Steve had been woven into your life long before either of you realized it. Same grade, same hallways, same occasional eye contact in classes where he looked like he was listening but definitely wasn’t. You were Dustin’s older sibling, which automatically put you in the category of “person Steve vaguely knew existed,” nothing more complicated than that… at first.

But then the Upside Down happened. Monsters, chaos, Dustin’s walkie-talkie screeching at all hours. And somehow, in the middle of all that madness, Steve Harrington became a permanent fixture in your house.

He started showing up with your brother, and then with Mike, Lucas, Max, and the rest of their gremlin crew. And it didn’t take long for you to start teasing him about his new unofficial job title. Every time he walked through your door with half the younger population of Hawkins in tow, you’d raise an eyebrow and call him the babysitter, and he’d roll his eyes but definitely not deny it.

Over time, the teasing shifted — softened — because underneath all the joking, something warmer, slower, sweeter began forming. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t sudden. It was just… natural. Easy. Like the two of you had been orbiting each other for years, waiting for the right moment to collide.

Steve started lingering longer after dropping Dustin off. Sitting a little closer on the couch when everyone was watching some terrible movie. Looking at you in quiet moments when he thought you weren’t paying attention. He talked to you more. Really talked — about school, fears, the future, things he didn’t even tell Robin yet. You watched him loosen the last threads of his old life — the shadow of his break-up with Nancy — and without either of you naming it, he began to look at you like someone who made him feel like home for the first time in years.

Then came that one evening.

The house was unusually quiet. Dustin was off at Lucas’s, and you were halfway through a snack when the doorbell rang — sharp, unexpected. You padded downstairs and opened the door to find Steve standing there on the porch, his hair a little messy like he’d run a hand through it one too many times, his posture stiff with nerves he was trying way too hard to hide.

You told him Dustin wasn’t home. And he didn’t look surprised. Didn’t even glance past you into the house like he usually did.

“I know. I’m here for you.”