Something Infinite : Steve Harrington x You Series

oo7 • i'll promise, i'll pinky swear

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART SEVEN
I ' L L  P R O M I S E,  I ' L L  P I N K Y  S W E A R

"Not here?"

"C'mon, Steve. Don't make me say it again."

"But, I've tried—"

"It's just not a good time."

"Please, I—"

"Steve."

"Okay. Alright. Just, here," Steve handed over a stuffed bear to Jonathan who took it gently. "It took me til the fair closed, but–" he stopped, realizing Jonathan probably didn't care about the inside joke Steve shared with you, and shook his head.

Jonathan gave Steve a small, hesitant smile, maybe a promise to give it to you, and as he turned to leave Hop appeared in the doorway. Steve's stomach lurched, but the grizzly bear of a man grunted a piss poor noise of reassurance.

"I'm not gonna bite," he grumbled, "C'mere." He clapped a hand on Steve's shoulder and pushed him to the porch swing, leaning against the railing as the boy sat down. "Take it you didn't fix it, huh?" his voice was gravely, but a bit softer than usual and Steve's brows knitted together in frustration.

"Think I made it worse to be honest," the boy confessed, unsure of why he was being honest with the man in front of him. Maybe it was the look of pity on his face.

"Probably," Hop pulled a cigarette out of the pocket over his chest, wedging it in his mouth as he dug around for his lighter. "We all fuck it up at some point, just a matter of how bad you wanna fix it." The man finally found the Bic in his jeans pocket. Lighting the cigarette he took a slow drag and glanced down at Steve, "You wanna fix it, Harrington?"

Steve scoffed, "Well, yeah."

"Okay. Then own up to your shit. Apologize," Hop shot him a stern look before blowing smoke off over his shoulder, and then his expression shifted. Softer somehow. "Look, I know it hasn't been easy for you. Your dad–" he drifted off and shook his head, "–but not everybody knows that, huh?" He raised his brows, prodding Steve forward and the boy nodded before dropping his gaze to his feet. Hop took another drag. "Tommy, Kyle, those shitheads are only gonna keep gettin' you into trouble."

The man stepped forward and grabbed hold of the boy's chin, tilting it roughly from side-to-side, inspecting the now yellowing bruise below his eye, the one on his jaw. Steve didn't pull away, but he felt his chest tighten. Guilt. Regret.

"You keep hangin' around with them–" Hop let Steve's chin go, "–and everyone else is gonna leave."

The boy huffed a sigh, folding over to rest his elbows on his thighs, burying his face into his hands. His voice was muffled when he finally spoke up, "Think I took care of that at the fair."

"Good. Keep it that way," Hop took one more drag, a hasty exhale of smoke, and then ground out the cigarette in the ashtray on the railing. Stepping in toward the boy he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, "You gotta figure yourself out. What you want. Not what your dad wants. Not what Tommy wants. Not even what I want," he let out a bark of a laugh, "Though I'd appreciate you not stealin' my rig again."

Steve pulled his head away from his hands and rolled his eyes.

Hop's expression hardened again. Tough and sure. "I'm serious. About my rig, but more so about all the stuff before that. You try and fit other people's expectations and Steve Harrington ain't gonna exist anymore. Least not the one I know. The one I see with the kids. The one in here," Hop pushed a couple fingers hard into Steve's chest, tapped on his heart, and shook his head. "Figure it out, kid," and with that he went back inside, screen door slapping behind him on the frame leaving Steve alone on the porch to figure it out.