Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

- wednesday, thursday, friday - the days of which rebecca munson was missing -

Hawkins, Indiana, 9th September, 1983,

Birds tweeted from the leafless branches of the trees behind Steve's house, his alarm sounding at an alarmingly high volume, causing him to lazily whack the top of it with his hand, groaning as he forced his hand open. The warmth of Nancy was no longer there and a frown tugged at his pouted lips as he remembered how he'd let her leave without a simple 'goodbye' or offer to take her home. Guilt nested in his stomach.

Nancy Wheeler was the spitting image of the girl his mother and father hoped he would have. White picket fence, perfect grades, and a wealthy family. It also helped that she was beautiful. That was why he'd spoken to Nancy in the first place, moving in on her at the last basketball game, telling her that she was a pretty face in the crowd. She was the very idea of perfect.

But last night was far from the idea of perfect. 

It started out amazing. She slipped off her shirt, presenting herself to him, allowing him to fall on top of her during their kisses, tugging at his shirt and discarding it on the floor. There was something there. It was not fiery or passionate, or raw need, but it was certainly something. Then, as soon as the kissing ended and they moved on to everything else, he failed at what he thought he did best: making her feel good. He was on cloud nine while she was still halfway there. When he offered to go down on her, she smiled meekly and shook her head, saying that she was tired, resting her head on top of his chest. That part was nice.

Until the lights began to flicker and he heard his name being called in an oddly distorted voice from somewhere he could not quite gage. 

Luckily, as soon as it started, it had stopped, leaving him and Nancy in peace. They fell asleep on separate sides of the bed and she left with nothing from him except from a few grumbles. 

Maybe Rebecca was right to be concerned about the blossoming relationship between him and Nancy. After all, something was not working—no matter how determined he was. This was the first time he'd felt anything real for a girl since Rebecca and he refused to toss it to the side. He refused to fuck up and do something he would regret; exactly how he'd done with Rebecca.

In his half-asleep state, he stumbled out of the house with toast in his mouth, not fully taking in the fact that Rebecca's red wagon was parked next to his BMW, wiping the sleep from his eyes and forcing himself to wake up before pulling out of the driveway.

By the time he arrived at school, he was already swarmed by three people he didn't particularly want to see after Rebecca had—once again—questioned him about his life decisions: Tommy H. Carol and Liam. The third man snaked an arm around him, pulling him in and ruffling up his hair, which Steve rushed to fix. "Those two told me you got some last night!" He lifted his free hand, wiggling his brows. "Up top, Harrington."

Steve pulled himself away, forcing a smile on his face and reciprocating the gesture before turning to Tommy, who was grinning. "You haven't told everyone, right?"

Tommy shook his head. "No. But if the people heard, then the people heard."

Steve furrowed his brow, staring ahead through the halls, checking to see if there were anyone's eyes on him. Thankfully, there were none. Carol smacked her lips together and chewed on her gum, pulling Tommy off into the Janitor's closet to make out, leaving Steve and the one guy he hated with his whole soul alone. The only reason they were still 'friends' was because of their deal, and he desperately hoped Liam was sticking to his side of the bargain. "So..." Liam tugged at the sleeves of his denim jacket. "Was she good?"

"Nance?" The boy replied with a nod. "Yeah...she was...good."

"Better than Rebecca?"

Steve's eyes widened with disgust, lips curling into a scowl as he shook his head, clarifying, "Okay, dude. First of all, we never did anything like that. And second of all, don't talk about her like that, or at all."

The man snickered and walked through the halls alongside Steve, who was searching for Nancy before class started. Chemistry first. "My bad, man. I forgot you were so protective over her."

"I'm not."

"Right. Remind me, Harrington, why is it that you and I are still friends? Oh, that's right. You don't want me talking to your precious friend."

Steve bit back a remark, not wanting to stir the pot. "Yeah, yeah."

"See you around, Harrington."

And with that, Liam faded into the crowd of students, leaving Steve on his own to wander down the hall, eyes flicking back and forth between every person until he found Nancy at her locker. Her eyes were glazed over, almost like she wasn't grounded in her reality. He moved in for a kiss but she quickly jumped back, clashing into the lockers behind her. "Sorry!"

"Don't apologise," she mumbled. "I'm sorry for jumping back. I'm just...—" There was a thoughtful pause. "—tired. Didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Hm, I wonder why."

At the sound of his teasing tone, Nancy's eyes skitted around the hallway, seemingly shrinking in response. "Yeah..."

"I'm sure nobody knows about it, by the way."

"Right...I'm gonna go to class."

"The bell hasn't even gone yet."

Nancy swiftly leaned in, kissing him on his cheek before wandering down the hall, looking from side to side like she was searching for something. He stood by her locker and sighed, already fed up with the day. That was when the bell rang and he made his way over to Chemistry.

Rebecca was always the first one out of the both of them to arrive. Whenever he walked in, she would be sat down with a hateful glare plastered across her face, scoffing whenever he would show up late. She was not there. Something similar to worry built inside of his body, but he quickly dismissed it, telling himself she might just be busy getting something from her locker or talking to friends. However, ignoring the concern became difficult when she did not show up at all. Chemistry was her favourite lesson—the one thing she always accomplished As is. But she never showed up. 

Swallowing his nerves, he stepped outside of the classroom and made his way over to his locker, stuffing his Chemistry book into there. That was when he felt a finger tap his shoulder twice. He swirled around, being greeted by Eddie Munson. Neither of them had spoken since before everything went down between Rebecca and Steve. Ever since then, they had simply exchanged awkward glances whenever they walked past each other. The boy had an apprehensive look on his face as he said, "Steve 'The Hair' Harrington."

"Eddie 'The Freak' Munson," Steve replied, using his given name.

There was only a spoonful of people who did not believe Eddie was part of a satanic cult, or that he wasn't terrifyingly mean, or an outlier in Hawkins. The boy stomped around, only speaking to his group of friends in Hellfire—outside of Rebecca—and constantly denounced things like cliques, sports, and parties that were thrown by anyone involved in sports. Steve thought it was ironic that he denounced cliques, considering that he actively participated in the idea of them by hating anyone popular. To be fair, almost everyone popular constantly pushed him around and called him names like they were still in middle school. So maybe it wasn't dramatic for him to despise the popular kids.

Steve watched as Eddie buried his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes darting down to the ground. Concern exuded from him, making the knot in Steve's stomach increase tenfold. Then, he removed his hands from his pockets, wiping at his mouth. 

"Have you seen Bex?"

He was biting the jagged ends of his fingernails, almost digging into his nail bed with his teeth. His right leg bounced in a continuous loop, the bottom of his black combat boots beating against the floor frantically as he waited for Steve to respond, frenzied eyes staring into his soul.

A slight tremble laced Steve's tone as he replied, "No." It was followed by a dejected sigh. "I was wondering where she was."

"Well that's just fucking great," Eddie sighed, pouting his lips in a manner that was shockingly similar to his twin. "She usually calls...or at least makes sure to let me and Wayne know beforehand if she's gone out somewhere else."

"She might be with Barb. They went off when me and Nancy..." Steve cut himself out, eyes darting down to the floor, lowering his voice so that it was only a mumble as he said, "...had sex."

With a snort, Eddie rolled his eyes. "Don't get all coy about your sex life, Harrington, because I really don't care. There are bigger fish to fry."

"Bex."

"Bex." An affirmative nod followed and Eddie nodded over in Nancy's direction, watching as she walked alone down the hall. "Doesn't Wheeler usually have Barb by her side?"

Steve muttered a sorrowful curse, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of panic gnawing away at his insides. The Munson twin was right; Barb was always with Nancy. From what he could remember, the two had been friends since middle school at the earliest, and it was bizarre to imagine a world where they weren't together. His lips pulled down at the sides and Eddie stepped forward, cocking his head to the side. "Don't worry, man. We'll find her."

"You're not...giving me the cold shoulder? You don't hate my guts and want me to die like Bex?"

In response, Eddie snorted bitterly, still fretting over the fact that his sister was nowhere to be found—understandable—and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Look, dude. Do I like the shit that you said to my sister? No. I was this—" He made a gesture with his hands to show the amount. "—close to beating your ass, but then she reminded me that I'm not the fighter." 

"Does this have a point?"

"Yeah, dude, I was just getting there." Eddie crossed his arms. "My point is that she's just—to put it nicely—pretty shit at handling her emotions. She doesn't hate your guts, or want you to die, and the only reason she's giving you the cold shoulder is because she's pretty damn stubborn." There was a shared scoff between them. "I don't want you to die either. What I want is for you to make sure to keep an eye out for Bex."

Steve promised that he would, nodding enthusiastically but not feeling the same emotions inside. A bottomless pit was forming inside of him as he walked to his next class, eyes looking from left to right and hoping she would show up. 

The day faded into lunch—a harrowing time for Steve because he was forced to put up with the over-the-top, forced, mocking moans from Carol, accompanied by Tommy H. and his childlike behaviour, Liam laughing along as his serpentine eyes swept over the room. Nancy looked around too, most likely finding the watchful gazes of the people who cared to look their way but also looking for Barb. He knew the feeling—wanting to see someone who didn't seem to show. Either of them couldn't pry their eyes away from the open doors of the canteen. 

Nancy despised the feelings that haunted her. 

Anxiety, growing nausea, and a mind-numbing headache that left her ready to break down at any given moment. That was how she felt as she moved through the hallway of Hawkins High, trying to find the nearest exit. She needed to call someone. An adult, preferably. She needed to make sure that her two friends were okay.

"Nancy," she heard someone say.

Then another voice: "Nancy!"

She paused, turning around to reveal a group of four familiar faces. Her memory told her that they were friends of Rebecca—the people who had taken her in shortly before Nancy and Barb had truly made her a friend. Charlotte Rigby stood at the front of the group, arms crossed and pink lips pouted. Behind her stood her boyfriend, who had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his cargo pants, huddled closely to Peter and Ayan. The three boys showed the same level of concern as Charlotte. 

"I'm guessing you haven't seen Becca either?" Charlotte enquired with a raise of her brow. When the other girl shook her head, her arms fell to her side, and Finley stepped forward to lace his hand with hers. "Did she call—after the party? Did she leave?"

"I...I don't know." Nancy fiddled with her sleeves, awkwardly tugging at them in the hopes that her outfit would stop feeling like it was choking her neck. "I was going to see if Wayne was home."

Ayan went to open his mouth, but was stopped by the familiar sound of someone calling out, "Hey!"

His cheeks reddened as he turned to see Eddie Munson walking forward. "Where's Wheeler?"

"She's—"

"—I'm over here," Nancy clarified, moving to the side so that Eddie could see her past the small crowd of people. "Uhm, do you know if Rebecca—"

"—That was exactly why I was looking for you. Have you seen her?"

"None of us have," Peter muttered. 

Eddie's groan was overdramatic, possibly covering up the nervous tick that he had where he messed with the oversized rings that he had taped to his fingers. "Shit. Shit. Shit."

"Look, man," Finley said, "are you sure she isn't just taking the day off?"

"I didn't see her this morning, dude, and I don't know where else she would've spent the night. So, that's a no."

"Maybe she went back with Barb?" Ayan offered quietly. 

Eddie shrugged. "I doubt those two goodie-two-shoes would skip school together."

"Yeah."

"Why don't we just call the house?" Nancy suggested, her tone of voice coated with the bitter sound of nerves. "I was going to do that, but..." She gestured to the group of people standing in front of her. Dismissively, she sighed and waved a hand, muttering, "Just...come on."

Everyone followed in her steps, walking toward the double doors of Hawkins High. Finley pulled his girlfriend in close as she whispered her concerns. Peter adjusted his baggy band shirt, looking over at Ayan as the boy awkwardly shuffled along next to Eddie, who had hesitantly followed Nancy's orders. 

They found themselves huddled around the phonebox that was stuffed away near the car park, cars ordered in rows that slightly calmed the shooting nerves that soared in Eddie. A shaky hand reached out for the phone, Nancy's slender fingers pushing into the numbers before she heard the phone try to reach out for the Hollands, hoping and begging the God that her parents believed in to be there and make sure she was going to get the answer she wished for—that both girls were there and safe. 

Finally, a soft voice spoke from the other end of the line, "Hello?"

"H-Hi, Mrs Holland," Nancy said, trying to push away the anxiety in her voice. "Um, do you know if Barb and Rebecca came home last night? After the...assembly." Nobody else heard what the other lady said, but they watched the girl's face quickly twist into an urgent one, lines appearing on her forehead. "Yeah, she did...I meant, um, this morning, sorry. She said she needed to get some...textbooks. Rebecca said she'd go with her." Nancy nodded along with her eyes glued to the ground. "You know what?" A bitter laugh followed. "I just remembered that they were going to the library! Sorry, my mind has been scrambled with the whole Will situation."

There was a beat of silence, everyone's shallow breathing haunting the air as they waited for what seemed like forever. Nancy hummed in agreement to something Mrs Holland had said before putting the phone back, slumping against the wall as she buried her head in her hands.

A low whistle came from Ayan as he stepped forward, dialling a number while Charlotte went over to the girl, trying her hardest to comfort the worry. Eddie followed the boy over to the phone, peering in as he said, "Let me call her, please."

Ayan passed the phone over to the metalhead, standing by as he watched Eddie's tongue poke out from his slightly parted lips, waiting to watch a hopeful smile appear on his face. 

But it never did.

Nobody answered.

"Fuck!" Eddie swore, letting the phone drop down, hanging by the cord. As he stomped off, still muttering curses, Peter moved over to pick up the phone, placing it back where it belonged and wiping at his eyes. Nobody had a chance to say anything to him because he'd already disappeared when they looked back. 

The last time Steve had experienced a headache was during his most recent hangover. That hangover happened when he'd first seen Rebecca Munson after a summer of her avoiding him—quickly dashing away whenever they'd seen each other in public and making sure to look away whenever he so much as glanced in her direction. So, when he'd returned to Hawkins High and saw her face for longer than a brief second, he'd spent the night housing beers while his parents were on another business trip. Embarrassingly, he'd sang along to the cheesy breakup songs that were amongst his parents' record collection. And, admittedly, he'd teared up at Bob Dylan's 'If You See Her, Say Hello'. 

The morning after, he'd woken up with a mind-numbing headache, unable to form a single thought besides what was for breakfast. The headache had almost made him believe that he was being plagued by some sort of rapid, sudden tumour that would torment him forever, even if the thought was entirely dramatic.

However, this headache was on a whole other level of pain, pulsing in his head like a fresh wound exposed to anything and everything. School had finally finished, and now it was just a matter of waiting around for an extra couple of hours before the baseball game. A part of him wanted to go home. Maybe he would explore Hawkins and find Rebecca in a music shop, looking for cassettes to pop on the radio or shopping for the weekly groceries. 

Stumbling out to the car park, he walked over to his three 'friends', watching as they spoke in hushed whispers to Nicole. 

"No way. I knew he was a freak, but..." Tommy tutted, crossing his arms with arrogance. 

Snickering, Carol added, "Yeah, but this is, like, insane. I guess we should've known. He looked ready to pop a boner when she spoke to him the other day."

"I guess that freak never gets much action," Liam whispered. His eyes darted up, seeing a cross-armed Steve standing behind them. "Hey, man."

"What's going on?"

Nicole moved around to the front, cocking her head to the side as she explained what she had found when she was in the dark room, recalling how a skittish Jonathan had quickly tried to cover up his perverted photos of the party last night. The information made his stomach crawl, rage seeping into his veins and resting there, ready to blow over at any moment. 

It wasn't like he was thinking straight when he saw Jonathan walking through the car park.

He certainly wasn't thinking when he said, "Hey, man."

Jonathan looked at the group, his bag hanging off only one shoulder. "What's going on?"

"Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work."

"We've heard great things," Carol mused as Tommy added, "Yeah, sounds cool."

"And we'd love to take a look. You know, as...connoisseurs of art."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Steve knew it was a lie, but he didn't go to intervene as Jonathan went to walk away. Not because he wanted to let Jonathan go. In fact, it was the opposite. But Steve did not have to stop Jonathan. Tommy was already reaching out, Liam holding Jonathan back as the former boy pulled off the backpack and carelessly tossed it over to Steve. "Man, he is totally trembling. He must have something to hide."

He unzipped it and rifled through until he found the images, flipping through them without properly taking in the contents. All he could see were him and the others, standing around, jumping into the pool, and another one with Nancy. There wasn't much in his mind except for a raging headache and confusion. Jonathan Byers was an outcast. A guy who didn't bother with others. But he'd never considered that the idea of him being a 'perverted loser' could be anything more than petty high school bullying. 

But maybe it was.

He wasn't thinking when he handed some of them over to the group of people he associated with.

"Yeah, this totally isn't creepy at all," Carol said, furrowing her brow. 

"I was looking for my brother."

"No." Steve rolled up the image in his hand, waving it toward the image in Carol's hands. "No, this is called stalking."

He saw Nancy appear, her dainty features twisting into confusion and sympathy—sympathy for Jonathan. 

"What's going on?" Nancy asked.

"Here's the starring lady," the brunette-haired boy teased with a snicker, making Steve shoot Tommy a sharp look. His mind antagonised him as the pain began to nest behind his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"This creep was spying on us last night. He was probably saving this one for later."

Carol handed her a photo. It was grainy, slightly ruined by the fact that Jonathan hadn't developed them fully, and shrouded by the night. However, there was one thing that she managed to spot immediately: herself, in a bra, positioned in front of the bedroom window. 

The photo disappeared from her sight as Steve grabbed it, collecting the rest from the others.

"See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but that's the thing about perverts, man." He adjusted the collar of Jonathan's jacket, clinging to the 'King Steve' persona. "It's hard-wired into them. So, we'll just have to take away his toy."

The words spilt out before he had time to think. Before he knew it, he was tearing the photos apart and letting the early November breeze scatter them against the ground, digging into Jonathan's backpack once more, pulling out the so-called 'toy'.

"Steve," Nancy pleaded.

"No, please, not the camera," Jonathan begged, moving forward.

He was immediately stopped by Tommy and Liam, who forced him away. Steve watched them push him back, saying, "No, no, wait, wait...Tommy and Liam." The former guy chuckled. "It's okay."

He offered the camera out, a cruel part of him letting the camera drop as soon as Jonathan went to grab it. Nancy stared at the ground, taking in the shattered camera and the jagged edges of the torn pictures, arms crossed as she hugged herself. Jonathan swayed from side to side as he joined in on the staring. Steve, however, looked into the distance, his eyes glistening as he momentarily zoned out, shame eating away at him. 

"Come on. The game's about to start."

It wasn't long before he was sat by Nancy's side, rubbing at his temple as she zoned out in the hallway as they waited for the game. It also wasn't long before Nancy was walking away, leaving him with the others as he debated whether or not to stay or go. The deciding factor was Tommy suggesting that she'd been spooked by Steve going 'psycho on the psycho'. 

"Oh, give me a break."

The phrase was haphazardly uttered, his mind telling him that he knew he wasn't in the place to deserve a break. In a matter of moments, he'd shattered Jonathan's camera. Jonathan Byers—famously known for his lack of money and opportunity. No amount of anxiety over Rebecca could justify his actions. No amount of rage at the way he'd taken pictures of them from his backyard could justify how he went about things, taunting the boy rather than confronting him how he should've.

The King Steve persona chipped away at anything good in his life.

Ayan Dahir had never been the type to fear much. He feared things such as his romantic feelings towards a certain someone, the fact that he was gay in a small-minded community, and whether or not he had finished doing his homework. Mostly normal teenage things. He'd never been the type to fear horror. It was quite the opposite. He would always rent out the latest horror movie, writing reviews to recount to his friends. Rebecca had once suggested he should become a movie critic when they first met, and he was slowly becoming fonder of the idea.

However, not fearing horror was becoming increasingly difficult as he sat on his couch, watching some forgettable horror movie that was, in all honesty, quite shit. 

The only reason he was horrified was because he wondered if it had happened to Rebecca. A girl...a party...going home and getting chased, trying to survive. He was thankful for the sudden ring ring ring of the phone, pausing the movie and quickly getting up to answer. "Hello. This is the Dahir residence. I'm Dahir. Who's speaking?"

A familiar chuckle came from down the line, a blush springing onto Ayan's coloured cheeks. "Awh, you have a little introduction message." There was a pause as Dahir fiddled with the phone wire, trying to figure out what to say in response. "...It's Eddie, by the way—Bex's brother."

"No, no, no, I know who you are!"

"Stalker..."

There was a teasing edge in the boy's voice, but Ayan was too focused on the adrenaline coursing through him to notice. "No! I just meant..."

"Yeah, yeah, don't you worry, Ayan. I know what you meant." There was a mumbled string of sentences in the background from the other end of the line, and a worried sigh could be heard spilling from Eddie's lips. "Look, as fun as this whole greeting has been, I have another reason to call you. All of your other friends are, well, busy with stuff."

That was true. Charlotte had to be with the band for the baseball game. Finley was most likely at said baseball game, supporting his girlfriend. And Peter always spent his Wednesday nights in the library, putting in work for his upcoming SATs.

Ayan, however, spent most of his nights at home, meaning that he was the only one in the group to hear Eddie explain, "Wheeler here has tracked me down because she wants to go exploring for Rebecca. I've been enlisted. And, because you care about my sister, I'm enlisting you."

"To go on the hunt for Rebecca?"

"Yes."

"I'm in."

A meeting point was arranged and the three of them quickly met up on the road Nancy remembered Barb parking her car on, walking down the side in painfully awkward silence. Nancy was in front of the two, her arm grasping the strap of her bag as she found her way over to Barb's car, a sickening feeling eating away at her. She stared at the window of the car, looking at her reflection. The way she presented herself was well-adjusted to her lifestyle as a Wheeler, and yet on the inside, she could feel it eating away at her. That was not who she was. She was not the perfect daughter. She was the girl who'd had sex with a guy who she wasn't dating. If she hadn't done that, she would know where her two friends were.

"Are you okay?" Eddie questioned, joining her side. "Is this Barb's car."

"No, and yes."

Standing up straight, she called out, "Barb? Becca?"

No answer.

Ayan and Eddie followed her lead, yet nothing came from their attempts.

An idea sprung in Nancy's head as she moved away from the car. She turned to the two boys. "Stay here, please. I'm gonna go and check out Steve's backyard."

"Why can't we come?" Ayan questioned quietly.

"Because it's less weird if I'm the one searching his backyard."

"Only because you've slept with him," Eddie added with a shit-eating grin.

"Just...stay here and look out for if Barb comes back to her car."

He watched as Nancy walked away, hesitantly leaning against Barb's car and pulling out a packet of cigarettes—stolen from Wayne's stash. It was an unhealthy habit that his sister had told him to cut out many times, despite never really bothering to stick to healthy habits herself, smoking weed and popping pills with Steve. That turned into smoking weed by herself as she mourned the loss of whatever she'd had with him. Eddie, however, smoked weed for fun, only smoking cigarettes when he was on the brink of losing his shit. And, as he stood next to a quiet Ayan, waiting for Wheeler to return with her findings, wondering where his sister had fucked off to and desperately wishing she hadn't been unfortunate like the Byers boy, he certainly was on the edge of losing his shit.

Ayan simply just resorted to staring at Eddie, hands dropped at his side because he didn't know what to do with himself. He stumbled over his words a few times as he randomly thought to ask, "So, you're in a band?"

"Uh-huh." Eddie lit the end of his cigarette, taking a long drag. "Corroded Coffin. Bex sings. I play the guitar."

In response, he faked a small sign of surprise, raising his eyebrows as he nodded along. "Cool. I bet the, uh, ladies love that."

Eddie looked down at the ground, chuckling. Most women at The Hideout were lesbians ogling potential hookups or ignoring the music on stage. The few that did swing that way didn't matter to him. As for the ladies of Hawkins High, a very small portion paid interest in him, and even then he would simply just pretend not to notice their advances. "Nah, they don't care."

"Well..." Ayan fidgeted with the cuffs of his long-sleeved graphic shirt, refusing to make eye contact with the guy. "Uh, if it's any consolation, I'm a fan."

"A fan?" 

A nervous laugh sounded from Ayan's lips as Eddie raised his eyebrows, an obvious smirk forming on his face. "Yeah."

"Well, who knows? Maybe someday you'll get to see me play."

The conversation fizzled out after that because neither of them could think of anything else to say. Both of them were, admittedly, cursing themselves for their inability to go with the flow of the conversation. Eddie was usually fine with talking to people, only tripping over his words when it came to answering questions in class. This was a blip. 

They waited for Nancy in awkward silence.

At first, Eddie welcomed the Wheeler girl with a crooked grin. But that grin faded at the sight of her hugging herself, widened eyes full of unreadable emotions as she hurried over to the two boys, mumbling that she was going home without an explanation and ignoring Eddie's attempt at getting her attention.

Hawkins, Indiana, 10th November, 1983,

Will Byers was dead.

Everyone knew that information. News spread fast in Hawkins. The funeral was tomorrow, and Jonathan was left to sort everything out as a tired Joyce Byers refused to believe that the body found in the quarry was the body of the son. The only reason Eddie knew this news was because of last night, having watched a broken Mike Wheeler burst through the door halfway through the joint Munson-Holland discussion of their missing daughters—hosted by a solemn Karen Wheeler. The news had made Eddie's mind stir with the thoughts of what had happened to his sister, wondering if she had met a similar fate. Maybe even a more sinister one.

Neither of the Munsons had slept properly. It showed. Their faces were wrought with fatigue, their eyes sunken and their skin paler than usual. Wayne had been sent home because his boss had—uncharacteristically—decided to be kind, letting him go at the widespread news of 'Bex the Basketcase's' disappearance.

That was what most people were calling it. Eddie had heard speculations in the school halls. Some people thought that Rebecca had run away during an 'episode'. Others thought worse, suggesting that she'd decided that enough was enough, finding a quiet place after Steve's party to end it all. The sickos who viewed the subject as nothing more than gossip had thrown in the idea of her roping Barb into some sort of twisted suicide pact.

Eddie believed in none of their sick rumours. The only thing he did believe in was the fact that something terrible had happened. Whether or not it was just an accidental death, or maybe a more sinister fate. He'd seen Nancy's demeanour the previous evening, watching as she shifted uncomfortably during the discussion, tiptoeing around her words like she was walking on eggshells. Something had happened at the Harrington house, spooking her.

And now he sat across from Powell and Callahan, his uncle at his side as they enquired about how Rebecca was acting before the party. Nancy and her mom sat on two additional chairs, the older woman looking at her daughter as Nancy rolled her eyes, already knowing where they were going with this. What they were implying was obvious: Rebecca might've been in a bad state, she found herself at a party, alone with Barb, and the rest was history.

"Do you wanna go or should I?" Wayne asked quietly, messing with his facial hair.

"I'll go."

Eddie leaned forward, trying to stop the fact that his leg was bouncing at an alarming speed. He absentmindedly flicked the bottom of his lip with his tongue as he tried to think of what to say. Not many people knew that Steve and Rebecca were something, let alone just friends, so he would be outing their past to an already bothered Nancy, possibly causing some confusion or an argument. 

Oh well.

"Well...she was nervous."

"Nervous?" Callahan asked. "Why?"

"Was she having an episode?" Powell enquired, raising a brow.

Eddie was quick to shake his head, clarifying, "No, it was nothing to do with that." His eyes flitted over to Nancy before he took a deep breath. "...See, she and King Steve had a...thing. They were friends, and then they were more than friends if you catch my drift."

"They dated?" Nancy asked quietly.

"No, just...they weren't exactly platonic." He rubbed his hands together, fingers tracing over the rings on his other hand. "Long story short, he's not happy because she's been taking money from his parents to tutor him and she's constantly pulling away, and she's not happy because he's mad and she secretly hates how she acted; she'd never tell you that. They stop speaking. And then boom: Steve and Nancy are happening and she's going to his party—to his house. So, she was nervous."

Powell and Callahan exchanged a look before the former began to turn his focus on Nancy, asking about Barb—about the events of the party. It was a painfully awkward thing to witness the way Karen Wheeler looked at her 'perfect' daughter as she heard how she and Steve had gone upstairs and how Barb had wanted to leave. They questioned her on the bear that she mentioned seeing the day after and she quickly confirmed that it wasn't a bear. Eddie thought back to her contorted face and how it showed visceral fear. 

No, it certainly could not be a bear. She was too secretive the day before for it to be a bear.

"You need to check behind Steve's house..." she pleaded.

"We did. There's nothing there." 

And that was enough for them to rule out her theory that something more sinister than a bear had been at play. Nancy was quick to question the way that they said there was no bear. No car. The two teenagers looked at each other knowingly. There had been a car. 

Then, they turned their attention back to the Munsons. "Wayne..." Powell began, his gaze steely. "Has Rebecca ever thought of...exiting this world?"

"Not that I've heard of."

His reply was rough, sounding like the edges of tree bark. It was certain and yet also full of disbelief, almost as though he was shocked that they could suggest such a thing. 

"Eddie?"

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair. "My sister and I had a rough childhood, officer." He cocked his head. "I'll admit that she's thought about it a few times—not that she'd ever say it out loud. But she would never kill herself." When he saw their furrowed brows, he added, "She's always been there for me, and she'd continue being there for me for the rest of her life if she could. Suicide is not an option for her."

"How can you be sure?" Callahan asked, earning a look from his fellow officer.

He gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. The officer was quick to clarify that he meant no harm, only wanting the necessary facts to handle the case. Wayne put a hand on Eddie's shoulder, speaking for him, "He's sure because they've been through hell and back with each other. Those two know each other like the back of their hand. And I know my niece. She'd never do that." He moved his hand away from his nephew's shoulder and sat back in the uncomfortable cafeteria chair. "And she'd certainly never rope Barb into doing that."

There were a few more questions to be asked before they were allowed to leave, but Eddie did not fail to notice the way Nancy's face dropped as they said that they would still keep the idea of Rebecca Munson roping Barb into suicide as an option, not fully exploring it. Both of the high schoolers saw it as a bunch of bullshit. 

It did not take long for the two of them to settle down on a bench outside of the building, avoiding eye contact as the girl asked, "How come I never knew about this?"

He knew what she was referring to. Admittedly, she seemed less bothered about the fact that it had happened and more bothered about the fact that she had never been told about it. Eddie rubbed at his temple, ignoring the gnawing anxiety pulsing inside of him 

"It's not like they spoke in public. I mean, they had a few hangouts, but nobody ever really saw them." He shrugged. "The only people that know about the fact that they weren't just associates are me, of course, Tommy, Liam, Carol...Anyone who was in Steve's shitty group, so to speak. Oh, and Bex's little group."

Nancy fiddled with her thumbs. "Oh."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Eddie said calmly, attempting to soothe the Wheeler girl. "I don't think she was trying to hide anything from you at the time. She's not the type to talk about her love life or her friends. I only knew about you and Barb—" The name was sour on his tongue. "—when you guys had your little sleepover."

"I guess it doesn't really matter now."

Eddie nodded in agreement. There was a moment of thoughtful silence as he looked at the girl, his memory reminding him of the meeting with the police. A question placed itself on the tip of his tongue. 

"Nancy?"

"Hm?"

"The police said something about a bear...You said it wasn't a bear? Did you see something?"

Nancy thought about his question for a moment, trying to decide whether or not she should tell Eddie about the faceless monster she saw in Steve's yard. She knew it would cause more panic, possibly pushing him into even more anxiety over the situation, but he was Rebecca's brother—he deserved to know.

But she also knew that if he got himself involved, it might end up making things worse for the Munsons. So, with a disheartened look in her eyes, she forced an awkward laugh, saying, "I don't know what I saw. Probably just an animal." A lie. "I just don't think it was a bear."

She hugged herself, eyes fluttering over to Steve's parents as they, begrudgingly, exited their fancy car, walking towards the entry doors. They were recognisable faces given that she'd made sure to look at the concerningly few pictures of Steve's family that were dotted around his house. Most of the few pictures were of the couple on vacation or of the three of them at the time when Steve was younger. 

Neither of them looked pleased. Maybe Steve was right to panic at the mention of the police after all. 

When Steve had arrived home after the game—after trashing Jonathan's camera—he was not given a greeting by his father, who sat in his study, and his mother simply smiled and said that dinner wouldn't be too long, asking him if he'd had a nice day. His choked 'fine' didn't have much rebuttal, even if his face and body language screamed 'anything but fine'. He'd mulled over his actions in his room as he struggled through his English homework, secretly wishing that he could phone Rebecca and ask for help. But even if she was home, he knew she'd slam the phone down as soon as she heard his voice.

Then, he'd driven to school, still in sleep debt from Tuesday night, and had been forced to listen to Tommy and Carol talk about the rumours that Rebecca had finally lost her marbles and decided to end it all, roping her friend into it. He'd walked away halfway through the story, going to find Nancy. That was when she'd dragged him away to a private area in the school, talking to him about the police and the fact that she was being interviewed. That was when it dawned on him that he'd have to do it too, leading him to beg her not to mention the alcohol, even if it made him look like an ass. He could already picture the disappointed glares and the way his father would immediately rush to mutter the word that Steve hated the most: disappointed.

And that was exactly what he had said. Trapped in the dining room, stuck in the middle of the table, he watched as his father picked apart the steak with his knife and fork, looking over at his son with contempt. The silence was thick and suffocated the room. Meanwhile, his mother was sat opposite her husband, not bothering to look at Steve.

Clearing his throat, Mr. Harrington finished his bite. "Do you know how disappointed I am in you right now?"

Steve pursed his lips together to stop himself from biting back some remark that would only make the discussion spiral. Instead of saying anything, he nodded.

"Good." Another bite. Another agonising minute of silence. "You hosted a party. You drank alcohol. You had sex while this Nancy girl had her friends downstairs, probably waiting for you to finish with her. Because of your party, Steven, you have now ended up being involved in a potential double suicide!"

Mrs. Harrington mumbled a warning to her husband, telling him not to bring that up.

"Why shouldn't I? He's irresponsible!"

"Rebecca didn't kill herself," Steve said with certainty. "She wouldn't—"

"—That girl is reckless too! Sabotaging her money for a quick fling with you." The man took a sip of his whiskey. "I'm surprised it didn't work out between you two, considering you both like to be impulsive." A calculated pause, and then; "You should be ashamed of yourself, Steven. If you hadn't thrown your party, those two girls might be here, eating dinner with their families like you're doing now."

Holding back tears, Steve excused himself and left his nearly-finished plate on the table, not thinking as he rushed off upstairs and lay on top of his bed, staring at the ceiling as his vision became clouded by his crying. The meeting went awfully. They mentioned suicide, spoke of Rebecca's nerves before the party, and asked if Steve had noticed any off behaviour. His father's words repeated itself in his head and he was slowly falling apart as he began to believe it more and more. It was supposed to be a way to invite Nancy into his world, and, if he was lucky, make amends with Rebecca. Maybe he would've gotten to know Barb. But none of that happened. Nancy was in her own world, Rebecca hated his soul and was missing, and Barb remained elusive, disappearing with his old friend.

Hawkins, Indiana, 11th November, 1983,

The morning of Will's funeral, none of the party cried.

Not even Mike, who had spent his entire night on the night Will's body was found trying not to break down again, felt any sadness. It was impossible. Will was alive. It sprung a sense of hope in all three of the boys, and Eleven, that their friend was still out there. He was in the Upside Down. 

And if Will was in the Upside Down, then Rebecca would be too. They'd both gone missing. They were both thought to be dead. But none of them truly believed that. After all, Will was still out there, singing his favourite song. And Rebecca...

Eleven switches the channel, her eyes squeezing shut as she picks up on the signal.

A static noise...and then a breath. Shuffling footsteps. Floorboards creaking. Something flying overhead.

"Is that...?"

She responds with a nod.

"She's with Will?"

"No, not with him. In the same place as him."

Watching the funeral unfold wasn't exactly rough for any of the boys as they cracked jokes about the girl crying at Will's funeral. Some adults looked over at them, trying to hide their unapproving stares with the pity that they had, probably thinking it was a coping mechanism.

"I bet Rebecca's gonna freak when she finds out about our little secret," Lucas whispered.

"Oh, for sure," Dustin joined in. "She's gonna be all like 'Why didn't you listen to me? What happened to the plan?'."

A quiet giggle came from Lucas' mouth, making his mother warn, "Be quiet."

"Sorry."

All three of them returned to faking their solemn stares. Nancy eyed up her brother, watching as his expression swiftly changed from a smile to a frown.

Yesterday, she'd put together the torn photo of her in a bra, seeing her two friends sitting on the pool's edge together, Rebecca leaning over, probably helping Barb with her cut. Something was lurking behind them. It was that sight that had sent her over to the place where Jonathan was picking out something for Will to be buried in, proposing the idea that there was something more than a boy dying in a quarry at stake here.

Today was the day that they would investigate further.

The funeral settled down, everyone dispersing to go to the wake or offer kind words to Joyce and Lonnie. Nobody wanted that guy to be in Hawkins. But he was. He was there and he looked distraught. Jonathan didn't exactly like how easy it was for his absent dad to play the sorrowed father role, considering that it was only a few days ago that he was talking down to his son.

The game on Friday had been cancelled, along with school, leaving everyone free to do their own thing—leaving Nancy and Jonathan to hide away from everyone as they discussed the monster.

"So..." Nancy began, settling beside him on the ground near the cemetery. "How are you doing?"

Forcing a chuckle, he shrugged, pulling out a marked map. "As good as I can be after finding out my mom might've been right all along and I was just making her think she was crazy." A bitter smile followed his words. "I made this, by the way." He gestured to his marks on the map, explaining, "This is where we know for sure it's been, right?"

"So that's..."

"Steve's house." He pointed a finger at his other mark, his voice trembling as he recalled how that was the place they found Will's bike before moving his finger along. "That's my house."

"It's all so close."

"Yeah. Exactly. I mean, it's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is...it's not travelling far."

Jonathan looked at Nancy, allowing her soft gaze to embrace him. The scent of vanilla that radiated from her was the only thing keeping him sane as he thought about what could've potentially killed his brother. Knowing that his death wasn't accidental, that some evil creature had harmed him, made his stomach do flips. Nothing about the past week had been good. Hearing that the police had found Will's body created hope for the Byers until they realised that the body found was not breathing. There was no pulse. 

He had spent his entire life protecting Will from the shouting and the arguments, teaching him to be his own person—to use music to halt the negativity in his life. Now that Will was gone, what else did he have? He'd be stuck taking care of his mom. Maybe Lonnie would be there, but that seemed unlikely. It was just him and his mom now.

Nancy nodded, pulling him out of his thoughts. "You want to go out there."

"We might not find anything."

"I found something." Memories of the monster flashed through her mind. "And if we do see it...then what?"

Silence.

"We kill it."

He took her to the car, trying to undo the lock with a pocket knife. She asked him what he was doing, most likely because she was confused about why he was frantically digging the sharp end of the knife into the slit of the lock. Finally, he managed to pull the compartment down. He rifled through the belongings until he managed to find the gun, checking its ammo. Then, he picked up a box.

"Are you serious?" Nancy questioned.

"What? You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?"

As he left the car, Nancy adamantly stated, "This is a terrible idea."

"Yeah, well, it's the best we've got." His newfound friend looked away. "What? You can tell someone, but they're not gonna believe you. You know that."

She did know that. The police hadn't believed her when she'd told them it wasn't a bear that she'd seen in Steve's backyard. The only person who believed her was Jonathan, and he was suggesting that they should shoot the monster. Which, if she was being completely honest, seemed like their best shot at taking down the thing that had snatched her two best friends.

There was one person that would believe her.

"Your mom would."

"She's been through enough."

"She deserves to know."

Frustrated, he said, "Yeah, and I'll tell her...when this thing is dead."

Eddie Munson filled up his plate with the food that had been brought by the people invited to the funeral. Not everyone was invited, thankfully. There were some people—people in his classes or the hallways of Hawkins High—who pretended to panic over Will after spending their time mocking Jonathan. He thought Jonathan was a pretty cool guy until the rumours got out that he took perverted photos of Nancy Wheeler. That was something Nancy had constantly ignored, trying to avoid the questions like it was the plague.

It shocked Eddie that the two of them seemed so cosy after the funeral. He'd seen them sitting next to each other, talking and looking at something that he couldn't quite see. 

Admittedly, he was only thinking about them because it was easier than thinking about the fact that maybe he would end up in the same shitty suit he was wearing right now, saying his goodbyes to his sister as she was buried six feet under. Wayne's silent stare told him that his uncle was thinking the same thing.

The two of them watched as the kids gathered around a table with their Chemistry teacher.

The silence was broken by Wayne: "Uh, the police called this mornin'."

"Yeah?"

That wasn't unusual. At the end of their meeting yesterday, they'd promised to keep the Munson's updated. Wayne had checked with Barb's parents—they'd been interviewed towards the end of the school day—and they'd given them the same schtick, ringing in the morning with the same news.

"Yeah..." He scratched the back of his head, sighing. "They still haven't found anything."

The chuckle that Eddie did was not a happy one. It sounded sad. Dejected. "I doubt they're even trying."

"Eddie..."

"Well, it's true. Everyone thinks she's offed herself and dragged Barb into it like some sort of demented nutter."

"They'll find something soon, son."

Neither of them truly believed in those words. It was starting to feel like the two girls had disappeared off the planet. Rebecca's car, along with her friend's, was nowhere to be seen. 

It was like they had vanished into thin air.

Steve spent his entire morning in bed that day.

Not because he had nothing to do. His parents had asked him to clean his room before they'd left to do their daily activities. However, ever since his alarm had gone off, he'd found it impossible to find the motivation to drag himself from the comfort of his bed. He'd spent his entire morning staring at the ceiling, waiting for the phone to ring with good news. 

It was Will's funeral. His family hadn't received an invitation. That didn't surprise him, considering that they were only members of the community through donations to buildings. His mother also attended the rare town meetings. 

The gnawing in the pit of his stomach told him that soon he'd be receiving an invitation to Rebecca's funeral. 

In the early afternoon, he managed to roll out of bed, forcing himself under the showerhead, making sure that the temperature was freezing cold so he could shake off the grogginess. He lounged around in his towel, drying off his hair as he made sure to put all of his needed products into it. Once he was finally into some clothes that weren't his pyjamas, he cleaned his room, dusting around. Cleaning his room often felt like a nightmare until he would do it, getting into the groove with a tape of all of his favourite songs playing on his Walkman. Queen's 'Somebody To Love' played as he finished emptying the bin in his room out into the bins outside. 

Then, he found himself sitting at the island counters, forcing himself to do his History homework.

The simplicity of the day was the only thing to soothe him. Although, he would much rather be out than be crouched over his homework, writing until there was a cramp in his hand. As he shook his hand to stop the ache, the phone rang. 

He quickly jogged over to it, picking it up and greeting, "Hello, this is Steve."

"Hey, man."

"Eddie?"

"Yes, yes, it is I."

Steve hadn't been called by the Munson residence since he and Rebecca stopped talking. And, when he really thought about it, he realised that Eddie had never called him up. 

"Has something happened?" he asked, paranoia growing. "Did the police find—"

"—The police have found nothing. I just thought I'd call you with their updates."

"Right..." Steve looked down at the ground as his heart sank into his stomach. "Thank you for keeping me updated."

"Are you doing alright?"

"I feel like I should be asking you that. She's your sister, after all."

"Eh, everyone knows I feel like shit that's been left on the ground for days on end, melting away in the sun." Steve grimaced at his specific description before laughing down the line. "I've been asked how I'm doing more times than I can count, but I don't think anyone's gonna ask you that. So, how is King Steve doing?"

"Shit." There was a moment of silence as Steve debated what to say, ignoring the sting of the tears that built up in his eyes, pooling on his waterline. He didn't want to break down on the phone, but he was getting pretty damn close. His voice was shaky as he admitted, "I miss her."

"Me too."

Steve bit down on his lip to feel the sting. "I've missed her since we stopped being friends, to be honest. And as soon as she came back into my life she disappeared because of my stupid party."

"Steve, it's not your fault."

"It sure feels like it."

No wonder Steve and Rebecca used to get on like a house on fire. Just like his twin sister, Steve Harrington—the man who everyone either admired or despised—blamed himself for what went wrong around him. Eddie could still remember how his sister had acted when he confessed how he'd been bullied for months on end by some random guy in their first year of high school back in Madison, pulling him in for a hug and apologising for not protecting him. The two of them were both protectors.

Wayne mumbled a goodbye in the background as he left for work, most likely not coming back until the early hours of the morning. "Look, man, you need to get out. You can't just lay around all day and blame shit on yourself." That was hypocritical. As soon as Eddie returned from the wake, he'd changed into his pyjamas and lay in bed. Now that Wayne was gone, he planned on sitting on the couch until there was a dent in his name. He'd probably get high enough to forget about his problems while watching something that would make him laugh so that he could avoid the fact that he was on the verge of breaking down at any given second. "Find Wheeler and ask her out on a date."

He left out the part about how Nancy had befriended Jonathan, not wanting to let jealousy mesh with Steve's guilt. That would spell disaster. 

Steve looked over at his History homework before nodding. "Right," he said. "Bye, man."

So, after finishing off his homework and shooshing up his hair so that it looked less like a nest on the top of his head and more appealing, he slid on his favourite pair of Nikes and headed out of the door, making his way down the roads of Hawkins as ABBA played from the mixtape he'd made back when he and Rebecca were still close. 

It's the end of February and the bitter cold has only just gone away, leaving them with a much more tolerable cold. The two of them are sat in front of Steve's fireplace, watching the embers of the flames because the movie on the TV has finished and they don't want to acknowledge how close they are. She's so close that he can smell every hint of her shampoo. A part of him feels weird for taking in the scent of her. They are friends. Friends don't smell each other. Friends don't steal glances when the other isn't looking. Friends don't shift in closer like Rebecca does when Steve turns away from her.

The silence turns into a discussion of the film. She focuses on the clothing, talking about how it displays their growth as characters. Steve, however, focuses on the colour scheme. He isn't into movies as much as her, but he notices the little details—something Rebecca seems to admire as she compliments him for his 'attention to detail'. That's when the conversation shifts into the soundtrack.

"I love ABBA," she hums. "Eddie always laughs because he and I are both into metal and shit like that, but I swear I've seen him grooving along to 'Dancing Queen' back when I used to play it all the time in the car."

"I like 'Fernando'."

"What other music do you like?"

The question makes Steve realise that, despite the vast knowledge they have of each other's personal lives, they don't know basic facts about each other. It's weird. You'd think that spending so much time around someone would mean that you know their favourite colour, yet Steve can't recall her ever spilling such a basic fact, and he's pretty sure she can't answer the question of his favourite meal. He doesn't know her favourite song and yet he notices every small detail about her. Like the way she always

Steve pulls himself off the couch and she follows him up to his room without asking where she's going. He leads her over to a few mixtapes he's made for his Walkman. They're laid across his dresser in a messy order. After a few moments of flicking through each song on the one he hands to her, she nods approvingly.

"Now...I might be getting this wrong," she begins with a sarcastic grin already laced on her face, "but are you a Queen fan?"

"How'd you guess?" 

She removes the mixtape from the Walkman and passes it back to him before moving over to his bed and practically throwing herself on it, a soft look on her face as she asks, "What's your favourite song?"

"Probably 'Somebody To Love', or anything from Jim Croce." Steve joins her on his bed, turning on his side to look at her. "You?"

Her face twists up for a moment to think, her tongue darting out from her lips; something he'll never tire of seeing. "Honestly, I don't have a clue. Maybe something from Black Sabbath or...Scorpions...ABBA..."

"Is it 'Dancing Queen'?"

"No. You'd be surprised to hear that my favourite ABBA song is not 'Dancing Queen', but 'Slipping Through My Fingers'." Steve makes some sarcastic quip about the total shock of her reveal, earning an eye roll from Rebecca as she says, "Yeah, yeah. I'm a woman of many parts, Steve."

"Multifaceted. How intriguing."

The two of them stare at his ceiling in silence, their hands eventually lacing together as he talks about how he desperately needs a tutoring session for his next Maths test because of his position as co-captain of both the swim team and the basketball team. His grades are slipping and she's already making a slotted appointment for a 'study date' in the school library. 

"Study date, hm?" he repeats, nudging her playfully as he ignores the slight flutter in his heart. "What happened to calling them tutoring sessions?"

Snorting, she tries to play it off, saying, "I was trying to find a less formal term."

"Oh really? Because I seem to recall the word 'date' being used."

He watches as her pale cheeks are tinted with a warm colour that blossoms like a flower in spring—a beautiful sight. "Shut up," she mumbles sheepishly, reminding him of one of those girls in the romcoms they watch from time to time. He sticks his tongue out at her and she pulls her hand away from his to swat his shoulder lightly. "You're so annoying."

This is not what friends do.

Steve Harrington might be tragic when it comes to maintaining relationships, earning him his playboy status, but he isn't tragic at understanding the Art of Flirting. It's a skill that he has perfected ever since his first 'relationship' with Jenna Reeski in elementary school. He's flirted with what feels like a million chicks, taking a lot of them out on dates or inviting them to his house so that he could get them in his pool. However, as he swats her back and she rolls away from him, he feels...nervous. Butterflies flutter in his stomach and he wonders if she feels the same. 

It's almost childish.

Entirely childish.

He swallows his nerves and forces a smug smile onto his face, tapping her on her shoulder to get her attention. She looks at him with those big brown eyes that are buried under her heavy eye makeup and he swears that she bats her eyelashes momentarily. "What?"

"So...on this 'date', are we gonna get food?"

"No, Steve. We will be studying for your Maths test."

"But after...?"

"I mean, I wouldn't object to food."

"I'll pay."

"We'll split the bill." She turns on her side to face him, holding her head up with her hand. "Where will we go?"

Steve pretends to contemplate before settling on a teasing grin, wiggling his eyebrows. "Enzo's."

"That's too expensive for me."

"That's why I offered to pay."

"We're not going Enzo's. We can hit some cheap burger joint because, as I said, this is just a friendly study date."

"I don't remember you specifying that it's 'friendly'."

"We are friends."

"Yeah, best friends," he says with an element of certainty. When she nods, not seeming to disagree with the high-status label of their friendship, victory settles over his face. "See! And, as your best friend, I think it'd be pretty damn nice of me to treat you to such a nice, expensive meal for being so helpful."

Rebecca groans in defeat. "You act like I'm a saviour. All I do is tutor you."

"Exactly." He takes her free hand and rubs his thumb over her skin, offering her a gentle look. "You're always offering to help me. Like, always. I don't know why you do it, but it means a lot."

For a moment, her gaze falters. She shuffles closer to him, letting him wrap her in some form of spooning. Nothing about this seems platonic to either of them, but he ignores that thought as she hums, "Just think of it as my way of thanking you for being there for me after that Liam shit on Halloween."

It's risky how he moves in, watching as she does the same. But then, as his eyes flutter shut, he hears the sound of his cover rustling. He watches as she gets up and awkwardly murmurs an excuse on why she has to go.

"Do you want a ride?"

He follows her down the steps as she shakes her head, snorting. "No, no. I've got my brilliant new car."

Sarcasm. Her car is some cheap thing that she's bought recently. It's dusty red and in need of an upgrade.

"Oh." He follows behind her as she walks over to the front door, asking, "The Byers are paying you well, huh?"

"The pay is...pretty good."

Rebecca's confided in him before about the low pay rate that sometimes she can't accept because Joyce is in desperate need of money and she feels bad for keeping it. So he looks at her with narrow eyes for a brief second before deciding that maybe Joyce has more money to give.

They stand at the door for a moment. "So... we'll meet at the library on Saturday," he recalls her scheduled meeting with a lopsided grin, ignoring the fact that she's dashing away when he thought they were going to kiss. "Unless you want picking up?"

"Picking me up sounds so romantic," she swoons, clearly exaggerating her movements as she sways from side to side with her clasped hands, her muscles flexing underneath her skin-tight Black Sabbath shirt. Then, she laughs. "I have a car, Steve."

"Yeah, and?"

"And, thanks for the offer, but I don't need picking up."

Steve sighs heavily, prompting an eye roll from Rebecca. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Mm, see ya," she murmurs softly before going down the front yard until she got to her car, offering him a wave. 

After that day, he'd made that tape to listen to music that reminded him of her. It seemed cheesy after they'd stopped talking and he'd ended up burying it away. But now she was missing. So, he had been playing it for the past few days. Steve had always been afraid to be bold with her. Every other girl would receive his charm and he'd find no difficulty in doing so. But Rebecca was a different story. It was only on that day that he dared to test the line drawn in place of their relationship, setting foot on the romantic side and hoping to stay there. He could still remember the way his body had been swarming with nerves. 

Sighing, he stopped thinking about the bittersweet memory, not wanting to go further down the rabbit hole of his time with Rebecca. He parked his car in the Wheeler's driveway.

The sight of Nancy made him smile. For a moment, the frustrated discussion they'd had yesterday seemed nonexistent. 

He walked over to the open garage, planning out in his head how their conversation would go. He would ask her to the movies and offer to pick her up, and she would smile and say yes and they would have a normal night free of worry. 

Midway through his thoughts, he saw the bat swing in his direction as Nancy turned it around, not looking where she was going. He jerked back, saying, "Woah, woah, hey, woah, woah."

"What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing?" 

"Nothing."

"I hope that's not meant for me."

He intended the words to be flirty, looking up from the bat in her hand to meet her gaze. But Nancy was quick to defend herself, saying, "What? No. I was just..." There was a pause. "...thinking about joining softball."

"Well, uh, listen, I'm really sorry." Steve thought back to yesterday—how he had freaked out over the news of the police questioning them. His was like a livewire, nerves within him exploding and making him panic about every little thing. "I mean, even before you threatened me with the baseball bat."He moved over to the car as Nancy mumbled something that encouraged him to continue. "I panicked and...I mean, I was a total dick."

Nancy nodded along with a knowing smile. "Yeah, you were. Did you get in trouble with your parents?"

Not wanting to convey the full story, he tried to play it cool: "Totally, but, you know, who cares? Screw 'em."

In front of him, he watched Nancy's face twist into something he couldn't put his finger on. "Steve?" He nodded encouragingly. "Yesterday, Eddie told me about you and Becca."

"Oh?" His eyes widened and he quickly added, "I'm over—"

"—That's not the reason I brought it up. I just wanted to check if you're doing well."

"I'm fine," he lied. 

It slipped out before he had much chance to think about it. He'd already almost broken down to Eddie. He did not need to go through that again. So, he'd lied. It was easier than letting himself feel something. That was why he'd come here, after all.

Judging by Nancy's furrowed brow, she wasn't sold on it. "Right..."

"Hey, listen." He stepped closer, digging his hands into his pockets. "Why don't we, uh, why don't we catch a movie tonight, you know? Just kinda pretend everything's normal for a few hours. All The Right Movies is still playing." He could see the hesitation in Nancy's eyes, leading him to add, "You know, with your lover boy from Risky Business?"

Nancy's smile was something he couldn't place. "Yeah, I know."

"You know, Carol thinks I actually kinda look like him." Steve moved his head from side to side, vaguely pointing at his face. "What do you think? Huh?" Steve took the bat from her hand, lifting it to his mouth like it was his own personal microphone. "Just take those old records off the shelf." Wanting to make her laugh, he started to add more enthusiasm to his performance, moving his head around in a dramatic manner. "I'll sit and listen to them by myself!"

"I just, I...I don't think I can. I've been really busy with this whole funeral thing and with my brother. It's been really hard on him."

Admittedly, he was disappointed that his plan hadn't worked out. So much for forgetting the whole thing—for having a normal time that wasn't consisting of his head being plagued with thoughts of Rebecca. But he knew that he couldn't expect her to be free. She had her own life. And he knew that the Wheelers were close with the Byers. Rebecca had told him about the campaign she'd interrupted. She had laughed when she recalled how they practically shooed her out, asking for ten more minutes so they could finish off the moment. So, holding back a sigh, he said, "Yeah, sure. Sure, yeah, yeah."

"So..."

Nancy gently took back the bat, awkwardly looking around like she didn't know how to say what she wanted to say. He got the hint, saying, "I should go."

"Sorry. I'll call you later. Is that okay?"

He nodded and she swiftly leaned in and kissed him. "Yeah. Yeah, of course."

Dejected, he began to sing 'Old Time Rock & Roll', walking off as his stomach ate away at him. What was he going to do now? There was Eddie, but his advice made it sound like he might have made plans to distract himself and Steve didn't feel like imposing on anyone else's time. Maybe he would end up back in his empty house. 

Although, he knew who would always be free on a Friday night.

"Man," Liam began, drumming his fingers against the table in 7 Miles as they all waited for their food, "how long has it been since we last hung out? All of us?"

Carol shrugged, snuggling up against her boyfriend with a grin on her face. "Way before Stevie here ditched." 

Rolling his eyes, he feigned a smile, not wanting to defend himself. There was no point in trying to pretend like he didn't ditch them. Evading your 'friends' and never showing up to any group plans wasn't exactly a subtle way of leaving them behind. It wasn't subtle when he crawled back to Tommy and Carol, making a package deal when Liam showed up, asking for them to be friends. On that day, a bargain was made—as long as Liam didn't spread rumours about Rebecca, as long as he didn't try and talk to her, then he would talk to Liam. He would invite him to the parties that 'King Steve' was always being invited to. Everything in this stupid place seemed like a popularity game. The freaks were hated while he was crowned for simply existing. And, if he was being totally honest, he didn't want to lose that crown. It made up for his shitty grades.

"So, what's encouraged you to hang out with us?" Tommy asked, digging into his burger as the waitress placed it down. Steve smiled and mumbled a polite thank you as Carol took a fry from her boyfriend's plate and placed it into the pot of ketchup, swirling it around.

Steve shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Nothing much. Nance wasn't free so I thought it'd be nice to get out with you guys, considering that we haven't done much as a group in forever."

Not that Steve cared about that. As rude as it sounded, they were only a part of his life because, without them, he had nobody. It felt stupid to say, but outside of the group of people he'd grown up spending his time with—the group of assholes who pestered the nerds and freaks and didn't bother to care about their grades—there was nobody else but Rebecca. 

God, he needed more friends.

Liam snorted as he finished his mouthful of food. "Lil' ol' lonely Harrington."

"I'm not lonely," he deflected.

"Yeah," Tommy agreed with his stupidly wide grin. "He's got us."

"We should totally have a party with everyone else next time your parents are out of town, Steve," Carol suggested. "Actually, I'm pretty sure Tina has a free house tomorrow."

"I'm not really in the mood for partying."

Tommy rolled his eyes, tutting. "Is this about Bex the Basketcase?"

"She's not—" He cut himself off, not wanting to start an argument in the middle of 7 Miles. "...I mean, uh, yeah."

Liam shovelled fries into his mouth, rolling his eyes as he swallowed them alarmingly fast. Nothing about his demeanour seemed to care that she was missing, and he knew Rebecca long before Steve had finally spoken to her on that fateful Halloween night. "She's probably ran away," Liam speculated. "She's always been a bit—" He made a gesture to portray what he meant—that she was crazy. 

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but Tommy cut in, "Yeah, dude, she's fucking insane. I bet that the rumours are true."

"The ones about her offing herself?" Carol asked, earning nods. "Oh, for sure. She definitely got that Barb girl in on it too."

"I bet they did it while Steve here was getting his freak on," Liam joined in.

Guilt placed itself in his heart as he listened to their speculations, his mouth zipped shut as he bit back the urge to tell them off. Instead of saying anything, he stared at his half-eaten burger, his hands moving forward to grab it and take a bite. The last time he was here, it was with Rebecca. The two of them sat in the booth placed in the corner, right next to the jukebox, smiling as she stared at the lines in his hand, pretending to be a fortune teller. He missed the friendship that they'd built, even if he'd once hoped for more. But, more importantly, right now, he simply missed her. 

Frank Sinatra's 'I've Got You Under My Skin' plays quietly as she moves her finger to a faint line on Steve's palm. "You see this one?" He nods, looking at her tenderly. She's wearing his jacket because it's cold outside, her Rush shirt tucked underneath with its pasty outlined words. He can tell it's old just by the way it looks. "Well, my source tells me it stands for...for your future success."

Entertaining the thought, he enquires, "What success?"

She closes her eyes, whispering to herself as she makes a big deal of having to think of the specifics. Then, she smiles and meets his gaze. "My source has told me that your success will come in the form of your next basketball game."

"Hm," he hums, lacing his hand with hers. "And may I ask what this 'source' is?"

"My intuition, duh."

They break out into a childish fit of laughter as she continues to pretend to predict his future, his cheeks becoming warmer each time she brushes her finger against his palm.

That was two weeks before his game. It was nothing big—nothing that truly mattered. A few days after that conversation, everything had shattered into pieces, leaving him without his best friend. She had never shown up to his game, which didn't surprise him. But they had won. And, amongst the crowd of cheering supporters, there was a spot where she would've been.

They ended up staying in 7 Miles a couple of miles longer. Eventually, once they'd moved past Rebecca, things were...better. It was normal. Familiar. Then, they ended up in his BMW, the same one he'd picked them up in only mere hours ago, driving to Nancy's house because he had decided to check up on her, remembering how she'd been swinging that bat around like a maniac—how she had wanted him to leave but didn't know how to say it. Liam was sat in the passenger seat, the other two grossly kissing in the back. 

"Where are we going?" Liam asked.

"Nancy's."

Carol scoffed, leaning forward and going, "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

He watched in the rearview mirror as she rolled her eyes. "I just don't understand why we're coming out here. She obviously doesn't wanna talk to you."

When he was eating his vanilla ice cream, Steve had relayed the details of his visit to the Wheeler's house, earning some doubts from all of them. They all thought that Nancy was trying to get rid of him, which was a part of the reason why he'd decided to check up on her, wondering if she was hiding something—her emotions. Maybe she was struggling and wanted to keep it all to herself.

"That's...that's not it."

"Oh, really? Because no girl would ever blow off King Steve."

Tommy snickered and Liam added, "Yeah, totally. Except, the last time I checked, his precious Bex has been blowing him off for ages."

"That's not..." Steve drummed his fingers against the steering wheel. "That's a complicated story, man. Besides, Nancy was acting weird. I mean, something was wrong."

Carol scoffed. "So what? Like, you're worried about her?"

"What?"

"Aw, you are!" She moved forward to tap him on the chest where his heart was, cooing, "Steve has a heart!"

He pried her off his chest. "Would you just—"

"Oh, Stevie's in love!" Tommy joined in.

"Would you just shut up?"

"Who knew?" Liam taunted.

"Shut up!"

His voice resounded in the car, creating an awkward atmosphere as the rest of them sank back into their seats. All they did was taunt him for experiencing any true feelings. He didn't understand why. Sure, he was a player back in the day. But it wasn't like he was the type to ghost a girl. It just never worked out for him. 

The car stopped outside Nancy's house and Tommy teasingly said, "So this is it, huh? Princess' castle."

"I'll just be a minute."

He legged it across the Wheeler's lawn and climbed up the pipe to Nancy's bedroom window, trying to figure out what he would say to her. Why are you being so evasive? I miss Bex too, and Barb—she was nice. Do you want to talk about it? I'm here if you need me.

But then all of his thoughts stopped.

Nancy was on the edge of her bed next to Jonathan, their backs facing the window, away from Steve's sorrowed eyes. He felt his heart contract in a familiar, yet less sickly, pain. There was something familiar—betrayal. He watched as he moved something around her, his hand placement creating a sense of familiarity and trust. It was like he was watching something far more tender than whatever he and Nancy had and his heart loathed the sight.

He loathed the sight.

Loathed it.

God, he hated looking at it. While he was out wondering if she was suffering in silence, she was trying to get close to another guy. So much for wanting to be there for Mike.

They had found solace in each other, leaving Steve on the side. He climbed back down the pipe, scoffing before racing across the lawn and slipping into his car, anxiously drumming his fingers against the wheel as Carol asked, "Did she tell you to fuck off?"

"No."

"Then what's got your panties in a twist?" Tommy asked.

"Nothing."

It was a clear lie, and none of them were backing down. Liam was the next to pester him: "Come on, man. Don't be shy. Tell us."

He sighed, staring at Nancy's house before starting the car back up and driving down the road. The knot in his throat disappeared as he swallowed his pride, quietly admitting, "She was with Byers."

"Byers?" they all repeated, with Liam adding, "Cheating slut."

"What were they doing?" Carol asked.

He heard Tommy whisper into the air, "Probably fucking."

Steve shook his head defiantly. "No, but they were...they were close. He had his hand on her back."

"I can't believe Princess Wheeler would be stupid enough to screw the loner freak," Carol said as they drove towards the main area of Hawkins. The shops were all dimly lit, and the movies were displayed in bold letters—All The Right Movies. "How low of her."

He watched as the freckle-faced Tommy shook his head with the same wicked grin that he always wore. "Did you see the way she was looking at him when Stevie here broke his camera?" He mimicked the expression, cackling. "She's probably inviting him over to make it up to him if you know what I mean."

Steve did, in fact, know what he meant, a grimace forming on his face. "No way."

"Look, Steve, she stormed off the other day," Liam said.

"Yeah? And I apologised."

"While you're apologising, she's screwing Byers behind your back."

There was a pause. Then, Tommy snickered, interrupting the silence. He nodded his head at the craft shop across the street from where they were driving and Steve pulled over. "What?"

The craft shop belonged to an old couple named Saul and Rory Hatchet. They had opened it back when Steve's parents were in their final years of high school, and the business thrived. There was a small corner amongst the shelves that had fresh easels to paint on, often being used up by art students. But Steve had once gone there with Rebecca to browse the paints, trying to find something to give Will for his birthday. She'd ended up going with a watercolour palette, thanking Steve with a delicate touch of the lips on his cheek on the drive back to his. That was the middle of March. 

"Doesn't that shop have, like, spraypaint?" Carol questioned with a knowing look on her face.

Liam wiggled his brows. "I feel like we're all thinking the same thing."

Steve was not.

"We'll be back in a second, man," Liam said, unbuckling his seatbelt. "We've got the sweetest form of vengeance against Nancy."

And with that, all three of them slipped away into the dimly lit street before entering the store, leaving Steve in his car, staring at the road ahead, a slow realisation dawning on him.