Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Prologue:The Frame That Holds Me

...
The Harrington family. You’ve likely heard of the name. Born and Raised in the humble town of Hawkins, Indiana, Robert Harrington had a passion for basketball and dedicated his life to the sport. Robert rose to fame when he was scouted by the NBA during a Division I NCAA game, landing him a spot on the Indianapolis Pacers.

It was at an exhibition match while playing in France where he met European all-star Jean Collins. Jean saw a lot of promise in Robert and they became fast friends, letting Robert in on the international side of professional sports. Jean continued to advise Robert as he led the Indianapolis Pacers to the play-offs.

It was during the NBA finals that Jean introduced Robert to his sister, Emilie Collins. She was well known for winning gold as a gymnast for France in the Olympics. She went on to become the face of Sports Illustrated, modeling for sports brands internationally.

After winning the NBA finals Robert leveraged his fame to make a name for himself. He got a degree in business during the off-seasons as he and Jean had discussed plans on starting a business, using their names to back its success.

As Emilie took the Harrington name they became a household power couple in the sports world.

Enter Steve Harrington at stage right.

You see Robert had an idyllic image of what the perfect family looked like. He planned to raise a son to follow in his footsteps and become the next NBA star, and show the world that Robert would always be a figurehead for the sports world and the next generation. But Emilie.. She was more hesitant. She married Robert quite young and fell pregnant soon after, halting her career. The joy of their loving marriage had already started to fade after the first time Robert raised his hand against her. Her brother Jean felt like a stranger, and the only one she could lean on for support became her mother, who had been sick for most of her life.

When the couple moved back to Hawkins to “return to their roots” Emilie was uprooted from her home and culture of France. Her mother moved to a home in Indianapolis so she could be there to help raise the baby, especially since it seemed like Robert had no plans to stop any business ventures on his own. When Emilie held Steve for the first time she told herself she would try to be a good parent to Steve.

Evidently Steve was not exactly what Robert had hoped for.

At the beginning of Steve's early life it seemed as if Steve would grow to have all the makings of a prodigy, being early on many developmental milestones such as speaking and running. Picking up the French spoken by his mother and grandmother alongside English. However Steve struggled with reading and writing. No matter how hard or slow he tried, letters and words would move around and make understanding anything impossible. As Steve continued to struggle with learning as he started public school, Robert’s patients began to run thin.

…
Steve had few memories of the first couple years of his life, shadowed in flashes of hiding from his parents screaming arguments and sitting on his mother’s hip while cameras flash and reporters ask questions he wasn’t supposed to answer. But Steve remembered a lot of moments with his grandmother. He was often left with her on the weekends so his parents could work. She was introduced as Grandma Margarette but Steve always called her Nana. Nana almost only spoke French and Steve grew up learning it while in her company.

He loved going to Nana’s on Sundays. Nana would take Steve to church and have a big lunch afterwards. At first he was nervous, the only God he’d ever heard of at home didn’t like him very much if you believe what his father said. But when he went with Nana he can only remember singing along with the fellowship as a man spoke loudly and waved his arms in the air, preaching about love and heaven before everyone drank grape juice and ate a cracker. Then a bunch of old ladies came out and told him how cute he was, which was really embarrassing. Steve’s favorite part was afterwards, Steve’s Nana would take him to the house of one of the other ladies and they would all eat a big lunch together with all sorts of different foods that you could pick and choose from. Each time he went with his Nana the place and food was different and one time his grandma even hosted. He remembers clearly, helping his Nana set the table and prepare the food for the guests.

Steve remembers that day, the food was almost done, and Nana had given Steve the job of bringing the plates to the table. Steve took them one by one, since they were so big. He remembers how he stumbled, and broke the plate onto the hard linoleum. Steve had closed his eyes and covered his head with his hands while whispering apologies. Nana had just wrapped him in her arms and told him he had to be more careful and that from now on she’d carry the heavy plates. She then gave him a bundle of silverware and told him to set the table while she cleaned up the mess.

Looking back Steve thought that his Nana was the first person who loved him unconditionally. Both of his parents had expectations of him he had to fulfill and shortcomings they didn’t like. Nana would follow along agreeably when Steve would get lost on tangents and read to Steve when she tucked him into bed at night. Nana would sit with Steve when he would be dropped off at her house quiet and withdrawn and tell him stories about her time in France as a pâtissière, of all the things she made for people and all the places she traveled around Europe. And when Steve would come back to himself she would scoop him up and let him sit on the kitchen counter and watch her bake, while the radio played music from the window sill.

Sadly, when Steve was 5 years old an accident happened, leading Steve to no longer go to his Nana's home. Steve had no memory of this, but was told in no uncertain terms that he can’t see her anymore. It was explained to him that while he was with his Nana she had one of her episodes, and caused a chain reaction for Steve to have one as well, and now that he had started showing symptoms being together would be a danger to both of them. Steve knew in the abstract that his Nana was sick. He saw the medication she took to keep her well, and he knew vaguely that if someone's family was sick other members could be too, but had assumed since no one else talked about it that there was no danger. It was explained that when his mother didn’t show any signs they thought the illness had not passed on.

Steve remembers the tantrum he threw when he found out he wouldn’t see his Nana again. He cried and screamed and begged even when his father started knocking him around to get him to shut up. Eventually Robert gave up and dragged Steve to his room where he locked the door and told him he would only let him out once he could behave himself.

For three days Steve cried in his bed and refused to eat anything. Eventually hunger won out and he accepted the fact he wouldn’t see her again. He mourned the relationship lost even though he didn’t understand what he was experiencing. His mother tried to comfort him, letting him hug her and bury his head in her lap.

After that day a new bottle of pills was added to Steve’s daily routine.

It was almost a year later when Steve received a box. It was filled with recipes written in French and English of everything from breakfast to dinner and dessert. When he questioned why he was receiving this he was told that it was in his Nana's will to give it to him. Only then was he informed of his Nana's passing.

Steve was six years old when his father beat him for the first time. He didn’t really understand what he did wrong. Well, he did know what he did. Miss Molly gave back their classwork that day and left a note for his father saying he “was struggling to keep up with the other kids”. Which Steve didn’t think was right, because he ran much faster than most of them during gym class. Miss Molly told Steve that he shouldn’t make excuses if he wasn’t paying attention when he was! He promises, the letters just look so squiggly on the board that sometimes they don’t stay still enough to write down.

His father asked him to explain. This part has happened before, it’s not the first time Steve has had the disappointed judgemental stare of his father leveled at him. Sometimes he felt like that was the only way his father looked at him.

Usually when Steve explained his mistake his father would smack him on the side of the head and berate him for being stupid and lazy then send him to bed without dinner, which Steve also thought made no sense because his father always said to be a strong athlete he needed to eat twice as much as the other kids.

But instead of the cold words Steve had prepared for his father stood up causing Steve to stumble back. He grabbed Steve’s arm tightly and pulled him down the hall, muttering how Steve needed some real discipline, like his father gave to him as a child. Steve starts to shake because he knew what was happening. He’d seen this only once between his mother and father during one of their screaming matches. Robert pulled out a belt and lashed the back of his thighs 5 times. Steve held back his tears as the sores swelled and burned. He knew if he cried he'd only get another. Robert told him to clean up his act in school or he’d get another round.

Steve’s father gave him a quick once over, then dismissively turned away, telling him if he needed to cry, he could do it outside where he couldn’t see it. Steve ran into the woods, a small trickle of blood dripping down his leg as he began to sob openly.

Walking into a small clearing, Steve hiccupped when he saw a kid already there around his age, sitting on a fallen log. When they made eye contact Steve could see they were red rimmed just like his own, a bruise in the shape of a hand on the boy's arm, wrapped around his knees which were pressed against his chest. As if in mutual agreement, they sat next to each other, Steve hissing in pain when he tried to sit, scooting to the edge of the log so his injured thighs hung off the edge.

While Steve was looking at his bleeding thighs, a tissue was shoved into his view. The little boy sitting beside him was holding it out, looking at the ground, fiddling with a fray on his jeans. Steve gingerly took the tissue and dabbed the blood that had been welling up and dripping down his leg. Once cleaned to the best of his ability he used the other side to wipe the remnants of the tears from his cheeks.

“thanks.” Steve said in an almost inaudible voice. The boy nodded his head in response. They both sat there in comfortable silence for a while, letting out occasional sniffles, but soon enough Steve began to get fidgety. He turned to the boy beside him again.

“umm.. I’m Steve by the way, what’s your name?” The little boy looked uncomfortable, looking back at Steve with a nervous expression. For a moment Steve thought it was a lost cause but slowly the boy reached to his throat and tapped it a few times.

“You can’t talk?” The boy nodded his head, giving an apologetic grimace.

“Like, at all?” Steve wondered aloud, not really looking for an answer, but the boy shook his head and tapped on his wounded arm.

“oh…” Steve understood as the pieces clicked together. Steve scratched his head for a moment, thinking up an idea.

“I got it, one second.” Steve jumped up and scampered into the bushes a few feet in front of them, rummaging in the leaves, the sound of crunching loud in the silent air.

“Taa-daa!” Steve flourished his prize, fishing out a long stick that nearly toppled him over the moment he lifted it up.

“woOow! Maybe I should pick a smaller one after all.” The little boy let out a breathy laugh at Steve’s antics. Steve beamed at him, redoubling his efforts in the foliage. Steve ran back over with a more reasonable sized stick and pushed the leaves in front of the log out of the way with the side of his shoe. Steve thrust the stick in front of the boy making him startle back. Steve waited for him to un-tense before shaking the stick in his face.

“Come on, take it! I found the perfect stick for you!” The boy took the stick but looked at Steve with a confused expression, eyebrows pinching. Steve backed up and spread his arms out in front of him.

“Until your voice comes back you can write on the ground anything you want to say. Is that ok?” The boy looked from Steve to the stick to the ground and nodded tentatively with a small smile. Steve pumped his fist in the air.

“Sweet! Now can you tell me your name please?” He added the please at the end, remembering how you were supposed to be polite when introducing yourself. The little boy slowly wrote out his name letter by letter, Steve reading as he went;

“J-O-N-A-T-H-A-N .. Jontana?” Steve tried to say the name out loud, Jonathan gave him a judgmental look. Steve winced and tried again.

“Sorry, let me try again, Jothan, Jonthanin, Jontahnin…” Steve kept saying it over and over, getting frustrated with himself. He looked over at the boy again, his face now downcast.

“I’m really sorry, I’m not doing it on purpose. The letters don’t always make sense with bigger words.” Steve pleaded. He had come up with the idea of writing the name down and now he couldn’t even read it. “Now his new friend would think he was stupid just like his dad-” Steve broke out of his mental spiral when Jonathan poked him in the side. Steve looked up to see the letters before were erased and instead there was just the three letters J-O-N.

“Jon?” Jon nodded his head with a smile.

“Is it ok if I call you Jon? I’m sorry I couldn’t say your full name” Jon nodded his head again and wrote on the ground again.

“I-T-S O-K“ he wrote in big letters. Steve smiled a big toothy smile at Jon, shaking his hands in excitement.

“That’s great, thank you! It’s nice to meet you Jon!” And so the friendship was formed. An unlikely pair of kids, bonded by two similar unfortunate circumstances. The two met a few more times in the woods like that day. Steve and Jon dressing their wounds and cheering each other up, Steve more often than not doing silly things to try and make Jon laugh.

Elementary School brought a lot of changes for Steve. Finally there was something he excelled in that his parents could praise him for.

Sports.

Gym class, after school activities and little league filled up all his free time. Steve often outran the other kids, overpowering them physically during soccer or basketball or dodgeball. Steve still struggled with his grades, especially English and math, continuing to be the main reason for his fathers physical eyer. However there was now a weight on the other side of the scale of his fathers mood.

He’d always known his father wanted him to be an athlete like him and his mom used to be. Steve liked sports, he might even say he loved it, and that passion showed itself in his performance, being praised by teachers and coaches alike for his potential. A new phrase started to become a constant during his fathers lectures, “At least you got one redeeming quality from me” which hurt to hear, even if he was starting to believe it was true.

There was one bright spot that wasn’t touched by any of his family's expectations. Jon. Steve remembered clearly during the start of second grade, an assembly was held as an introductory to the new school year. During the assembly the first graders were introduced to the upperclassmen, and Jon walked in with them. When Jon saw Steve, Steve waved excitedly at him with a big smile. Jon gave a tiny wave back, smiling as well.

Steve and Jon had only seen each other in the woods until that point, and the chance of them being there on the same day was rare. So now that they went to school together they spend every moment glued to each other's side. Working together in class and eating together at lunch and playing together at recess. Jon was still quiet and withdrawn but Steve finally got to hear his voice for more than a word or two.

Jon was a painfully shy kid and struggled in social situations so Steve often helped him when he was struggling to turn his thoughts into words. In return, Jon would read the assignments to him so he wouldn’t struggle as much in class and would correct the letters when Steve mixed them up on his homework.

Steve was friends with many of his classmates due to his extraverted nature, but Jon was Steve’s first and best friend. Jon was special to Steve in a way no one else was and Steve liked being around him more than anyone else. When Steve told Jon this, he got so flustered he ran away. Steve thought he made Jon mad but the next day he came back with the prettiest rock Steve had ever seen. It was colorful and shiny and would change color depending on how you held it. Jon told Steve that he was special to him too, and told him about how he and his mom found the rock while walking down the beach and that it was the best one they found that day. Steve held the rock gently and promised to treasure it.

When Steve was eight years old he tried to fight back against his fathers punishment. Steve couldn’t remember exactly what it was he had done, but it was probably related to school. Steve had gotten a lot of bad scores on the same subject multiple times around that time and was struggling to improve even with Jon’s help. Steve had already gotten a slap or two to the face because of this before Robert had taken the belt out and told Steve he would get a lash for every mistake he made on the test in front of him. Steve’s face turned white, he didn’t know how many that would be but knew it would be bad. Steve began to struggle desperately in his fathers grasp, dragging his feet against the lacquered wood floors, trying to pry his fathers fingers out of the tight grip on his arm one by one. In a last ditch attempt, Steve stomped on his father’s foot with all his weight. Robert grunted in pain, letting go of Steve and kicking him off the now injured foot. Steve could only celebrate for a moment before the force caused him to fall backwards. It just so happened that at that moment Steve had been being dragged past the stairwell to the first floor. Steve’s back hit the top of the step hard and momentum caused him to topple down the stairs.

At the bottom step, he laid there, feeling like a bruised peach. There was a throb on the back of his head and his back felt terrible. At the top of the stairs Robert looked down at him with a frown.

“Now look what you did Steve, if you had just taken your punishment this wouldn’t have happened. Sigh, I’m going back to my office, go to your mother if something feels broken, she can take you to our doctor.” Then Robert walked away, closing his office door. Steve held back the prickle of tears in his eyes as he watched his father leave.

Steve carefully stood up, testing each leg for pain. Luckily it seemed that the worst he got was bruising, though he thought he should definitely get his mom to look at his head. The back of it continued to throb painfully to the touch.

He shuffled back up the stairs, wincing at every movement that stretched his sore limbs. He looked wearily at the closed office door, before turning the other direction. Steve made his way down to the end of the hall where there was an open door. In the room his mother sat at her Vanity, putting on a set of diamond earrings.

“Mom?” He called out tentatively into the room. Standing in the doorway awkwardly. She looked over at him from the corner of her eye then turned back to the mirror.

“One second honey. I just need to put the other one in.” Steve just stood in the doorway, shuffling his feet as she finished putting on her earrings. Once complete she stood up and made her way towards Steve. She tutted and fussed at the cuts and bruises on his face, gently holding the sides of his jaw with her manicured nails as she turned it side to side.

“Are you bleeding anywhere else sweetie?” She asked him.

“Can you check the back of my head?”

“Sure thing, turn around for me.” His mom tapped his shoulder and asked Steve to point to where it hurt. Emilie brushed the hair aside with the tips of her nails and Steve flinched as they dragged over the goose egg on his head.

“Well lucky for you there doesn’t seem to be any bleeding. Shake your head for me ok?” Steve shook his head as she asked.

“Good. Now did that make you dizzy or hurt at all?” She asked Steve.

“no.” Steve replied confusedly. Emilie smiled and stood up.

“That’s great sweetie, I’m glad nothing serious happened. I have an event I’m going to now, so be a big boy and remember to wash the cuts on your face thoroughly before bandaging them.” Emilie kissed the top of Steve's head and walked out the door, holding a hand purse to match her diamond earrings.

Steve just stood there for a while, not really thinking of anything in particular. On autopilot he went to the bathroom and pulled out the stepstool, taking out the first aid kit and putting it on the sink. He washed the cuts on his face methodically and put band-aids on the bridge of his nose and chin. He looked at himself in the mirror blankly, bruises starting to form on his left eye socket and scabs on his lips from biting them, the hand shaped bruise on his arm already angry and red.

Steve went to his room and dumped out his school bag, filling it with shirts, a water bottle, his nanas recipes and the rock Jon gave to him. He thought about Jon for a moment before shaking his head.

Taking cash from his allowance drawer he left the house through the backdoor and made his way down the street. He sat at the bus stop and took it all the way to Indianapolis. He thought he remembered the way to where his nana used to live, he knew that the house belonged to their family, so he could just live there and they can forget they have a son they didn’t like.

Getting off the bus he held his bag tight to his chest as he made his way down the sidewalk. The streets and store fronts look different when seen from the ground instead of through a car window and Steve was soon lost in the rush of pedestrians. He was eventually pushed out of the stream of people, stumbling into an alleyway.

Tired and frustrated, he sat down on the cold pavement and leaned against the wall. Steve took the water out of his bag and wished he grabbed a granola bar as well.

Suddenly a door Steve hadn’t noticed further down the alley swung open and a young man walked out. Loud music could be heard from further in before it was cut off again when the door slammed shut. Steve startled but managed to suppress his flinch. The man leaned against the wall next to the door and started to smoke. He hadn’t noticed Steve yet, too focused on getting his finicky lighter to spark.

Steve watched the man, taking in his appearance, he’d never seen anyone like him before. The man was in tall chunky black boots with studs and chains lining the sides, baggy torn jeans with a bleached pattern on them, two belts holding up even more chains, a sleeveless denim jacket with flaming roses painted up the sides and pins covering the collar flaps, his midriff was exposed showing a fishnet underlayer that went up to his neck, his ears were filled with metal, with a big ring on his earlobe stretching it out, he had tattoos of snakes with complicated patterns wrapping around his arm, he had bright electric blue hair that spiked at the top and went down his neck into a mullet, he had spiked wrist cuffs and his nails were painted black, he wore rings of different shapes and sizes, one visible was a skull with red gems for eyes, and his face was covered in make up. His whole face was painted white with grey contour, his lips were blue to match his hair with a magenta gleam on them and his eyelids had bright red eyeshadow that smoked out from the black of eyeliner that ringed all around his eyes.

Steve had never seen anyone like that in real life. Sometimes stuff like that would show up in fashion magazines but not like this.

Eventually the guy noticed Steve looking at him. The guy startled just as much as Steve did, jumping like a spooked cat.

“Wow! sorry kid, didn’t see yea there,” He said, reaching down to put the smoke out on the heel of his platform boot. “Are you waiting for someone inside or if there’s somewhere you need to be I can…” The guy slowed down his ramble once he got an actual look at Steve. The guy saw a kid no older than 10 at best beaten to hell, in an alleyway with nothing but a backpack and the clothes on his back. He particularly noticed the grip mark on the kid's arm and made a mental note of it. The guy squatted down and sat on the ground meeting Steve at his level.

“Hey bud, you look like you’ve had a rough time of it. I can see the band-aids but has anyone taken a look at the bruises? I can get some ice for them if you want.” The guy asked, playing with the rings on his hands, spinning them back and forth. Steve watched them spin for a moment before replying.

“You don’t need to do that, I’m ok”

“nonsense I’m offering so that means you’d be doing me a favor by accepting, ok? If you don’t want me to touch, can I just get you the ice?” Steve nodded his head a little.

“Ok..”

“Great! I’ll be right back.” The guy sprung back up and rushed back into the building, music cutting back in as the door swung open then closed again. For a minute or two Steve just sat there, wondering what he was doing, sitting in an alley in the middle of Indianapolis.

Before Steve could get too far into his own head the guy swung the door open, slamming against the alley wall, this time bringing a handful of things. The guy hobbled towards Steve, vision half obscured by the load he was carrying.

“ok so the moment I was in the back room I kept thinking of things to grab so it’s a bit of a mess.” The guy dropped to the ground and started sorting through the pile he brought along with him.Showing Steve the ice pack along with a blanket and about four granola bars.

“It’s a bit chilly out so giving you an ice pack would just get you shivering so wrap yourself in that so you don’t catch a cold,” the guy tossed the blanket into Steve’s lap absentmindedly. “And I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten so I grabbed a granola bar but then I wasn’t sure if you had any allergies, or didn’t like certain flavors, so I just grabbed a couple so you can keep all of them if you like.” The guy rambled as he pushed the items towards Steve, keeping a distance to avoid startling him. Steve looked at him a bit bewildered, he looked down at the items and felt a bit touched that this complete stranger cared about him more than his own mother seemed to. It made him want to cry all over again. Steve looked back up at the guy who’d just been sitting on the ground twisting his rings round and round.

“Thank you .. um” Steve realized all of the sudden he didn’t know the guy's name. The guy seemed to realize at the same time, widening his eyes in understanding.

“Oh jeez, you probably think I’m some crazy weirdo talking to you in this random alleyway, hold on, let me just,-” The guy rummaged through his pockets, fishing out what looked like a lanyard from his back pocket and pushed it forward so Steve could get a good look at it. “-I’m Jared Wells, I work at the club my brother owns, very creatively named Club Wells.” Jared noticed that Steve squinted and mouthed the words, making a note to look out for symptoms of dyslexia or other developmental disabilities. “We’re pretty underground so we don’t have a front door or anything, which sounds even worse sorry I’m doing this all wrong.” Jared dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Steve giggled at Jared’s antics as he watched him peek an eye out through his fingers, shooting Steve a pho-glare.

“Are you making fun of me? Random small child?” Jared asked in an exaggeratedly depressed tone, frowning cartoonishly through his fingers.

“I’m Steve” Steve rolled his eyes. “And I’m not small, thank you very much.” Steve shot back snottily.

“Of course, whatever you say.” Jared said, raising his hands in the universal symbol for surrender, but his eyes clearly said he thought Steve was indeed quite small for his age. Steve squinted at Jared, trying not to start a pointless argument with someone clearly trying to rile him up.

The banter went back and forth for a little while, Jared finally badgering Steve into eating one of the bars he was handed. Every so often Steve would relax and lean back against the wall and brush against the bruise he’d gotten when he hit the top of the stairs. Every time Steve would flinch back and Jared would dart his eyes to the action before looking back at him. When a lull in conversation opened Jared hesitantly opened his mouth.

“Hey Steve, you can say no but I kept noticing that your back is injured.. I, ah.. took this with me earlier and was going to give it to you for your arm but it might be better for your back.” Jared pulled out a disposable cold compress. “Will you let me help you with it?” Jared handed Steve the compress. He looked down at it, crinkling the paper in his hands. He looked up at Jared and back down to the compress a few times before hesitantly accepting.

Jared scooted over on his knees awkwardly, making Steve laugh again. Jared smiled at Steve and asked if he could pull up the back of his shirt. Jared sucked air in through his teeth as he looked at the mess of muddled bruising all over his back. The biggest patch was already blackening into a painful looking bruise over the kid's shoulder blade and upper back. Jared was sure it was only luck that seemed to have saved the kid from fracturing anything by the looks of these injuries. As he tore open the compress and decided how to place the patch, Steve kept looking over at Jared then back away, like he wanted to ask a question.

“What’s up kid? You can ask me anything.” Jared offered readily.

“oh..um.. I was just curious about.. the” Steve struggled to find the right words, in the end simply making a sweeping hand gesture around his face and down his body. Jared chuckled at the description.

“You mean my clothes and makeup? I’m surprised it hasn't come up yet, I know it’s pretty out there. Sorry if it made you uncomfortable.” Jared replied apologetically as he finished placing the compress and sat back down next to Steve.

“No, it's not that!” Steve blurted out quickly, curling in on himself as he rested his head on his knees. “I just.. didn’t know boys were allowed to dress like that. And.. wear makeup.” Steve muttered into the denim on his jeans, idly picking at a stray thread on his sock.

“Well, it is true it’s uncommon in polite society.” Jared said this with vocal distaste as he flashed finger quotes, rolling his eyes for good measure. “ But places like this-” Jared pointed his thumb towards the club he had exited from, “We are open to everybody that society ostracizes, Metal heads, crossdressers, immigrants, whether you're queer or on any part of the gender spectrum. Everyone that society tells are Satan-worshipping sinners destined to burn in hell flock here for community, well other than actually bad people obviously we aren’t some criminal underground, no matter what the distressed housewives tell the police when they see a guy in a studded jacket walking in their prissy neighborhood.” Jared finished off, taking a deep breath as he realized he forgot to breathe.

Steve looked deep in thought, staring at the ground between his feet.

“and that’s ok?… being q- being any of those things? It doesn’t make you..wrong?” Jared ignored the little slip and slouched against the wall, letting out a long breath through his teeth..

“Someone tell you that kid?” Jared looked over Steve’s injuries surreptitiously. Steve squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, rhythmically tightening and loosening the grip on his knees.

“My..Dad…he has a lot to say about how a man is supposed to act…and that… no son of his would be queer if he knew what was good for him..” Steve ended his sentence in a whisper, as if simply saying it out loud would manifest his father in front of them. Jared leaned forward until their faces were parallel and made eye contact with Steve, softening his expression the best he can and masking the bubbling anger for a man he doesn’t even know.

“And how do you feel about that?” Jared prodded gently, causing Steve to fidget nervously.

“I don’t know… I don’t even really understand what it means? Like, what if it’s all just in my head and… and I do something, or try something, and I don’t even like it, but I’ve already done it and my dad wouldn’t care if I said it was a mistake or not. He would just see it and say he knew all along he raised a dirty queer-” Steve’s sentence was cut off as he burst into tears, causing Jared to freak out a little, haphazardly reaching forward to comfort the boy.

“wow wow kid hey it’s ok let it out” Jared put a hand on his shoulder encouraging Steve to bury his head into Jared’s Jacket. Jared petted the kids head and mumbled quiet platitudes until Steve’s crying petered out to a quiet sniffle. Steve pulled away and wiped the tears from his face, dislodging the band-aid on his chin that was now wet with tears, its stick almost completely rubbed off. Steve absentmindedly pulled it from his cheek and folded it together, stuffing it in the small pocket in the front of his backpack.

“sorry..” Steve sniffled quietly.. Jared’s heart hurts for the kid.

“Hey, nothing to be sorry for, nothing at all. It seems like that was building up for a while. Feelings and thoughts can be hard to parse through when you can only think about it in your head. I think when you verbalized it, it was the first time you really realized what it might mean for yourself, and I think that confirms more for yourself than you think.” They just sat there for a bit in thought as Steve took in what Jared had said, trying to come to terms with a part of himself he didn’t yet understand. Finally Jared broke the silence.

“So is it a boy?” Jared asked, looking anywhere but Steve. Steve’s face turned red and buried it in his palms, tension from the serious conversation broken.

“Shut uuup!” Steve whined pitifully while Jared pursed his lips and snickered.

“what? I’m your big brother Jared now, here to educate and introduce you to the wonderful world of queer culture and the alt lifestyle, it’s my job to be embarrassing!” Jared said, spreading his hands to either side in a what can you do gesture.

“alt life?” Steve asked through his fingers, face still red.

“Alternative lifestyle my dude. It’s kind of a catch all term that’s basically anything that differs from the norm, really common within the music and fashion scene. You’ll hear it a lot here since not everyone has time to explain their very specific niche of death rock they have dedicated their life to or whatever.” Jared ended with a shrug.

“oh.” Was all Steve said. Jared nudged his foot with his boot.

“soooooo. a boy?” Jared gives a toothy smile, trying to hide a snicker. Steve blushed again and twisted his fingers.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Jared concedes. “But I want you to know you can talk to me about anything, I won’t judge, cross my heart” Jared swiped his thumb across his chest in demonstration and Steve took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

“I don’t know, maybe we’re just really good friends? How are you supposed to tell if you like a boy the same way you’re supposed to like girls?” Steve wondered miserably. Jared raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, ready to impart his queer wisdom.

“Well first let's not use language like “supposed to”, cus that's not really how it works, you just feel there’s no right or wrong way. Second.. Well, liking someone can be expressed in many ways, and at your age there’s no rush in finding the answers for that, but if you want a good start, liking someone romantically as opposed to liking someone as a friend means you want to mean something to them that is wholly unique. When you hold a friend's hand you’re just holding hands, but if you want to hold the hand of someone you like, you want it to mean something that you’re holding hands. This is a bit nuanced but I’ve always thought the advice of wanting to kiss them or giving and receiving gifts was a bit too specific for such a broad range of emotions. Sometimes you want to do all those things or none of them and that’s ok, what matters is that for a relationship to work both of you have to be on the same page. Got all that?” Jared asks Steve who’s honestly a bit overwhelmed.

“Um.. sorta? you lost me a bit half way through.” Steve said hesitantly. Jared uncrossed his arms and rested his elbows on his knees.

“That’s ok, these kinda things will become more clear as you grow up, what matters is that even though the world at large looks down their nose at it, exploring how you want to express yourself is ok, even if at the end of the day you don’t like any of it. Curiosity is the mother of invention or whatever Benjamin Franklin said.” Jared finished, feeling pretty satisfied with his speech.

Steve stewed in Jared's words for a bit. “Do I want me and Jon to be something special?” Steve thought about sitting in the woods together, both bruised and bandaged. “Do I want holding hands to mean something?” Steve thought about pulling Jon along with him while playing at recess. “Do me and Jon give or receive gifts?” Steve thinks about the rock sitting in his bag. “Do I want to kiss him?” Steve couldn’t even imagine, too flustered to give the idea any more thought. Steve knew Jon was important to him and that was all that mattered to him in that moment. Steve didn’t know if he’d ever tell him, but he still wanted to do something that showed how much Jon meant to him.

Steve bit his lip. “What about wanting to help someone?” Jared looked over quizzically.

“You mean like with homework? Or something else…” Jared said, eye line straying momentarily to the bruises on Steve’s face. He waited patiently for Steve to continue. Steve slowly nodded his head.

“It's just, well, this..friend I have, um. We have similar problems at home, except when he gets hurt, it gets really hard for him to speak.” Steve's expression became downcast. “I stay with him until it gets better when I can, and any time he had something he wanted to say he can always write it down, but I wish there was something else we could do. I tried to tell him about sign language when I learned about it but his dad thinks the muteness is something he has to get over and we can’t allow him to have a crutch. Which I think is really dumb. You seem to know a lot of stuff, so maybe there’s something alternative that we could use to help him speak? I just.. Hate when he lets his father take his voice.” Steve ended morosely, pulling on his fingers painfully. Jared gently pried his hands apart and handed him a dense feeling ball to squeeze.

Jared honestly was at a bit of a loss. Physical punishment wasn’t foreign to his own childhood, but years with his older brother had made those memories faded and distant. Not that he wasn’t grateful, he thanked the world every day for letting him grow up away from his birth parents' home, but it meant he really couldn’t fathom the type of situation these kids were in. He sighed internally, Jared didn’t want the kid to clam up if he brought it up but he was starting to think kidnapping him was a better option then letting him go home.
“Hmm, truth be told, sign language was my first thought when you mentioned your friend's problem, but I understand why it might be hard to get around if both your families are stubbornly against you learning it.” Jared scratched his upper lip absentmindedly. “For future reference, your friend's muteness is likely caused by anxiety, which is that tight feeling in your chest when you're scared or nervous. When he gets older, if he is able to get away from his current stressors it should get better on its own.” Steve looked resignedly at the pavement, distracted by the thought that it would be years before Jon would even have the chance to get away. He snapped his attention back to Jared as he continued.

“However I understand that there isn’t a lot you can do about that, so in the meantime I think I have a fun solution to allow better conversations to flow even when he’s mute.” Steve perks up at the thought that he could talk to Jon even when he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts.

“You see, there’s this cool thing I know that might work for you two.” Jared leaned down and fished around in his many snap pockets on his pants and found a small palm size notepad and pen. Jared quickly started jotting down symbols and words on the paper, waving Steve closer to get a better look.

“There’s this alphabet called morse code, where all the letters are short and long taps. You can listen to the rhythm of the taps to make sentences or once you get the hang of it tapping on your skin you’ll be able to feel the letters.” Jared tore the paper off the pad and gave it to Steve, paper covered with dots and dashes next to each letter. Steve squinted at the paper and looked nervously at Jared who thought he knew what the problem was.

“What’s up? I know my handwriting isn’t the best so tell me if any of them are hard to read.” Steve looked a bit distressed at that and looked back and forth a couple of times.

“Kid?” Jared coaxed.

“um.. reading is.. I’m not very good at it, I’m trying really hard I promise but I still get them mixed up a lot. Could you tap them out for me to hear?” Steve asked, embarrassed to tell someone he was starting to look up to about a perceived failing of his. Jared smiled encouragingly at the kid.

“Of course Steve, now listen closely, this is the taps for the letter A-”

…
“alright let’s go through that one more time-” Just as Jared was about to go over them again the door behind them slammed open and an older man popped his head out, face red and covered in an exasperated expression.

“Jared, you said you were going on your smoke break over an hour ago! When I said you needed to relax more I meant at the apartment not during a shift-”. The older man stopped short as he laid eyes on the scene of Jared, sitting on the ground leaning over a piece of paper with a little kid that looked beat like an old banana, wrapped in the blanket he got for Jared two Christmases ago.

“what the… gimmi a sec.. fuck just..” The older man cursed as he tried to go out into the alley, only to be held back by the chains he was wearing getting stuck on the doorway, finally getting free and stumbling back. As soon as he righted himself he rushed over to the two and squatted down.

“What in the? What is going on Jared?! I turn around for one second and you acquire an injured child. I’m Frank by the way, sorry for the sudden introduction, but damn, those bruises are nasty, come on kid who’s it that did this to you? I’ll teach them not to beat on kids with my fist in their face, how bout it?” Jared and Steve looked at each other taking in the antics of what was presumably Jared's alleged older brother and started laughing.

“What? What are you laughing at? This is serious!!” Frank blustered, looking between the two before settling on Jared with an exasperated glare.

“I see where you got it from.” Steve said to Jared through laughter.

“Hey! I’m not that bad!” Jared defended himself through a chuckle of his own. A tick mark appeared on Frank's brow.

“It seems someone has been telling stories about me.” Frank gave Jared a look that promised pain in the near future if he didn’t give the right answer. Jared only smiled brighter and the expression.

“Only embarrassing things I promise.” Jared replies cheekily. Frank scoffs and ruffles Jared's hair much to his vocal displeasure. Frank sat down on the ground and joined into their little circle.

“Ok ok, in all seriousness though do you need a place to stay kid? Those bruises are bad, I don’t like the idea of sending you home. Do you think calling the police would help your situation?” Frank hated having to ask that last question but he’d seen too many situations where calling the police only made the situation worse. Steve rapidly shook his head, a hint of fear crossing his expression.

“my family has money… like, a lot of it. They’ve already paid off the police before when someone saw something.” Steve looked down at the ground. Frank and Jared look at each other.

“What about staying a night or two? It looked like you left in the spur of the moment, but would staying out a night cause search parties to go out?” Jared asked uncertainly. “We don’t have much, but you can stay on our couch if you need to.” Jared looked at Frank for confirmation. Frank scrunched his eyebrows in worry but didn’t disagree.

“I honestly don’t know.. if it was a weekend I wouldn’t be surprised if they wouldn’t notice if I was gone the whole time, but if I don’t show up for school tomorrow it’ll be a nightmare.” Steve muttered.

Frank and Jared watched as Steve drew nonsensical lines and swirls in the dusty sand with his finger, eyes fixed to the ground. Jared looked over to Frank to tap out a silent conversation.

Jared: [can we keep him?]

Frank: [no you idiot that’s kidnapping!]

Jared: [even if he’s like this?]

Frank: [Jared if this kid's parents send out the police and they find him with us? They’ll think we did that to him. It won’t matter what we say.]

Jared: [I just don’t feel ok letting this kid leave like this, I’ll worry to death over him for the rest of my life wondering what happened to him.]

Frank: [Just offer a place to stay at the club like everybody else.]

Jared: [isn’t he a bit young to be in a club?]

Frank: [Oh yeah for sure, I’m not letting him on the club floor till he’s at least a teenager if not an adult]

Jared rolled his eyes.

Jared: [then what are you suggesting?”]

Frank: [Obviously we let the kid up to our place if he needs a place to sleep, but he can chill out in the back hall and staff lounge whenever, it’s not the first time we’ve had special cases like this. It’s just the first time they are this young.]

Jared: [gotcha]

Frank pulls back and stands up stretching his back.

“ooookay. That’s enough sitting on the ground for me.” Frank cracked his back liberally as he leaned back and forth.

“You can chill out here as long as you like or come inside the hall or staff lounge if you feel comfortable. Jared can make sure you get back to the bus stop safely once you want to go, I don’t feel like letting you get swamped by the street crowd that likely stranded you in this dingy alley in the first place. Just remember you’re always welcome here, and that our couch offer is open ended. You need a place to stay, we got you.” Frank gave double finger guns.

“I’m gonna get back in there before someone sets something on fire that’s not supposed to be on fire.” Frank waved and made his way back in, holding his chains away from the doorway.

“Frank’s pretty cool.” Steve concluded solemnly to Jared. Jared chuffed in response.

“right? He’s such a mother hen but he’s the best brother I could’ve asked for.” Jared replied, looking a moment longer at the closed door. Jared turned back to Steve.

“Are you ready to go back?” Jared asked. He honestly hoped Steve would say no. Hell be damned, this kid didn’t deserve the shit he’d been putting up with.

“Not really.” Steve mumbled, but he soon stood up and put his backpack back on, shuffling the blanket on his shoulders into his arms holding it out to Jared along with the stress ball he’d been gripping this entire time. Jared waved his hand dismissively.

“You can keep the ball, god knows I keep a whole box full just laying around, and you can hold onto the blanket until we get to the bus stop, it’s chilly out and the sun is starting to sink below the skyline.” Jared wrapped the blanket around Steve’s shoulders, now over the back pack as well and tucked under the straps.

“How about we go over the morse again on the way there?” Jared offered and Steve nodded his head, following Jared down the street while holding his hand so he wouldn’t get lost.

…
As the bus arrived at the stop, Steve gave back the blanket, fiddling with his shirt cuffs. Jared knelt down and held Steve’s shoulder.

“I meant it kid, anytime, you’re welcome to stay with us. If it’s just to get out of the house for a few hours or to stay the night.” Jared said meaningfully. Steve hugged Jared around the neck and Jared held his back gingerly.

“Ok, thanks Jared. You were a pretty cool older brother today.” Steve said before pulling back and scampering onto the bus. Jared sat there frozen in place until the bus had left and he was just squatting in the street like a weirdo. Jared put his head in his hands and wined. “Such a cute kid.”

…
Arriving back home the house looked exactly the same as when he left. Putting his shoes back in their place he crept up the stairs and went back to his room, putting his things back where they belong and filling his bag back up with school supplies.

Going downstairs he opened the fridge to see the dinner wrapped up in cellophane. He took the food out and portioned his serving onto a dinner plate, putting the rest back in the fridge and popping his plate in the microwave oven. Sitting at the table by himself he ate his dinner, cleaned up his plate, and went to bed. The only difference now being that next to his nanas recipes and Jon's rock he now had the stress ball Jared gave him.

Over the next two years Steve went back to Club Wells many times, often spending the night on weekends where his parents were out on business and the only ones in the house were the cleaning staff and neglectful nannies hired to “look after him”. When the weather got colder, he would sit in the lounge or hall and listen to the music through the walls, talking to Jared or Frank and occasionally other staff or club members who were allowed in the back.

Steve was finally proficient enough in morse to teach it to Jon, who was shocked and delighted by Steve's thoughtful idea. Steve and Jon soon worked on morse together, starting to have small conversations under the tables at school, causing them to hold back laughter at seemingly nothing, sometimes getting them into trouble, however this only brought them closer together. Steve told Jon about Jared and how cool he was, only giving vague details about the club and skirting around the entire queer conversation, too afraid to bring it up.

Steve’s grades didn’t improve much but one day Frank sat him down and told him about dyslexia, and taught him a few tricks that would help when the words got all wiggly, so it was just enough to keep the worst of his fathers ire at bay.

Things changed again when Steve was 11 years old and it was the end of elementary school. Steve and Jon were walking together through the woods talking about what their plans were for the summer. Jon was walking Steve to the tree line of his backyard when they got a bit too comfortable. Steve held Jon’s hand and swung them by their side. Jon smiled and turned away but leaned his head on Steve's shoulder.

Just as the tree line came into view a shout came from Steve’s house.

“Steve Harrington, what in God’s name am I seeing right now?!” Steve’s father yelled as he stomped towards them. Steve turned to Jon in panic, shoving Jon behind him and back towards where had come.

“Run. Run right now. We can’t let him see you.” Steve urged under his breath.

“what? But-” Jon tried to protest but Steve pushed on his shoulders, driving his steps back and making him stumble.

“Right now Jon, do you know what he’ll do to you if he catches you? Run now!” Steve whispered fervently. With one final look back Jon ran into the woods the last thing Jon heard was Steve’s father yell.

“What dirty queer is touching my kid?! I’ll ruin you!”

Steve intercepted his father, ready to pepper him with “it wasn't like that" but before he could open his mouth he was grabbed by the hair, roots fisted in an iron grip that pulled on his scalp. Robert forced Steve's head to look up at him, causing Steve to strain at the awkward angle.

“Who the fuck has been turning you queer son?” Robert seethed. Practically spitting in his face. Steve swallowed a whimper, trying to steal his nerves for the beating he was about to receive.

“No one dad, it's all a misunderstanding-” Robert cut him off as he started to walk back into the house, Steve staggering along by the hand gripped in his hair. Dragged across the lawn towards the backdoor, Steve’s heart pounded furiously in his chest, feeling the all too familiar tightness Jared told him about. Too bad it didn’t seem like the breathing exercises he taught Steve to help Jon through his panic attacks would be any use right now.

“That queer brainwashed you Steve, you actually believe it’s worth something.” Robert sneered when he said ‘it’, like simply referring to Jon left a bad taste in his mouth.” Don’t worry, when I’m done with you you’ll have forgotten about any of the silly ideas that boy got in your head.” Robert dragged Steve through the kitchen and up the stairs, into his office, closing the door behind them.

…
Steve woke up groggily in a hospital bed, white ceiling and scratchy sheets nostalgic from his many appointments as a child. Moving his head to the side proved to be unwise as his head spun at the mere attempt. He was familiar with the sensation from a sports accident last summer, he must have another concussion, and by the feel of it this was a whole lot worse than his last one. Taking stock of his body he realized that the concussion wasn’t the only worrying injury. His arm was in a thick cast and the tell tale feeling of bruising and laceration from his father’s ministrations were all over his body. Steve could honestly say he didn’t remember most of what happened in that room, which he’s grateful for. However after this event Steve would occasionally wake, a scream trapped in his throat, the words “Tell me that little queers name Steve, I’ll make sure he never touches you again.” left on repeat in the back of his head along with the sound of that belt snapping. He wished many times to have forgotten it all, so he could save himself from another reason he would flinch away from his father.

When Steve awoke in the hospital the first time, his mother was with him, crying by the side of the bed. In the following days he would find out that his parents had had their biggest fight yet due to his injuries, and decided to spend some time apart. For the next month while Steve was on bedrest for his concussion, he saw his mother more than he thought he had at one time since he was a baby. Her attention both surprised and unnerved him. He wished desperately that his mother had decided to stay permanently at the house, no matter how many times he heard classmates wish to get their parents to leave them alone he didn’t think the reality was all that fun. As the summer passed, a small hope began to grow, that maybe things would change.

It was as Steve had gone from a cast to a compression sleeve that the news was flooded with a scandal. “Robert Harrington Seen With Female Celebrity! Trouble between the sports world’s power couple??!!” It was on the front page of every sports magazine and gossip rag, as if someone wanted to make sure the whole world knew about it. It was the first time in Steve’s life he’d seen his mother angry. She started to drink a lot of wine at any hour of the day and threw the glass in her hand at the wall every time her call to his office went to voicemail. After a week of being stone walled by Robert’s secretary, Emille packed her bags, and Steve was sent away to a boy scouts summer camp, to spend the rest of the summer tying knots, building fires, and playing sports games in the woods with a bunch of boys he’d never met and will never see again.

When middle school started Steve felt adrift. Jon was still in 5th grade and his mother was now glued to his fathers side to prevent anymore cheating, leaving Steve more alone then he’d been in his life. He didn’t know how to act anymore, he was unmoored, caught in between being the elite his father wanted him to be and the delinquent his father told him he was becoming, and Steve now knew the consequences of falling into the latter category.

When Steve went to Club Wells for the first time since the summer, it was like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. Jared and Frank were so relieved to see him, worried sick at what such a long absence had meant. They sat together, and in fits and starts Steve recalled what he could of the situation, leaning against Jared in support as Frank kept a steady hand holding his own. Jared and Frank consoled Steve, wishing they could do more for him, and distracting him with funny anecdotes from club goers and incidents that went down while he was away. As the day passed into night they heard about his time at summer camp and complained light heartedly on the lackluster camp food. Frank was happy to reset Steve’s pallet as they settled in to eat dinner together, already assuming Steve would be staying the night.

When the sun had long set and Steve and Frank were setting out the blankets and pillows on the couch, Steve tentatively asked a question.

“How can I be exactly who my father wants me to be without getting rid of everything that makes me..me?” Frank sighed and took out a cigarette, walking behind the couch and opening the window before lighting it and taking a few puffs.

“The honest truth is, you can’t, not really. Today many people like us mold ourselves into what society expects of us, and we lose a part of ourselves in the process. That’s why places like this exist and why I opened Club Wells, so people like us could have a safe place to remember who we are, and remember they aren’t alone, that there are people like us, who accept us.” Steve scrunched his brow, fiddling with the band of his watch.

“But how do I do that? How do I be someone I’m not and then go back to being me later?” Steve asked.

“Let me tell you a little thing called method acting. The idea is that you create the version of yourself that society or the people around you want. Write down the traits they should have, how to act, and if the character needs to dress or talk a certain way. Once you have the character all written out you look at the things that make you different from them, add one or two things that you think both of them can have, like a hobby or fashion choice. That way you have something to hold onto on the days pretending is hard. But the most important thing is, at the end of everyday, you remind yourself of who you actually are. Repression is pretty unhealthy long term, which is how you’ve got clubs like mine having ragers almost every day. The peeps gotta decompress from pushing themselves down all the time, and finding ways to do that that aren’t destructive is healthy.” Jared finished, pointing downwards out the window, as if pointing to the club below their feet. Steve looked away from the strap he had been overly invested in picking at and over at Frank.

“But.. does it work? Won’t people know it’s fake?” Steve asked tiredly. Frank sighed a heavy cloud out the window and closed his eyes.

“Honestly? It’s a toss up. People see what they want to see and sometimes, if you look too queer, you’ll be stuck with the label whether you are or not. Most people however, like to pretend everyone is exactly like them, and as long as you stay within their narrow perception of what constitutes an acceptable member of society in their eyes they won’t look your way. However some people just aren’t cut out to do this type of long term acting. If you feel like you can’t sustain it you gotta dial it back. Forcing yourself to be someone else even when it’s detrimental to your health is dangerous, and I’m including mental health, this shit makes you depressed. But, I do know it works. I’m first hand proof.” Frank smiled down at Steve and fished his wallet from his back pocket, pulling out a well worn photo.

“This is me and Jared if you can believe it.” Frank pointed to a young man in the photo who looked to have barely reached adulthood in an ironed suit jacket, holding the hand of a little boy no older than eight years old.

“Our parents were real pieces of work, we were way below the poverty line and our parents were using all our food and house money on drugs. It was pretty brutal. When I was close to aging out I knew I wouldn’t leave Jared alone in that cesspit. I had been in the underground alt community for a few years and knew the court would rather my little brother slowly die from starvation than stay with a devil worshiping queer, so when I heard about this method I did my best with it.” Frank smiled at Steve encouragingly. “I created this character of a diligent scholar who was born in the wrong place. I took as many AP classes as I could and took prerequisite classes at the local community college. I studied my butt off and graduated early from college with an associates degree for sales analysis at the age of 19. I went straight into a job managing properties for apartment complexes here in Indiana. It was soul crushing work and those are some of the dullest years of my life, but it was all worth it for Jared. This photo is when I filed for emergency custody and started the court case against our parents to take full custody. I was really lucky to have gotten the emergency custody before the court case started so our parents couldn’t see us at all for the following years. I kept my act straight for almost 8 years until Jared turned 14 and we filed for emancipation, he’d always been a talented artist and went into an apprenticeship at a tattoo parlor. After that I slowly started to put away my facade and used the money saved up from working all those years to open the club we run today.” Jared finished his story, looking fondly at the photo before putting it back away.

“What I want you to take away is that it doesn’t have to last forever. You just need to reach a point that being your real self won’t hurt yourself or the people you care about. Take your time to think about it and don’t be shy to run anything by me.” Frank ruffled Steve’s hair as he stubbed out his cigarette and left it on the ash tray on the sill. “It’s getting pretty late, you should get some sleep while I start my night work. Sleep on what we talked about and we can talk about it more in the morning.” Frank made sure Steve was all tucked in before he rubbed his knuckles against his forehead and turned all but the kitchen light off, heading back out to the madness of the club below as Steve drifted off.

Sixth grade passed by in a flash as Steve began to form the person king Steve would someday be. Now that Steve was “growing up” his parents started spending more time away. He was supposedly “too old” for nannies and started getting used to his new normal of being left completely to his own devices for one to two weeks at a time only to have his parents return home and micro-manage his whole life. Steve struggled with the feelings of abandonment and claustrophobic attention. He felt guilty while feeling either, telling himself he shouldn’t be feeling lonely when during the times his parents were around he’s suffocated by eyes watching his every step. However in light of that, these long absences resulted in a couple different things changing drastically in his life.

Steve was suddenly in charge of all his meals. No longer were there pre-prepared meals in the fridge, made presumably by the nannies. After weeks of pb&J’s and takeout pizza, Steve decided it was time to pull out his Nana's recipes and give them a try. Learning everything on his own made it so there was a lot of trial and error, only guided by the vague memories of watching his Nana cook. But Steve slowly gained proficiency in many of the recipes, connecting with a part of himself he thought he’d lost when she passed away.

A perk of his parents' latest five star parenting method was that Steve suddenly had a lot of leeway to express himself and be out of the house. Music and fashion he’d always been too scared to sneak home was now easily brought in the house, straight to its hiding place of course. His time away also became more frequent, spending practically every weekend away with the Well’s. Only returning home for school and when he received a call informing him his parents were returning.

Middle school also brought with it the surprise blessing of standardized state tests, which Steve learned he could take in Indianapolis with an accommodation for an auditory test rather than a paper one. Although the process was tedious and he had to go out of his way to make sure it stayed under wraps, it took a weight off his shoulders to see the numbers on his gpa rise, even if his grades didn’t show it.

Steve threw himself into sports more than ever. He joined the swim team, got up early every morning to go on runs with the track team, and played on the basketball team when it wasn’t swim season. With all the struggle he had with school he loved physical activity, the feeling of his blood racing through his body. Many of his new school friends came from sports clubs and activities. The identity Steve had fashioned lined up with his fathers wants of a rising sports star, somewhat air headed and arrogant, yet head strong when it came to picking on others. It might be an act but he wouldn’t be a dick.

During the summer Steve gave himself a project to make a fort in the woods. It was something he and Jon had talked about and he felt he had to at least try. Steve thanked the scout mentors from last summer in his head for teaching him how to make simple structures as he slowly made steps and ladders up the trunks into the tops of the trees, spending the summer bringing pieces one at a time up to build himself a lookout. Once or twice he would stay up there all night, listening to music on his cassette player. The fort became the one place in Hawkins he knew for a fact he could be 100% himself in without worrying about being caught.

Seventh grade was more of the same, peacocking around with his new posse of sports teammates. However there was one glaring difference. Jon had finally entered middle school. Now this would have been great before, and Steve had missed Jon so much, but Steve hadn’t talked to Jon since last summer, too afraid of the chance that his father finding out it was Jon he was with that day, and now with a persona in place, getting along with Jon again is twice was difficult, knowing that his character was more likely to push Jon around then pull him aside for a heart to heart.

A couple of times Steve tried to subtly send Jon a message in morse but was shut out. Jon was clearly hurt by Steve’s blatant cold shoulder and Steve could only feel miserable about it. Falling farther into the role he created. Viewing everything he did as his character's actions and not his own, to make the cold glares he got hurt less.

One day, while Steve was staying at Frank and Jared's place, he was complaining to Frank that he always felt he missed out on the books they read in class, and that at least if he knew what was going on he wouldn’t be berated so much in English. Steve told Frank that cassettes he found for books were sparse and he wished there were more recordings of the books he could listen to. Frank told him he should just have them made himself and offered to find some college kids from the club looking for extra money so Steve can just pay them to record them reading them. Steve thought it was a really cool idea. Frank also pointed out that this could apply to any book Steve wanted to read, not just the ones at school. Steve started making a list of all the books he thought sounded cool but never had the time or ability to read. Starting a collection of tapes that would one day fill an entire bookshelf.

At one point Steve was asked out by a girl in eighth grade. He thought that it would be weird for him to say no and that she was pretty. During the date they kissed and Steve liked it. He was in character at the time so didn’t physically freak out but internally Steve was having a melt down, worrying that he’s made himself straight and started to catastrophize that he was never into guys at all and he had just never liked a girl before then. The next day Steve went straight to club Wells and confessed his worries to Jared who consoled him by revealing that people can like both genders and that Steve liking girls too was a good thing because if he falls in love with a girl he wouldn’t have to fake a relationship or hide his real one.

In the summer between middle and high school, Robert Harrington decided his son was at the age to start going on business trips with them occasionally to gain real world experience. Steve, now with a couple years of acting experience, was really starting to grow into his so-called Harrington charm. Although Steve definitely gained a lot of business experience, he also gained just as much attention from his father for his mistakes.

The silver lining ended up being that Steve got to experience many more open minded places. Plenty of days on these trips Steve was left to his own devices to explore cities and interact with locals. Although one interaction Steve remembered having during one of these trips left a bad taste in his mouth.

During a business dinner between his father and an associate, he was left to mingle with the businessman's daughter, she was very beautiful and a fair few years older than him. The way she talked to him made him uncomfortable. She kept leaning into his space and asking him questions like; Have you been with anyone before?, and; Do you know what girls like in bed? Questions that she would answer with a lot of details Steve was hearing for the first time. Sex was something Steve knew about predominantly from second hand retellings from boys talking in the locker rooms about their older siblings. Steve had only recently become aware of people in a sexual way, curiosity and embarrassment at the topic overshadowed by the societal expectations surrounding sex as an act of pleasure over intimacy. Steve wondered if this would a become a part of his character to play, finding what line he couldn’t cross before his uncomfortability wins out or if it could be something he shared with it.

As freshman year of high school started, in walked one Tommy H, the son of a business man who traveled for work and had moved to Hawkins for a long term project in Indianapolis. Tommy was cruel and mean-spirited but he was also competitive and hard working, he was the exact kind of friend his father would love Steve to have. A friend that gave him a business connection.

Befriending Tommy wasn’t that difficult in all honesty. Steve had started to gain a reputation for being popular with girls and Tommy wanted to ride his clout and get a girlfriend. After being friends with Tommy for a while Steve realized that he couldn’t stand being around a bully and that he was going to have to figure out how to get him to cut that shit out without losing his growing reputation as an arrogant headstrong sport star. Steve’s persona started to turn slightly more aloof and dismissive, telling Tommy he had too much free time if he had time heckling the nerds and outcasts and other things like that.

Entering high school also meant sports started to mean something concrete. Steve continued what he had done in middle school and joined the high school swim team for the fall semester and switched to basketball in the spring, interspersing the two with going to track meets in the early mornings. He also started a workout routine at home that he built with his coach. He was starting to receive comments like ‘you’re going places Steve’, which was a far cry from the comments he had received in the past.

One day, after the end of a basketball game, he and his cheerleader girlfriend at the time were both at an afterparty together. Loud music was pulsing all through the person's house, living room and kitchen filled with people drinking and chatting. Steve had his arm around his girlfriend's waist as he chatted with some of his teammates. One of them elbowed Steve in the side and pointed to an open door down the hall.

“Hey Steve, you and your girl should go have some alone time don’t you think?” The dude wiggled his eyebrows salaciously at him. Steve smirked back and looked down at his girlfriend's face, squeezing her waist a little tighter.

“What do you think sweetheart? Wanna take a moment to ourselves?” Steve’s girlfriend blushed and turned her head against Steve nodding her head shyly. The group of dudes ohed and cheered as Steve and his girlfriend went into the private room, locking the door behind them. At that moment Steve mentally evaluated how he was feeling, although he wasn’t dating her seriously this girl was sweet and he didn’t want to hurt her by doing something she wasn’t ready for. Whether Steve was ready was a question he didn’t have the answer to. They had made out a few times before and laid in each other's arms and Steve had liked that but Sex still felt like a daunting proposition.

Steve went and sat on the edge of the bed, patting the side beside him waiting until his girlfriend sat beside him. He held her hand and leaned his head on her shoulder.

“We don’t really have to do anything if you don’t want to. Those guys were just being dickheads.” Steve said to her. She blushed and shook her head, keeping her eyes on her lap.

“No, it’s um.. I want to try, if you want to..” she fidgeted, building the courage to continue. “Do you have a condom?” Now it was Steve's turn to blush as he nodded his head.

It was awkward and messy, giggling when their legs got tangled or adjusting when his arm pressed too hard over her hair against the bed. It wasn’t like anything Steve thought it would be and yet still everything he thought it would be at the same time. At the end of it Steve could say pretty solidly that he had enjoyed sex with a girl, and he didn’t think it was just a platitude when his girlfriend said she liked it as well.

They broke up not long after that night but Steve remembered her fondly as his first somewhat serious girlfriend. After that Steve began actively looking for girls to hook up with, gaining the additional comment to his popular freshman reputation that he was good in bed. He would continue to flip flop between long and short term relationships for the rest of the year.

During the spring after Steve turned 15, Steve argued to Frank and Jared that he should be allowed to go into the club now.

“You should at least wait until you’re 16, you’re still a kid!” Frank huffed. Steve threw his hands into the air indignantly.

“I’m not a kid anymore Frank, I’ve had sex!”

“I did not need to know that” Frank groaned as Jared shared a fist bump with Steve.

“Come on Frank, how old were you when you started going into clubs?” Jared argued playfully. Frank pointed a finger at Jared frustrated.

“Not helping Jared.” Jared and Steve snickered. Frank let out a long sigh.

“Alright alright I’ll let you go in, ububububub hold your horses there are ground rules. Don’t groan, they are very reasonable. No drinking alcohol or smoking anything harder than a cigarette, yes Jared I know you’ve been letting him bum from you. And stick by Jared's side the first few times so I don’t get a brain hemorrhage if I see you crushed in the mosh pit by overexcited guys twice your body weight. You got that Steve.” Frank looked at Steve sternly. Steve saluted him.

“Yes mom, no alcohol or hard drugs and stay with the babysitter.” Jared swiped at Steve playfully as Steve danced out of the way. Frank sighed but shewed them off to have their fun.

Steve for the first time got to be in a public space fully decked in his gear. He’d dressed up for himself and with Jared before but this would be the first time he could be completely out with other people.

It felt awkward at first but helped Steve grow out of his shell away from the expectations that weighed down on him all the time.

As Sophomore year began Steve started to solidify his reputation as a serial dater, having his fair share of experiences with both men and women from the club as well. Tommy found a girlfriend just as mean as him, Carol. The two of them together created a bitch-fest that was honestly quite funny to listen to when it wasn't making him cringe from their casual cruelty.

Sophomore year also created a new dynamic with Steve and Jon. Jon didn’t seem like he hated Steve as much, the glares fading into weary glances. He had become closed off and introverted, only seeming to be casual friends with a few classmates or mutuals from the photography club. Steve wished he could reach out to him but knew that doing so would open a can of worms Steve wasn’t ready for. It did create the unusual circumstances where Tommy would occasionally pick Jonathan as his victim of the day and he would send messages through morse warning Jon of the incoming trouble.

…
Steve was walking down the hall with Tommy and Carol, crowd parting for them as they passed when sticking out from the side was Jonathan, who was distracted trying to remember his locker code. Fiddling with a pen in his hand he clicked the morse for [DUCK] and without thinking Jon ducked down from a slap Tommy had swung to hit the back of Jon's head. Startled, Jon stepped to the side, giving Steve a weird look, to which Steve just shrugged back.

“Oh man it looks like the creep has some moves, guess he isn’t a pansy after all. I’ll have to try harder next time-” Tommy was cut off when he stumbled over, Steve having kicked him in the back of the knee. Carol laughed next to them as they walked away.

“Don’t you have anything better to do then pick on a lower classman?” Steve mocked as he pushed Tommy by the shoulder to continue down the hall.

“What? Like sleeping with half the female student body? Does that sound like something better I should do King Steve” Tommy sneered at him. Steve grinned salaciously at Tommy.

“Careful now Hagan, say that a little louder and Carol might think you're jealous,” Steve snickered as he avoided a shove from Tommy. Carol rolled her eyes next to them. ”Like he could, it’s called that Harrington charm not the Hagan charm for a reason.” Carol remarked. Tommy whipped his head to look at Carol.

“You got something you wanna say Carol?” Tommy practically seethed. Carol smiled saccharine sweet. “Just that you should be more thankful you have such a nice girlfriend that puts up with all your shit!” Tommy and Carol continue to argue as their voices faded into white noise for Steve.

In the summer of 1983 Steve sat by the edge of the quarry. Even with Frank and Jared helping the best they could to let him express himself freely, the life of ‘King Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington’ was exhausting. Once again dragged back and forth from being micro-managed down to his every breath, to the aching loneliness of living in that shell of a house by himself for weeks at a time, Steve felt himself worn thin. As Judas Priest blared through his cassette headset Steve wondered if he hated himself. If it was fair to hate himself when the person he hated wasn’t even really him but a plastic imitation.

Steve pulled another drag from his cigarette as he thought back to the party he’d thrown at his house the other night. Just another act in his play to create the image of a rich kid who only had his good looks and physical strength, living in an empty house trying to get his parents attention. It sounded pathetic saying it, Steve felt pathetic doing it. He honestly wished his parents would forget he existed, even if he had to live in that hollow shell alone till he aged out. Some days he wondered if it was really worth it, then he remembered how the first-aid kit in his bathroom had been seeing less and less use and realized he’d rather be miserable than have brain damage from taking too many hits to the head. Steve closed his eyes and just felt the wind on his face and let his thoughts fade out as Judas Priest occupied his brain space.

In the distance Steve heard a car approaching. Cresting the top of the hill was a police cruiser, and out stepped one Chief Jim Hopper. Steve huffed and turned back to the view off the quarry. Hopper was an interesting guy, an annoying bugger too, but seemed to have good intentions. In the past Hopper had asked him a few too many questions about where his injuries had come from and ended up pretty much stone walled at every turn to process a case. After that Hopper would occasionally check up on him. He even caught him a couple of times on his way back in from Indianapolis and was unconvincingly under the impression Steve has been visiting his grandmother frequently. In the past few months as Steve had started throwing parties, Hopper was often the one who went when a noise complaint forced him to break them up. Steve thought that Hopper was under the impression Steve was going through a rebellious phase that was really just a cry for help and attention, which in all honestly wasn’t far from the truth and was exactly what Steve was trying to portray. It was still annoying when Hop would flash him with his gruff but earnest eyes and ask him what he was doing, causing trouble all the time. It made Steve feel seen, even if Hop had the wrong idea. He wanted to both push Hop away and keep him close at the same time, which just frustrated Steve, and made it hard to keep his act up around him.

Hopper slowly made his way up the quarry and settled himself on a rock a good ways away.

“T’s pretty late out.” Hopper started with no preamble. Steve scoffed and took a drag from his cig. Hop took out a pack of his own and lit one, his own smoke joining Steve’s in the night breeze. Hopper sighs out a long cloud of smoke.

“What are you doing out here kid?” Hop asked, always such a straightforward guy. Steve chuckled at his tactless delivery. Steve looked over at Hopper, Judas Priest still blaring through his headset, now around his neck the chorus of Judas Priests Heading Out to the Highway disappearing into the wind.

“Do you ever wish you could go somewhere far away and never come back?” Steve asked Hopper. He didn’t really expect an answer but Hop answered him nonetheless.

“Yeah kid, I used to wish that all the time.” Hopper took another puff of his cig. “When my daughter passed-” Steve’s eyes widened. “-everything I saw reminded me of her. It made me want to run far away and never come back. And I did, for a while. Just packed up all my stuff and switched to an office in Greenwood. Having time to be away helped me to cope with that grief, and although I will never stop missing her, seeing her in photos doesn’t hurt like it used to.” Steve thought of his Nana and the recipe book.

“What if it doesn’t work? What if you go to the other side of the world and it’s all just the same? No matter where you go it just follows you? What do you do then?” Steve asked Hopper desperately. Hopper sighed into the dark night sky.

“That kid, is a question I don’t have an answer to.” Hopper looked over and made eye contact with Steve, “But I can say that the most important thing, and something you can do now, is survive long enough to find that answer.” Steve let out a shuddering breath as he looked out at the quarry. Hopper shifted a bit where he was seated.

“You mind coming away from the ledge kid? Let me get you something to eat and I’ll drive you home.” Hopper suggested. Steve dug his fingers into the ground and stared into the quarry for another few moments before he scooted back and took his legs off from where they were hanging off the side. Steve stood slowly, making sure not to stumble so close to the edge, and made his way down to Hopper who was standing now. When Steve reached him Hopper telegraphed his hand, put it on his shoulder and squeezed firmly.

“Come on kid, I know a good diner that’s open 24/7. I’m sure teenagers like yourself know all about it.” Steve huffed out a laugh as Hopper guided him to his car, watching Steve get in the passenger seat before following suit on the other side and backing out down the dirt road to the main street.

At the start of Junior year King Steve had become more of an idea than a person. The popular kids looked for a way to become him, the outcasts quietly scorned him, every girl had something to say about his looks or how he was in bed, and everyone else fell somewhere on that scale.

Set up to be the swim captain this year Steve hoped for another year to pass by uneventfully.