𝐙𝐄𝐑𝐎 ✮ steve harrington⁴

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 : nobody's daughter

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 4.3k

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐆𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒 dreadfully long, awkwardly silent, and painfully tense. It was so unbearable that Owen spent most of the ride trying to figure a way out of the situation. She first considered flinging herself out of the moving car unannounced. Then, she thought that she would be able to fabricate some story that would require them to pull over long enough for her to call a cab or even make a run for it. The last, most heinous, idea was to overthrow the car in a spur-of-the-moment coup and kick Steve out instead.

For obvious reasons, none of these ideas made it past the brainstorming stage.

Still, Owen couldn't have been more thrilled to make it home. She lugged her own bags inside this time, exclusively tossing out a clipped and indifferent goodbye to Steve before she slammed the passenger door. She was so exhausted, both mentally and physically, that she didn't want him thinking that now was the time to talk things through. She was pretty sure she just needed a few days before she would be ready for... all of that.

Although, the next few days came and Owen still found herself avoiding Steve.

She didn't call, she didn't stop by his house, and she actively avoided even glancing at the Family Video across the street once she was back at work. Owen simply busied herself around the store—reorganizing, restocking, and replaying some of her favorite albums over the sound system.

But even that wasn't enough to keep her mind from trailing away from her, wandering off into its own dreadful, self-sabotaging inner monologue. The most blaring, emotionally wounding of her thoughts mostly revolved around why Steve hadn't reached out to her yet. Owen knew that she was being stupid and she knew that it was especially childish, considering the fact that she hadn't exactly been overwhelming him with communication, but... she couldn't help but wonder what that meant.

Was Steve just giving her some space?

Had he viewed their fight as a break-up and moved on?

Or, worst of all... had he already forgotten about her entirely?

Owen's lower lip had been properly abused with all of this worrying, all ripped and bloodied from her preoccupied teething. As a matter of fact, the phone at work had almost rang all the way to completion before she finally answered in a daze. "Church Street Records, this is Owen speaking. How can I help you?" she rattled off, distractedly.

"Owen! Thank God, it's you," chirped a familiar voice. "Can I ask you for a... small favor?"

Owen blinked the absentminded fog out from her gaze. "Who is this?" she asked with furrowed brows. Her fingers, which had paused in the midst of their meaningless doodles on a notepad, slowly returned to the task at hand.

"Dustin, obviously," the voice snapped, minor offense evident even through the phone. But it miraculously disappeared just in time for the aforementioned favor. "Would you be available to join Hellfire tonight? We're down a member and it's Eddie's final campaign, so we really need a full house–"

Owen had already tuned him out as she began sorting through all of the best excuses she could come up with as an explanation for not being able to attend. Because as much as she loved Dustin and as much as she loved Eddie, she really didn't have it in her to go through a full D&D campaign with them. None of the boys in Hellfire kept moderation in mind when it came to their game, which meant that most club meetings accidentally turned into hours of strategic deliberation and theatrics with no end in sight.