STEVE

"STEVE'S DOING WELL, ARE YOU?" Delilah Harrington asked gently, reaching over the pastry tower to place her hand over his own.

"Delia, it isn't concerning whether or not he's doing well right now, what matters is his wellbeing in ten years," Conrad Harrington said in his smug-ass voice.

His flight had been delayed, so they were having tea on Christmas Eve instead of a few days before. Which was a problem, because One: it was Steve's dad that was coming. And Two: that Steve and his mom couldn't go to China Blossom as tradition on December 24th.

"I'm doing good," Steve said shortly, which was partially true and partially that he wanted to piss his dad off even a little bit.

"That's great," Conrad defended, leaning back in his armchair. He'd taken the chair at the end of the table, as if reclaiming his position as head of their household. It wasn't like that seat had been filled by anyone for thirteen years, but the effect of that superiority he held was only amplified. And Steve hated it.

"Yes, Steve has plenty of friends at school," Delilah added excitedly, looking at her husband with admiring eyes. "Carol Hagan, Tommy Perkins, and a lot more,"

Steve took a swig of his tea, not bothering to correct his mom. Besides, he, Tommy, and Carol weren't friends anymore.

"That's good. Build up those connections, son. They'll be valuable in your work future. And Carol Hagan? Is that a kid of Charles's?" Conrad stabbed an olive with a toothpick, Steve narrowing his eyes on the way nearly half of the wood was poked into the olive, a bit of himself wishing the olive was Conrad's eye.

"I believe so," Delilah said with wide eyes. "Is she, Steve?"

"Yep," Steve said uninterestedly. Except his Dad caught on to his boredness, and targeted his attention on him instead of his wife.

"Got a girlfriend, Steven?" he asked. Boy, that man liked olives.

"Nope,"

"Oh?" his mother interjected. "I thought you were with Nancy Wheeler?"

"Yeah. Uh, we broke up,"

"Good!" Conrad bellowed, his straight posture a contrast to Steve's slouch. "High school relationships never last; but they're a valuable opportunity to build experience for your future lovers,"

Opportunity. What wasn't a fucking opportunity to him?

"Well, Nancy was very lovable," Delilah frowned. "Did you wish her a Happy Christmas, at least?"

"Mom," Steve said, looking up pointedly. "We're broken up,"

"Okay, okay," Delilah said defensively, turning back to her mini sponge cake.

"Actually," A rise of anger prompted the statement that Steve knew he'd regret saying later. "I do have a girlfriend. Or- someone I like,"

"Pray tell?" Delilah said eagerly while Conrad watched with vague interest.

"Uh," Steve said. "Katie Wheeler- Kathryn. She's great,"

"Nancy's relative?" Delilah asked, suprised.

"Ted's kid?" Conrad asked at the same time.

"Um, yeah. I- uh, think she's better for me, y'know," Steve said, already regretting bringing Katie up.

"Good luck, Steven," Conrad said, impressed. "Ted Wheeler's a good man; maybe you'll have better luck with the other sister,"

A spark of anger ignited into a patch of flame inside Steve's stomach. Katie wasn't like Nancy, he was over Nancy. And it pissed him off at the comparison.

"Um, how's college applications going, Steve?" Delilah changed the subject, noticing his discomfort.

"Good," Steve said, reaching for the fruit bowl.

"You're going for Indiana Tech, aren't you?" Conrad asked.

"Mhm," Steve mumbled, deciding not to mention that his grades weren't even in the pool they wanted.

"Good. With your legacy, you've got a pretty big chance," Delilah said, her energy slicing jaggedly through the tension.

"Christ," Conrad chuckled lowly. "Just yesterday he was a toddler crawling backwards and now he's applying for colleges. For a small town, things certainly move fast,"

His mom had made Steve wear a dress shirt to tea, which was hideously uncomfortable and made Steve's neck itch. He longed for the taste of crispy fried rice and soup dumplings as carols played from the Coleman's next door. While everyone celebrated Christmas, the family of two, now three, had to sit in a stuffy dining room for tea. The Jewish dream, right there. Steve imagined himself sitting in a red cushioned booth, dinner in front of him, petting the Xie family's corgi as Katie sat across from him in her fuzzy shawl.

"-Yes, things are more tense now with the Holland girl's death," Delilah said grimly.

"What's the Hawkins gov even doing?" Conrad scoffed. "Letting kids die off, go missing, it's their responsibility,"

He'd have a harsh reality check if he knew that government was terrorizing those kids and interdimensional demodogs were attacking. Steve shoved a whole strawberry into his mouth, chewing it slowly and taking a good four gulps to swallow it down. Maybe he was thinking irrationally, but his hatred for the man sitting to his right blinded him.

Their tea went on for another hour and thirteen minutes, and Steve didn't feel like he ate anything. And when his parents finally retired to their room, Steve felt hungry as hell. He still wanted Chinese food. Fuck it. He scribbled a note on a piece of scrap paper, tore off his itchy dress shirt, pulled on a sweater and almost skipped out the door. 

Trying to be inconspicuous, he made stealthy footprints in the inch of snow, approaching his car. He quickly got in, turning the engine on.

"So then I was like; why I can't I be myself for once?" Iris Xie said, sucking on a tanghulu.

Steve had indeed gone to China Blossom and ordered soup dumplings and crispy fried rice. After giving their corgi a few pats, he'd settled in his usual booth, the Xie family's seven-year-old daughter next to him chatting away.

"Exactly, they didn't have a right to tell you that," Steve said.

"Right?" Iris looked at him enigmatically. "He's so dumb. All boys are dumb,"

"Uh- I'm a boy," Steve said, pointing bluntly at himself. 

"No, you're too old to be a boy," Iris said stubbornly, biting a hawthorn straight off and chewing the sweet sour fruit.

"Geez. Harsh," Steve sighed. 

"Iris! Stop procrastinating!" Dr. Xie called from the counter, waving Iris over. 

"I gotta go to work now," Iris rolled her eyes, hopping out of the booth. "Merry Christmas. If you celebrate,"

"Thanks," Steve replied, though he didn't celebrate. He looked at Iris trudging over to her father, who gave her a pat on the back. He felt miserable. The very person he'd villanized for so long was now living with him. The idea stirred sandstorms in his chest, the dust almost choking him in disgust. How could his mom love someone like that?

You're too old to be a boy. He knew Iris didn't mean it like that, but the phrase resonated with him far worse than anyone's words could on a day to day basis. He wished for the days when it was a comfortable chill in autumn, playing in the crunchy golden leaves in his backyard. A year ago he'd been running with who he thought was the girl of his dreams, playing pretend with the popular kids. And now he'd fought demogorgons, was going to college, and pining for a different girl with a heart of ice and a voice only sung in hymns. 

Katie's embrace had a delicate mix of darkness, shades of grey and blue swirling around in her heart and eyes. On the other hand, Steve's eyes had a sickly yellow-gold that soured through his own skin, piercing through his skull and rendering him hopeless. Yet when he was around her, her haunting chilliness and echoed birdsong gave life to his withering sun, and pulled him from the scorching blaze that was his core. Someday, someday he'd crash and burn. And Kathryn Wheeler would watch as it happened.

"Steve?" 

Speak of the devil. Steve whirled around, his misery silverlined with euphoria. Katie wore the same white furry shawl that she wore last week on the playground. She had makeup again from her family's Christmas dinner, a red lip a contrast to her otherwise pale outfit. Yet her lips were a mere smear of of a stain, a few droplets of blood against the white silhouette of an angel. Maybe she wouldn't watch as he burned. There was only one way to find out.

"Katie," he grinned at the sight of her, the epitome of a White Christmas, a winter he could only attempt to thrive in. Yet her cold was like an ice pack on a flaming hot bruise, easing the volcanic cracks in his skin, slashes from years of pent-up anger and pain. 

"Hi," she whispered, and sat down across from him, a smile written on her features.

━━author's note ━━

pretty short chapter, but it really explores steve's pov again and his personal standpoint on his and kat's relationship.

this is also the last chapter in act one; next chapter we're moving to season three!