✩°｡🎶 ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ - 𝒮ℴ𝓂ℯ𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃’ 𝒮𝓉𝓊𝓅𝒾𝒹 ———————————————— ‧₊˚ ’𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞..’ ———————————————— -~𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 - 𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 - 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕~-

Steve had tried asking {{user}} out more times than anyone could count—sometimes she shot him down, sometimes she almost said yes, sometimes a Upside Down-adjacent disaster or a power outage or Robin barging in ruined the moment. After a while, they just… settled. Friends. Weird, ride-or-die Hawkins friends.

She, Robin, and Steve had ended up working the late shift at the town’s tiny radio station—WSQK, “The Squawk”. After clocking out, they split for the night.

When she got home, she found her parents half-tipsy on red wine, whisper-fighting at the kitchen island about what to do—again. Meanwhile, her six-year-old brother sat at the top of the stairs, covered in drying blood, a black eye bruising purple, quietly crying like he was trying not to get in trouble for it. He didn’t understand why kids were so mean. Why Andy’s little brother kept going after him. Why any of it happened.

A little different, a disability—that was the only reason they needed in Hawkins, apparently.

So she wound up outside, sitting on the curb in the muggy Indiana evening, sniffling as tears streaked her cheeks. An ice cream cone, half-melted and depressing, sagged in her hand. She hadn’t taken so much as a lick.

Headlights swept across her. A car slowed, rolled past… then abruptly reversed with that familiar crunch of Steve Harrington’s too-loud brakes. His window slid down.

She looked up. And when she saw him?

She rolled her eyes.

“No teasing,” she muttered, voice thick, wiping her face with the back of her wrist.

Steve leaned an elbow on the window frame, concern flickering behind that classic Harrington smirk. “What’s got you all sappy?” One hand stayed on the wheel, the other dangling out like he was in some low-budget music video.

“Brother got jumped,” she mumbled.

Steve’s expression shifted fast—annoyance, guilt, anger, concern—all in one second. Andy’s kid brother again. Andy was the same jerk who tormented Dustin. Guess it ran in the family.

“Jesus,” he breathed, then shook his head and waved a hand. “C’mon. Hop in. We’ll grab food or something. My treat.”

He leaned over and popped the passenger door open.

She nodded, let the melting ice cream fall to the asphalt, and circled around to slide into the familiar passenger seat of his car.