𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 steve harrington

xxix. you said when you met me

━︎ VOL THREE. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

❝︎ it's pathetic really, how much i still
hope it's you and me in the end. ❞︎

"You didn't need to do all that," Steve said once they'd dropped Dustin off at his house.

After Eddie had told them about what truly happened to Chrissy Cunnigham, their group left with the promise of coming back the next day. Currently, Jack and Steve were alone in the car, a sense of awkwardness stretching between them.

"I did," Jack shrugged, "You've gone through so much shit, I wasn't about to let your cause of death be Eddie Munson's swiss army knife."

Steve hummed, pulling out of Dustin's driveway as the younger boy flipped them off for no apparent reason, and pulled his door open. Jack reached for the radio of the car, switching to the station he and Steve listened to on their way to school all of last year.

'Kashmir' by Led Zepplin filled the car's emptiness as Jack amplified the volume. He hummed along to the lyrics, his lips faintly opening and closing. Steve tapped the steering wheel along to the beat, the pads of his fingers thrumming against the leather.

Jack laughed quietly, the tune drowning over his laughs. Steve turned to look at him, and he smiled. "Hey, do you want to come back to my house?"

Jack raised an eyebrow, "What are you offering, Harrington?"

"Well you know," Steve shrugged, "I haven't seen you in a while so I've just been–"

Jack bit his lip, looking down at his lap. "You've been horny,"

"I mean, yeah," Steve nodded, turning to Jack, "Wait– are you mad? Of course, I've been– you were too!"

"That's not the problem, Steve." Jack sighed, running a hand over his eyelids.

"Then what's the problem?" Steve asked, "Can we finally have this conversation, or are you going to go get high again?

"Oh my god," Jack laughed darkly, "That's so not fair,"

"It's not?" Steve tilted his head. "I think it is. You've been angry these past two days, and I still can't figure out why, and once you promise we can talk about it, you went and got fucked up."

"Maybe because I didn't want to deal with your bullshit!" Jack shouted.

Steve didn't reply, he just stared at the empty, shady road. Jack noticed the way his eyes began to fill with tears.

"Steve, I didn't mean it in that–"

"No, no, it's fine," Steve shrugged, turning on the road to Jack's house. "You shouldn't have to deal with my bullshit. It's just all shit isn't it, everything."

"What do you mean?" Jack's voice cracked.

"All of it," Steve sighed, "How are we supposed to keep going when all we've done is fight these past two days,"

"Steve," Jack whispered, "Don't do this, I can't do this without you,"

"I mean," Steve continued, "Have we even said the three words 'I love you,' at all since you came back. No, we're just fighting, and I can't, I can't."