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Steve Harrington was known for many things. For his hair, his looks, his endless flirting, his parties. In fact, the words “Steve Harrington,” and “parties” were practically synonymous. If someone wanted to find Steve Harrington, one of the first places they knew to check was this weekend’s party.
He never went to parties alone though. He had always brought you along with him, not so he could have a girl on his arm, but because he wanted to spend time with you. And even though you never liked any of the parties Steve took you to (they were always too loud, with too many drunk, uncoordinated teenagers, and not enough space to do much of anything), you always accompanied him to each party because you wanted to spend time with your boyfriend as well, even if it meant being at a party you hated.
It seemed though that Steve never quite got the memo that you never liked the parties as much as he did, because now he’s throwing a party in his too-empty house, leaning against the counter as he watches everyone around him get drunk, dance, and have fun, as his eyes are trained to the door, willing you to come inside as he ignores every girl that thinks they now have a chance with him now that he’s freshly single. But none of them are you.
The two of you had broken up almost a week ago, with you telling him how his friends treated you horribly, and you couldn’t deal with being “King Steve’s” girlfriend anymore. That you didn’t like the popularity or the parties or theconstant stares whenever the two of you were together in the halls.
At first, Steve had thought you were bluffing, you always seemed to be having fun at the parties he took you to, but as the hours grew longer, and Steve downed water after water (not beer, in case you showed up, he wanted to talk to you completely sober) Steve started to realize he might have been wrong. Maybe you really didn’t like the parties, maybe this party that he threw for you was all for nothing. You weren’t going to show, not only did you not like parties, but even if you did, why would you go to one hosted by your ex?
Steve felt so stupid.
He remembers you telling him about “ The Great Gatsby, ” a book you had to read for your English class, and how Gatsby would throw parties in hopes of getting Daisy’s attention, and Steve can’t help but feel like him. Steve can’t remember if Gatsby’s parties ever worked in his favor, but god did he wish it would work for him. He was slowly starting to understand how you felt at parties, why you probably didn’t like them. Because without you here to keep him company and kiss him stupid, there really was no point. He felt like he could be drowned by the loud music filling the house as he watched the people around him laugh and dance and drink their hearts away. The stench of alcohol reached his nose and it almost made him sick.
He can’t believe he ever used to think any of this was fun .
***
You had heard about the party Steve had thrown over the weekend. You heard it was fun until something pissed Steve off enough that he had kicked everyone out of his house.
The selfish part of you thought good , why is he throwing a party so quickly after you had just broken up? While the calmer, still quietly falling for Steve part couldn’t help but question is everything alright ? He never turned down a party before.
You had closed your locker with a sigh, only to be startled by a tall figure holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers over his face, slowly lowering it to reveal himself to be Steve.
“Hey,” he whispered out.
“Hi,” you replied with a confused look.
Steve only sighed, leaning against the lockers as he took you in, looking at you as if it was the last time he’d get to see you, and he was scared it would be. That after right now, the only time he would ever get to see you again would be through stolen glances from across the hall. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m sorry,” he started off, eyes now trained onto your shoes as if scared to see what your reaction would be. “I was a shitty boyfriend, and I was stupid and blind, and didn’t realize what I had right in front of me, and I’m sorry for… for everything.”
Steve only risks a glance up, meeting your eyes, when you stay silent for what he thinks to be far too long.
“I’m sorry,” he quietly repeats.
“I heard you threw a party,” is all you respond, and Steve feels a part of him deflate at that. He just poured his heart out,apologized, and you want to talk about the party?
Steve nods with a sigh. “Yeah, it was stupid. It was for you, but it was stupid, I know you don’t like that crap. I’m sorry if you ever felt like you had to go to the parties cause of me.”
You furrow your brows at his confession. “What do you mean it was for me?” You ask.
Steve only shrugs, the flowers in his hand moving along with his movement as he scratches the back of his neck out of nervousness. “I don’t know, I was kinda hoping you’d show up or something, like in ‘ The Great Gatsby .’”
“You didn’t read ‘ The Great Gatsby,’ you reply as Steve shrugs with a small smile. It was true, he hardly ever paid attention in his English class, and had fallen asleep during most of the class readings.
“No,” he replies, “I didn’t, but I do listen when you talk to me, believe it or not.”
And despite yourself, something inside of you warms at that, and you can’t help but let out a small smile. “You know Gatsby and Daisy don’t end up together right?”
He did not know that. “I know,” Steve replies, eyes moving to the bouquet he was still holding. “Doesn’t mean the party thing isn’t kind of romantic.”
“Is this your way of trying to get back together with me?” You ask as Steve sighs.
“It’s my way of apologizing,” he replies, moving his gaze from the flowers to you, looking at you with nothing but sincerity and sorrow in his eyes. “I’m not expecting you to take me back at the first apology, but I wanted you to know that I was sorry, and that I dropped most of my old friends. Including Tommy and Carol.”
Your eyebrows shoot up in shock at that. “You what?”
“They were a bunch of assholes,” Steve calmly replies with a small shrug. Tommy and Carol had been one of the main reasons the two of you had broken up. You didn’t like how they treated you, treated Steve, or treated those around them, and he dropped them, just like that .
“I forgive you,” is all you can reply as Steve breaks out into a wide grin.
“Yeah?” He asks, an almost boyish smile across his face.
You nod with a smile, hesitantly taking his hand in yours before taking the bouquet of flowers in your free hand. “You can make it all up to me by taking me to the diner? Friday?”
Steve interlocks his fingers through yours, like your hands were a lock and key, meant to fit together, as he nods happily. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll pick you up.” He then raises his right hand, the one not holding your own hand, and tells you, “and no more parties, no more Tommy and Carol, none of it, Scout’s Honor.”
You can’t help but laugh at his dramatics.
“You don’t need to stop going to parties, Steve,” you tell him, as he shakes his head no, squeezing your hand once again with a smile.
“Are you kidding? Parties are boring as hell without you. I’d rather be doing literally anything else, so long as you’re there.”
And with that, you move to press a kiss to his cheek, feeling his smile grow as your lips touch his skin.
“See you later, Stevie,” you reply as you walk in the opposite direction to your class.
Steve’s smile can only grow even more, if that’s even possible, as he hears you call him the nickname he thought he’d never get to hear from you again.