Archive of Our Own ^beta

SUMMARY: You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

-:-:-:-:-

You deeply sighed in relief as you closed the apartment door, pressing your back against it with a soft thud.

To say you were tired was an understatement.

Running countless errands—personal ones, to be specific—for your boss was a task and a half all on its own. Now, doing it in your 'office uniform' that wasn't of your choosing, one that consisted of an itchy, frilly, long-sleeved blouse tucked into an uncomfortable, pleated, long skirt and some kitten heels?

It felt like you'd just gone through hell and back.

Your feet were killing you. In fact, the whole expanse of your legs were aching and you hadn't even touched on how tired your arms were. You honestly couldn't wait to take a long, hot shower to finally relax your sore muscles and—

"Fucking finally, you're back."

Your cousin suddenly appeared, stopping in the mirror by the hallway to wipe the smudged purple lipstick on the corner of her mouth. She shooed you out of the way to grab her coat, your close-to-dead feet stumbling further into the space.

She was dressed...interestingly. It was more the color combination—green blouse, purple skirt, orange coat—than anything else, but still. She was probably off to a date with some guy she met who knows where.

"I'm off to a second date with Phil," she confirmed your suspicion. You could only guess he was just as interesting as she was if it got to a second date. "Oh, and dishes don't do themselves so get on with it!"

"I didn't even—" You got cut off by the front door slamming shut. "—use any dishes for the whole day."

You sighed.

It wasn't anything new, unfortunately. Still, you'd been hopeful enough that she would have a change of heart, especially when she clearly knew you just got home from work.

But obviously not.

Then again, she was a trust fund baby. You supposed she hadn't really worked a day in her life, let alone be able to understand how grueling and tiring a job can be.

You kicked off your heels, undoing the top few buttons of your blouse and pulling it out of your skirt to let yourself breathe. Rolling your aching shoulders and neck, you trudged straight into the kitchen barefooted, the cold floor somewhat soothing to the aching balls of your feet.

It was probably naive of you—knowing who you lived with—to think that it would only be a few plates and cutlery that needed to be loaded in the washer. After all, she was just one person. But as you reached the sink, your heart just about leaped out of your chest and squeezed itself down the drain.

You were greeted by a whole stack of dishes, mugs, plates, utensils, pots and pans alike. There wasn't a lot because again, there weren't many people living in this place. It was just the two of you with a few extras for when she had people over. But you didn't have to check to know that the cupboards were already half empty.

You looked up at the ceiling, deep inhale, sharp exhale, blinking away the burning behind your eyes.

And as you rolled up your sleeves, shoulders slumped with exhaustion, everything human in you somewhat switched off. All movements turned robotic, a must if you wanted to make it through—well, without breaking down, anyway.

There was nothing like being with family, they said.

Some cousins were an exception to that apparently. What more distant ones?

It wasn't too bad, you supposed, because it honestly could be worse. Hell, you'd seen and survived through worse.

An obnoxious, bratty cousin was nothing compared to the horrors you'd faced in the Upside Down twice. 

It was simply a minor inconvenience you had to face, especially when you'd only been paying a quarter of the rent in this otherwise good apartment. Well, you had your own room with an en suite bathroom, you were free to use the kitchen whenever, and you could even lounge in the living room and go through as many VHS tapes as you pleased.

There was no denying it was a good deal, especially here in New York where everything was extra expensive

And even if you knew her parents paid for everything, and that the 'rent' you were giving her was going straight into her own pocket, you couldn't find it in you to complain.

Besides, the initial plan was to only be here for a few months. It was more than enough for something temporary, to allow yourself to get a feel of the city before any permanent decisions.

But god was living with a lazy piece of slob who thought so highly of herself a pain in the fucking ass.

If your internship managed to go the long way, you'd definitely start looking for your own place.

A rock settled in your chest at the thought, one that grew heavier as you finally slipped into your room.

You couldn't help it. Not when you were greeted by a cold, empty space instead of the usual warmth of loving arms and a sweet, familiar smell that followed a certain mass of hair.

Somehow, the weight on your shoulders was heavier than before as you tread into your bathroom to finally take that much-needed shower.

Living in New York was 'the' goal, ever since you were a little girl. Well, it was more, getting-out-of-the-small-town-to-do-big-things than anything else, and you would've gone anywhere as long as it was away. Being able to be in one of America's largest cities was just a plus.

The paid internship was okay. You supposed, with a promise of something better, something stable and permanent that would lead to a brighter future ahead, it was great.

That was what you kept telling yourself anyway, even though you'd mostly been a personal assistant to your boss than actually doing things that fit your job description, let alone the betterment of the company.

You were an intern, right at the bottom of the food chain. So you didn't have much power to take the problem to anyone, not unless you wanted to risk throwing the job away.

The friend who recommended the position was in a different department, so they didn't know what was going on. You couldn't find it in you to tell them either, not without sounding too whiny. They'd already given you a big enough opportunity that others would kill for, you didn't want to seem ungrateful in the slightest.

Other than that, you couldn't find the strength to put a damper on everyone else's joy and pride. 

Your parents had gushed to just about everyone about having a child that lived and worked—very important that one—in The Big Apple. You were sure everyone in Hawkins already knew about it.

While you couldn't give a single shit about what people thought, that still didn't make it easier to face inevitable questions as to why you came back when you finally got out.

When it came to your found family, the kids had grins too proud to match the glints in their eyes when you told them the news. Albeit the emotions were high from the simple fact that you'd be moving away—saving the world and facing death together simply brought a different kind of bond—it was still unmistakable how they looked up to you. A quick glimpse over your shoulder as you got in the car gave you enough proof that they wanted to follow in your footsteps. It was written all over their faces.

So you couldn't find it in yourself to be the one to snuff out their youthful hopes, to break the news that being an adult wasn't as great as everyone made it out to be. You couldn't do that after everything they'd already gone through.

You couldn't disappoint them. 

With the rest of your closer-in-age friends, you knew they'd be able to understand better—Nancy, Robin, hell, even Eddie. But you supposed, that was where the pride kicked in. Too proud to admit that you were able to kickass facing interdimensional creatures but the second you got to fetch laundry for your boss for the third time this week, you were already close to tears. You knew they'd never judge you nor would they ever hold it against you, but again, pride was a tricky little thing.

And then Steve.

He was probably the proudest of them all when he found out. Wearing that badge on his puffed out chest, chin held high and showing everyone just how goddamn amazing—his words, not yours—his girlfriend was.

He'd been so happy for you, so reassuring and supportive. He'd been by your side throughout the whole process, practically bouncing with excitement that you'd think he was the one who got the internship himself.

You knew Steve was the last person to ever even dream of making you feel like you were disappointing him, especially when you were choosing something for the sake of your well being. But our brains tend to tell two different stories, and for whatever reason, we usually gravitate towards the negative one.

If you were to tell him the full truth of what was going on with you right now, you could picture him already in his car sporting his pajamas, ready to travel the whole 11 hours to either face your boss himself or take you right back to Hawkins with him, no questions asked.

Could even be both, to be honest.

Which led to this whole other predicament.

You'd already gone too far digging this hole that you were okay and happy here. And Steve, ever the supportive boyfriend, had already begun saving up to follow you if ever it became permanent.

He'd been too excited about the idea of it, hopeful that maybe, he'd find what he wanted to do outside of Hawkins too, with you.

But you were, in some way, dreading to find out what would happen if he actually got here. Would he start to love it but somehow you would still end up hating it? What if his warm presence still wasn't enough to thaw the coldness that New York City brought?

What then?

Of course you wanted the both of you to live together—hell, you wanted it since your previous life. Besides, you practically lived at his house, anyway.

But in this specific circumstance, especially here, it just didn't seem...right. It felt too rushed, forced, rather than feeling like it's run its natural course.

And on top of all of that, you didn't want Steve to worry by telling him the complete truth. He already had too much on his plate. Past traumas—most of those you shared—his asshole parents, worrying about the kids, being on high alert in case something happens again. He already had enough to deal with.

You hadn't even begun to touch on the things he wasn't ready to share with you. You knew he was having some troubles, especially these past couple of weeks. But being the stubborn, 'tough guy' that he set himself out to be, it usually took some time for him to let it all out.

Besides, this was good, right? Being here seemed like you were finally getting somewhere in your life.

Small town girl making it big in the city.

This was the dream.

But why did it not make you happy?

The sound of the telephone ringing snapped you out of your thoughts.

You quickly dried yourself off, hanging your towel on your desk chair before rummaging around your drawers for something comfy and warm enough to wear to sleep. You plopped onto your bed after getting changed, rushing to pick up your private telephone line—which was definitely another one of the perks.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is this Y/N's secretary speaking? Yeah, yeah, me, again. Look, I know you don't really do favors and stuff but could you maybe slide me anywhere in her schedule? I'll even take the middle of the night. I know, I know, she's extra busy, but tell city girl that it's that guy, you know, really, really, nice hair, dashing smile, the one she's hopelessly in love with—"

"Steve," you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head at your boyfriend's antics. "And stop calling me 'city girl,' it's weird."

It was astonishing how his laugh made all the tension in your body disappear.

The sound alone was definitely much, much warmer and comforting than that hot shower you just took.

"It's romantic!" he defended, and you could practically hear his grin in the receiver. "City girl, small town boy, falling in love, it's like a movie."

"You're a dork."

You didn't even notice any difference in your tone. Or perhaps you let out that sigh much heavier than you'd intended to. Or maybe it was simply because it was Steve on the phone. But whatever it was, he managed to pick up on it.

"Long day?"

Your heart swelled at the sweet softness in his tone, growing at the simple fact of how attentive and caring Steve was when it came to you.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "You could say that."

You heard shuffling on the other line, and you could only deduce it to him getting comfortable, especially when he asked,

"Go on, lay it on me."

You thought for a moment.

"Fratricide is for killing your brother," you said, choosing to start with something that was much easier to rant about. "You think there's a word for killing your cousin?"

Steve laughed, "Damn, I should start the car now."

"Why?" you frowned, not wanting to let him go when you just talked to him.

"Well, I'd need to get there as soon as possible to help you hide the body."

You threw your head back with a hearty laugh. His tone was light and playful, yet you couldn't fully say that he was entirely joking.

"You'd actually do that for me?" you asked at the end of your giggles.

Steve didn't even miss a beat.

"I'd do anything for you."

"I'd do anything for you too, Steve," you said, voice coated with sincerity.

You heard him chuckle, a shy one, but endearing nonetheless. Your chest warmed at that. Though it was swift to be replaced by that longing ache, missing the way you got to see those lovely brown eyes twinkle whenever you'd say anything remotely sweet to him. It would always be followed by the tinting of his cheeks, a pinkish hue to match his lips, sporting that glowing smile.

Before that rock could even have the chance to curl back into your stomach, you attempted to lighten the mood.

"Well..." you hummed, keeping your tone light. "Maybe not jumping into some cold, murky lake in the dead of the night to save your ass, but anything else, I'd do."

Your joke didn't land as well as you'd hoped.

Steve didn't say anything, nothing except a shaky breath.

Usually, whenever you'd tease him about those moments, it's always followed by a loud scoff and a witty quip. It was simply an attempt at using humor to cope, which you both have done many times before. Besides, you knew each other's boundaries well by now. And if any of you crossed the line, the other had no problem calling it out.

Steve's silence in itself was uncanny. But him ignoring it completely? It was worrying.

"What did your cousin do this time?"

You knew it was a deflection, but you decided not to push.

Opening up to someone had never been easy for him. With parents who were barely even there physically—what more emotionally—leading to growing up mostly alone, to then be surrounded by so-called 'friends' who never truly cared about him apart from societal gain, it shouldn't come off as a surprise that dealing with emotions, sharing them, was a task and a half.

It took a while for Steve to be vulnerable with you, and it required a lot of patience—even to this day.

But you knew he'd tell you when he was ready. So, you indulged his question, poured to him all your complaints, from the dishes to your cousin's holier-than-thou attitude, carefully leaving out the reason as to why you were so tired from work.

Steve merely hummed to remind you he was still listening, throwing in an occasional chuckle here and there. In hindsight, he definitely was quieter than normal. But you got too heated and annoyed to take notice during the moment.

You were about to get to her interesting outfit choice when suddenly, you heard it.

A sniffle.

You wouldn't have thought much of it if it wasn't followed by a cough, too forced as if it was done to hide something.

"Steve?"

There was a pause, and then a deep intake of breath.

"...yeah?"

"You okay?"

That earned you a choked whimper.

You only ever heard that sound once or twice from him. But it was more than enough times to cement itself in your memory. Because whenever it would hit your ears, it would always, always and immediately squeeze your heart.

"Steve…" you whispered, frown deepening. "You're crying."

"Shit." You heard shuffling on the other end, something being crumpled, and then, a shaky sigh, "Can never hide anything from you, huh?"

"I just know you so well," you said, frowning.

"Yeah," he breathed out. "Yeah, you do."

"Was it my joke? Shit, I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to upset you—"

"N-No, no, it's not," he reassured, tone rough. "And I mean, it's been a year, we're the ones who went through that shit. I think we're allowed to joke about it—we have, so many times."

"Okay, so," you started. "What's wrong?"

"Uhm, it's nothing." He cleared his throat, yet his voice still came out hoarse. "Just miss you...so much."

"I miss you too," you whispered. "Hey, Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"Full honesty?"

You heard him take a deep breath.

It was something you two had promised each other way back when, that whenever the other would ask that simple two-word question, it was an open invitation to spill it all out. No worrying about judgment, no sugarcoating, just the full truth, laid out raw and real.

Of course, there was no pressure. If nobody was ready to say anything, then that was okay, too. It was only a way to remind the other that you were there to listen.

You expected Steve to need a bit more time with whatever it was that bothered him. And you would've understood that wholeheartedly.

But just as you were about to tell him exactly that, Steve broke, the already cracked dam was unable to withstand the overwhelming pressure after holding everything in for far too long.

"I hate it. I hate being so far away from you," he admitted, voice shaking. "It fucking kills me inside and I can't keep pretending anymore. I can't keep acting like I'm fine not having you near me because I'm not."

"Steve..." you whispered, his words like sharp claws finding their way to sink into your heart.

"I'm not okay," he choked out a sob. "I'm not fucking okay."

The grip tightened, ripping your heart in half, letting it sink into the pit of your stomach as your eyes welled up at the absolute hurt that coated every single letter he just spoke.

It caught you off-guard, something you hated to admit because it only meant you hadn't paid attention enough.

But he seemed fine.

When you shared the news, when you started packing, when he rented a van so he could drive you all the way to New York, turning it into a road trip with just you and him. When he helped you settle in your room, when he took that walk with you to see the city. Hell, even when you said goodbye at the airport when it was time for him to go back to Hawkins, you were bawling, and he merely gave you a sad smile with teary eyes. You didn't know if he was just trying to keep it together for you but—

Steve was okay.

In front of you, at least. 

Sure there were moments where you both would be a little sad over the phone, emotions high when the feeling of missing each other simply became too much. You talked to each other every single night, and you always caught onto his glumness when he wasn't feeling his best. But it was never this bad.

Well, that you knew of, by the looks of it.

Yet still, there was a gut feeling that made you wonder if something had been the breaking point, the pull of the trigger.

Then it hit you.

It's been a year…

The date was taunting as you looked at the calendar.

It was the anniversary, the day you and your friends almost didn't make it out alive of that absolute Hell, the day you fought with all that you had to save the world, the day you won but it didn't outweigh the much heavier loss. 

There's never a true winner during a war.

You felt awful for forgetting. But perhaps, with everything that's been going on with moving, work, the whole adulting, you unknowingly put it in the back of your mind.

That didn't make you feel any better.

"I thought that I'll get used to this new routine, of not having you here all the time, not seeing you every day and—Robin called it–this, thing, uhm...separation anxiety, s-said it usually gets better over time," Steve continued, stumbling over his words with choked sobs. "But it's been three fucking months and it's only been getting worse.

"I want to see you so bad, trust me, I really want to, and I could drive to New York right now. But after the airport, when I had to leave and then seeing you like that I just—"

That explained so much about why he hadn't visited you in the last three months.

He always reasoned his lack of time that he'd been taking up extra shifts at Family Video so he could save up quicker. When you add being a personal driver to the kids, there was no doubt he'd been busy. And while part of you knew that had been true, there was always a tiny voice inside your head saying that he'd been avoiding seeing you.

Now it made so much sense. 

"I can't do it again," Steve whimpered, taking in deep, shaky breaths before continuing, "I can't handle doing that over and over and over because every time I have to say goodbye to you feels like it's going to be the last time."

You pressed a hand over your mouth to hold back a sob. You knew that the second Steve would hear that you were crying, he'd stop. But he needed this, to get everything out for him to finally shed at least some of that weight off his shoulders.

"Ever since you left, they started happening again, the nightmares," he said, voice quiet, as if he was scared to say it any louder or it might become real. "And it's always when—"

He didn't need to elaborate further, you knew exactly which moment it was. 

You were there.

It was you whose ankle got wrapped in a vine back in the Upside Down, you who got dragged hard and fast towards the nearest cliff.

Everyone had chased you, but Steve was the fastest of them all.

He managed to get a hold of your hands in the nick of time. Any second later and you would've fallen deep into the abyss, never to be seen again.

It was the most horrifying game of tug of war when your life was on the line.

Steve's grip around your wrists was harsh and tight, imprinting bruises on your skin that lasted for days.

He had kissed them every night as a form of apology for hurting you. But you were always quick to shut him down, tell him how it was a sole reminder of him saving your life.

Because with gritted teeth and blurry eyes, cursing and promising to never let you go, Steve gave Robin enough time to find a sharp, jagged rock to cut the vine off.

He pulled you into his embrace once you were set free, your body shaking with harsh sobs as you clung onto him, curled yourself in his arms, the only place you felt safe.

Steve had cupped your face to check if there were any more injuries, sighing in relief when he saw none apart from a few scratches along with specks of dirt. But as soon as his forehead touched yours, it didn't take long for his tears to mix with your own, landing on your cheeks, one heavy droplet at a time.

That was when you knew it had shaken him so badly, because Steve never let anyone see him cry if he could help it, anyone except you.

"I'm always too late in my dream," Steve whispered shakily. "Whether I tripped, or m-my hands got slippery, or those fucking bats came back. There was always something and I—" He let out a broken sob. "I let you go. I watch you fall, I watch you die every single time."

"Steve…" you called softly, barely even a whisper. It wasn't as a means to stop him, but to extend some comfort as much as you could over the telephone line, to let him know that you're here, in every sense of the word.

"And when I wake up and you're not beside me, my mind just keeps tricking me that my nightmare was real. It tricks me that you're actually gone and I just can't—" Steve stopped with muffled sobs.

You could only imagine him mirroring you right now, hand over mouth to stop the other from hearing too much vulnerability. You wished you could reach into the phone and wipe his tears for him, wished you could hold him in your arms until he'd be able to calm down, wished you could actually be there for him.

Although you didn't know if you could take it if you saw him like this. Because seeing Steve cry from pure hurt was one, if not, the most heartbreaking sight. You'd only seen it on a rarity, but it was already a few times too much.

Each sob you heard was a harsh tug at your heartstrings. But then, ever so softly, brokenly, Steve whispered,

"I don’t know how to be without you anymore."

You gasped, salt streams gathering under your chin as you screwed your eyes shut. The sound of his voice was enough to crush you into pieces, his words were the final fire that turned them into ashes.

The silence grew as you took a second to breathe, yet in some way, it felt like some weight had been lifted off the air. You weren't naive to think that by sharing with you his troubles, everything would be magically solved. But you knew that it helped, despite it being little, the catharsis was there.

Although Steve must've mistaken your silence as something bad because not even a moment later, he rushed, "Shit. I'm sorry, baby. I know you've had a long day. I shouldn't have said anything—"

"No! Don't you dare—never apologize for how you feel," you scolded with gritted teeth, frustrated at anyone who ever made him feel like he couldn't share his emotions openly. You cursed them for giving Steve this habit that took so much to break, one that's done more harm than good. "Don't you ever apologize for telling me how you feel. Ever."

"It's just—" He drew in a shaky breath. "I feel selfish being like this, I mean, everyone's been through so much worse, you know? A-And I can't help but f-feel useless. How am I meant to protect anyone if I'm being so goddamn weak."

"Steve," you called, voice firm. "You're going to listen, and you're going to listen carefully, you got that?"

You heard him sigh, followed by a soft, "Mm-hmm."

"Just because everyone had it worse doesn't mean that what you went through wasn't awful, because it was," you said. "What you saw, what you had to deal with, what happened to us, it would take more than just a few months—hell, even years to heal from. You can't just be magically okay overnight after everything."

You waited for him to say something, in case he needed to. But when all you heard was a shaky hum, you continued,

"And Steve, my love, you're not weak for feeling how you feel or for being emotional. You can’t always be fine all the time and that's more than okay," you said. "Especially to me, you’re more than okay to be vulnerable with me, I wouldn't think of you any less. You will still be the bravest man I know even if you cry in my arms every now and then or often.

"Because crying doesn't mean you're weak, Steve. It just means you've been strong for far too long."

The harsh sob he let out made the tears rush down your face quicker.

He took a few moments, his shaky breaths an enough indication that he was trying to get himself together, muffled sobs slowly turning into quiet sniffles.

"I miss you so goddamn much," Steve whimpered.

"I miss you too," you murmured, taking in deep breaths to calm yourself before sighing, "I wish you could've told me sooner."

"I just didn't want to seem clingy," he admitted, clearing out his throat. "I can’t be selfish and hog you all I want just because it's hard for me to be away from you. You have a life of your own, too."

"Steve, after Lover's Lake, when I had almost lost you I—" Your chest tightened. "I didn't want you out of my sight, either. But the thing was, you never gave me even a second to dwell on it because you're always there. You never let me think that I'm going to lose you because you never failed to remind me every second of every day that I won't."

Guilt gnawed at your flesh at the realization.

Maybe that was why it had been easier for you to be away from Steve because he'd reassured you countless of times and then some that he was never going anywhere. He helped you slowly go back to being comfortable and safe with any distance between you.

But you couldn't say you'd done the same.

"If there's someone who's selfish, it's me," you said, voice trembling. "You spent so much time taking care of me and I didn't even stop to check on you enough. If I had been there for you enough—"

"No, no, you've done more than enough for me. You've always been there for me too, sweetheart, don't you ever question that," he reassured, sniffling. "I guess it's just—it's me acting that I'm okay, that maybe I can fake being fine until it becomes real but God it doesn't work. So how could you have helped me when I've been hiding it from you?"

"I could've looked harder."

"Baby, it's not your fault."'

You bit your lip, nodding with a sigh, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know. But I also know you, Y/N," he said. "I know that the second you'd hear that I'm not doing okay you'd change everything in a heartbeat and I can't let you do that. You're happy over there, you're chasing your dream, and God I'm so proud of you and I don't want you to think I'm not. That's why I didn't say anything because what kind of boyfriend would I be if I held you back?"

"Steve," you breathed out shakily, the drying tear tracks swiftly replaced by fresh ones. "You could never hold me back. I mean, the main reason why I'm still—"

You stopped yourself, shaking your head with a deep breath.

"Hey," Steve called softly. "Full honesty?"

"Tonight's not about me," you sniffled, clearing out your throat as you shifted on the bed.

"It's about us," he quickly said. "These phone calls are always about us, me and you."

You sighed, and with a deep breath, you told him everything.

Full honesty.

About how rough the job truly was, how being here wasn't what you expected it to be and how the only reason why you were pushing through was for everyone else instead of yourself. And for him—how you didn't want to disappoint him.

"Hey, you could never disappoint me," he said, tone soft but firm with sincerity. "And baby, there's no shame in changing your mind. We grow and we change, and sometimes, our dreams grow and change along with us. You went there to try it out, didn't you? See how you feel about it? And now, you've got your answer. It may not be what you expected it to be, but it's still an answer, isn't it?"

You blinked, the heaviness in your heart slowly easing its way into nothingness.

It's amazing how much talking it out could do to help.

"When did you get so wise?" you teased with a sniffle.

"Shut up," he chuckled. "I think I've been spending too much time with Dustin, if I'm honest."

"That checks out."

"I mean it, by the way," he said. "There's nothing you could do that would disappoint me."

"I know," you sighed.

Silence hung in the air, but it was a soothing one this time. It maybe lasted a minute or two, just the two of you listening to the comforting static of the phone mixed with each other's slow breathing and barely there sniffles as you calmed down.

"Right," he huffed dramatically. "Now that I've got my bat and keys, what's your boss' address?"

You couldn't stop the teary chuckle from escaping, "I knew you'd say that."

"There it is," Steve hummed. "Please don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

"A bit too late don't you think?" you sniffled with a soft laugh. "I cry when you cry, you know that."

"I know," Steve sighed. "Which is why I don't like crying to you sometimes because I hate seeing you cry let alone making you cry."

"But crying together makes us grow closer though."

Your heart melted at the sound of his soft chuckle.

"You're right," he hummed. "You always are."

"But, goodness, us crying over the phone? We've reached a new level," you laughed softly. "We probably look like one of those long-distance couples in movies."

"I am staring out the window right now, looking at the moon," Steve said. "We're just lacking the rain and the sad music."

That made you laugh.

"We're so cheesy, huh?"

"It's not us if it's not cheesy." 

You let out a calm sigh.

"I love you, Steve."

He hummed, and you like to picture him smiling to himself, the thought warming your heart, even more when you heard his words.

"And I love you most."

You glanced at the clock, a frown settling back on your lips once you saw how late it was already.

"You have an early shift tomorrow," you stated with a pout.

"Yeah," he answered, sounding just as dejected as you were.

It was obvious neither of you wanted to end the call. But both of you were mere humans needing rest, and the physical tolls of the day had now started to creep up on you. You knew Steve was tired as well when you heard him yawn. It was faint as he so obviously tried to pull the phone away to stop you from hearing it, but with the quiet of the night, it didn't escape you.

"We should get some sleep," you murmured, shifting the phone to your other ear when you started to feel an ache on the side of your head.

"Yeah, we should but, uhm," Steve cleared his throat. "Can I ask you something first?"

"Anything."

"I know you usually read a few pages of your book until you doze off, and I was wondering," he paused, voice turning shy. "Can you read me to sleep?"

You smiled.

"Get comfy, then, Harrington."

•••

Steve would never admit this out loud but—

He hated not being able to say no to any of the rascals he'd taken under his wing.

One, because it got him into more trouble and concussions than he should've endured in a single lifetime, and two, mainly because Henderson always got too smug about it.

The kid never said a word obviously, but that smirk was enough to tell Steve all he needed to know.

Then again, Steve adored them. He'd do anything to make anyone in this group of misfits happy, especially after everything they'd been through.

He would never admit that out loud, either—not unless needed.

Now here he was, taking the hour trip to Indianapolis to fetch Henderson's cousin—who he doubted even existed in the first place, but apparently did, to the kid's insistence—Steve has yet to know anything about.

That was suspicious all on its own.

Dustin was a blabbermouth. He usually wouldn't stop talking about people he liked. That was how Steve knew things about Eddie he didn't particularly ask for. And when the kid wore a stupidly excited grin as he sat in the passenger's seat, Steve could only assume that he was really excited to see this 'cousin'—he's still not buying it—of his.

But still, not a name, not a word, not a single hint as to what this person was about.

To make the whole ordeal even fishier was that Robin, Max and Lucas had all tagged along, smiling far too enthusiastically in the backseat like they knew something he didn't.

Max said she wanted to come with because she'd never been to the city.

Lucas' reason was to say hello to this so-called 'cousin' who he apparently knew about since middle school and hadn't seen in a while. But Steve knew it was mainly to look out for Max, and he understood him completely.

Max was doing okay, healed but not without some scars. She couldn't see clearly without her glasses anymore, the very ones Steve got with her when he too, needed a prescription—glasses and contact lenses for him. It was easier to drive without something itching the bridge of his nose.

Robin only said something about needing a different air to breathe than the one in Hawkins.

It didn't make sense, but at the same time, it kinda did.

They were well-behaved passengers, though, so there was nothing to truly complain about. Well, apart from them bickering over who gets to choose which song to play, the absolute trouble about needing a pee break when they've only been fifteen minutes into the drive, and of course, the whole thing where they're so obviously hiding something from him.

Either way, Steve supposed it was a good enough distraction.

During the day he was okay. He was fine when he surrounded himself with his friends, busied himself whether that was at Family Video, or running errands with anyone in the party who needed a ride.

It was when he'd return to an empty house at night where things became too much, where the dreadful feeling of your absence simply grew tenfold.

The conversation you had on the phone a couple of days ago helped by a ton. Getting to talk to you about it lifted the weight off his shoulders but only just.

It didn't mend the longing that ached his heart, and he knew nothing ever could.

Nothing except getting to hold you in his arms again.

But Steve wasn't about to beg you to come back. He couldn't do that to you, couldn't add more to your already bubbling confusion.

After telling him the truth about what was going on with you over in New York, he knew you were still trying to figure out what your next step would be. And Steve would never try to influence your decision for his own selfish gain.

All he could do for now was to be patient, and then, be supportive of whatever decision it was that you'd make as long as it made you happy.

And he was okay with that.

•••

"Right!" Dustin more or less jumped out of the passenger seat as soon as they parked. "I'll be right back with—uh, my cousin, yeah!"

"Wait!" Steve jogged after him when he started rushing towards the doors. "You can't just wander in the airport alone."

"I'll go with him!" Robin squeaked, quickly walking towards Dustin and slinging her arm over his shoulder.

"Right," Steve scoffed, looking over at his companions with his hands on his hips. "You know, you guys aren't being suspicious at all."

Robin gave him a salute. "Be back in a few!"

When the pair disappeared, Steve turned to Max and Lucas who quickly looked away. But—apart from Max playing with her glasses—there were obvious grins on their faces that led him to believe that they definitely knew more than they'd let on.

•••

It's been roughly thirty minutes and there was still no sign of Robin and Dustin anywhere.

Steve was growing antsy and impatient. 

"Right," he sighed, hopping off of the hood of his car. "I'm gonna look for them."

"No!" Lucas and Max exclaimed, rushing to stand in front of him.

Steve crossed his arms, looking at them skeptically. "What's going on with you guys today? You're all acting weird."

Before any of the two could even come up with an excuse, Robin suddenly appeared, running towards them.

"Sorry! We got a little lost inside so we had to ask around but then we had to look for that intercom thingy you know that paging one two three and then—"

"Robin," Steve cut her off.

"Right, sorry," she heaved, hunched over, holding a finger up as she tried to catch her breath. "Thought you guys went in to follow us so I had to check and see if you were still here."

He rolled his eyes, turning back to where she came from. "Where's Henderson and his cousin—"

Steve froze.

It couldn't be.

This was a fever dream. The Indiana heat was getting into his head he was sure of it.

Steve was hallucinating. 

There was no fucking way you—the love of his life, the girl of his dreams, his girlfriend, that you—were actually here, let alone walking towards them.

But then he glanced at everyone's proud smiles, Dustin's being the widest as he trailed behind you with your luggage in hand.

Even then, it still didn't seem real.

Steve couldn't let himself believe it because it was just too damn good to be true and he was so fucking scared that once he'd start to get excited, you'd disappear into thin air.

It wasn't until he heard your voice that he finally snapped out of it.

"What?" you giggled, beautiful eyes finally locking with his after too long as you spread your arms open. "No dramatic running into my arms?"

Steve bolted.

A soft oomf followed by your lovely laugh echoed around the parking lot the second he collided with you.

His arms were quick to wrap around your waist, his feet planted firmly on the concrete to stop you both from falling over.

And once in your embrace, Steve couldn't hold it back, not even if he tried his hardest. So instead, he buried his face into the crook of your neck and just cried.

"Oh no, Steve," you scolded playfully, laughing sweetly as you, yourself started sniffling, your hold around him tightening.

"You're so fucking sneaky," he whimpered, burrowing his nose against your skin, your familiar scent doing nothing but making him cry even harder. "Since when did you become Henderson's cousin?"

"Had to give a believable enough story," you giggled.

"Or you could've just told me," he murmured, squeezing your waist.

"Well, then it wouldn't be a surprise," You shrugged, hands finding their way to cup his face to pry him off of his hiding spot gently.

With a deep breath, Steve obliged, but not too far as he rested his forehead against yours.

God he missed looking into your eyes, feeling your skin against his, seeing that lovely smile in person and getting to feel your familiar warmth engulfing him as he got to be in your arms again.

But then you tilted your head, soft lips brushing against his for a kiss that made Steve's knees buckle, his arms quickly wrapping around your waist for support, to pull you closer, maybe even both. His head was spinning, his cheeks becoming an endless waterfall, his heart pounding against his chest as his whole body warmed and relaxed and tingled and all the good things.

A kiss does that to you when you haven't felt it in a long fucking time.

Steve missed you so much.

"Hi," you whispered once you pulled away, thumbs gently brushing away his tears even though you yourself sported some of your own. "This is us happy crying, right?"

He shook his head at you, groaning as went back to his hiding spot when more tears threatened to spill out of him.

"Will you stop hogging her?" Max spoke up, though everyone could hear the smile in her tone.

"Shut up, Mayfield. I can hog her all I want," he grumbled, placing a few kisses on your skin before sighing, begrudgingly letting you go. "Be quick you lying assholes."

Steve took the time everyone greeted you to get himself together. He knew there was no point trying to pretend he hadn't been crying, they'd already seen it. But he could at least salvage what's left of his ego by not looking like a complete mess.

There was no use though, because the second you were back in his arms, he could feel himself start to tear up again.

"Let's go home?" you hummed with a grin, your arms wrapping around his waist as you kissed his jaw.

What more when you say things like that, smile at him like that, kiss him like that? Steve was sure you were trying to see how much you could make him cry in under a minute—way too fucking much was the answer. 

Steve could only nod as you all walked back toward his car. But before you could reach the passenger door, a small question nagged the back of his mind. 

"How long are you visiting for?" he couldn't help but ask even though part of him was dreading to know the answer.

You looked at him, irises twinkling, smiling so pretty and bright as you said,

"Who says I'm visiting?"

Steve's bottom lip quivered, gaze turning blurry as he leaned forward, face against your neck, back into his hiding spot as he curled himself in your arms. You giggled, rubbing soft circles on his back, your head turning to place a loving kiss on his temple.

That didn't help.

"Wow. I've never seen him cry this much," Robin murmured.

"I've never seen him cry ever," Lucas said, amused. "Let alone these many times in what, less than five minutes?"

Max giggled, "He's a softie when it comes to her, what did you guys expect?"

"I think big baby is the right description," Dustin snickered.

Steve lifted his head to glare at them. "Any of you fucking assholes mention this again and you're walking back to Hawkins."

The way his words got followed by a hiccup negated any threat laced in them.

Your sweet laugh told him that.

He didn't care much anymore though, letting them see him cry. It was ammo in their arsenal, that's for sure. He could already picture the inevitable teasing he was going to endure from the little shitheads. All in a loving manner, but not any less annoying.

But if him facing all of that meant getting to see you every day, waking up to your beautiful face, sleeping next to your warm figure, having you here with him, back in his arms then—

Steve was more than okay with that.