𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘢𝘵𝘴 ~ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Three

Ramona barely had time to scribble down a sloppily written note to her mother before she was being dragged out of her front door by Dustin.

"Ramona, we don't have time for this." Dustin said, voice dripping with impatience. Ramona waved him off, muttering to herself in Spanish as she pulled the key from her house door.

"Dusty, your charming attitude was cute at first. Cut it out." Ramona scolded, flicking the rim of his hat.

"Ha-Ha-Ha." Dustin smiled sarcastically, clapping after each word to punctuate it.

"Guys." Max interrupted uncomfortably, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Can we just go?"

"Sorry, Max." Dustin was quick with his response, motioning for Ramona to grab her bike and join them. "Remind me why you don't have a license?"

"I'm broke." Ramona shrugged, "Steve is my personal driver anyway."

Dustin scrunched his nose up, murmuring to himself  incomprehensibly. "Steve wouldn't be my personal driver."

"Aw... cry." Ramona fake pouted, "Maybe take Steve out on a date and he would. He likes Mexican-"

"Clearly." Max mumbled, stifling a laugh as she glanced over at Ramona. Ramona snorted, tossing her head back. Laughter flooded the air as she struggled to mount the bike, laughter rendering her immobile. Dustin stood dumbfounded, mouth hanging open in shock and likely annoyance.

"Whatever- Okay- Can we just get to Steve?"

~~

"Wha- Hey! Guys!" Steve whined as Max and Dustin slid over the counter, knocking over his tapes. "My tapes!"

"Hey!" Robin threw her hands up in annoyance.

"Sorry," Ramona smiled sheepishly, grunting as she lifted herself up and over the counter. Steve cracked a smile as she dusted herself off. "We- Max, Max has stuff to tell you."

Steve took note of the sweat dripping from Ramona's forehead, along with the baggy sweatshirt she wore. Ramona smiled gently at him, her head tilting to the side.

I'm okay she mouthed, brushing the stray hair from her eyes. Steve wanted to believe her, he really wanted to believe her. He wished that he could, but after their shared experiences, he knew Ramona better than he knew anyone else. Himself included.

He knew her tells.. Or, he thought he did. Maybe he didn't. Ramona knew him, though. Ramona new knew him so deeply, she knew every freckle on his body and even what the slightest twitch in his body meant.

"Steve, Steve, Steve." Ramona repeated, moving so she was resting on her knees so that she was taller than Steve, blankets bunched up around her body. She scooted closer to him carefully, gently taking his face into her hands and forcing her to look into her eyes. "Hey, sh. Steve, baby. Sh. It's just me, we're in my room. We're in my room, in my house. We got out of that elevator two weeks ago. Okay? This is my house."

"Wha- I don't- They were- We were dead. We were all.." Steve struggled to form words, fingers digging into her hips, gripping the fabric of her shirt as he frantically looked around the room. "You- I couldn't- Dustin and- And Dustin and Robin- You-"

Sweat dripped from his forehead, eyes wide in panic, his voice was hoarse and his palms were clammy. Steve's blood was cold, he was freezing. Freezing and hot, all at once. His mind felt fuzzy, thoughts distant. Almost as if they weren't his own thoughts, as if they were someone else's and he was simply a passerby.