𓆩♡𓆪

   THE MUSIC HAD FADED out throughout the night. Queen suddenly became silent to Brooke. The only thing she could really hear is Steve venting next to her. The wrinkle between his eyebrows every time he explained another shitty thing his parents have said or done. The deep breaths he takes like it physically pains him to talk about it. Brooke knows exactly how he feels.

   Her question was also answered, this wasn't the first time he's hurt Steve but—it was the first time he's punched him.

Late at night is when people become vulnerable. Tiredness makes bags around their eyes as they stay up late at night talking or thinking. Scratchy voices and fighting back tears when they're too vulnerable.

   Their bodies ended up with a pillow under each of their heads and the mattress beneath their backs.

    "You know you don't deserve that, right? Like yeah, you're an asshole but no one deserves that," Brooke quietly says, her words right above a whisper. Steve tilts his head to the side, "You know you don't either, right?"

    Brooke's eyes move from the ceiling to the brown haired boy next to her. It's almost intimate. The intimacy is something that scares Brooke. Casey and Steve are different and not just for their personalities but for how Brooke feels with them.

   Brooke always felt like she was trying too hard while being with Casey. First relationship jitters—trying to make sure they don't leave so you force everything that a relationship should have.

  Casey loves cheesy things. The typical romantic shit. Brooke hated it. She hated the sweet words he spoke to her. She hated the way he would randomly kiss her but she felt obsessed with him still.

   Brooke just tells herself it's because she's never been in a relationship. She had never felt how one was supposed to be.

   But Brooke kinda hates being alone and her relationship with Casey made it so she was almost never alone. The second she is left to think, everything she stuffs down crawls up and into her brain like a virus. The self deprecating thoughts become loud, like they're banging on the back of Brooke's forehead begging her to lose her mind. Just crack. Instead of doing normal mundane reckless teenager shit, she wants to lose it.

Break shit. Smash cars with a bat. Anything to break anything.

    But no, she can't do that. She has to stay somewhat sane for El and Danny.

   Steve drowns out those thoughts. Steve isn't boring. Steve Harrington has never once left Brooke feeling bored, if anything, their years of bickering have left Brooke nothing but entertained. She doesn't feel so suffocated by Steve when she's around him. She doesn't feel forced to put on this persona because Steve has seen all the bad parts of Brooke and still talks to her so that has to mean something.

   Everyone seems to forget the difference between loving someone and being in love. You can love someone without being in love but for someone who never felt the difference, how the hell was she supposed to know?

    Brooke swallows the tension in the air, turning away from Steve and back at the ceiling, "I wonder who I'd be if my parents loved each other—or—or—were in the same shitty relationship but were good parents." She raises her eyebrow and smirks, trying to laugh off her trauma dump of a question.

    Steve laughs a bit, "That's a good question. Oh, Jeez. Maybe we wouldn't have hated each other."

   "I think that was inevitable if your dad is still your dad. Mr. Harrington hates Shawn," Brooke giggles at the thought of Steve's dad just frowning at Shawn who's at least 10 years younger than him.

   Steve thinks about it, "Yeah but if they were good parents, they wouldn't have made their problems mine. But I think we were meant to hate each other."

   They both let out breathy laughs. Both sets of eyes on the ceiling now.

    Steve's brain is racking with ideas. His fingers twitch when he notices how close they are to Brooke's. He feels calmer. Brooke just sitting and listening helped him more than he could've realized.

   Maybe I should go to therapy, Steve thinks but quickly dismisses the idea.

   Brooke takes a deep breath and looks at Steve. His side profile is—gorgeous. Brooke's eyes widen slowly and she recounts the freckles along the right side of his face.

    9 on his face.

    2 on his neck.

   Brooke narrows her eyes to make sure she counted correctly but Steve turns towards her again. Steve takes in the surprise in her face, "What?"

    "You fucked up my counting."

    "Counting what?" Steve says in the smug tone Brooke usually hates but now it lets the butterflies that she thought were clipped of their wings flutter.

   Brooke nearly bites down on her tongue when she starts to stutter a bit. She composes herself, "I hate you, Steve." Brooke's words leave her mouth but even she doesn't believe them at this point. They were more of a way to divert him from the initial conversation. She's sure he's counted his own freckles anyway.

   Steve takes his chances and scoots closer to Brooke. He's doing everything Brooke would normally hate yet her stomach is doing flips as her eyes drift to his lips.

    Steve smiles at her, "Say it again." The air is thick. Brooke almost doesn't want to breathe. She doesn't move closer to him though, she stays in her area and copies his smile, "I hate you."

   Steve's ears are red hot. Neither one of them can believe what is or might happen as Steve carefully moves even closer, leaning down so he's more aligned with Brooke's face.

   "Brooke?" Hopper aggressively knocks on her bedroom door. Brooke falls out of her bed and right onto the wooden floor, missing the green carpet. She groans, holding her back, "Did you push me, Steve?"

   Steve peaks out from the blanket he's hiding under, "No. Is he gonna kill me?"

   "Why would he kill you?" Brooke harshly whispers. Steve's mouth opens but more knocks on the door make him go right back under the blanket. He can feel his heart against the white sheets.

  Brooke pushes herself up and swings open her bedroom door, "Hopper, what is your—why do you reek of alcohol?"

    The man's cutting edge shirt now has a few buttons undone, his hair is a mess and his nose is red from alcohol consumption.

   He takes a sloppy step forward and that's when Brooke notices the fancy wine bottle in his hand. Brooke almost shuts the door on instinct thanks to years of dealing Shawn but a goofy smile goes across Hopper's face.

   "Max and El are having a sleepover," Hopper says happily. Brooke lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding and smiles back, "Yeah, yeah. Are you okay? Kinda tired of drunk people for the day."

   Steve peaks out from the blanket once again. He furrows his brows trying to figure out who's the other drunk.

   "Are you okay?" Hopper slurs slightly. Brooke raises an eyebrow, "I'm fine, Hop. Listen, tell me all about your date tomorrow. I have work. You have work. We should get some sleep—"

   "Yeah, I shouldn't interrupt your sleepover with....Steve. Better than that Casey kid that broke your heart. Still hate him for that," Hopper starts to walk away, "I should've kicked his ass!" He shouts with a laugh, going into his area of the cabin.

   Brooke shuts the door and immediately starts laughing, "He didn't kill you!"

   "No, no, he didn't!" Steve laughs with her but the slight annoyance of being interrupted by Hopper when he was so close to her makes him slam his back against the bed with a huff.

  Brooke sighs deeply before turning to Steve with a nervous smile, "So, bean bag, yeah."

      STEVE, PAISLEY AND DUSTIN hide behind the faux plants in the mall. The binoculars Steve is holding up to his eyes make Paisley roll her own. She got dragged over here by him and Dustin even though she wanted to stay with Robin and just talk nonsense.

   "You see anything?" Dustin asks. Steve scans over the many people that inhabit the mall but nothing stands out to him, "Uh, I guess I don't totally know what I'm looking for."

   Paisley groans, adjusting her position on her knees, "I can ask my dad. He would know what a Russian spy looks like."

   "You think your dad knows what evil Russians look like?" Dustin asks the girl. Paisley shrugs, "Yeah, I mean. He was in the military. He has to have an idea." After getting involved last year, Cory Slora had a tight grip on his daughter for a good month or two. She couldn't really blame him, Paisley is his only biological kid. Cory can't lose his wife and kid. It would ruin him. Paisley frowns, "Maybe it's best if we don't actually ask."

    "Okay, what do you think an evil Russian would look like, Paisley?" Steve asks, the binoculars still scanning over the mall. Paisley blanks. Anyone can be Russian, really.

  "Tall, blonde, not smiling," Dustin describes what he thinks one would look like, "Also, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing."

   "Right, okay, duffel bags," Steve says as his eyes catch kids from school being touchy-touchy with each other, "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

   Paisley and Dustin snap their necks towards Steve, "What?" The girl tries to follow the binoculars but it's hard to really see what he's actually looking at. "Anna Jacobi's talking to that meat head Mark Lewinsky!" Steve complains. Paisley sucks on her teeth at him. "If you're not gonna focus, give one of us the binoculars," Dustin tells him.

   Paisley now sees Anna and Mark kissing by the railing on the second floor. Her nose scrunches up in disgust. "Aw, Jesus Christ, whatever happened to standards? I mean, Lewinsky never even came off the bench!"

   "Steve, give me the binoculars, you ass!" Paisley reaches for the binoculars but Steve tugs them away from her. The burger shop catches Steve's eyes. Brooke wiping down the counter, side eyeing Casey makes Steve stare for a moment.

   The car ride to work wasn't necessarily awkward, the tension from the night before just never went away. A joke or two left their mouths but it was obvious to Paisley and Robin that something had happened when they all met up in the parking lot this morning.

    Paisley narrows her eyes but somehow follows the direction of the binoculars. They're right on Brooke. Steve's jaw is clenched as he takes the binoculars off and hands them to Dustin, "Here. Since you're so much better than me." Steve tells him with a sarcastic tone.

   "I don't know why you're looking at girls. You have the perfect one in front of you," Dustin huffs, now scanning the mall definitely better than Steve did. Paisley wonders the same thing. "Seriously, if you say Brooke again—"

   "Brooke," Dustin cuts him off, "Brooke, Brooke, Brooke!" Dustin repeats and Steve continuously tells him to stop. Paisley nudges the kid, tired of him repeating Brooke's name, "Alright, stop. Now you're annoying me."

    "Brooke...Brooke is complicated," Both Dustin and Paisley raise their eyes at his words and Steve continues, "Plus, she just got her heartbroken—"

   "So, we're not denying your feelings for her anymore?" Dustin asks with a teasing smile. "I—it's complicated, Dustin. You know how complicated Brooke is," Steve nudges Paisley in hopes she'll back him up. Paisley sighs, "I mean, yeah but I think she's like, over Casey romantically. Brooke just holds grudges."

  "She dropped her grudges with Steve. Did you know he slept at her house last night?" Dustin whispers the information Steve told him earlier. Paisley slowly turns her head towards him with wide eyes, "WHAT?" Her volume catches the attention of nearby people. Steve almost thinks Paisley is mad with the frown on her face. "We didn't do anything. Something happened last night and I went to see her," Steve's hand subconsciously slides across the cut on his lip that thankfully hasn't reopened.

    Dustin smirks, overhearing the two bicker about information that he definitely wasn't supposed to relay. Steve nervously adjusts himself, "Plus, I don't think Brooke would want the world knowing she likes me or some shit." Paisley rolls her eyes so far back it gives her a migraine, "Brooke doesn't care about that stuff. If Brooke likes you, Brooke will be loyal, almost to a fault, honestly."

   Brooke has surrounded herself by many different people over the years. The perfect girl, Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan the weirdo Byers. Drug dealer who has been held back, Eddie Munson. Brooke doesn't give a shit. Steve should know that. If anything, her bad reputation would be sweetened by dating Steve.

    "Yeah, instead of dating somebody you think's gonna make you cooler, why not date somebody you actually enjoy being around? Like Brooke! Or...Paisley—"

   "Dustin, ew," Paisley fakes a gag. Never. Never ever. Dustin throws his hands up, "Alright, alright. Sorry but I'm right. Like me and Suzie."

  "Oh, Suzie. Yeah, you mean, hotter than Phoebe Cates. Yeah, that Suzie. And, uh, let's think about it. How exactly did you score that beautiful girlfriend?" Steve scratches at his head, narrowing his eyes at Dustin, "Oh, yeah. With my advice."

      Paisley scoffs, "Yeah, because showing up to Brooke's house is really showing that you don't care. Uh, huh."

   Steve presses his lips together with a tilt of his head towards Paisley. The girl copies the look on his face before playfully shoving Steve's face away.

       THUNDER AND RAIN OUTSIDE makes the crowded mall even more crowded. There goes Brooke's idea of sitting by the pool later.

    "Thank you so much, guys," Brooke forces a smile on her face, taking the cash and her tip from the old couple at the table. They thank her before she walks away, smiling dropping from her face.

   "That was your last one of the day. You're off the clock. I still got 30 more minutes," Stella sighs. Brooke takes a look around. Casey isn't here. "Where's Casey?" She asks dryly, trying to sound like she doesn't give a shit. Stella can't help the smile that forms at the mere mention of her best friend, "Oh, he's at Scoops helping with the Russians," She whispers.

   Brooke takes a deep breath, annoyed to no end that Casey is at the very place she's going to, "Oh, great. Beautiful. I'm leaving. Bye, Stella."

  "Bye, Brooke," Stella smiles.

   Not wanting to see Casey just yet, Brooke takes a quick walk around the mall. The jazz place to the right of her lights up with energy as the instructor starts the music. Tight leggings and bright bodysuits cling to the women. Brooke's eyes light up but the guilt of staring at the women's asses makes her sulk.

    She continues to walk but stops in her tracks when she sees Paisley, Steve and Dustin peaking their heads out behind a wall.

    Their eyes are glued to the same thing she was just looking at. Steve's eyes are glued to it. Brooke coming into view immediately shifts Steve's gaze to her.

   "Hi, losers," Brooke shouts as loud as she can. "Oh, Brooke. We were just talking about you!" Dustin smiles but Steve punches him on the arm. Brooke and Steve glance at each other. Both of them want to say something. Words that dare to slip out. "Really?" Brooke raises an eyebrow.

   "Yeah, all good things. These dinguses had me looking for Russian spies with them," Paisley slings an arm over Brooke's shoulders with a smile. Steve and Brooke's eyes keep sneaking glances at each other. The cut on Steve's lip free of blood and now the light bruising is forming.

   They walk alongside each other and eventually get back to Scoops Ahoy!

   "Yo, Robin. You're not gonna believe who Dustin thought was a Russian," Steve scoffs. "You did too," Dustin corrects him. "No, I did not—"

   "Yes, yes you did, Steve," Paisley rolls her eyes. Robin doesn't listen to a word they said though, she runs between Steve and Dustin and out of the shop.

   Casey quickly swings open the back door confused. "Do you know why she's running like a mad woman?" Paisley points in the direction Robin ran.

   Casey shrugs and moves carefully around Brooke who shoots daggers into him, "She was getting a shipment and then something—clicked." He chases after her. The others not far behind him.

    Paisley watches Robin spin around, mumbling and writing down things. They all stand in front of her. "Robin," Steve calls out. Robin looks away from the clock and down at her friends, specifically Paisley.

   "Robbi," The nickname leaves her mouth like honey, "What ya doin'?"

   "I cracked it," Robin simply answers. Steve shakes his head, "Cra—Cracked what?" Robin hops down the little ledge she was on right in front of Steve. She glances at Casey, "I cracked the code."

   Casey's jaw drops a bit, "You cracked the code?" He asks with excitement. Robin nods excessively. "Oh, you're so smart, Buckley. No wonder I copy your notes. So, what's the code?" Brooke lightly punches Robin's bicep.

———-

i lowkey hate this chapter but it's fine. i'm sorry there's so much dialogue i wanna build up friendships more <\3