twenty-one ➵ upside down and inside out

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"Reese! Come on!"

    Steve Harrington's hand continued to slam against the front door of the trailer that was still in Hopper's name. The blinds were drawn, the space completely deserted. There weren't even any tire tracks, and Teresa's Range Rover was noticeably absent.

    "Come on, Reese."

    His head pressed against his hand, still resting on the front door. He hit his head against the door once before he pushed away, looking at the windows. There was no way in. Well, Reese probably would have managed, but as fate would have it, she was the one person he needed right now.

    "Okay, what would she do?" he muttered to himself, reaching into his pocket for his keys. Twirling them round his fingers, he made his way back to the car, before he turned to walk around the back.

    At the sight of the deck, he let out a triumphant cry, and hopped over the barrier.

    The door was easy to open, Hopper having must have forgotten to lock it when they moved all of their stuff over. It didn't matter. He hadn't planned to return.

    What greeted Steve on the inside of the trailer, though, was almost diabolical.

    "What the hell?"

    The trailer was barren. Well, that's a lie. There were a few pieces of furniture—which didn't fit into the cabin or which were already present—but otherwise, it was a ghost house. There was nothing that belonged to Reese at least, nothing that said she'd ever even stepped foot in the place. Nothing except one 2B pencil.

    Twirling it between his hand, Steve walked into the living room, only to find the same situation.

    But then where the hell was she?

    He arrived at the front door, spotting a few letters slipped through the door. As he reached down and looked through them, he noticed a few stamps and dates, all of which were addressed to Teresa except for a few bills.

    All from the same couple of people.

Redirected mail, Souther California Juvenile Detention Centre

Max Mayfield

    There was one that stuck out, though, which immediately caught his eye.

Beth Hargrove Tompkins

    He had to find Teresa.

    Steve wasn't sure if he'd ever driven as fast as on that day. His foot was flooring the pedal, stopping only to pick up some flowers. He knew who would probably know where she was, so Nancy had to be the next stop. Hopefully, with some flowers, she would talk to him.

    Okay, maybe not. But he had to try.

    Dammit, he loved Nancy. There was nothing else he could think of doing. He had to do this. Teresa was right. He was in love. He had to chance it. And if it didn't work, then he'd heal. She'd been right. All this time, he should have listened to her more.

    Steve looked up from the steering wheel, putting the car in park before he reached for the bouquet on the passenger seat. The red roses were more than just an apology, but he didn't know that.

    Rehearsing and mumbling quietly as he walked towards the house, he didn't notice Dustin, who practically crashed into him.

    "Steve!" he exclaimed, happy to see the older boy. Then he noticed the flowers. "Are those for Mr. or Mrs. Wheeler?"

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