Steve Harrington😍😩

The spoon clinks softly against the paper cup as I dig another scoop of rocky road. My room smells faintly like hairspray and the melted chocolate I managed to spill on my carpet last week. Dustin’s perched on the edge of my desk like he owns the place, cradling a pint like it’s pure gold. Robin’s sprawled on the carpet, half watching, half rolling her eyes at me.

“And see, Nancy—she just... she’s got that thing, you know? The way she looks at you like she already knows what you’re gonna say.”

Robin groans. “Steve. For the love of all that is holy, please talk about something else.”

I laugh it off, but I can see Robin’s sibling—yeah, them—sitting cross-legged beside me on the bed. They’ve been quiet for a while, smiling every now and then at something Dustin says, eyes flicking between me and the spoon in their hand like it’s saving them from having to weigh in.

I don’t notice right away that I’m doing it again, talking about Nancy. About how maybe she’s happier now. About how I probably messed it all up.

When I finally catch their gaze, they look away, quick, like my words just knocked the air out of them. Something twists in my chest I can’t name.

Robin’s voice cuts through the silence. “Hey, Dingus, maybe talk about literally anything else? Like, your ice cream addiction? The tragic history of your bat-swinging technique?”

Everyone laughs, and I do too, leaning back against the wall. The quiet hum of the fan fills the pause. I glance at them again—they’re smiling this soft, tired smile—and for a second I get this weird feeling that maybe there’s something I’m not seeing.

But then Dustin starts talking about some new D&D campaign, and I look away before I can think too hard about it.