𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍; steve harrington

SIXTEEN

Snow whipped his face with the wind, fanning his cheeks and painting them red. His hair started to collect dots of white, creating drops against his skin. The moon shone ever-so brightly. Everything glimmered: his eyes, the snow, the stars in the sky. He felt his heartbeat quickly begin to race, pumping harder as if it were willing to bounce out of his chest. His brows furrowed with concern as he mindlessly clutched his hand against the skin covering his thumping heart. Suddenly, he felt it stop. Everything stopped.

Steve.

He swiftly turned around with wide eyes, hoping to see something, someone. He longed for it.

His eyes flickered down to the shadow of a person climbing the mountain, just a few feet away. Their auburn hair blew back in the wind, their smile bright and wide. They looked up, locking eyes with his own, as they called out his name once more. She called out his name. She. All along, it was her.

Steve.

His confusion slowly softened, his terror quickly washing away.

Steve.

He thought about stepping forward to help her up.

"Steve!"

He blinked. Once, twice, three times. Then the snow was gone, and so was the mountain, and so was the cold. But not the girl, or his racing heart. They remained.

"Are you alright?" Aven asked as she stepped down from the front porch, walking closer to the boy. Steve remained speechless for a moment or two, seemingly stuck in a trance, before hurriedly snapping himself out of it. He shook his head as he swallowed his thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, almost breathlessly. Aven stopped in front of him, brows furrowed with concern and the words he'd said that she didn't believe. He cleared his throat, trying to push his prior illusion away.

Aven studied him. He could tell she didn't believe him. "Why are you out here?" He asked, but not in a demanding, horrific or disgusted way. He uttered the words in a gentle tone, his features soft. "It's cold."

Her jacket was inside, draped over the back of a barstool. She smiled, her cheeks dusted with a light blush. Steve subtly tilted his head. "I know," she whispered into the night. "Are you going home? To your house?"

Steve furrowed his brows before cocking his head in a nod. "Yeah."

Aven bit her lip, eyes flicking from his to the floor for a moment before she forced her sight back up. "Would you . . . Would you like to stay the night? Here." His expression switched in an instant. "You don't have to. I just thought it might be-"

"Aven," he said, cutting her off by placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She stared at his touch. "I'd be more than happy to."

His hand subconsciously rested against the small of her back as they walked back inside, the boy closing the door softly behind them to shut out the warmth. They stepped into the lounge room, the air instantly changing. Aven couldn't help but notice another difference between her house and the Henderson household. Her residence was a house. Dustin's residence was a home.

The cat hair on the rug. The array of knitted blankets draped over the backs of the chairs. The countless framed photographs of close family and friends. The withered material of the sofa. The colour. The feeling. The air. The look of being used to entertain. The look of being cared for. The look of being loved. Her living room down Cherry Lane was barren of any emotions.

The two teens sat on the sofa, Steve kicking his feet up on the coffee table in the centre of the room. Books were stacked up in the far corner, catching Aven's eye as the boy beside her draped his arm across the back of the chair behind her. Without a thought, Aven mindlessly let herself relax into his side, her head leaning to rest against his chest. He looked down at her, merely admiring, with a gentle smile.

"You don't have to worry," Steve said quietly, his voice a stark contrast to Dustin's yelling from the room over. He was still trying to reach his friends through the handheld radio, but his efforts proved to be futile.

"I'm not worried," Aven said slowly, not moving her head from his chest. "I'm just scared."

Steve let his arm fall from the top of the sofa, letting it wrap around her. He ran his fingers up and down the side of her arm. "Don't be," he said softly. His voice was so close, almost like the sound was touching her ears, and the subtle movements of his vocal chords that sent vibrations down his body flowed into her own. "Dustin's here. I'm here. We know what we're doing."

Aven sighed quietly. "It sucks that you guys have had to do this before," she whispered. "You're just kids."

"We're just kids," he corrected her. "You're one of us now."

Aven laughed. "Is that a good thing?" She asked as her eyes flicked down. She caught sight of the hand in his lap, the one that wasn't drawing comforting circles on her arm. It was close to her leg. It was calling her name.

Steve scoffed with mock offence, Aven almost feeling the smile that crept up his face. "Of course it's a good thing! I mean, come on, I'm in it. It can't get any better than that."

Aven laughed once more with a soft shake of her head. "That's what makes it worse," she teased.

Steve hid a laugh. "You know that's not true," he said quietly, a hint of playfulness evident in his tone.

Aven smiled, before finally reaching out. "I know."

She grabbed his hand.