𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Two
Chrissy Cunningham

tw: self harm mentions

"I'm sorry- I know it's late, but I'm sorry-" Steve had her enveloped in a hug the minute the door opened, backing her into her house and closing the door behind him with his foot. "I know you hate my guts, and you don't wanna see me ever again, but I need you to know I'm sorry."

Her scent engulfed him immediately, the sound of some shitty movie from the 60s playing in the back. Steve had his fingers tangled in Ramona's hair, pressing her face into his chest. His other hand rubbed her back gently, fingers gripping the fabric of the shirt she wore. Only when he pulled away, which he hadn't yet, would he realize it was one of his. "Fuck, baby.. I'm sorry.. I-I was shitty to you, I said shitty things.. and I'll do anything- anything at all, to make it up to you.. One more chance? Please?"

"Steve.." Ramona pulled from the hug, looking up at him. His eyes were red and puffy, he'd clearly been crying. Maybe even for the two days they hadn't spoken, not even when she stopped in to see Robin at the video shop. It's not that she didn't want to, she was scared. She'd said things she regretted, and she was worried he had gone right back to hating her. Right back to square one, right back to 1984.

Her hand gently rested against his cheek, a ghost of a smile formed on her face as he immediately leaned into her touch. Her thumb brushed against his warm skin, eyes trailing along her features, over every freckle and blemish. "Steve.. we were never broken up.. there's no 'one more chance' to need."

Steve blinked in confusion, furrowing his brows as he searched her face. "Wh-? But- I said all those awful things to you."

"Steve, I forgive you." Ramona said plainly, a smile gracing her face (though it didn't reach her eyes), "You're okay. We are okay."

Her fingers trailed up from his cheek up into his hair and she pulled him down so he was looking her in the eyes. "But never, ever accuse me of using again. Copy that, Harrington?"

"I promise.. Never again. Do you want to talk about it?" Steve mumbled, almost inaudible. Ramona tensed, her breath catching in her throat. The question hung in the air and the silence became deafening. At he lack of response, Steve continued.
"You should, you know... talk about it."

Ramona shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know."

"That's okay," Steve's voice was soft, his words trailing off. This was something he'd never dealt with before, and from Ramona... He felt so stupid for not noticing that something was wrong. He didn't know how to handle it, what to do, how to help. God, he was really starting to feel like he didn't know anything. "You don't have to. Not with me, if you don't want. I-I mean. I could help, I'm your boyfriend. I should help, but-"

"No, you should know." Ramona said, fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. "It was an accident at first, really. A stupid accident. I was chopping up some vegetables for my mom, and- uh- the knife, I don't know, slipped? It slipped. And-and I was bleeding.. and."

Ramona's voice grew shaky as tears formed in her eyes. Steve stayed silent, watching the woman he loved begin to crumble in front of him. He'd rarely seen Ramona like this, and never had he seen her like this before Starcourt with the Russians.

He blamed himself, if he'd never convinced her to get a job in the mall she wouldn't have been there in the first place.

That was bullshit, though. Ramona would have still been there. She was the smartest girl he knew, along with Robin, he would've gone to her for help anyway. Or Dustin would have. There was no keeping her out of it.. and without it, there was no them. Without the Russians, Steve and Ramona would still be friends. Just friends. He never would have worked up the courage to say something, and Ramona would have still been denying her feelings.