summary: steve harrington's got quite the staring problem. you find you don't hate it as much as you expected.
pining! steve x wednesday!reader
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Steve Harrington was a strange boy.
While most people refused to meet your eyes, Steve seemed to never want to look away.
It was off putting, to say the least.
You thought perhaps he was judging you, despite the fact that he and your mutual friend Eddie Munson got on quite well.
But while Eddie played into the "cult-leader" title playfully, when people called you a witch you typically kept a blank stare and responded with a deadpanned so what?
Today you were dressed typically (well, for you at least). A black and gray form-fitting sweater, and a long black denim skirt paired with tights and black mary janes. On your face was the simple black cherry stain you frequented, and the signature liner bringing out your eyes. Your stare was blank as you watched Eddie chase Max and Lucas in the Family Video parking lot, all of them wearing bright colors to show spring was in full effect.
While the others were outside basking in the fresh air and sunny skies, you preferred to stay inside. Mostly due to the fact that besides Eddie, Robin was one of the few people that did not make you want to cut off both your ears.
But Robin was in the back room doing inventory, and you could feel Steve Harrington's eyes on you for the fifth time in the past three minutes.
His stare wasn't cold or judging though. It was soft and tender, the look you'd give a lover after declaring your affections.
It made you want to throw up, but in the best way possible.
"What's your damage, Harrington?" you spoke aloud to the empty store, eyes still trained forward at the group you've slowly become a part of.
He cleared his throat, loudly. Clearly caught off guard by your awareness of his longing stare.
"E-Excuse me?" he asked, boyish adorable.
It made your stomach sick with butterflies.
Gross.
"You're staring awfully hard at my profile, just wondering what your goal is. Hoping to see a tan?" you look at him finally, noticing the pink on his cheeks that is clearly not from the sun outside.
It made you almost twitch your lips at how easy he was to fluster. Almost.
"No, no," he laughs awkwardly, "just um wondering something myself."
"That is?" you raise a brow, face showing the slightest sign of intrigue.
"Why you don't like me." he said bluntly, though his face flushed again once he looked down.
The urge to laugh was quite strong.
"I don't not like you, Steven."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Then why don't you ever talk to me?"
"Talk is cheap."
"So you enjoy just sitting in silence for extended periods of time?"
"You can learn a lot by just observing."
"Oh believe me, I know." Steve laughs lightly, eyes widening when you tilt your head at him, asking for more information.
"I've learned, from careful observation, that you keep a switchblade in your bag at all times. Seen you pull it on Eddie on multiple occasions. Hmm you also scrunch your nose when you want to smile, because god forbid anyone see you with an emotion on your face. Your lockscreen is My Melody and you have a soft spot for the color pink. Your socks are all different colors, but you only wear those when you're wearing full coverage boot. You actually love Taylor Swift and think Evermore is an incredible album. And No Body, No Crime is your favorite song by hers. Need I say more?" he smirks, looking entirely too proud of himself.
"What a way to expose that you can't keep your eyes off of me, Steven." you scrunch your nose at him, practically blooming on the inside as his eyes light up at the gesture.
"I find it hard to keep my eyes off beautiful things." he smirks.
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(first little stevie piece. woohoo!!)
