𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 // ᵐⁱᵏᵉ ʷʰᵉᵉˡᵉʳ ¹

02

𝟬𝟮
𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗮𝗺𝗻 𝗯𝗶𝗿𝗱𝘀 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻

    𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. The groggy haze that hung over her as she dragged herself out of bed felt like a cruel joke, a daily reminder that the world didn't care about her preference for the quiet solitude of night. She wasn't like Steve, who could bounce out of bed as if he were starring in his own personal commercial, hair already looking like it had been styled for hours. No, Elise had to fight for every ounce of wakefulness, stumbling through her morning routine with half-closed eyes.

    The ride to school was its own form of torture. Steve, still on his "I'm the coolest guy in town" high, blared music loud enough to rattle the car's windows. It was all noise, all too much, too early. Elise stared out the window, watching the suburban landscape blur by, wishing she could be anywhere but there.

    Elise stared out the window of Steve's car as they drove through the dark streets of Hawkins, the world outside a blur of shadowed trees and dimly lit houses. The radio played loudly in the background, but the usual chatter between her and Steve was noticeably absent. She could feel the tension in the air, the kind that had been simmering between them for weeks.

    Steve kept his eyes on the road, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming nervously against the gear shift. The silence stretched on, apart from the loud-ass song, heavy and awkward, until Elise finally spoke up.

    "Do you even know where you're going?" she asked, her tone more biting than she intended.

    Steve shot her a quick glance, his expression a mix of annoyance and concern. "Relax, Ellie. I've been the one driving you to school. I think I know the way."

    Elise rolled her eyes, sinking further into the passenger seat. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

    He let out a sigh, his grip on the wheel tightening. "I'm trying, okay? You're not making it any easier."

    "Making what easier?" Elise shot back, turning to face him. "This isn't about me, Steve. It's about you trying to play the hero all the time. Like I'm some little kid who needs you to hold my hand."

    Steve clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as he pulled up to a stop sign. "I'm not trying to be a hero, Elise. I'm just trying to look out for you. You think I want to do this? You think I enjoy dragging you around when I could be hanging out with my friends?"

    Elise felt a pang of guilt but quickly buried it. "You don't have to, you know. I can take care of myself."

    Steve shook his head, finally turning to look at her. "That's not the point. You're my sister, and whether you like it or not, I'm responsible for you."

    "Responsible for me?" Elise echoed, her voice still flat. "I didn't ask for that, Steve. I don't need you to be responsible for me. I'm not a baby or Nancy." Her face scrunching as she said the Wheeler girl's name.

    Steve let out a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair, before lowering the volume of the radio. "God, Elise, I'm not trying to treat you like a baby. But you don't understand—things are getting weird, and I just... I don't want you getting mixed up in it," he tried, ignoring the part about Nancy.

    Elise frowned, her irritation giving way to confusion. "What are you talking about? What things?"

    Steve hesitated, his eyes flicking back to the road as he resumed driving. "Never mind. It's nothing. Just... stay out of trouble, okay? For once?"