Surrender // Steve Harrington x Reader

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

The shower had been a tonic to your skin that you hadn't thought you'd needed until you'd stepped under the steady flow of heated water. You scrub yourself with the bar of soap, watching it turn from white to brown as it fought through the brittle dirt clinging to your flesh.

It takes a while but eventually the suds run clear, your skin the same state which leaves you with a satisfied smile on your lips. When you dip your head under the water, the liquid sinks into your hair and makes it heavy and dense with wetness as you wash it. 

For the longest while, you didn't want to leave. In some strange way, the shower felt so peaceful and safe, but you think that was the affect of the warmth and the running water rather than anything else. 

In here it was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the water as it streamed from the shower head. You didn't have to think about anything other than ridding your skin of its extra layers of dirt. 

When you're finished, you turn off the faucet and step free of the curtain which tries to cling to you as you get out, pushing it away from you until it no longer gravitates back. There was a towel rack on the wall beside you and you pull a fluffy white towel from it to wrap around yourself and soak up the excess droplets still stubborn on your flesh. 

You felt better than you had in a while, fed and washed and clean. It had your mind steadied and clear for the first time since you came back and when you go back in the room, dripping carelessly on the carpet, Steve was folding some clothes up onto the bed, trying not to look in your direction.

"They might not fit but they'll do for now, I guess. They're clean at least." He chuckles to himself as you get closer to him, fingertips tightening around the hem of the towel to keep it up. You wordlessly pick up the freshly folded items, unraveling them to get a closer look. A pair of sweatpants, similar to his own though they were black, and a pale blue crew-neck shirt. 

You slip into the sweatpants, not bothering to catch the towel as it falls once the pants were up and seated at your hips. "I-- I can give you some privacy.." Steve stutters out, snapping his eyelids shut once more. You turn your back to make him feel more comfortable as you open up the folded shirt and wrestle yourself into it, telling him as you pull it over yourself, "It's okay. I'm dressed."

"Is that...-" He mumbles as you pull the hem over the bare skin of your back, turning to face him once more though his eyes were glued to your lower torso even after you'd turned around. He takes a deep breath before raising his gaze to you once more, lips set in a hard line. "What did that to you?"

My scars. You remind yourself of their existence and how abnormal they must have seemed along your back. You were accustomed to them now, and those others that found home on your skin in the years that followed those first ones clawed into you by what Steve had called a 'demogorgon'. You didn't like that name. It sounded wrong. But at least it was a name for them; something you didn't have prior to this.

Your fingertips reflexively reach over your shoulder, rubbing at the very tip of the scars and feeling over the low bumps of silvery flesh. "The thing that took me." You inform him, tone quiet. The more you told him about yourself, the more that contorted expression of sympathy would cloud his features and it made you feel so unbelievably weak. Like to him you were this fragile thing, where the scars should have shown just how strong you really were.

They showed that you survived, not just that you suffered. You weren't ashamed of them, but he was starting to make you feel that way about them. 

"I'm fine. Stop looking at me like that." You say, a little sharper than you probably should have, but you couldn't help yourself. It worked anyway though since he seems to correct himself, swiping a hand over his features as if it would fix them and then plastering a feigned look of ease on his face once it was gone. 

"Sorry." He grumbles, setting his hands on his hips a moment later as he changes the topic. "So, what do you wanna do? My parents are gone for a few days, maybe longer, so you're welcome crash here until we can find something better. If -- If you want, obviously..."

He'd accepted defeat at last, it seemed, noting that you weren't going to be that easy to get rid of. Still, you figured some privacy might be best if you were going to make him spill all his secrets of his little gang to you. 

Not to mention your presence in Hawkins couldn't be revealed until you wanted it to be. Until you were sure nobody would come and take you away to toss you into a cell again, as they had before. 

You refused to be a prisoner again. You'd rather die.

"I do, but..." You begin, lying once more. You didn't want to be here at all. You wanted to go back to Henry, but it was a case of necessity now. You avoid his glance a moment, feigning concern as you look to your feet and then back up at him. "I'm scared that if you tell people about me... That I might get taken away." Adding a slight tremble to your tone was honestly a stroke of genius, his hand rising and falling with the want to comfort you with his touch but knowing it wouldn't be a comfort to you. Good. He was learning at least. "I promise I won't stay long, can I just... Maybe have a while to figure out what to do? I don't want to be taken away, Steve."

Steve laps it up, wasting no time in offering a pitiful reassurance, shaking his head at the very idea of turning you in. "No, I won't tell anyone. You're... Well, you're an adult after all. Nobody needs to know and nobody's looking for you, right?"

"Right."

"Cool. So you can crash here as long as you want." He reassures you, opening his life up to you so easily considering you were nothing more than a stranger. How easy people were to manipulate these days, though you had learned from Henry; who was the best at these things. "My parents can't know you're here though. When they're home, you gotta keep quiet - they shouldn't come in here and bother you and they're hardly ever home but... Can we agree to keep you being here between us?"

"You keep my secret, I keep yours." You confirm, forcing a smile onto your lips that you hope is reassuring to him. He softens at the sight of it, eyes flicking to the curve of your lips before he looks away from you entirely to straighten his sweatshirt. 

"Deal. But if I'm gonna be hiding you here, I think I should probably at least learn your name." His words held an edge of jest to them, though you knew it was to disguise his actual desire of learning your name. Something you'd been holding back from sharing with him since you had no idea what your alias was to be.

You thought about it a few times in quiet moments in the other place. When you were alone, daydreaming of this world and everything it held, how different your life could have turned out had you been a normal girl and not a test subject.

A number. That's all you were.

A flurry of names cross your mind, but one sticks out more than most so you pluck it free and plaster it onto yourself as a title, claiming it as your own, if only for a brief time. "(Y/N). My name is (Y/N)."

Steve takes a fraction of a step closer, his easy smile growing at the declaration as he holds out a hand for you to shake. "Pleasure to meet you officially, (Y/N)."

No it isn't. 

Your fingertips fiddle with the wet bandage clinging to your stinging wound, letting his hand hang there until he drops it to his side once more, avoiding your gaze and instead looking to your fingers as they toy with the sopping fabric hanging loosely from your wound. "Oh, shit you got it wet. I'd better change that and then we can go watch some T.V. if you want?"

You blink up at him, bewilderment clear as day on your features as you frown and cock your head to the side, his words flitting into your ears but not making a lick of sense to you.

"What is T.V?"