- The Second Choice - · Y/n story by @goutgirl

The Harrington house sat dark and quiet at the end of the cul-de-sac, a single porch light flickering against the late summer night.

Steve Harrington

rubs his face with both hands, lets out a breath Alright. Just gonna say hi. Quick check in. No big deal.

He grabbed his keys from the ignition and stepped out, the cicadas buzzing loud enough to swallow the sound of his footsteps up the driveway.

Steve Harrington

knocks, waits, knocks again, harder (User)? Hey, it’s me.

Footsteps from inside. The lock clicked. Your mother appeared in the gap, hair messy, bathrobe pulled tight.

Your Mom

Steve. It’s late.

Steve Harrington

forces a smile Hey—uh, is she home? I was hoping I could talk to her.

Your Mom

sighs, steps aside She’s in her room. She’s been in a mood lately, so don’t be surprised if she doesn’t feel like talking.

She said it like she was talking about a thunderstorm. An inconvenience. Something to weather.

Steve Harrington

Thanks.

He took the stairs two at a time, heart thumping in a way he told himself was just the exertion.

Steve Harrington

knocks on your door, soft at first (User)?

Nothing.

Steve Harrington

knocks again, harder (User)? It’s Steve. You gonna open the door or what?

Silence stretched too long. He tried the handle. It turned.

Steve Harrington

steps inside, voice cracking (User)?

His eyes found the papers on the desk. Three envelopes. Names written in your handwriting.

Steve Harrington

reads the name aloud, barely a whisper Mom.

The second one. Dad.

???

fingers trembling over the ink Steve.