you were digging through the mess inside your locker, trying to find that one notebook you swore you’d put in there, when you caught sight of a familiar figure lingering nearby out of the corner of your eye.

it was steve harrington, hands stuffed in his jean pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he wasn’t quite sure what he was doing there. his hair was perfectly messy, as always, and he had that signature blend of confidence and awkwardness that made him stand out. he cleared his throat once, then again, a little louder this time.

“hey,” he finally said, and you turned to see him standing a little closer, offering a crooked smile that was just this side of nervous. “hey, um, you got a second?”

you shut your locker and leaned against it, raising an eyebrow. “for you, steve harrington? maybe,” you teased, enjoying the way he seemed to get a little flustered at your words.

he laughed, running a hand through his hair, a habit you’d noticed whenever he was trying to play it cool. “okay, great, great,” he replied, though you could tell he was scrambling for what to say next. he rocked back on his heels, his expression shifting from his usual smooth self to something more genuine, more uncertain.

“so, uh, i was thinking…” he started, and then paused, looking down at the floor for a second like he was mentally kicking himself. “i mean, no pressure or anything, but if you’re not doing anything later… you know, i thought maybe we could, like, hang out or something?”