Summary: Benjamin Rosales-Hopper never expected much from the small town of Hawkins. A small group of friends, persistent bullies, and former unrequited crushes were all the classic staples of what he believed would make up the rest of his high school life. However, when Will Byers disappears and strange dreams invade Ben's sleep one November night, he and his friends realize that something dark lays behind its tranquil exterior.
Pairing: Steve Harrington/Male OC
Changes to Character(s): N/A
Spoilers To: Stranger Things (S1-S4)
Type of Story: Chapter-Filled
Trigger Warnings: Homophobia, Slight Violence
Hawkins High School was full of expectations.
Your hair, your clothes, and the way you act was criticized under a big magnifying glass by every passing student. It would only take them one look at a person and the people associated with them to decide their status—falling into the stereotypical hierarchy of the rich vs the poor, the popular vs the losers, the intelligent vs the ignorant, etc.
That was why, as he neared the high school's entrance, Ben wasn't surprised when he caught Tommy Hagan's and Carol Perkins' attention from under the school's awning.
He could feel the juniors' eyes inspecting him—focusing on his multicolored, corduroy shirt layered over his graphic tee of The Smiths, the rips on his dark jeans—causing a dark pit of anxiety to form in his stomach. As he did a mental check on his outfit, he felt himself stumble as he became aware of the small squeak his converses made with every step, making the couple snicker.
"What a klutz," Carol commented as he walked by, pushing back a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. Tommy wrapped his arm around her shoulders and bent down to speak into her ear.
"Careful," he teased, sending a mocking smile at him. "We don't want to get arrested by the sheriff's son."
Ugh.
While he was grateful to be adopted by the town's chief of police, it was also a detail that was constantly used against him. Growing up, having a sheriff as a dad would have been a cool and interesting fact for young minds, but that had transformed into a cautionary tale over the years as people gained interest in underage drinking, unsupervised parties, and illegal drugs.
It was one of the many reasons he was pushed aside when he tried to associate with others his age, many believing he would snitch to his dad if he accompanied them. The idea wasn't helped by the rumors about his 'mysterious' past as a murderer's son which had been circulating since his freshman year.
He couldn't even remember the last time he was invited to a birthday party.
Rolling his eyes, Ben ignored them and entered the building, immediately seeing a familiar redhead—her back facing him as she gathered her stuff from her locker.
Barbara "Barb" Holland was one of his closest friends in school, knowing and befriending each other since the eighth grade. Like him, she was considered an outsider by most of the student body—not really one to fit into their town's societal norms. She kept her hair short, preferred studying and video games, and was rather outspoken about modern feminism.
This all made people believe there was something off about her, her way of life not typical for a teenage girl.
However, it was also one of the reasons they remained close friends. Their otherness made them the perfect odd pair that gave way for their friendship to grow and last till this day. Along with Nancy, they were able to combat the students' harsh yet ridiculous rumor mill and have a normal school experience.
On the other hand, he honestly believed that if they hadn't become friends with the Wheeler girl (whose popularity rose with each passing day), they would've suffered a lot more under the school's pressure.
Ben tapped the shoulder of her ruffled, plaid shirt and smiled at the sight of her glasses. "Hey, Barb. How's it going?"
"Hey," Barb said cheeringly, closing her locker. She shifted her binder to one arm as she faced him. "I'm here, living. How've you been?"
"As well as you think," he groaned, leaning against the lockers. "Nearly got in trouble for coming home late and barely made any progress in math."
"I thought you were studying with Nance last night?" she said, a slight frown on her face. "She told me you were over at her house."
"Yeah, but it seems she had other things to worry about other than tutoring me."
"Hmm." Barbara reached over and squeezed his arm in a comforting manner, knowing what he meant. "I'm sure it's nothing. She and Steve are in the honeymoon stage of their relationship. I'm sure she'll return to us soon."
"Well," Ben said with a sigh, "until then, I have something else to blame Harrington for."
"I don't understood what you have against him," the redhead said, raising an eyebrow at him. She looked at the door as Tommy and Carol entered the school, a look of disgust forming on her face. "Sure, I may not think he's good news, but you appear to take it more . . . personally."
Ben tried to keep his face blank at her words.
His history with Harrington was something he didn't like getting into. It was a time full of soured and tear-filled memories that tarnished his freshman year. He never truly recovered from the feelings of betrayal, worsened by Steve's several attempts at rekindling their friendship. It was a hopeless task now that his emotions burned with anger at the sight of Hawkins' king.
"It's nothing," he said casually, hoping it didn't hold any bitterness. "It's just guy stuff. Testosterone and all—Oh, look, it's Wheeler!"
Nancy walked through the entrance, not really looking at the people around her as she traveled through the hallway. She nodded at someone in greeting, not noticing them until the two friends joined her.
"So, did he call?" Barb asked her, continuing the conversation he heard the previous night.
Nancy's eyes brightened at the question, making him uneasy on making any negative comments. This was Wheeler's first meaningful relationship—whether she saw it as that or not—and he didn't want to be that guy in the group. She was clearly happy with him, and he didn't want to be the one to ruin that . . . no matter how he felt.
He mentally sighed, already regretting the act he was going to put on.
"He obviously did," Ben teased, trying a light tone. A sour taste appeared in his mouth at the idea of talking kindly about Steve. "She wouldn't have dressed up so nicely if he hadn't."
Nancy ducked her head down in embarrassment. "Keep your voices down."
"Well, did he?" the redhead questioned further, stopping when they arrived at the brunette's locker.
"I told you guys, it's not like that," Nancy said, shaking her head; a smile graced her face as she entered her combination. At the look of disbelief from her friends, she continued. "Okay, I mean, yes, fine, he likes me, you know, but not like that. We just . . . made out a couple times."
"'We just made out a couple times,'" Barb mocked, leaning on the adjacent door locker. "Jesus, you're gonna be so cool now it's ridiculous—"
"No, I'm not!"
Ben gently bumped the brunette's shoulder. "We all know Harrington doesn't pay attention to just anyone. You'll be the school's queen in no time."
"Okay, Rosales-Hopper," Nancy started, laughter mixed in with her words, "whatever you say. I could say the same thing about you and Chrissy the Cheerleader. Don't think I didn't see you two flirting yesterday in study hall."
"We were just talking, you creep," Ben said. "Plus, she has a boyfriend. You and Steve are a whole different story. With his popularity, you're going to gain a whole group of friends, start going to parties . . ."
"He's right," Barb interjected. "You better still hang out with us, that's all I'm saying. If you become friends with Carol and Tommy H—"
Nancy furrowed her eyebrows in amusement. "Gross. And I'm telling you, this was just a one-time—two-time thing, alright?"
The conversation stopped when Nancy pulled out a note from her locker. She opened it and the piece of paper only held four words:
Meet me. Bathroom.
- Steve
"You were saying," Barbara said smugly.
• - • - • - •
Lunch was one of Ben's least favorite time of the day. It was the only moment in his schedule in which he didn't have his friends to accompany him, only having music to rely on to fill their space.
Per usual, the teen found himself sitting on the bed of his truck, eating whatever he packed for the day and staring blankly at the brick walls of their school. He had already caught up with the day's homework, so there wasn't much for him to do at this point except play Duran Duran's "Friends of Mine" from his Walkman.
He took a bite of his sandwich, bobbing his head along with the rhythm of the song.
Reaching behind him, Ben grabbed his bag to search for a book he was reading—deciding it was the best time as any to finish it—when he heard the sound of footsteps through the music.
Unfortunately for him, Barb and Nancy were not scheduled the same lunch as him. This, however, left the universe with enough motive to place him in the same lunch period as Steve Harrington and his crew, who coincidentally decided to have a smoke break outside at that very moment.
"Oh, look," Tommy spat, appearing from behind him and swiping his headphones off his head—throwing them somewhere to the side. The junior boy pushed him forward, knocking the sandwich from his hands from the sudden force. With some quick thinking, Ben managed to stop himself from falling onto the ground and glared at the boy. "It's the fag."
Carol giggled, letting out a puff of smoke. "Tom, stop it. He's going to infect you with the homo disease."
Steve didn't say anything, walking behind the couple as he flicked his lighter's cap on and off in his hand. Fire appeared and disappeared in a continuous pattern, a meaningless distraction for the future prom king.
It was a tactic they both knew well.
The repetitive action was a shield from the awful deeds Harrington's friends would throw upon the sheriff's son. In a timely manner, he would take out the small device minutes before his distress. No matter what Tommy and Carol would say, Steve would keep his eyes on the yellow flame—lost to its mesmerizing dance.
Looking at him was overwhelming.
Despite the anger and hatred, Ben couldn't deny he was attractive.
The pimple-faced middle schooler he once knew had transformed into a handsome young man. His hair was slicked and cut into a pompadour hairstyle (a feature that many adored and nicknamed him after). His skin was basically flawless with a few scattered moles decorating his broad face, giving him a youthful glow. His eyes shined with mischief and his smile was equipped with charm.
Yet, at this time, his smile that was nowhere in sight.
Instead, a look of guilt took its place.
Ben didn't let the other boy's silence bother him for long—even if his heart ached because of it. He walked away from them, hoping that the distance and his indifference would make them leave him alone, not even pausing to see the state of his stuff. All he wanted was a safe space, a place away from them.
. . . Away from him.
Instead of letting him go, however, his defiance only appeared to infuriate them more.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!"
The younger teen didn't turn around. Knowing that by doing so, he would only be playing into the boy's antics. However, his thoughts were frantic.
Fear seized every inch of his body until it reach down into the depths of his lungs—making it harder to breathe with every step he took. For a split second, Ben felt like he was back in his dream, running away from a monster. Except, this monster was real and human.
Maybe, even scarier than the imaginary one.
Leave me alone, he wanted to scream. Leave me alone! Leave me alone!
He felt Tommy H. shove him once more, his anger present clear with the force. He continued to ignore him, only feeling the shoves and pokes of the teen's hands on him. With some effort and determination, he made it halfway to the building until he felt a burning sensation sting his neck.
Ben hissed at the sharp pain. Confused, he turned around to see Tommy holding a cigarette, a pouting Carol at his side.
He cupped the back of his neck as his brain scrambled to figure out what happened.
Shock filled his veins when he finally pieced it together.
Tommy and Carol may have done a lot of things to him, but they have never done anything to physically harm him—especially in such a public place.
It took him another second to realize that Steve was holding the other boy's wrist with a disgruntled look on his face. His grip on the Hagan boy turned his knuckles a painful shade of white, making his tormentor flinch at his friend's harsh grasp.
"What the hell, Tommy?" Harrington hissed, throwing the lit bud from his hand and onto the parking lot floor. He squashed the stick with his shoe before releasing the other boy. "What do you think you're doing?"
"He can't just fucking ignore me—"
Steve knocked him back. "Do you know what they will do to us if they find out we burned someone on school grounds? They'll want to talk to our parents, and I can't deal with that shit right now."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hagan mocked as he shoved him back in return, spit flying from his mouth. "Is little baby Harrington scared of what daddy might say? Woe is me, King Steve—"
"Don't fucking test me."
"I'll do what I want!"
"Hey," Carol shouted, catching everyone's attention. She gestured across the parking lot to where the middle school stood. "We got to go, boys. The sheriff is here."
They all turned in the direction she was pointing at and saw Jim Hopper climbing out of his squad car, a deep frown on his face. Two other officers joined him and made their ways towards the neighboring building. Knowing the potential trouble they were in, the junior couple rushed towards the cafeteria doors—arguing with one another as they went in—leaving Steve and Ben alone in the parking lot.
For a second, it looked like Steve had opened his mouth as if to speak, but he awkwardly stopped at the scathing look on the shorter teen's face. Conflicted, the older boy gazed back at the school for a moment before turning his attention back to him. "I'm sorry."
Ben scoffed. "Whatever."
"I told him not to mess with you," the other boy insisted, pushing his hair back in frustration. The taller boy took a step towards him with a pleading look, but a flash of hurt crossed his eyes when the other stepped back. "I tried to get him to stay inside, but Carol—"
"Just stop it," Ben cried, fighting off the angry tears welling in his eyes. He rubbed his arms to fight the sudden chill that overtook him. He didn't want to talk to him; he didn't want to be standing out there with him.
Not now.
Not ever.
He felt a hand clasp his shoulder and staggered back. "I don't need this right now, Steve. Just go."
Steve winced at the action, retracting his hand. "Benji, please."
They stared at each other for a minute—waiting for . . . for what he didn't know. Harrington gave him one final look before making his way back towards the cafeteria, the sound of his footsteps echoing across the air.
Ben wiped his eyes before heading back to his truck, feeling mentally and physically drained. He picked up his headphones from the ground and took a seat at the back of his pickup, taking deep breaths to calm him down.
He closed his eyes and laid down on cargo bed.
Once his nerves were still, Ben grabbed his bag and closed the vehicle's tailgate—deciding it was best to head to class early. He didn't want to risk another encounter with the terrible trio on the way.
As he crossed the parking lot, he couldn't help but stare at his dad's patrol car.
What was his dad doing in Hawkins Middle?
• - • - • - •
News of Will's disappearance spread through the school like wildfire.
Someone overheard one of the middle schoolers talking about the sheriff's visit during their break—and in small town fashion—the story sparked interest amongst the teen population.
Students would gossip over the latest news in sick excitement, turning the town's first major incident into nothing but a source of entertainment. It only worsened when their principal called Ben to his office where the Chief of Police, not his father, was waiting to interview him.
He tried to remember his last moments with the boy: the game of D&D, studying with Nancy, and his denied suggestion to give the boys a ride. As he spoke, his dad only nodded while Officer Callahan wrote down the details.
"Okay," Hopper said, telling his partners to wait for him in the cruiser. Once they were alone, his dad walked him to the hallway, a stern look on his face. "I want you to go straight home, okay? I'm not risking anymore kids going missing, especially my own."
"I can help," Ben said, using the same tone. "I was responsible for Will that night, and I failed him. I have to help."
His dad scowled. "I want you straight home. Got it?"
"But—"
"No buts."
Once the final bell rang, he immediately jumped into his truck and made his way towards the Byers household—his chest tightening the closer he got. The neighborhood was silent as he drove through the empty streets. At this point, the town had received the notification from their kids and the police station of a potential runaway or kidnapping, making parents worry about their kids' outings.
This led to a full lock down in every family household in Hawkins.
Ben parked his car in the gravel driveway of the one-story building, its surface beaten and aged. He approached the front door inspecting the familiar cracks and stains of the wooden door, smiling when he saw the initials J.B. and B.R.H. carved on the doorframe.
It had been a long time since he had set foot on the property, but it felt like no time had passed—suddenly feeling like a kid again.
A minute after knocking on the door, the entryway opened to reveal a distressed Jonathon Byers: his messy hair was even more disheveled than usual and his eyes appeared to be tired, gazing at him like he was seeing through glass rather than a person. The devastated teen furrowed his eyebrows, finally realizing who was at the door.
"Hey, stranger," Ben said with a small smile, lightly kicking the paved porch as he tried to look for something else to say. "Long time, no see."
Jonathon's expression lit up for a moment before returning to one of forlorn. "Ben! Hey. I-It's good to see you. I—Come in."
The teen entered the living room and a wave of memories crashed over him. He remembered the countless sleepovers they would have in the living room, making forts out of the couch cushions. He could smell the cookies he helped Ms. Byers bake during their Christmas Eve party while her two boys were busy with decorating.
Every little thing in the room brought forth another special moment spent in the house.
A time when they were innocent kids instead of worried teenagers.
Before he could wander anymore into the past, Jonathon motioned him towards the living room and asked him to take a seat. The other boy closed the door before timidly walking behind Ben, picking up discarded items from the floor.
"It looks like the house hasn't change much," Ben joked lightly. He sat down on the striped couch, catching sight of handmade missing posters on the coffee table—the picture of Will smiling up at him. "Need help with these?"
Jonathon nodded, taking a seat next to him. "Yeah, I would appreciate it."
They remained in silence as they worked on the signs, occasionally making small talk in between posters. After several stacks of sheets, they decided to take a small break and watch TV. However, it was clear that the Byers boy wasn't interested in watching a rerun of He-Man. The boy was lost in his thoughts—bouncing his leg and twiddling his thumbs with nervous energy.
Ben sighed, wishing he could find the best way to ease his childhood friend, and gently bumped his shoulder. "Um, where's your mom?"
"She went to buy more material for the . . ." the other boy said, looking at his marker-stained hands. He closed his eyes for a moment, his breath heavy. "Yeah."
"How are—How are you doing?"
"I'm . . . fine."
"Jon."
"N-no. I 'm seriously fine. We will—We will find him," Jonathon stuttered, trying to assure him despite the tear streaming down his face. He looked down at the missing posters, his posture steadily slouching until his elbows were on his knees and his hands were supporting his head, painful cries falling from his lips.
Ben wrapped his arms around the boy and held him tightly, his heartbreaking sobs too painful to hear. He didn't dare let go, letting his arms burn and ache from tiredness as his friend processed his emotions. They remained in that position until the shuddering boy had calmed down, the episode ending in the background.
"Sorry," Jonathon muttered, wiping his nose with his shirt. "Thank you for coming over. I really appreciate the help."
"I thought you'd enjoy some company," Ben said, giving him a final squeeze before letting him go. "Even if it's one from a shitty friend."
There were a few things that he regretted when it came to his high school experience, and one of the biggest ones was drifting away from his childhood best friend.
Their parents had known each other since they were teens; so naturally, they spent a lot of time together as kids. They were close—nearly brothers—until they entered the halls of Hawkins High. It was when Ben began to explore his own interests while the Byers boy remained in the background, not one to float amongst different social circles.
Before he knew it, they had lost communication with one another.
They no longer made mixtapes of their favorite music to share with each other. They didn't spend their weekends staying up late to watch R-rated movies. They didn't even speak to each other unless it was in passing. It was all gone. All the things they ever did dwindled down to childhood memories.
He blamed himself for not reaching out sooner, especially now.
"You're not shitty."
"Jonathon . . . I haven't talked or hung out with you since eighth grade," Ben pointed out, staring down at his feet. "I would consider that a pretty shitty move from a very shitty person. "
"Well, you're here now," he said, nudging his side with a sad smile, "so it's a little more of a smear now than a sh—"
Abruptly, the door burst open to reveal a short woman carrying a bunch of construction paper in her arms, closing the door with her hip. "I'm back! I didn't have a lot on me, but I'll go back for more supplies after I call Lonnie."
Joyce Byers was an amazing woman, always kind and sweet to anyone she meets. You would only hear how wonderful she was from anyone she had ever interacted with, a beautiful woman with a beautiful personality.
However, it was clear that Will's disappearance was taking a toll on her—worry was carved into her face and her movements were nervous, almost sporadic. Her clothes were wrinkled and stained, her hair was an unbrushed mess. Her eyes glimmered with uncertainty as she stared at the two boys.
"Oh, Ben," Ms. Byers said, setting the materials onto the coffee table. She tried to put on a kind smile, but the effort looked painful. "It's been a while. You've gotten so big since I last saw you."
"Yeah, it's good to see you again."
She excused herself, making her way towards the phone jack before calling her ex-husband. It was clear that her efforts were futile when the responder (Lonnie's newest girlfriend) hung up at her frantic argument. While his mother redialed the number, Jonathon tried to tell her to calm down—distracting himself by working on a new poster.
Joyce ignored him and left Lonnie an annoyed voicemail.
Ben had reached over for a new sheet when he heard some noise coming from outside the house. Jonathon was the first to notice the patrol car in the driveway and quickly notified his mom. The trio made their way to the porch, seeing Hopper pull something from the back of the patrol car.
He felt his heart drop at the sight.
It was Will's bike.
