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What do you do when you like someone?
You tell your best friend.

What do you do if the person you like is your best friend?
You suffer.
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YOU HAVE BEEN suffering since you were six years old; when you met Steve Harrington in first grade.

You weren't talking at the time. Something happened to you. Something bad. You don't remember it anymore, and your mother won't talk about it. It made you mute for a while.


There must have been a miscommunication between the staff because your teacher was apparently not informed.

"Class, we have a new student here today! Miss Byers, why don't you introduce yourself to the class?"

You could practically hear crickets chirping.

"What's wrong with her?"

"My mommy says she was kidnapped last year."

The other children whispered. Tears welled in your eyes.

"Mrs. Smith, she can't talk about herself."

A confident voice chirped from the front of the class.

"Now, Steve ─ " The teacher seemed exasperated.

"She's clearly a secret agent." Little Steve had said, pointing at your arm. "007. Like James Bond!"

You sniffed, hastily pulling down your sleeve to cover your tattoo.

"That's so cool." Steve had grinned at you, and you shyly smiled back. "Right guys?"

There were general murmurs of agreement from the class.

"Okay, well then, Agent Byers ─ " Mrs. Smith thankfully played along. "Take a seat."

Steve waved at you, his tiny hand flailing wildly above him. He strained to reach as high as he could without standing up.

This made you laugh as you sat down next to the boy. It was the first sound you had made that wasn't a cry in three months.

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Eleven years later, you never left his side.

People saw you together so often over the years, that they almost started thinking you were siblings or something.

Holding Out for a Hero {Steve Harrington}Where stories live. Discover now