Joe Keery Imagines

Unwanted Customers-Steve Harrington

I jumped when the door opened. I looked over to see Keith walking in.

"What was that about?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Robin and that douchebag, Steve Harrington, want to work here."

"Really?" I stuttered. I cleared my throat before asking, "You gonna hire them?"

"As much as I don't want to, we could really use the help."

* * * * *

After my lunch break, I walked in and went back to work. I was reorganizing the kid section when someone walked up behind me.

"Is there something I can help you find?"

My customer-service question got cut off when I turned around to see Steve smiling shyly at me.

"Steve," I stuttered. "What umm. . . Did you need help finding something or. . ."

"You moved back," he rushed out.

"I did."

"When?"

"The umm. . . The beginning of summer," I started to quickly and nervously explain. "My dad's job got transferred again, last year, but he convinced his boss to allow him to stay where we were. My parents wanted me to finish my senior year at the same school. We moved a couple of days after graduation."

I held my breath, waiting for him to respond. The longer he stared at me, the more nervous I got. I broke our eye contact and looked at a nearby shelf with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. 

"It's uh. . . It's really good to see you again, Y/N," Steve stuttered.

"You too," I said, my voice dropping.

"Listen," he said, clearing his throat. "About what happened the night before you moved away. . ."

"I can't talk right now, Steve," I cut him off. "I have work."

I brushed past him, unable to have this conversation. I've spent years trying to forget about that night. I definitely didn't want to hear Steve apologize and reject me again.

I went home and spent the rest of the night distracting myself. My dad was working late and my mom was at book club. I usually came home to an empty house during the summer. I made some dinner and cleaned up as soon as I was done. My parents hated coming home to a dirty house.

I was reading when there was a knock at the front door. I put my bookmark in and went to answer it. When I opened it, I wasn't expecting Steve Harrington to be on my doorstep.

"You moved back into your old house."

That was the first thing out of his mouth. I wrapped my arms around myself and pretended to look at our yard.

"We got lucky," I shrugged, still avoiding eye contact. "The people who rented it after we left moved out a week before we got the news that we were moving back. My dad called the realtor and they put it on hold for us."

"That's lucky," Steve nodded.

Silence fell between us. We never used to be like this. We never struggled to find something to talk about. Before I moved, we used to be constantly talking. Now, standing in front of him, I felt nervous. And I hated it.

"What are you doing here, Steve?" I sighed.

"I know you didn't want to talk at the video store," he started to quickly ramble, "and I understand why. That's why I left, but I really want to talk to you. I know we left on weird terms."

"And who's fault is that?" I cut him off harsher than was probably necessary.

"Mine," Steve stuttered. "But. . ."

"No," I cut him off. "There is no 'but', Steve. Do you have any idea how it felt? It took every bit of courage I had to tell you what I did. And that look on your face when you realized what I said. . . That look of. . . nothingness? That destroyed me, Steve. It was clear that you didn't feel the same way about me. And I was lucky my family left the next day because I couldn't face you after that rejection."

I was overwhelmed with a sense of deja vu as Steve stared at me. He opened and closed his mouth just like four years ago. I shook my head, struggling to hold back the tears. I scoffed and started to close the door. I gasped when Steve quickly caught it.

He slowly looked up at me, a weird look in his eyes. I couldn't tell if it was guilt or something else.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice getting caught in his throat. "I shouldn't have waited four years to say that to you. I also shouldn't have let you leave without responding to your confession."

"Steve. . ."

"I didn't know," he cut me off. "I didn't know what to think or how to feel when you told me you were in love with me. We were young. And I hadn't even felt that kind of love. But you were so sure of how you felt. I was scared. I had a million different thoughts going through my head and I couldn't voice any of them. And then, all of a sudden, you were gone. I stayed up that night, going over what you said and trying to decide what I felt. I went back through our entire friendship. I overanalyzed every day we spent together. By the time I figured it out, you were gone. I should've called you or visited you or something. Anything other than what I did would've been better. I'm sorry."

"Steve," I stuttered. "I don't understand."

"What I'm trying to say is that I love you."

My heart jumped into my throat. Part of me was so excited I couldn't put it into words. The other part was angry and confused.

"I know how you must feel," he blurted out. "I understand if you're angry. You have every right to be. I shouldn't have been such a coward. I should've realized sooner how I felt about you. And as soon as I realized it, I should've run to tell you."

"Steve," I interrupted him. He instantly stopped talking, allowing me to cut him off. "I just. . . I don't know. . . I still love you but. . ."

The second I told him that I still had feelings for him, he smiled. He took a very careful step toward me. He slowly grabbed my hands, holding them delicately in his. He leaned in just as slowly as he grabbed my hands.

"Y/N," he whispered. "Stop me."

I didn't.

It felt like my heart jumped into my throat when Steve pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was slow and gentle. He didn't push me. He allowed me to set the pace and I chose to take it slow. My mind was spinning as I was still trying to wrap my head around his confession and now from the feeling of his lips on mine.

My lungs were screaming for air, but I couldn't pull away. It wasn't until I started to see spots that I finally slowly broke the kiss. We were both breathing heavily.

"You didn't stop me," he whispered with a small smile on his face.

"I don't know what to do," I admitted.

"I know," Steve sighed, taking a step back. "And I want to give you space to figure it out. I'm not going far. Just far enough for you to think."

He hesitated before turning to leave. I grabbed his hand before he could go. He looked down at our hands before slowly looking up at me.

"I don't need space," I whispered. "Just time."

Steve smiled as he intertwined our fingers. He took step toward me and grabbed my other hand.

"Then time you will get."