Bad At Love| Steddie x Harringrove |

1. Moving In

Chapter One- S.H

Steve arrived at the college dorms, looking at his hallway that seemed to be empty— since they were building new ones. He sniffed, it smelt like some sort of lavender— but he doesn't really know how to feel about lavender.

He was here at Hawkins University— unsure of what he even wants to do in college.

The duffel bag on his shoulder felt heavier than it should've. Maybe nerves. Maybe reality. He wasn't sure which one was worse.

He walked slowly down the bare hallway, fluorescent lights flickering overhead, the sound of his footsteps echoing like he was the only living soul in this entire wing. Maybe he was. Everyone else had moved in earlier; Steve... procrastinated. Not shocking.

Room 2B.
Peeling gold numbers. A sticky note from the RA that read "Welcome, Steve!" with a smiley face. He stared at it for a moment before peeling it off and sticking it inside the door frame. Too cheerful for how he felt.

He stepped inside.

The dorm was small. Not "cute small." More like "wow, okay, I guess this is my life now" small.

A bed, a desk, a closet. No roommate— one of the few perks of signing up last minute. Family Video let him take a break for school, but he still planned to work part-time. Robin said she'd visit as often as possible, and Steve clung to that promise like a lifeline.

He set his bag on the bed, ran a hand through his hair, and tried to feel excited.

He failed.

"Alright," he muttered to himself. "This is... fine."

Then a door slammed somewhere down the hallway.

Loud footsteps. Heavy boots. A deep, irritated voice muttering curses.

Steve peeked out his door just in time to see a guy walking past — tall, muscular, sun-bleached curls pushed back with a pair of sunglasses even though they were indoors. He smelled like expensive cologne and trouble.

Billy Hargrove.

Steve recognized him from the small orientation . He remembered those eyes — sharp, blue, like they could cut someone in half if he stared too long. Billy glanced over briefly, just enough for their gazes to collide.

He didn't smile.

He smirked.

"New boy," Billy drawled, slowing his walk for a step. "Didn't think Harringtons came in... softer models."

Steve opened his mouth. Closed it. Managed, "I—I'm not soft."

Billy's smirk grew.
"Sure you're not."

Then he kept walking, boots thudding away until the hallway swallowed him.

Steve stood there blinking at empty space.

"...okay," he said to himself, "that happened."

He shut his door and leaned against it for a moment, heart beating faster than it should've at a three-second interaction. He didn't even know the guy. Didn't want to know the guy. Right?

He unpacked for a few minutes — shirts, jeans, a single photo of him and Robin giving the camera matching middle fingers — and tried to settle in.

Then someone else appeared in his doorway.

This time it was a different energy entirely — soft knock, friendly face, long hair tied back with a bandana, guitar case hanging off his shoulder. Eddie Munson leaned against the frame like he lived there.