Surrender : Book Two // Steve Harrington X Reader

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄

"What do you mean?" Steve was frowning, jaw tense as he halts at the gate to the Creel House. Your words, the affirmation Henry knew you were here, caused concern to bloom on your husbands visage. 

"Exactly what I said." You snap, but only because fear was overcoming you. He flinches and you soften, reaching for his hand which he offers willingly. "I could hear him just now. Talking to me in my head; like he used to."

The Adam's apple in Steve's throat bobs with a thick swallow, hazel eyes averting your leveled gaze. He looks to the floor, then your joined hands, and then up at the house. The boarded up window to the attic still had a large gaping wound in it from where you and Henry had fallen from it all those years ago.

You thought you were dead at that moment. You'd been ready to die, in fact.

But now that you hadn't, now that you had more than your own life at risk, there was no way you were ready for that. Your kids needed their mother and their father. It wasn't just yourself you had to worry about anymore. 

Steve sighs, finding your gaze once more and holding it this time. "So? If he moves again, Ben will tell us. We'll catch up to them eventually." He seemed so certain yet doubt was blooming in your gut like a weak and wilted flower slowly finding its vitality. "What if it's too late, Steve? I don't know how much longer we have until Eleven closes the gate. If Henry keeps moving-"

"Hey, hey... " He cuts you off, gently cupping your cheeks and resting his forehead to your own. His breath was dancing over your lips, the edge of his nose bumping your own. He looked so much older than the last time you were both here and yet, in his trepidation, he was that scared teenager all over again. "We're gonna get him, okay? We can't be too far behind... But standing here worrying about 'what if's' isn't going to make us find him any faster, hm?"

You nod weakly because he's right. His assurance and gentle, loving support was something you were eternally grateful for. You wanted to come here alone so as not to put him at risk, and yet you didn't quite know what you would have done without him.

You were a team. The best damn team in the world.

"Come on." He presses his lips to yours once, and then again but quicker, before he takes your hand in his and edges towards the house. 

It towers above you, creaking and groaning as if it were sentient and unwilling to let you enter. 

You do so anyway, Steve pushing through the stained-glass door into the dank and dark entryway. The stairs looked chapped and rotten and you were half wondering if it was even a good idea to be here. 

The entire place was a health hazard thanks to the passing years.

The air smelled like stagnant dust and decay, ash flitting through the room from an unknown source. Your lungs were mostly accustomed to the air here from your years in captivity, but you could tell Steve struggled every so often. He coughed and spluttered when it got too much and though you'd urged him to cover his face to filter the air, he'd refused, claiming he was fine. 

The house was pretty much the same except for the excelled disrepair it experienced. You wondered if Henry had been here the whole time, healing and gaining his strength again. Why he'd wanted to spend so much time here anyway when he claimed to despise his family so very much.

You take the stairs, making sure to hold onto the railing in case they break, while Steve investigates downstairs.

"Be careful, sweetheart. Holler if you need me." He calls up after you and your heart swells at the gesture. In all the chaos of the last few days, you hadn't been the most loving of wives. But he knew. He knew how much you adored everything about him and it gave you a small shred of solace to know he felt the same.