everything was going oddly well for steve harrington.

not that he expected things to go wrong- though he really, truly did- but this was just...weird. very, very weird.

he was working with robin at family video, and it was as fun as a job could be. much easier to flirt than it had been when he was at scoops ahoy, that was certain- thinking about that dumb hat still made him fume a bit.

there hadn't been any huge monsters trying to eat his small gang of children's faces off yet this year. maybe '86 would be a good one.

and he'd met you. that came with an unpleasant realization he liked boys. or more so one specific boy who had become his entire world in the span of a year, but the general concept of queerness- a word he'd once said with contempt so pure it embarrassed him- in relation to himself was novel. hmh. maybe he'd just been repressed.

robin, for one, had been delighted when he'd recounted your first 'date' thing- he'd taken his lunch break and spent it mooning over you and called it a date. she was his unofficial wingman- wing-woman? oh, whatever. it also entirely absolved her from guilt when checking out nancy wheeler.

you'd developed, finally, into an actual thing. partners, officially, for about six months, and god was he clingy.

not physically- though he did take any and all opportunities to touch you with great fervor- but emotionally. if not actively speaking to you, he was spinning you around in his head like a video game sprite. robin was going to give him a concussion via hitting him with a bible.

most of the time- or at least whenever you were both free- or whenever you were free and steve wasn't actively talking to a customer- he was talking to you. over the phone, across the counter at family videos, in his room, wherever.

tonight was over the phone.

he hadn't really told you he was going to call- he never did, it was always when the whim struck him. bored, lonely, feeling the ever-present paranoia from three years worth of constant assault on his psyche by grotesque monsters? you were the solution.

but here he lay, sprawled on his bed and absently humming mr sandman under his breath. his fingers twirled the phone cord as he waited for you to pick up, eyes traveling to the back yard.

it still scared him.

the pool wasn't there anymore- the fall after barb disappeared had been the fall he'd told the people doing work in the yard to get rid of it. his parents didn't noticed- how could they? they weren't home. ever. they never really had been, even when he was younger, leaving on business trips or cruises or just leaving. they'd stopped getting him a babysitter when he was ten.

maybe that was why he was so very desperate for your attention.

the thought crossed his mind, but he didn't linger on it long. he banished it the moment you picked up.

"hey," he spoke into the receiver, and you could hear the dumb grin on his face through his words. "sorry, it's late," god knows it was, "was bored. did i wake you?"