The last month had been strange for Steve Harrington. Everything felt slightly off, like the world had shifted, and he was left trying to find his balance. Things with Nancy weren't bad—at least, not on the surface—but something had changed. She was distracted, distant in a way that he couldn't quite reach. Steve could feel something brewing beneath the surface, something that made him uneasy.

Still, that wasn't the only thing on his mind.

Ever since that night at the end of the summer, DoveHenderson had become a regular part of his thoughts. He hadn't paid much attention to the rumors when they first started—they always flew around Hawkins High, and most of them were garbage anyway. But it wasn't long before he started hearing Dove's name linked with BillyHargrove, and suddenly the rumors weren't just noise in the background.

Steve remembered that night vividly. He had been driving home from Nancy's when he spotted Dove walking down the street, her face pale and her eyes rimmed with tears. She had refused a ride, and though he had offered her a handkerchief and tried to comfort her, she had been distant—like she was too lost in whatever had happened to her.

That was the same night the rumors started. According to Billy, he and Dove had hooked up after seeing a movie together, but Steve knew better. He didn't know the full story, but he knew that when he saw Dove that night, she hadn't looked happy. She had looked like she was barely holding it together.

Steve didn't want to jump to conclusions, but the more he saw Billy smirking in the hallways, bragging to his friends, the more he realized that something was seriously wrong. Billy was lying—Steve was sure of that much. But what actually happened between them, Dove hadn't said, and Steve wasn't about to press her on it. He just kept his eyes open, watching the way she seemed to shrink into herself every day as the rumors spread, like she was trying to disappear.

He hadn't talked to Nancy about it. Things between them were already complicated enough. Nancy was focused on her own worries—Barb's disappearance, the strange occurrences in Hawkins—and Steve didn't want to add another layer of tension to their relationship. But that didn't mean he could just ignore what was happening.

More and more, Steve found himself watching Dove from a distance, trying to piece things together. He wasn't sure why he cared so much—maybe it was because he knew what it felt like to have people talking behind his back, judging him for things that weren't true. Maybe it was because, deep down, he couldn't stand seeing Billy get away with it.

It was during one of those moments—Steve leaning against the lockers, glancing over at Nancy as she spoke with her friends—that he noticed Tina and her group approaching Dove. His gut twisted. Tina had a reputation for stirring the pot, and Steve knew that nothing good could come from whatever she was about to say.

He couldn't hear the conversation, but he saw the way Dove's face shifted from surprise to wariness. Tina, with her fake smile and her posse of friends snickering behind her, was clearly up to something. And then, to Steve's surprise, Dove nodded. She agreed to whatever Tina was suggesting.

Steve frowned, watching as Tina and her friends walked away, giggling and throwing each other knowing looks. Whatever they had planned, it wasn't good.

Dove lingered at her locker for a moment, her expression guarded. For the past month, she had kept her head down, avoiding conflict, but something was different about her today. Steve couldn't quite place it, but there was a look in her eyes—a kind of quiet determination he hadn't seen in her before.

The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, but Steve's mind was still on the exchange. He knew about Tina's Halloween Bash—everyone did. It was the kind of party where things could spiral out of control fast, especially with someone like Billy there. The last thing Dove needed was to walk into a situation that could go wrong in a hundred different ways.

But Dove didn't look scared. In fact, she looked like she was ready to face whatever was coming her way, even if it meant stepping into Tina's twisted idea of a trap.

Steve couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He knew Billy would be there, and that spelled trouble.

As students shuffled past him, Steve's eyes followed Dove as she walked away, her head held a little higher than it had been in weeks.

The sound of music pounded through the walls of Tina's house, and Dove's heart seemed to beat in time with it as she walked up the driveway. The cool October air sent a shiver down her spine, but it wasn't just the weather making her feel on edge. She adjusted the strap of her small black handbag, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her black dress—the one she'd chosen to channel Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's for the night.

It was a simple costume, understated and elegant. The dress fell just below her knees, and the pearls she wore around her neck were subtle, not meant to stand out. Her hair was pulled back in a neat bun, with a small tiara perched on top. Dove had wanted something that made her feel a little more put-together than she actually felt. The costume allowed her to blend in without drawing too much attention, but standing outside Tina's house, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the party, she wasn't sure it would be enough to shield her from what was waiting inside.

Steeling herself, Dove stepped through the door and into the chaos of the party. The smell of alcohol hit her immediately, mingling with the scent of cheap cologne and too many bodies crammed into one space. People were already shouting over the music, their voices loud and slurred, and it wasn't even late yet.

She adjusted her grip on her handbag and moved further into the house, keeping her head down as she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. The last thing she wanted was to run into anyone who'd make her night worse than it already felt.

"Dove!" Tina's voice cut through the noise, sharp and saccharine at the same time.

Dove barely had a chance to brace herself before Tina appeared in front of her, flanked by two of her friends. She was grinning, but there was nothing friendly about it.

"So glad you made it," Tina said, her eyes flicking over Dove's costume. "Wow. Audrey Hepburn, huh? Classic choice. Kinda... understated, don't you think?"

Dove forced a smile, tight and practiced. "Thanks."

Tina's smile widened, and she tilted her head, clearly enjoying the moment. "Didn't think you'd actually show up. But hey, better late than never, right?"

Dove said nothing, nodding slightly as she moved to step past Tina, determined to put some distance between them. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick, and already her nerves were beginning to fray. This was a mistake. She shouldn't have come.

She made her way toward the kitchen, hoping to find a quieter spot to collect herself, but the moment she entered the next room, her heart sank.

Billy Hargrove was leaning against the wall, surrounded by a group of his friends, a drink in his hand. He looked as effortlessly cool as always, his hair falling messily over his forehead, his eyes scanning the room like he owned it. And then, his gaze landed on her.

For a split second, Dove considered turning around and leaving. But it was too late. Billy's lips curved into a slow, predatory smirk, and before she could escape, he pushed away from the wall and made his way toward her, his swagger unmistakable.

"Dove," Billy drawled as he came to a stop in front of her. His eyes raked over her, lingering just a little too long, making her skin crawl. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Dove felt her throat tighten, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I'm just here for the party, Billy. That's all."

Billy chuckled, low and mocking. "Party, huh? Thought you didn't go to things like this." His gaze flicked to her costume, and his smirk widened. "Got all dressed up for me, did you?"

Her stomach turned. "No."

He stepped closer, the space between them shrinking, and Dove instinctively took a step back. "Come on, don't be like that," Billy said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I know you've been thinking about me. I know you liked what we did."

Dove's chest tightened. "We didn'tdoanything and you know it."

Billy's smile faded slightly, his eyes narrowing. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You sure about that?"

Before Dove could react, a new voice cut through the tension.

"Leave her alone, Billy."

Steve Harrington stepped forward, his expression hard, his eyes fixed on Billy. The entire room seemed to shift, the energy suddenly crackling with tension as the two boys faced off. Dove could feel the air thicken, her heart racing as Steve's presence became a buffer between her and Billy.

Billy's smirk returned, lazy and amused, but there was an edge to it now. "Harrington," he said, taking a slow sip from his drink. "Didn't realize it was your turn to have her."

"Just walk away," Steve said, his voice calm but firm. He didn't take his eyes off Billy, and Dove could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

Billy's eyes flicked between Steve and Dove, something dangerous flashing in his expression. "Or what?" he asked, stepping closer to Steve. "You gonna do something about it?"

Steve didn't flinch. "I said walk away."

For a moment, it looked like Billy was going to push it further. He and Steve stood face to face, the tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. People were starting to notice, glancing between them, whispering.

But then, Billy shrugged, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. "Whatever, man. She's not worth it anyway." He threw Dove a final, lingering look before turning on his heel and sauntering back toward his friends.

The moment he was gone, Dove let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her hands were shaking, and she couldn't meet Steve's eyes. She felt humiliated, exposed.

"You okay?" Steve's voice was soft now, all the tension from the confrontation gone. He stepped closer to her, his concern evident.

Dove nodded, but the lump in her throat made it hard to speak. "Thanks," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.

Just as Dove began to steady herself, a commotion from across the room drew her attention. Nancy was stumbling toward them, her steps unsteady and a half-empty cup of punch clutched in her hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glassy—clearly, she had drunk way more than she could handle.

"Steve!" Nancy called out, her voice slurring as she made her way over, almost tripping over her own feet. "Steve, what're you doing?" She looked at Dove, her expression confused and slightly accusatory.

Dove shifted awkwardly as Steve stepped in. His eyes darted from Nancy's unsteady movements to the cup of punch she was waving around dangerously.

"Nance, you're drunk," Steve said gently, stepping closer to her. "Give me the cup, okay? Let's get you some water."

Nancy frowned in annoyance. "I'm fine, Steve," she insisted, swaying slightly. "I don't need—"

Before Steve could react, Nancy jerked the cup back, and bright red punch splashed across her white blouse. The sudden shock of it made her gasp, and she looked down at the spreading stain, her frustration boiling over.

"Damn it!" she exclaimed, her voice loud and sharp. "Look what you did, Steve!"

She turned on her heel and stormed off, her movements erratic as she disappeared toward the stairs. Steve let out a long sigh, rubbing a hand across his face. He shot Dove an apologetic glance, clearly torn. "You okay?"

Dove nodded, even though she still felt unsettled. "Yeah. Go help her."

Steve hesitated for a second, his eyes soft with concern, but then he turned and hurried after Nancy, disappearing up the stairs.

Left alone, the tension that had been building inside Dove since she arrived finally began to overwhelm her. She needed to get out of the house, away from the noise, the crowd, and the oppressive weight of the night's events. Without another glance around, she made her way back to the front door and slipped outside.

The cool night air was a sharp contrast to the heat and noise inside, and Dove breathed it in like a lifeline. She stepped down the porch and stood on the sidewalk for a moment, wrapping her arms around herself as she tried to process everything that had happened. The confrontation with Billy, Steve and Nancy's fight—it was too much.

"You trying to escape, too?"

The voice was familiar, a little rough around the edges but oddly comforting. Dove turned to see Eddie Munson, leaning against the side of the house with a cigarette dangling from his fingers. He flicked the ashes casually and gave her a half-smile.

Dove exhaled slowly, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. "Something like that."

Eddie straightened up slightly, still watching her. "Yeah, these parties... not exactly built for people like us, huh?"

Dove let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "No, definitely not."

Eddie walked over, standing a little closer but keeping his distance, giving her space. He took another drag of his cigarette and eyed her for a moment before speaking again. "You looked like you were about to deck Billy back there. Almost kinda hoped you would."

Dove glanced up at him, surprised by the comment, but there was no judgment in his voice—just a bit of humor. "I wanted to," she admitted, her voice soft but steady. "But... I didn't think it would change anything."

Eddie nodded thoughtfully. "Probably not. But it would've been fun to watch."

Dove smiled, a genuine one this time, feeling a little lighter. "Maybe next time."

Eddie gave a quiet chuckle, then took another drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. "You're tougher than you look, you know that?"

Dove raised an eyebrow, slightly taken aback. "I don't feel tough."

Eddie shrugged. "Doesn't matter how you feel. It's how you keep showing up. Anyone else would've split after the month that you've had, but you're still standing."

Dove blinked, not sure how to respond to that. It wasn't the kind of reassurance she was used to, but something about it felt real. Eddie wasn't trying to make her feel better—he was just telling it like it was.

"Thanks," she said quietly, her voice sincere.

Eddie gave her a small, lopsided grin. "Anytime."

Before Dove could say anything more, the front door opened again, and Steve stepped outside, his expression frustrated and weary. He spotted Dove and Eddie, pausing for a moment before walking over. He looked exhausted, like the night had drained the last bit of energy out of him.

"Nancy's..." Steve began, his voice low and strained, a mix of anger and sadness. "She doesn't want to talk."

Eddie, ever casual, gave a sympathetic nod. "Rough night, Harrington?"

Steve sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You could say that."

His eyes drifted back to Dove, and there was something vulnerable in his gaze—something she hadn't seen from him before. He hesitated, glancing between Dove and Eddie, before finally speaking. "You need a ride home?"

Dove blinked, surprised by the question. She glanced at Eddie, who gave her a knowing nod, as if to say 'go for it.' She looked back at Steve, who was clearly struggling under the weight of everything that had happened tonight. She could see it in the way he carried himself, the way his shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

"Yeah," Dove said softly. "That sounds good."

Eddie gave her a small, supportive smile. "Catch you later, Dove."

With that, Steve led her down the steps and toward his car. They didn't speak as they walked, and Dove felt the tension between them—not the bad kind, but the kind that comes when two people have been through something, even if they haven't fully processed it yet.

The quiet hum of the engine was the only sound, the streets of Hawkins slipping by in a blur of shadow and light. Dove kept her eyes on the passing houses, trying to focus on anything but the sinking feeling in her chest. She didn't know how to help Steve, didn't know if she could even find the right words to soothe his hurt. After everything that had happened tonight, everything that was still unresolved between them, the space between them felt both too wide and too close.

Then Steve pulled the car into an empty parking lot.

Dove's stomach clenched the moment the car slowed, her pulse quickening as she recognized the familiar, unsettling feeling of isolation. Her mind flashed back to Billy, to the empty parking lot that night after the movie, the way he had pushed her, how the darkness and solitude had swallowed her whole. She forced the memory down, but it clawed at the edges of her mind, refusing to stay buried.

The car rolled to a stop, and the engine hummed softly before cutting off. The silence in the car was deafening, and Dove's breath hitched, her chest tightening as she fought the rising panic.Not again. Not like Billy.

But this wasn't Billy. She reminded herself of that over and over, trying to steady her breathing, to keep the fear at bay. Steve wasn't Billy. He wasn't going to hurt her. He wasn't going to make her feel small or powerless. Yet, despite that knowledge, the dark, empty parking lot still made her feel exposed, vulnerable in ways she hadn't expected.

Steve let out a long, shaky breath beside her, leaning back in his seat, his face turned up to the ceiling. His eyes were closed, and his hands were trembling slightly, still gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing grounding him. He looked broken—like someone who had been holding everything together for far too long and had finally reached his breaking point.

"I don't know what I'm doing anymore," he muttered, his voice thick with frustration and sadness. "I thought I could fix it. I thought... I don't even know what I thought."

Dove's heart pounded in her chest, her hands gripping the fabric of her dress. She wanted to reach out to him, to say something comforting, but the memories of Billy's touch, Billy's smirk, Billy's words crept in like shadows. She hated that she couldn't separate them, that the two moments—their nightmarish differences—blurred in her mind.He is not Billy,she reminded herself again, the words repeating like a mantra.He is not Billy.

But the unease wouldn't leave. The fear that she had buried so deep after that night with Billy refused to stay hidden, clawing at her insides. And now, sitting in this quiet, dark parking lot, with Steve beside her, a broken boy looking for comfort, it all felt like too much. The uncertainty. The hurt. The vulnerability.

"I just..." Steve's voice cracked, pulling Dove out of her spiraling thoughts. He wiped a hand across his face, his frustration turning into bitter laughter. "Nancy doesn't want me anymore. She said she doesn't- doesn't feel anything. Like none of it mattered."

Dove's heart twisted. The weight of Steve's words hung heavy in the air. Steve's pain was real, raw, and she could feel it radiating from him, but her own anxiety kept pulling her back to that night with Billy. The parking lot, the silence, the fear of being trapped—it all swirled in her head like a storm she couldn't escape.

For a moment, the two feelings—Steve's heartbreak and her own panic—collided, tangling in a knot of confusion and fear. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him that Nancy's words didn't define him, but the words wouldn't come. She couldn't shake the feeling of being cornered, even if Steve was nothing like Billy.

"I'm so sorry," Dove whispered, the words slipping out almost before she realized it. Her voice was small, shaky, but it was the only thing she could manage. "You're not..."

Steve turned his head, looking at her with eyes full of pain and uncertainty, and for a moment, Dove saw herself in him—both of them trapped in their own emotional spirals, both of them too scared to break free. He was waiting for her to say something, to make it better, but all she could feel was the pounding of her own heart, the panic still lurking beneath the surface.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Steve muttered again, running a hand through his hair, pulling himself further into his own misery. "I tried so hard, and she doesn't even care."

Dove swallowed hard, her mouth dry. The parking lot felt like a cage. She needed to get out. She needed air. But she couldn't leave him like this. Not when he was this lost, this broken.

"You're not screwing everything up," Dove said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're trying. That's more than most people do."

Steve let out a soft, bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Yeah? It doesn't feel like it."

Dove closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find her footing in this moment, trying to ground herself in the fact that this wasSteve, not Billy, and that he wasn't going to hurt her. She opened her eyes and reached out, her hand trembling as it rested on the seat between them, a small gesture of connection.

"It's going to be okay," Dove said, though her voice still carried the weight of her own fear. "I promise."

Steve didn't respond. He just stared out the window, his face shadowed by the dim light of the streetlamps. And for the first time, Dove realized that they were both lost—both trying to navigate the darkness of their own lives, both struggling to find something solid to hold on to.

"I'll drive you home," Steve said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, the fight in him fading. He turned the key in the ignition, the car rumbling to life.

Dove nodded, grateful for the movement, the promise of leaving the parking lot behind. As they pulled away, the weight of the night still pressed heavily on them both, but for now, at least, they had each other in the quiet. No answers. No solutions. But they weren't alone.