Thursday 10th of November
Steve knew silence.
When you live alone, you become well acquainted with the type of silence that is controllable. Predictability stemming from the fact that almost every sound you hear is a direct result of your own actions.
Then there was the silence that followed his parents.
It was one filled with uncertainty that made his body run alight with nervous energy. It was heavy, it was stifling and most of all, it made every unexpected sound feel like a threat. It was the sort of unpredictable silence without a clear end that left you just waiting for it to be broken and Steve hated the paranoia that accompanied it.
This fear of broken silence in the presence of his parents came from two things; his desire for their attention and fear from their disappointment. In the admittedly short amount of time he had spent in their company, there were few instances of positive interaction. Their disapproval when things got too much, tended to result in pain, both emotional and physical. Yet, despite this, he still craved their attention.
So, he was stuck in the middle of wanting the silence, in all its oppressive nature, to end but simultaneously wishing it stayed forever and his isolation would stop them from noticing him.
If his peers were to see Steve enter his home when his parents were there, they would've been astonished by the change. His entire body language would shift into something soft and careful. His footfalls immediately became lighter, every object he lifted would be place back down with extreme care so not to make any excess noise, even his breathing would soften to inaudible puffs. All of this, incorporated seamlessly into his behaviour, hardly noticing the unconscious shift himself.
When his parents were home, they way things worked were different. What he comes to expect, how he behaves, what he priorities, how he thinks, everything shifts. So, when Steve woke up to the unlit darkness of his living room with a pounding in is skull, his first thought was not for himself but the singular belief that he needed to fix himself up as quietly as possible.
Steve wasn't entirely sure why he had woken up on the ground but he remembered driving his parent home and that coupled with his injuries meant that he'd fucked up again. He grit his teeth and he forced himself to sit, despite the fierce lines of fire across his chest.
He probably had a couple of hours before school started, Steve noted absently as his fingertips came back sticky after tentatively touching the back of his head. Wincing as he pulled himself to his feet, noting the particular pain and comparing it to past hurts, allowing him to identify what was wrong. (His chest was bruised but he hadn't cracked any ribs thankfully. He'd most likely fallen and hit his head, giving his Father the option of kicking him in the torso. That was the most plausible option.)
Standing up straight seemed to be a bad idea because the room immediately tipped sideways and Steve automatically steadied himself on the closest object. Eyes screwed shut as he took quick breaths through his nose.
Shit. He swore internally and resigned himself to spending the next few weeks in pain. It'll be a month before his bruised ribs would fully heal.
The next few steps were done robotically. Ice to reduce inflammation and ibuprofen for the pain (thank fuck that stuff had become available over the counter last year- not that the first aid kit didn't have any before that, but at least it was easier to restock.)
He checked his appearance in the mirror and was thankful that his face didn't look like shit (it didn't matter though, the teachers all thought he got into fights anyway - they'd probably be surprised to find no instances of fighting on his record) and he tipped his head under the sink faucet to get the blood out of his hair. It hurt but what didn't? The wound definitely looked worse than it was so that was a plus.
Sitting on the closed toilet seat, Steve rested his forearms on his thighs and his head hang low until the word stopped shifting. The hum of the bathroom light and the dripping faucet filing his ears as his mind stayed blissfully blank and empty.
He couldn't remember.
There was a loud ringing in his ears as he felt his body freeze. The world faded away until all that was left was the detached sensation of breathing. Panic crawled up his throat as his stomach turned in a way that made him feel sick.
He couldn't remember.
How many years had he spent haunted over things he could not recall? How many hours had he spent in a futile hope to remember something more than bloodied walls and broken screams?
He couldn't remember.
What if he had forgotten more than just last night- was it only one night? What if it'd been longer? What if he never remembered? What if he started forgetting things periodically? The head wound didn't seem to bad but he could've knocked a few screws loose or something-
No! He thought in terror, Not again, he doesn't want to forget again! He couldn't do this again! Please- no- fuck-
Steve didn't notice the sudden shallowness of his breaths as his lungs struggled to take in enough air. It wasn't until his chest started to burn, that he realised he and forgotten how to breathe- fuck not now.
He was on the floor now, shaking hands pressed against the cold tiles in a desperate attempt to ground himself. His head rushed and his heart rate thudded in his ears. He was drowning. Trapped under an invisible weight as he fought for air. Thoughts, unintelligable and chaotic, spiralled through his mind as he was consumed by the loss of control.
Steve didn't know how long it was before his breaths were no longer forced and his body steady enough to pick himself off the ground. Leaning on the sink, hair unstyled and dripping from the cold water he splashed against the back of his neck and face. His eyes were hollow and sunken in and Steve supposed it was a good thing everyone thought he was enough of a dick to wear sunglasses in class.
Pushing aside any lingering discomfort he felt, Steve pulled himself together and fixed his appearance. He didn't particularly want to go upstairs to get a new set of clothes when he could risk alerting them to his presence so the stuff he woke up in should be fine. His books were in his locker since it was one of those rare days he didn't have any homework so he could slip out pretty quickly since there was nothing he needed to bring in particular.
His parents would be awake soon and it'd be best he left before they saw him. Steve still had to figure out what he'd done wrong after all.
His head nodded a couple times during period one.
It was dark.
Eyes growing heavy as he fought the sudden wave of sleepiness that threatened to overwhelm him.
He could see something. On the ground. Skin ashen and unnatural.
He'd gone longer periods of time without sleep in the past.
Black vines curled and twisted around it.
But he was stressed. He was in pain. He was scared. (He just wanted a break- was that so much to ask?)
Decaying particles floated, suspended in the air around it.
In the end, he was still human and there was only so much the body could take before shut down.
A disconcerting contrast- something far too soft for something so cold.
He slumped forward in his seat at the back of the classroom.
The form grew clearer as he stepped forward.
Sleep took him.
No- Stǫ̴p̸͜! H̸e ̴d҉̢i͟d̸̕͏n͠'̶t͠ ͠w̧an̶̕t̵̡ ̨͞t͏̕͝o͡ ̷͜s̴̸e̴͘͜ę͘ ̴͘͏t͢h̛i̕s̸̴̡! [His words came out like static. It couldn't hear him.]
The teacher didn't notice him drop off, busy marking a quiz while the class completed independent study.
He could see it now. Clear in a way that was only possible if he was leaning over the collapsed form.
His eyes flickered beneath his eyelids. Mind worlds away from his body.
N͘o ̷̡no ͟no̶͟͡!͘ ͞It͟͞'͝s͘҉̷ ̨̛͞no̕t͘͘͢ r̡ea͞l!҉͟
[He fell to his knees, hands grasping his head as he bowed forward and screamed]
It͝'̡s̛ n҉ot he҉r͜!
The bell rang. Steve jerked awake. His breath came out in a panicked staccato as he struggled to control his breathing.
Fuck! No! It's not true- fuck- God please no-
Steve ran a hand through his hair, his sudden freak out going unnoticed as his peers quickly filed out of the classroom. But with every second he spent recalling what he had seen, the dream already began slipping from his thoughts as his mind forced itself to forget.
(But its control was slipping-
And Steve wasn't going to forget)
"Did you hear?" Someone muttered to their friends by the lockers.
"Byers-"
"-quarry-"
"Body found-"
"Dead."
Will isn't dead. Whispered words, echoed unnoticed and were subconsciously ignored at the back of his mind. Will isn't dead, but Barb is...
And it's your fault.
Steve stayed back after school for basketball practice. His performance was subpar and a sharp stabbing pain lanced through his chest with every heave of his lungs that forced it to expand. He knew he shouldn't be twisting so much and that rest was the best medicine but for some reason he still clung to his reputation.
Steve Harrington played basketball and alerting the coach of his injuries would get him just a few strikes from being off the team for fighting. It wasn't like he could tell them that he'd gotten attacked on the way home. Hawkins had a population of roughly 30,000 people and while that was by no means small, it wasn't big either so making up a location that someone might have been in at the time would call him out on his lie. Then they'd think he go into a 'scuffle' with some other kid and that wasn't something he needed on his record.
(It didn't even cross his mind to say it was his parents. They were only trying to fix him after all.)
"So, wait a sec-" Steve's mind stuttered to a halt at Nancy's words, "I don't understand. You went back to my house?"
"To look for Barb," She stated like it was the most obvious reason.
"Yeah, okay-" He understood that, "but why didn't you just talk to me?"
Why didn't she just ask him? Did she not trust him?
"I don't know, I... I was scared." She looked down, worrying her hands down her arms in a way that said she was nervous and Steve forcefully pushed down the ache in his chest.
"You seriously think you saw a guy in a mask just hanging out in my yard?" He kept his tone light and his face free of worry as he tried to understand what she was saying.
"I don't think it was a mask."
"But he had no face?" Steve tried to say it in a way that said he wanted to believe her whilst trying to convey how absurd this sounded but something in his tone must've been off because Nancy suddenly snapped.
"I don't know! I don't know, I just… I have a terrible feeling about this."
An awkward silence fell between them and the weight of their situation finally clicked in Steve's mind. Barbara was missing and the last place she was seen was his house.
"Oh, this is bad. This is really bad." Panic was bubbling up inside him as he ran a hand through his hair in nervous habit.
"What?" Nancy felt herself say, left flatfooted by the sudden change in his behaviour.
"The cops- they're gonna want to talk to all of us now," Steve's whole body tensing up, "Tommy, Carol, everybody who was at the party."
"So?" She said again, trying to figure out what it was that he was getting to.
"My parents are gonna murder me!" Steve couldn't stop the words that tumbled without thought from his lips. The point he was trying to make falling soundless through the air- unspoken and unheard. (They were going to beat him within an inch of his fucking life because they might want to search the house and no one was allowed to enter their offices. He was messing up their reputation to a degree there was no way he'd get out of.)
They were never home but Steve didn't doubt they knew about the parties, the drinking and the cigarettes. As long as he was popular and charming, what did it matter? Image was everything to the Harrington's and people saw a charming young rebellious teen; the sort that would straighten out after a few years so what did it matter if he acted like he did? It was just a phase teenagers went through after all. But this was different. This was the police. The fucking authorities and it didn't matter if he was innocent, a girl had gone missing near his house and that made him more than just a witness.
"Are you serious right now?" Steve heard her voice like it was underwater.
"You don't understand," He can feel his heart picking up as his tried to tell her what this means for him, "My dad's a grade A asshole-"
"Barb is missing!" She cuts him off in disbelief, "And you're worried about your dad?"
"Okay, just-" He fumbled for a way to save the situation, to explain his worry without telling her about his parents, "When you talk to the cops, just- don't mention the beers. It's just gonna get us both in trouble, and Barbara's got nothing to do with it, okay?"
Nancy freezes for a second, a scoff leaving her as she glances down and shakes her head. In that moment, before she even speaks, Steve knows he's fucked up.
"I can't believe you right now. I can't believe you," She looks at him as if she expected better but wasn't sure why, like she knew this would happen eventually.
"Nancy- Nancy, wait! Nancy!"
Steve stops himself chasing after her with an aborted step forward.
How?
Twisting to face the wall, he kicks it in frustration and he grits his jaw with clenched fists.
How did he always manage to fuck things up?!
Screwing his eyes shut as he tried to push all these feelings out of his skin. His mind a fog of anger and self loathing.
Nancy was the one who was suffering- her best friend was missing and all Steve could think about was his own stupid problems. Stupid stupid stupid! Fuck you Steve fucking Harrington! Can't even get one thing right?
Steve sunk down the back of the wall until he was sitting on the ground, head in his hands as he tried to clamp down the hurt that was rising inside him.
Why couldn't he get just one thing right?
Calvin Powell sighed once more as he knocked on the door to the Harrington's home. The Holland's had reported their daughter missing the day before and after searching her home for clues, they found her to be a very studious, sweet young lady. They'd gone out an a limb and questioned her friends (or friend as he later found out) to learn she had been at a party with four others at the Harrington residence. They searched the area and tried the house but there was no one home and aside from her missing car, there was really no evidence to suggest she had run away.
They'd gone back to question the kids who were present only to find that the Wheeler girl had changed her story and seemed to think that Miss. Holland had been taken by a strange creature? Phil suggested that perhaps she had indeed run away, after hearing Hagan and Perkins accounts, due to jealousy. Wheeler seemed quite convinced that this was too out of character and urged them to re-search the Harrington property. Knowing that they'd passed the 24 hour window and time was now extremely against them, they were now back with hopes of searching the building and questioning the boy.
From what he'd heard, the Harrington's were perfectly normal and respected individuals. Of course quite work focused and out of town for business more often than not, but respectable never the less. Their son, on the other hand, seemed to be quite the trouble maker. The most popular boy in school who seemed to look down on education and care more about his looks and partying. As a result, doing poorly in all his classes and not taking anything seriously. The teachers seemed to see him as a problem child with potential if only he applied himself and were quite convinced that he had bullied several students in the past. They'd just been leaving the school when another elderly teacher approached them.
"Yes, what can we help you with Ms...?" Phil asked, reaching a hand out.
She shook it and smiled, "Mrs. Miller."
"Officer Callahan, and this is my partner Officer Powell."
"It's just that I heard you were asking around about Steve and I'm one of his teachers you see. He's not in trouble is he?"
"Ah, no Mrs. Miller, but Miss. Holland went missing recently after going to a party of his so we were just asking for character references," Calvin answered, "Is there anything you can tell us about him?"
"Yes, yes, he's such a lovely boy." Both Officers felt a jolt of surprise at this.
"Lovely Mrs. Miller?" Phil asked, eyebrows raising in clear scepticism .
"Oh yes, I know the other teachers don't seem to think so but he's been nothing but a wonderful student to teach, so much talent you see and so eager to learn."
Calvin was even more confused now as this directly contrasted everything they had heard so far, "What is it that you teach Mrs. Miller?"
"AP Art."
"Harrington takes Art?" Phil asked in greater shock, Surely not? Art didn't seem to be a subject in line with something that he'd choose going by what they'd heard about him.
"Indeed he does! And I was so surprised, it's so rare that I get a boy choose my class," She continued on as if not having heard his surprise, "He's got such a good eye, can work with just about anything; paints, fabric, clay, you name it. Doesn't always get the written work right though, seems to have a bit of trouble with spelling the dear."
"This has been very helpful, thank you Mrs. Miller," Calvin smiled, his head still having trouble making sense of the conflicting accounts of information.
"It's been no trouble at all," Her smile dimmed slightly, pausing as if she had more to say, "And... if you seem him later on, if you could just check and see if he's okay, that would really ease my mind."
That caught Phil's attention, "Do you think he's in trouble?"
"Well no- yes- I'm not certain," she began, worrying her hands together, "It's just that he's been a bit... tense this week, like he hasn't been sleeping as well and something is bothering him. I'm sorry, I just worry because he's always been a bit quiet in my classes but this week it's like he's been even more so."
"We'll be sure to check if he's okay when he visit him later," Phil reassured and that's how they found themselves outside the Harrington's home, their conversation with Mrs. Miller weighing on their minds.
The door opened after a few moments and Steve seemed to pale at the sight of them before welcoming them in. Calvin shared a glance with Phil at this.
"Who's there Steven?" A woman asked from another room.
Steve, or Steven, seemed to hesitate before answering, "It's the police, they're just here to ask me some questions."
The woman appeared from around the corner, dressed to the nines and looking appropriately worried, "Is there a problem here Officers?"
Phil smiled reassuringly, "Nothing to worry about Mrs. Harrington, one of your son's classmates went missing a few days ago and we were just asking everyone who had seen her last."
"Oh that's terrible, do come in. I apologise for the mess, I broke a glass earlier and haven't had a chance to clean it up yet."
They entered the open plan living/dining room that had glass doors leading to the back. It was a lovely house, tastefully done and the interior definitely cost more than anything Calvin could ever afford. He quickly noticed the wine spillage and shattered glass, realising that it had been broken a while ago due to the fact that it had already dried.
Sitting on the lounge, facing the boy who sat on a chair to the side, the noticed the way his eyes kept flicking to his Mother.
"Richard," She said suddenly and Steve tensed almost imperceivably in his seat, "There gentlemen were here to ask Steven some questions."
The man who had just entered the room stepped forward into his son's line of sight and the boy looked up at him before his eyes quickly flicked back towards the Officers.
"What did he do now?" Mr. Harrington asked accusingly, looking Steve in disapproval.
"Richard," She cut in quickly smiling, "There's a missing girl, that's all."
Calvin frowned slightly, noticing quick Mr. Harrington was to assume his son had done something wrong, "I'm Officer Powell, this is Officer Callahan," and they both stood up to shake the parents' hands.
The questioning was relatively simple and Steve's answers lined up with the other three statements they'd received so far but Calvin couldn't help but notice how he kept looking at his parents before glancing away every time he answered. Phil seemed to notice this too, despite his carefree attitude and joking personality, he was perceptive when he needed to be.
"I have a few more questions I want to ask, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, would it be okay if you left the room?"
"As Steven is a minor and both his parents are present, do we not have the right to refuse further questioning without us present?"
"Mrs. Harrington, we're not going to accuse him of Miss. Holland's disappearance. There were just a few more questions that we believe he'll be more comfortable answering alone."
"That's nonsense. The boy is fine answering anything with us here, isn't that right Steven?" Mr. Harrington brushed aside confidently.
But Steve didn't answer instantly and there was a pause, prompting the officers to look at him, making him jolt in his seat.
"Right," He quickly interjected, "My parents can stay."
"Never mind then," Phil cut in smoothly, making it seem like he had not noticed the tension in the room.
"Is there anything else Officers?"
"Not at the moment, although, if you could let us look around a bit that would be quite helpful."
"Do you have a warrant?" Mr. Harrington asked seriously.
"No-"
"Then my answer is no as well. Have a good day and I hope you find Miss. Holland."
Sitting in the car, driving back to the station, Calvin couldn't help thinking about Steve.
"Something wasn't right there Phil. I don't know what but something wasn't right."
"You think he did had something to do with it?" Callahan asked.
"No, but his parents gave me weird feelings or something. I don't know."
"Yeah, me too. Teenagers fight with their parent's all the time though, we could've just been seeing things."
"Yeah... that was probably it."
But that didn't stop him feeling something was wrong.
Friday 11th of November
"Whoa-" Steve dodged a swing with mild surprise before jumping back at the second.
"Whoa! Hey," He raised his hand in surrender as if to say; 'Its just me!'
Nancy huffs out a breath, slightly winded, "What are you doing here?"
She doesn't angry at him, just a bit confused and Steve tries to think of a way to start this conversation without making things worse, "What are you doing?"
"Nothing." That answer was a little too quick but Steve doesn't call her out on it. That's not why he's here after all.
"I hope that's not meant for me." He tries joking but it falls flat at her confused response, like her mind is elsewhere.
"What? No," She looks down at the bat before not quite looking at Steve, fumbling as she comes up with an explanation, "Oh, no, I was just… thinking about joining softball."
She's lying again and Steve kicks himself at the unwarranted hurt he feels. He hurt her and it's perfectly understandable that she keeps secrets from him.
"Oh. Well, uh… listen, I'm really sorry- I mean- even before you threatened me with the baseball bat." And there he is again, falling back on jokes when he's trying to make a serious apology. Damn it Steve!
"Okay," She says, her attention now completely on him.
"I panicked and-" He stops himself, sighing, before he can make another excuse for his behaviour, "I mean, I was a total dick."
"Yeah, you were."
There's an awkward pause as he waits for her to say something else.
"Did you get in trouble with your parents?" And the change of subject makes him light with relief as Steve now knows she's forgiven him. It makes him wonder how he managed to get a girl like Nancy who still listened to what he had to say in spite of her frustration over his actions yesterday.
"Totally," He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and gives her a smile.
There's bruising along his back, mottled red and quickly turning purple in places. His body aches in places it hasn't for a while and Steve isn't looking forward to returning home later.
"But you know, who cares? Screw 'em." None of the matters, that's just the way his world works.
"Any news about Barbara? Parents heard from her? Or…" Even as he asked, something niggled at that back of his mind, telling him he already knew the answer.
"No," She says with clear concern and upset.
"Hey, listen," He tries to distract her from the topic and lift her mood, "Why don't we, uh," He wracks his brain for something to say, "Why don't we catch a movie tonight, you know? Just kinda pretend everything's normal for a few hours. All The Right Moves is still playing. You know, with your lover boy from Risky Business?" He chuckles.
"Yeah, I know." And her small smile makes him light up with this small success.
"You know," He continues so not to let the mood drop again, "Carol thinks I actually kinda look like him. What do you think? Huh?" Steve hilts his head as if to show her his face before breaking out into song, "Just take those old records off the shelf. I'll sit and listen to them by myself!"
He looks at her hopefully but she just looks away regretfully, "I just, I... I don't think I can. I've been really busy with this whole funeral thing and," She takes in a deep breath, "With my brother. It's been really hard on him."
"Yeah, sure," He understands immediately, "Sure, yeah, yeah. So… I should go. Sorry. I'll call you later. Is that okay?"
"Yeah," She smiles slightly, "Yeah, of course."
Love. He thought he knew love. He questioned if what he felt for his parents was love or longing and decided it was the latter. He grounded this recent realisation in the knowledge of what it felt to love Nancy Wheeler. But here he is again, only two days later, questioning once again if his original decision was correct. He thought he loved Nancy but what he's feeling now isn't positive. It hurts. So either love is when you want to be with someone but it hurts or love is caring for someone but not wanting to be near them. Those are the only two loves he knows. So perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps love is both and he loves his parents as he loves Nancy Wheeler. But one makes him want to run and the other makes his heart feel like its being carved from his chest.
He wasn't sure what he was thinking, going to see Nancy after she was clearly caught up in something else. Perhaps he figured that since it was evening and a lot of shit had happened recently, she'd want someone beside her, someone who might not understand what she's going through but can support her. But Steve shouldn't fool himself. He didn't go to see her out of purely wanting to be there for her. To help her out and offer her shoulder to lean on. No... Steve went because he was selfish, because he wanted to be beside someone who saw a bit of himself beyond the school. Because he wanted a shoulder to lean on, because he wanted to spend time with her, watch her laugh and smile and let it wash away all the worries in his head so it's just filled with her. Because she made him feel happy and maybe he was running. Running from the house, running from his parents. Who wouldn't even look at him because whatever he did that first night back must've been terrible for them to leave him knocked out on the floor. Because of what he did by bringing the police attention to their family and that if his parents weren't home, he would've let them search the house without asking about the warrant.
So he was running away from the house. How its large size and open plan on the ground floor, with it's tall glass doors that led to an open view of the back yard, into the forest did nothing to stop it from feeling like the walls were pressing in. Like the place was too small for himself and people as grand as his parents presence. Running from the expectation and the feeling of constantly having to be ready, be aware and the sense of waiting for some strike, despite their rarity, despite their reluctance to leave marks although hen when get started they leave them anyway.
Steve replays the moment in his head, over and over again, until all he can see is Nancy's pain and Jonathan right beside her. Fucking Byers, comforting her and Steve would be blind to not notice how the tension in her shoulders lessened with whatever he whispers, how she leant into him ever so slightly when he rested a hesitant hand on her back.
That's how he got here, driving back through the streets, with no real destination in mind, his head and heart burning with something fierce and unwanted. Reminding himself of why he shouldn't be upset because Steve didn't go there just because he wanted to make sure she was okay and that made him selfish. So, it shouldn't have hurt him. He shouldn't have felt upset when he stupidly climbed the garage roof to her window in a mirror of the time when things were still okay. Climbing up, hoping to surprise her, hoping to be a failed prince charming all over again just to hear her laugh an let the sound wash away every bitter feeling inside of him.
He was using her to make himself better and that wasn't right, not after how he had treated her earlier.
But... Was it really all his fault?
Steve was going to see Nancy, climbing up onto the garage roof and to her window, ready to surprise her, to try and make her smile again but he stops short. He's frozen. Nancy's there, like he expected, but her shoulders are hunched and something about her posture looks sad, hopeless, confused and terrified all at once but that's not all. Byers is beside her, putting his jacket around her shoulders and Steve doesn't know what to think. He's confused and hurt. He doesn't even think before he's moving, jumping off to the ground and he's in his car, driving far too far for suburbia and Steve has to stop because there are tears in his eyes and he can't stop them.