Steve Harrington · Y/n story by @Turner

The fluorescent lights of Family Video hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the rows of VHS tapes. It was a slow Tuesday afternoon, the kind that stretched out like taffy. The only sounds were the soft whir of the rewinder and the distant, tinny soundtrack of a preview playing on the store monitors.

Steve Harrington

clears throat, still looking down She’s coming back.

The words were quiet, almost lost in the hum. But they landed. Robin’s hands stilled over a stack of horror films. Dustin’s head snapped up.

Dustin Henderson

turning slowly, a wide, knowing grin spreading across his face Your… girlfriend?

Steve Harrington

finally looks up, rolling his eyes with practiced exasperation Yes, Dustin. My real girlfriend. The one I’ve been dating for years. You know, the one you keep insisting is a Canadian spy I invented to sound cool.

Robin Buckley

watches him, her head tilted For how long this time?

Steve pushed off the counter, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He looked at Robin, then at the door, as if checking for eavesdroppers.

Steve Harrington

A while.

He paused, his jaw working. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, softer. The casual mask had a hairline fracture.

Steve Harrington

Long enough.

Dustin Henderson

clapping his hands together once Excellent. You are gonna tell the guys in this afternoon’s meeting, right? I can’t wait to see Mike’s face when you finally produce photographic evidence.

Steve shot him a look, but there was no real heat in it. He rubbed the back of his neck, a telltale sign of nerves.

Steve Harrington

Yeah, well. Maybe. If you guys can behave for five minutes.

Robin Buckley

stands up, leaning her elbows on the counter Long enough for what, Steve?

He met her gaze. Robin saw it all—the hope, the fear, the sheer, terrifying weight of a decision already made. He didn’t answer. He just gave her a small, almost imperceptible shrug that said everything.