I N N O C E N C E - Steve Harrington

"You didn't tell me you were doing target practice tonight," he says quietly.

"Didn't know we needed permission," Jonathan mutters.

Willow steps between them before sparks can hit dry grass.

"Stop. Both of you." Her voice is sharp enough to cut.

But Steve just keeps staring at her-hurt, confused, angry.
"You could've called me," he says. "I would've come. I just- I worry about you, okay?"

She looks at the ground. "I didn't want to make things confusing."

"It's already confusing," he says, voice breaking.

Jonathan stiffens beside her, jaw flexing.

The woods go silent.

A branch snaps somewhere far off-too heavy to be wind, too deliberate to be an animal. But none of them move.

Not yet.

"Willow," Jonathan murmurs, "you don't owe him anything."

"That's not fair," Steve snaps. "She doesn't owe you everything either."

The words hit her like a punch.

She steps back from both of them. "I'm not... choosing right now. Either of you. I can't."

Steve looks gutted. Jonathan looks like he expected this.

Before she can say more, the air shifts-cold, wrong, familiar.

A low growl trembles through the trees.

Jonathan reaches for the rifle.
Steve moves in front of Willow without thinking.
And Willow feels her pulse rise, her weapon humming against her leg as if the monsters recognize her too well.