You do come back the next day, and your smile is friendlier. A connection has been made between us, the point of contact. You don't come over to talk, which is fine. You go straight to the cafe and sit down to get into your laptop. We have a date later, so I don't push. You have to study, and I have to work.

We continue with our separate assignments even if we keep catching each other's eye. Each time is like a jolt of electricity. It's addicting. It's a good thing my uncle owns the place, or I would have to fire myself for being so distracted. But who can blame me when you're here?

You're leaving early today. It's a surprise when you pack up at midday and come over during a lull. "I've got a class, but I'll see you tonight. I'll get us an Uber and pick you up at seven?"

"Sounds good."

The bell chimes as the door opens, and it's Will. He smiles and gives us a wave, laughing when Gareth attacks him. "Hey, I missed you too, babe."

"It's been days!"

"I know, I know. The convention was amazing, by the way."

"Tell me everything." Gareth dragged him over to one of the tables, even pulling a chair out for him. He's love-struck and smiling like a fool, but he's happy. Will is a nice guy. Quiet but charming, and they are good together.

You look surprised, and I raise an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"I know him."

"You do?" Now I'm surprised but sceptical. How could you possibly know Will?

"I used to babysit these kids when I was younger. There was a whole bunch of them and... Will Byers?" He calls the name.

Will looks up, eyes widening in surprise and excitement. "Steve?!" He's up instantly, hurrying over to hug you with a laugh of disbelief. "What are you doing here, man? It's good to see you!"

"You too. So you're the infamous Will, huh? Gareth never stops talking about you."

Gareth goes red from across the room and scowls at you.

Will goes red too and shrugs in embarrassment. "I guess so. I was at a Dungeons and Dragons convention the last week, and we were on holiday the week before, which is probably why we haven't seen each other yet. How long have you known about this place?"

"A couple of weeks."

"Yeah? It's nice, isn't it? That's how Gareth dragged me in." Will smiles as Gareth joins us and leans into him when he puts an arm around his shoulders. "Charmed me with his coffee and cupcakes. Here we are, eight months later."

"Wow, that's amazing, you guys." You seem genuinely excited for them, and it's nice. You can be happy for others without feeling jealous, and who knows, maybe one day that will be us too. "What about the others?"

And my mind is blown.

The 'kids' you used to babysit were the same ones in my old club. The realisation that dawns on your face moments after my own revelation is almost comical. "Hellfire Club was yours?"

"Holy shit," I laugh, and you join in. "I can't believe we didn't meet before!" We really are perfect for each other. It's a shame we didn't meet earlier because we could have years together by now. "Better late than never."

Your smile softens at the words.

Gareth nudges Will with a snicker, and the moments is over. I glare at him, but he just shrugs. Will, however, catches on as he looks between us in surprise. He smiles and tugs on Gareth's hand to lead him away. "Let me bore you with more details about the convention. Nice to see you again, Steve."

"You too, Will." When they're out of earshot, you turn back to me and drumroll on the counter. "You ready for tonight?"

"Depends. What kind of party is this?"

"The rich kind. Wear something nice." You laugh as I blanch. "It'll be fine, Eddie, I promise. Not all rich kids are douchebags. It's my friend's party, Tommy Hagen. He's cool, I promise."

"You better hold my hand because I do not hang around students."

You brighten at the words, holding out his hand. I take it, and it's pure bliss, the way your fingers close over mine. "If you want me to, sure." And then you're pulling free, and my hand is cold. "Tonight at seven. Don't forget."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

You wave goodbye to Gareth and Will as you leave. It's only six hours until I see you again. I'll be fine. We have a date tonight - our first date.

Knowing this makes the day go faster, and before long, I am locking up the shop and walking home. It's only thirty minutes, so why waste money on the bus?

Wayne was already home. He retired from the shop last year after falling from a ladder, trying to stock the shelves and hurting his back. He still comes in occasionally, but now he spends most days tending to his beloved garden. It's probably the nicest place in the Westside, and it's just for us.

He looks up and smiles when I walk in, hands and face still dirty from working outside all day. "How's the shop?"

"You know how it is, Wayne. Always busy. The books are selling, and Gareth's cakes are the talk of the town."

"Ha," he snorts, and he sits up with a groan. He waves off my helping hand with a gruff, "I'm okay, I'm okay. Not dead yet."

"Take more than a fall to kill you."

"So, you staying in tonight?"

"No, I actually... have a date."

Wayne's face lights up at the news. It's been a long time. "Really? What's the kid's name?"

"Steve."

"About time, Eds. After Billy..." he trails off, eyeing me in worry, but I only laugh.

"Billy is ancient history, Wayne. You want anything from the kitchen?"

"Another beer will do me just fine."

With Wayne happy and sated, it's time to prepare for our date - the things I do for you, Steve. Even choosing a shirt is hard work. You said to dress nice but how nice? In the end, a black dress shirt seems the best choice and dark jeans. Hopefully, it's good enough for you. I don't have a lot of options or expensive ones.

Wayne tips his beer and smiles when I'm back downstairs. "You're gonna kill it, Eds."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence. I'll be quiet later when I'm home."

"Be good to him."

"Of course."

It's cold outside, but it doesn't detract from my excitement. Once you arrive, you'll bring the warmth with you. Sure enough, at precisely seven, an Uber pulls up outside the shop. You're punctual. Inside you take both my hands and rub some warmth back into them, laughing about how I should have gone inside instead of waiting in the cold. In my excitement, I forgot the keys, but I wasn't about to tell you that and laughed it off too.

We leave the main streets of Indianapolis behind, heading up into Meridian Hills, and I've never been up here before. The people here could probably smell the public school on me. But then you squeeze my hand, and I let out a breath, forcing myself to relax.

"Relax," you say as if you can read my mind. "It's a party. Enjoy it!"

"Remember your promise, Steve."

You roll your eyes but keep a firm grip on my hand. The party is already in full swing by the time you lead me inside the large house. The grand front door had been daunting enough, but the people inside were another story.

"Nearly everyone here is a Bulldog," you explain, leaning close to be heard over the techno music. It was worth listening to with your lips almost pressed to my ear. At my blank expression, you smile. "Butlers. I was planning to go, but my dad was insistent about Kelley's. Family tradition."

"Yeah?"

You nod, leading the way as we weave through the tight pack of students. Most were already drunk, and a few called out to you, but you only smiled in greeting and kept moving. Up a spiral staircase, you push open a set of double doors and drag me inside, quickly shutting them behind us with a sigh.

It was a library. Three of the four walls were full of books from floor to ceiling. Expensive ones too.

"Tommy's father is a collector." You pull one off the shelves and smile, holding it out. "My favourite."

It was an old copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, probably a first edition. The yellowing pages were stiff as I turned them carefully.

"Something about the insanity of the place, I loved it. The fact that there's no real meaning behind the story always amazed me. My dad hates it, though, thinks it promotes drug use." You laugh softly and take the book back, returning it to its place carefully. "I like the passion behind it, how Carol said it basically wrote itself, and he just preserved it."

You are so much more than the son of a tycoon. You're passionate and hopeful, and you want freedom. Why else would a story about a child who ran away and found another world appeal to you?

The door opens before I can respond, and it's Tommy. He puts an arm around you to pull you close, and the look he gives me is anything but welcoming. So much for being friends. "Hey, Stevie, about time you showed up. Who's your friend?"

"Tommy, hey! This..." and you break free, pressing into my side. "...is Eddie."

"Nice to meet you." I hold my hand, and he looks at it like a dead fish before slowly shaking it.

"You too, man. How long have you known our Stevie here?"

"Uh, couple of weeks now?"

You nudge my shoulder with a light laugh, and your touch is instant gratification. "More like a month. Eddie works at the place I go to do my thesis. I told you about it, remember?"

"Right. So you're a salesman?"

"Manager."

"Wow. Not every day you meet a working class citizen."

Fuck this guy. Everyone is a working-class citizen if you're not an elitist. At least I earn my shit. Everything here is owned by his family, including his clothes. Mine may not be as fancy, but I own them.

"Tommy," you say, rolling your eyes at him. "Don't be an ass."

"Where is this place then? I might stop by sometime and see what all the hype is about."

As if. But you've got your phone out to find the address even though I could tell the prick. "Is this it?" You hand it over for me to check.

"Yeah, Kappes Street."

Tommy grabs your hand now you've let me go, and his smile is sharp, dangerous. "I'm stealing, Stevie for just a second. Can't have him all to yourself. It's a party! Everyone wants to say hi."

You manage to mouth, 'sorry,' as you're pulled out the door.

I'm left standing there with your phone in the silence. Well, it's easier than trying to steal it. It takes only minutes to install the app on your phone, and by the time you come back, it's all setup and ready to go. When I get home tonight, I'll have access to everything on your device.

Honestly, how are these apps legal? Marketed as child safety, we all know what they really are, designed to control and monitor - those poor children. You will never know what I did. There's no app on your phone, and as long as I'm careful, you won't suspect me.

But for now, I take your hand and let you drag me back into the party.

Everyone is singing Sweet Caroline - bite me - and it's hell, trying to make small talk with Bulldog people. Their reactions all boil down to three outcomes when they find out I'm only a high school graduate; surprise and disgust. Honestly, all these people, and it's like talking to the same person repeatedly.

"...so you never went to college?..."

"...you sound smart for a high school graduate!..."

"...you can actually live on minimum wage?..."

"...you dress nice for a city boy..."

Carbon copy female five laughs like carbon copy female two, and I've got a headache.

You squeeze my hand when I rub my head, pushing a glass of water onto me. "Here, drink this. What's wrong?"

"You know too many Bulldogs."

"Okay, maybe that's true," you laugh, rubbing a firm hand between my shoulder blades. "How about some liquid courage?"

This time, you hand me a shot and, with a cocky smile, clink our glasses together and down yours. I do too, wincing as the tequila burns down my throat, and you laugh, plucking the shot glass away.

"Come on, dance with me."

"I, uh-"

You don't wait for an answer but pull me to my feet and step in close. Arms around my neck, mine around your waist, the way you move it's suggestive, and your fingers in my hair are not helping. I don't want to do this, not in front of all these people and This. Isn't. You.

"Wait."

The word is like a red light, and you freeze, pulling back to look at me in confusion. And then you blush, breaking away. "Shit, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have... that was stupid. Fuck."

"Steve-"

"I'm not usually like this, I swear. You just make me so nervous and..." you cut yourself off with a laugh, running a hand through your hair. "...you must think I'm a slut, huh?"

"No." Well, a little. You are sleeping around with your best friend behind his girlfriend's back. You don't need to do that anymore, Steve. I'm right here. "Can we go outside?"

The garden is massive. I can't see the end of it in the darkness as we sit on the back steps smoking. It's quieter out here, and finally, I have you to myself. But the words aren't flowing between us. You've closed up. Embarrassed by your earlier display, you won't look at or touch me.

"You're not a slut." is what I finally say, and it's the right thing.

Your shoulders shake with a quiet laugh, and although your smile is small, a smile is a smile. "Tell that to all the guys in there. You know, I've slept with at least half of them?"

I blink at you, and you flick ash into a tray.

"Doesn't matter. Sex is sex. It's all the same. Have you ever had a good orgasm? I mean, a really good one? Only one guy has ever done that for me, and well..."

He's dating Carol?

"...it didn't work out." You finish your cigarette, steal mine from between my lips and breathe it in. Our first kiss. "Maybe I'm just looking for something that doesn't exist."

"So you're giving up on love?"

Your lips quirk slightly, and you hand back the cigarette. "You think it exists?"

Yes. It's you. But I can't say that it's too soon. "Maybe."

"Wouldn't peg you for the type." I raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh, hooking a finger under my chain wallet to tug at it. "Real romantic type, aren't you."

"I can be. For the right person."

And there it is again. Your expression softens, and there's the real you, hopeful but jaded. You've been stung so many times it must be hard to open up, but you are. Little by little, your defences will soften, and you'll let me in.

You look down at my lips as you lean in, and it's perfect, the right moment for our real first kiss. Then the patio door slams open, and we jump apart like school children expecting to be scolded.

It's Carol. She's been crying, and mascara stains her cheeks. She sits between us and throws herself into your arms, tears beginning anew. It's discerning, and you shrug at me over her head.

I was right. You are a lover. You wrap Carol up in your arms and coo reassurances until she's hiccuping quietly. Her hair is silky smooth from where you've untangled the knots, and she manages a small smile. "Thanks. Sorry."

"It's okay. What happened?"

"Oh, it's Tommy," she scoffs as if this is normal. You don't look surprised, so maybe it is. "He's doing coke again. He promised he wouldn't anymore, but..." Her lower lip trembles, and you pull her back into your arms.

For someone who seems to care about her, you sure don't have a problem sleeping with her boyfriend. But hey, maybe she knows.

"Something is up with him. He's about to go off the rails again, I know it."

"No, he won't. Tommy just made a mistake. He'll be grovelling at your feet come morning."

She laughs wetly and wipes her face with a tissue. She looks up as she sniffles, and her eyes widen when she sees me. Did she not even notice you had company? "Oh! Hello..."

"Hi."

"This is Eddie. He's my date." You smile in embarrassment as she slaps your shoulder and thankfully moves to your other side so we're together again.

"I didn't know you had a date! Sorry, Eddie, I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Not at all. You needed Steve, and well, he gives good hugs."

She laughs, and maybe not all your friends are assholes. "He's nice," she tells you approvingly, and your blush darkens.

This is important to you, isn't it? You want your friends to like me. Well, Tommy is a definite no but Carol… I can work with that. If her opinion matters to you, then I'll make it happen.

She's calmer now and, surprisingly, a good conversation buffer. "I'm serious. Steve loves the Back to the Future movies!"

And I'm learning a lot about you. She's been your friend almost as long as Tommy has, which makes what you two are doing behind her back all the more confusing. Maybe one day you'll tell me why when you no longer need Tommy.

Speak of the devil.

Tommy crashes through the doorway and stumbles over, eyes wide, and face flushed. "Here you are!" He trips, landing half on Carol and half on you.

This is what you love? Some rich douchebag who can't stay sober?

But you roll your eyes in apparent disgust and shove him away and then scoot closer to my side. "Sober up, Tommy. I can't believe you're doing coke again."

"It was just one bump. Lighten up, Stevie. It's a party!" He laughs, head cradled in Carol's lap, and she starts stroking back his hair. "When did you become such a mood killer?"

"When did you become such a junkie?"

"Don't act like you haven't done coke too!"

You glower at him, embarrassed to be called out like that. It doesn't matter, Steve, really. We're not all saints, and you have a history. I've seen the photos from your party days back when you were an undergraduate, hell when you were a senior. A different girl at every party and eyes blown wide with more than just alcohol. You've been sober for a while, I think, and maybe it's a good thing we didn't meet until now.

I've done bad things in the past too. When we're older, when you trust me, I'll tell you everything.

But it's our first date, and we should be having fun. I stand and hold out a hand to you. "Come on."

You raise an eyebrow, but take it and let me lead you inside. The party is still going. Most of the Bulldogs are crowded around a long table and snorting powder through candy-coloured straws, and it is like Wonderland, isn't it?

"Do you want to stay, or can I show you what I think is a good time?"

"Let's get out of here."

Nobody notices us leave.

It's quiet on the streets. Up here in Meridian Hills, curfew has come and gone, and Tommy's house is one of the few with the lights still on. I hail a cab, and within twenty minutes, we're back in the city. The party is still going down here, drunk students stumbling around and club music around every corner.

Kebab Shack is still open. It's Wayne's favourite takeaway in the city, and he's right to think so. You look sceptical as you stare at the shabby, peeling letters overhead the entrance.

"Trust me. The food is to die for."

Half an hour later, you enthusiastically agree with me as we sit on a park bench and finish our greasy food. You laugh and smear garlic sauce across your upper lip, and it's one of the most attractive things I've ever seen. "What, do I have something on my face?"

"A little."

You scrub it away with your sleeve and shrug. Who would guess you're a Harrington?

"I'll concede, it's pretty good."

"It's Wayne's favourite, so be sure to mention that to him."

"Oh, do I need brownie points for your uncle?" You lean into me and smile. "You gonna take me home to meet him after this?"

"Nah. He's already asleep. Besides, you're far too immodest to be meeting the parents."

"Me? What about you? My mom would have a heart attack if I took you home dressed like that! She thinks leather is for biker gangs."

"Don't knock it until you try it."

Your fingers slide under my jacket, pushing it back onto my shoulders, and your smile is too sinful. "You think I can pull it off?"

"Bad boy Steve Harrington? Sure."

I let you take the jacket and shrug it on. It's a good look on you, and I like seeing you wear my clothes. You smile and hide your face in the collar, inhaling deeply. "Mmm, smells like an ashtray."

"Give it back then."

"No." You take it off, only to throw me your Members Only jacket, and it's the most expensive thing I've ever worn. Probably the only name-brand thing I've ever worn. It smells like you, and I'm not returning it. You laugh and do up the zipper, fingers dancing across my chin like lightning, but then you scoot back. "We should get going. Walk me home?"

I do walk you home.

We linger on your doorstep, and you're shy again. "This was fun. Forget the stupid party next time."

"So I get a second date?"

"Yeah," you laugh and pull my jacket tighter when the breeze picks up.

I should let you go inside. It's our first date, so I won't follow you in. It should mean something when we do get to fuck. "Goodnight, Steve."

You hesitate, turn to glance at the darkened interior and bite your lip. "You sure you don't wanna come in?"

"It's late, and... you've got school tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"You should get some sleep."

When I step back, you fist my shirt and yank me in. Your lips are soft and infinitely yielding against mine. Suddenly, the night wasn't so cold; stood with you on the front steps. When we break apart, you smile and smooth out the creases you made in my shirt.

"Night, Eddie. I'll see you soon?"

"You know where to find me."

With one last chase kiss, you go inside. I lick my lips, the taste of you still on them and resist the urge to shout like an idiot. Instead, I head across the street to my stool. I have to know what you're doing, how you're reacting to our first kiss. Surely it was amazing for you too.

You are on your phone when I sit down. You're smiling, biting your knuckle as you stare at the screen. I pull out my phone and access the app to find you're texting Tommy.

Tommy H - [11:13 PM]

Who the fuck was that tonight? You're bringing street rats to my parties now?

Steve - [11:15 PM]

Don't be insensitive, Tommy. Eddie's a friend.

My heart sinks at the word. Friend. You just kissed me, but you're telling the guy you're sleeping with I'm your friend.

Tommy H - [11:15 PM]

So you're not fucking him?

Steve - [11:16 PM]

I never said that.

Tommy H - [11:16 PM]

Bullshit.

Steve - [11:16 PM]

Come over and find out.

And no. This isn't how it's supposed to go, Steve.

You're supposed to be thinking about me, not your fuck buddy. He doesn't even care about you. But he's the one in your flat, inside you. It's his name you're moaning, not mine. You fuck him on your couch but not in your bed, so you can't really love him. Right?

But you don't love me either.

After your ultimately meaningless fuck, Tommy leaves, and you're out on your balcony smoking. In the streetlights, the tears on your cheeks sparkle. It's painful to watch, Steve. I want to come over there and brush them away, make you feel better, but I can't.

Tommy is inside you, in your head. And whilst he's there, we don't stand a chance.

Tommy has to go.