𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵

❛  I love you, Harrington! ❜

❦

The shed door in the Garcia's back garden flies open and rattles the wooden hut as Malia takes a step inside, her eyes flicking over the cluttered walls and worktops. Her father's equipment untouched since his death.

She entered in search for a weapon, but gets quickly distracted by the photos pinned into the beams. With a grumble, she skips over the whole family ones and pauses on a slightly ripped image of Malia and Thomas. She's threatening him with her fists in a jokey way while he laughs, his mouth wide open and a hand on his chest. They had to be around five, or possibly younger, judging by the square glasses stuck on Malia's face.

She bites her lip, smiling gently before ripping the photo from its place and shoving the thin paper into her jean's back pocket before turning around to survey the rest of the shed.

Her father used to have a gun, she knows that but Sasha Garcia was adamant on hiding it away from her children, so Malia had crossed that off her weapons list, instead searching for any sharp surface.

Finally, her eyes land on an axe, hung on a tiny hook just by a window. It's exactly like the ones you find dotted around large business buildings in case of emergency. Without hesitation, she takes a large step forward, ripping the heavy tool off it's perch and swinging it by her side, slightly surprised by the weight.

"I apologised." A voice speaks gently from the door way, "To Nancy."

Malia's eyes widen and she quickly places the axe on the work bench beside her before whirling round to face her best friend, "Well done, Steve. I'm sure she's wrapped around your finger again, congrats."

He rolls his eyes, leaning against the door frame, "No, like, properly apologised. . . sincerely." He holds his palm out, stopping her from speaking again when he notices her face screw up, "Look, Mal, I came to say sorry to you too."

She raises an eyebrow, "Why?"

"What? What do you mean why?" He stares at her, "Because I was a dick to you."

"You're always a dick to me. It's nothing new to me. Unfortunately, I've had to endure thirteen years of the shit," She shrugs, "Nancy, on the other hand, didn't expect to be getting involved with such an impulse angry boy."

"Malia, don't even act like you aren't a dick to me too," He snorts before slowly letting his face drop as another thought entered his mind, "I've been thinking, why are you and Nance so close now? You both detested one another literally a few days ago. You replacing me, Garcia?"

"Never, Harrington," She sends him a genuine smile, causing the same expression to break across his own face, "Nancy and I are just— we decided to put aside our hatred for each other because of your relationship." She lies quickly.

"You're a horrible liar," He chuckles, "Look, Nancy didn't want to come watch a movie with you, so now you're coming instead. I think it's a musical romance, but we enjoy taking the piss out of the leads and horrible songs, so it'll be somewhat enjoyable if you don't moan the entire time."

She grits her teeth, "Second choice, wow, Steven. You really are a dick. Plus, I can't tonight. I'm busy."

He tilts his head, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. Just five minutes previous, he had heard the exact same excuse from Nancy, who claimed she needed to be there for her brother.

She notices his growing curiosity and let's out a long sigh, "I need to help Thomas with some school project shit that he's got for bio."

His eyes narrow, "I'm in his bio."

Malia mentally curses at herself, but doesn't let the annoyance show and instead laughs, "No offence, you're nowhere near as smart as him, Steve. I doubt the teachers even bother to assign work for you anymore. When was the last time you did any school work?"

His jaw clenches at the realisation she's right. If there was any homework, there would be a low chance of him even being notified by the teacher as seen as it was pointless. He couldn't remember the last time he'd wrote down actual school stuff, usually it was just letters to throw at the back of Malia's head.

"Exactly." She states, "So, I have to stay here. I'm sorry, Steve. I'm sure Carol and Tommy will go with you."

Steve throws his head back, pulling his palms down his face, "But I don't like them as much as you. With you I actually have fun, but with them, it's just forced and. . . unfun."

"Then stop being friends with them." She shrugs.

Sadly, they were his only friends and even the Steve Harrington found it difficult to approach people and befriend them. It was a bad trait of his, but only Malia was aware of it.

"Sorry, Steve." She approaches him, bringing a hand up to pat his shoulder sympathetically, "I'll see you tomorrow and we can have a movie night then, okay? I promise."

With soft eyes he meets her gaze for a split second before pushing away from the door frame and heading to her back garden gate that he'd previously sneaked through, unsure if Sasha Garcia was out of her anger episode yet.

"I love you, Harrington!" Malia shouts, waving him off.

He glances over his shoulder, a wide smile working it's way onto his lips as he returns the wave, "Love you more, Garcia. Have fun with your brother's shitty project!"

With stressed eyes, she watches carefully as he slinks through the gate and once he's out of view, she releases a large breath of air, thankful she'd managed to get away with such a horrific lie.

In a fluid motion, her hands are wrapped around the axe again, but this time she adjusts her weight so that she's able to hold it firmly without it falling by her side again. Instead, she wings it over her shoulder, letting it rest there while she wanders back into her garden.

❦

With squinted eyes and a small smirk, Malia watches as Jonathan and Nancy converse about his gun that he'd previously been using, attempting to hit three cans lined up a few meters down the field.

The way the boy stared into Wheeler's eyes was enough to make Malia want to puke.

"What about you, Malia?" His voice causes her ears to actually switch on and listen to the conversation, "You ever shot a gun before?"

She shrugs, taking a step closer and throwing her axe carelessly onto the grass beside Nancy's baseball bat, "A couple of times."

His eyes widen in surprise. He didn't really know what he was expecting, but it wasn't that. Sure, Malia Garcia gave off a rough and hard front, but for some reason, he believed she wasn't actually how she seemed. And as she takes the gun from his grasp, he realises he was wrong.

Nancy stares at Malia's blank expression as she brings up the gun in front of her face, her hands completely stable and not even shaking the tiniest bit like they usually did. Malia lines the sight up with her left eye and she closes her right before moving her pointer finger down to the trigger.

Truth be told, she remembers the first time she had to pulled a real gun up extremely vividly, and it wasn't to shoot a rabbit, or a coke can, it was to shut her own father up. Maybe it was the first sign of her madness, or showed how much she was willing in order to protect her brother.

Never did she think she'd be the one to threaten the man that had been making their lives living hell for the past eight years, but she did anyhow, and without a sign of remorse.

Therefore, it's no surprise that when she pulls the trigger of Jonathan Byer's revolver, the can she was aiming for goes flying off it's perch and rolling into the ground with a newly formed while straight through the centre of it.

She rolls her shoulders back before turning around again, noticing the two gawping jaws of the two people in front of her. She swallows thickly, before clenching her jaw, "Come on. Let's go before I die of embarrassment."