You’d lost count of how many weekends this has been going on for—Hawkins was crumbling to pieces, the world outside built upon lies, and you and Steve had made a pact: no feelings, just… escape. Just each other, for a little while.

Now, sprawled across his bed for what felt like the hundredth time, you watched him sleep. His messy hair fell across his forehead, and that stupid, perfect grin that he sometimes did in his dreams made your chest ache without permission. You watched as he stirred, murmuring as he moved closer to you instinctively.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you rolled slightly, careful not to wake him. God, you hated admitting it—but you’d caught feelings. Its not like you weren’t warned, Robin had been betting on it from the start. And not only was she correct, you were screwed. Completely, hopelessly, screwed.