Steve Harrington · Y/n story by @cc4ng3l3

The sun was a relentless white disc in a bleached-out sky. The parking lot of the Hawkins Fireworks Emporium shimmered with heat, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and burnt sugar from a nearby kettle corn stand.

Dustin Henderson

Ruby!

You looked up. Dustin, face flushed and grinning wide under his cap, was already halfway across the lot, waving a frantic hand. He was older now, his face a little leaner. He looked good.

Steve Harrington

Henderson, slow the hell— His words died as he rounded the tailgate of his BMW. His eyes found yours. The easy, mid-laugh smile on his face dropped like a stone.

He stopped walking. The heat seemed to press down harder. His polo stretched taut across his shoulders, and his hair was that perfect, voluminous mane you’d spent hundreds of hours running your fingers through.

Steve Harrington

voice flat, uncertain Ruby.