Requested by Harringtonswife-
In the eighties, no one talks about their mental health. You're either healthy or insane. I tried talking to my parents about it but my dad doesn't believe in all that "mumbo jumbo". My mom told me it was all in my head and if I stayed there, she'd have to send me to a mental hospital.
The only person who responded in a positive and supportive way was my best friend, Steve Harrington. When I told Steve that I was struggling and wasn't able to fix it or get out of the dark hole I seem to continually throw myself into, he was the one who suggested that I might be struggling with depression. He then wrapped me in a hug and promised that he would always be there to pull me out.
Even though Steve was extremely supportive, I found myself a little hesitant to run to him. After I told him, he slowly started to change. He constantly checked on me, jumped to protect me before anything happened, and eagerly helped me with anything no matter how small.
Our friends didn't notice Steve's change. He always seemed crazily protective of me to them. They aren't wrong, but I've noticed his changes. At lunch, he started draping his arm across the back of my chair.
I was worried our friends would notice and, most importantly, notice how it made my whole face burn. All of that would disappear when I started getting anxious and Steve would move his arm from my chair to my shoulders. I don't know how he always knew when I needed his comfort, but he did. Without fail.
Today was no different. The day started with my alarm not going off and having to get ready in ten minutes. Then my mom's car wouldn't start so my dad had to drop me off at school before he went to work. It only got worse from there.
First period, I could barely stay awake. Second period, I had forgotten we had a math test and I definitely failed it. Then I got paired with the dumbest player on the basketball team for our history project and he was more focused on flirting with me than getting any work done. Now I was heading to lunch.
"Hey, you," Steve said the second I sat down. "You okay?"
"She got paired with Andy for the history project," Carol laughed.
"That sucks!" Tommy laughed.
"I bet he's going to flirt with you the whole time," Carol fake gagged. "Then again. . . He's pretty cute."
"She could do better," Tommy scoffed. "Right, Harrington?"
Steve reached under the table and grabbed my hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "If he gives you any problems, tell me."
"Steve," I started but he cut me off.
"I mean it, Y/N. If he says anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or, I swear, if he touches you. . ."
"Dude, chill," Tommy laughed. "He hasn't even done anything yet. They just got assigned today. Wait until next week to kill him."
Steve rolled his eyes and went back to eating without letting go of my hand. He looked over, his eyebrows fluttering in confusion.
"Why aren't you eating?" He asked softly. "Aren't you hungry?"
"I am," I said, clearing my throat.
"Then why aren't you eating?" Steve pushed.
"I was running late this morning and didn't have time to make my lunch," I explained under my breath.
I looked up at him when he pushed his lunch between the two of us.
"What are you. . ."
"Eat," he said.
"But Steve. . ."
"If you think I'm letting my best friend starve, you're crazy," Steve laughed as he ate a grape.
"Skipping lunch is not going to make me starve," I giggled, hiding my blush. I looked away and cleared my throat when I saw Carol's knowing smirk.
"Oh," Steve said in the middle of Carol and Tommy's latest fight. "Dustin wants to know if you're coming to watch their D&D campaign tonight."
"I don't know why you guys spend so much time with those kids," Tommy scoffed. "They're a bunch of little. . ."
"Don't finish that sentence," Steve cut him off, his voice changing. I squeezed his hand that I was still holding under the table.
"So?" He asked as he turned toward me, his tone changing again. "You in?"
"Sure," I shrugged. "Although I'm a little surprised you want to go sit in the Wheeler's basement and watch them play D&D."
"To be honest, I'm not going to watch them play," Steve said, not looking at me.
"Then why are you going?" Carol asked, almost sounding like she knew the answer to that.
Steve looked up and glared at her. He then saw me watching him and softened his glare.
"I'm going to hang out with you," he said, his cheekbones slightly turning pink.
"We hang out all the time," I giggled, eating some of the cheese Steve packed.
"And he just can't get enough," Carol said sweetly.
I looked away when Tommy started to 'aw' but it turned into a gag. I started to let go of Steve's hand, but his hold on mine tightened.
"Do you hear yourself?" Tommy asked harshly. "You two are best friends. You blow us off all the time to be with her. How many times have you skipped a party because Y/N wasn't going to be there? Or she needed someone to help her study. Or that lame excuse you always use that you'd rather spend time with her."
"I would rather spend time with Y/N than with you," Steve said, his anger building.
"You're practically glued to her hip," Tommy scoffed. "I'm surprised she doesn't know that you. . ."
I stood up and quickly ran out of the cafeteria. Steve and Tommy have been fighting a lot more over the years. Each time they start, so does my panic attack. I ran to the bathroom, locking myself in a stall.
A few seconds later, I heard the door open. I held my breath, waiting for them to leave.
"Y/N?" Nancy's voice echoed through the bathroom. "I saw you run in here. You okay?"
When I didn't respond, she added, "Steve's looking for you. He seems really worried. There's no one else in here so I'm sending him in."
I heard soft footsteps walking toward the stall I was hiding in. I looked down and instantly recognized Steve's sneakers. I took a shaky breath when he knocked.
"Y/N," he whispered. "Please open the door."
With shaking hands, I opened it. I instantly wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away from the door.
"I'm sorry about running away," I stuttered under my breath. "You know how I get when you and Tommy start fighting. I hate that it always sends me into a panic attack, but I can't control it."
Steve grabbed my arms and pulled me into his chest. He sighed as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I'm sorry we started fighting in front of you," he whispered. "I just hate how they treat you. It infuriates me when Tommy makes our friendship seem like a joke. Next time, just punch me in the arm and I'll stop."
"I'm not going to hit you," I said with a small giggle. I tightened my arms around him as I added, "I could never hurt you."
* * * * *
Over the next couple of days, I struggled with my depression. I started having mini panic attacks every day. Steve caught most of them, and with each one he stopped, a worse one was hiding until he wasn't around.
I woke up today, stuck in my pit of depression. I spent the morning, not able to put a smile on my face. I hid my face behind my textbooks and notes. No one seemed to care. But then again, I don't see Steve until lunch. The class before lunch, I looked down and my hands started shaking. I was starting to have a panic attack and I couldn't stop it.
As soon as the bell rang, I jumped up and left the classroom. "Geez. Slow down, weirdo."
I looked up, my heart jumping into my throat when I saw Carol and Tommy standing in front of me.
"Off to your dear Stevie?" Carol cooed.
"We all are," I mumbled, tightening my arms around my books. "We're going to lunch."
"When are you going to admit that you're obsessively in love with him?" Tommy scoffed.
"What?" I stuttered. "I don't know. . . It's not. . ."
"Aww!" Carol giggled. "It's so cute that she pretends she doesn't know."
"Steve and Y/N, sitting in a tree," Tommy started singing. As they sang the rest of the song, they started dancing around me.
"What are you guys doing?" Steve asked as he ran over. He brushed past Tommy and grabbed my hand, slightly pulling me behind him.
"We weren't doing anything," Carol sighed, rolling her eyes.
"It didn't look like nothing," Steve scoffed. "It looked like you were. . ."
"Stop," I whispered. "Please, Steve. Stop."
"Y/N," he said, turning around to face me. I looked at his soft eyes and then at the knowing, judgy looks of his friends. I couldn't take it anymore. I pulled my hand out of his and turned on my heel.
"Wait!" Steve yelled but I didn't stop.
I didn't stop until I got to my car. I drove home and pulled into my usual spot. I turned off my car with shaking hands. I slowly got out, barely able to get my breathing under control. I froze when I turned and saw Steve jogging up the driveway.
"I told you I was fine."
"I know," he smiled at me. "But I also know the signs that you're stuck in one of your depression episodes. And if I don't act fast, you'll just go deeper into it."
"I don't know why you feel like you have to act," I said, looking down at my feet. Steve stepped toward me and gently lifted my head.
"Because you're my best friend," he whispered. "It's my job."
"Steve. . ."
"I know what I can do to cheer you up."
"Please don't," I sighed.
"Take the old records off the shelf," he started to sing. "I'll sit and listen to 'em by myself. Today's music ain't got the same soul. I like that old-time rock 'n' roll."
I giggled and playfully pushed him. He caught my arm and pulled me into my chest.
"So now are you going to tell me what Carol and Tommy said to you?"
"It's not a big deal. . ."
"Y/N," Steve said knowingly. "Talk to me."
"They were making jokes about me going to find you," I explained. Before he could ask why that would send me into an anxiety attack, I continued, "Then Tommy pointed something out that I realized he was right about."
"What did he point out?" Steve asked.
"That maybe. . . That there's a possibility that I. . . I doubt it's the same for you but. . ."
"Hey," he whispered. He gently wrapped his arms around my waist and smiled down at me. "What did Tommy point out?"
"He suggested," I said slowly, "that I might. . . have feelings for you."
Steve's breath got caught in his throat as he studied me. He loosened his arms, taking a small step back.
"Do you?" He asked under his breath.
"Maybe? I'm not sure, honestly. . . Would it be a bad thing?"
Steve smiled as he reached up and gently cupped my face in his hand. "I guess not," he whispered. "Especially because I might have feelings for you."
"You do?"
I held my breath as he slowly leaned in. He stopped when his nose pressed against mine. I felt lightheaded when his breath touched my face. He slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. The lightheadedness got worse as our lips touched.
"Of course I do," he whispered, breaking the kiss. "Would it be a bad thing?"
"I guess not."