t quite what he was expecting, if he was honest, the dreams he’d been floating on throughout the day shattered by reality. He would have been thrilled to have some friends there, happy with his family, but it felt a little strange to be spending his birthday dinner with his parents and his mother’s publisher and his assistant. 

“Well it’s a privilege to see you work in real time.” The woman, the assistant, gushed. “You have such a great handle on him, I wish my boys were so well tamed.” Steve couldn’t help but ponder the choice of word. He’d learned the meaning several years before but must have missed an alternate meaning as it was usually attributed to wild animals, not children.

“With enough time and proper encouragement, every child can learn how to be a fit member of society. Elbows, Steven.” She didn’t even glance in his direction, but somehow she knew his elbows were on the edge of the table.

“Tell me young man, do you enjoy playing sports?” The publisher, a gruff older man with salt and pepper hair, glanced in Steve’s direction, eyes cutting holes into his mind.

“Yes sir, I actually play basketball. I’m a-” 

“That’s great son.” The man turned back to Steve’s mother, talking more about her upcoming launch. It wasn’t that he was ungrateful, he just didn’t understand how this was a celebration for him. It felt like a parade and he was the float. Everyone staring and congratulating those that took the time to build the float, surrounded with enough bells and whistles to hide that underneath it all was an ordinary car. He picked at his spaghetti, he hated spaghetti, he was always a fettuccine alfredo kind of guy, wondering when the dinner would finally be over. His father seemed to be feeling the same way if the glances at his watch were anything to go by.

“Did you hear that, Steven? You’re going to be famous!” He was drawn out of his thoughts by his mother’s overly cheerful tone.

“Wait, what?” He gaped before quickly closing his mouth. “I mean, sorry, do you mind repeating that?”

“I’m so happy he’s handsome.” His mother chuckled, hand clenching the back of his chair tightly. “Mr. Herman was saying that he wants to use a photo of you as the cover, seeing how you’re the subject material, isn’t that great?”

“Yes… yes that sounds wonderful” Steve felt the weakness in the fake smile he had plastered to his face. It was hard enough to have his name plastered on the pages, let alone his face on the cover. Anyone who didn’t already know that he was Steve ‘Peed The Bed Until He Was 9’ Harrington would certainly know now. 

Several artificial laughs, glasses of wine, and self congratulatory cheers later, Steve finally found himself home. His father had pulled a rather tipsy Janet Harrington upstairs to sober up with a proper night's rest. 

It was late, just past 11, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to feel tired. He couldn’t find any feeling but the deep reverberation of emptiness. Emptiness in his own life. He remembered the old novel by Charles Dickens about a man who had become so consumed by his work and his own misery that he forgot how to enjoy the things that make life special, the moments in between. He had always pictured his father in the role of Ebenezer Scrooge, cold and miserly, never understanding how someone could become that way.  Suddenly it was clear. When faced with feelings of such deep loneliness, isolation even, it was easy to slip into a hateful mindset. If he didn’t matter to anyone else, why should they matter to him? He stared at the small candle lit on the cake he baked himself, the cake he’d been so proud of and wanted to share with two people who he now realized would never, ever appreciate him. Everyone already accused him of acting out for attention, he might as well play the part if that was the prize. He was desperate to be seen by someone, anyone as something more than a character in the chapters of someone else’s book.

He hoped that one day he’d find his people, people that cared about him instead of what he could give them. People like that didn’t exist though, not for him. With salty eyes and shaky breath, he blew out his candle and scraped the plate into the trash. There would be no song and no wish, afterall, those belonged to small children in fairytales who cling desperately to a world in which reality was far kinder.

Chapter Text

“3…2…” The cameraman held up one finger while mouthing the final number. The audience clapped in perfect synchronicity as the lights above shined down onto the stage. Steve sat, ankles crossed, in a tailored jacket and khakis. Having reached the tender age of 14, he was invited onto some local television show where they had interviews for a bunch of wannabe celebrities or famous people's children. 

The previous week it was Michael Chaplin, son of Charlie Chaplin, doing a sort of “Where Are They Now?” segment that the network had recently launched. Apparently the man had been on it when he was much younger and had spoken about life as the son of the most famous actor of the early 20th century. Steve felt a bit like a downgrade, if he was honest, the son of a local psychiatrist-turned New York Times best selling author. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew why Carlotta Reese was so interested in having him sit beside his mother, her tight smile lined with an obscene purple-pink lipstick.

“Welcome back to the show, I know you all must be so curious about our new friends that have joined me up here on stage so help me give a warm introduction to Janet and Steve Harrington. Janet has won several awards in her field for her essays and dissertations, but she’s best known now for her self help book titled Shrink The Stigma: A Psychological Guide to Parenting, as well as her autobiography that’s soon to be released. Steven, her son, is known best for being the subject of her educational documentation, but also for his starring role in her book and autobiography. How are you both feeling today?”

“We’re both quite well, thank you Carlotta!” Janet answered for them both, Steve knew better than to speak without being directly addressed. “I’m so happy to have my son here with me, it’s so rare to get the opportunity to bring him out to these shows, but I’m especially grateful for the opportunity to show him around the beautiful city of Chicago.”

The audience clapped as though she said something groundbreaking, perhaps they felt nervous the way Steve did and felt the need to clap. Whatever the reason, it was lost in thunderous claps of Steve’s heartbeat. It wasn’t normal for him to be thrust so heavily in the spotlight, he normally craved to be seen, now he wanted nothing more than a rock to find shelter beneath.

“I found myself incredibly intrigued by the studies of Pavlov.” He tuned back into his mother’s casual conversation with the interviewer. “I remember my father, he was also interested in behavioral studies, talking about how Pavlov had trained his dogs to drool at the sound of a bell. My father called into question whether, like dogs, people could be trained. The most influential subjects being children. Something he believed rather strongly in, was that children were becoming too coddled and soft. Of course, he was an army man so you can imagine his distaste for the children born post war.” She chuckled gently. Steve rarely saw the man while he was alive, but the moments he had were never pleasant. There wasn’t a kind bone in the stiff postured man, sneering at waiters while lighting one of his cigars, mustache thick and white on his curled lips.

“Naturally,” His mother continued, gesturing to Steve. “Being his only grandson, he wanted Steve to be raised properly. All during my pregnancy, we’d come up with some minor experiments to see how Steve would react to them. The biggest was the affection anomaly. We discovered, through research, that most children that were being smothered with affection and unnecessary attention were failing to become responsible and hardworking adults, rather becoming entitled and needy. Without the overbearing parenting, children learn to fend for themselves and create an environment in which they can thrive or fail with only themselves to blame. Sink or swim, very survival of the fittest.”

“Steve, as the subject of this parenting style, how do you feel that has prepared you for life?” Carlotta turned her gaze to him, her horn rimmed glasses sliding slightly down her nose.

“Oh…” Steve froze, feeling the eyes of so many upon him. “I mean… I know how to take care of myself… if that’s what you mean.” He saw the woman’s eyes sharpen slightly, calculating his answer, and in turn her own response. “It’s not a bad thing, that’s for sure, I mean how many kids do you know that can cook dinner or how to balance the checkbook for the family?”

“Do you feel out of touch with other kids your age?” She gave him a soft smile, he almost felt the concern flowing in waves against him. 

“Of course! To be fair, what middle schooler doesn’t though? Like I said, it doesn’t feel like a bad thing, I’m just a little more developed then they are. It’s like learning how to do brain surgery and then finding out everyone else is dissecting a frog, we’re at different points in life.” Steve had the answer practiced, rehearsed hundreds of times. 

His mother had begun facing backlash from the very parents she’d warned against. The coddling mothers. The ones that kissed their kid’s scraped knees and read bedtime stories until drowsy eyes gave way to sleep. Steve knew he was there to help ease the minds of those who dared shout accusations of abuse. He knew what abuse was: bruises over eyes and fingerprints on wrists, he knew he wasn’t like that, but what he didn’t know was why everyone suddenly acted as though his wellbeing was their own concern.

His mother gave him a warm, well practiced smile, stroking her hand through his hair. “I understand that many people have seen an issue with the upbringing of my child, but I remind everyone that every child has different needs. If you find my method doesn’t work for your child, it’s because they don’t require such a heavy handed approach. I love my son very much, that’s something obvious in how much effort I put into him. I know him better than he knows himself at this point and I know what he needs to thrive.” 

The interview continued to buzz past Steve’s brain, the words echoing in his brain, etching itself into the synapses as they fired, inscribing itself right into every thought and movement he made. His mother loved him, that’s why he needed to be the perfect lab rat. She didn’t know any better, her own father using her the same way. He shook the thought from his mind, he wasn’t being used, he was simply living life as the son of an author. Every author took references from real life. He was happy, his mother loved him, if anyone was to blame for his raising it was himself, not that blame was needed. He was warm, wealthy, and handsome and that was what was important. 

The warm lights on his skin felt like a warm hand on a cheek, the applause was praise he didn’t know he needed until it was the only sound he could make out, overwhelming his senses. He was happy, he was supposed to be, but he felt like a doll. He was placed and spoken for while everyone smiled around him and told him how great it was to be him, how envious they all were. 

It’s not a bad thing. 

He mulled over the thought with bitterness on his tongue. Why did the words taste so much like a lie?

***

“I need to talk to you about something weird.” Nancy rubbed at her neck while pacing in her bedroom. Steve sat on her bed with a pinched brow and multicolored pen in hand. He had been trying to push all the colors down when Nancy had turned to him with wide eyes. “Something that you can’t tell anyone elseabout, okay?”

“What’s going on?” He tapped the pen against his knee.

“I just…” She twisted her hands together, refusing to meet his eye. “You loved me.”

“Um…” The tapping paused as Steve’s head snapped in her direction. “Nance I don’t… what are you doing?”

She hesitated. “I want to know how you knew, how you were so sure?”

“Nancy, this isn’t right.” Steve sighed as he flopped backwards onto his bed. “I don’t think I’m the best person to talk to about this.”

“I’m scared Steve.” She whispered. “I feel like when people love me I just chew them up and spit them out, you know? Like loving me is a prerequisite to the downfall.”

“Then it’s time to start asking yourself why you're sabotaging your own relationships.” Steve stared at the ceiling, his heart beating in his chest. “Self reflection is step one in all paths of solving emotional disputes.”

The silence was deafening. He lifted his chin to find her staring at him with an odd look.

“Sometimes I forget…” She laid down beside him. “I forget what your mom was like and then you say shit like that. How is she?”

“When she’s lucid? Quiet.” He could feel the sharp edges of the pen in his grip. “It’s strange because even in the rare times that she is there, she’s not really.”

“I’m sorry.” She leaned her head into his shoulder, the warmth not quite reaching him. 

“It is what it is.” Steve ran a hand through his hair. “You wanted to talk about your relationships with people not about my mother.”

“Steve we don’t-”

“I knew I loved you because you treated me differently.” Steve turned his head towards her. “It wasn’t just to get money or to come to the parties or popularity. You talked to me like I was just plain old Steve. I didn’t have to be anything around you.”

“I didn’t know that you felt like that.” The crease in her forehead smoothed. 

“I also knew…” Steve looked back at the ceiling. “I knew that you didn’t feel the same way about me. I knew but it was something I ignored. I thought that it was just how love was supposed to feel, like maybe you’d feel it eventually if I just kept proving to you that I was in love with you.”

“I wanted to, truly I did, Steve.” Her voice was thin with guilt.

“I know.” His eyelids drooped.

“I wanted to talk to you about it because with everything that’s happened in the past few years, it never felt like a priority to focus on the future, let alone the past, but God Steve… I never apologized to you.” She had tears in her eyes, something a bit perplexing to Steve.

“What do you mean?” He squinted at her.

“Steve.” She glared, daring him to question her. “Just let me try to right my wrongs before you go all Knight-In-Shining-Polo on me.” He smirked, lifting his hands up defensively. “I wanted so badly to blame someone and you were the closest target but that was so wrong of me and I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine, Nance, really. I’m kind of notorious for being pretty shit at romance. Jonathan has the one up on me, I have to respect him for it.” Steve smiled, diffusing the thick air in his lungs.

“Yeah…Jonathan.” She winced. “We um… we decided to take a little break actually.”

“Shit Nan, I’m sorry I didn’t know.” Steve sat up quickly, turning to face her directly. “Are you doing ok?”

“I’m great actually… shockingly.” She reached out a hand to him, a silent request he understood as he pulled her up beside him. “We grew apart and they say absence makes the heart grow fonder but…” She trailed off.

“I get that. Sometimes people are just better off as friends.” He nudged her. “Look at us.”

“I love you Steve Harrington.” She looked at him softly, eyes wet. “I’m sorry I didn’t ever tell you before but I do. Not the way you loved me, but like…” She gestured into the open air, looking for the right thing to say.

“Like you love Eddie?”

“Not quite.” She smiled. “I love Eddie like I love Mike. He’s annoying and more trouble than he’s worth sometimes but he makes me smile. I love you like I love Dustin. I feel like I need to look out for him because he’s so sweet that people will walk all over him. You’re the same way.”

“Ah.” He was a little dumbfounded. He’d not realized that Nancy was keeping an eye on him, but it gave him an odd warm feeling in his chest. “I love you too, but not like I love Eddie.” He laughed. “I love you like Max.”

“Oh?” A laugh bubbled past her lips. “What an honor.”

“I mean you’re both scary as fuck, have you seen her?” He laughed. “But you both also think you’re alone for some reason. You close yourselves off to the world to protect yourself from being hurt because it’s worse for someone to see you as weak than it is for you to suffer in silence.”

“I don’t really know what to say to that.” She fiddled with the bracelet on her wrist. 

“That’s okay.” He took her hand in his. “I can change the subject if you would like.”

“Oh?” She giggled. “What would you rather talk about?”

“Robin.” He watched her whole body freeze, eyes falling into her lap.

“I don’t…” She stammered. “What…?”

“Don’t play that card with me Nancy Drew.” He laughed. “You think I don’t know what your little expressions mean by now? You’re all moony over her.”

“I guess…” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I don't have a lot of experience in the “having a crush” universe and it's really fucking awful.”

“Take it from someone who has had a crush on Robin before, she’s worth all the awkward fumbling.” Steve smiled before pulling her into a gentle hug. “So are you.”

“Ew affection.” She giggled into his shoulder. “I’m really proud of you, you seem to finally be focusing on what makes you happy instead of everyone else.”

“Thanks Nance,” Steve swayed gently with her, grateful that their friendship hadn’t been marred by the ugliness of their past. “I’m trying, some days are better than others. I know that being different is scary, it can get people like us into trouble really quickly, but I’m here to talk if you need it, so is Eddie, and so is Rob. We need to rely on each other, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “We’re quite the mix, huh?”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to be honest, Nance.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head. “You and Robin would be really disgustingly sweet together. At your wedding, you can talk about how your ex had a crush on your wife, and introduced you to each other. ”

“Wedding, huh?”  She peered up at him, breathing in his smoky cologne. “Look at us, being all grown up and mature,when did that happen?”

“When we became the pseudo-parents to a gaggle of nerds.” He sighed with a smile. “I can’t stand those little twerps, they’re costing me my reputation.”

“Yeah I love them too.”

***

“GPA?”

“3.15” Steve rolled the answer off his tongue. “She’s crazy smart.”

“Crazy and smart have no correlation.” His mother crossed her arms. “Any plans for the future?”

“She’s looking at Emerson for journalism.” He was bouncing slightly on his heels. “Mom, I promise, she’s fantastic. I think you’ll really like her.” He was very nervous, in his 17 years of life, he never imagined bringing a girl home to meet either of his parents. Every bit of him was grateful that his dad was away, tackling some business, sleeping with his assistant, something of that matter.

“We shall see.” Her hand was heavy with the pour of dark wine into her glass. It always was, but increasingly lately. Between numbers dwindling and his father’s business trips becoming more frequent, she’d found herself going a bit stir crazy in her own company. It hurt, if he was being honest, that despite the fact that she was more physically present, she had never been more emotionally distant. 

He couldn’t help the hope from blossoming in his chest, maybe if she stayed home with him more she would start to actually enjoy the time they spent together. She could come to his games and they could have family dinners, but good ones where they laughed and talked about their day, not the awkward stony silence he had grown accustomed to. 

***

“Ambitious of you to be pursuing a career in such a male dominated field, Annie.” Steve glared at his mother, his mother who refused to break her stern glare at the girl across from her.

“Nancy, actually, Mrs. Harrington.” Nancy smiled, but Steve knew her well enough to see the venom. “It’s funny, I was going to say the same to you, ma’am.”

“Yes well,” Janet took a swig from her glass, a pleased smile forming. “Men are notoriously stupid when it comes to matters of emotion, just ask my husband.”

“Mom…” Steve sighed, rubbing at his neck.

“Steven, she's delightful, let’s not beat around the bush.” His mother patted Nancy’s hand. “Men have this way of making you feel special and cared for until someone newer, prettier walks in. Right now, you’re at your prime, what are 15? 16?”

“16, Mrs. Harrington.” Nancy nodded.

“Right, so you’re full of that youthful energy that all boys want, but one day you’ll be 45 and things won’t look nearly as good as they do now.” Janet gestured into the vastness of the home. “It’s easy to get swept up into the fun of being the trophy wife, admired by many, but don’t ever forget that all trophies end up on a shelf. Don’t even get me started on what happens if you have children…”

“Alright well let’s ju-” Steve picked at the napkin holder.

“One second you’re a revered, respected member of the scientific community, the next you’re wiping baby butts and snotty noses, staying up all hours of the night because your baby won’t burp, wondering exactly where you went wrong.” She gave a manic laugh. “Tell me dear, do you want children?”

“I um…” Nancy had her eyes glued to Steve, who in turn had his eyes on his plate. “It’s not something I’ve put too much thought into.”

“Take my advice, stay away from them.” The woman finished off her wine with a wink. “You seem like the kind of girl who is desperate to break out of the simple, small town life, to become someone important, right?”

“Doesn’t everyone want to be someone important?” Nancy challenged, eyes fiery.

“You would think, but for some the idea of being important is too far out of the realm of possibility. That’s why you have people that settle into hobbies and interests that require little thought, like acting or athletics, right Steven?” His mother’s sharp scowl met his eyes and he burrowed deeper into his chair.

“I’m not sure I like what you’re implying, Mrs. Harrington .” Nancy ground out. 

“No implication.” The woman laughed. “Steven knows my feelings on the misogynistic and oddly homoerotic world of team’s sports, he’s made his choice.”

“Steve could practically teach the home economics class.” Nancy fired back. “His cooking skills are incredible, something to be proud of in fact.”

“Yes, what mother wouldn’t be overjoyed to hear that their son is a housewife?” Janet’s smile curled into a slight snarl. “And you know what they say about those who can’t do. They teach.”

“And write books.” Nancy spat just before Steve stood from the table.

“Alright well this has just been an absolute blast, but we have school in the morning so we should probably get you home, Nance.” Steve grabbed her hand before she could respond, pulling her out of the house.

“She’s a real gem, Steven.” His mother called after them. Steve chose to ignore her.

***

“What a fucking….” Nancy shook her head, looking out the window. “I mean seriously, I know you said she’s intense but Steve, come on.”

“Yeah she’s a lot, but she means well.” Steve gripped the wheel tightly. “At least she sticks around, even though she relies more on the wine now than she used to…” He exhaled as though the thought pained him. “I’m glad she’s at home when it gets bad because at least I’m there to make sure she doesn’t fall down the stairs or starve or something.”

“Steve, that's not a standard to hold her to.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know you don’t want me to read it, and I didn’t understand before, but I get it now. The way she treats you isn’t okay.”

“We can’t all have perfect stepford moms.” He looked out the window.

“Steve-”

“Just drop it!” He snapped, pulling the car into the Wheeler’s driveway. “Not everything is an investigation for you to uncover all the details to. This is why I was wary of you two meeting. I knew sparks would fly, but like an idiot I introduced the two of you together expecting what, friendship? I just wanted to have a single, civil, normal night.”

“I’m sorry that I picked a fight with her, but I’m not going to apologize for defending you.” Nancy argued.

“I don’t need-” He huffed a heavy breath, putting his head in his hands. “I can handle myself on my own.”

“Yeah but you don’t have to.” Nancy put a hand on his shoulder, pulling it away when he flinched at the contact.

“Look, I appreciate it, but please just let me handle my mother from now on, okay?” Steve pleaded, turning his wide eyes to her before spying movement from the house’s curtains. “Your dad is watching us, you should probably head in.”

“Okay well,” She grabbed her bag from the floor of his car. “Don’t forget what I said, you don’t always have to handle everything yourself.” With that, she exited the car with a slam of the door. He sat there for a few moments, taking in the evening and dreading going back home. Taking a deep breath, he threw the car in reverse, slowly making his way back home.

***

Bullshit.

The word rang through his head, not a full year later. All he could think about as he watched Nancy snuggle against Jonathan, was how wrong she really was.

Steve Harrington was not the kind of person who had someone in his corner, he never was and he never would be.

Chapter Text

“You’re $8 short honey.” The cashier at the market pointed to the coins in her hand with a raised brow. She had a large hairy mole on her cheek, an outdated beehive hairdo, and shiny blue eyeshadow thickly pasted to her eyelids. She was the kind of woman that his parents would usually turn up their nose to, but the pity in her eyes moved his heart in the opposite direction. “Is your mom out in her car? You can maybe go ask for a few extra dollars to even it out?”

“No I can um… I’ll just put some stuff back, it’s okay.” Steve’s breath shook as he gripped onto the basket. “I don’t need all the bells and whistles this time.” He tried to crack a smile, ignoring the way her forehead crinkled. 

Essentials only, that was the way it had to be. His parents were gone a little bit longer than he expected, longer than they promised, and the grocery money was beginning to dry up. No beef, chicken only. Chicken was cheap, cheap was great. He could even stock up on pasta and canned soup for a bit. Cold fear pooled into his stomach: What would happen after that? He was too young for a job, a real job at least, but he could try some odd jobs around town. He’d have to avoid the prying eyes of Officer Hopper, of course, the gruff man had been keeping a promised eye on him and it was getting harder to come up with excuses for his parents absence.

He silently mourned as he put the box of cereal back on the shelf, he’d been really excited by the premise of Count Chocula, the sugar level higher than his mother would have usually allowed when present, they had figures and images to maintain after all. 

He returned to Mildred, the cashier, with a significantly lighter basket, checking out with a small pack of chicken, dried pasta, a can of tomato soup, a half gallon of milk, and a loaf of bread. It was pretty meager, the meals would be bland, but he’d survive. It wouldn’t be much longer anyways, right?

***

Quiet days off were hard to come by for the average person, let alone for someone who had been involved with the Upside Down as often as Steve had. Nevertheless, he found himself lounging in the bliss of a plan free, lazy morning. He slept in, did his full hair routine, and made himself some waffles. Sure, there were a few errands that needed attending later on in the evening, but for the moment, time was his.

Until the doorbell rang .

“If you’re selling something, I’m not bu- Max?” He opened the door quickly, irritated by the interruption.

“I’m not selling anything.” Max glared up at him. “And I even rang the bell.”

“Wow you guys can be taught.” Steve rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “It’s always a pleasure, but what do I owe this one?”

“I need to cash in on a favor.” Her backpack was slipping on her shoulder, the weight dragging it to the ground. “I know it’s your day off, and I promise it won’t take long, but I don’t know who else to ask.”

“Jesus fuc-” He sighed. “You would’ve been a killer girl scout with that sales pitch.”

“Are you going to make me stand here on the porch or…?” Max raised a brow. 

“Fine, come in.” Steve stepped aside, letting her into his sanctuary. “Don’t touch that.” He called out, voice stopping her hand in midair. She had been reaching toward a rather delicate statue made up of about 14 mirrors positioned in different angles to catch the light.

“I’m not a child, I won’t break it.” Still she dropped her hand.

“I’m not worried about you breaking it.” He rolled his eyes. “It takes forever to get fingerprints off of it, but that’s beside the point, what do you need?”

“Actually on second th-”

“Max.”

“Okay I just…” She fiddled with the edge of her shirt. “This is stupid and I wouldn’t be asking unless I absolutely needed your help but will you take me grocery shopping?” 

Steve blinked at her, expecting much worse.

“I know it’s dumb and it’s not like you’re actually like our parent or whatever, but I just need a ride and between you and Eddie, you were the better option.” She quickly tacked on.

“Yeah Max, I’ll take you shopping.”  Steve sighed, ruffling a hand through her hair. “Is your mom at work today?”

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Steve paused in his path to grab his shoes, deciding whether or not to continue questioning her or not. He decided against it as the answer was fairly obvious. 

“I um…” She tugged at her sleeve. “I just need to grab a couple things, it won’t take long.”

“Sounds good.” He nodded as he finished tying his shoes. “That’s perfect actually because I needed to run to the store anyways, I wanted to make something for Eddie.”

“Ooh Eddie.” She giggled in a high pitched mockery of his voice, following him to his car.

“Oooh Lucas.” He matched her tone with a grin. 

“I should have asked Nancy…” Max groaned as she buckled herself in. Steve laughed as he pulled out of his driveway, tires screeching. Maybe Eddie was rubbing off on him more than he thought.

***

“-Got to be fucking kidding!” 

“I can’t stand to spend another minute-”

“Oh you would be so lucky.”

Steve rubbed at his eyes, fog of sleep not lifting from his brain. He squinted at the clock, 2:36 am. He yawned as his feet hit the cold hardwood floors, the sound of yelling echoing in the halls of his previously empty home.

“Look at what you’ve done.” Janet shouted across the kitchen, eyes red with unshed tears. “It’s bad enough that you make my life miserable, but now you’ve dragged Steven into this.”

“I’m not the one making a scene Janet!” Michael shouted back, ignoring his 9 year old son. “If you hadn’t insisted upon emasculating me, it would’ve never come to this.”

“Emasculating?” Janet whirled around on him. “Emasculating, really? The idea that I could have a successful career threatened you so much that you tripped and got your secretary pregnant?”

“Hey st-” Steve tried to interject.

“You wouldn’t have had a successful anything without my name!” Michael interrupted his son’s protest. “You would still be stuck under your dad’s thumb, an educated assistant.”

“Please stop!” Steve covered his ears. “It’s the middle of the night!”

“Stop being dramatic Steven!” Michael huffed, waving him off.

“Don’t yell at him!”

“Don’t tell me what to do in my home!”

“Our home!”

“Stop!” Steve couldn’t help the tears from streaming down his cheeks. “Just stop yelling! I hate it when you guys yell.”

“Steven!” His mother pivoted to face him. “I am trying to defend you and you’re going to be disrespectful? Who do you think you’re speaking to?”

“I’m sorry…” He sighed. “I’m just tired and I didn’t know you’d be home tonight so I didn’t know who was in the house.”

“See. You scared him.” Janet turned back to Michael. “Tell him Steven.”

“I-” Steve stuttered as his father scowled down at him.

“There you go putting words into his mouth.” Michael threw his hands up. “Maybe if you stopped parading him around like a puppet with a hand up his ass, he’d be capable of having an intelligent thought.”

Steve watched as they continued going back and forth, his heart pounding every time his name was called. His eyes were so heavy, but the noise made it impossible to slip under the cover of sleep. He had school in the morning, hell, it was morning. He already had to be awake early to walk, he might as well try to keep his eyes open at this point. He realized, at that moment, curled up on the stairs, that he preferred it when his parents were gone. He preferred the quiet to the harsh screams, his own reflection to the judging company. At least when they inevitably left again he'd get another check for groceries. He could almost taste the Count Chocula on his tongue.

***

Steve was known for being fairly cool in an intense situation, even when fighting for his life, so it wouldn’t surprise anyone to find out that he was the kind of person to stew in anger. His fingers gripping the wheel, brow furrowed so deeply that a tension headache was beginning to reveal itself. His only thought was of Max. Max sitting alone in her house, hungry, upset, fucking traumatized and her mother was simply ‘out’ at the moment.

Maybe it was because he shared a special place in his heart for that ‘random girl’ that decided to help him all those years ago, maybe it was the fact that he’d seen her as close to death as he could handle and realized how desperately he wanted a little sister, or maybe it was just that he couldn’t help but see himself in her too young eyes. The hope slowly giving way to disappointment, bitterness, as she pushed people away. Not that Lucas would ever go too far from her, they were joined at the hip long before Vecna, despite the on again off again romance they’d been sporting. Max was like him in every way, except she had people that were willing to fight for her, himself included.

Pulling into the supermarket, he could see it was a sleepy Sunday for Hawkins, people preferring to keep to themselves in their own homes rather than brave unsolicited communication with strangers.  After parking, he walked to Max’s door, opening it with a squint in the sunlight. She winced as she slowly pulled herself to her feet, joints aching more and more as winter drew closer. He’d always been amazed by her perseverance but never as much as he was when she was relearning how to move. Zoomer, that’s what they called her, and she lived up to her title. She couldn’t handle slowing down so she refused, despite the annoyed huffs from nurses and therapists practically begging her to rest. 

“Stiff?” He asked as she stretched her arms.

“A little, my elbows keep locking up.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m fine, not dying on you yet Steve.” It was a joke, or meant to be, but it held a little too much weight. He’d been there, in the room, when her pulse dropped. When the alarms started ringing and the nurses started running. He’d felt his heart stop just as the doctors forced hers to start. It was a joke that would never be funny. It would never make him picture her as an old, brittle woman but only as a broken child laying in a hospital bed. “Steve. Steeee-ve” She snapped at her fingers in his face. 

“Let’s go inside, yeah?” She ignored the way he kept a hand on her shoulder and simply nodded, following him between the automatic doors.

***

“Lighten and tighten, that’s the golden rule kid.” Steve had the basket attached to his elbow, not wanting to weigh her down with the groceries.

“Is that what your basketball coach used to tell you?” She teased as she scanned the shelves.

“Fucking hilarious.” He deadpanned. “But no. Lighten: don’t get shit you don’t need. Tighten: tighten your budget. You never know how long you’re going to need to make a dollar stretch for.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She stopped suddenly, eyebrows furrowed.

“Max, I know you don’t want to get into it but-”

“She’s going to come back, okay?” She snapped. “She’s a good mom and she wouldn’t just leave me. She’s a little lost right now and it’s my job to help her.”

“You want to help her?” He asked, weighing his argument, knowing better than to attempt an argument against a teenage girl. “Then lighten and tighten. It’ll save you both a little extra cash in case things start to get rough, capiche?”

“Capiche.” She grumbled, hating to admit she was wrong.

“Look I need a few things of my own for dinner tonight, why don’t you go grab what you need and we’ll meet up at the deli, cool?” He pushed a cart in her direction. “And remember-”

“Lighten and tighten, yeah.” She rolled her eyes as they went in opposite directions.

***

“Can you imagine something so awful?” His mother sobbed, tissue pressed to her nose. “He’s practically abandoning us, Steven.”

“He’s leaving?” Steve handed her a new tissue, noting how the other had been crumpled into oblivion.

“Well no, but emotionally he’s been gone for years.” She sighed, rubbing at her brow. “Hand me that bottle there.” He handed her the orange bottle, the prescription for something but he wasn’t sure what. She only ever took it when things were really bad. She tossed back the two little pills with a gulp of wine, wiping her lips roughly with her sleeve. Steve knew better at this point than to point out that she probably shouldn’t be drinking while taking her medicine, it never ended well. 

It wasn’t much of a surprise when she started throwing things an hour later. It began with the wedding photo, the glass shattering on impact with the wall. Then it was the throw pillows, taking the name too literally. The bottle of wine got tossed upon the discovery that it was empty. Broken glass littered the hardwood floor, Steve scrambling with a broom behind the path of destruction. 

“Y-you with his eyes.” She stumbled, bumping into the table. “You look exactly like him, you know. God I hate looking at you.” He tried not to take the words to heart, but venom is venom. 

“Mom, why don’t you go up to bed.” He placed his hand on her elbow, pulling it away as she smacked at it, fingers stinging.

“See and now you are- you’re- you telling me what to do…” She laughed humorlessly. “You really are like him. One day you’ll be his perfect clone and you’ll make your lit-little wife miserable.” He stayed silent, watching as a tear slid down her cheek. “That’s the thing about you Steve, you are desperate for something you’ll never find.” She slurred.

“I don’t-”

“Your dad hates you, sorry to be the one to break it to you.” She patted his cheek gently. “We have that in common. We have him trapped here when he just wants to galavant around with every woman he can, master of masculinity.”

“Mom please.” Steve willed the tears away.

“He hates us Steven!” She shouted suddenly, making him jump. “He hates everything about us. Stop trying. Stop seeking something that won’t come.”

“Please let go of my arm…” She had him in an iron grip.

“You ruined it.” She cried suddenly. “We were fine before you. I was young and beautiful and he had eyes for me and then you ruined it.” 

“Mom, you're hurting me.” Steve clawed at her fingers, he’d surely be able to trace her fingerprints in the bruises in the morning.

“Hurting you? Hurting helps.” She hiccuped. “Pain teaches us things, you know that. My dad taught me strength. Considering your father’s failure, I’ll have to teach you myself.”

***

“Fucking hell Max.” Steve grit his teeth, looking up and down the aisles of the store. They had been in the store for nearly an hour, long past time to meet at the deli, yet she was nowhere to be found. “How hard could it be to find a redhead?” He shifted the weight of his basket to his other elbow, keeping his eyes on the empty aisles around him. 

Aha.

He saw just a sliver of orange hair in the corner of his eye and immediately turned heel, chasing the sight down. Except it wasn’t moving, simply standing still with it’s back to him. He reached a hand to her shoulder gently, calling out to her before making contact to announce his presence.

She turned and faced him, eyes red and face pale. She was hugging something close to her chest and staring at him with a broken expression. He was ready to kill anyone she directed him to.

“Steve-” Her voice cracked as she clutched her hands closer to herself.

“Hey woah, woah, woah, what’s going on? What happened?” He dropped his basket, placing his hands on her shoulders while surveying the area for a threat.

“You never… you never said, you never told anyone about this.” She opened her arms shakily. There was his fake smile, his coiffed hair, his father’s eyes, all staring back at him from the cover of the book bearing his name. He felt the air rush from his lungs.

“Don’t, Max, don’t read that garbage.” He reached for the book but she held it away from him.

“Why didn’t you ever tell anyone?” He hated the pity in her gaze.

“It’s no one else’s business.” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Just ignore whatever it is that you read.”

“I’m not going to ignore the fact that your mom is trying to justify hurting you.” She wiped angrily at a tear that fell onto her cheek. “I already ignored that once, never again.”

“Maxie, it’s not the same.” Steve brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, slumping against the shelves containing magazines and other local publications. “I’m fine.”

“You’re the worst influence, you know that?” She crossed her arms. “You sit here and you tell me what? Lighten and tighten ? What if it was Robin, hmmm? Or Eddie? Dustin? Or-”

“You.” 

“Yeah Steve what-what if it was me?” She turned away from him. “What are you going to teach me next? How to cover bruises? Don’t worry, my mom hasn’t gotten that bad, that was Neil and only to Billy.” She was shaking, her voice thick with tears. “So what would you say?”

“I would tell you that you deserve better.” He leaned his head back against the shelf. “I would tell you to talk to someone who you could trust, who you love, someone who could help you.”

“Take your own advice Steve.” She turned back to him, scowl softening. “You deserve better but she made you think otherwise. I hate her, you hear me? I hate her.”

“Me too, Kiddo.” He wrapped her into a gentle hug. “Sometimes. Sometimes I love her. That’s something I’m sure you understand.”

“Yeah…” Her eyes flickered to the floor. “I guess… yeah.” She paused. “I don’t want to read this Steve.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” He agreed.

“Will you tell me about her? Get some of it off your ungodly hairy chest?” She mused with a small grin. “I won’t tell anyone, I just know that talking about it helps, especially when it’s your choice.”

“Alright, but my fairytale comes at a cost.” He tapped his chin in thought. “You call me whenever your mom is ‘out’ and come over to my house. I don’t want you spending so much time alone.”

“Deal.” She spat into her hand before extending it for a shake.

“Yeah I’m not touching that.” He grimaced. “Now buckle in because it’s kind of a long story. It all starts with my Grandfather and a scientist called Pavlov…” As he began telling her the story of his life, how much he hated being in the spotlight yet never enough to be truly cared about, neither he nor Max noticed the man writing notes on the other side of the shelves. 

***

“You slept in late today Steven.” His mother hummed while opening the cabinet above the stove. “You really need to get better at setting your alarm.” She gasped as she turned to him, taking in the bruise under his eye. “What happened?”

“I…what?” Steve winced as she pressed the tender spot.

“Such a clumsy boy.” She shook her head disapprovingly. “You must’ve tripped last night after your father and I went to bed.”

“Mom… Dad isn’t-” He paused, squinting at her. “Dad isn’t here.”

“Of course not, he’s at work.” She gave him an odd look as though he was spewing nonsense. “But after we all had that lovely dinner, the fish, remember? After that we played monopoly and then your father and I went to bed. You must’ve been trying to sneak some money from the bank, you little cheater.” She smiled a little too tightly.

“Mom, what are you talking about?” Steve backed away from her. “We didn’t… I mean we never…Dad left yesterday morning. We had takeout for dinner. We never played Monopoly. You took your medicine last night and…” He trailed off, his cheeks burning warmly as he recalled the memories of the night before.

“Are you saying I… Did I do this?” She cradled his cheek.

“Mom I-”

“You’re lying.” She pushed him away suddenly. “I wouldn’t do that, you’re my baby. You’re making things up again to make me look bad. You love making me look bad, don’t you?”

“No I don’t, I’m not lying. You were just out of it, it was an accident really.” He placated. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” 

“You’re saying that I can’t remember because of my medicine?” She had a distraught look on her face as he nodded. She quickly raced to the cabinet, pulling out the bottle and pouring the pills in the trash. “I’ll speak to the doctor about changing them, I promise this will never happen again.” 

She kept her promise for quite a while,never apologizing for her actions but also never repeating them, until time inevitably went on and his father’s assistant’s baby bump began showing,  she'd gotten the prescription refilled. 

***

“I don’t think that’s what he meant…” Max peered in the oven, Steve beside her with oven mitts on both hands. 

“See I thought the same thing, but I heard him myself. He gushes about the stuff, talks about it like it’s a person and everything. Figured I’d at least try to make him one if he loves it so much.” He pulled the pan out, the savory aroma filling Max’s trailer. He had driven her home and was helping her put the groceries away when he spotted a cookbook with the exact recipe he had been searching for. Having bought everything he needed at the store, he enlisted Max’s help and her kitchen to prepare the dinner for the Munsons. “Now come with me to take it over to him, you get half the credit for helping make it.”

“Oh no, you take all the responsibility for this one.” She laughed, following behind him as they walked to the door of the Munson trailer. Eddie opened the door with a lazy grin, cigarette hanging out of his mouth. 

“What do I owe the great honor of being graced by such royalty?” He winked at Steve.

“We brought you your favorite!” Steve smiled, pushing the pan towards him, ignoring Max’s snicker. “Meatloaf!”

“Uh-Thanks!” Eddie stared at the loaf with confusion. “I mean I like beef as much as the next guy, especially if the next guy is Wayne, but I feel like I gotta tell you. Red here clearly didn’t clue you in.” He pointed at Max.

“What are you talking about?” Steve looked back and forth between the two as giggles started breaking out of their grins.

“Meatloaf is a singer, Babe.” Eddie patted his shoulder. “But it smells amazing, really.”

“But I thought…”

“That I really loved beef with ketchup?” Eddie kissed his forehead. “You’re adorable. Come in, mi casa is… your casa.” 

While Eddie thought the mix up was funny, Wayne thought it was hysterical . They spent the evening together, all four misfits, around one table sharing a meal and each other’s company, unaware of the chaos that would unfold in exactly 48 hours.

Chapter Text

Steve knew how he was perceived, meaning he knew that the world viewed him through the “tough rich douchebag” lens. To a point, they weren’t wrong. He was fairly wealthy, and he couldn’t deny that he was an asshole at times. Tough though, that one was trickier. When push came to shove and Steve’s back was against a wall, sure he could pull off tough, but naturally speaking he was a hermit crab. Soft and fragile inside an ornate shell.

He remembered the way that Tommy and Carol had sneered at the theater kids, whispering hateful things about how the boys liked to look at each other in tights and how the girls were desperate and easy. He wouldn’t have been able to admit it then, but he admired their perseverance. They had been knocked aside by so many people in the school, low on the social food chain, yet they were brave enough to be themselves against adversity. Even wilder, they were able to be themselves by pretending to be someone else. They were easy targets, yet they got up onto the stage in front of everyone and kept going. How could anyone have guessed that the beloved King was alone on a stage, giving the performance of his life?

Steve Harrington loved to play basketball.

Steve Harrington’s favorite color is blue.

Steve Harrington wants to be a businessman one day.

Steve Harrington wanted to focus more on a career than on a family.

Steve Harrington is confident. Steve Harrington is happy.

He could practically choke on the lies that bubbled so easily off his tongue. It wasn’t ever intentional, it just seemed as though no one cared to ask, so he let them keep their assumptions. Afterall, what did he have to be unhappy about? He had so many wonderful things to be grateful for, why couldn’t he shake the heavy cloud that surrounded him? So maybe his girlfriend cheated on him, and perhaps the kids didn’t need him as much in the summertime when their bikes would suffice. Even if he had no real friends his own age and his only real purpose was being the wielder of a baseball bat: He. Was. Fine. 

The nights were hard at first, but he’d gotten used to waking up early and going out for runs. He knew he couldn’t outrun the knowledge that there were monsters in the world but he could pretend until his lungs burned and his sides ached. Even the quiet of his home had become almost therapeutic, he could hear if something was walking on the hardwood floors. The thing that made his fingers tremble and his neck filled with tension was when he was surrounded by the others.

The laughter and the joy, the arguments, the scrapings of chairs and forks during dinners, even the quiet moments when they simply sat together. It was all so much and it served to prove that even in a group setting, Steve was always alone. It wasn’t intentional, he grasped tightly to that hope. With the kids in their tight knit circle, Jonathan and Nancy, and the grownups all sticking within their own comfort zones, it was crystal clear that Steve was the odd man out. Maybe that’s why it was so easy to slip out the back door, head pounding and ears ringing, while everyone else took care of their loved ones. 

***

“All I’m saying is that if you want to find out, you’re going to have to toughen up and deal with it.” Eddie rolled his eyes, fingers laced behind his head as he lounged in Wayne’s recliner. “Bite the bullet, Wheeler.”

“Why can’t you just tell me?” Mike crossed his arms. “Save us both the pain.”

“Watch your mouth.” Eddie sat forward, brows raised. “I like your sense of humor, it’s deeply cynical and reminds me of myself when I was starting as an angry, young, headbanger.”

“Well-”

“Let me finish.” The man put up a finger, effectively cutting Mike off mid sentence. “I’m not going to sit back and have you shit talking my boyfriend without doing something about it.”

“I wasn’t shit talking.” Mike pouted, eliciting a huff of annoyed laughter from Eddie.

“You referred to spending time with him as pain, Mike.” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“You referred to it as biting the bullet.” Mike had him there, he had to admit it.

“That’s beyond the point, he knows I love spending every moment with him.” Eddie sputtered.
“In fact, I think you’re not telling me because you don’t know yourself.” Mike was gaining the upper hand. 

“Listen here asshole,” Eddie scowled. “I know what Steve wants for Christmas, okay? I am a good boyfriend and I obviously know the things he enjoys doing.”

“Holy shit, you have no idea.” Mike’s eyes widened. “Eddie, trust me, that’s bad. El once broke up with me for pretty much the same thing.”

“Steve’s not going to break up with me, ease up on the dramatics.” He knew that Mike was right, though. It was bad. “He loves me and I…” He trailed off.

“Eddie.” Mike’s jaw dropped. “Eddie, you can’t be serious.”

“It’s not an easy thing to say to someone, okay? Not all of us fall in love at 13.” Eddie pouted. “He knows I love him, without me having to say it.”

“Does he though?” Mike challenged. “How would he if you don’t tell him?”

“Because I show it.” Eddie slapped his knees as he rose from the seat. “Now c’mon, we gotta get going if we wanna make it to movie night.” He pulled his hair out from beneath the collar of his leather jacket. “Make sure you pay attention tonight and get some ideas. No one wants to be known as the shitty Secret Santa.”

Does he know?  

Eddie didn’t like dwelling on things for very long. It didn’t change outcomes and only served to make matters worse. That didn’t stop the question from making a home in the front of his brain. Sighing, he shook his head. There was no reason to get himself worked up over it, especially when he was 98% sure that Steve knew how he felt without having to voice the words. 

***

Michael Harrington wanted a swimmer. Someone to boast about to his golfing buddies. He had been a swimmer himself, back in his college days, and insisted that Steve follow in his footsteps. When Steve was barely old enough to walk, he threw him into the pool, watching him sputter and flap about until he rescued him with a disappointed sigh. That became a common theme for the man, throwing Steve in the deep end and hoping he’d eventually figure out how to swim without any actual instruction. That was why he was cut off financially the moment he turned 18. 

It wasn’t all bad, of course, just something to get used to. The best thing that came out of it was Robin. They had a rocky start, but when it came to Steve, who didn’t have a rocky start? Of course torture really helped things along. There was a familiarity that came with draping yourselves over public toilets while spilling your guts to each other, in more ways than one. As they sat together, converse touching converse, discussing the talent (or lack thereof) of Tammy Thompson, Steve could almost physically feel the tide turning. He wouldn’t be the odd man out, not this time. 

That is, at least, until the time to leave the mall had come. They had sat, pressed together under a shock blanket, on a curb in the mall parking lot. He watched as Max and El held each other, sobs ripping from their lungs as Joyce whispered sweet nothings to them, promising kind futures and hope she couldn’t possibly guarantee. He thought of Billy, the pain he must’ve felt immeasurable to anything in Steve’s short life. He thought about how the drugs must still be in his system as he felt no pain from the torture he’d been through, simply numbness. Robin was chattering about something beside him, but he couldn’t process what she was saying, either too much or too fast, possibly both. He wished he could close his eyes and open them again, only to find that everything was pretend, that he was really just zoning out at a ‘family dinner’ again. 

Suddenly, Robin jumped up from beside him. He glanced up at the movement and watched as she launched herself into her father’s arms, sobbing before even making contact. He watched longingly as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, ushering her away to his car before she could so much as think of waving goodbye. It was as though a bucket of cold water had been thrown on him. Where the hell was Dustin? He had definitely seen him back at the mall, checking on everyone and lending heartfelt condolences where they were due. Steve pulled himself up with a pained whine, clutching at his ribs. He could see Jonathan just ahead so he made his way to him slowly.

“Jonathan!” He breathed quickly, grasping at the man’s shoulder as he turned his wide eyes to him. “Jonathan, have you-” Steve gulped, looking around wildly. “Have you seen Dustin? I don’t… I can’t find him.”

“Hey Steve,” He sniffled, holding a hand to Steve’s chest gently. “You don’t look great man, are you sure you’re okay? I can call over a paramedic or-”

“No! No! I just… I need to find him, okay? What if the Russian’s got him?” Steve was losing grip on the strings of reality and he hated the feeling. 

“Don’t worry man, I saw him leave with his mom like… 20 minutes ago?” Jonathan patted his sternum again before removing his hand. “Unless his mom is Russian, I’d say he was safe.” He gave a sort of sad smile and it hit Steve very suddenly. Here Jonathan was, worried out of his mind about his Mom and mourning the death of the chief, and Steve was shoving his paranoia right in the middle of it all.

“H-he left? Are you sure? I didn- He didn’t…” Steve heaved a deep breath, trying to calm his heart.

“Yeah he left right before the Sinclairs.” Jonathan gave him a look. “I really feel like you should talk to one of the paramedics, you’re bleeding.” Steve turned slowly, taking in the scene around him with a newfound clarity. The only people that were still there were the Wheelers, The Byers, Max, and Murray. When did they leave? They snuck right by him, they must have, because he never saw them go.

“I’ll be fine.” His jaw clenched. “I gotta get out of here, but uh… I’ll keep your family on my mind, alright? Anything you guys need, anything at all, let me know.” With that, he made his way to the front entrance of the mall, away from the others and the prying eyes of the reporters, and called himself a cab home. 

***

“I never understood why though?” Eddie peered down at Steve who was laying on his lap, the rocker’s bangs falling in front of his eyes with a smile. “What does a witch, some high heels, and a tornado have to do with Winter?”

“It’s just a tradition.” Steve stuck his tongue out at him. “Unless you want to watch something else…”

Eddie opened his mouth, fully prepared to suggest a less cheesy film, when he met the eye of one Mike Wheeler. Mike shook his head, God since when was he taking relationship advice from a 15 year old? He thought back, for a moment, on the movie nights of the past. He remembered the many hours spent on Star Wars and Star Trek, not to mention the horror movies that seemed to make their way onto the stack. Steve never seemed as excited about them, yet they always watched them. This wasn’t the first movie suggestion that Steve had made, but most times they were shot down by the nerdier members of the party. This was the first time he’d ever been so giddy.

“Eddie?” Steve stared up at him with a furrowed brow. He started to roll off the man's lap, reaching for the remote. “Let’s just watch somethi-” He was cut off by Eddie grabbing the back of his shirt, pulling him back down.

“I’m just messing with you.” Eddie smiled at the hopeful look in Steve’s eyes. “I’m going to get shit for this, I know, but I’ve never actually watched this the whole way through.”

“Sacrilege!” 

“Bullshit!”

“Really?” 

The kids echoed the disbelief that showed on Steve’s face.

“I mean I’ve seen up to the poppies and shit but it’s just…” He trailed off. It wasn’t his style. It was too perfect and proper and it didn’t feel like there were any real stakes. “Nevermind, you guys can pop my Wizard of Oz cherry, alright?”

“Gross.” Lucas made a face as the opening score started, sepia coloring the screen. Eddie threaded his fingers into Steve’s hair, braiding bit by bit before unbraiding it and starting again. By the time color flooded through the doorway of Dorothy’s home, Eddie was thoroughly bored. He glanced down at Steve and found himself unable to look away. The wonderment that filled his eyes, the gentle smile on his face as the Lollipop Guild presented their gift to Dorothy, maybe this movie wasn’t so bad. Even the kids seemed transfixed by the magic of nostalgia. Between the warmth on his lap and the warmth in everyone’s heart, Eddie couldn’t help but drift off.

***

“Son, we have bigger issues to deal with right now.” The voice hissed on the other end of the line. “I’m not sure you’re aware, but the mall has gone up in flames and people have lost their lives. We’re a little preoccupied to deal with your missing Mommy.” With that, dial tone filled the eerie silence of Steve’s home.

He wiped at his brow, wincing slightly at the sting of one of the cuts, as he did another panicked rush through the two story home. His mother was supposed to be here. Not only that, she needed to be here. 

After the birth of Steve’s sister(?) to his father’s secretary, she had taken to staying home when not on tour. His parents were married on paper and nothing more. She’d taken the separation very hard, but she took her career downfall harder, slipping more and more into alcohol and medication until she was nothing more than a husk of the esteemed woman she once was. She rarely spoke, most of the time too out of it to form sensical sentences, but when she was lucid she was quiet. She’d been on a downward spiral for about 3 years, each month a little worse for wear, but it wasn’t until January of 1985 that she began to show the signs of her distress more clearly.

He’d been taking care of her, despite the poison that seemed to drip from her every word, through it all. He used the experience he had been thrown into since he was young to help himself. Between the cooking, cleaning, medication, and helping her with basic hygiene tasks like combing her hair, he was admittedly spread a little thin. The further she progressed, the harder it became. It meant missing out on little things, like having his parents at his graduation, but he knew it was a small price to pay for the knowledge that she was well cared for. The more the public hated her, the more catatonic she became. Doctors came and went, suggesting hospitalization, much to his argument. She was his mother, he couldn’t just send her away, no matter how hard it was.

Now though? Now he was running though the halls of an empty hall, searching beneath a bed made with wrinkled sheets, checking for open windows, and ,eventually, knocking on a few neighbors' doors. That was how he learned of a van coming to pick his mother up, a van that apparently had the name of the local psychiatric hospital painted on the side of it. Upon calling, he found out that she had a brief moment of clarity and called to be picked up. He found out that she requested complete privacy and, after some light prodding to the receptionist, a transfer to a more upscale hospital in Canada. 

There wasn’t a note or even a word in regards to him. She didn’t care to let him know where she was, instead she abandoned him. His father had a new life, a new family, and no reason to return. The numbness that had flooded his veins ebbed away, head throbbing as he sank to his knees onto the tiled floor of his kitchen, back against the fridge. Dustin and the Sinclairs didn’t even think to say goodbye and Robin seemed to jump at the opportunity to escape him. Why was it so difficult for people to want to be around him? He felt his eyes well with tears as he thought about Hopper dying. Selfishly the realization struck him. He was the ‘team tough guy’ now. He didn’t get a choice in the matter, he didn’t get to be the kid anymore. He had people to take care of outside of his home, especially now that one he was supposed to care for within his home was gone. He had to be the grownup, despite the sob ripping it’s way from his throat. He hadn’t let himself cry in a long time, yet it wasn’t the cathartic relief he dreamed it could be. It was simply a reminder that he was alone in the aftermath once more.

***

“No place like home?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “That’s really the message?” He had been nudged awake in the second half of the film, waking to the sight of a man with a massive green forehead between two flames. He remained awake through the end, finally seeing it almost entirely.

“Yeah man,” Dustin turned to him. “It’s like how the comfort of home beats the unknown of the open world.”

“Yeah I get it, dipshit, it’s just…” Eddie waved his hands in front of himself, trying to find the right word. “A crock of shit?” He chuckled at the outraged noise that flew from Max’s lips. Her hair was braided into two tight braids, clearly a lover of the movie. He felt Steve still from his lap, but he didn’t say anything. 

“I think it’s charming.” Max scrunched her nose at him. “It’s simple and sweet and-”

“GAG!” Eddie tipped his head back as Steve sat up slowly, cracking his neck before leaning his elbows on his knees. “I mean seriously, imagine seeing this magical, amazing world and then coming back to a small town. There’s no way you could be happy with any sort of simple life after seeing the madness, no matter how romantic.” Suddenly,  silence filled the room.

“Good to know.” Steve stood and walked up the stairs to his bedroom, the sound of the latch closing seemed to echo in the quiet. Eddie couldn’t help but feel the churning of anxiety in his gut. He had fucked this up, definitely. 

“Guess that’s our cue to leave.” Lucas sighed, offering Max a hand to help her stand. Eddie took a step towards the staircase before the younger man laid a hand on his chest. “Maybe leave him alone for the night Eddie.”

He watched the kids file out to their respective rides, running a hand down his face as he thought back to the evening. He had to discuss this with Wayne, he always knew how to fix things. He could feel the heat of Max’s glare as she loaded into the van, silence thick with tension.

“That was quite possibly the worst thing you could’ve said to him.” Her voice was quiet but her tone sharp. They’d been driving for a few minutes in the quiet before she turned to him. “Why would you say that?”

“Because I’m stupid, Red.” Eddie sighed, staring at the road ahead of him. 

“You don’t get to pity yourself for this one, alright? You messed up big time.” She folded her arms. “He’s sensitive and sweet and people just.. They take advantage of it. Constantly. I wanted you to be better, I needed you to be. I was counting on you and you hurt him.”

“I know.” He whispered.

“No you don’t.” She cried suddenly, eyes tinged with tears. “You don’t know shit Eddie. It’s not my place to tell you but maybe talk to your Uncle about Steve’s parents. He might be able to clue you in on a thing or two.” He pulled up to the trailer park, slowing to a stop between their homes. “Fix this or fuck off.” With that, she was gone. 

***

“Eddie.” Wayne sighed, rubbing circles into his nephews back as he sobbed. “I know it feels like everything is ruined, and I won’t lie, this isn’t great.” He pulled away, looking into Eddie’s glassy eyes. “The thing is, to be a good man you have to learn to admit when you’re wrong and how to apologize. You can’t learn how to do either without having made a mess of things, right?”

“Yeah I guess.” He sniffled, rubbing his red nose. “I feel awful, Wayne. I don’t know what I was thinking and now Steve thinks I don’t… he thinks I don’t love him. I do, I really love him.”

“Then prove it to him.” Wayne brushed a hair out of his face. “Prove to him that you’re here to stay, that you’re not just going to leave like his parents did.”

“Speaking of…” Eddie winced at the headache that came with the tears. “Can you tell me what you know about them?”

Wayne closed his eyes, thinking for a moment, before standing. He searched around for a moment or two before returning with a magazine. Steve and a severe looking woman, the one from the sleeve of the book Eddie read at Steve’s home, graced the cover. “They sent these out to everyone after they were on CNN, and you know that I’m a bit of a pack rat,  so have a look.”

Eddie’s eyes flew through the article, taking in the practiced, fake smile on Steve’s face. He was younger, smaller looking in the picture. The article seemed to be against Janet Harrington, speaking of the horrible abuse and neglect inflicted onto the subject of her studies, her son. Eddie felt a wave of nausea as his eyes met a quote taken directly from the book he’d made fun of just weeks before.

I see now, even at the age of 7, that he will be nothing more than a coddled husk of a man one day, loveless and alone.

Of course Steve didn’t know he loved him, how could he? He spent his entire life being told he was unlovable, being abandoned, and Eddie had just added himself to the list of people that had let him down. He set the magazine down with shaking hands, swallowing down the urge to vomit, before picking up his phone.

“Hey, Mike?” He gripped the receiver tightly. “I um.. I have an idea of something you could do for him for Christmas.”

***

Every time Steve thought he couldn’t muster another tear, it seemed as though his brain was determined to prove him wrong. He gasped for breath between heaving cries, heartbreak swirling through his veins. Eddie didn’t want him. No one ever did. No one ever would. Maybe it was time to move on with life, maybe time to move away. He rubbed at his eye harshly. There was nowhere to go. No matter where he went he would always be ‘Janet Harrington’s poor boy’ abandoned and alone. Unlovable. Everything would be so much easier if he just didn’t exist, if he wasn’t-

The dark thought was cut off by the sound of a knock on his bedroom door. It was apprehensive and gentle, like it knew something had happened and was trying to keep calm. Like it had something to be sorry for.

“Eddie I can’t…” Steve took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“How about me?” A gruff voice mused as the door opened slowly. “Would you wanna talk to me?”

“Hopper?” Steve turned around, wiping his eyes quickly as he straightened himself out. “Sorry, I didn’t know you were here…”

“It’s alright kid, I just came to pick up El.” He gave him a gentle smile. Steve wasn’t used to seeing this side of the chief, this was the side he reserved for the kids. “She mentioned what happened.” Steve met his gaze and, despite all efforts, crumbled. His lip began to quiver and a tear slipped out as Hopper pulled him into a tight hug.

“Come home with me?” The man asked. “I don’t want you dealing with this by yourself.”

“I’ll be okay.” Steve whispered, dabbing at his nose with a tissue. “I just have to toughen up.”

“Kid if you were any tougher you’d be beef jerky.” Hopper ruffled his hair, something Steve had done to Dustin many times. “I’m not so good at this whole thing, but Joyce is. You don’t have to be alone. You’re one of our kids now.”

“I’m not a kid.” Steve winced.

“You’re barely out of your teens.” Jim sighed, shifting his weight to his other hip. “I got almost 20 years on you, you’re a kid.”

“No!” Steve pulled away suddenly. “No you don’t get to do that.” He growled in frustration, tears pricking in his eyes once more. “You don’t get to leave me alone to pick up the pieces and then reappear and act as though I should just accept it. You don’t get to pretend like me being a kid is important now. I was a kid and I had to be the grown up. You left and Joyce left and it was all on me. I don’t get the luxury of being a kid anymore, I never did! Don’t come in here and tell me that I’m allowed to let go now because if I let go-” His voice cracked. “If I let go then everyone will just leave. They’ll see that my job is done and they’ll move on without me.”

Hopper pulled him back into a tighter hug as the emotion overcame him. “I’m sorry Steve, I failed you. I knew life wasn’t good here but I couldn’t do anything about it and by the time I could, everything looked perfect from the image your family displayed.” He took a deep breath.
“But please don’t let me fail you again. You need someone to be there for you and it’s about time someone started to repay the debt. Come back with me.”

Steve nodded, feeling dizzy and dehydrated, yet finally relieved. He followed the cop to his truck, climbing in the back while El rode up front. As he watched his house grow further away, he thought of Dorothy and silently clicked his heels together.

Chapter Text

It was dark, for a start. Not the darkness that was surrounded by stars or the gentle licks of a bonfire, but the kind of darkness that consumed everything it touched, the kind that made you wonder if something was there or if it was simply your imagination. Steve was in his home, but it felt colder, like someone had left a window open. He could see his own breath in puffs in front of him, could hear the echo of a growl that made every single famous Harrington Hair stand up on end. 

So he ran.

 He ran to the safest place he could think of: His bed, under the covers. There he sat shivering, knees to chest, listening to the empty silence. He was waiting , or at least that’s what it felt like, but for what he didn’t know. He sucked in a breath as he heard a creak from the steps, whatever it was, it was getting closer. Step by step, creak by creak, it drew nearer. He pressed himself into the wall as the heat of heavy breaths reached him. He felt a tug on his blanket, before it fully ripped away, revealing evil looking red eyes. That’s when he woke up.

It was late in the summer of 1972, Steve had turned 6 just a few months prior and it was one of the rare weeks where his dad was home, rather than one of the babysitters he usually got stuck with. His feet hit the cold wood, he was never able to sleep with socks on, as he walked down the hall to his parent’s bedroom. His head was on a vigilant swivel, checking every corner of darkness for those eyes. As he reached his destination, he could hear laughter from the room behind the door. His mother had been off doing research, but she must have come home early. He reached out for the door knob, mind still half asleep, and much to his surprise, found it unlocked. 

“Steven!” His father sat up quickly, pushing a woman away from him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I um…” Steve stared at the woman as she smoothed out her hair, red marks trailing down her neck. This was not his mother. He looked back at his father’s topless form, before looking down at the floor quickly. “I had a bad dream.”

“So you thought you’d just barge in here, without knocking might I add?” Michael crossed his arms as the woman reached for a cigarette from an ashtray on the nightstand. “Well?”

“I didn’t think about it.” Steve felt heat in his cheeks. “It was just really scary. It was dark and I was by myself and something started chasing me upstairs and I was wondering if um…” He trailed off.

 His father sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. “Spit it out.” 

“I was just wondering if I could maybe sleep in here… after your friend leaves?” Steve’s eyes remained on the ground in front of him, hearing the woman scoff.

“You are far too old to be indulging in such childish behavior. Go back to bed.” His father scowled like he smelled something rotten.

“But-”

“Go.” The man’s eyes were tired but filled with annoyance. “Oh and Steven?” Michael called out. “Your mother will never hear about this or you will regret it.” Steve nodded, ignoring the woman’s giggle as he walked back to his bed, his only real safe space, and laid back down. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel the heat of the glare of the red eyes. Eyes on him, always watching. Needless to say, he didn’t get any sleep that night.

***

Joyce Byers never painted her nails. It was such a small thing, yet it was what Steve’s mind latched onto as she rubbed comforting circles on his wrist with her thumbs. His mother went for a manicure every few weeks, her nails always a light pink with white tips that screamed conservative and professional. She took such care in appearances, at all costs. Steve never had the grass stains that reflected a fun day at the park, never experienced the fun of dressing up for halloween or celebrating Christmas with ridiculous sweaters. 

Joyce never painted her nails. She had a wall with scribbled dates and lines; Will age 6, Jonathan age 12, hell even Jane age 15. Measuring their heights rather than their value. Her blouse had a loose string just hanging off the sleeve. Her sink was full of dishes and Jonathan wasn’t scrambling to get them cleaned. There was a fucking welcome mat on the front porch and photos attached to her fridge. Her hands had the rough dryness that came with working hard. Her cheeks had little wrinkles that seemed to match up perfectly with her smile. He’d grown so used to frown lines that he forgot that smiles could be permanent as well. 

Joyce Byers never painted her nails and she cut her son's hair with a bowl. The same son she noticed wasn’t there within an hour of being missing. On the rare occasions that Steve’s hair was cut, he never had much choice in the matter, he just got whatever his mother told him looked best. Looks were something so important in his home, his mother determined worth by the way a person looked. 

Joyce Byers never painted her nails, yet somehow she was worth more than he could ever hope to be. 

***

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“So I’ve heard.” Eddie winced as he paced through the hallway, phone pinned between his shoulder and his ear. “That’s why I’m calling you.”

“A smart choice.” He could feel the smug smile from the other end of the line. “I do have a bit of expertise in the field.”

“Nancy, this is pretty serious.” Eddie growled. “You were the sal-the-the-” He snapped his fingers. “The smart one at graduation alright? Tell me how I can fix it.”

“Well you need to decide first if you want to.” 

“Of course I want to, why wouldn’t I want to?” Eddie’s patience was growing thin.

“You chose to call me, right? Not Robin, not Dustin, me . You know I’m going to be the most honest with you. Is Steve worth the trouble?” He gripped the phone tightly at her words.

“Is-Is he worth it?” Eddie sputtered. “Are you fucking joking, Nance? Yes he’s worth it. He’s worth way more than that. He’s worth roses and chocolate and every other grand romantic gesture that I’m terrible at. How can you even ask me that?”

“I don’t know… you have an out, maybe take advantage of it.” She sighed, audibly flopping onto her bed.

“I don’t want an out, why can’t you understand that? I want to fix this and be happy again. I want him to be happy, to feel like he’s worth something. Hell I want to spend every mom-” He cut himself off.

“Say it again, but slower.”

“I want to spend… every moment… with him.” He processed again, the realization dawning slowly. “I want him.”

“Yep, now you got it.” Nancy was smiling, he could tell. “Sometimes it’s not a gentle push, but a shove in the right direction.” 

“You tricky little-” He blew out a puff of air. “So now what?”

“Now you do what he deserves: the romantic shit he eats up and you’re terrible at.” Nancy laughed softly.

“Any good ideas?” He scratched at the back of his head, the lights flickering slightly as the wind moved the electrical lines outside.

“Yeah right!” She snorted. “I may be the only person worse at this than you.” Eddie took a breath, thinking hard about what he had to do with only the thunder outside to keep him company.

***

“I’ll tell you something, people like you and I, Dustin too, we’re very emotionally connected people.” Joyce stirred her cup of coffee. “And some people, like Nancy, Hop, and… Eddie, are more physically drawn people. It’s like speaking multiple languages, sometimes there's miscommunication.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Steve stared into his cocoa. “I just feel like he’s been suffering to keep up this facade of wanting to be with me, like he’s felt obligated or something…”

“Oh I’m sure that’s not true, honey.” She reached over to squeeze at his hand. “That boy is crazy in many many ways, but he’s craziest about you. He’s just being a little thick right now, putting his foot in his mouth, so to speak.”

“Yeah…” Steve sighed, biting at his lip. “I’m sorry to be keeping you up, I’m sure you’re tired.”

“None of that.” She ducked down slightly to meet his eyes. “I’m a night owl. Besides, I’ve been meaning to have a little chat with you, this just happened to correlate.”

“Oh…really?” Steve furrowed his brow as he met her gaze.

“We need to have a little talk about your responsibilities.” She raised a brow as he scoffed and looked away. “I mean it, Steve, you’re taking on far too much of everyone else’s problems and neglecting your own.”

“God I wish I could.” Steve chuckled darkly, counting the mini marshmallows in his mug. “I feel like there’s 9 versions of me living in my brain and none of them have bothered to introduce themselves to me.”

“What do you mean?” She frowned.

“I’m a babysitter, a boyfriend, a son, a book character, a fighter, and it’s… God it’s exhausting.” He felt a weariness in his bones. “I don’t even know which one is the real me sometimes. They come out whenever necessary, for emergencies or whatever, but what if I’m just changing little bits of myself to match whatever situation I’m in? What if I figure it out but everyone hates the real me?”

“I want to tell you something, something kind of hard for me to talk about, but I think you’ll understand, even if you don’t quite want to hear it.” She gave him a gentle smile. “My ex used to make me feel like that. I used to love knitting, but every time I did it he would scoff or laugh. He’d always say ‘Joyce, people are going to think you’re an old woman.’ or ‘Joyce, why can’t you just relax like everyone else?’ and it got to the point where I stopped because even though it made me happy, it also always ended with me feeling pretty shitty.  Like the person I was when I felt my happiest wasn’t someone worth anyone’s time. ”

“Okay…” He took a slow sip of his cooling cocoa.

“My point is, that’s not what love is meant to feel like. I didn’t want to accept it at the time, but I think a part of me always thought that I deserved it for some reason. I deserved to be abused, because I made him deal with my little quirks.” Her eyes  had deep sadness in them. “He made me second guess every move I made and every thought I had. It wasn’t until he was gone, after the overprotectiveness I felt for my boys was wearing off,  that I could feel how much it hurt. We have blind spots to the ones we love because they’re not supposed to be the ones that hurt us. Whether intentional or not.”

“Mrs. Byers-” She scowled at him. “Uh… Joyce, I’m so, so sorry that you dealt with that, but the thing is, you’ve got it all wrong for me. I mean Eddie isn’t like that.”

“No, but your parents were.” He opened his mouth to protest. “Listen to me, Honey, okay?  You were abused, neglected, and exploited and I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with it alone for so long. You were forced into an impossible position when you were so young and expected to just be able to figure it out.” She sniffled as she continued the relentless circles on his hand. “I know it’s not much, but we’re here now. We’re here for you whether you’re 1000% sure of yourself or if you feel like you need to be reminded, because you are worth it, do you understand that? You are worth being loved.”

His eyes welled up with tears, shoulders shaking slightly as she pulled him into a hug, rubbing his back as his breathing turned to gasps. The storm raged on outside, but they felt warm, and for the first time in a while, safe.

***

Hawkins public pool was packed to the brim as temperatures spiked to 94 degrees. Steve merely cast a gaze in the direction of the delighted squeals, walking his bike in the thick, sweltering heat. The final weeks of  5th grade were quickly coming to a close, Steve almost wished he didn’t have a pool of his own. It was a silly thought, one born of privilege, but pool games weren’t as fun with just one player.  With Tommy at sleepaway camp and Carol on vacation in South Carolina, Steve was tragically and devastatingly bored.

He could feel the heat on his cheeks, his freckles surely popping out in the bright sunny rays. He knew he’d be pink and sweaty by the time he got home from his bike ride, but he looked forward to the cool allure of a popsicle.

Grape. No! Cherry , definitely cherry.

He could practically feel the numbness of the ice on his teeth, the intense sweetness he could only get away with every few months. There were some benefits to being alone. He also won every card game he played and always got to pick the movie.  In fact, the more he thought about it,the more excited he became. He would blast the Bee Gees and dance in his underwear, school was almost out and then he’d have a summer full of horror movies and smores. Except… his parents were home? 

Both of them.

He parked his bike, wiping the sweat off of his brow quickly as he adjusted his backpack. He slipped off his shoes as he entered his cool home, the air conditioner humming lightly. 

“Hello?” He called out, hanging his backpack on the hook. “Mom?”

“In the kitchen Steven.” His mother’s voice rang out. Of course, the kitchen, the place where she often spread her notes while writing. Yet as he rounded the corner, he could see her sitting quietly at a neat table. Worse yet, his father was sitting beside her. “We wanted to have a chat.”

“Well you wanted to-” Michael scoffed as Janet cast a glare in his direction.

“I wanted to see if you could remember something for me,do you think you could do that for me Stevie?” He gulped, she only called him that when she was really mad but was pretending she wasn’t. He could feel the tremble in his hands.

“I think so… yeah…” Steve nodded quickly, despite the way his father furrowed his brow.

“Splendid!” Her voice was full of false cheer. “Do you ever remember seeing someone with your father? Someone that wasn’t me?” Steve’s eyes flicked to the tense knuckles of his father, white from the tight clenched pressure.

“What do you mean?” His voice wavered.

“When I was off showing my book, working hard, were there ever any other girls in the house?” She tried again. “Maybe one that liked to kiss your dad?”

“No, I don’t think so…” Steve watched as his dad’s gaze softened slightly, smugness practically dripping from him. 

“You’re sure?” She pressed again. “Remember, lying is very evil and I will be very heartbroken if I find out that you’ve been hiding something from me.”

“I didn’t see anyone try to kiss dad.” Steve nodded. His father chuckled lightly, the ‘ I told you so’ going unsaid, as he rose from the hardwood chair. He slipped to the counter holding the coffee pot, pouring himself another mug.  “I mean the only women that were here were Ellen and Maggie.” Ellen was their housekeeper, a matronly woman with deep set wrinkles and false teeth. Maggie was his father’s assistant. 

“Maggie was here?” Janet snapped her head toward him before making a noise of disgust.

“She’s my assistant Janet, Jesus.” Michael rolled his eyes, hand landly firmly on Steve’s shoulder, a clear warning. “Besides, he already told you, no kissing.”

“Yeah they didn’t kiss, they were just laying in bed. ” His father’s fingers dug into his shoulder, but he couldn’t bear the weight of his mother’s gaze. “They were just smoking cigarettes and giggling, no kissing.”

“Wow.” His mother’s gaze turned venomous as her eyes snapped to Michel. “In front of our son. You spineless, shameless, pathetic little man.”

“He’s lying!” Michael shook Steve’s shoulder roughly, grip tight enough that it stung. “You know how he makes things up to get shit.”

“You’re unbelievable!” She pushed her chair out with a screech, heels clicking against the hardwood. “She goes or I go. Simple as that.”

“I can see the headlines now: Janet Harrington- Oh wait, you wouldn’t be a fucking Harrington anymore. Without my money, you are nothing.” Michael shoved Steve backwards, not caring that his son had fallen backwards from the force, as he advanced on his mother.

“Me. Or. Her.” She spat, not backing down. “You have until morning to fire her or I’ll get in touch with my attorney.” With that, she marched up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

The kitchen was silent, with the exception of Michael’s enraged breaths. Steve clambered to his feet, dusting his hands on his shorts. The heat of the sun was nothing in comparison to the heat of his father’s anger.
“I warned you.” He growled, advancing with a terrifying calm. “I warned you that you’d regret it.”

It was ironic that Steve could feel the wedding ring on his finger, even as the man smashed his knuckles against Steve’s temple. Steve fell backwards, head bouncing off the hardwood floor. Even as the light began to dim, he dreamed of the numbing cold of a delicious cherry popsicle.

***

Eddie Munson, against all odds, was helplessly and desperately in love. Sure, it was a hard kept secret, but it was undoubtedly love. Even if the boy  he fell so hard for was a preppy, blonde haired, blue eyed jock.Of course, he was only 10, so love meant something entirely different than it would when he was older, but right then, love felt like shared chicken nuggets and a cold pop.

Basketball was never his sport, but something fluttered in his chest as he watched his best friend score another point. 5th grade was a weird year, he’d only lived with his Uncle for about 3 years at this point and making friends was still a little hard. He was too loud, knees too knobby, and his lunch was too… government provided. He often ate his bologna sandwiches alone, banished to the corner table.

That is, until the Carver’s moved to town. Jason was the new ‘weird’ kid with the Milwaukee accent, two grades below him . His clothes were too big for his frame, he seemed to swim in them, and he was a little clumsy. Eddie remembered the moment they met eyes across the cafeteria, the look of relief as he patted the seat beside him, the small smile as Jason hurried across the room. They were friends in an instant.

They spent the summer hanging out, Jason finally growing confident enough to go in the deep end with proper encouragement from his best friend. Wayne laughed as the two boys cannon balled, splashing an older woman who was sunbathing just along the edge of the pubic pool. 

“I’m gonna do it!” Jason grinned, his two front teeth missing added a layer of charm. “I’m going to jump off the big diving board.”

“I’ll wait for you at the bottom!” Eddie smiled enthusiastically. “See if you can splash me.”

Off Jason went, climbing the ladder, nearly second guessing himself as the ground grew further away. As he stood on the edge, toes curled and looking down, he felt the familiar spike of fear in his chest. Then, he spotted a familiar mop of curls and felt a wave of comfort rush over him. He was brave and he could do this. He jumped, once, twice, and finally over the edge.

The splash was large and the impact stung a bit, but he had done it. He emerged, eyes stinging from the chlorine, and looked around. Eddie was nowhere to be seen. He swiveled, treading in the deep water, searching for the familiar face, only to find a group of older boys.

In the center of the group: Tommy Hagan and Eddie.

Eddie’s head was pushed under the surface, bubbles popping on the surface as he thrashed wildly in the grips of the other boys. Jason swam over as fast as he could, Eddie head being dragged up for a gasp of air in the meantime. 

“This is our area, not for little losers like you.” Tommy pushed down again. Eddie struggled, exhaustion evident in the slowing of his limbs. They pulled him up again. “Why don’t you call for Mommy?”

“Please stop!” He choked out, hair still covering his eyes. Jason waved desperately to the lifeguard, just barely catching his attention. The whistle blew sharply, all eyes turned to them and the group of older kids scrambled away. 

“Eddie?” Jason held onto his shoulder as fat tears spilled over Eddie’s lids. “Are you okay?”

“Everyone hates me!” He sniffled, rubbing at the chlorine in his eyes.

“Well who cares about them, I love you.” Jason smiled.

“I want to go home.” He sobbed, swimming toward the ladder, toward safety, toward Wayne. Jason followed and friendship prevailed.

A year later, Eddie had to shave his head after someone stuck a wad of gum in it as a joke. Jason shaved his in solidarity and the friendship prevailed.

In middle school, everyone began to date. Dating had no real meaning, not beyond holding hands and the empty promise of ‘forever’ that usually lasted until the end of the week. For Eddie, love meant sticking around. Wayne loved him, his dad didn’t. His mom tried her best. Still, Jason was sucked into the whirlwind of dating, to no avail. He was still the too short kid that tripped over his own feet. What girl would want to go to the dance with someone like that?

Eddie had problems of his own. Aside from being dubbed a freak by nearly everyone, he was starting to believe it himself. No one else seemed to be as interested in the dorky things he was, and they certainly weren’t as interested in other boys like he was. 

“It’s hopeless, Ed.” Jason sighed, picking at his peanut butter sandwich. “No one likes us.”

“We don’t need other people to like us, we like us just fine.” Eddie grinned. “Unless you’ve decided that you don’t like me.”

“That would never happen, you know that.” Jason rolled his eyes. “I just mean that no girls will wanna go to the dance with us.”

“Who says we have to go with a girl?” Eddie peered down at the soup on his tray. Jason stilled beside him.

“What… why would you…” Jason turned stiffly. “Why would you want to go with a guy? Not even as friends, that’s weird dude.”

“It’s not weird.” Eddie flinched. “I mean what’s so bad about a guy loving a guy instead of a girl? I mean, I love you…”

“It’s unnatural!” Jason stood quickly. “And disgusting.” With that he hurried to the trash cans and threw away his lunch before scurrying out to recess.

He ignored him during the bus ride home.

And the bus ride the next day.

He didn’t even sit with him at lunch.

It wasn’t until he sat with another group of kids that Eddie felt the angry swirl of betrayal in his gut. He stalked his way across the cafeteria, eyes on him, and tapped on Jason’s shoulder.

“Ew don’t touch me freak.” Jason shoved his hand away in disgust. “I don’t want to catch what you have.”

This time the friendship didn’t prevail. Eddie vowed he would never, ever, feel love like that again. It only ended in pain.

***

Light filtered through Steve’s eyelids, and with a groan, he heaved them open. A nurse stood over him, fiddling with the wires attached to him.

“Well well well, look who decided to join us.” She smirked as he squinted up at her. “I was beginning to think I’d never find out what eye color you had.”

“Hazel.” He wheezed. “Just like my dad.”

“So it would seem.” She smiled warmly. “How are you feeling kiddo?”

“My head hurts.” He lifted his hand toward his forehead but she pushed it away gently before it could reach it’s destination.

“Let’s not mess up the bandages, okay?” He nodded. “Wonderful, I’m going to call your doctor, but first let me fill you in on what happened, okay sweetie?”

“Yes ma’am.” She grinned at his politeness.

“Your dad mentioned that you were sitting on one of the barstools against the island in your kitchen and you were rocking back on the back two legs, when it tipped and you smacked your head on the floor. You fell asleep for a while and lost a little bit of blood, but we patched you up. Now, what makes this a little more tricky, when you were a little baby you fell down the steps and bumped your noggin. Your brain can only take so much of that.”

“Okay…” He winced, the lights burning at his eyes.

“So sometimes our brains do weird things when they get hurt, we’re still trying to figure out why, but sometimes they cause something called seizures. You had one a little while after your dad brought you in. We got you all sorted, but for right now we’re not really sure why, so we just want to keep an eye on you, sound good?” He was lost, to be honest, the speed of her words mixed with his splitting headache led him to miss about half of that.

“Where are my parents?” He mumbled, sleep pulling at his eyelids.

“Well, they had important business that couldn’t be canceled. They said you would understand, and they sent for Ellen to keep an eye on you.” Her eyes looked a little sad. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah… I understand.” His voice was soft, but his heart ached. He desperately wanted his mother, the hospital felt impossibly large and scary without someone there that knew him. “Can I sleep now?” 

“Well the doctor should be here in a few minutes, but after that, it won’t hurt.” She nodded, writing something in his chart. “I’ve read about you before, you know. You’re my most famous patient.”

“You must not have many patients.” He grumbled. “I’d rather not talk right now, my head hurts.”

“I understand.” With a curt nod, she moved out to the nurses station in the hall.

His father had warned him, so really the crack in his skull was his fault. He wished he could pretend that he could be the tough grown up his parents desperately begged him to be, but in that moment, as his legs couldn’t reach the end of the hospital bed, he never felt more alone.

***

The sound of thuds stirred him from his doze. Never a nice sound. Not after everything they’d been through. It was dark, the wind howling, storm raging, and his home was full of people that counted on him for protection, not that they couldn’t handle themselves.

Thud.

There it was again, the sound of something bouncing off the window.

Eddie stood below the outer ledge, scooping more rocks into his hands to pelt at the glass. 

“ Steve!” He hissed, it was around 8 and he didn’t want to be too loud. He was trying to avoid too much negative attention these days, what with the murder allegations and such.

“Munson, you had better have a damn good explanation.” The window opened, only to reveal a very peeved looking Jim Hopper.

“Chief… I um… I thought this was the room that um… Is Steve there?” Eddie lowered the hand that held the pebble, rain dripping off the tips of his hair.

“He’s safe.” Jim scowled, tone clipped.

“Look, I know I royally fucked up, I want to try to set it right.” He huffed.

“Let me guess…” Jim gestured to the yellow wilted flowers clutched in his left hand. “You thought you’d go old school?”

“I didn’t know how else to show him, okay? I’m not good at- Listen, I am loving this whole Romeo and Juliet thing we’re working right now, but I’m soaked, freezing my ass off, and frankly, I want to snuggle with my boyfriend, can I just come in?”

Eddie could hear someone else in the room, Joyce he supposed, whispering something to Jim. She didn’t sound thrilled either. 

“Come to the back porch.” The police chief called down. So Eddie went around back and waited by the locked wooden door to be let in. It swung open harshly.

“Jesus, took you 8 ye- Steve.” Eddie’s dark brown eyes met Steve’s red rimmed hazel.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Steve blocked the entrance into the home, into his heart. The back porch was as close as Eddie was allowed to come. The rain continued to fall on him, coating his long eyelashes in tiny drops.

“I wanted to apologize.” Eddie sighed, feeling a bit foolish as he pulled out the dime store chocolate and the crushed flowers. “I know this isn’t the best… It’s not what you deserve, but I wanted to try.”

“Why?” Steve’s arms were crossed tightly.

“Why?” Eddie’s brow furrowed. “Steve, you have to kno-”

“I thought you wouldn’t be happy with a simple life, so why are you trying so hard? It’s clearly not something you want.” Steve hissed.

“Love, it came out wrong okay? I wasn’t thinking about you when I said that.” Eddie knew this wouldn’t be easy but he wasn’t prepared for how much he had hurt Steve.

“You never say it.” Steve whispered, hurt bleeding out with a catch in his throat as he peered down at his shoes.  “All this time and you never say you love me. Why? Why be with me if you don’t love me? Is it because you pity me or something? Believe me, enough people in my life have walked away from me because they stopped caring, I can handle another. Save us both the trouble.”

“You’re Oz.” Eddie tilted Steve’s head up gently until their eyes met. “You think you’re Kansas, but you’re not. I said that I would never be able to experience Oz and go back to Kansas. I want and I need you to understand that you're Oz.”

“Eddie-”

“Stevie, babe, I love you so much it terrifies me.” Eddie’s tone was serious. “I don’t do so well with saying it because every person I’ve said it to, except for Wayne, has figured out that I’m too much. I don’t want you to regret it, okay? If I say it, it becomes real, and when it becomes real you start to notice that I’m not the person I pretend to be.” 

“I don’t care about who you pretend to be.” Steve stepped outside. “I have never cared. I just wanted you and I wanted you to want me.”

“I’m sorry I fucked this up so much…” Eddie gave a humorless laugh. “But I want to try again. Insecurity aside, I wanna give you the works. The full rom com special, if you’ll have me.”

“Only if it’s something you want.” Steve smiled. “Only if you’re okay with the man behind the curtain.”

“It’ll take some brains, some heart, and a whole lotta courage,” Eddie groaned at his own cheesiness. “But I think I wanna make a home with you.”

“I’d like that.” Steve grinned and leaned in for a kiss. It was all teeth, as they couldn’t stop smiling, and the rain had soaked them to the bone, but it was perfect. “Let's get warm and dry off.”

***

Nancy Wheeler was bored. Her father insisted upon watching the most asinine programs, from fishing shows to sitcoms, nothing piqued her interest.

As she sat on the sofa, going through photographs for the school’s yearbook, her ears picked up on a familiar name. Her eyes shot up as she glanced at the screen. In an instant she dropped the photos and ran for the landline.

***

“Alright Nance, relax, he said he’s sorry. We’re fine.” Steve chuckled into the line. He was burrowed into Eddie’s side, Jim watching a rerun of M*A*S*H on the recliner beside the sofa.

“Yeah, great, but I need you to listen.” Nancy sounded panicked. “Turn to channel 8.”

“Alright…” Steve sighed. “Hey Hop, can I see the remote real quick? Nancy wants us to see something on channel 8.” 

Hopper tossed him the remote, it landed with a sharp thud on Eddie’s knee, much to his annoyance. Steve held the phone to his ear as he hit the rubber number on the remote. “This had better be good Nanc-”

“-lo everyone, my name is Carlotta Reese.” The woman looked like she had a lot of work done. “ On this week’s episode of ‘Where are they now?’ We focus on Steve Harrington, son of the infamous Dr. Janet Harrington. I had my guys do some field research and boy do we have a lot to discuss. Starting,” She gestured to a photo in her hand. “With this.” 

As the camera zoomed in to a picture of Eddie and Steve kissing in the park, Nancy heard the phone fall to the ground with a loud thump before the line went dead.