❝ you walk hand in hand with the
omen of death, don't you, harrington?
but, somehow, you're the only one
i can't run away from. ❞
→ 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 she claims to hate him, but fate decided to prove her wrong.
or two teens who think they're nothi...
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THE MAY SUNSET PAINTED EVERYTHING ATOP THE SQUAWK IN GOLD, creating a breathtaking late afternoon steeped in nostalgia and tranquility where only a warm breeze slipped through their hair. However, the presence of Rory, Steve, Robin, Nancy, and Jon—finally together in 1989, sitting in folding chairs arranged in an improvised circle—turned the atmosphere into a blend of camaraderie and melancholy.
After having watched the kids—now stepping into adulthood—graduate from high school earlier that day, they shared drinks calmly, talking about their college experiences and the challenges of adult life.
Robin, holding a red cup, turned to Harrington, impeccably dressed in his dark gray velvet suit, and teased him amid relaxed laughter. "So, Steve, are you tired of Chicago yet?"
"Honestly, no. I think the moms really like me teaching their kids P.E." His girlfriend rolled her eyes playfully. "However, and thankfully, Rory and I will be moving to a quieter neighborhood soon, so we can finally sleep through the night in peace." He let his gaze drift toward the horizon, absently toying with the beer bottle in his hand.
"Oh, are we? That's news to me." Rory, seated between her boyfriend and Buckley leaned forward, lifting her back from the chair and drawing laughter from the others.
"Of course we are. Otherwise I'm just going to start missing Hawkins more and more." He stood up in a tired stretch. "I mean, look at this place. The sunset, the view." He spread his arms dramatically, walking in a small circle. He let out a shout, and his voice echoed for a few seconds, reverberating across the surroundings and the distant, dense dark trees. Hawkins was undoubtedly his third greatest love. Rory smiled at the thought. "You guys are telling me you don't miss any of this?"
Dressed in neutral, semi-formal clothes, both Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers let out unconvincing nos, while Robin Buckley offered a timid one.
"The forest, the quarry, Family Video, the Hawk, Lover's Lake?" He gestured energetically as if his hands were extensions of his words, emphasizing each place with restrained passion.
"I do," Rory said, raising her beer.
"Thank you, babe!" He seemed pleased to have someone agree with him.
"I mean, sometimes." The others were amused by the way Steve's lips tightened when Rory changed her tune. "I'd miss it more if you were here. But since I kidnapped you to Chicago, all I have left from this place are memories. Both good and bad."
"Actually, I heard there's a cool place in Forest Hill." Steve Harrington stepped closer to crack open another beer. "Based on my calculations of our savings, Rory, we can afford to buy it." He sat back down on the cooler and let out a tired sigh. "It's not like those tiny suburban houses in Chicago. It's a full-on mansion with a yard and direct, private access to Lover's Lake. Buying a house here is way cheaper."
