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.*･｡. A DEAL WITH GOD! .*･｡.
————WILL THE WISE
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013.
CLUB EXORCISM.
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Steve could keep a secret.

After all, he had sworn on his life — literally, he signed papers and everything — to never breathe a word about the alien that'd been let loose accidentally by the government, last year. And so far, Steve had stayed awfully quiet about that.

So, when Ashley Miller had asked him to stay quiet about how she had an ability to dive into people's minds, he intended to stay completely silent.

   After all, it shouldn't be too hard for him to do.

   Should it?

Okay, maybe Steve was a bit of a blabbermouth — a total and utter blabbermouth, actually, but that was more about things that weren't so serious. Like when he told the whole student body that the cafeteria meatloaf was made of roadkill, because that was the information he had sourced from Ricky Thomas, which ended up being a total lie but a funny story. Kinda.

The point was, Steve was sure he could keep this secret.

At least, that was what he decided when they crawled out of the bathroom's window, shortly after.

Steve was still processing, trying to understand what the hell he had just been told and how it was even possible. He couldn't quite comprehend it, though he supposed he had never been what many would consider to be the smartest person in any room. In fact, the history teacher he'd had in freshman year had very clearly told him that he was, and he quoted, the dumbest boy to ever step foot in this class. So no, Steve didn't think he was particularly brainy, and Steve didn't understand what Ashley had told him, either, but that didn't mean he would be dumb enough to just reveal her secret. Even though it occurred to him that, once again, he was failing to tell someone who could potentially help her — a teacher, the guidance councillor, her father; anyone. And, by failing to tell somebody, Steve was, in turn, failing Ashley Miller all over again.

But wouldn't betraying her trust be failing her, too?

Honestly, at this point, Steve wasn't sure.

He'd always had kinda wishy-washy morals. King Steve did what he wanted, when he wanted to.

It wasn't like he had ever acted like a moral compass. No— that would have been bogus. Steve could hardly tell his rights from his lefts let alone whether he had the moral obligation to tell Ashley's dad about her ability. He did. He knew he did deep down, but that didn't feel like the right thing to do for Ashley. Sometimes you had to respect somebody's wishes rather than do what was best for the person, regardless all those other factors — like safety, and morals and all that shit.

Perhaps that was shitty of him. Perhaps he should have held her safety in higher regard. But perhaps, at the very same time, Steve knew Ashley was trusting him with this — this very private, super secret, bucket of trauma.

She trusted him.

Above all else, Steve knew he couldn't break that trust.

"So... you can talk to God?"

Personally, Ashley thought that was a gross misunderstanding. Perhaps an overgeneralisation, too, but what was Steve to know? She had only told him about all of this very briefly over that last thirty minutes spent in the bathroom, hiding away from the wide world that lurked in the halls. How was he supposed to know the ins and outs?

As they stood behind the bathroom block, away from all prying eyes that might have been looking for them, Ashley thought about her answer and how to even verbalise it.

She hadn't spoken to God in years, and when she did he never really replied. It was more that he spoke to her.

"Well, not really—"

"Do you, like, pray?" Steve asked.

"No," Ashley shook her head, sending him an odd look. "He's, like, this voice in my head. I don't always hear him and I've never spoken to him—"

"Are you even religious?" He interrupted.

   Ashley blinked.

    "Like, do you believe he exists and all that shit?"

"N—" her brows furrowed as words failed her for a very brief moment, good question. Ashley had never stopped to think about it before. She'd never asked herself something quite like that. In all the years she had lived with God in her head, lingering in a dark corner that she couldn't quite find, Ashley had never — not even once — thought about that. Her voice was confused, just as she'd felt in that moment, "No..."

"Huh," Steve nodded, slowly.

"Huh," she echoed.

"So you made a deal with God..." he reflected, "And he let's you swap places?"

"Basically," she said, "More or less."

"With... people?"

Her face fell, "You don't believe me, do you?"

It was a stupid question.

Of course he didn't believe her. Who in their right mind would believe that she had made a deal with God? That she could swap places with people? That sounded insane, it was insane, and she'd never felt so much regret in telling somebody something in her life. Why did she have to tell somebody? After so many years, why now? And why Steve Harrington?

   She was stupid to think that he would believe her. But his eyes, they had looked so sincere. So genuine.

   Steve sighed.

"It's crazy," he shook his head, "Completely crazy, like so crazy that I'm debating checking you into rehab or something— or like, taking you to a church for some sorta poltergeist exorcism bullshit, or whatever it is..." Steve then shrugged, "But I totally believe you."

Ashley's eyes widened.

"Really?"

"Sure," he said.

For a moment, Ashley was stunned. He believed her. He believed her. He believed her. He believed her. He believed her.

Steve Harrington believed that she could trade places with the people around her— that, if she wished, she could jump into the mind of her choice and live vicariously through them. Even with how completely unbelievable that was, he still believed her. And it didn't sound like some sort of lie to make her feel better, or to lure her into a false sense of security before he went and told the wide world how insane she was. No— Steve Harrington believed her, a genuine, wholehearted belief. She could tell by the sincerity in his deep eyes, which contrasted the perhaps unintended quips off his tongue. He really believed her.

What did she do, now?

"Oh," was all she could breathe.

"You sound disappointed," Steve frowned, "Was I not meant to believe you?"

"No— no," Ashley shook her head, "I just..."

"Didn't think I would?"

She nodded.

"Maybe I wouldn't have," Steve relented, then frowned. "But, Miller, I literally saw your eyes roll back like some freaking demon! Alright? No offence, but that was really fucked."

Only mildly offended, Ashley rolled her eyes. She peered down at the blood stains in her cheer uniform and sighed; he had a point.

"Not really my choice, Steve."

"Right..."

   Steve was still unsure about all the little details. After all, how could he possibly understand everything about her ability? Not even Ashley understood everything about her ability. At least, he got that impression from everything she had told him in the last half hour — and, admittedly, it had been a summarised version. The briefer run down.

   Limited edition, if you will.

   Emphasis on limited.

   Telling him everything wasn't really on Ashley's agenda.

   Not because she didn't trust him— because, oddly enough, she did trust him and she hadn't the faintest clue why. She hardly knew Steve Harrington, and yet she had told him things she never told anyone. Her deepest, darkest secret.

Ashley had just... sweetened it up, a little.

She hadn't lied. But she hadn't told him the whole truth, either. Ashley had told Steve the vaguely important parts; the parts that would explain why she kept bleeding from her nose and losing all consciousness, the parts that would explain what she could do, as well as the parts that hopefully explained why. But she hadn't told him the extra bits. Like, the fact that her father had been a drunk when they lost her mother — Steve didn't need to know that part yet. He also didn't know that it was Will Byers' mind she had been dipping in and out of over the past week.

   You know, the minor things.

    "So, this kid..."

   As Steve trailed off uncertainly, she nodded.

    "You can't choose whether you go into his mind, or not?" His question was reasonable.

    "No," Ashley answered him. "Maybe I could go in if I wanted to, but..." her cheeks paled slightly, eyes flitting to the ground as a memory surfaced, "Every time I get dragged in there..."

   Steve listened.

    "The less I wanna go back in."

    "What do you..." Steve seemed hesitant. He wasn't sure if this was something he should even ask, but curiosity did nothing if not kill the cat. "What do you see?"

   Ashley's voice was a whisper.

    "Horrible things."

Horrible things.

Steve knew all about seeing horrible things.

Bursting flames, guns and nails, creatures with no face — and it, even then, wasn't the worst of it. Steve had seen nothing compared to Nancy, to Hopper and Joyce, to Barb, to Will Byers. From what it had sounded, Steve hadn't seen anything even remotely close. And by the look on Ashley's face, she might have seen something just as terrible as them. Maybe worse.

    "Sometimes," her eyes focused in on nothing in particular, just not meeting his gaze, dazed and hazy. "Sometimes I see what he sees. I usually see what he sees," she revealed, "But today... when I fell in the gymnasium... I was there. I saw him. And I saw him—" she stopped.

   Steve refrained himself from asking what else she had seen. He watched her lip tremble. His gut stirred.

   For a moment, his eyes flitted to her shaky hands. They toyed at the bottom of her sweater, and Steve briefly debated reaching out.

   He didn't, of course.

   Wouldn't that be weird?

   They weren't exactly friends. Sure, they had spoken more times this week than they probably ever had, and Ashley had just told an almighty secret to him that she had never told anybody else, but the two of them weren't friends. Not enough for him to hold her hand; not enough for him to bring her any decent amount of comfort. At best, they were close acquaintances.

   Suddenly, Steve wished he was her friend, even if only to supply her with some comfort.

Ashley shook her head, "I just saw something terrible happen to him. Something awful, and I haven't done anything about it."

"What would you do?" Steve's brow knotted.

Her head shot up to frown at him.

"I don't know— tell his mother?!" Ashley hissed, as if it was an obvious answer.

"And say what?" He challenged.

"I— I—" she trailed off, uncertain. "I would think of something! Anything," Ashley shrugged helplessly, "He probably doesn't even know I'm in his mind— I have to tell somebody!"

Steve thought.

She had a point. After all, whoever this kid was, they were still a kid. Young, vulnerable, and clearly going through some shit — the kinda shit that traumatised teenage cheerleaders. As an older party in the situation, Ashley did have a responsibility to tell someone. So did Steve, now.

And, morally, he knew that Ashley had to tell his mother — Steve with all these morals again, jeez! — not only because that was just how morals worked, but also because she was a good person. Maybe he didn't know her well but Steve knew Ashley Miller enough to know that she was good. She valued other people, unlike most assholes. It was a trait that Steve himself had struggled with, but not Ashley. It was what had made her so likeable (amongst other things) to like, a vast majority of Hawkins.

"Then we'll tell somebody."

Ashley blinked.

"We?"

"Yeah," Steve nodded nonchalantly, kicking off the wall and to a stand. He shrugged, "You said that somebody needs to know. So we'll go let somebody know,"

"And you think it'll be that easy?" She asked.

"No," he said, "But clearly this isn't gonna get any better for you or this kid, so we'll just have to do it."

Ashley sighed, "They'll think I'm crazy."

"I didn't," Steve reminded. Which, really, was kind of a lie. He had thought she was totally crazy at first. Plus Steve had a bit of an unfair advantage — he had seen some pretty crazy things himself. So, unless this kid was involved in fighting off an alien last year, he had a feeling it wouldn't go quite as swimmingly. But, he didn't say that obviously.

"You didn't," she agreed, then sighed. "Why?"

Steve didn't know how to answer, not without spilling his guts on everything that happened to Will Byers last year. So, he cocked his head to the side coyly. "Crossed my heart, didn't I?"

Her eyes softened.

She bit her lip, "You'd really go with me?"

"Sure," Steve told her, "It's not like I have anywhere to be." He looked down at his basket ball uniform then smiled cheekily; "The pep rally was kinda cancelled 'cause this crazy girl fainted, so..."

Ashley laughed.

A real laugh.

Like a this is the worst joke ever and I should probably burst into tears but I've cried too much today and I needed this laugh kinda laugh.

Steve beamed in pride.

When she calmed, Ashley breathed a final giggle; "You know, I never thought anybody would know about this. I thought it was a secret I'd die with or something," she shrugged, "But you took it a whole lot better than I expected."

"Yeah, well..." my life is signed over to the government, "It's not the craziest thing I've heard."

She hummed, amused but disbelieving.

"And what is?"

He paused, he couldn't say.

"Well the same crazy girl told me I didn't look like Tom Cruise when I was dressed exactly like him."

Ashley gawped, "I just don't see it!"

"No, no I think I agree with you." Steve uttered. He ducked his head down to her height and ruffled his hair, "'Cause I'm the way more handsome one— right?"

"Totally,"

    "You know it's true."

   Ashley smiled.

    "Whatever you say, Mr Rock and Roll."

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