Chapter Text
March 8th, 1983
“Is it true you banged Andrew Harrison?” Tommy Hagan spat, looking at me with far too much disgust.
I kissed one guy and suddenly I’m the villain? I exaggerated my eye roll and nearly cackled at Tommy’s annoyance.
“I wish I did,” I grinned.
Tommy and his gaggle of sophomores didn’t know how to respond to that one!
One of Tommy’s geese stepped up—Steve Harrington—and opened his mouth (beak? I’m really shooting for this goose metaphor).
Unfortunately, I was unable to view the masterpiece that was Steve’s mouth as such a thing as a beak. Throughout the time I made out with Andrew, I was imagining he was Steve and I’m not proud to admit that. I could probably draw Steve’s lips perfectly from the sheer amount of time I’ve spent gazing at them. Though I wouldn’t mind spending some more.
“So you admit to it?” Steve narrowed his eyes at me.
God, his eyes were hot. I wouldn’t mind him glaring at me in any other context.
“What part of ‘I wish I did’ isn’t clear to you, Stevie?” I smiled a bit wider, really pulling together the whole look, “No, I didn’t bang Andrew Harrison. Happy, Harrington?”
“But you admit you wanted to?” Tommy interjected from Steve’s side.
“Sure, I’ll admit to wanting to bang Andrew Harrison if you leave me alone. Seriously, what is this? Tommy Hagan and his flock of mockingbirds? You’re really doing a great job with the ‘mocking’ part, Harrington,” I leaned closer to him for a second, watching him control his expression and tilt away from me, “What are you gonna do next, call me a fag?”
Steve’s hands landed on my shoulders and he shoved me backward against a locker. It would’ve been hot if Steve hadn’t looked ready to murder me.
On second thought, it most definitely was hot regardless of the murderous look in Steve’s eyes.
“Feeling confident, Stevie boy?” I taunted with a soft smirk.
My eyes found Steve’s arm, still firmly pressed against my shoulders. I raised my hand and gripped his forearm.
Steve seethed, “Shut up you–”
I pulled his arm up to my mouth and bit down on the soft skin. Steve yanked his arm away before I could get a proper taste.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, queer?” Steve glared at me again, backing away.
I could only smile back. There was a white indent in the shape of teeth around Steve’s arm. An indent that I made.
“Fucking faggot,” Tommy muttered as he led his group away.
So my tactic worked! If you bite people, they’ll stay away from you; for better or for worse (I wouldn’t mind if Steve stayed).
🦇🦇🦇
April 4th, 1983
"Did he really bite Steve Harrington?"
It seemed like the word got around. I didn't mind the whole school knowing I got my mouth on Steve Harrington. I was proud, honestly; not everyone could bite King Steve and get away with it.
"He's a freak for even trying to bite him."
It was somewhat annoying that I couldn't even walk through the halls without hearing all about how weird I was. If Steve's arm were inches away from your mouth, you would bite him too, I swear. I'm surprised I didn't impulsively kiss his arm. Weirdly, that would've gone worse.
Steve seemed to learn his lesson. Whenever Tommy's gaggle decided to visit me, Steve stayed back, hardly saying a word.
If biting people was the key to keeping them away, I would bite the rest of the group. However, I was scared to find out what Tommy and the others had on their skin.