[ perhaps that is what is most insane about this - not the fact that they live in some nowhere down in central usa that has a monster problem. not the fact that there is some crazy world that works in opposite of this one that a bunch of kids have them all calling the upside down, and not that steve finds himself still here, even after graduation. in this town. living at his parents house. the king of hawkins high, turned...what? deadbeat? who didn't go to college and who doesn't really have a plan for his life going forward? it feels wrong, in some weird way, though. because steve doesn't feel stuck.
because for years, years, it had been all about finding his footing in the tiny world of hawkins. he had a leg up in a lot of ways, ways he can acknowledge now. he came from money, which automatically attracts friends. he's not bad looking and he learned how to actually dress and take care of his hair, which shifted his popularity with the girls as they all got older, too. add in his natural athleticism and general ability to talk and make jokes and ease situations, and you have the makings of a full-on douchebag who thought the entire world was contained within the borders of hawkins, indiana. and part of steve wishes he could say that all it took was learning about monsters and dark scary creepy opposite worlds for him to open his eyes to the truth of it all, but he knows that when it comes down to it, it was nancy. nancy wheeler - always searching for the truth, relentless and powerful and magical all in one stunning body - who looked at him and knew he was phoning it in. he'd gone to jonathan's that night to apologize because nancy had been who had opened his eyes, but the demogorgan had helped that along, too.
because steve hadn't even known jonathan byers before then, really. and maybe that goes to show just how similar he and jonathan were, without even realizing it. because in the same way that jonathan looked at most of the people in hawkins as nonfactors, because they didn't matter, they weren't part of his world, steve had done a lot of the same. circles occupying similar spaces, but encompassing different worlds. jonathan hadn't even been in his scope beyond that weird kid in the grade below him until will had disappeared. and then the weird kid who had taken those photos. and now?
now steve can't help but be drawn in by it, by him. the amount that jonathan knows about the world, about music, about art. the things he can recite about books and movies and world news. the way that he could do all of this, have his sights set out to something so much bigger than any of them, and could be here, too, in the same way. it's taken some time, perhaps. taken steve's new position as dustin's ride, extended conversations upstairs at the wheeler's house, taken specific decisions where steve could have just gone home but instead decided that maybe it was worth heading across town just to ask jonathan what he knew about this or that. but through that time, steve's realized he's getting bits and pieces of a person that very few others knew.
like just how tight knit his family really is. like how well he and will get along. like the record collection he keeps in his room and how his dad is an asshole who isn't really in the picture. and steve, without realizing what was happening, found himself pulled in by this life, by this force, by the way he felt being around jonathan and nancy and robin. like he could be himself, whatever that new version of himself was supposed to be. and they all kind of flourish in that space of having each other, of watching the younger kids grow tighter and tighter, of watching hopper and joyce pretend they're being subtle when they're around each other. steve's not entirely sure how he's gone from the most popular kid in hawkins to hanging out with outcasts and nerds and feeling like, for the first time, he's comfortable with the shoes he's standing in, but it's the truth.
for all that jonathan feels like he can see steve, it's the same in opposite. steve feels seen, like there's not some image he's trying to fill, like maybe if this is it, he can be pretty okay with that.
even if he knows that this can't go on forever - nancy and jonathan are going to college together, soon, and then they'll take on the world. dustin and his friends are going to age through high school. robin will find the love of her life and move off to new york like she's always dreamed. and maybe, just maybe, joyce and hop will finally get married. steve, too, at some point, will have to get a real job and move out himself. will have to grow up, get a life, move on. this won't last forever, but maybe it can be just like this for a little longer.
( steve doesn't like to think about it - about losing nancy and jonathan, about robin leaving him too. in every version he runs through, it's always him being left behind. of course it only happens now that he knows what he'll lose. )
for now, steve will take advantage - of the rock and roll and synth through the mix tape. of the smile on jonathan's face. on the smell of watermelon and whatever it was jonathan made for breakfast in the small, hot room.
he pushes back because it feels like he should, like he could, and jonathan retaliates back. steve's never had siblings, never known what it is to rough house like that, but he played sports. he's had enough friends. he knows that by catching steve's knee in his hand, jonathan is sending a silent message. a retaliation. a challenge. he recognizes that this could escalate, that roughhousing could come into play, or maybe something entirely different, but in the face of it steve simply laughs - it's light, it's bubbly, it's easy. ]
Yeah? And do you speak french, Byers?
[ it's childish in return, but steve doesn't try to be any more mature about it either. jonathan tosses the piece of fruit at him and it thumps against his chest and steve moves to sit up, grabbing the piece, but he's still laughing. ] Cheap shot! What the hell! [ this is happening now. steve immediately throws the piece right back to jonathan with a bit more force. ]
( these are the conversations that each of them shies away from, except for nancy ( seemingly unafraid of anything ), nancy who has had most of her life mapped out since she was a small girl. nevermind the disruption of monsters basically crawling off of a playing board from a campaign that mike wheeler thought up after a nightmare. that wasn’t a part of anyone’s plan. a hiccup from the devil’s wagon, if you’re the zealous type. the only prayers jonathan has succumbed to have been while down on his knees; praying for will to wake up and giving reverence to nancy in an entirely different context. so let’s say it like it is: jonathan doesn’t want to disrupt the peace they’ve found here. the kids, alive and okay, and then steve, nancy, robin and himself, attached like out-of-body appendages. it’s nice, you know? it’s so nice, watching the girls wax poetic about these futures they’ve constructed for themselves like empires. a big fan of not lying, not pretending ( friends don’t lie ), he tells white ones by agreeing with nancy over burgers and shared fries.
how he’s going to afford tuition like that? and if he could, say he does, on grades and on merit, how’s he supposed to make the kind of income required to keep himself afloat in a university town? what if something happens? what if will needs him? what if this is never really over? because if he’s speaking his truth, then he has to eventually voice that he wants to stay closer to home. she would never go for his option, which is city college. a perfectly reasonable solution to the economic cost of education, at least for a few years. he doesn’t intend to fall back on old habits, to hide in himself and keep his fears close to his chest, but he does.
a large part of it due to how wild it feels to be talking about college when the world’s already almost ended three times. they’re just. they’re supposed to move on, somehow? knowing that? like the upside down isn’t an entity that keeps reaching for eleven and by extension, the rest of them. living day-to-day hasn’t failed him yet. he knows that’s the avoidance of talking, the anxiety and the paranoia, but days turn to weeks turn to months, and they’re alive. nothing crazy has interrupted their lives. he wishes he could get out of it, except he’s been in survival mode much longer than the rest of them.
he embraces summer like it’s the last one, spending less time behind the lens and more time instigating in the lives of the friends around him. yeah, friends, not people. he thinks maybe they’ve earned that. )
I don’t need to. It’s called subtitles. You can read, right?
( after a retort like that, he’s deserving of having the watermelon volleyed back at him. steve’s aim smacks him in the jaw in a smushy wet slap that plummets to his lap. unbelievable, this assault he asked for. )
Augh! ( he cries out, not necessarily in pain so much as it’s already tacky, humid, and a little miserable in here without sticky fruit juice on his face. a sole watermelon seed sticks to his cheek. common sense doesn’t tell him to stop when it should. he picks up the fallen fruit in his lap, more green rind than hot pink fruit and hurls it in steve’s general direction. his aim is horrific and it splatters against the cushions. there’s only certain vengeance on his face where guilt ought to be. he scrambles up, to kneeling, scrabbling for fruit in each hand and then dashing for the kitchen. he stops though, lingers at the side of the couch long enough to try and pelt steve in the shoulder. )
Loser's stuck with clean-up duty, ( which is all he has to say before banking for cover behind the island. )
[ that could be the reason that more often than not it's been steve and jonathan. steve and jonathan, with the promise of nancy once she finishes this next spread. steve and jonathan, where nancy would meet up with them after she finishes talking to this one person. steve and jonathan, even now, who are talking about music and movies and anything and everything that doesn't have to do with future plans. granted, steve assumes that's because jonathan's got it worked out, because he's talked it out and made plans and knows what's already going to happen, because that's how they do. futures that steve knows he doesn't have a place in, not really, because the world he's constructed and the world he's so comfortable in is here, in hawkins, in a town that somehow ends up the center of their nightmares over and over again.
whether or not he's spoken it aloud, whether or not he's said the words to anyone else, he knows that is what will happen. that they will go and live their lives, and steve harrington will find an apartment, maybe a house. will be stuck here, in hawkins, forever. and maybe part of him believes it's because this is the best he can offer - to come in, bat swinging, whenever anything starts to go wrong. if he can't do anything else, he supposes he can always do this - be this, be here, dependable ole steve, who will hold down the fort and a job and be nothing more than an impression he left in high school that isn't even entirely true.
but jonathan's right - this summer, this could be their last. their last of this, of them, of this unit that steve wishes he had years to learn to depend on and be with. and, if this is going to be their last, it might as well be worth it. ]
I can read, asshole. I just don't know why you'd want to go to the movies to read. [ yes, steve agrees that jonathan deserves to have the watermelon thrown back at him for that. and then it is on - jonathan is throwing the piece back but steve dodges it easily, laughing at how terrible his aim had to be to miss when they are sitting right next to each other. steve laughs at it, a haha as he stumbles to his feet too, grabbing for the bowl though he's a half-second slower and jonathan's already got his pieces and making a dash to the kitchen. he's laughing, suddenly feeling inexplicably young, as he tries to dodge the second piece of watermelon and feels it bounce off his shirt all the same. ]
You mean loser's gonna have to explain this to Nance. [ steve crawls around the couch for better cover himself, taking the bowl with him. it's called strategy, at this point. there's a brief moment where steve just sits there, trying to hear where jonathan's headed, before he pops back out from behind the couch and fastballs a piece of watermelon right over the island. ]
Do I have to remind you that you live here? I could leave whenever I want! [ and then he throws two more pieces where he can just make out jonathan's shoulder. ]
It’s about the cinematic experience of another culture. The (THWACK! there goes watermelon streaking down the cabinet door. ) storytelling capabilities from the other side of the—
( yup, nope, okay. that one smacks him in the side of the neck and he has to crouch-crawl to the other side of the island, hurling his last piece and whatever chunks he’s scooped up from the floor back at the couch and where he hopes steve is hiding, popping his head out like a little whack-a-mole at the arcade. at this point, both of their shirts are going to be covered in off-pink splotches. )
Planet! ( he finishes stubbornly, resolute in finishing what he begins. it does mean that steve can track him easier via sound but someone has to defend independent films in a foreign language; the writing is solid, but absorbing it isn’t as mindless as an american-made movie. there’s no drilling appreciation into steve’s thick skull; jonathan suspects he barely likes movies more than with a casual interest in passing the time.
there’s an unfortunate dilemma he’s facing now, one that forces him to get creative in arming himself. he’s out of fruit. steve has the bowl in his arms. does that mean he’s snatching up errant kitchen supplies from a ceramic cup and flinging wooden spoons across the chasm between the kitchen and the living room? absolutely. no regrets in war. nancy will just have to understand the wreckage of their apartment is for a very worthwhile cause: annihilating the resistance. he gets hit by some stray watermelon pieces in the mean time, creeping around one side of the island to do a mad dash back to the opposing side of the couch, which he ducks behind as best he can. he’s not as invisible as he hopes. )
Oh, what, like you’re going to abandon me?
( steve hasn’t been the bailing type for months now. sorry, try again. he doesn’t believe it. jonathan reaches into the cup and flings a plastic spatula in steve’s general vicinity, then drops flat to the floor. time to crawl around the back of the furniture like an actual child. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
because for years, years, it had been all about finding his footing in the tiny world of hawkins. he had a leg up in a lot of ways, ways he can acknowledge now. he came from money, which automatically attracts friends. he's not bad looking and he learned how to actually dress and take care of his hair, which shifted his popularity with the girls as they all got older, too. add in his natural athleticism and general ability to talk and make jokes and ease situations, and you have the makings of a full-on douchebag who thought the entire world was contained within the borders of hawkins, indiana. and part of steve wishes he could say that all it took was learning about monsters and dark scary creepy opposite worlds for him to open his eyes to the truth of it all, but he knows that when it comes down to it, it was nancy. nancy wheeler - always searching for the truth, relentless and powerful and magical all in one stunning body - who looked at him and knew he was phoning it in. he'd gone to jonathan's that night to apologize because nancy had been who had opened his eyes, but the demogorgan had helped that along, too.
because steve hadn't even known jonathan byers before then, really. and maybe that goes to show just how similar he and jonathan were, without even realizing it. because in the same way that jonathan looked at most of the people in hawkins as nonfactors, because they didn't matter, they weren't part of his world, steve had done a lot of the same. circles occupying similar spaces, but encompassing different worlds. jonathan hadn't even been in his scope beyond that weird kid in the grade below him until will had disappeared. and then the weird kid who had taken those photos. and now?
now steve can't help but be drawn in by it, by him. the amount that jonathan knows about the world, about music, about art. the things he can recite about books and movies and world news. the way that he could do all of this, have his sights set out to something so much bigger than any of them, and could be here, too, in the same way. it's taken some time, perhaps. taken steve's new position as dustin's ride, extended conversations upstairs at the wheeler's house, taken specific decisions where steve could have just gone home but instead decided that maybe it was worth heading across town just to ask jonathan what he knew about this or that. but through that time, steve's realized he's getting bits and pieces of a person that very few others knew.
like just how tight knit his family really is. like how well he and will get along. like the record collection he keeps in his room and how his dad is an asshole who isn't really in the picture. and steve, without realizing what was happening, found himself pulled in by this life, by this force, by the way he felt being around jonathan and nancy and robin. like he could be himself, whatever that new version of himself was supposed to be. and they all kind of flourish in that space of having each other, of watching the younger kids grow tighter and tighter, of watching hopper and joyce pretend they're being subtle when they're around each other. steve's not entirely sure how he's gone from the most popular kid in hawkins to hanging out with outcasts and nerds and feeling like, for the first time, he's comfortable with the shoes he's standing in, but it's the truth.
for all that jonathan feels like he can see steve, it's the same in opposite. steve feels seen, like there's not some image he's trying to fill, like maybe if this is it, he can be pretty okay with that.
even if he knows that this can't go on forever - nancy and jonathan are going to college together, soon, and then they'll take on the world. dustin and his friends are going to age through high school. robin will find the love of her life and move off to new york like she's always dreamed. and maybe, just maybe, joyce and hop will finally get married. steve, too, at some point, will have to get a real job and move out himself. will have to grow up, get a life, move on. this won't last forever, but maybe it can be just like this for a little longer.
( steve doesn't like to think about it - about losing nancy and jonathan, about robin leaving him too. in every version he runs through, it's always him being left behind. of course it only happens now that he knows what he'll lose. )
for now, steve will take advantage - of the rock and roll and synth through the mix tape. of the smile on jonathan's face. on the smell of watermelon and whatever it was jonathan made for breakfast in the small, hot room.
he pushes back because it feels like he should, like he could, and jonathan retaliates back. steve's never had siblings, never known what it is to rough house like that, but he played sports. he's had enough friends. he knows that by catching steve's knee in his hand, jonathan is sending a silent message. a retaliation. a challenge. he recognizes that this could escalate, that roughhousing could come into play, or maybe something entirely different, but in the face of it steve simply laughs - it's light, it's bubbly, it's easy. ]
Yeah? And do you speak french, Byers?
[ it's childish in return, but steve doesn't try to be any more mature about it either. jonathan tosses the piece of fruit at him and it thumps against his chest and steve moves to sit up, grabbing the piece, but he's still laughing. ] Cheap shot! What the hell! [ this is happening now. steve immediately throws the piece right back to jonathan with a bit more force. ]
no subject
how he’s going to afford tuition like that? and if he could, say he does, on grades and on merit, how’s he supposed to make the kind of income required to keep himself afloat in a university town? what if something happens? what if will needs him? what if this is never really over? because if he’s speaking his truth, then he has to eventually voice that he wants to stay closer to home. she would never go for his option, which is city college. a perfectly reasonable solution to the economic cost of education, at least for a few years. he doesn’t intend to fall back on old habits, to hide in himself and keep his fears close to his chest, but he does.
a large part of it due to how wild it feels to be talking about college when the world’s already almost ended three times. they’re just. they’re supposed to move on, somehow? knowing that? like the upside down isn’t an entity that keeps reaching for eleven and by extension, the rest of them. living day-to-day hasn’t failed him yet. he knows that’s the avoidance of talking, the anxiety and the paranoia, but days turn to weeks turn to months, and they’re alive. nothing crazy has interrupted their lives. he wishes he could get out of it, except he’s been in survival mode much longer than the rest of them.
he embraces summer like it’s the last one, spending less time behind the lens and more time instigating in the lives of the friends around him. yeah, friends, not people. he thinks maybe they’ve earned that. )
I don’t need to. It’s called subtitles. You can read, right?
( after a retort like that, he’s deserving of having the watermelon volleyed back at him. steve’s aim smacks him in the jaw in a smushy wet slap that plummets to his lap. unbelievable, this assault he asked for. )
Augh! ( he cries out, not necessarily in pain so much as it’s already tacky, humid, and a little miserable in here without sticky fruit juice on his face. a sole watermelon seed sticks to his cheek. common sense doesn’t tell him to stop when it should. he picks up the fallen fruit in his lap, more green rind than hot pink fruit and hurls it in steve’s general direction. his aim is horrific and it splatters against the cushions. there’s only certain vengeance on his face where guilt ought to be. he scrambles up, to kneeling, scrabbling for fruit in each hand and then dashing for the kitchen. he stops though, lingers at the side of the couch long enough to try and pelt steve in the shoulder. )
Loser's stuck with clean-up duty, ( which is all he has to say before banking for cover behind the island. )
no subject
whether or not he's spoken it aloud, whether or not he's said the words to anyone else, he knows that is what will happen. that they will go and live their lives, and steve harrington will find an apartment, maybe a house. will be stuck here, in hawkins, forever. and maybe part of him believes it's because this is the best he can offer - to come in, bat swinging, whenever anything starts to go wrong. if he can't do anything else, he supposes he can always do this - be this, be here, dependable ole steve, who will hold down the fort and a job and be nothing more than an impression he left in high school that isn't even entirely true.
but jonathan's right - this summer, this could be their last. their last of this, of them, of this unit that steve wishes he had years to learn to depend on and be with. and, if this is going to be their last, it might as well be worth it. ]
I can read, asshole. I just don't know why you'd want to go to the movies to read. [ yes, steve agrees that jonathan deserves to have the watermelon thrown back at him for that. and then it is on - jonathan is throwing the piece back but steve dodges it easily, laughing at how terrible his aim had to be to miss when they are sitting right next to each other. steve laughs at it, a haha as he stumbles to his feet too, grabbing for the bowl though he's a half-second slower and jonathan's already got his pieces and making a dash to the kitchen. he's laughing, suddenly feeling inexplicably young, as he tries to dodge the second piece of watermelon and feels it bounce off his shirt all the same. ]
You mean loser's gonna have to explain this to Nance. [ steve crawls around the couch for better cover himself, taking the bowl with him. it's called strategy, at this point. there's a brief moment where steve just sits there, trying to hear where jonathan's headed, before he pops back out from behind the couch and fastballs a piece of watermelon right over the island. ]
Do I have to remind you that you live here? I could leave whenever I want! [ and then he throws two more pieces where he can just make out jonathan's shoulder. ]
no subject
( yup, nope, okay. that one smacks him in the side of the neck and he has to crouch-crawl to the other side of the island, hurling his last piece and whatever chunks he’s scooped up from the floor back at the couch and where he hopes steve is hiding, popping his head out like a little whack-a-mole at the arcade. at this point, both of their shirts are going to be covered in off-pink splotches. )
Planet! ( he finishes stubbornly, resolute in finishing what he begins. it does mean that steve can track him easier via sound but someone has to defend independent films in a foreign language; the writing is solid, but absorbing it isn’t as mindless as an american-made movie. there’s no drilling appreciation into steve’s thick skull; jonathan suspects he barely likes movies more than with a casual interest in passing the time.
there’s an unfortunate dilemma he’s facing now, one that forces him to get creative in arming himself. he’s out of fruit. steve has the bowl in his arms. does that mean he’s snatching up errant kitchen supplies from a ceramic cup and flinging wooden spoons across the chasm between the kitchen and the living room? absolutely. no regrets in war. nancy will just have to understand the wreckage of their apartment is for a very worthwhile cause: annihilating the resistance. he gets hit by some stray watermelon pieces in the mean time, creeping around one side of the island to do a mad dash back to the opposing side of the couch, which he ducks behind as best he can. he’s not as invisible as he hopes. )
Oh, what, like you’re going to abandon me?
( steve hasn’t been the bailing type for months now. sorry, try again. he doesn’t believe it. jonathan reaches into the cup and flings a plastic spatula in steve’s general vicinity, then drops flat to the floor. time to crawl around the back of the furniture like an actual child. )