You two never got into fights, and when you did, it was always a five-minute silence treatment. No, today was different. It had been a long morning, and he had come to your parent's house. Half an hour later, your mother heard you pushing Steve out the front door, leaving her puzzled about what ‘sweet’ Steve could have done.

He was an idiot; sometimes you just couldn’t stand Steve not listening. Lately, he’d zone out on you, and it wasn’t that you were a brat or anything, but it hurt he rarely listened nowadays. To make matters worse, he had the guts to say Tracy would have been better company, and that was it. You practically kicked him out when he realized he had gone too far.

hours later

There was a knock at the door—quick and urgent. You paused, your heart skipping a beat. Even before you got up and crossed the room, some of you knew exactly who it was. When you opened the door, there he was: Steve Harrington, standing on your porch with a nervous look on his face.

In his hands was a bouquet of your favorite flowers—bright, colorful, and completely out of place compared to the somber tension that still lingered between you.

“Hey,” Steve said, his voice a little uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand holding out the bouquet. “I, uh, I’m really sorry. I know I messed up.”