"Where's your first-aid kit?" Steve asks quietly.
"You're assuming we have one?" Angie tries to laugh, but it turns into a sharp wince that makes her hand press against her ribs. "Pretty sure one of those's broken."
"I've seen your brother get into enough fights with the other athletes," Steve mutters, glancing around the bathroom. "You've gotta have one somewhere."
She lifts her arm and points weakly beneath the sink. "Bottom shelf."
Steve crouches, pushing a few bottles aside until he finds a clear container stuffed with bandages and antiseptic.
He sets it on the counter, glancing up at her face— at the bruises spreading like ink across her cheek and jaw.
The sight makes guilt twist in his gut.
Angie notices the look in his eyes immediately, and for once, she doesn't meet it.
She stares at the tile floor instead.
"This is probably gonna—"
"Sting?" she finishes for him, a small, humorless grin twitching at her lips. "Yeah, I know. I'm the one who patched up my brother after all his fights."
Steve hesitates, watching her expression tighten.
"You don't have to say anything," she adds before he can speak. "I probably deserved all this." She gestures at the bruises on her face and arms.
"Hey," Steve murmurs, lifting her chin with gentle fingers until her eyes meet his. "Nobody deserves this. Not even—"
"The freak," she says flatly, finishing for him again.
She removes his hand, though softer this time.
He exhales, trying to ignore how much that word stings coming from her.
"I was gonna say sarcastic asshat," he says with a small grin.
A faint laugh escapes her before she can stop it.
It's quick— fleeting— but it's enough to ease the tension.
Steve holds onto that flicker like it's something fragile and rare.
"Yeah, well," she mutters, "maybe the sarcastic asshat did deserve it."
He doesn't answer, just focuses on dabbing disinfectant onto her cheekbone.
She flinches, breath hissing through her teeth, but doesn't pull away.
He works carefully, his hand trembling against the counter between each motion.
Every few seconds, he catches himself gripping the edge until his knuckles go white.
Angie notices— how nervous he is, how hard he's trying not to show it— but she doesn't say a word.
The silence feels thick until she breaks it.
"Is it true?" she asks suddenly.
He looks up. "What?"
"What you said about Nancy."
The question catches him off guard. "Uh—"
"Sorry," she cuts in quickly. "I just... I know you still love her. Even if—"
"I do," Steve admits softly. "I think I always will. But not like before." He sighs, the confession spilling out slower now. "She's better off with Byers. He keeps her safe. Happy. More than I ever did. So I guess I've just... accepted that. Holding onto something that's gone doesn't do anyone any good."
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Angelica "Freak Two" Munson
Fanfiction"Hey, Harrington!" she reverses against her heel, flipping him the bird, "The names Freak Two, actually. If you're gonna insult me, you might as well do it right." ---------- Angelica Beatrice Munson, aka "Freak Two" is Eddie Munson's younger sister...
