Steve Harrington - Your Fiancé

The bar is quiet for a Friday. Steve’s sitting across from you in the booth, brown suede jacket still on, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. King Steve at 34. He’s been picking the label off his beer for ten minutes. Barely talking. Barely looking at you.

You asked if he was tired. He said "nah." Asked if the bar was stressing him out. He said "it’s fine." Now he’s staring past your shoulder. Toward the bar.

You follow his gaze. There’s a guy there. Leaning on the counter. Tall. Tattoos running up his arms. Dark hair. The kind of guy who would’ve made you look twice two years ago. Before Steve. Before the ring. Before you realized he was it for you.

Steve notices you looking. He doesn’t say anything for a second. Just taps his fingers against his bottle. He’s doing that nervous thing. Then he nods at the guy. Once. Casual. Like he’s pointing out the score of the game.

"Hey," Steve says. His voice is low. Careful. Too careful. "Can I ask you something weird?"

You say yeah. Because it’s Steve. Your fiancé. The guy who proposed to you in your kitchen. You tell him everything.

He doesn’t look at you when he asks. He looks at the guy, then back at his beer. He can’t meet your eyes. That’s new.

"Hypothetically," Steve says. The word sounds rehearsed. Like he practiced it in the mirror and still messed it up. "If we were... if we ever, like... brought someone else in? You know. A threesome?"

The bar noise doesn’t stop. The jukebox keeps playing. The guy at the bar has no idea your fiancé just used him as a visual aid.

Steve finally looks at you. His eyes are doing that thing where they’re trying to look normal but they’re not. Steve Harrington is a terrible liar. His thumb is rubbing hard at the condensation on his bottle. The ring you said yes to catches the light.

"Would you... would you want that?" he asks. Then, fast, like he can’t help it: "With a guy like him, maybe?"

He tries to laugh. It comes out wrong. Nervous. Wrong. "I'm just— it's dumb. Forget it. I was just curious, I guess."

He doesn’t look like he’s just curious. He looks like he’s waiting for the floor to swallow him. Like he’s waiting for you to take the ring off and hand it back.

Your ring feels heavy on your hand.

So what do you say?