Chapter 54: It's Me. Hi. I'm The Problem. It's me.

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A/N: Sooooo, I've been sick, which is why updates have been so far and few this month. Since this will be the last chapter upload before the new year (JUST TO CLARIFY, NOT THE FINAL CHAPTER EVER. THERE'S STILL SO MUCH MORE THAT NEEDS TO BE WRITTEN. I'LL BE BACK IN JANUARY), I'd like to wish you all a safe, peaceful 2023. May the year treat you with kindness and you enjoy many moments of happiness.

Thank you as always, for continuing to read this book. It's been an honour to write for you. I hope you enjoy this latest instalment.

*****

The first thing Steve Harrington noted about the day, was that it had rained overnight. The lawn was freshly saturated and drowning in a pool of water too big to call a puddle but too small to be considered a lake. Just looking at the liquid inconvenience, Steve already predicated that, he sneakers were going to get ruined on his way to open the car door.

And he had been right. One pair of soggy shoes later and with Robin carpooling with him, the duo were off to spend their Saturday trapped behind the help desk at the video store, helping ungrateful customers make their entertainment selections.

It was during the drive that, the heavens opened up and a downpour cascaded down in viewed sheets of raindrops, that threatened to soak the pair, as soon as they left the safe confines of the vehicle. Steve was really starting to dislike the rain. In fact, he was starting to dislike Hawkins in its entirety. It was too wet, too cold, too dull like the overcast clouds that smothered any hope of sunshine. What the brunet would not have done to felt the warmth of rays that day.

Something subdued played over the airwaves, adding to the overall deary mood. Over the rhythmic pitter patter of raindrops against the windshield, it was difficult to comprehend the singer's words or fully hear the melody. Steve occasionally caught snippets- a guitar strum here and a morose lyric there. Man, The Smiths really needed to lighten up. At least, he assumed it was The Smiths. It would be very in keeping of Morrisey to play during a miserable morning.

"Your shoes squeak every time you press the pedal." Robin commented, her gaze never breaking from her fixed view outside the window. Whatever she was looking at, it must have been far more interesting than bothering to cast a glance at Steve and his eye roll.

With a scoff, Steve paused in his reply to make a right turn. That had been the first time Robin had really said more than a tired 'hey' in greeting, when she had slipped into the shotgun seat. Usually, she was a non-stop chatterbox but something had obviously drained her of her usual spark. If Steve had had to guess, he probably would have guessed that her parents were the cause for her low mood, as was usually the case. He did not pry, knowing she would tell him, when she was ready. "Yeah, well, blame the moat in front of the trailer this morning." the brunet grumbled, slowing the car at a stop sign before indicating to turn left.

"Maybe you should invest in some boots like Eddie did." at the mention of the absent metal head, Steve instantaneously felt covetous for the undoubtedly clear skies in California. Sun, sand and surf on the golden coast- what a far cry from the grey landscape beyond the surrounding pines.

The morning slipped into midday. Lunch was an uneventful ham sandwich and a can of soda, which Steve shared with Robin, who had neglected to bring anything but strawberry shoelaces as her snack. The sweets were chewed on throughout the afternoon, between advising customers and restocking the shelves of their returned VHS tapes. Nothing eventful occured for the rest of his shift.

When he finally made it home all those hours later, Steve had been surprised to find the trailer lights on and Wayne still at home, having assumed that the older man would be working a night shift.

"Ah, I'm not being called in tonight. I'm working a double tomorrow now instead." Uncle Wayne explained, as he retrieved two beers from the fridge, handing one to Steve, who gladly took a sip. The cool liquid was every bit as refreshing and restorative as he had hoped it would be. "I was going to rustle up something for dinner, you hungry?"

"Why don't you sit down? I can cook."

While the video store employee was no chef, he was at least competent enough to be able to rustle up a basic spaghetti with tomato-based sauce. It was a dish he had learnt for Home Economics 101 and made regularly, when his parents had been out of town on business. It was either learn to make a simple pasta dish or somehow survive on the ten dollars they would leave for him on the counter to buy a pizza- as if one pizza could have lasted him the duration of their trips away.

It had to be said that, Mr and Mrs Harrington were not bad people and when they put their minds to it, they were also not bad parents. They had what Steve liked to call Amnesic Parenting. The two adults just often forgot that they had a kid but when they remembered, they were the most attentive and loving parents anyone could ask for. It was just a shame that they rarely recalled Steve's existence. The older he was getting, the more he was fading from their memory.

Dinner was eaten in front of the television, something his own Mother would not have approved of, which made Steve love doing it all the more. The two men ate in relative quiet, save for the murmuring of the characters on the screen. It was not a show either recognised but entertainment was entertainment and it beat listening to the storm raging beyond the confines of the rickety trailer.

The beer had risen in temperature since his first sip, Steve thought and he took a gulp between mouthfuls of pasta. It was not yet unpalatable and at least it quenched his thirst.

Evenings such as this one were his favourites. There was an undeniable peace that had come into his life, since moving out of the family home. Life at the trailer was certainly quieter, now that Eddie had relocated to California, which was surprisingly both a blessing and a curse. Steve would never admit it but sometimes, he caught himself missing the metal head's presence. They were not exactly friends but there had been a reassuring constant by having Hurricane Eddie causing chaos in his life. The brunet also knew he could never be a replacement for Wayne's nephew but the older man had welcomed Steve into the family without too many questions. For the first time in his life, Steve actually felt as if he had a supportive guardian.

When the phone attached to the kitchen wall sounded, both the men jolted in surprise. The shrill tone was not often heard echoing throughout the home. The only people to call were Wayne's employers and occasionally Nancy Wheeler. If anyone ever needed Steve, they just summoned him via walkie talkie or sent Max to retrieve him. Discarding his bowl to one side on the coffee table, Steve mumbled an "I'll get it". When he picked up the receiver and voiced a generic greeting, the brunet had not expected to hear his name repeated in that familar tone.

"Steve?" you questioned, wondering why he was at the trailer. You had been hoping to speak to Eddie but hearing Steve was a welcomed surprise. It had been too long since you had spoken. You felt the tell tale pull of yearning on your heart, when you realised just how much you had missed your friends.

"Y/N?" he breathed life into your name, unable to quite believe that you had finally broken your radio silence. "It's so good to hear from you. How come you're calling, is everything okay?" 

The alarm in Steve's voice made you regret not calling sooner. Of course he would think something was wrong. "I'm okay, Stevie. I promise. I, uh," you hesitated but pushed through your nervousness. You had made it this far, there was no point backing out now. "I was hoping to speak to Eddie."

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