Stonathan ❤️

8

NOT MINE!!
ALL CREDIT GOES TO: NeroAnne on ao3

a/n : My Wattpad is acting weird 😡

-1698 Hawkins; Indiana-

“How could I have gotten lost?” He murmured to himself as he looked around the woods. There he was, Steven James Harrington, son of the magistrate Andrew Steven Harrington, lost in the woods of their small little town on a chilly February morning with storm-clouds quickly drowning out the blue sky.

All because he had woken from a dream in which a soft voice beckoned him into the very same woods and curiosity had gotten the better of him.

It was laughable, really.

Steven pursed his lips, already hearing the giggles amongst his friends when they heard news of him running wild. Thomas would be most amused and William Hargrove would probably even start a scuffle over-

A snapping twig in the otherwise silent woods had him spinning around in surprise. When he had entered this deeply into the area, he had found it quite interesting that it lacked the usual sound of fauna. There had been no birds singing, no insects chattering, even the wind had been still.

“H-hello?” he called out, the invisible air around him suddenly feeling warmer that before. He toyed with the sleeve of his pristine linen shirt, eyes darting about nervously. They settled on a bush, and his eyes grew wide as the leaves began to dance.

Doe-like brown eyes peeked out at him, and Steven relaxed, a slow smile gracing his lips.

“Hi!” he waved, “Hello, yes, I seem to have lost my way. Would you be most kind as to point me to-” he trailed off as the little boy crawled out from underneath the bush.

He was so small, couldn’t have been more than 12 years old. His eyes were large and his smile was kind.

“You…are barely more than a child,” Steven said, his own smile confused, “What are you doing out here all on your own?”

“I’m Will,” the boy said, picking a twig out of his stained shirt, “And these woods belong to my family.”

Steven blinked. He stared at the youngsters clothing. They certainly didn’t scream of wealth, not even the slightest. His hair was unruly, his structure thin and underfed, could it be that he really came from a family that could own the woods?

“Well,” Steven began, unsure, “My name is Steven Harrington. I’m the son of magistrate Andrew Harrington.”

Recognition reflected in those brown eyes and Will’s smile dropped. His gaze turned weary. “You had better go then.” He turned away and Steven quickly cried out.

“But I do not know the way!” he glanced above them as the sky roared, “It…it will start to storm soon. Might I come with you to seek shelter?”

The little boy hesitated, glancing back at him.

Steven waited with baited breath, jumping as the thunder hedged closer.

Will’s shoulders dropped, “Okay,” he said, waving him over, “Let’s go.”

--

They had walked deeper into the woods.

Along the way, Steven questioned Will about his lineage.

“What is your family name?” he had asked but Will had not given it, instead choosing to hum along as they walked.

“Is your father a reverend?” that question had elicited an amused snort, but no reply.

It was just as the rain began to sprinkle down that they came upon a log cabin, hidden away in the bush of the woods. Steven eyed it, a brow raised. Surely, this couldn’t be the home of the family who owned the woods.