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The Hawkins High School gymnasium looks unrecognizable with the dazzling disco ball filling the normally bleak and boring space with colorful lights of pink and blue. The school's typical bleachers were pushed aside and replaced with round tables covered in velvet, purple tablecloths and flower arrangements. Paper crepe streamers hang from the basketball hops, silver stars dangle from the ceiling, and the PROM NIGHT '89 banner you painted brings a bright smile to your face.
As the school's fine arts teacher, you made it your duty to make the gym look like it was straight out of a John Hughes film. You took plenty of inspiration from Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink. You of course had plenty of help with your students, and you could not be more proud of them. This is your first year teaching at Hawkins High, and you've already created long lasting bonds with your students.
It's been a bit weird, being back at Hawkins. This was the first job you took after attending art school. You went to Parsons, hoping to become a gallery curator, imagining a life spent drifting between white-walled exhibits and opening nights, your name printed neatly on placards beneath framed art. But you quickly realized the fast-paced rhythm of the city wasn’t right for you. Everything felt too loud, too rushed, like you were constantly chasing something just out of reach. So, you returned to the only place you’ve ever truly known as home.
Seeing Hawkins again feels surreal. Faces you haven’t seen in years pass you by in the grocery store, older now, changed in ways both subtle and unmistakable. The town itself has changed too. Random stretches of concrete now cut through places that once held picnics, bike trails, and summer outings. Familiar landmarks feel different, almost misplaced, like a memory that doesn’t quite line up with reality. The town still feels the same at its core, warm and cozy. Your mom used to call you all the time about how things have gone crazy in Hawkins, but you always thought she was just a paranoid introvert with too much time on her hands.
You stand in the corner admiring your work while the rest of the high school students chatter and dance. You wish to join the dancefloor, but you've never been the person to ask someone to dance. You just get flashbacks to your first prom. When the lights dimmed low for a slow dance, you were left alone with no one, and you wanted to spare yourself the embarrassment. You can't dance. Now you're standing with your clipboard in hand, trying to look responsible since you are chaperoning tonight.
You can’t help but look at your high school crush, Steve Harrington. His presence is impossible to ignore. He’s wearing a navy suit. His tie is slightly off-center, and you love how the color suits him. His beautiful dark hair is slicked back, still holding its famous volume. It's weird that he's now your co-worker. You heard he was the sex education teacher, but you genuinely thought that was a joke until you heard your students gossiping about it in class. There isn't anyone more qualified for the job than Steve.
You never tried to catch up with him. You think about the moments in high school with him. He used to be a bit of an ass, but he got better over the years. You remember him talking to you at the Senior Bonfire at Lovers’ Lake. He always talked about what made him happy, and it inspired you to pursue what made you happy, art.
Everyone always said that your art deserved a place at some big gallery in the city, so that big city people can enjoy your work, not just the small town folk. So you went for it until you realized that it wasn’t like how you imagined at all. You left Hawkins, thinking you weren’t going to come back. Then you just came back, and a lot of people were shocked by your transformation. Still the shy, quiet artist except you’ve grown to be elegant and stylish. You brought a touch of city flair to the quaint Hawkins, but you avoided everyone like the plague when you returned. You hate the “you’re so different now” small talk. It makes you feel like a poser, an imitation of yourself.
Steve is chatting with a small group of students, and you recognize them immediately. It’s Dustin Henderson and his little party of friends. You have a few of them in your visual arts class. You love those kids. They always know how to keep you entertained during the long days, but your favorite in the group, Will Byers, is not there though. You were hoping to catch him at Prom. Poor kid has had a rough couple of years, and you hope he will show up and have a fun night.
“Are you going to just keep on staring at him or what?”
You turn around to the origin of the voice, and you smile softly. Your favorite student, Will Byers, stands in front of you with a sheepish smile. His hair is finally styled to not be in a bowl cut, and you couldn't help but laugh.
Will’s teasing snaps you out of your thoughts, heat blooming across your cheeks as you clutch the clipboard a little tighter.
“I’m not staring,” you lie, immediately disproven by the way your eyes flick right back to Steve before you can stop yourself.
Will grins, clearly unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure. Because you’ve only looked at him, like… eight times in the last minute.”
You tap at your clip board and raise your eyebrow. “I’m chaperoning,” you insist. “Very professionally chaperoning.”
"There's only doodles on your paper," Will leans over to look at your clipboard to which you playfully tap him with it.
You glance out over the dance floor again. Couples sway awkwardly to a synth-heavy slow song, arms stiff, feet shuffling in uncertain rhythm. The disco ball scatters light across Steve’s shoulders as he laughs at something Dustin says, his whole face lighting up in a way that still feels painfully familiar. You've always loved that laugh. Every time you interact with Steve in the faculty room, he's always trying to get you to laugh.
“It’s stupid,” you murmur before you can stop yourself. “We’re adults. This is high school prom. I shouldn’t even be thinking about..”
“..your extremely obvious crush?” Will finishes, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Yeah, probably not. But here you are.”
You shoot him a look. “You’re supposed to be on the dance floor. Or… I don’t know. Making memories. Not psychoanalyzing your teacher.”
Will shrugs. “I already danced. It was… okay.” He hesitates, then adds more softly, “You deserve to have fun too, you know.”
That catches you off guard. This is why he's your favorite. He's considerate in a way most students aren't. He always washes his paint brushes after class and clean up after himself so you didn't have to.
"Hey man, watch your hands! Remember about consent!" Steve shouts at a very handsy couple on the dance floor. You smirk and shake your head, clearly sex ed is doing wonders for Steve.
You watch Steve shepherd the group away from the edge of chaos with an ease that makes your heart flutter. He hasn’t changed in all the ways that matter. Still protective. Still kind. Still the same boy with a golden heart.
Will follows your gaze, then smiles to himself.
“You know,” he says casually, “Steve’s actually really bad at slow dances.”
Your heart stutters. “What?”
“He said so,” Will continues. “Like, earlier. Dustin asked why he wasn’t dancing and he said he didn’t want to step on anyone’s feet.”
That sounds exactly like something Steve Harrington would say.
"Anyway, I think they all want me to come back. Do you want to come? I mean I can try to put in a word for Steve," Will offers, and you shake your head.
"No, it's okay! Go have fun, Will!"
You watch him return to his friends like a lost sheep that strayed too far from the herd.
The lights of the gym dim, and you watch the students start to break off into duos. You hear the soft synth of your favorite song humming throughout the gymnasiums, Every Breath You Take by The Police. You sway softly to the music, singing the song quietly to yourself. Your eyes drift through the crowd as you sing. Then you pause.
Steve’s eyes meet yours across the room.
For a second, neither of you move. Then he smiles. It was small at first, a little uncertain. He hesitates, glances at the dance floor, then back at you, as if weighing a decision he’s been avoiding all night.
Your pulse pounds in your ears. You hope he can’t tell how red you are under the dim lights. For a second, you wonder if you imagined it. Your chest tightens in a way you haven’t felt in years. It’s not the cocky grin you remember from high school hallways or pep rallies. This one is gentler. Warmer. Real.
And then he starts walking.
Your grip tightens around your clipboard, knuckles whitening. You tell yourself to look away to go pretend to use the bathroom. But your feet stay planted, and your eyes betray you, locked onto him as he closes the distance.
With every step he takes, memories rise uninvited. The Senior Bonfire by Lover’s Lake. The way he used to make you laugh in class. The guy that would always ask for a pencil but never returns it after class. The boy you never had the courage to connect with.
The man stops a few feet in front of you.
“You did an amazing job,” he says finally, gesturing vaguely around the gym. “The place looks unrecognizable.”
You let out a soft laugh. “That was kind of the goal.”
“No, really,” he insists. “The kids love it. I mean, look at them.” He nods off to the dance floor, where Lucas is enthusiastically spinning Max while Mike claps along, off-beat. Steve smiles fondly before turning back to you. “You should be proud.”
Something warm settles in your chest. “Thank you. I had a lot of help.”
“I know,” he says, eyes flicking briefly toward where Will stands across the room, pretending very poorly not to watch the two of you with Dustin. Steve smirks. “They’re… very invested.”
“I have a feeling they are scheming,” you joke, shaking your head.
The song swells, unmistakably slow, unmistakably intentional. You’re suddenly acutely aware of how close he is, how the smell of his cologne mingles with the sugary punch and polished gym floor.
Steve shifts his weight, hands flexing at his sides. “So,” he begins, then stops. He exhales, running a hand through his hair in a way that feels painfully familiar. “This might be a weird thing to ask. Since we are.. You know…chaperones.. And we graduated like four years ago...”
Your heart stutters.
“But,” he continues, meeting your eyes, earnest and a little nervous, “I was wondering if you’d want to dance. Nothing fancy. I’m actually really—”
“—Bad at it?” You smile and shake your head. Steve’s smiles falls for just a second, assuming your shake meant no, but you quickly nod instead.
“I would love to dance with you, Steve,” you say, pushing your hair behind your ear so you can get a better look at him.
Steve’s smile beams, genuine and kind. He offers his hand, and you take it. As he leads you toward the edge of the dance floor, you realize something with a sudden clarity that makes your chest ache. You’re not that lonely girl anymore. And this time, when the lights dim low for a slow dance, you’re not standing alone. It’s healing.
“May I?” He asks with a hopeful smile, and you smile and nod as he places his hands on your hips. You carefully wrap your hands around his neck as you both sway to the song.
“I love this song,” You say as Steve stares at your feet, making sure to not step on it.
He lets out a quiet laugh, shoulders relaxing just a bit. “Yeah?,” he says. “ I’m mostly just counting in my head and hoping for the best.”
You smile, the sound of his voice is so easy and warm. You loved hearing him talk in the past, especially in the faculty lounge. He’s always made sure to ask you how your day was, and it’s always something you’ve appreciated. “You’re doing great,” you reassure him softly.
“I told you I’m terrible at slow dancing,” he replies, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are warm, almost disbelieving.
“So am I,” you admit. “Guess we cancel each other out.”
“That might be the most comforting thing anyone’s ever said to me,” he murmurs, a grin tugging at his lips.
“I’m really glad you came back,” Steve says after a while, his voice low beneath the lyrics. “It’s been hard. Most everyone I know has left this place, so it’s nice to have a familiar face,” he adds, a little sheepish.
“It’s kind of a long story,” you admit softly. “I just… realized the big city isn’t for me.”
Steve nods, encouraging, eyes gentle. “Yeah. I get that.”
The song continues, every step, every sway feeling intentional. You feel him pull you a little closer. Nothing crazy, just enough for you to hear him better. You rest your forehead briefly against his shoulder, breathing him in. You feel at home. You never realized how much taller Steve is to you. You’ve barely let him get closer than a few feet in the past.
“If you don’t mind me asking, why did you come back?” Steve asks, and you can’t help but think for a moment. You honestly wanted to retreat for a second. Despite the dozens of people surrounding you both, it felt like it was just you and Steve. It feels so intimate. It’s scary admitting everything. It’s embarrassing, but you haven’t told many people why you returned. You just did. People always assumed you were going to do big things with your art and go to the city, but you never did. Normally people questioning you stung. It felt like you let yourself down for not doing more.
Steve could sense your discomfort. “I stayed,” he says simply. “Everyone else left, and I stayed. Sometimes I feel like a washed-up freak for it. Staying back and reliving the past almost, or maybe making up for what I’ve done in the past.” He gives a small, self-deprecating smile. “But I love Hawkins. I love knowing people. I love feeling like I belong somewhere. I can’t imagine the city. It sounds exhausting, so I don’t blame you.”
You felt genuine words flowing from Steve’s mouth, and they brought you a soothing comfort you’ve needed since returning to Hawkins. You swallow, emboldened by his patience.
“Everyone always assumed I was going to do big things. That I’d stay in New York, work in galleries, make a name for myself. I thought I was going to live out my dreams. And I tried. I really did.” Your voice wavers just slightly. “But I was miserable. I loved my degree, loved learning, but the life that came with it. It felt lonely. Like I was constantly pretending to be someone else.”
Normally, questions like this sting. They feel like reminders of what you didn’t become, of the version of yourself people expected. You’d spent years feeling like you let yourself down for not pushing harder, for wanting something quieter.
“I feel stupid sometimes,” you continue, barely above a whisper. “For spending all that money to go to New York. To go to this fancy art school. I pursued something I loved… and then hated the life it demanded of me. Now I am back at the place that people said I should have left. That I thought I should have left.”
“I left because everyone thought I was going to be something. I left because I thought I was going to be something. I used to feel so invisible in Hawkins, but I felt even more invisible in the city,” You hide your face on your shoulder, not wanting to meet his eyes, ”I’m sorry that was really stupid.”
By that point your forehead is resting against his shoulder. You don’t even realize how close you are to him. Steve shakes his head immediately. “No, that’s not stupid at all and neither are you.”
You glance up at him, surprised.
“I don’t think either of us are stupid,” he adds, caressing the back of your head. “I think we just figured out what we needed and what made us feel like ourselves.”
The song drifts on around you, the lights spinning softly overhead. You let his words sink in, something loosening inside your chest that you didn’t realize was still tight. You feel so much lighter. The weight and guilt of not living up to your expectations finally fall off of you.
“Maybe coming back wasn’t giving up,” you say after a moment. “Maybe it was choosing myself.”
Steve’s smile is slow and sincere. “That doesn’t sound stupid to me.”
You let out a small breath of laughter, the tension easing completely. “Besides,” you add, “a lot of my peers at Parsons dyed their hair crazy colors just to set trends. And, well… I don’t think I was ever brave enough for that.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, you couldn’t do that to my hair even if you paid me a million bucks.”
Your laughter fades into something softer as your eyes meet his. Up close, his expression is open, almost vulnerable. It feels like he’s really seeing you. He is seeing past the years apart, past the versions of yourselves you thought you were supposed to become. He just sees you.
Once you snap out of reality, you realize that a few students notice your closeness and a few are snickering. By that point the song comes to an end. Matter of fact, it’s been over for quite some time, and you and Steve are the only people slow dancing in the crowd of chattering students dancing to Just Like Heaven by The Cure.
Then reality creeps back in.
You catch movement from the corner of your eye. A few students have definitely noticed how close the two of you are. Dustin’s eyes are wide with poorly concealed delight, his grin stretching ear to ear. Will stands beside him, attempting to look innocent. When your eyes meet his, he gives you a small, knowing smile. Mike nudged them both to stop because they’ve been caught.
Oh!
You take a step back from Steve, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I think we’re being… chaperoned.. By your children…,” you murmur.
Steve follows your gaze and lets out a quiet laugh when he sees them. “Wow,” he says under his breath. “I’m pretty sure we just got set up by a group of teenagers.”
Dustin gives an exaggerated thumbs-up from across the floor before Lucas drags him away, laughing. Will gives you a little wink and follows with the rest of the group, snickering. “See you in class Monday!” Will shouts pushing them along.
Steve shakes his head, still smiling as he looks back at you. “Guess that answers whether this was subtle.”
You laugh softly, the sound easing the last of your nerves. “They’re going to be unbearable about this.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, eyes warm. “But… I don’t really regret it.”
He hesitates for half a second, then adds, “Would you maybe want to keep talking? Somewhere less… public?”
You heart skips. You can’t believe Steve “The Hair” Harrington is asking you to leave with him.
You nod your head and smile, taking his hand, ”Lead the way, Mr. Harrington”
He doesn’t hesitate for a second. His fingers lace through yours and he practically pulls you off the edge of the dance floor, weaving between students and tables with an ease that makes you laugh. As you pass the other chaperones near the doors, Steve throws on his most serious voice.
“It’s an emergency!”
You bite back a laugh, because it very clearly isn’t, but who’s to say you aren’t in one? One that feels exciting and reckless in the best possible way.
The doors swing shut behind you, and suddenly the music fades to a dull thrum. Your footsteps echo down the hallway as you run past rows of lockers, laughter bouncing off the tiled walls. For a moment, it feels like you’re teenagers again, sneaking out of somewhere you’re not supposed to leave.
Steve slows abruptly, and you nearly run into him.
“Just needed to stop by the classroom,” he says, a little breathless, already unlocking the door. “Just—wait here a second.”
You watch him dart inside, flipping on the light and rummaging around like he knows exactly where everything is. He reemerges with a small cooler in one hand and a radio in the other, grinning like he’s just pulled off the greatest heist in Hawkins history.
Before you can ask a single question, he’s tugging you along again, leading you toward the stairwell. You climb flight after flight, your breathing uneven now—not from exhaustion, but from the thrill of it all. Finally, he stops in front of a narrow ladder leading up.
He looks at you, eyes sparkling. “Ladies first.”
You gather the skirt of your dress and carefully climb, the cool night air greeting you as you push yourself onto the roof. Steve follows close behind. You’ve never been on the roof before, and it feels like Hawkins belongs to you at that moment.
Hawkins stretches out before you, quiet and glowing. Streetlights dot the town like fireflies, and above you, the night sky twinkles mirroring the disco lights still spinning inside the gym. The night sky is endless. The moon is glowing beautifully, thousands of light years away. The music drifts up faintly from below, muffled now, like a secret meant only for the two of you.
Steve sets the cooler down and clicks on the radio, letting the music hum quietly in the background. He reaches inside, pulls out a beer, and cracks it open, taking an easy sip. After a moment, he offers one to you.
You take the cold bottle, the glass feels cool against your palm, and turn back toward the night sky. The stars stretch across the night sky above you, the town glowing softly below, and for a moment, everything feels perfectly still.
“Not bad, huh?” he says softly, meeting your side.
You smile, eyes still fixed on the town you thought you’d outgrown. Up here, with the wind tugging at your dress and Steve standing beside you. You’ve come to the realization of the beauty that is Hawkins, and this was a reminder of why you came back. This is your home, and you’re never going to get this anywhere else. You feel happy, grounded, certain in a way that’s rare and unexpected. Like every choice you made somehow led you right to this moment.
“I think this is what made me come back,” you say quietly, breaking the comfortable silence.
Steve tilts his head, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “The view of Hawkins from Hawkins High School?”
You laugh softly. “No—well, yes, but also no.” You gesture vaguely toward the sky, the town below. “It’s this. The quiet. The night air. The way everything feels… real. New York City is nothing like this. It’s loud, busy, and just not genuine. Here I feel whole.”
“You’re going to think this sounds silly, but I wish I had my canvas and paint so I can paint this.” You say longingly, eyes still glued to the night sky.
Steve laughs and shakes his head, coming close to your side. His fingers nudge the ends of yours as Everybody wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears plays.
“Care for another dance?” Steve asks, and you smile and gladly take his hand. He gives you a little spin.
One hand is on your hip while the other is entwined in your fingers. This might’ve been a little bit too advanced of a dance for him because he was tripping on his own feet. You laugh and continue to rock with him.
“Okay,” he chuckles, recovering, “maybe I should stick to swaying.”
“I think you’re doing great,” you tease, rocking gently with him as the music carries you along.
After a moment, you glance up at him, curiosity settling in. “Can I ask you something, Steve?”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Anything.”
“Why did you decide to stay?” you ask. “Here, I mean. When so many people left.”
Steve’s expression shifts, thoughtful now. He looks back out over the town, giving it a long look. “I guess… someone had to,” he says quietly. “Hawkins needed people who cared enough not to give up on it. And honestly? I needed it too. I like knowing where I belong. I didn’t want to go to college. Wasn’t that big on school honestly, and nothing else feels like home.”
You nod, understanding more than you expected to. You have so much respect for him, knowing that he is so much more than a handsome face. Obviously, you understand that there is more to him, but seeing him talk about what he cares about pulls at your heartstrings. It shows that Steve has grown so much since the last you saw him. He’s matured, and it made you fall for him more. He’s not just the cute guy from class. Now he’s the cute guy teaching the class next door.
“And the teaching?” you continue, a soft chuckle leaving your lips. “I mean, sex education, of all things. I feel like that’s a really specific choice.”
He laughs softly, a little embarrassed, and he breaks his grasp from your own to awkwardly scratch his head.
“Yeah, that wasn’t exactly part of the plan.” He shrugs. “I figured out I love working with teenagers and kids more than I care about adults. I mean Scoops Ahoy was a total chick magnet and the video store was fun, but nothing that I felt crazy for. After all the insane military shit in Hawkins, I got closer to Dustin and his friends. Then I just realized I wanted to help all of these kids. Even if it’s awkward..” He glances at you with a small smile. “Besides, someone’s gotta be the adult who actually talks to them, and I really get them.”
Your chest warms at his honesty.
“That sounds like you,” you say, giving him an earnest smile. Of course, his heart is as big as his hair, and he figured out how to make you fall for him more than ever.
Steve reaches and squeezes your hand, swaying with you as the song continues. “I guess I finally figured out what I’m good at.”
He chuckles again, shaking his head. “I’ve always known I wanted a bunch of kids. I just didn’t think I’d end up in a classroom with twenty of them, teaching the birds and the bees.” He smirks. “Or coaching baseball. Turns out, being a role model is actually… kind of amazing.”
You laugh softly, eyes sparkling. “Honestly, I would love to see dozens of mini Harringtons. Maybe they will all do good in the world, just like you”
He freezes for half a second before breaking into a grin. “Thank you,” he says, relieved. “Everyone usually thinks I’m insane when I say that.”
You laugh, and he spins you, dipping you close to the ground. “Oh, nice move, Harrington,” you giggle.
“You really are a great teacher and coach,” you say, still smiling as you smooth a stray lock of his hair back into place. “I don’t know if the students tell you enough. Especially since you give them A’s, but they respect you so much. Dustin, especially.”
Steve ducks his head, embarrassed but pleased. “Wow, thanks. That… actually means a lot.”
He pauses, then adds softly, “And you’ve done amazing things with them too. The gym looks incredible tonight. I walk by your classroom windows all the time, and there’s always something beautiful hanging up.” His voice gentles. “You’ve helped Will a lot. I’ve known that kid forever, and he’s really grown into himself.”
“I think that’s part of why I took this job. I love art. It’s been such an amazing and meaningful outlet for me since I was young, and I thought, maybe, I could do that for these kids,” you say, looking at him with earnest eyes. He’s not meeting your gaze, just looking vaguely at your heels with a soft smile. “Steve, I mean this with everything. You’re a good guy, and I just have a lot of respect for you.” You say with genuine care.
Your heart swells as he raises his gaze, locking eyes with you. For a moment, you just look at each other, understanding settling between you. It turns out you have more in common than you ever thought. Just two people who stayed, who chose to help raise and guide a generation growing up in a complicated world. Two people who want to give back to the place that shaped them. Hawkins isn’t something to be embarrassed about. It’s home. And standing there with Steve, under the stars and the soft hum of music, you realize there’s something quietly powerful about choosing to stay and choosing to care.
You don’t even notice how close he is until his breath brushes against your lips.
Your pulse stutters. You glance down for just a second, suddenly shy, and that’s when you feel his fingers gently touch your chin, lifting your face until your eyes meet his again. His smile is different now.
“I really want to kiss you,” Steve says quietly, his eyes flicking to your lips and back again, as if giving you every chance to pull away.
You don’t say a word. Instead, you rise onto the tips of your toes and close the space between you. You softly plant your lips on his, sealing the kiss that was meant to be.
He melts into the kiss instantly, like he’s been waiting years for it. His hands settle firmly at your waist, pulling you closer, grounding you, while your hands come up to cradle the side of his face. The world seems to fall away. The town below, the music, and the night sky engulfed you two into your private space. Your heart feels like it might burst, like something long-dormant has finally come alive. When you pull back, it’s slow, almost reluctant. You look up at him, cheeks warm, a little breathless. Steve’s eyes are bright, almost stunned, like fireworks are going off behind them. He laughs softly under his breath, disbelief and happiness tangled together.
“Wow,” he murmurs, still holding you close, forehead resting gently against yours.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” you joke lightly, caressing his cheek with your thumb.
In an instant, he’s pulling you for another kiss. This one deeper, more passionate. His tongue lightly presses on your lower lip, asking for permission. You smile against his lips and gladly accept.
“Oh shit! Look at them!” The voice cuts through the moment, followed by barely contained snickering. You and Steve break away from the kiss with reluctance and a little bit of confusion. But Steve instantly knew who those voices belonged to. Steve walks towards the edge of the rood, and he spots the goonies hiding in a bush.
“You have got to be kidding me!” Dustin, Mike, Will, Lucas, and Max are all crouching in a bush, spying on Steve from a far with binoculars.
“Oh come on guys, can’t I get a little privacy?”
“It was all Dustin’s idea,” Lucas points his fingers as does the rest of the crew. Dustin throws his hands up defensively. “Hey! I just wanted to make sure my plan worked—I mean, that you guys were okay!”
You burst into laughter. A snorting, snotty, red faced laughter at the situation. Those kids. They’re such good kids. They changed you and Steve’s lives for the better. Steve turns around and can’t help but to join in with your laughter too as you wipe the edges of your eyes.
“You kids,” you say fondly, catching your breath as you look pointedly at Will, who’s grinning back at you without a hint of guilt. “You’re just… too good.”
You gesture toward the gym doors. “Now go back inside. They’re probably about to crown the prom king and queen.”
There’s a chorus of mock groans, but they scatter obediently, Dustin calling out, “I still think this deserves credit!” as they disappear.
“Well,” he says, slipping his hand back into yours, “guess we owe them a thank-you.”
You smile up at him, heart still racing. “Yeah,” you agree. “But maybe from a distance.”
He laughs, leaning in until your foreheads touch, the stars bright overhead and the music drifting faintly up from below. You’ve never felt more certain you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
“Come on, we should probably get back inside too,” you say tugging at the edge of Steve’s sleeves, but he remains planted to the ground.
“Just one more,” he says slyly, pulling you into one more kiss. Your laughter is silenced by his plush lips. You close your eyes, savoring this moment and how familiar his lips feel. When he finally pulls away, he laces his fingers through yours and gives your hand a squeeze, grounding and reassuring. Then he leads you back toward the ladder, toward the stairs, toward the noise and lights waiting below.
And as you follow him, you can’t quite believe this is your life.
You’re glad New York never worked out. Glad you hated the city. Glad this position opened up in Hawkins when it did. You feel more like yourself than you ever have. And now there’s someone beside you, holding your hand and guiding you forward, wherever your heart wants to go next.
Steve Harrington and Hawkins have two things in common.
They both stayed, and somehow, they’ve both captured your heart entirely.