guilty as sin || steve harrington

❛ʜᴇᴀᴠʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴠɪᴇʀ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴛʀʏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴄᴋ ɪᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ.❜
✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦
Artists always use love as a muse, the deeply interwoven and woven vines of two people's hearts. Being able to look at someone and cherish everything about them, regardless of how unsightly and rotted it might be. Loving someone was like the sensation of the sun breaking through parted blinds and warming unblemished skin. But there was something profoundly intimate about hating another person. Noticing every diminutive detail and scrutinizing it with a microscope, memorizing every fold and crease about a person and loathing even the finest crack in their armour. It was beautiful to hate someone. It was the vulnerable feeling of nighttime, the cold creeping in as the sun rested in its grassy bed for the night, and the frigid moon set all the unseen and unspoken truths alight.

Annette Buckley and Steve Harrington. He was arrogant and pompous; she was studious and argumentative. It was written in the stars that they would score one another with conniving cuts of the tongue until the end of time. Or, for Annette, at least until she left this town and never had to see his stupid smile again. Some claim they should've been the high school sweethearts, a love story for the ages of Hawkins! Not for Annette, though; all she saw in him was wasted potential.

That is, until her car breaks down over Christmas break, when the heat of the car felt like a frigid freeze amidst the shared breath of the two-that night haunted her like a nightmare, following her around as a shadow of remembrance.

Until now, in the Spring of 1985, where the story begins.