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The air was thick with dust and the smell of rusted metal. Every footstep echoed through the concrete corridor like a whisper from something long forgotten. Steve Harrington swung his flashlight slowly across the walls, the beam catching the broken glass, the flaking paint, the streaks of something he didn’t want to name.
“This place gives me the creeps,” he muttered.
Robin shot him a look over her shoulder. “Everything gives you the creeps now.”
“Because everything keeps trying to kill us, Robin,” Steve hissed back, gripping the nail-studded bat a little tighter.
But when Eleven suddenly stopped walking, every sound in the hallway seemed to dissolve. Her eyes had gone distant, locked on a sealed metal door at the end of the passage. The others fell silent too — Nancy, Dustin, Lucas, Max — each of them holding their breath.
“There’s someone in there,” Eleven said softly, almost reverently.
No one moved for a moment. Then Nancy stepped forward, her voice low but steady. “Can you open it?”
Eleven nodded once. The metal groaned in protest as the bolts twisted, buckled, and finally snapped free under the weight of her power.
The door swung open with a shriek.
Inside, the light from their flashlights spilled over a small, windowless room. The walls were covered in tallies scratched by fingernails — hundreds of them. And in the center, on a thin cot, sat a girl.
She looked up so suddenly that Steve’s flashlight trembled in his hand.
Her eyes were huge, disoriented, like she was staring straight through them — like she couldn’t decide if they were real or another hallucination. She was pale under the dirt, her wrists bruised from old restraints.
“Hey,” Nancy whispered, raising her hands slowly. “It’s okay. We’re friends. We’re here to help.”
But the girl didn’t move. She only drew her knees closer, shaking.
Then Eleven stepped forward. She didn’t speak at first. She just crouched down in front of her and said, gently, “You’re like me.”
That made the girl freeze.
Steve watched, his heart thudding hard in his chest as Eleven lifted her hand. A small, rusted tin plate rose from the floor — hovering, trembling slightly in the air.
The girl’s lips parted. And then, almost without thinking, she raised her own hand. The plate steadied, floated higher, then gently settled back onto the ground.
The room went still.
Eleven smiled — small, reassuring. “See? You’re safe now.”
The girl blinked, her breathing uneven. She looked at Eleven, then at the rest of them, uncertain but searching.
Steve crouched a little, keeping his distance. “Hey,” he said softly, his tone warm, careful — the same one he used when talking to Dustin after a nightmare. “You don’t have to stay here anymore. I’m Steve. These are my friends.”
No answer. Just that flicker of confusion and fear — and something else, something fragile.
“Promise,” Eleven said, touching her arm. “Steve’s good.”
Her gaze shifted to him. Steve tried a half-smile — the kind that said you can trust me, though his heart was beating so hard he swore everyone could hear it.
“You don’t have to talk yet,” he murmured. “We’ll just… get you out, yeah? No rush.”
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the girl nodded.
The ride back was quiet. The air from the car vents was cool and soft, carrying the faint scent of Robin’s bubblegum. Y/N sat in the back beside Nancy, wrapped in a blanket Dustin had found in the trunk. She didn’t speak — didn’t even look up from the window.
Steve kept catching glimpses of her in the rearview mirror. Her reflection flickered in the passing light of the streetlamps — the way her lashes cast faint shadows on her cheeks, the way her hands fidgeted under the blanket as if unsure how to just be.
She looked breakable. But there was something in the way she held herself — a quiet defiance — that made it clear she had survived things most people couldn’t.
When they reached his house, Steve parked the car in the driveway and hesitated for a second before speaking.
“So, uh,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck. “My parents are gone for the summer — Europe or whatever. I’m doing summer school so… I couldn’t go.” He gave a small, awkward smile. “You can stay here. Just until we figure something else out.”
Y/N’s fingers tightened around the blanket. She looked at the front of the house like it might be another trap.
“It’s okay,” Eleven said, reaching for her hand again. “Steve’s house is safe.”
The girl studied Eleven’s face for a long moment — then turned toward Steve. His hair was a little messy from the drive, his expression open and earnest.
He didn’t push. Didn’t move closer. He just waited.
Finally, she gave the smallest nod.
Robin leaned in toward him as Y/N followed Eleven up the walkway. “You sure about this, Harrington?” she whispered.
Steve’s lips quirked faintly. “Yeah,” he said. “She’s been through enough. Someone’s gotta make it feel like she’s not still in a cage.”
But when Y/N brushed past him on her way inside, her hair grazing his arm for a second, his breath caught.
He told himself it was nothing — just nerves, pity maybe — but his chest felt strange, tight.
And Y/N, even though she never looked back, found herself wondering if all boys her age were like him — so steady, so gentle, and so impossibly kind.
Because no one had ever looked at her like that before.
-----------------
Steve hadn’t realized how quiet his house could be until everyone was asleep. No music, no clinking of glasses, no hum of conversation — just the ticking of the clock downstairs and the steady hum of the refrigerator.
Robin was snoring softly from his room, sprawled diagonally across his bed with one of his pillows over her face. He’d tried to sleep in his parents’ room, but even that felt weird. Everything in there smelled faintly of his mom’s perfume and his dad’s aftershave — cold, expensive, and empty.
He’d been staring at the ceiling for almost an hour when he heard it.
Footsteps. Light and hesitant.
Steve frowned, sitting up slowly. The sound came again — pacing, back and forth, back and forth, soft enough that it could’ve been the wind if he didn’t know better. He threw on a T-shirt and padded out into the hallway.
Y/N was there.
Her bare feet were silent on the hardwood, her hair messy from sleep. She was walking small circles in front of the guest room door, head down, fingers twitching at her sides.
“Hey,” Steve said gently, voice still rough from sleep. “Everything okay?”
Y/N froze like she’d been caught doing something wrong. Then she nodded — quick, nervous.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Bed too soft or something?”
She shook her head.
“Too hot?”
Another shake.
Steve hesitated. “You want, uh… water? Maybe?”
She paused, then nodded.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Come on.”
He led the way downstairs, glancing over his shoulder every few steps to make sure she was still there. The kitchen light buzzed softly when he flipped it on. Y/N squinted at the brightness, but said nothing as he pulled two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with cold water.
She took the first one without hesitation, drinking it in a few quick gulps. Then another. And another. Steve blinked, half-impressed.
“Thirsty, huh?” he said, smiling a little.
She didn’t answer, just reached for the pitcher again. He leaned against the counter, watching her in the dim light — the way her hands trembled slightly, the way she avoided his eyes.
After a moment, he spoke again, softer. “You got a name?”
She paused mid-sip. Her eyes flicked up to him, uncertain. Then she lifted the glass again and drank. No answer.
Steve huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. “Right. Okay. No pressure.”
He turned to put the pitcher back when he heard it — small, quiet, like a fragile thread of sound:
“My name is Y/N.”
His head snapped up. She was looking down, fingers curling around the rim of the glass, but her voice — though soft — carried.
“Oh.” He blinked, then smiled. “Well… it’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”
She nodded once, bringing the glass back to her lips.
Steve didn’t push for more. He just filled a big jug with water, handed it to her, and motioned upstairs. “For later. In case you get thirsty again.”
Back in the guest room, she crawled under the blanket immediately, wrapping herself up until she was nothing but a small cocoon in the center of the bed. Steve leaned on the doorframe, watching her pull the covers up to her chin.
“Comfy?” he asked.
She peeked out from under the blanket, then nodded again.
He smiled, quiet and genuine. “Good.”
He reached for the light switch, flicked it off — and immediately, Y/N gasped, sitting up sharply, eyes wide with panic.
“Whoa—hey, sorry!” he said quickly, flipping it back on. “You want the light on?”
She nodded again, fast, like the darkness itself was something that could still reach for her.
“Okay,” Steve said softly. He turned the brightness down a little but kept the lamp glowing. The light painted her face in soft gold, enough to chase away the shadows. “Better?”
She nodded.
He smiled again — that easy, lopsided kind that made people trust him without realizing it. He left the door cracked open, just enough for her to see the hall light spilling in.
“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said quietly.
She didn’t respond, but when he turned to leave, he caught the faintest shift in her expression — a flicker of relief, maybe gratitude, maybe something she didn’t have words for yet.
Steve lingered a second longer, then closed the door partway and padded down the hall.
And for the first time since they found her, Y/N lay down without fear.
She watched the strip of light from the hallway stretch across the floor, and for the first time in years, she let her eyes close.
------------------
The morning sunlight poured through the kitchen windows, golden and soft, catching the faint dust in the air. The house smelled like pancakes and burnt butter — Robin had insisted she could cook, but Steve was the one flipping them, sleeves rolled up, spatula in hand, concentrating way too hard.
“Don’t burn that one,” Robin warned, taking a sip of orange juice.
“I’m not—” Steve started, only for the edge of the pancake to blacken. He cursed under his breath, scraping it onto the growing stack. “Okay, that one’s yours.”
“Rude.” Robin grinned, shoving his shoulder.
Y/N sat at the table, watching them quietly. The sound of their bickering was warm, familiar — like a language she’d forgotten how to understand. There was something magnetic about the way they moved around each other: Robin teasing, Steve rolling his eyes, both of them laughing without thinking. It was the kind of friendship that felt like home.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen something like that.
When Steve finally set a plate in front of her, stacked with pancakes and syrup glistening down the sides, she blinked at it like it was a piece of art.
“There you go,” Steve said softly. “Eat as much as you want, yeah?”
She nodded, gripping the fork carefully, almost unsure how to start — then once she did, she didn’t stop. Robin watched, trying not to look too obvious, but Y/N ate like someone who’d gone far too long without real food.
Steve smiled faintly, leaning against the counter with his own plate. “Guess I didn’t screw up too bad, huh?”
Y/N just hummed, still chewing.
They were halfway through breakfast when Steve realized they were out of milk. “I’ll run to the store real quick,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Don’t burn the house down while I’m gone.”
Robin saluted him dramatically. “No promises.”
When the door shut behind him, the kitchen fell into a comfortable silence. Y/N took another bite of pancake, eyes flicking toward Robin, then down again.
After a moment, she asked, quietly, “You and Steve…?”
Robin blinked, mid-bite. “What—? Oh!” She nearly choked on her food, waving a hand quickly. “No, no, no. God, no. We’re just friends. Very, very good friends, but — yeah. No.”
Y/N’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. Robin’s eyes widened.
“Oh my god,” she gasped softly, leaning closer. “You just talked.”
Y/N’s lips twitched into the smallest smile.
Robin grinned wide, excitement bubbling up instantly. “Okay, okay, wait— what’s your name again? You said it last night, right? Y/N?”
Y/N nodded.
“And how old are you?”
“Seventeen,” Y/N said between bites, syrup smudged on her lip.
Robin’s heart squeezed a little. She wanted to ask more, but she didn’t want to push. So instead, she just sat there and watched the girl eat like she was tasting sunlight for the first time.
By the time Steve came back, juggling a carton of milk and a newspaper, Y/N had polished off three pancakes and was eyeing the last one on Robin’s plate.
“Hey,” he said, dropping the milk on the counter. “You two didn’t, like, burn the toaster or summon demons or anything, right?”
Robin rolled her eyes. “Not yet.”
They all sat again, and after a quiet moment, Steve asked softly, “So… Y/N. If you don’t mind me asking — what happened? How’d you end up there?”
The air seemed to still. Y/N’s fork paused midair.
Then, slowly, she exhaled.
“I had a family,” she began, voice quiet but steady. “A good one. My mom taught music. My dad worked in town. We weren’t rich, but we were happy.”
She swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the table.
“Then one day… one of Papa’s people came. I was in middle school. I… made something float.” Her fingers twitched unconsciously, and a napkin lifted slightly from the table before she caught herself, letting it fall. “He saw. And that was it. They came at night. Told my parents it was for safety. For me. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”
Robin’s fork had gone still. Steve hadn’t moved.
“They kept me in a facility for older kids. Tests, training, the same things they did to Eleven, I think. But… lately, they started disappearing. Shutting everything down. The people running it left one day — they didn’t even tell us why. Just… gone.”
She looked up then, her eyes glassy but bright. “I thought I was going to die there. Until you found me.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The sunlight hit her hair, catching the faint gold in it, and Steve felt that familiar ache in his chest — the kind that came from realizing how much someone had survived just to sit at your table.
Robin reached out, setting her hand over Y/N’s. “Well… you’re not there anymore.”
Steve nodded, smiling softly, though his throat felt tight. “Yeah. You’re here now. And we’re really glad we found you.”
Y/N smiled — small, shy, but real. Then she stabbed the last pancake on her plate, eyes flicking up to meet theirs just once before she went back to eating.
Robin grinned at Steve over her head, and for a second, they both just sat there — watching the girl who, for the first time in years, looked like she finally believed she was safe.
--------------
By afternoon, the house was buzzing again.
Robin had put on music — something soft and a little out of tune — and the sunlight drifted lazily through the windows. Y/N was curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, looking more at peace than anyone had seen her since the night before.
Then came the knock on the door.
Steve opened it to find Eleven, Mike, and Dustin standing on the porch, faces bright with curiosity.
“She’s here?” Mike asked before even saying hello.
“Yeah,” Steve said, stepping aside. “But go easy, okay? She’s still figuring things out.”
The trio filed in quickly, Dustin carrying a backpack full of snacks like it was his ticket to any serious meeting. Eleven spotted Y/N immediately, her expression softening.
“Hi,” she said, walking over.
Y/N hesitated, then smiled. “Hi.”
They sat together on the rug, cross-legged, facing each other. The air in the room shifted — quiet, electric.
“Can you show me?” Eleven asked.
Y/N looked at Steve for a moment, as if asking permission. He nodded gently.
She lifted her hand, and the remote control on the coffee table rose into the air, floating effortlessly. Eleven blinked, impressed, then focused — the lamp beside the couch lifted to join it.
For a moment, both objects hovered side by side, caught between them like twin stars.
Everyone watched in awed silence.
Then Y/N flicked her wrist. The remote spun once, landing perfectly back on the table. Eleven laughed — an honest, joyful laugh that made Robin’s heart squeeze.
“You’re stronger than me,” Eleven said quietly, wonder in her voice.
Y/N smiled a little. “Maybe I just had more time to practice.”
Eleven grinned and reached for her hand. “Maybe you can teach me.”
Y/N’s smile softened as their fingers met. For the first time, she didn’t look scared. She looked understood.
Steve stood a little back, arms crossed loosely, watching the two girls with something between pride and protectiveness. It felt good — seeing her like that, seeing both of them like that. Like all the pain hadn’t been for nothing.
After a few minutes, Y/N got up, brushing her hands on her jeans. “I’m gonna grab a glass of water,” she said.
“I’ll get it,” Steve said instantly, already standing.
She blinked in surprise, then smiled. “Thanks.”
He nodded, heading to the kitchen.
Dustin trailed after him, smirking like he was watching a soap opera.
Steve poured the water, pretending not to notice. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Dustin said, leaning on the counter. “Except for the part where you basically just confessed your undying love for her.”
Steve froze mid-pour. “What? No, I didn’t—what are you even talking about?”
“‘I’ll get it.’” Dustin mimicked dramatically, clutching his chest. “‘I’ll get it for you, Y/N.’ Bro, do you even hear yourself? You’re like one sad acoustic guitar away from writing her a love song.”
Steve glared at him. “I was being nice. She just escaped a government lab, Dustin. Excuse me for trying to be hospitable.”
Dustin raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. You fall for girls way too easily, man.”
“Nothing is going on,” Steve said firmly, handing him the milk carton he’d left on the counter. “Nothing.”
“Sure thing, Romeo.”
Steve ignored him, carrying the glass back into the living room. Y/N looked up as he approached, her expression gentle. She accepted the glass, their fingers brushing briefly — just enough to make something flicker in both of them.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
“Yeah,” he said, sitting down beside her. “Anytime.”
Dustin plopped into a chair, grinning like he knew everything. Robin rolled her eyes.
The room fell into a soft, easy rhythm again — Mike and Dustin chatting about the Demogorgon comic they’d just found, Robin teasing Steve under her breath, Eleven still smiling beside Y/N.
Y/N took a sip of her water, then glanced sideways. Steve’s arm rested casually along the back of the couch, his body warm beside hers. She could feel the heat of him, steady and alive — a feeling she hadn’t known she missed until now.
She didn’t move away.
And Steve… didn’t either.
---------------------
The mall was busy and loud — a swirl of laughter, pop music, and air-conditioning that smelled faintly like buttered popcorn. Y/N clutched the paper shopping bag to her chest as they moved between stores, her wide eyes scanning every window display like the world itself was new again.
Nancy led the way, already plucking dresses off racks and holding them up against Y/N’s frame. “You’d look adorable in this one,” she said, pressing a soft yellow sundress into her arms.
Y/N ducked her head shyly but smiled, disappearing into the dressing room.
Steve sank into the little waiting chair outside the stalls, drumming his fingers against his thigh. He tried to look anywhere but the mirror where he could see flashes of Y/N’s bare shoulders as she changed. Dude, stop, he told himself. She’s been through hell. She doesn’t need you staring like an idiot.
Nancy came out holding a pair of jeans. “She’s sweet, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” Steve mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she is.”
When Y/N stepped out, her hair falling softly over the yellow fabric, Steve forgot how to breathe for a second. The mall lighting made her look almost unreal, sunlight trapped in human form.
Nancy grinned at him knowingly. “You okay there, Harrington?”
He coughed. “Yeah. Fine. Totally fine.”
By the time they’d hit the bookstore, Y/N had gathered a small pile of novels and trinkets — a little ceramic owl, a silver bookmark. She ran her fingers reverently over the book covers like she’d missed the feeling of paper. Steve just watched her quietly, thinking that for someone who’d been locked away from the world, she carried herself with such quiet curiosity.
When Nancy left for her date with Jonathan, it was suddenly just the two of them.
Steve cleared his throat. “Wanna grab some ice cream?”
Her eyes lit up, and that was all the answer he needed.
At Scoops Ahoy, Steve ordered a banana split, setting it between them on the small round table. He remembered the way she’d drowned her pancakes in syrup that morning, and he smiled. “You seemed like a sweets kind of person.”
Y/N took the first bite, her eyes fluttering shut, a tiny sound leaving her throat — soft, surprised, and way too distracting. Steve’s spoon froze midair. He had to look away, pretending to study the neon menu.
“This is really good,” she murmured, her lips shining with a bit of whipped cream.
Steve reached across without thinking, brushing it away with a napkin. His hand lingered a moment too long, fingers brushing her cheek. When he realized what he’d done, he pulled back like he’d touched fire. “Sorry. Just—uh—you had something there.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Thank you.”
They ate in silence for a while after that, the kind that wasn’t uncomfortable but felt… fragile.
Then, softly, she asked, “Why are you so nice to me?”
Steve blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t even know me,” she said. “You let me stay in your home. You… you protect me. I don’t understand.”
He set his spoon down, meeting her gaze. “Because you deserve to feel safe. Everyone does.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to say more, but instead, her spoon slipped and clattered against the bowl. Steve bent to pick it up. “I’ll grab you another—”
But before he could move, the spoon lifted gently off the table, floating toward her.
Steve’s breath caught. He reached over, covering her hand, lowering it back down. “Hey,” he whispered, glancing around. “Not in public, okay? It’s not safe.”
Y/N froze, eyes wide — then nodded slowly. Steve didn’t move his hand from hers right away.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide who you are. Just… not here, alright?”
Her shoulders relaxed at his tone, and she gave the smallest smile — a shy, fragile thing that made something tighten in his chest.
“Okay,” she whispered.
They finished the sundae side by side, the hum of the mall around them fading into something quieter. Steve couldn’t tell if it was the sugar, or her presence, or the way her eyes lingered on him now and then — but something about that moment felt new. Like the start of something neither of them knew how to name yet.
---------------
Nancy curled up on her bed, still smiling as she dialed Robin’s number.
“Hey,” she said, twirling the phone cord around her finger. “Date went great, but I have to tell you something before I forget.”
Robin’s voice crackled on the other end. “Uh oh. What?”
“Nancy,” she said, grinning. “Steve definitely likes Y/N. You should’ve seen him today. The way he looked at her in that yellow dress? It was like a scene out of one of those cheesy romance movies he pretends he doesn’t watch.”
Robin snorted. “No way. Steve? Our Steve?”
“Oh, absolutely. He doesn’t even know it yet, but that boy’s in deep.”
Both of them dissolved into giggles, their laughter spilling through the phone line, warm and fond.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait,” Robin said, sighing dramatically. “He’ll figure it out all by himself soon enough.”
The front door creaked open at nearly the same time.
Steve stumbled in, arms full of shopping bags, Y/N trailing behind him with the rest. She looked tired but content, her steps light as she set the bags down by the couch.
“Okay,” Steve exhaled, stretching his back. “We officially bought half the mall.”
Y/N laughed softly under her breath, a sound that made his stomach twist in the best way.
He glanced at the pile, then suddenly groaned. “Ah, crap. We forgot to get you pajamas.”
She tilted her head, blinking up at him.
“It’s fine,” he said quickly, running a hand through his hair. “You can wear some of mine for now.”
He disappeared into his room and came back holding a pair of grey sweatpants and a faded old gym shirt from freshman year — one with his last name printed across the back. It looked huge in her hands.
“They’ll probably be too big,” he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly, “but—uh—they’re clean. And soft.”
Y/N smiled, clutching them like they were made of silk. “Thank you.”
“Bathroom’s down the hall,” he said, pointing. “You can try the new soaps Nancy got you.”
The moment she closed the door, Steve sank into the couch and cracked open a soda, the carbonation hissing quietly. He leaned his head back against the cushion, staring at the ceiling.
It was wild how fast everything had changed. One week ago, his biggest problem was passing summer school. Now there was a girl with powers sleeping under his roof — a girl with kind eyes, a quiet laugh, and a story that made his chest ache just thinking about it.
He took another sip of soda. What the hell are you doing, Harrington?
The bathroom door opened with a faint click.
Y/N stepped out, steam curling from the doorway. Her damp hair clung to her cheeks, and Steve’s shirt hung loosely on her, sleeves falling past her elbows. Her skin looked soft, freshly scrubbed, the faint smell of honey and citrus drifting through the air.
She padded over and sat beside him on the couch, tucking her legs up under her.
“You can change the channel,” he said, nodding to the TV. “I was just catching up on basketball.”
She tilted her head — then, without touching the remote, the channel flicked once. Twice.
Steve blinked, half a laugh escaping him. “Right. Forgot you could do that.”
Y/N kept flipping until the screen landed on a documentary about ocean life. A narrator’s calm voice filled the room, describing coral reefs and migrating whales. Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, glowing blue in the TV light, like she was trying to memorize the world she’d missed.
Steve smiled faintly. Cute, he thought, before he could stop himself.
He got up and made popcorn, returning to find her leaning forward slightly, completely captivated by the jellyfish drifting across the screen. She took a handful from the bowl when he offered it, their fingers brushing for half a second longer than they needed to.
They didn’t talk much after that. The room was warm and quiet — the kind of quiet that felt safe.
Halfway through the documentary, Steve noticed she’d slumped to the side, head tilted against the couch cushion. Her hand still rested in the bowl, a few kernels clinging to her palm.
He smiled softly, lifting the bowl from her fingers and setting it on the coffee table. She barely stirred.
Pulling the couch blanket over her shoulders, he stood there for a moment, watching her breathe. The flickering light of the TV washed over her face, making her look peaceful — like she’d finally found somewhere she could rest.
Steve exhaled and raked a hand through his hair, forcing himself to step back.
He took a long shower, letting the water beat down on his shoulders. But even with his eyes closed, all he could see was her — in his shirt, in his house, asleep on his couch.
And for the first time in a long time, Steve Harrington wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing.
Because the girl he’d promised to protect…
was starting to feel like the one he couldn’t afford to fall for.
----------------
The next morning the world felt still — sunlight slipping through the curtains, the smell of coffee filling the Harrington kitchen. Steve leaned against the counter, sipping from a chipped mug, half awake and half thinking about the girl still asleep in his guest room.
He’d stayed up too late the night before, replaying the way she’d fallen asleep during the documentary — how peaceful she’d looked, how strange it felt to have someone else’s quiet presence in his house again.
The phone rang, breaking his thoughts. He grabbed it.
“Yo, Harrington! Summer party tonight,” one of his friends shouted over the crackle of static and music. “Big pool thing over at the Hendersons’ cousin’s place. You coming or what?”
Steve hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Yeah. Sure. Why not?”
When he hung up, he found Y/N standing in the doorway, still in his oversized shirt, hair a sleepy mess.
“Morning,” he said, voice soft. “You sleep okay?”
She nodded, rubbing her eyes.
He hesitated before speaking again. “So, uh… there’s a party tonight. Thought maybe you’d wanna come? Robin, Nancy, and Jonathan will be there too. It’s chill, nothing crazy. You don’t have to, but—”
“I’ll go,” she said quietly, surprising him.
He blinked. “Yeah?”
Her nod was shy, but real. “I want to.”
By early evening, the house buzzed with laughter and movement. Robin and Nancy had arrived with bags full of makeup, hairbrushes, and accessories, claiming the guest room like a small beauty salon.
Steve sat on the couch, pretending to read a magazine, but the sound of their giggles and chatter drifted down the hallway — soft, warm, alive.
It made something ease in his chest. His house, for so long too big and too quiet, suddenly felt like it had a heartbeat.
“Steve!” Robin shouted through the door. “No peeking, dingus!”
He chuckled, tossing the magazine aside. “Wasn’t planning to!”
“Sure you weren’t,” Robin teased.
The door finally opened after what felt like forever.
Nancy walked out first, adjusting her earrings; Robin followed, grinning and twirling dramatically. But when Y/N stepped into the hallway, everything around Steve seemed to slow down.
She wasn’t overdressed — just soft curls, a bit of gloss on her lips, a sundress in a color that made her eyes stand out. Simple. Beautiful. She shifted nervously under his gaze, smoothing her hands down the fabric.
Steve cleared his throat, trying not to stare but failing miserably. “Wow. Uh… you guys all look great.”
Robin elbowed him playfully. “You mean we or she?”
Steve shot her a look. “All of you,” he said quickly — though his eyes lingered on Y/N a moment too long, the corner of his mouth lifting in a quiet smile.
Her cheeks warmed, but she smiled back, small and hesitant.
“Ready?” Nancy asked, grabbing her bag.
Y/N nodded.
Steve grabbed his car keys and glanced back once more before heading out. The girls followed, laughter filling the air behind him.
He didn’t say it out loud, but as they walked toward the car — her soft footsteps next to his — he realized something he hadn’t wanted to admit until now:
He liked the sound of her laughter in his house.
He liked the way her name sounded when he said it.
And God help him — he was already in trouble.
-------------
The sun had barely dipped below the trees when they pulled up to the party. Music drifted through the thick summer air, mixed with the smell of sunscreen, barbecue smoke, and chlorine. Strings of fairy lights looped over the pool, and the water glowed electric blue beneath them.
Y/N hesitated just behind Steve’s shoulder as they stepped inside the gate. The hum of voices was louder than she expected; too many people, too much movement. Steve turned to her, voice low enough that only she could hear.
“Hey. You’re good. Stick with us, yeah?”
She nodded, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. Robin gave her an encouraging smile and tugged her toward the snack table.
Within minutes, people were greeting Steve, clapping him on the shoulder, shouting his name. He gave the usual half-smile, the one that said he’d been to a thousand parties like this before, but his eyes kept sliding back toward Y/N. She was standing beside Robin, head tilted curiously at a bowl of neon-colored punch, like she couldn’t quite believe it was real.
Two guys from his summer class wandered over, plastic cups in hand.
“Yo, Harrington,” one of them said, eyeing the girls. “Who’s that with you? Haven’t seen her around before.”
Steve’s jaw flexed. “Family friend. Just moved here.”
He said it lightly, but there was a quiet finality in his tone that made both of them back off a step.
“Pretty cute,” the other guy muttered, elbowing his friend.
Steve’s eyes flicked toward him, calm but sharp. “Yeah,” he said evenly. “She’s taken care of.”
The guys laughed awkwardly and moved on.
Robin, who’d been close enough to hear, arched an eyebrow. “You do realize you just scared off half the pool?”
Steve shrugged, pretending not to care. “What? I’m just making sure she’s not overwhelmed. She doesn’t… know people yet.”
Robin smirked. “Sure, hero. Just looking out for her.”
Across the yard, Y/N had found Nancy and Jonathan by the pool steps. Someone handed her a soda; she thanked them politely, smile small but genuine. Every once in a while, her gaze drifted toward Steve—just long enough for Robin to notice.
Steve, for his part, didn’t flirt with anyone. A few girls tried—laughing at his old stories, touching his arm—but his attention kept wandering back to the edge of the pool where Y/N was sitting, dipping her toes into the water. Her expression was a mix of wonder and something softer, like she was finally tasting normal life again.
Robin nudged him. “You know, for someone who said this party would be fun, you’ve barely looked away from her all night.”
He blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just making sure she’s okay.”
“Uh-huh.” Robin rolled her eyes, smiling. “You’re hopeless.”
Steve didn’t answer. The music swelled, lights reflecting in Y/N’s hair, and he thought—just for a second—that maybe Robin was right.
The party had thinned out by the time the moon rose.
Laughter drifted faintly from the backyard, fading into the steady hum of cicadas. Down by the lake, away from the lights and noise, the air was cooler, the water rippling silver in the dark.
Y/N sat on the wooden dock, shoes off, toes skimming the surface. The breeze played with the hem of her dress. She could still hear distant music, but out here it sounded soft, far away, like another world.
Steve found her there a few minutes later, hands shoved in his pockets.
“Thought I’d find you out here,” he said gently.
She glanced back at him, a little smile tugging at her mouth. “It’s quieter.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, lowering himself to sit beside her. The boards creaked under his weight. “Parties aren’t really my thing anymore.”
Y/N tilted her head. “You seemed like you liked them before.”
He huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well. Used to.”
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. The moonlight painted both their faces pale gold. Y/N watched him from the corner of her eye—how his reflection shimmered in the lake, how he stared at the water like he was thinking too hard.
“What about you?” she asked suddenly. “What do you like to do? When you’re not saving people from monsters or… babysitting the world?”
Steve smiled at that. “I don’t know. Work. Movies. Fixing stuff around the house.”
“Must be nice,” she said softly. “Having a house.”
He shrugged, looking down at his hands. “It’s big. Kind of empty, actually. My parents are gone most of the year, so it’s just… me. And a lot of silence.”
Y/N studied him quietly. There was a sadness in the way he said it, the kind that didn’t always show in words.
Her eyes caught on a faint scar near his collarbone, half hidden by his shirt. “That hurt?” she asked, pointing.
He looked surprised, fingers brushing it unconsciously. “Oh. That one? Demogorgon. Long story.”
She reached out before she could stop herself, tracing it lightly with her fingertip. “You don’t look scared.”
Steve swallowed, every muscle still. “Guess I got used to being scared,” he said after a beat, voice low. Her touch was feather-light, but it sent a shiver up his neck all the same.
She pulled her hand back, frowning slightly. “Sorry.”
“No,” he said quickly. “It’s okay.”
They sat in silence again, the sound of the water lapping at the dock. After a moment Y/N asked, “Won’t your girlfriend mind that I’m staying at your house?”
Steve turned his head toward her, one eyebrow raised. “Girlfriend?”
She nodded, suddenly self-conscious. “You seem… popular.”
He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Nah. No girlfriend. Not for a while.”
Y/N blinked, surprised. “Oh.”
“Guess I’m just… waiting for something that feels real, you know?” he said, voice softer now. He looked back toward the water, avoiding her eyes.
Y/N nodded slowly, thinking about how strange it was to feel seen by someone for the first time. The stars rippled on the surface of the lake between them.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. They didn’t have to. The quiet said enough.