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“Steve, dear, your father and I will be gone for a few weeks. If you need us, reach out, honey,” his mom pats him gently on the cheek, smiling at him. The unspoken agreement that she meant to reach out to her, not dad, reaches his ears and he sighs, nodding in acquiescence. She sniffs tearfully and reaches her arms out to him for a hug. Not one to deny her, he pulls her in, rubbing her back.
“Suzanne, are you ready to leave?” Dad calls from the front entrance. Mom backs out of the hug and cradles his face in her hands, eyes tracing it like she was trying to memorize what he looks like before she left. Steve leans into her hold and relaxes, before pulling her hands away. His dad hadn’t said a word to him during the brief time they visited, which was honestly a relief. Anything to escape the constant vitriol of the man.
“I love you, Stevie,” she sniffs again before grabbing her purse and leaving for the door. His shoulders slump in relaxation and disappointment, watching her back until she disappears.
“I love you too, mom.”
His hands clench next to his sides, wanting desperately to run after her and drag her back inside. To take her away from that man, where they can both live peacefully away from his anger. Steve takes a deep breath, puffing out his chest and grabbing his phone. He methodically dials Tommy’s number, twisting the cord around his finger as he waits for the boy to answer. His eyes go over the pristine living room in front of him, a sign of his parents visiting that wouldn’t last for more than a day.
“Steve? What’s up, man?” Tommy’s rough, sleepy voice greets his ear and something foreign makes him shiver.
“The parents are gone. Party at my place tonight, Tommy.”
**
“I don’t like Tommy, Steve. I don’t like who you turn into around him,” Nancy frowns, looking up at him with magnanimous eyes. He stiffens, his mouth turning down in an almost-frown before he catches himself.
“Could you... explain what you mean?” He sighs, trying not to get angry. The inherent need to let the simmering emotion in his veins boil over tempts him, but he holds back. He can’t be like dad.
She rests a hand on his arm, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. “He brings out the worst in you, Steve. It’s like you become an entirely new person. I just want the you that you are when we’re alone.”
Guilt chokes him when he realizes that the Steve she wants is an entirely censored version, scrubbed clean of anything that reminds him of dad in the hopes that she won’t turn into mom, no matter how much she reminds him of her. He smiles, hoping it comes off as reassuring, and nods at her.
“I’ll stop hanging out with him then. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Nance. I didn’t realize-” She cuts him off with a kiss, holding his face so gently, he felt like crying. Yes, this is why he does this. It’s all worth it if she treats him like this.
“It’s okay that you didn’t know, Steve. I didn’t expect you to,” she coos at him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. Something soft and fuzzy furls inside him as he basks in her affection.
His hands circle her waist, pulling her close to him. He’ll miss Tommy but Nancy is safe. He’s expected to spend time with her because she’s his girlfriend. He got lingering stares when Tommy used to spend the night, a fact that made him feel like he was rotting from the inside out.
Nancy’s hands aren’t as rough and she’s much more hesitant to touch him, but she can still give him the touch he craves. She can still make him feel wanted.
Mom went through this, he reassures himself. Mom had friends she had to get rid of when she started dating his dad. Her whispered secrets late at night about the friends she held hands with and felt vulnerable about circles his mind.
If she went through this, it couldn’t be something bad. He’ll miss Tommy and whisper about their friendship to his kids, when Nancy has them. About how Tommy held all his secrets securely in his mind. How Tommy would brush away his tears when they were kids and later when his parents started leaving for months at a time. He’ll miss Tommy, and he hopes Tommy misses him too.
“Thank you for listening, Steve. I know you have a past, but I think you can be so good,” Nancy whispers, pressing her lips to his neck. He sighs, squeezing her tighter against him. I can be good, he thinks, if I love Nancy.
Maybe the reason his dad became such a bad person is because he doesn’t love mom. He never loved her, only needed to meet expectations. A wife, child, and white picket fence. Maybe he’d be a better person if he loved mom like Steve loves Nancy.
**
“Steve,” his mom sighs, her hands clutched together.
His eyes drop to the floor at her disappointment, feeling it sharp like a fire poker against his chest. They had come home early, before he had time to clean up after another party, and after seeing the mess, dad turned a bright red and ranted for at least half an hour.
“I just wish you wouldn’t provoke him, sweetheart. You’re a good boy, your father just has high expectations of you,” she smiles weakly, eyes still taking in the disaster of a living room.
Expectations that are impossible to reach, her eyes say. He holds her hands, smoothing out her tense fingers. “It won’t happen again. I don’t want to make things hard for you, mom,” he says. That dad would make things infinitely harder when upset goes unsaid. Her eyes soften and she clicks her tongue, brushing his hair away from his face.
“What am I going to do with you, Stevie?” He relaxes, knowing that he’s forgiven. If she forgives me, I’m a good person, he thinks.
“I’ll clean up. Might be able to finish before dad comes back down.” From where he’d hidden away in his office.
“I’ll help you, sweetheart,” she pats his shoulder, making her way to the cleaning supplies.
As they dance around each other, cleaning up after random teenagers that made their way into his party last night, they move in tandem. They’re in tune with each other, knowing what the other needs and where they would move to next. The room is quiet except for a few whispered comments as they work, not wanting to draw the attention of dad.
He wishes things were always this way. Even if mom had settled for dad like she was meant to, he wishes they could spend more days like this, in the same space, without the atmosphere tainted by the man.
He remembers when mom used to stay home with him during dad’s endless business trips. They would stay up late baking, laughing at the mess they made. She used to paint his nails, winking at him because it was their little secret. He’d sleep in her bed and be cradled against her chest as they dozed. They would sweep through the entire house together the night before dad was supposed to come back home, cleaning up any messes, including his little painted fingernails.
After he found out about their messes when he came home early, mom left with him on his trips. “Relying on your mother won’t help you become a man, Steven.” The bitter aftertaste of the man taking his mom from him burns something inside, something angry. He wants to yell and fight, but that’s what dad would do, so he can’t.
“Can you pass me the rag, sweetheart?” He does so wordlessly, smiling at her with endless fondness.
**
Steve rests his head against the locker, breathing in the smell of sweat and blood. Tommy’s unkind jeers invade his mind, and he feels his eyes begin to burn. Clenching his teeth, he straightens up and pushes out his chest. He can’t afford to be seen as weak, even if mom used to hold him so softly and dab the tears off his face with her flowery handkerchief. There’s no one to kiss and soak his tears up here, no matter how much his gentle heart aches for it.
‘You must be tough, my sweet boy. The world is mean and cruel to people like you. They want to make you just as mean and unhappy as they are. Hide away your good and others can’t spoil you.’
Tommy wasn’t one of those people. Steve could share his good with him and not fear being spoiled in return. He used to feel like liquid fire around Tommy, the inherent love and trust between them practically connected their minds.
But Nancy. Nancy is safe and kind; she doesn’t like Tommy. She doesn’t understand that good people hide to be safe. Just like Steve. She wears her good like armor, daring anyone to try to spoil her. He doesn’t think anyone could. Nancy is strong enough to not need to hide. Unlike mom, Steve, and Tommy. He wonders if she resents him for not being as strong. He wonders if ignoring Tommy is being strong or if he’s being mean again.
Her soft hands touch his side and his heart flutters. ‘Does it really matter if I’m nice or mean’, he thinks, ‘as long as Nancy is around?’
“Are you alright, Steve?” She looks so fond, his heart breaks. How could he ever deserve her attention? With all that he’s done, all that he’s seen. His violence and mean sealing up his cracked skin like a rotting kintsugi bowl.
He smiles at her; a fragile, wary thing unlike so many of his plastic, clean smiles he gives others. “I’m fine, Nance. Tired.” Tired of hiding, tired of being mean. Tired of everyone but her. She pats his arm pityingly. Surely, she understands. She’s so smart and lovely, she’s able to see under the monstrous armor he wears.
“I’m proud of you, you know. All this work you’re putting into studying and how you’ve been acting,” she slides her hand against his, lacing their fingers together. Sunshine blooms in his chest, choking him with happiness. She’s proud of him. She sees how hard he’s working. He rubs his thumb against her hand, indulging in her goodness and wishing, not for the first time, that they were the same person.
He wants to meld his body against hers and melt their forms together. He settles for kissing the top of her head.
**
“Steven, I’m expecting you to do better in the future,” Dad’s stern face greets him when he gets home.
He privately thinks that if dad wanted him to do better, he would’ve been around to show him what ‘doing better’ meant. In Nancy’s eyes, he is doing better. Saying that would only make things harder for mom though, and he’d never want that.
“Yes, dad,” he says, straightening his posture and meeting his eyes. Slouching or making himself smaller never works when he’s around dad, even if the response feels natural and appropriate. Dad frowns, his serious face wrinkling in what could be mistaken as concern. A mistake Steve has made once before and never again.
His hand feels huge resting against Steve’s shoulder. “You can still make me proud, I know.”
Is dad a man he wants to be proud of him? A resounding ‘no’ answers that question, but he also doesn’t want to disappoint him. He can remember a time where dad would sit him on his lap and show him the work he was doing. He’d explain patiently, a large hand on his back helping him balance, what he was doing and why it was important. Steve’s sure the man thought these lessons would make him smarter, but he was too busy basking in attention he so rarely got from the other.
That was then, and this is now. There are no more soft-spoken lessons with a gentle, warm hand guiding him through paperwork.
“Stevie, dear. I wish you wouldn’t provoke him, you know,” mom tells him later, softly petting his cheek, her big eyes watching him imploringly. His shoulders slump, wishing he could tell her about how hard he’s working. He’s doing good, Nancy said so. But mom wants him to hide the good, so he doesn’t say a word.
Her teary eyes feel acidic against his arm as she hugs him. Tears that could’ve been prevented if dad was good. ‘To make him proud is to be just as mean as him’, he thinks.
The sharp perfume of yet another secretary invades his senses as dad walks past, barely looking at the pair of them. Mom shakes in his arms, her weary, broken form falling apart by the second.
If mom had a Nancy, she wouldn’t be broken. She would still be good.
**
Steve watches carefully as Tommy makes his way towards him. The usual confidence in the boy’s gait is missing today. Unsure and staggered steps follow him.
When they’re face to face, Tommy searches him, his eyes piercing. Steve doesn’t know if he will like what he finds, looking that close at his ugly facade. Tommy’s hand reaches up, his fingertips rubbing against his jaw. Steve shivers at the touch, his eyes feeling heavy. He shouldn’t allow it, he knows. This should be a feeling only Nancy gives him. But his heart hurts.
“I miss you, Stevie. Why’d you go away, huh?” Tommy looks wounded, his doe eyes catching Steve’s like a wicked snare.
Steve ducks his head, his breath stuttering. He wants, yearns, to bury himself in Tommy’s arms and feel his touch drown out all other sensations. How could this be anything but good? Tommy is so sweet and loving. He whines, his nose burying against Tommy’s neck. The boy huffs, his hands resting on Steve’s hips.
His heart races in his chest, thudding painfully. ‘Wrong wrong wrong’ squirms its way into his brain and carves a place there. “I’m scared, Tommy,” he whispers, “I feel so much around you and I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too, man.”
Steve sniffles and tilts his head back, baring his neck to the boy. “Nancy is safe. She’s not you, but she’s safe. Like Carol is safe for you,” he implores Tommy to understand. He can’t bear the thought of Tommy thinking he hates him, even if Nancy doesn’t like him. Fingers rub his hips, pressing bruises into his soft skin.
“I get it, Stevie. I’m not happy, but I get it. I’ll get Carol to back off.”
Relief fills his form, he slumps against Tommy, tears burning his eyes. Unspoken whispers of ‘I love you, I’ll miss you, I want you’ fill the space between them. Tommy’s lips brush his forehead and he sighs, pressing his own against the boy’s neck.
**
Nancy is drunk, her edges spilling out of her body. Mean drips out. Bad paints her expressions. Flashes of his dad invade his vision as he watches her, begging her to sober up and drink water.
"You're pretending like everything's okay. Like we didn't kill Barb! Like we're in love, and we're partying. It's bullshit."
His brain works frantically to catch up with her. She’s always so smart. Smarter than him.
“Like we’re in love?”
“It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit!”
He squares his shoulders and pushes out of the room to find Byers. The two seem close, and despite how wrong, bad, mean Nancy has felt recently, they need each other right now. He pulls Nancy along with him and pushes her in the direction of the boy.
“Here, get her out of here.”
After they’ve left, he closes himself off in a closet, sliding against the wall and resting on the floor.
‘Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.’
He’s bullshit and their love was bullshit, and he gave up everything for someone that ruined him. He’s just like mom. Nancy is just like dad. He’s another good person being torn apart by someone bad.
Clutching at his head, his nails dig into his skin. He wants to tear it off and peel away every part of himself that he let Nancy expose. He has no armor anymore, nothing to hide his good, and no one to stand beside him to protect him either because he let her drive Tommy away.
Tommy that made him so happy and sparked fire in his veins but is now pushing Billy at him.
The pain of being replaced and thrown aside by two different people in his life weighs down on him heavily, stopping him from picking his head up and walking outside of the hole he’s hidden himself in. What will he do tomorrow? He’ll have to hide again, but he won’t be able to do the same as before. Nothing in his life could be the same after Nancy came into it.
He thuds his head against the wall, his face wet with tears. He clenches his fists in his hands to ground himself. The noise of the party floods through the crack in the door and makes his head hurt. He can hear Tommy’s laughter, loud and confident unlike how he’s been recently, followed by Billy’s own low, growly laugh.
He needs to get out of here fast.
**
“I’m so sorry, Stevie. I know you wanted us to be here for your birthday but you know your father. I taking me on this wonderful trip to Bali,” she smiles at him, holding his cheek gently. His heart feels like it’s withering away in his chest. Dad has been acting so nice to her; apologizing for what he’s done, spending quality time with her away from work. Something dark and wretched in him feels jealous for what she’s getting.
The fact that Nancy didn’t give him the same.
“I’m happy for you, mom, really. Enjoy your trip,” he holds her hand against his face, trying not to let his tenseness show.
“Come, dear. The flight is soon and I don’t want to be caught up in the mess. Keep the house clean while we’re gone, Steven. I’ll mail you your birthday check.” Dad pats his shoulder stiffly, as awkward as Steve himself felt when interacting with the other.
He nods, turning towards his bedroom. With his parents gone, there’s really no denying the truth anymore. He’s alone and has no one to turn to. He sobs into his pillow, his polite mask breaking until there’s nothing left.
His throat burns from the strain and a headache blooms at his temples.
He has school tomorrow.