Joe Keery Imagines

Defending You-Steve Harrington

I was nodding to my music, editing my essay when something hit my window. I stood up and looked down. I laughed when I saw Steve sitting below my window, leaning against his car, with a large notepad.

Come here.

I sighed, slightly rolling my eyes as I grabbed my notepad from my desk and wrote back.

Can't. Studying.

He shook his head and wrote on his.

I really need to talk to you.

That note scared me. I nodded before quickly heading downstairs. When I got outside, I jogged to the side of the house where Steve's car was parked.

"What was so important that you had to. . ."

My breath got caught in my throat when Steve turned towards me. His face was covered in blood.

"What happened to you?" I gasped. I gently cupped his face in my hands and looked at his wounds.

"Come with me," I said as I let go of his face and grabbed his hand, pulling him with me.

"Y/N," he sighed, trying to pull his hand out of mine.

"My parents are gone for the weekend," I explained as I continued to lead him inside. "Besides, my mom would freak if she saw you like this. She'd insist on taking you to the hospital."

"Y/N," he tried to interrupt me.

"I know," I sighed. "I know you hate them. I won't take you to one, but at least let me do what I can."

He finally stopped resisting and let me lead him upstairs to my bathroom. He sat on the toilet while I did as much as I could for him. I washed off the blood and didn't notice him staring at me strangely until I started cleaning the cut under his eye.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine," he said under his breath. I ignored his quizzical gaze as I finished cleaning the cut.

"Try not to make too many facial expressions for the next few days," I said. "At least until the cuts have begun to heal over."

Steve didn't say anything. Instead, he watched as I cleaned up. When I was done, he stood up and grabbed my hand. Before I could say anything, he led me to the other room. We sat on the couch, neither one of us saying anything. I leaned my head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around my waist.

"Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Y/N," he sighed, but I cut him off.

"What happened, Steve?"

"It's nothing."

"You showing up on my doorstep, covered in blood and bruises, is not 'nothing'. So tell me. What happened?"

When he didn't answer, my anger built. "Steve," I said, trying and failing to calm down. I sat up and turned towards him. "What happened?"

"Y/N," he sighed. "Please, just drop it."

"My best friend shows up at my house beaten to a pulp and you want me to drop it," I scoffed.

"Please," he said again. "Let it go."

My anger was building and I didn't bother to try and stop it as I scooted further from him.

"I don't want to let it go. And as your best friend, I shouldn't. What I should do is chase this son of a bitch down and run him over with my car for what he did to you!"

"It was Billy," he finally said.

"Billy," I said through my teeth. I grabbed my keys and was about to storm out but Steve jumped up and grabbed my hand.