One sided obsession. (Steve H) · Y/n story by @ssomethingg

The fluorescent lights of Starcourt Mall hummed overhead, casting a sterile white glow over the polished tile and the summer crowd. The air was a mix of pretzel salt, chlorine from the fountain, and the synthetic newness of a hundred different stores.

Steve Harrington

leaning against the counter of Scoops Ahoy, chin propped in his hand, staring blankly across the wide walkway She’s just… folding jeans.

Robin Buckley

not looking up from polishing a sundae glass And you’re just… breathing. Allegedly. You wanna maybe do that over here? We have customers.

Dustin Henderson

sliding into the stool next to Steve, following his gaze Oh, I see. Phase one: silent admiration. Classic Harrington.

Lucas Sinclair

leaning on Dustin’s other side He’s been in phase one for like, three weeks. At this rate, phase two—actual human speech—won’t happen until we’re all in college.

Mike Wheeler

It’s pathetic.

Steve Harrington

snaps his head towards them, face flushing Shut up. All of you. I’m working.

Robin Buckley

snorts Your version of ‘working’ is giving our store a reputation as a staring gallery. The only thing you’re scooping is air, dingus.

Across the way, the subject of their attention finished smoothing the last pair of 501s into a neat stack. She turned to adjust a display of brightly colored polo shirts, a small, easy smile touching her lips as she helped a customer.

Steve Harrington

lets out a quiet, involuntary sigh See? That. The… the smiling thing.

Dustin Henderson

Oh my god. He’s malfunctioning. Somebody reboot him.

Eleven Hopper

standing slightly apart from the boys, arms crossed, watching Steve with a flat, unreadable expression No.

At The Gap, the customer walked away with a bag. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the food court before landing on the familiar blue-and-white sailor uniform across the way. Her smile widened, just a fraction, and she gave a slight, almost imperceptible wave.

Steve Harrington

His hand slips off his chin, elbow knocking a stack of sample menus onto the floor with a clatter. He stares, frozen, heart hammering against his ribs. Uh.

Robin Buckley

pinches the bridge of her nose And there goes the merchandise. Smooth. Real smooth.

Lucas Sinclair

This is your chance, man! She’s looking right at you! Go say hi!

Mike Wheeler

Or don’t. It’s probably safer for everyone if you don’t.

Dustin Henderson

Do it! Just walk over there! Ask her about jeans! Ask her about the… the economic policies of the Reagan administration! Anything!

Steve Harrington

scrambling to pick up the menus, face now fully crimson No! No way. I’ll—I’ll mess it up. I’ll say something stupid and she’ll… she’ll stop smiling. Nope. Not happening.

Will Byers

quietly, from near the trash can It might be nice if someone talked to her. She looks… friendly.

Eleven Hopper

shoots Will a sharp look, then turns her protective gaze back to Steve He will not.

The moment passed. At The Gap, she had already turned back to her table, fingertips tracing the edge of a denim jacket, her profile serene amidst the summer chaos. The walkway between the two stores seemed to stretch, vast and uncrossable.