There was a bagel on his desk.
Henry frowned at it for a moment, trying to make sure he wasn't finally hallucinating due to lack of sleep. But, everything stayed where it was, even when he sat down: a bagel resting on a napkin, a couple of those small disposable containers of cream cheese with a plastic knife next to them, and a coffee cup a little farther up on the desk.
Henry took a deep breath. He knew better, he really did, but he'd also woken up late and missed breakfast. Usually he'd just power through, but today his stomach was already starting to warn him that he'd feel sick by lunch unless he ate something. So, knowing full well what he was getting himself into here, he opened a cream cheese and began to spread it on the bagel.
"What do you want?" Henry asked without even looking up.
"I-I don't—why would you—" Steve turned around in his seat, stumbling over his words the entire way until his eyes widened at what he'd already basically admitted, "I mean, who? Me?"
All it took was a look and a single, unimpressed eyebrow for Steve to crumble.
"I want you to go to the Halloween party tonight."
Henry frowned even though his eyes were on the bagel; he'd honestly sort of forgotten about all that. The only reason he was even vaguely aware that it was Halloween was because his mom had been in the middle of taking pictures of Lucas in a Ghostbusters costume when he'd pressed a kiss to her cheek as he headed to his car. His mind just hadn't been on things like holidays lately. Besides, he'd thought that Steve would ask him for homework answers or something, not for him to go to a party. Why would he even care about something like that?
"I'll drive," Steve offered when Henry didn't answer right away, "I won't even drink. You can get wasted, and-and I'll make sure you get home fine."
Henry's frown deepened and he glanced up for a second to find that Steve was looking at him a little too intensely for what he was asking. There was more to this than he realized; he hadn't even said anything and Steve had sweetened the pot, shouldering all the responsibility and offering Henry a night of truly cutting loose. Steve must really, really want this, but Henry couldn't think of a reason why.
"And I know you have a Thriller jacket so don't even try to tell me you don't have a costume," Steve added, a hint of bitchiness in his voice now, but Henry didn't take that personally. Instead, he fixed him with a look and spoke simply.
"Steve."
Henry's strong voice and steady gaze worked almost instantly, and the nervous tension in Steve's frame dissipated. He sighed a little and looked away, but Henry held strong. A look and a firm word or two almost always made Steve drop whatever game he was playing and just tell the truth, and this time was no different.
"Nancy's been kind of upset lately," Steve said after a moment, his voice significantly less energetic as before, but less guarded too, "And I think that this party would be good for her. Just, being normal. But, I'm worried she might cancel or if she does go she won't—But, if you were there, I think she'd have a good time, so…"
So please go to make Nancy happy.
The rest of Steve's sentence went unsaid, but Henry didn't need to hear it to know what was coming next. Instead, he took a bite of the bagel, trying to ignore how Steve was still intently looking at him, and considered what he was asking.
He hadn't noticed Nancy acting like that recently, but then again he'd been a little wrapped up in himself lately. Besides, she probably confided in Steve a bit more than she did in him, especially if it was about—
Oh, yeah, that was definitely what this was about.
Steve must've noticed something was wrong after they had dinner with the Hollands last night, and now was appealing to Henry the morning after. He wasn't being specific about what Nancy was going through because he knew the moment he mentioned Barb or the Hollands Henry would back out and leave him to deal with this on his own.
He wasn't wrong. The bitter feeling that twisted inside Henry's stomach the second he realized that made him want to reject it on principal. The only thing keeping him from doing that was—
"I think it would be good for you too, you know."
—because it was Steve asking.
And Steve always had a way of surprising him.
"Don't think I haven't noticed," Steve continued, his gaze suddenly feeling a little too heavy, "You haven't been acting like yourself lately. It's—I'm worried about you, man."
It was quiet for a long moment after that.
It was clear that the more seconds ticked by, the more Steve second guessed what he'd just said. His face slowly turned pinker and pinker and his eyes began to dart around the room as the nerves that had just been dispelled made their reappearance. But, the reason Henry was quiet wasn't because he was upset by what he'd just heard or a line had been crossed or anything. It was because… Well…
Maybe it was because he was once again caught off-guard by how perceptive Steve could be. He should be used to it by now—he should expect Steve to know a little bit more than what everyone thought he should— but still, he was surprised.
Or, maybe Henry wasn't thrown off by the fact that Steve was observant enough to realize something was wrong, but rather that he cared enough to notice in the first place. That he cared enough to be worried. That he cared enough about him.
Or, maybe…
Maybe it wasn't any of those things.
"Heh, listen—"
"I'll go."
Henry cut off whatever awkward backtracking he was about to stutter out, and Steve stared at him with a blank, wide-eyed look for a few seconds, like he'd spoken those words in a language he'd never even heard of. The silence lasted for a moment too long, but Henry didn't mind. In fact, he couldn't help but feel a sort of sick pride that he'd managed to throw Steve off as much as he regularly did to him.
"Wh-What?" Steve finally managed, blinking hard a few times.
"I said," Henry's lip twitched up a little, "I'll go."
"Really?" Steve replied, sounding like he didn't quite believe what was happening, and Henry couldn't stop the small smile that took over his expression.
"Don't give me a chance to change my mind, man."
Steve's face split into a wide grin and Henry took a bite of his bagel in the hope that it would somehow tamp down the rush of butterflies in his stomach. It was almost worth agreeing to go to a party he'd really rather not attend just to be the reason Steve's expression lit up like that.
But, that wasn't the reason he'd said yes.
He hadn't said yes because of Steve's smile or his perceptiveness. In fact, it really had nothing to do with Steve, and everything to do with something that had been rattling around his head ever since he'd heard it yesterday. Something that he'd realized had to be applied across the board if he wanted to use it to excuse away everything that he'd been experiencing for the last week.
Something that had to affect Nancy just as much as it affected him.
"We're all on edge."
-.
There was, of course, a selfish part of Henry that hoped it just wouldn't work out. That things wouldn't come together and that he'd end up staying home after all. But, of course, the one time he didn't want to go to a party, the universe made it as easy as possible for him to get there.
His parents had told him that they hoped he had fun, Joyce did not call to tell him that Jonathan had changed his mind about not going out and if he could please chaperone Will around trick or treating, and Nancy… Nancy had smiled and said that Henry joining them was great.
Like there wasn't tension hanging there between them.
Regardless of how they smiled and chatted, it was there. Heavy and bitter. They could try to force past it, but it would stay no matter what. Holding them both by their throats. Almost as if Barb's ghost was trailing after them, unwilling to let them know peace.
That was almost an appropriately spooky thought for the day.
Too bad in reality it was weighed down by horrible trauma and intense grief.
The party was in full swing by the time the three of them arrived, and Henry took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for being around far too many sloppy teenagers.
"You okay?" Nancy asked, and he turned to see that she was looking at him with an expression far more serious than most people would have on the lawn of a raging Halloween party. It was just the two of them, Steve had left them out front as he looked for a place to park on the street lined with cars, and neither one needed to put up a front to keep him happy.
"I don't know if I can do this tonight," Henry answered honestly, Nancy nodding a little.
"Me neither," she replied, and the pair shared a long look of commiseration, "Maybe it'll be easier if we have some drinks."
"That…" Henry frowned a little as he considered her words. Intellectually, he knew that drowning your problems with alcohol was a bad idea. But, he knew that dealing with your anxieties with tobacco was also a bad idea and that had never stopped him before, because it usually did help, "That's not a bad idea."
Nancy smiled a little and he returned it with one of his own, and it was almost as if there was nothing hanging between them.
Almost.
"Ready?" Steve asked as he walked up to them, and Nancy and Henry exchanged a look.
"Yeah," Henry replied, lying for them both, and when Nancy smiled a little bit more, it was only partially fake. Steve grinned, easily pleased, and threw his arm around Nancy as the three of them passed the stragglers out on the front lawn and headed into the party.
Maybe, Henry thought as they finally set foot in Tina's packed living room, maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad, so long as he had a drink and his friends. Maybe he could power through it with minimal horrible feelings. Maybe… Maybe if he got through these next few hours, he would be okay in the long run.
"Harrington!"
Hearing his friend's name wasn't that weird—Steve was popular, or used to be at least—what was surprising was the harsh tone. They'd been here for ten seconds, who was already looking for a fight?
Billy Hargrove.
Sure, Tommy H had been the one to yell, and a few other boys were flanking him, but there was no question of who was in charge here. Who had his sights set on Steve.
Hargrove's glare was heavy, and Henry wondered what exactly had happened to make him feel so intensely about Steve. There were plenty of possible reasons, Henry supposed; if he was hanging out with Tommy, then he'd likely heard only awful things about Steve, and failing that, it wouldn't be all that surprising that the new guy wanted to take a shot at the would-be King of Hawkins High.
But, there was a part of Henry that hoped it wasn't because of any of that, and that instead, he was just cruel to people he didn't know for no reason at all.
Hargrove's eyes slid over to where Henry was standing beside Steve, and the gleam in them changed to something that he couldn't quite put words to, but made him burn under his skin. Just as quickly, he was back to focusing on Steve, almost like… like Henry wasn't worth his time. And that little bit of hope that he was holding onto that this was all unmotivated disappeared.
Billy Hargrove clearly had his reasons behind what he was doing, and Henry was starting to think that the problem he had with Steve was a whole lot different than the one he had with him.
Suddenly, Henry wanted to be very far away from here, and he cursed that he'd let Steve drive him. If he had his Cutlass, he could be on the other side of town before this confrontation was over. He already kind of didn't want to be at this stupid party, and now… Now he really didn't want to be here. But, he didn't have much of a choice. He wasn't about to call his mommy to come pick him up.
A drink. He could really use a drink.
While Steve and Hargrove kept up their staring contest, Henry stepped back a little; ducking behind Steve and into the crowd in the direction of the kitchen. He was vaguely aware of a presence behind him, but he didn't feel too worried about that. His mind was already preoccupied with the counter littered with drinks.
Henry grabbed a cup and filled it up to the brim with whatever was in the punch bowl; not taking a single step away before he slugged it. He'd long ago gotten good at chugging, mostly because he usually disliked whatever concoctions his classmates came up with, and he put his talent to good use.
"Do you even know what's in that?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow as he lowered the now empty cup and shrugged.
"Pure fuel!" One of their classmates interjected, who'd clearly already had more than his fair share of the punch, "Pure! Fuel!"
The pair exchanged a look for a moment before Nancy reached for one of the cups, and even though Henry had already downed one, he refilled; the two of them knocking their cups together with a sort of grim commiseration and throwing them back.
"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa," Steve said, finally joining them in the kitchen—which Henry assumed meant that whatever had happened with Hargrove hadn't escalated—and tripping over his words as he noticed what they were doing, "Take it easy, you two. Take it easy."
"I thought I could drink as much as I wanted," Henry retorted, wiping his mouth on his sleeve before going in for another helping; he was starting to feel it, it was starting to drown out the awful feelings that had driven him to the kitchen in the first place, and he wanted to make sure that there was no chance of any more slipping through tonight.
"Yeah, but…" Steve muttered, frowning as he watched Henry swallow down even more alcohol.
"We're being stupid teenagers, wasn't that the deal?" Nancy interjected, going in for a little more before throwing her cup aside and grabbing Henry's hand, "C'mon, dance with me."
Henry could feel how Steve levelled a concerned gaze on them, but he didn't look back, and instead allowed Nancy to tug him along after her; the pair getting lost together in the throng of people all under the influence of alcohol and Mötley Crüe.
That was the last clear memory Henry had from that night.
-.
Steve didn't know what had been going on lately, but he could tell that things weren't quite right.
Steve sighed a little and leaned his head back against the wall, but his eyes never strayed from the pair on the dancefloor. It wasn't just that he was on the outskirts of this rager instead of being in the thick of it. Actually, the fact that he wasn't partying like he always did on Halloween was the least of the weirdness.
Jonathan was obviously nervous about something, even though never in a million years would he admit that to Steve, Nancy had been acting strange about Barb, saying things about the Hollands and the truth that put Steve on edge, and Henry—Hell, Henry looked like he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a week. He didn't know where this was all coming from, no one would give him a straight answer when he asked; always sidestepping and coming up with excuses he knew were bullshit.
And maybe…
Maybe it wouldn't have been so bad that they were shutting him out if it weren't for the fact that Nancy and Henry weren't talking to each other either.
Steve knew they kept secrets from him, that there were some things they only talked about with each other—and maybe Jonathan—that he wasn't in the loop for. It didn't bother him that much, he knew that they'd gone through things together last year that he hadn't been there for (and he cursed at himself for that whenever he thought about it). What was worrying him was the way Nancy and Henry were acting when it came to the Hollands.
He told Nancy, he told her, that going to have dinner with them was a bad idea. It wasn't going to be good for her and it was really not cool to do that to Henry after what that reporter had said. And yeah, Nancy had agreed that it was terrible, but she still wanted to see them.
Part of Steve understood: she'd known them since childhood, she'd been best friends with their daughter, the one they didn't even know they should be mourning, and she felt some amount of responsibility for the whole thing, but at the same time…
The look on Henry's face when he'd told them that the Hollands thought he had something to do with Barb's disappearance.
That had been…
Christ.
The one and only reason Steve had agreed to go was because Nancy was his girlfriend, and he was supposed to support her.
No matter that it killed him a little to do that to Henry.
Steve just… He cared about both of them a lot. Differently, of course, but still a lot, and he didn't like to see them struggling. Especially not alone. That's why he'd convinced them both to go to this party, he'd just hoped that would be enough for them to cut loose and not be so tense with each other.
Well, they'd cut loose, Steve thought to himself as he watched Henry dip Nancy before pulling her upright against his chest, and there certainly wasn't any more tension between them.
That might just be because of the alcohol they'd both chugged the second they stepped foot in this place, though.
He knew that would upset most guys—their girlfriends dancing like that with their guy friends—but Steve really didn't have a problem with it. He knew a lot could change in a year, but he still believed what Henry had said about there being nothing between him and Nancy was true. They were close, but they weren't like that.
And if Steve felt something a little funny in his stomach as he watched them and the way they moved together on the dancefloor, it was only some part of his caveman brain pointing out that Henry could be a romantic threat if he wanted to.
Because he could be. Steve knew that. It was blatantly obvious. Henry was handsome, like real handsome; could fit right in on MTV handsome. He saw Henry nearly every day, and on a regular basis he'd feel like he was falling behind a little in the looks department by comparison. He'd worn this red sweater to school a week ago and Steve had internally debated going home to change because he'd felt frumpy next to him. Him. Steve Harrington. That's how good looking Henry was.
But, it wasn't just surface stuff. Henry was also charming, and kind, and brave, and sweet, and smart, and strong, and the list would go on forever if you let it. He was the total package. More than, really. He was like the ultimate fantasy guy that girls dreamed about. And yeah, he was sometimes a little moody (bitchy) and maybe a little closed off, but that was nothing compared to all the positives.
The only explanation Steve had come up with to why Henry was single was that it was by choice. For whatever reason, Henry chose not to have a girlfriend. And, even though it baffled Steve, it was probably a good thing for him and the rest of the male population of Hawkins. At least, he felt like it was a good thing.
Because the second Henry decided he did want a girl, it was pretty much over for anyone else interested in her. It didn't matter if she was single, in a relationship, hell, she could be dating that douchebag Hargrove that all the girls thought was so hot; if Henry was into her, and actually tried to get her, there was no way she wouldn't fall for him. It was impossible not to.
He just hoped that whoever it was that finally caught Henry's eye knew that she was very special, she had to be, because honestly, as he watched him move on the dancefloor…
Steve was completely certain that Henry could have anyone he wanted.
-.
Jonathan had never in his life been to a party.
It was by choice (he told himself). He'd always known that it just wasn't for him. He had difficulty putting up with his peers at school, where they were at least a little restrained, he couldn't imagine he'd enjoy being around them when all their inhibitions were lowered from lack of adult supervision and alcohol.
And yet, here he was, at a Halloween rager.
There were a lot of people, all closely packed together, and he doubted a single one was sober. Music pumped through the house, loud enough to be clearly audible over the insane noise caused by all these teenagers, and he grimaced a little at the song choice. Although, he allowed that any of his preferred music probably wouldn't go so well with the current situation.
He thought of his quiet house, of the Talking Heads and Vonnegut, and he felt a strong desire to leave.
But, that's why he was here, wasn't it? Because of the girl who'd said that? And he knew it was stupid to do something he didn't want to just to see a girl who had a boyfriend, but he couldn't help himself. No matter how bad of an idea he knew it was.
He couldn't even see her.
Jonathan scanned the crowd, hoping to see Nancy or maybe even Steve's stupid hair (it certainly stuck up higher than most things), but during his quick look over all he saw were sloppy teens he recognized from the school halls but never spoke to. He sighed a little, recognizing all over again how ridiculous he was being, and considered just bailing now.
"Jonathan?"
The very last thing he'd been expecting was to hear his name, but when he turned, he realized that it wasn't odd at all.
Henry stood a few feet away from him, wearing a red jacket with the sleeves pushed up and a wide smile, and Jonathan wondered if he was swaying to the rhythm of the music or because of something else.
"I thought you'weren't gonna come."
And just like that, Jonathan was certain the way he was standing had nothing to do with the KISS song blasting on the speakers.
Jonathan had seen Henry buzzed a few times, always at his house, usually after he'd just finished babysitting Will and had decided to stick around for a while with him. But, that had just been a little, from beer that Bob left behind in their fridge that his mom would pretend didn't go missing (she was just happy he wanted to do something with a friend). This though, this was something he'd never seen before. Because from the way Henry's words had run together and the unrestrained smile on his face, it was pretty obvious that he'd had a lot more than a can or two of beer.
"Yeah, I just thought…" Jonathan trailed off and shrugged a little, not entirely certain how to respond to this. The only experience he had with someone close to him being this blatantly drunk was his dad and that—
Jonathan knew that didn't matter here. He knew that Henry was the farthest a person could be from Lonnie, and he knew that would still be true when he was drunk. He had to ignore that kid in him that was always scared of anything even remotely related to his dad, because he knew better.
Henry didn't comment on the silence, maybe didn't even really notice it, and he looked at Jonathan with his brow furrowed like he was trying very hard to use his brain right now.
"Watabout Will?"
Jonathan smiled a little, couldn't help himself.
Yeah, nothing like Lonnie.
"He wanted to go on his own," Jonathan said, knowing he probably shouldn't admit this but also feeling like he didn't have much of a choice (also, he wasn't certain Henry would even remember this tomorrow), "He's with the other boys, he'll be okay."
Henry was quiet, and for a brief second, the strangest look darkened his expression.
Jonathan had no idea what it was, he couldn't think of a word that even came close to describing what he was seeing. A funny light in his eyes, an odd downturn of his lips, a shadow over everything, all things that Jonathan had never seen on his friend's face before. Things he'd never seen on anyone's face.
"Yeah, maybe," Henry muttered, and it was like he hadn't had a drop of alcohol; his diction as clear as it ever was. Jonathan didn't say anything, he wasn't sure what to say, and he suddenly realized that he felt more uncomfortable around Henry right now than he ever had in his entire time of knowing him.
Then, just like that, it was gone.
"Y'know, there's drinks over there. If ya want," Henry said, his words slurring and his expression the picture of drunk helpfulness.
Jonathan was silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. It was like whatever switch that had flipped before had gone back, and there had never been anything strange at all. He didn't have much of a choice other than to just brush it off though, so he did just that; he'd never seen Henry this drunk before, maybe this is just what it was like with him. He'd always been kind of prone to mood swings—going back and forth between cheerful and sulky fast enough to give you whiplash—and he supposed alcohol just made it worse.
He chose to ignore the fact he'd never seen Henry look quite like that.
"Thanks," he said instead, glancing over at the kitchen full of things he wouldn't touch before going back to Henry, "How many have you had?"
"As-tro-nom-ical."
Jonathan couldn't keep the smile off his face at that; Henry had deliberately said each syllable, clearly trying to keep himself from running them together, but he hadn't considered how it didn't quite fit the question.
"Hey, you're not planning on driving home tonight, are you?" Jonathan asked, that hint of concern for his friend's wellbeing lifting the moment Henry shook his head.
"Steve drove."
Jonathan raised an eyebrow at that, but Henry was too far gone to notice. If he'd been sober, he would've seen that expression and gotten defensive, would've asked him what the look was about, and Jonathan would've shrugged. Said it didn't mean anything, it was just his face. Pretended like he didn't know that his friend had a soft spot in him for Steve Harrington.
He didn't hold it against him. If this was another universe, he could sort of see it. They got along well and had a lot of shared interest in things that Jonathan thought were stupid and pointless. Don't get him wrong, Henry could do better, way better, but he could see it just the same. They'd probably even be good together.
But, they were in this universe, and Henry's feelings for Steve were as useless as Jonathan's for Nancy.
So, yeah, he pretended like he hadn't noticed, mostly because he figured that would make it hurt less for Henry in the long run.
"Henry!"
Jonathan looked towards that voice and his eyes landed on a girl on the other side of the party in a Madonna costume. She waved at Henry energetically for him to follow her, and when he nodded, she grinned and ducked out the back patio door.
"I gotta go," Henry said, and Jonathan considered asking for a moment before he decided it was probably better not to and instead just nodded, "See ya later!"
"Yeah, see you," Jonathan said, significantly less energetic. It wasn't the first time he wished he could be like Henry, good with people to the point that they want to have you around, but he certainly felt it stronger now than he ever had. He didn't even know that girl dressed as Madonna's name.
"Oh! Uh, Nancy's over there," Henry said, pointing into the crowd and Jonathan following his gesture to land right on the girl in question; dancing to the music next to Steve. Jonathan felt a pang in his chest as he looked at them, and he remembered once again how stupid this all was, "So, if you wanna talk to her oooor make out or something, she's there."
"Wait, what?!" Jonathan demanded, but he never got an explanation for that, because Henry had already dipped back into the crowd, headed in the direction of the back door.
-.
"It's bullshit. Bullshit. No, you. You're bullshit. You're pretending like everything is okay. You know, like we didn't... like we didn't kill Barb. Like, it's great. Like, we're in love and we're partying. Yeah, let's party, huh? Party. We're partying. This is bullshit. It's bullshit."
"It's bullshit."
Steve hurried towards the door without a thought for the people he shoved past. He needed to get out of here, he needed to not be stuck in this tiny house with every single person he went to school with, he needed to some fresh air, he needed—he—
He needed his girlfriend to have never said that what they had between them was bullshit.
The cold autumn air was like a slap after being in a hot, humid house surrounded by people, but it was exactly what Steve needed. He took a few gulping breaths and looked up at the dark night sky, trying desperately to stave off the heat growing behind his eyes. Later, in his own room, but not now. Not here.
"Steve?"
Steve whipped around, quickly running his sleeve over his face to catch anything that had slipped past his defenses, and was surprised to find that the person who'd said his name on the front lawn of Tina's Halloween party was Jonathan. But, a welcome surprise, because out of all the people in their school, he was like, the second best person to catch him like this right now.
"Are you okay?" He asked, clearly concerned.
"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I'm fine, totally fine," Steve replied, the words falling out of him too fast and all jumbled, and he ran a shaking hand through his hair while Jonathan looked at him like he didn't believe what he was saying at all.
"Um, is Nancy okay?" He finally asked, a hysterical laugh forcing past Steve's lips before he could stop it, which certainly didn't seem to reassure Jonathan.
"Yeah, she's fine. Great. Drunk. Very, very drunk," Steve said, his mind running a mile a minute before it occurred to him who was standing in front of him; someone he trusted, "Actually, um, do-do you think you could drive her home and-and make sure she gets in okay? Because she's in the bathroom and she, she is not good, and I don't think I can."
He could tell that Jonathan was worrying more and more with each passing second, but he couldn't even begin to think of a way to reassure him. It didn't matter though, because Jonathan nodded after a moment.
"Yeah, of course," he murmured, glancing back towards the party before turning to Steve again, "I'll get Henry home too."
A jolt hit Steve when he realized that he'd completely forgotten about Henry.
He'd lost track of him around the time Nancy had gotten tired of dancing with him—he'd figured that Henry was a big boy who could handle himself, even with a few drinks in his system, and hadn't worried too much about it. Then Nancy had kept drinking more and more, and Steve had just been trying to rein her in, and one way or another, Henry had slipped his mind.
He should take Jonathan up on that, let him deal with two ridiculously drunk people so he could head home and even begin to process what had just happened. But, he couldn't bring himself to tell him yes. Because, he'd just realized that if he couldn't go back in time and live in a version of this world where Nancy hadn't said that their relationship was all bullshit, then what he needed was a lot more attainable.
Henry.
-.
Jonathan had said that the last he saw, Henry had been headed to the backyard with a girl dressed like Madonna, and while Steve trekked around the side of the house (he'd be damned if he went back in there), he swallowed down a lump in his throat. Henry was single by choice, yeah, but that didn't mean he couldn't get up to other things. He'd had plenty of dance partners after Nancy had bailed on him, and seemingly he'd come back here to do something with one of them.
Something that Steve was going to break up.
There were a good amount of people out back, and it seemed a lot calmer than it had been inside. There were just pockets of people talking and sitting together, and a part of Steve mourned the kind of party that could've been if he, Nancy, and Henry had spent their time out here instead of getting wasted in close quarters.
He scanned the backyard, but it wasn't until he heard something familiar did he have any idea of where to look. There was a group sitting on the grass next to the house, and even though he couldn't see him, Steve knew Henry's laugh well enough to know that he was with them.
Sure enough, as he neared the little gathering, he finally laid eyes on the man he'd been looking for.
"Hey, Steve," Henry said, and even though he smiled wide and sounded genuinely pleased to see him, Steve barely registered it. Not because his mind was full of what Nancy had said, or because his heart was breaking in two (although, yes those things were happening), but because…
Because Henry was lying on the ground with his head resting on Madonna's lap.
It was Melissa Adams, the one in the Madonna costume.
Steve had always hated her.
He hadn't realized that until just now, never really thought about her except in passing, but he hated Melissa. She was the worst. He hated the way she smiled, the way she laughed, all of it. He fucking hated her, and Henry was cozying right up to her when he should be paying attention to him. Because Steve was his friend, and he'd just had his heart broken; friends supported each other when things were going badly for one of them, they don't just—just—
"Henry, we're leaving, let's go," Steve said, his voice coming out harsher than it probably should have. Henry pouted, but he wasn't alone in whining out in protest; a few other people in their little circle complained too, including fucking Melissa. But, before Steve could snap at all of them—undeservedly, he could admit that, except for Melissa, she deserved it—Henry piped up.
"C'mon, Steve," he said, his voice soft, like it was only meant to be heard by the two of them, and his smile as sweet as honey, "Come smoke with me."
And for a brief moment, Steve was tempted to do just that.
He didn't even want to smoke, but he considered sitting right down next to Henry and sharing a joint. Something about the way Henry had said that, or maybe the way he was looking at him, had made it like nothing bad had happened at all. He completely forgot about why he wanted to leave in the first place, for one brief moment everything that had happened in the bathroom was erased from his mind.
But, just as quickly, it was back; Nancy had said their entire relationship was bullshit and Henry had his head on Melissa Adams' lap.
"Come on," Steve muttered, grabbing Henry's wrist and yanking him up.
"Owww-Uh!" Henry whined, pretty dramatically in Steve's opinion, but didn't resist as he pulled him around the house and through the front yard. He felt Henry stumble a little as they went, but he didn't slow, because his eyes had just landed on his car parked down the street and it felt like a life preserver.
"I's hard t'walk," Henry mumbled, Steve unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes as they finally came up on his car.
"Because you drank too much," he replied, digging in his pockets for his keys, and it was quiet for a moment before Henry giggled.
"Oh, yeah," he said, sounding mighty proud of himself, and as memories of Nancy and Henry downing drinks like there was no tomorrow flooded his head, Steve couldn't stop himself from snapping.
"Would you just get in the goddamn car?!"
They were far enough from the party that any sounds from it were muffled, and for a moment it was that uncomfortable type of silence that followed someone yelling that Steve was so accustomed to. He rubbed his hand over his face, not feeling any better after letting out that little bit of the bad feelings he was holding inside, before he lifted his eyes back to the man that stood on the other side of the car and felt his stomach sink at the sight that greeted him. That pleased expression that had been so apparent not moments ago had slipped away, and had been replaced with wide eyes and a sad little frown.
"Why're you mad at me?" Henry said, his voice quiet, "I didn't-I don't like it."
Steve felt guilt lodge in his throat and he took a deep breath. He wasn't being fair, he knew that. He was upset about other things and he was taking it out on someone who didn't do anything wrong. Just because he wanted the Henry who'd comfort and help him didn't mean he was owed that. Henry didn't owe him a thing. Henry didn't have to make him feel better, and he… he didn't have to keep away from Melissa Adams.
"I'm sorry, I…" Steve ran a hand over his face, "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just…"
"Wha's wrong?" Henry asked, and the words came out all slurred together, but Steve felt something warm in him that he'd noticed despite the state he was in.
"Just get in the car," he said, much gentler this time, "Please."
Henry nodded, and Steve breathed a sigh of relief when he got into the passenger seat. He stayed outside for a moment longer, giving himself a second of calm, before he ducked inside.
It was quiet as he started the car and pulled out onto the road, and it stayed that way long enough for Steve to begin to wonder if maybe Henry had already forgotten what they'd just been talking about. He didn't look like he was waiting for him to explain that burst of anger or why he seemed upset. Instead, he was lounging back in his seat and rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child—the night clearly catching up with him—and it was only after a bit of silence did he seem to notice something was off.
"Where's Nancy?" Henry asked, frowning a little and looking in the backseat like he thought he'd managed to miss her. Steve had to take a moment before he replied; just hearing her name was like a knife in his chest.
"Jonathan's taking her home."
"Thas bold," Henry replied, and Steve frowned a little.
"What are you talking about?" He asked, glancing over at Henry, who suddenly seemed to realize who he was talking to and looked spectacularly caught out.
"Oh, nothin'," he said, not sounding at all convincing, and Steve took a deep, steadying breath; getting his feelings under control before he spoke next.
"Does Jonathan have a thing for Nancy?" Steve asked, but when Henry hummed noncommittally—clearly not wanting to answer that question, which was an answer all its own—he couldn't help how his voice came out a tad harsher, "Henry. Is she safe with him? Is he going to be a creep and try to take advantage that she's drunk?"
"No, no, no, Jonathan wouldn't-wouldn't do that," Henry said, shaking his head vigorously, and even though Steve knew Henry wasn't in his right mind, he could tell that this was a judgement that he'd made sober and his drunk self was just parroting it, "Not t'any girl. He's sweet. Makes pancakes."
Steve didn't ask what he'd meant by that last bit—Henry's mind clearly went off on some inexplicable tangent—and instead allowed himself to feel a scrap of relief that his trust hadn't been misplaced. But, now that he wasn't worried about Nancy, the fact that Jonathan had feelings for her really began to register.
He'd already kind of known. Jonathan liked about two people in this world that weren't his family (Steve knew he tolerated him at best), and Nancy was one of them. It wasn't a stretch to think that he'd been carrying a torch since last year. And that hadn't really bothered Steve, because he figured that it didn't matter what someone else's feelings were. So long Jonathan was respectful, it didn't really affect them. People could have crushes on her all day and it wouldn't matter; Nancy was his girlfriend.
But, now…
"Well, I hope he's a better boyfriend than I was," Steve spat out, not even thinking of the person who sat in his passenger seat.
"Why…" Henry muttered, sounding very confused, "What's goin' on?"
Steve sighed, already feeling that heat that had hit him so hard begin to dissipate, leaving him cold and sad once again. He sent a sideways look to his right, and found that Henry was frowning at him, like he was genuinely worried; impressive from someone who was probably fighting going cross-eyed right now.
He knew that he wouldn't get the response he wanted if he told Henry right now. Tomorrow morning (or maybe afternoon, he didn't think he'd be doing too good in the morning) would be better; Henry would have a clear head and would actually be able to understand, and sympathize, and maybe even give him some of that dose of truth he always managed to find. But, even though he knew that was rational, the words were bubbling over. He'd grabbed Henry because he needed to talk to him, and honestly at this point, he didn't care if he was wasted.
Besides, he'd probably end up telling him it all again tomorrow—Steve really doubted Henry would remember much of this night.
"Nancy said that everything is bullshit. That I'm bullshit because I'm pretending that everything is normal. That I'm pretending like we didn't k—"
Even though Steve was ranting at this point and all of these painful words were tumbling out, he still cut himself off before he could finish that thought. Henry didn't need to hear that Nancy had said that, drunk or sober. It would only hurt. So, Steve would keep that one to himself; pushing past those harsh words to the ones he needed to say. The ones he needed Henry to hear.
"She said we've been pretending to be in love. That's bullshit too."
His voice caught on the word love. Just thinking about it was enough to send him into a spiral, but repeating it…Any experience that Steve had thought was heartbreak was nothing in comparison to this. Outside of last year, he'd never felt worse than right now.
Henry snorted.
"Fucking idiot."
Steve hit the brakes hard and whipped around in his seat, levelling Henry with a scorching glare.
"What is that supposed to mean?!" He yelled, his voice filling up the small car to the point of unbearableness.
"That hurt," Henry muttered with a sad little frown, like he hadn't said what he'd just said, and he rubbed at the place his shoulder had slammed against the seatbelt.
"Hey!" Steve shouted, snapping his fingers a few times and getting Henry's attention back on him, "You knew that Nancy was pretending to be in love with me, is that it? She told you and you kept it from me?! And now you're calling me an idiot for not realizing the girl I love was lying to me?!"
"No," Henry said, looking at him like he was a dumbass, which Steve guessed he knew was the case because he'd just said it, "Nancy didn't-didn't tell me anything. And I didn't call you a idiot."
"You just did!" Steve replied, feeling like he was losing it now, and promising himself to never try to talk to another drunk person as long as he lived.
Henry gave him another look like he couldn't believe how dumb he was being, and for a millisecond Steve considered making him walk home.
"Nancy," Henry said slowly, and Steve wasn't sure if he was speaking like that because he thought he was talking to a child who needed it spelled out for him or because it was the only way he could get his words out without getting tongue tied right now, "Is. A fucking idiot."
It was quiet for a long moment as those words sunk in.
Steve had known that sober Henry would at least be sympathetic to how he was feeling, that he'd even probably agree that what Nancy had drunkenly blurted out was hurtful, but even with a few drinks in his system, he'd never thought…
He'd never thought he'd say something like that.
"She'ssstupid," Henry continued, casually insulting Nancy while he rubbed his eyes sleepily, "If I—I-I wouldn't—"
Whatever Henry was going to say next was cut off by a yawn, and Steve felt a momentary stab of guilt that he was putting this all on him while he was drunk and exhausted. But, before he could really dwell on that, Henry once again made it so that any and all emotions that Steve felt were drowned out by shock.
He put his head on his shoulder.
Steve froze as Henry adjusted so he was comfortably leaning against him, and he heard him mutter something as he did it, but he couldn't distinguish any part of the garbled together sentence other than "Nancy" and maybe the word "better." Then, he was still and his breathing evened out.
Just like that, Henry was asleep.
Steve was still motionless, like if he twitched even the slightest bit, Henry would jerk awake, even though he was pretty certain that an earthquake wouldn't pull him out of this nap. Exhaustion and alcohol had caught up with him, and even though they were sitting in a car, Steve was pretty sure that he was dead asleep. He didn't need to worry about accidentally waking him up.
Steve didn't know why he was so worried about accidentally waking him up, though.
He probably should wake him up, and keep him conscious until they got to his house. Because he already was going to struggle to get him inside when he was just drunk, let alone sleepy. Or, he should at least push him off; if Henry insisted on sleeping, then he'd have to do it with his head on the seat because Steve had to, you know, drive the car.
But, he didn't do any of those things.
Instead, Steve's foot lifted off of the brake and found the gas; the car beginning to make its way down the dark streets once again. But, it was slow going—the stops and turns all taken gently—just so the guy halfway out of the passenger seat would stay asleep.
-.
The car was quiet for the rest of the drive, but that was nothing compared to the silence once Steve parked it next to the curb in front of Henry's house and turned it off. It was late, the neighborhood was dark, and most of the kids had returned home with their spoils.
Steve took a deep breath, barely doing anything to disrupt the quiet, and looked over to Henry. He was still fast asleep, with his cheek squished against his shoulder and a peaceful expression on his face. He looked younger like this. He knew that was weird, Henry was relatively very young, but there was always a hint of maturity to him that made Steve jealous, like he understood things better than most people. Like he understood himself better than most people.
But, that went hand-in-hand with the fact that he was always carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, always worried about someone else. That, Steve understood a little bit more, and didn't envy. He guessed it came with the territory; after everything they'd all been through, being anxious wasn't that strange. He just wished that he wouldn't let it get to him as badly as it did.
None of that was present right now, though. Henry looked relaxed, unburdened by whatever it was that was bothering him during the day, and Steve…
Steve had the softest feeling in his chest right now.
Maybe it was the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on tonight, but he didn't even try to deny how warm and gooey he felt looking at Henry. Just like he couldn't deny the absolute truth of the matter, although, he supposed, he had no real reason to want to.
He'd sort of known for a while, but right now it was so blatant it felt ridiculous that he hadn't acknowledged it. Henry was the one he looked forward to talking to at school every morning, Henry was the one he wanted to sit with at lunch, Henry was the one he wanted to go with him to parties, and movies, and dinners, and-and—
And Henry was the one he wanted when his heart was breaking.
Because Henry was his best friend.
It was childish, he knew that. But, it was true. And there was no reason to pretend otherwise.
The party, the heartbreak, it all seemed so distant right now, in the quiet car in this dark neighborhood, the only sound Henry's quiet breathing. Despite everything, Steve felt okay. He relaxed in his seat; tomorrow was going to suck, and probably the day after, and the day after, but for right now, he could enjoy the peace of this moment before it all fell apart.
That's how you knew someone was special, Steve thought to himself as he slowly tilted his head and pressed his cheek against the top of Henry's head, when their company could make you feel better without them even being conscious.
This wouldn't last, but he could let it go on for a few more minutes.
-.
In the end, Henry wakes himself up.
His peaceful expression had disappeared at some point, but Steve hadn't noticed until he'd started muttering in his sleep and he'd looked down to see a furrowed brow and a frown. He couldn't quite make out what he was saying, but he caught a few words, and he bet if he'd heard anymore they wouldn't explain much. Drunk people had weird dreams, right? Because that would explain why Henry looked so upset while murmuring about butterflies and rainbows.
Then, he'd jerked upright, with his eyes wide open, and for a moment it looked almost like he was completely sober. Like he'd managed to sleep it off in ten minutes. But, that moment passed, and his face scrunched up before he buried it in his hands.
Steve heard him groan a little, and he felt a stab of sympathy even though he knew there was really no one to blame for this but Henry. He reached out and patted him on the back just the same, though.
Henry jumped a little at the contact, like he'd forgotten that he wasn't alone, and he snapped to look over at him. But, the wide eyed surprise that had been so apparent on his expression disappeared just as quickly, and Henry's face softened into a gentle smile.
"Steve," he said, his voice sweet and soft, like it had been when he'd asked him to smoke.
"Hey," Steve replied, unable to stop himself from being disarmed. Henry had always had quite the smile—ask anyone, they'd say you'd need sunglasses to look at that thing—but right now, it was something else. Something special. For the life of him though, Steve didn't know why. Must be the alcohol.
He couldn't dwell on that though, because they'd been sitting in this car long enough, and he knew that the time had come for them to head inside.
Where Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair were.
"Okay, Henry, man, I need you to listen," Steve said, and Henry nodded, his eyes glued to Steve's face, "We're going to go inside, we're going to say a quick hi to your parents, and then we're going to go up to your room."
Henry nodded again, still completely focused on him.
"Once we're up in your room, we'll be fine, we just need to get past your parents. So, don't say anything. I'll do the talking."
Henry continued to nod, his attention never straying.
"Alright, ready?" Steve asked, glancing at the house before focusing back on Henry's face again, which was blissfully blank; that sweet smile remaining fixed even as he replied.
"For what?"
And—
Henry was his best friend, he knew that now, but Steve still put his head down on the wheel and groaned.
-.
"Hi, Mama, Dad!"
Steve swore under his breath, but put on his best fake smile and waved at Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair; never letting up on pushing Henry towards the stairs.
He'd known that Henry got along with his parents way better than most teenagers did, but it was still strange to see that bright smile make an appearance when he'd laid eyes on them and hear the way he'd so energetically greeted them. He couldn't imagine ever being that genuinely happy to see his parents, let alone while he was drunk.
"Hey, Baby," Mrs. Sinclair replied, smiling from her place on the couch, and to be fair Steve doubted his mom had ever looked so pleased to see him, especially not after she'd known he was partying, "Have a good time?"
"Yep, yep! Great party!" Steve cut in before Henry could say anything incriminating, managing to steer him up the stairs, "We're just going to talk about, uh, the quiz we have soon, then I'll head out."
"Alright, sounds good," Mrs. Sinclair replied mildly, although Steve hardly registered it; he was so close to getting them both upstairs and out of sight.
"Steve."
Shit.
For a moment, Steve was still, his breath stuck in his throat. Thankfully, they were far enough up the stairs that the people in the living room couldn't see that reaction, but that meant he had to shake himself out of his state and take a few steps back on the stairs so he could see Mr. Sinclair.
It wasn't that he was scared of him or anything, but in the few times he'd been around Henry's father, he'd gotten the feeling that he hadn't forgotten the circumstances of their first meeting. That his first impression had really never gone away. He never said anything, he seemed like a quieter man by nature, but Steve knew well enough when someone didn't approve of him.
And, if he already didn't think much of him, then Steve couldn't imagine he'd really react that well if he realized how absolutely blasted he'd gotten his son.
"Yes, Sir?" He asked, the honorific coming without a single thought, even though he didn't usually use one for anybody; Mr. Sinclair was just the type who you felt merited it from the moment you saw him. Steve wondered if Henry would be that kind of man too, when he got a little older.
"Thank you for getting our boy home," Mr. Sinclair said, as serious as he ever was, but genuine just the same.
"Uh, yeah, no problem," Steve replied quietly, feeling too thrown off to reply as he probably should have. It didn't seem to matter though, because Mr. Sinclair gave him a nod and turned back to his book in an obvious dismissal, and Steve had to come back to himself so he could maneuver Henry down the hall.
"Can you just walk?" Steve hissed quietly at his friend who was tripping over his own feet.
"Floor's wrong," Henry replied, a little too loudly for comfort.
"The floor is not wrong, just come on."
While Steve struggled with Henry and Henry struggled with basic mobility, neither boy had any way of knowing that the thumps and hisses were clearly heard by the two adults downstairs.
"We raised a real winner, Judy," Charles said, his wife picking up a throw pillow and smacking him in the side with it.
"Don't even try," Judith replied, a smile on her lips as she replied, "I remember the shit you pulled in high school."
"Yeah, because you were pulling it too," Charles countered.
"Sure was," Judith said flippantly, "I wasn't a square."
"You still aren't, Baby," Charles said, the pair chuckling as he threw an arm over her shoulders. Their laughter cut off when a particularly loud bang came from above; both looking up at the ceiling and then back down at each other, "And our son isn't either."
-.
Once they made it to the doorway of his room, Henry seemed to go on autopilot—striding forward without hesitation and plopping face first into his bed—while Steve lingered in the hall.
He'd never been in Henry's room before.
Usually they just saw each other at school or something, and the few times he'd been to his house, it had been a really quick thing and they'd never even gone upstairs. To be fair, he didn't think Henry had ever been in his either, but it was still a little strange.
And even stranger to feel like he shouldn't go in.
It was just his room for god's sake, why did he feel like this was too much? Too personal? He'd been in plenty of girls' rooms and he'd never once felt like this. This was just Henry, just his room, just where he spent his time privately and probably felt his most comfortable. Where he was most himself.
Where he drunkenly struggled to take off his jacket.
He'd pushed himself up while Steve was distracted, and managed to kick his shoes off, but he couldn't seem to get his Thriller jacket off, and he was mumbling swears as he pulled at it a little too violently. Steve pushed those weird feelings down and finally walked past the doorway so he could sit next to Henry on the bed.
"Hey, hey! Calm down," Steve said, reaching out and grabbing a hold of the jacket collar, "Let me help you."
Henry stilled and let Steve move closer so he could get it off (an easy feat when you were sober), but the entire time his eyes remained fixed on him; not looking away even once the jacket was discarded onto the desk chair.
"What?" Steve said, feeling uncertain under his unwavering gaze. He usually didn't mind it when Henry looked at him intently, but right now was something else. He didn't feel that mild self-consciousness, he felt… exposed. Like Henry was looking right through him, like he was seeing things that no one else could. Not even Steve himself.
Henry smiled, and just like that, the undefinable stare was gone.
He still had that sweet expression on his face when he laid back in his bed and shut his eyes, and Steve knew that this time he wouldn't open them until morning.
But, now Steve was sitting on Henry's bed, in Henry's room, without any supervision.
He should just go. He should walk right out of this room, wave goodbye to the Sinclairs, get in his car, and go. Because Henry was fine in bed, he didn't need him to look after him anymore, and honestly it was weird to stick around in someone's room while they slept. But…
But, Steve didn't want to leave yet.
Leaving meant being alone, truly alone, for the first time since everything that happened at the party. Leaving meant having to face his own thoughts, his own heart, without anything to distract him. Leaving meant… Leaving meant leaving Henry, and even though he was asleep, Steve wasn't ready to do that just yet.
He stood up, sitting on the bed felt like a little too much now that Henry was out, and his eyes wandered around the room. It was nice, Steve decided, cozy and lived-in. There were the basics like bookshelves and a desk, but what caught Steve's attention were the small things with Henry's fingerprints all over them. A stack of vinyls in the corner with Purple Rain right on top, some magazines haphazardly thrown on the bedside table (Prince, George Michael, Prince again, Jesus, Henry really liked Prince), and a corkboard hanging on the wall next to his desk covered in—
Steve felt his throat tighten as he took in the drawings pinned to the board; far too good to be from any kid other than Will Byers.
Henry never really talked about it, only mentioned it offhandedly when Nancy wanted to do something after school or on the weekend and he couldn't because he had to babysit. Steve had assumed it was sort of a mixture between being a close friend of Jonathan and a feeling of responsibility towards the Byers family for why he did it; just another example of Henry thinking he had to help people.
But, right now, looking at the drawings of knights and wizards that he kept so prominently in his room, Steve realized that Henry wasn't looking after Will out of obligation.
Around the big pieces of papers, there were pictures. Lots were of Henry and Will, which made sense since these were probably coming from Jonathan. Those ones should've been boring, they were all simple things like them sitting together at the table doing homework together, but Steve still felt himself get a tiny bit choked up as he looked at them. It was sweet, painfully so, and a sort of domesticity that made Steve's chest ache a little bit.
Will was lucky, he decided, that he had someone like Henry looking out for him after everything. No one better.
It wasn't just Will though, there were plenty of other pictures. Some of Henry and his family, some of Henry and the other boys that Will and his brother were friends with, and some of Henry and his friends. Henry and Nancy sitting on a picnic table in front of the school, Henry and Jonathan chuckling together in a wonky picture that Steve suspected Nancy had taken (which would explain why they were laughing), and somehow all three of them squished into frame, none of them looking particularly ready for the picture, but smiling just the same.
And not one had Steve in it.
He looked over the board once, then twice, just to make sure. But, he'd been right since the start; there wasn't a single picture of him. Not even in the background. And Steve knew that Jonathan had caught him in his pictures more than once, so there was really no reason for him not to be here.
Except there was. A simple one.
Steve looked back at Henry, fast asleep, and for a moment he couldn't take his eyes off of him, even though the longer he looked, the worse it hurt. He was stretched out on the mattress, his right leg hanging off the side only highlighting how his body was just a little too big for his bed (you could forget how tall and broad he was until he straightened his shoulders and peered down at you with a look), and he looked more relaxed than Steve had ever seen him. His expression was peaceful, with the ghost of the smile he'd had for Steve before he'd finally succumbed to sleep, probably because he was absolutely unaware of his surroundings.
He didn't know that Steve was standing in his room, looking at him with a deep frown etched onto his features.
He was going to pick Nancy.
He was always going to pick Nancy. Didn't matter if he thought she was acting like a "fucking idiot," everyone thought that about their best friend at one point or another. Because that's what she was.
Nancy was Henry's best friend.
Nancy was the one he talked to at school every morning, Nancy was the one he sat with at lunch, Nancy was the one he went with to parties, and movies, and dinners, and…
Steve was just Henry's best friend's boyfriend
And once he wasn't that…
Steve's thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound that disrupted the silence of the room, but any panic that might have hit him was quickly gone once he realized that it was just Henry mumbling in his sleep again. It was about shade or something, and a shiver ran through him; his peaceful expression gone now in favor of a frown. Without even thinking about it, Steve grabbed the blanket at the base of the bed to drape over him, and Henry immediately burrowed into it even though he was clearly still fast asleep.
A rush of affection hit Steve as he took in the cozy scene, but it was sour. He knew the fact of the matter now, and no amount of fondness on his side would make a damn difference.
He was just doomed to care more about people than they cared about him.
Steve turned away the moment that thought hit him and stalked out of the room. He couldn't stand to be in there anymore, if he looked at Henry for a second longer he might scream or break something or—
Or burst into tears.
He didn't pay the Sinclairs any mind as he hurriedly walked out of their house and back outside. The night that had seemed calm and relaxing not ten minutes ago was suddenly cold and unwelcoming, and as he slammed his car door behind him, Steve found that though his chest ached and his stomach turned, a new sense of resolve hit him.
This wouldn't be like Nancy. He wouldn't let it be. Sure, Henry might be totally prepared to just dump him like there was nothing between them, but Steve wasn't even going to give him a chance. Henry couldn't pick Nancy over him if he wasn't even a choice. Henry couldn't leave him behind if he was already gone.
Steve refused to let his heart be broken twice.
And he refused to acknowledge that it already had.