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Steve is determined.
Or you could call it greedy, whatever word you want to use for the immovable drive to get what he wants when he puts his mind to it, everyone else be damned.
Problem is, he doesn’t actually care about most things. Life happens to Steve, not the other way around.
But, sometimes he feels this pull in his chest– this itch to scratch, something he has to achieve and he can’t rest till he gets it.
He’s like that with sports, sure he had a little help from Lady Luck (thank you, early growth spurt) and was thrust into signing up to whatever afterschool thing he could get his grabby hands on.
(Whatever thing keeps him busy– keeps him away from an empty, dull house)
But talent only gets you so far, and he fights tooth-and-nail for the rest of it. Everyone thinks it's effortless (that’s fine with him, he prefers it that way). He scores his first three pointer in a game and feels a thrill he didn’t think he could feel. His legs itch to shoot again, keep playing. Playing until he’s left everything but his heart on the court.
He thinks about that feeling every time he’s shooting baskets on empty courts,when he runs drills and feels like he’s about to pass out. Chasing the feeling like an addict chases a high. All to surmount into a big crescendo swell when his teammates slap his back and congratulate him on his wins (their wins, ‘cause that’s how being on a team works. They look at him like he’s a part of them. He feels like he is ). Nice going, Harrington, they say.
He drowns out the jeers of how it’s unfair of an underclassman to be taking their spotlight. Whatever. If Harrington stopped to think about what every damn body was feeling, well, he wouldn’t be crowned King Steve then, would he?
Greedy.
He’s like that with girls. Well, it's more the attention, really. They coo and aww after him and he enjoys the chase. Picks a new one when he gets bored because, hey, life is short and pretty girls are a-plenty. Leave some for the rest of us, man
Yeah man, don’t get greedy.
(It’s easy, you just have to pretend you don’t care)
He’s like that with Nancy.
He doesn’t realise it the first time he talks to her, or even the second time. She’s too busy playing coy and he’s too busy thinking about what play to use next.
He realises it on the third time though, when she listens to him talk, keeps up with his quipping, easily. He says something stupid (probably, he doesn’t really remember but he says a lot of stupid things around her, so) and she shoots him this– this look where her eyes glint with light and crinkle at the corners and her lips stretch into this shy smile, like she’s sees him for what he really is and knows exactly what he means, and he thinks– no, he knows– he’ll do just about anything to keep her looking at him like that.
And he does do just about anything, it’s not easy and she doesn’t try to make it easier. He fumbles, he makes mistakes: says the wrong things, does the wrong things (is the wrong things). He climbs into windows, invites her to parties, goes back into assured danger with nothing but his nerve and a baseball bat.
He leaves with nothing but a new sense-of-self.
(And a baseball bat.)
He had almost let her slip away and it left him in a cold shock. The look she gave him playing over and over again. Hurt eyes and a guarded face trying to hide how it says How could you?
She’s right, how could he?
He’s determined to win her back, (the win is important here, he can’t just get her back he has to win her back because that’s the only way Nancy Wheeler will ever look at him like that (with any sort of respect) again)
And, well, you know how he gets when his mind is set.
Greedy, greedy, greedy–
-
Nancy is determined.
Some may say pushy, her parents call it being stubborn. Whatever word it is that describes never backing down from a cause? Yeah, she has that.
It doesn’t bother her, she sees the titters and eye-rolls whenever she asks too much from people; her classmates in a group project, her teachers, the Hawkins police investigating her friend's disappearance.
Her boyfriend when she asks him to run back into danger with her.
It’s fine. She can do it herself, has always done it herself.
She knows she’s digging up skeletons that should stay buried. She’s tried to pretend it doesn’t bother her, tried to pretend she doesn’t wake up in a cold sweat, pretend she doesn’t seethe every time the school makes offhand comments about the dangers of leaving home, pretend her heart doesn’t break a bit more every time Barb’s parents think they’re one step closer to their daughter.
They’re dead set on finding her alive. Nancy is similar to them in this way.
She wonders sometimes if she never saw that– thing, never got dragged into this monster-hunting mess, if she’d end up like them. Wonders how long she’d chase loose threads till her resolve cracks, sometimes thinks she wouldn’t until someone takes a good hold of her and screams “She is not coming back”. Maybe that’s why she wants to hold them and scream until they get it, give them some closure and get them to crawl forward.
Steve is good at that, and she’s jealous of it. He takes every hit in stride, takes it and pushes past it. Pretends ‘till he can’t tell the difference. But it's too fast for her, too foreign of a feeling to sit comfortably in it.
Even the little changes, the way people stare at them in chagrin, whisper about their relationship and their misdeeds. The story is muddled and the details are all wrong but it matters little, because they can all see the result for themselves: the fallen and the one who caused the fall. What a pair they both make.
That change bothers Steve even less, surprising her even more. Because her life hasn’t changed much, Steve takes up pretty much all of what would’ve been Barb's time with her (an unequal trade; a friend for a beau, an eye for a tooth), his, on the other hand, changes immensely. You wouldn’t notice it though, not with the way he hums to the radio when they hang out in his car or his content smile when he (attempts) his assignments with her during free periods. He seems lighter, even.
She’s afraid sometimes that he’s also pretending. Pretending this world shift doesn't weigh him down, like he doesn’t regret ever pulling her away to talk after biology, a talk that eventually snowballed into– well, this. That he’s stuck with a half-there, heartbroken girl after forsaking his old life, ‘cause, otherwise, what was the point, what was it all for?
(Barb probably did. In her final moments, if she even had them. Regret coming to that party, regret trying to be a friend, a guardian, to rue the day she ever met Nancy Wheeler; burden to many, friend to none.)
And she’s determined to stay that way.
But that’s the problem when you have two dead set individuals on opposing paths;they’re magnets of the same pole, and eventually one has to give way. (Which way will you give, my love–
It starts like this: Steve’s at the Wheeler’s house, Nancy mentions going to Barbra’s parents house for dinner next week. Mike scoffs and tells her she’s just gonna end up more upset. Nancy narrows her eyes, tells him it’s good to hear from them. Mike says Whatever, tells her she’s never going to move on, Nancy pushes back Like you're gonna be able to move on calling the radio every night?
In short: Mike is being a little shit (as usual), Nancy can’t let things slide (as usual) and Steve is there holding her hand (as usual).
“I don’t need to move on, Eleven’s gonna come back I know she’s out there–”
“Know? Or feel? You’re wasting your time–”
“It’s not like Barb! She didn’t die!--”
“We don’t know that–” She says, voice getting louder
“You don’t know that, I can hear her sometimes,”
She wants to scream back; she hears Barb too, hears her laugh, hears how she would respond to conversations, sees her in libraries. He acts like she doesn’t understand, she does. Her throat tightens.
“What Nance means is–” Steve tries (he always tries).
Mike rolls his eyes, already not having this, “You didn’t even know her, okay? Either of you– She did stuff you wouldn’t be able to even comprehend.”
“You didn’t see what that monster is capable of, either–” Nancy says. failing to hide the hurt in her voice.
“Hey!” Karen interrupts, head poking in from the kitchen, “What are you two yelling about?”
Nancy swallows, the lump in her throat getting heavier and harder to ignore. She wonders if it’s written all over her face, must be because Steve’s grip on her hand tightens.
“What kind of behaviour is this? Huh?” Karen continues, gesturing with the wooden spoon in her hand. “And in front of guests?”
Mike scoffs, “It’s just Steve–”
“I don’t care! You don’t speak like that to each other. Ever–” Karen rambles on, it’s falling on deaf ears, though, because Nancy can already feel her face getting hot and her tears pooling so she’s up and running up to her room, ignoring the cries from her mother to stay put.
Ignoring the hand she let go.
-
She sits on her bed, trying to stop the stupid tears from falling.
She doesn’t blame Mike, not really. He’s always said how he feels. He’s going through something insurmountable, they all are. She wishes she were gentler, wishes she could say the right things in the right ways, be the role model big sister he needs.
No wonder he’s so frazzled if she’s the example she's set for him.
She wishes she could do anything to shake him from getting his hopes up every night, calling endlessly, hopelessly into empty radio frequencies. Barb's parents asking her every time to recount that night, did her behaviour seem off? Was she on the phone to somebody, do you think she left a note anywhere?
Maybe she shouldn’t go to dinner. But she loves them, has grown up with them. They probably know things about her that her parents don’t (courtesy of Barb's inability to keep a secret). Maybe more so she wishes she had it in her heart to tell them that their daughter, their darling, is gone. Like, never coming back, see you never, gone.
She can’t, she won’t. She doesn’t even have the guts to visit them alone and has to have her boyfriend there just to ease her through the night. Speaking of.
Steve knocks softly on her room door.
She doesn’t look up.
He walks in anyway.
He sits in front of her on her bed, her eyes stay on her sheets. She wonders what his face looks like right now– worry? Sympathy? Guilt? A-what-the-hell-am-I-gonna-do-with-this-girl?
She should be embarrassed, vaguely she is. He just witnessed her cry from a screaming match with her 12-year old brother. But, she doesn’t ever feel embarrassed with him. Never, not really. Not even in the way her voice hiccups or how easily she collapses into his open arms, ear pressed against his beating, thumping heart.
She closes her eyes and tries to follow the rhythm, how can it beat so loudly, so unabashed? So open and unafraid. How can his heart still beat for her, how has it not lost its way using broken compasses and roads that lead nowhere?
She knows him, knows he can see past her glazy eyes and tight smiles, but she’s afraid he’ll look too long and find there’s nothing more to look for. That’ll he’ll stay by her side, keep digging, hoping to find the light, the fire (the whatever he saw that made him chase after her in the first place) and find a black empty void, keeping scraping the bottom of the barrel and wade through all the no-good, rotten, wrathful stuff to find that his journey was in vain. That that’s all she is now.
He’ll realise it soon enough, she thinks. Captains don’t go down with their sinking ship (or, they do? She isn’t sure). She’s already dragged Barb down with her and look how that turned out. Steve’s a smart guy, he'll cut this dead weight soon enough. Go back to Tommy H. and Carol, probably, tail between his legs, That Nancy girl sure was crazy but her friend just died so what could I do, right?
His hand runs up and down her back, his gentle shushing soft in her ear. They both stay that way until Nancy dares to peel her face away from his chest and reach up to wipe at her eyes.
“Hey.” Steve smiles, gently, so gently.
He reaches his hand out to cup her face and uses his thumb to wipe away her tears.
“Feeling better?” His voice barely above a whisper, probably afraid she’ll set off again. “That brother of yours can be a real piece of work, y’know? Do you think it’s all those Cheez-its he eats? Heard it makes kids go crazy–”
She swallows and dares to meet his eyes, watches him continue to talk.
“Steve.” She interrupts, voice slightly hoarse, “Why are you here?”
Steve stutters mid-sentence, worry creeping back on his face, “S-sorry, do you want me to get your mom–?"
“No, Steve.” She licks her lips, eyes focusing on her crossed leg. “Why are you here? With me.”
He pauses as if to think about what to say, decipher what she means.
“What do you mean?” He tries to laugh it off.
She doesn’t let him, “Here? With me?” She repeats, hands coming up to hide her face, “I’m a– a mess.”
She lets out a laugh because, really, mess doesn’t even begin to cover half of it.
“Woah, hey no, Nance, no,” He says in a hushed tone, “You’re not a mess, what?” he brings his other hand to cup her other cheek, forcing her to look at him.
She can’t.
“You-you shouldn’t–” She stammers out, it’s all coming out now. Her plan of a slow motion break up, of using Steve’s helping hand as a crutch till he gets sick of it and leaves, crumbling before her very eyes. All because she can’t look him in the eyes and tell him to leave, she can’t. But she can’t drag him down any longer either.
“You shouldn’t be here.” Shouldn’t be with me, is what she doesn’t say.
He understands her anyway, “What are you talking about?” in the most pained voice that makes her resolve crack even more.
“You don’t need to be here, at home, with me. Or go to Barb’s place. It's–” selfish of her. He cares for her so much and she can’t give him what he needs. You should be free, free to date and get drunk and go to the movies and be like the stupid teenager you want to be.
“Nance, listen to me, okay? Can you look at me first?” He uses his hands to tilt her head up, but she can’t face him. Squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head slowly. Won’t be able to do this if she has to look at his hopeful, honest eyes that expect so much of her.
“Please, Nance.” His voice cracks slightly and the pleading tone is the final nail to crack her pride. “I’m not going anywhere, you gotta believe me.”
She looks up at him, meets his eyes in a determined gaze. Hell bent on keeping him out.
He stares back, eyes flickering between hers, searching. Heaven sent on breaking in.
Their standoff is losing its legs. But that’s what happens when you have two dead set individuals on opposing paths;they’re magnets of the same pole, and one has to give way. (Which way will you give, my love–
Nancy crumbles first.
“Steve–” She is going to give in, she can hear it in her voice. She’s weak, so weak. Weak to his strong-will, his ever presence. Weak to his never moving steadfastness. How can you still be here? Stop wasting your time. I’m telling you to leave–
(Nancy Wheeler points a gun at him and starts to count down. Steve, get out–!
Okay, is this a joke? Put the gun down.
I’m doing this for you
He comes back.
He’ll do it every time.)
Steve wraps his arms around her again and she rests her chin on his shoulder.
“‘M not gonna anywhere, alright.” He murmurs, she feels his chest vibrate slightly when he speaks. Likes it, wants to feel it again.
“Trust me, this– here– with you.” He smiles, “‘S’all I want. Just let me stay here.”
Steve feels Nancy nod her head slightly and hears the walls crumbling. He wants to stay here as long as he can, as long as she’ll let him. He knows her, knows she thinks she’s dragging him into a tangled mess he can't handle. Thinks her assertment is enough to push him away.
But two can play at that game, and what she will learn is just how stubborn he can be too. Give way to me, my love
He pulls his head away from her shoulders and gives her a soft kiss on her temple before moving his head back to look at her again.
“I can’t believe you think I don’t want to be here. I mean, Mike only rolled his eyes at me, like, three times today– that’s a pretty good ratio.”
She snorts a laugh and it’s worth a million more stupid comments he can come up with.
She finally (finally) looks at him, and gives him a real smile. A smile that meets her eyes, a smile that makes him feel alive. The look, the green-light that he’s been waiting for. A look that tells him she’s gonna stop fighting his companionship, that he’ll be here every time she needs. Even times she insists she doesn’t (especially times she insists she doesn’t).
A knock interrupts this cosmic discovery. He turns to see Mike at her door.
“Mom sent me to apologise.” He says, at least having the decency to say it like he means it.
Steve looks back at Nancy, a silent question asked. She nods and gives him a small smile.
He uses his fingers to curl a lock of her hair behind her ear, lifting himself off her bed and placing a kiss on her cheek before he goes. It’s a little wet and salty and worth the other eye-roll Mike sends his way (they’re on number four of the night, still not bad all things considered).
The young boy dodges his attempt to ruffle his hair on the way out.
(Later that night, he’s about to leave and Nancy catches him at the door, pulling him into a kiss, then another, then another. He’s grinning into it and it’s okay because so is she. She then tells him thank you, all breathy and honest, and Steve, the greedy bastard that he is, pulls her in for another.)