Secrets // Steve Harrington

Chapter Fifty-One - Me and You

Word Count: 5,024 words. 

Warnings: None.

I wasn't sure how long I had been sitting in the room. In solitary. I couldn't remember what it was that I had done to get thrown in the room, but it had been bad.

I hated the silence that accompanied solitude. It was in the name, of course. Solitude insinuated that you were alone. I knew many people that found comfort in such silence, but it was the only thing that terrified me.

I had bitten my nails down to nothing in an attempt to distract myself, but I remember that there had been no voices.

When the door opened again, after how long I couldn't tell, I quickly crawled to the corner of the small room, hugging my knees to my chest in fear. In fear of him.

One was the man who entered, but whether he was the man that I was scared of, I couldn't tell. He did not rush to my side, nor make an effort to shield my eyes from the light. I had been in darkness until he entered.

He pressed his back against the cold wall and moved to sit beside me. Without looking, he took my small, child-like hands into his and tried to rub away the blood.

"You should not hurt yourself," he told me, words perfect.

"Silence," I told him, turning to look at my friend. Why was he my friend? "Hate."

He nodded slowly, reaching around to place an arm over my shoulder and hug me into his side. "When we leave here, we will find a loud place. A place where there is no silence at all."

I remember looking up at him with a smile. "Safe."

"Yes, Two," he assured, holding my hands tightly together. "I will create a world for us, where we will be safe. Where nothing there will want to harm you, only to protect you."

"Why?"

He smiled. I don't remember seeing him smile, at least not that often. "We are a pair Two, until the world ends. Me and you."

ᵜᵜᵜᵜᵜ

There was a different kind of silence the next time I was aware of the world. It was a filled silence. A silence with the beeping of machines and the movement of people around me. It was comfortable.

"Any change?" a voice asked. It was familiar, but I could not put a name to it.

Another answered. "Nothing," they paused. "Do you think she can hear us?"

"I'd like to hope so kid." It was Hopper's voice.

There was movement again, voices that I didn't recognise ushering Hopper out of the room to talk to him. The comfortable silence returned.

"Munson," he spoke, and I knew that it was Steve. I could feel his hand in mine, his thumb rubbing gentle circles across my skin. "You can't keep sleeping in. This is two times in the past week."

I could hear how he tried to use sarcasm, both to comfort himself and to keep true to himself. If there was anything that Steve Harrington thought he was, it was funny.

"Your brother is worried about you," he tried then, "and your uncle. They've gone to get some sleep. I haven't been home in three days..." – his tone turned – "... I have nothing to go home to, and you're here so what else am I supposed to do?"

He dropped his head then – I could feel the strands of his hair against my skin. "Wake up Thalia, wake up."

I took a deep breath then, slowly opening my eyes to see him resting by my beside. I placed a hand on his head, running my fingers through his hair. Able to see the IV in my hand, I knew that I was in the hospital.