Work Text:
May, 1985
The gym was packed.
It didn't quite surprise you, because when your kid graduates, you want everyone you know to see it happen. Parents considered it a trophy, one that says, “Hey, my kid didn't die! My kid survived being a teenager! I didn't kill my kid before they're twenty!”. It was almost more of a novelty for your parents than the students themselves, at this point.
Well, metaphorically. Not your parents. Your parents were in New York right about now, probably cheating some other guy out of some stock on Wall Street.
Your parents had a very different idea of novelty. They preferred monetary value over emotional or familial. Shocking, considering your dad was sleeping with anyone that had a skirt and moved, and your mom could barely be bothered to send you a birthday card when you turned eighteen and neither of your parents celebrated with you.
The gym floor rattles every time applause breaks out, it makes your feet feel strange in your dress shoes. If one thing was for sure, it was that you were dressed better than probably every other man in the room. Old habits die hard, they say. Your dad always was strict about formalities.
Your head turns back, a bit, to look over the sea of seniors. Nancy Wheeler, pride and joy of population: eight, sits twelve rows behind you. Her hair is just above shoulder-length, curled in the right spots, and her makeup is simple but gorgeous.
She isn’t looking at you, though. She’s looking on stage, where the students with last name ‘F’ are being handed diplomas. You don’t need a degree to know who she’s looking at.
You’re happy for her. Really. She and Jonathan work together really well, even if you kind of hate admitting that. You just dragged her down, stifled the potential that Jonathan helps thrive. You’ve overheard talks of the two being employed at The Hawkins Post immediately upon graduating, and it makes your stomach claw at itself to imagine them being successful while you can’t even get a normal job for the birds. (Your dad plans on fixing that. He refuses to let you ‘freeload’ anymore. Even though you just turned eighteen.)
There are other faces up there and in the crowd on the floor that you think you should know. You feel a bit of regret at not knowing more people. Yeah, everyone knows you, you’re the king. But you don’t know your peers. You don’t have friends.
‘H’ comes up sooner than you anticipate. You all line up at the steps to the small platform, and everyone around you is buzzing. A girl– Isabella, you think– shouts to her mother and waves ecstatically. You breathe out hard through your nose.
Isabella Harding is called forward, and it feels awful that your brain is overjoyed that you remembered her name. You were the King, you should know more people. You should belong better than this.
Then, you’re next up. Just as the Principal says your name, “Steven David Harrington, Jr.”, a small corner of the crowd erupts.
“Yeah!”
“Let’s go, Steve!”
“We love you, Steve!”
Your neck whips over so fast, you’re shocked it hasn’t given you whiplash. Halfway through crossing the stage, time freezes.
Dustin, Max, Lucas, Will, Mike, and El all stand, giving a large standing ovation. Beside them, Karen and Ted Wheeler, Joyce Byers, and Jim Hopper sit and clap as well. From here, you can just make out the small, fatherly smile on the man’s face. It almost makes you break down right there.
You receive your diploma, shake hands with the Principal, and head to the other side of the proceedings. Before you can sit down, eyes on your face startle you.
Jonathan Byers watches you, and you’re torn between smiling and running away. Then, he nods at you, and you do the same, and a weight has been lifted.
The rest of the ceremony goes slowly. By ‘W’, your butt has started falling asleep from sitting for so long. When Nancy walks across the stage, the crowd goes wild. She’d gained a bit of popularity over the last few years, and the kids in the corner shout the loudest for her. Jonathan claps behind you, whistling. You can’t help but cheer as well.
Then, you’re tossing your caps in the air, and your best feature is finally freed from its cage, and then families are joining their children on the floor. Parents flock to their children, and you stand alone, watching helplessly. You wonder if you should just leave.
Stomping footsteps knock that idea away, and you turn just in time to receive an armful of Dustin Henderson. Max and Lucas join in on the hug, and you feel the back of your throat ache.
Soon, the Byers and Wheelers join you where you stand. Little Holly pulls you in for another hug, and then El, and then Nancy. Each hug is tight and warm, and you hate letting go of each one. You’re glad the Wheelers still ask you to babysit. You feel attached to the youngest Wheeler, slightly, just as much as the rest of your kids. Your kids.
Then, Joyce comes in for a hug. The ache is stronger, and your nose burns with the effort of keeping tears at bay. She holds you close, squeezing in an affectionate manner.
More surprising, Hopper approaches once Joyce lets you go. He sticks out his hand, and you shake it, nodding at him. He scoffs, smirking slightly, and pulls you into him. You’ve never been hugged by Hopper, so this is entirely new and strange, but…you don’t hate it.
And then, you realise, your parents did come. And so did your kids. And, with your face pressed into Hopper’s shoulder, Dustin and Will holding onto you and the other kids talking animatedly around you, you let everything go. Tears stream down your face and into Hopper’s dress shirt, but he just grips you tighter, and you hug back just as tight.
You’re home. This is your family. You’re wanted, and you’re not alone.
And Hell, you just graduated. All on your own. You did this. You deserve this.
You deserve love.