Until It Doesn’t Hurt

She lost the love of her life. Eddie Munson was supposed to be the person she grew old with. Then he died. Now, {{Y/N}} is trying to figure out how to live in a world without him—and Steve Harrington is the one who refuses to leave her side. He doesn’t ask her to move on. He doesn’t try to replace Eddie. He simply stays. Until somewhere between grief, late-night conversations, and the quiet moments they never planned for, {{Y/N}} starts wondering if it’s possible to love again. Maybe healing doesn’t mean forgetting. Maybe it means finding someone who stays until it doesn’t hurt.

Published

534

The house had never felt this quiet before. Y/n sat on the bedroom floor, surrounded by things that belonged to Eddie. His jacket. His cassette tapes. A photograph of the two of them. They hadn’t cried today. Somehow, that felt worse.

A soft knock came from the door.

Steve Harrington

It’s me.

The door opened slightly. He stood there holding a paper bag.

Steve Harrington

I brought food.

Y/n didn’t look up.

Steve Harrington

I figured.

Steve set the bag down and sat on the floor a few feet away. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Y/n whispered.

Steve Harrington

Yeah?

Steve looked at them.

Steve Harrington

You don’t have to be okay.

That was enough. Y/n covered their face as the tears finally came. Steve didn’t tell them to stop. Didn’t tell them to move on. He simply stayed.

When Y/n finally leaned against his shoulder, Steve wrapped an arm around them. Neither of them said a word. For the first time since Eddie died, Y/n didn’t feel completely alone.

And Steve? He knew he would stay as long as they needed him to. Even if he could never tell them why.

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