A/N - This chapter was inspired by the song One Of Them Days by Kiana Ledé, which I absolutely adore. I hope you all enjoy it.
You had spent almost all morning curled up on the couch, eyes just staring blankly at the TV as it played a selection of stupid sit-coms, over and over. You hated to admit that this sort of thing was becoming more and more common recently. The further you got away from the events that had torn Hawkins apart in front of your eyes, the more you grew anxious about it happening again. You could feel, deep down in the pit of your stomach, that something bad was coming, and you couldn't quite put your finger on what exactly it was.
Most days, you could bury the thoughts deep in the recesses of your mind. You could push them out and pretend that the growing dread didn't make you feel sick every time it reared its ugly head. You could keep busy and forget about it for a little while, forcing yourself to take on extra shifts at work and pretending that it was more about keeping on top of your rent than trying to keep your mind occupied.
And then, you had the other days. The days where it was all just a little too overwhelming and you wanted nothing more than to retreat and hide away. You didn't want to see anyone. You didn't want to do anything. You just needed to sit and accept the pain for a little while. Sure, it sucked, but it wasn't like you had much choice in the matter.
Steve had noticed the changes in you. Of course, he had. He'd known you back then. And sure, at that point, you hadn't been dating, but that didn't mean he hadn't seen how badly the events had affected you. And now, he was starting to see the effects again. The blankness in your expression when you thought no one was looking. The fake smiles and laughter when they were. And shit, it was killing him to watch you sink back in on yourself again.
He'd let himself into your apartment that afternoon with his spare key. He'd called first, or at least, he'd tried to. And when you hadn't answered, he'd stopped in at your work, only to find that you'd called in sick that morning. So, with worry ebbing through him, he'd decided to pop over to your place and check up on you.
"Baby?" he called out, pressing the door shut quietly behind him, brow furrowed as he took a few steps into the apartment. He could hear your TV playing quietly in the lounge, poking his head around the corner to find you in the position you'd been in all day. "Hey, Sweetheart," he hummed, leaning over the back of the couch to rub your shoulder gently, watching as you blinked up at him in confusion.
"What are you doing here?" you muttered, brow furrowing slightly as you shuffled up into a sitting position, tugging your blanket tighter around you.
Steve swallowed, a little hurt at how put out you seemed by his sudden appearance. "I stopped in at your work on my break and Sophie told me you were sick. Just thought I'd come over and see if there was anything I could do to help-"
"I'm fine," you interrupted, your eyes drifting back over to the screen for a moment, silently hoping that maybe he would just leave you be if you put on a good enough show of being okay.
"Have you eaten today?" he murmured, ignoring your comment completely as he watched you carefully. You didn't seem like yourself. Sure, you had bad days, but you'd never been so short with him before. He'd hoped that seeing you would put his mind at ease, but instead, the worry was now gnawing at his stomach, building and building until it made him feel a little sick. "Had any water?" he pressed on, seeing your eyes shift to look at him again.
"I can take care of myself-"
"Answer the question," he interrupted, his voice a little sharper than you had been expecting. "Have you had anything to eat?"
You swallowed down the lump in your throat, shaking your head. "I'm not hungry."
"I'll make you something-"
"I don't want anything," you started, catching his arm before he could make his way into the kitchen. "I just want to sit here and be on my own."
He hesitated for a moment. "You need to eat," he reminded you, unlatching your fingers from his wrist as delicately as he could manage, lowering your hand until it was resting on the couch cushions. "I'll make you a sandwich real quick and bring you some water, and then I'll leave you alone, alright?"
You watched him with watery eyes for a moment, before clearing your throat and nodding. "Okay," you agreed softly.
When Steve returned with your food a couple of minutes later, you'd felt horrid for a completely different reason. He was trying to help you and you were being a total asshole about it.
"I'm sorry," you murmured, your tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip. "I just need to be on my own, you know?"
A small smile pulled at his lips as he placed the plate down in front of you. And then he was crouching down beside you, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "We all cope with this stuff differently," he agreed softly. "If this is how you cope, then who am I to make you feel bad for it?"
A soft shaking sigh slipped out of you, relief washing over you. "Thank you," you hummed, leaning forward to press your forehead into his shoulder for a moment. "I promise I'll be back to normal tomorrow. I just need today."
Steve patted your knee lightly as he got to his feet. "Just call me if you need me, okay?"
"Okay," you breathed out, watching him as he moved towards the door.
He pointed back at the coffee table in front of you. "Eat," he reminded you, offering you a sweet smile before letting himself out of your apartment.
You'd woken Steve up the next morning, calling him as soon as you were awake, feeling a hell of a lot lighter than you had the day before.
"Hey Baby," he'd hummed softly, his voice still thick with sleep. "Since when did you ever wake up before 8 am?"
A soft chuckle fell off your lips. A real laugh. And Steve could've sworn that he'd never heard a sound so pretty in all his life.
"I just woke up missing you," you told him. "Thought I could come over if you aren't working-"
"You're feeling better today?" he hummed out, smiling softly to himself as you hesitated.
You swallowed down the lump in your throat. "A lot better," you agreed softly.
"Then get that pretty butt of yours over here, pronto," he murmured. "Use the spare key, yeah? I'll still be in bed when you get here."
Another snort of laughter slipped out of you, and you were already out of bed before you could change your mind. "I'll see you soon, Stevie."
"See you soon, Baby."
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