Jonathan was talking to some junior, Samantha, someone I had seen at the record store as well. She was in band and film club and mixed with that sort of crowd, nice enough but not someone I could ever have been friends with. The place was packed, everyone from school basically crowded into the living room, with the patio doors open onto the lawn where the new kid and all the other douchebags seemed to be chanting something and screaming at each other, like orangutans, I thought to myself amused. To be fair, Tina had called it, she had been saying for weeks that she was going to throw the biggest party of the year.
'Pure Fuel' I quickly realised, was definitely playing a big part in that. I'd only drank half my cup and I was already feeling it hitting me, dancing arm in arm with Carol's friend Nicole to Duran Duran, even though I was pretty sure yesterday I had hated her. It seemed like Nancy had been drinking it too, uncharacteristically very drunk, stumbling past us towards the bowl, red solo-cup still clasped in hand.
Steve brushed passed me, making eye contact for a moment but barely enough time to even register each other, following right behind his girlfriend with his brow furrowed and a heavy look on his face.
They were fighting about something, maybe about her drinking too much, wrestling the cup back and forth now and only garnering more attention. Nicole, pressed against my back, had stopped dancing all together, the scene peaking her interest. Steve tried yet again to pull the drink from her just to mess up, the cup falling at a crooked angle, spilling the red drink down her front.
Nicole gasped loudly, slapping a hand over her mouth before laughing and hitting into me with her side. The whole room was pretty much silent, all eyes on the couple.
Nancy storming away with Steve at her feet. I actually found myself laughing too.
"'Olympus has fallen'," I mused, the room starting to liven up again and Nicole laughing harder while holding onto me, even though I doubted she knew what I had said.
"Holy shit!" Nicole giggled out, "You- you're the fucking best!" She was saying, pointing at me firmly, "I mean, Carol, she's so wrong about you! You're like the fucking best!"
I laughed back, throwing my head behind me and hugging her again, only half-aware that she was probably too drunk to even remember saying this.
"I wonder what's happening with Steve though, man," she continued drunkenly in my ear, "I mean you guys- you used to be like close, y'know? Like really close, but now he only ever talks to Wheeler and it's like…?" She made a face of some kind of exaggerated confusion, morphing into suggestion and a little bit of disgust.
I knew what she was referring to, after everything last year and Steve's falling out with Tommy H the whole group had disbanded. Popular kids no longer; just kids. The new guy, Hargrove, had managed to fill some gap that had been left behind once he'd showed up, but Steve and I were still living like nomads, not quite outcasts, but just kind of there, like flotsam on the ocean. I wasn't kidding when I said earlier that I missed him.
When Steve walked back into the main room of the party he didn't look good, holding his face and bumping shoulders with Jonathan as he walked past, making a b-line for the door. For the second time that night my eyes locked eyes with Jonathan's as we both turned to the bathroom from which he'd come. Nancy had to still be inside.
He turned around abruptly, telling Samantha that he had to go, following Steve out the door.
I turned back to Nicole, only to find that she had started talking to Charlie Campbell about something, seemingly forgetting we were even talking in the first place. I finished my drink quickly and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I pushed through the people to try and get a look through the windows.
They were talking, arguing almost. Steve looked so mad that I thought he might start to cry. Eventually he turned to me, something flashing in his eyes. This was more than a fleeting look. Jonathan followed his gaze before swallowing hard and saying something else, they both nodded before parting ways. When Jonathan got back inside we came face to face, Girls on Film still playing obnoxiously loud. He didn't stop to explain, just pushed past me with an apologetic look, walking back towards Tina's bathroom.
As I stepped outside I bumped shoulders with some guy named Trent from the soccer team, dressed in nothing but a kilt, who looked me up and down.
"Hey, what're you supposed to be? Some kind of -"
"Fuck off, dickweed!" I pushed past him towards the front of the house.
First thing I noticed as I made it through the porch was Steve's BMW, sitting stationary with the engine running.
As I got closer I spotted the back of his head, sat on the driver's side leaning back talking to himself again in low whispers. He was alone.
He must have heard me as I approached. He didn't jump, none of us jumped at anything these days, he just looked up at me with tired eyes through the strands of his hair that had fallen out of place.
I leaned through the passenger side window. "Trouble in paradise?" I asked.
"What d'you want, Y/n?" He asked glumly.
It was probably the first time we had spoken in months.
"A ride?" I asked. He wouldn't be able to say no to that.
He sighed, pausing and running a hand through his hair. "Fine, get in."
I smiled and popped the door open, climbing inside. The car still smelled the same as before, leather seats, smoke and aftershave, and a tiny bit of faberge. It smelled like Steve.
He already knew where to go, after the whole fire and everything my parents had moved to a house around the block from his, making enough cash off of the insurance checks to upgrade their status and move uptown. Plus, this wasn't the first time he'd had to drive me home after a party.
"Soooo," I began, drawing out the 'o' as I turned, looking at him, "what's got you in such a tissy?" He looked at me out the corner of his eye, shaking his head.
"Nothing, alright? I'm fine"
"'Fraid that won't quite cut it, cowboy" I quipped, the corner of his mouth turning up.
"I'm fine," he said more forcefully.
"Well, Harrington, I think you're lying".
"Okay, Y/n, whatever you say" he brushed off, with the tone of talking to small child.
The car wasn't as messy as it usually was, which was a good sign, meant he had his shit together. I knew not everything could be fine but that was enough to ease my mind to some degree.
Looking around, I gasped and reached over to grab the pair of sunglasses thrown on the dash in front of him, placing them on my head and grinning, turning the rear view mirror towards me to get a good look. I broke out in a fit of laughter at the sight, quickly recovering and having an idea, changing my demeanour to a more masculine one, squaring out my shoulders and looking at him again.
"Wah, a huh huh- oh hi, I'm Steve Harrington." I reached out a hand to him as if introducing myself, whole body reeking of arrogance, "Enchantè".
He was watching the whole thing quizzically, one arm hanging out of the window. "I do not sound like fucking Elvis," he said.
"Uh-huhhuh, I don' sound like Elvis, baby."
This time he did laugh.
The rest of the ride was pretty rough. Steve going back to being introspective and serious, not in the mood to talk and getting pissed at the sappy love songs when I tried turning on the stereo, turning it back off, which wasn't like him at all. Eventually he asked if he could bum a cigarette and we both just smoked groggily away into the silence, watching the curb go by through the open window, comforted at least by being in each other's presence.
"Why the fuck did everything have to change?" He finally said angrily, still facing the road, both hands on the wheel.
I didn't need to ask what he was talking about, it was the same thing we had spoken about the last time I'd been in his car, when we'd both been covered in our own blood and still paralysed in shock.
"I dunno," I said, lighting another cigarette. I wished that I had a better answer, not just for him but for myself. I had been trying my best to just forget. "I guess it's trauma."
"So what, we're fucking traumatised now?"
"Well… Yeah," I answered.
He shut up a bit after that, white knuckles gripping the steering wheel, eyes darting around the road uncomfortably. He seemed angry about something but I didn't know what.
"I mean, it's alright for you, you've got Nancy to help you figure it all out," I muttered bitterly to myself.
"Yeah well, maybe not so much" he sighed out.
"What?" I was actually laughing, "you can't be serious?"
"It's not funny, Y/n," he snapped back.
"Okay, alright- alright, I'm sorry," I said, putting my hands up and composing myself, "but what did she actually say? You're probably just overreacting."
He took a deep breath, as if gearing up for something. The car slowed down. "She- she said it was bullshit, okay? She said the whole thing was bullshit. That she didn't even love me and I was bullshit!" He let it all out in one, his voice cracking at the end.
The pair of us sat in silence for a moment. "Well shit.." I breathed out.
"Yeah, no shit 'shit.'" he replied flatly, looking straight ahead at the open road while I watched him, mouth agape.
"That's brutal!" I laughed again, not knowing how to react. He turned to me, giving me a look that said 'you think I don't know that?'. "No seriously, dude, I've been told some fucked up things in my time and even I think that's brutal!"
I sat back in my seat, smoking again, digesting this new information. Honestly, I couldn't even picture Nancy saying something like that.
"She really said that?" He didn't answer. I turned to the window. "Nancy fucking wheeler," I mused, mostly to myself.
"Nancy fucking wheeler..." he echoed beside me, barley a whisper.
"You okay?" I finally asked him, seriously.
"Oh yeah, I'm just peachy." he replied sarcastically, flashing the same look again.
"You know what I mean."
The words were soft, dipped in sincerity. Not so long ago we had sat and he had listened as I talked through my own break ups. I could practically hear the whirlwind of emotions unleashing hell inside his head, I had been in those shoes before.
"I dunno..." he admitted.
It was heartbreaking seeing him like this, seeing him in pain. There was always so much that was so whole about Steve, so much that was optimistic, forever existing in new beginnings, constant spring time and sunrises, or the moment at a party where everything was just starting to get good. Now he just looked hollow, as if the light had gone out.
"What are you gonna do?" I asked him, regretting it instantly when his face fell further.
"Fix it, I guess," he huffed out, "I have to."
That made me feel icky.
"Well... what d'you wanna do right now?" I asked. He didn't say anything, just looked at the road, he was pulling up to my street now but I didn't want to leave him, not like this, "I could - I dunno, I could come over, make sure you're alright?"
He gave me a look with an eyebrow raised.
"You're my friend, Steve, I don't like seeing you hurt", I took off the sunglasses, awkwardly fiddling with them in my lap as I sat.
His jaw was locked, he was obviously thinking things over as best he could. After a while he just sighed, driving right past the house and over the road.
We climbed out of the car in silence after pulling up the long driveway at Steve's place. I had stayed there enough times to know the deal. His parents would be out of town for a couple days on business and the spare room next to his, where his older brother used to sleep, would be free. There'd be beer in the fridge and some kind of frozen meal that would be half eaten by now.
When I walked in the place still looked the same, felt the same as it used to, pictures of the whole family smiling up from every surface, along with sports trophies and medallions all reading 'Harrington' in proud blocked letters. Breath caught in my throat when I noticed a new picture, one of him and Nancy framed on the mantle in Christmas sweaters.
Steve had left his jacket on the sofa saying something about going upstairs. The sound of a tap running coming down from the upstairs bathroom. He was probably talking to himself, he did that a lot, probably came from being stuck in the house on his own so much. Running water always helped him stay grounded.
When Steve and I were sixteen there had been a party at the edge of town that we had both been invited to and eaten pot brownies. It wasn't the first time I had been high, but that night it was on another level.
Steve had freaked out. Everyone there seemed to be laughing at him thinking it was hilarious but I couldn't handle it, watching him losing his mind sending me into my own separate, indescribable panic. He had ran out the door at whatever point, feeling suffocated, and I had followed him, walking with him through the woods for what felt like miles, calling out for him to wait up, tripping over branches and broken bottles. As the night went on we eventually hit a block, by total chance reaching the river that ran just outside of town. Once I had caught up he'd already stripped down to his boxers and was sitting in the water with his arms out, looking up at the sky basked in golden light, the calmest I'd ever seen him.
The water was freezing but he was beaming, shouting over at me saying "you have to try it, Y/n! It's so great! It's the best feeling in the whole world!" so I did. Wading out next to him and holding his hand, looking up at the sky to watch the sunrise in just my bra.
That feeling was miles away now. But it was still one of my favourite memories.
When Steve came back downstairs, it was as if there was something broken in his eyes, like he had been crying. He looked like he had been through hell in that bathroom. I stepped towards him without a word, or even a thought, and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, instinctively reaching out to him and holding him close, as close as he could get. He buried his head in my hair easily.
"I fucked it up," he said into my neck, "she's the best thing to ever happen to me and I fucked it up".
My hand ghosted over the nape of his neck, "You didn't fuck up anything, Steve."
I stayed like that for a while, rubbing soft circles into his skin and holding him for as long as he needed, listening to his breathing.
Eventually, he straightened up again and pulled himself together, taking a deep breath. His next move was to grab two beers from the fridge, handing one over and stepping outside. As always we ended up sitting at the edge of his pool, talking about whatever, with our feet hanging over the edge to dip into the water 'just like old times'.
"I just never understood why you hung out with her, she's always been such a bitch," he was saying, making me chuckle. He was a happy level of drunk now, just above tipsy but not quite a mess.
"You could say the same about me," I mused, and it was his turn to laugh.
"Well yeah, you were a bitch too, don't get me wrong, but come on? Carol? You were way better than that."
I shrugged. It was hard to really understand how it had happened, I'd never really been popular but never really been a loser either, just floating around, Carol had just picked me up along the way somewhere. Life was weird like that.
"Life's funny," I said, lighting another cigarette.
"You ask me the losers are the lucky ones." He said matter-of-factly. I couldn't help but laugh at how serious he was being, like he had just cracked the meaning of life.
"What does that make us?" I asked.
"Maybe we're just fuck ups," he said seriously, lying back with is arm behind his head. The light bouncing off his features, making it look like he was glowing. "or I am at least," he added with a remorseful look as he took the cigarette from me.
There was a heavy silence that stretched on, both of us lying on our backs.
Steve's eyes widened suddenly. "Hey, you remember that time we drove out to the city, with Tommy and Carol in the back?" I squinted at him.
"Yeah?"
"I can't believe I forgot to ask you this," he mused to himself, laughing softly, "what the hell was the name of that song?" I had no idea what he was talking about, my facial expression clearly telling him just as much. "Oh c'mon! It's like dun dun dun-dun dun -" he paused before singing a bad tune out of key, making me laugh hard now. "Stop laughing!" he hit my arm, "what is it?" I was shaking my head.
"I have no idea."
"It was the first track on that mixtape you made, we listened to it like the whole ride!" He said like he couldn't believe I could forget. "it was totally, like, sixties rock, you said you found it on an old record your mom had or something."
That actually sparked something, but I had made so many mixtapes over the years, to try and figure out which one it was would just be futile. The only thing I remembered from that trip was the parade, "Was it The Kinks?" I asked, squinting, trying to remember.
"Fuck am I supposed to know?" he'd never liked music all that much, just his Wham record.
I took a thoughtful drag from the cigarette, promising to look for it once I got home, thinking back to that time in my life. I pulled my feet out of the water, hugging my knees in the cold.
"It all went to shit after you left by the way," he started saying quietly, "if it hadn't been for Nance I don't know what the hell would have happened to me."
That got me feeling icky again.
"If you start talking about Wheeler again I might have to throw up" I tried to say lightheartedly. He started drumming his fingers on his chest, still lying on his back.
"I think you'd like her, y'know, if you got to know her," I turned back to give him a look. "I mean like really got to know her," he tried to elaborate.
"I'm pretty sure she hates me." These days it seemed as if most people did.
"No way," he scoffed, shaking his head.
"I haven't spoken to her since.. everything. Not really," I added, watching the water.
After a while the energy changed, Steve sitting up suddenly. Looking tense.
"What'cha thinkin about?" I asked him, bumping his shoulder with my own.
"Barb," He replied, with a furrowed brow.
"Nancy's friend?"
"Yeah, it was out here that the thing got her -" I felt my blood run cold and shiver go down my spine as I looked out over the water in a different light this time. "Nance... she thinks it's our fault, keeps saying it all the time," he explained, looking to the far end of the pool.
"It's not." I told him, but he made a face that made it obvious he didn't believe me.
"I could've stopped it, if I had known..." he pointed out, bringing the beer can up to his lips to take a final drink.
"There's no fucking point in thinking like that, Steve," I countered, "we could of done a lot of things, still doesn't change anything. You've got to just keep going. Move on," he met my eyes, "That's the only way you can." I finished, trying my best to seem at all convincing. That had been how I had been living, I realised. Just pushing on, hoping it would pass eventually.
The rest of the night went quietly, the sobering reminder of the past bringing with it reminders of the present, wondering what the hell I was actually doing there. Steve went up to his bedroom not long after going back inside, leaving a half eaten tub of lasagna to keep me company with my thoughts, the only food left in the house. It had been a while since I had felt so lonely, sitting there surrounded by old pictures of Steve and new pictures of Nancy and old memories I wasn't sure if I'd rather forget.
The next morning I woke up on the sofa with a blanket draped over me that I didn't remember being there before. We barely spoke as I made myself a cup of coffee with his mom's new high-tech machine that was like something out of Star Trek, aware of him pacing up and down the room behind me, dark circles under his eyes, walking over to the phone every now and then before dropping it and swearing under his breath.
I had never really seen eye to eye with Nancy but I had to admit that up until last year I had never really known she existed. When I had however, I had been introduced to Little Miss Perfect, perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect everything. Her whole existence was like a reminder of all of my inadequacies.
It wasn't really her fault but it got to me, even if I hated that it did. The way guys looked at her was like she was a rare flower, something to protect, the epitome of white picket fence suburbia and understated beauty, the classic 'girl next door'. Put all my exes in a room and you'd find yourself with a police lineup of self-obsessed assholes, all talking over each other to explain whatever new fad they were into, forever trying to act if they were way smarter than I could even begin to comprehend. The Clarks and Peters of the world who at first thought it was cool that I listened to Joy Division, only to forget a week later, leaving with a note on the table that says 'you just don't get my vibe'.
I had never been Steve's type, and I was never going to be looked at like Nancy Wheeler.
"I know it feels like hell but it'll blow over, you know it will," I was saying, attempting to break through the now icy exterior that Steve had become.
"She hasn't even returned my calls, Y/n." He glared at me from under limp hair.
"She will. She's probably just sleeping off her hangover,'' he wasn't meeting my eyes now, staring deeply into the patterned linoleum instead. "She'll come around," I added.
I convinced him to skip first-period, heading to grab breakfast at the diner down the street instead. His leg was bouncing under the table and he was biting his lip, fidgeting. All I wanted was to reach out and hold him again but that wasn't the right thing to do.
"Do you want me to leave?" I finally asked. I couldn't help but feel like an imposter, this felt too personal to be here, too uncomfortable to just watch, I didn't know how to fix this side of Steve even if I wanted to so badly.
He looked up at me, "God no, Y/n. No," he brushed the back of his hand back against mine, "no, I don't want you to leave, I'm sorry for bumming the place out," he looked out of the window, "I'm probably just thinking too much".
"Well you're not bumming me out any more than I already was."
"What'd you mean?" he asked. I hadn't expected a response to be honest.
"Nothing, just life," I brushed off, but Steve, never one to drop anything, kept going.
"I don't even know what's going on in your life." He swore to himself.
"It's fine." That didn't convince him.
"Did I miss anything big?" He said it lightly but I knew he was serious.
"Oh, you know, just the same old, same old," I took a sip of my water, looking down at the slice of cherry pie on the table in front of me. "Haven't been sleeping much lately, that came back a while ago," I grimaced, there wasn't many memories that were solid enough to count as big and my mind trailed off, watching his fingers as they traced the patterns on his cup absentmindedly.
"You thought about college?" He asked, snapping me out of my daze.
"I mean, yeah, who hasn't?"
"Where?"
I sat back, sighing. "New York ideally, but that doesn't really seem likely. I mean my dad spent practically his whole life working at a degree and now he teaches kids for a living, so who knows if it would even be worth it."
"Yeah but you're smart, why waste it?"
"I suppose fighting an eight-foot tall, inter dimensional monster puts that sort of thing into perspective," I went on, thinking aloud.
"Jesus, keep your voice down, would you?" Steve hissed, nervous eyes flitting around the practically deserted dinner.
"What, we're supposed to pretend like it never happened?"
"Yes," he answered seriously. "Y/n, you said so yourself, the only way is to just move on and forget." I swallowed my words at that. "And you should go to New York," Steve went on, "you've got a better shot than me, that's for sure."
"You can afford tuition," I countered with a heavy sigh.
"Get a scholarship," he said through a mouthful of pie.
"It's not that easy." A silence fell between us, not as comfortable as the night before. "What's your plan then?" I asked, breaking it.
He looked down again, swallowing his food. "I dunno."
"Steve, you'll be fine, plenty of people are successful without going to college." He shot me a pained look. Even I knew I sounded like I was reading off of a flier.
"My old man doesn't seem to think so," he replied, "But I suppose I was always just gonna end up working for him anyways".
"Your dad's an idiot," I said.
He laughed darkly. "No, he's not."
"Well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad," I suggested lightly, "you could save up some money."
"What, and stay in this shithole for the rest of my life?"
"Get a job in the city then." He didn't have anything to say in reply to that. "Stop being so melodramatic, you'll figure something out."
He let out a deep sigh, looking up at the ceiling, "... Shit".
"What?"
He breathed out again, grimacing, "Just thinking about how I gotta talk to Nance," he took a deep breath, "the more I think about it the more I keep thinking, what if she's right, you know? What if she's right and it's all just bullshit." He met my gaze again as if he expected a response but I had none. "I can't shake the feeling, you know?"
"She was just wasted." I had already said it to him before but he still wasn't buying it. 'Someone doesn't just say something like that because they're drunk,' he had argued.
"Are you seeing anyone?" He asked instead, making me freeze, eyes not moving from mine.
I cleared my throat. "Uh, no - not really."
"Why not? I mean, guys definitely wanna date you."
I laughed. "Yeah, well, none of the good ones."
Steve and I had never talked about that night at homecoming, whether or not he had believed what Carol had said. Either way it was obvious he didn't feel the same way. "Sure they do, you're great!"
"Too much baggage," I scoffed. Steve frowned for a few seconds as if trying to figure out what I meant. "I'm better off on my own."
He knew this was a lie. I hated being alone, that's why I dragged him out of bed at 3am to look at stars or made him drive me to the same diner before school everyday. He was the same way. But he didn't say it, even if he was thinking it.
"I'll get the bill," he said quietly and stood up.
The dark grey, overcast sky made the world look dismal, ominous outside the window. Hanging there as if it was watching them, waiting to unleash its floods on their heads, and I wondered if this constant feeling of dread was ever going to go away.
