Joe Keery Imagines

In This Together. Always.-Steve Harrington

I played with my hands as the group argued about who would go into the store and who would stay with the stolen van.

"That's enough," I sighed, cutting them off. "We need a lot of supplies. You all will go into the store. I'll stay here with the van. Now, no more arguing. Get in there so we can take this son of a bitch down."

They nodded in agreement and started to gather their things. I caught Steve's eye, making him freeze. Instead of following the others into the store, he walked over to me.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay?" He asked gently.

"Of course," I scoffed. "I think I'll be okay sitting in a stolen van. Just make sure the basketball team doesn't see you."

He started to leave but stopped. He gently reached forward and grabbed my hands.

"If there is any sign of trouble, I want you to honk the horn three times and run," he said under his breath.

"What about you guys?" I asked, making sure I added the others to my question.

"Forget about us."

"But Steve. . ."

"If anything happens, head straight to my house," Steve continued. "You know where the key is to the back door. Run straight there and I will meet you there as soon as I can."

"Steve, stop," I cut him off. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"And I'm not going to let you get hurt," he said instantly. "I mean it, Y/N. The first sign of trouble, get out of here."

"I can't leave you," I whispered.

"I'll always find you."

A tension-filled silence fell between the two of us. I didn't want him to stop looking at me the way he was. But sadly, we were both dragged back to reality.

"Steve, let's go!" Robin yelled from outside the van. Steve cleared his throat as he finally let go of my hands.

"We'll be back as soon as we can," Steve reassured. "Don't go anywhere. Unless. . ."

"The first sign of trouble," I finished for him. He laughed as he started to leave. He turned around and jogged back. I gasped when he leaned in and kissed my cheek.

"I'll be back."

As he finally ran into the store, my stomach refused to calm down. The guilt got too overwhelming as I choked on my sob. I sat in the driver's seat and let my tears fall.

Steve's been my best friend since kindergarten when he stopped Andrew Wilson from pulling my pigtails. In all those years, he never knew the truth. Of course, he knew part of it, but not all. He knew that my parents were killed in a car accident when I was four. He knew that my grandparents moved to Hawkins to take care of me.

What he didn't know was how my grandparents acted behind closed doors. Around other people, they were sweet grandparents raising their poor granddaughter. When it was just me, my grandmother was barely conscious and my grandfather was angrily drunk at the world for losing his son. He got worse after we had to take my grandmother to the nursing home.

There were so many times I thought about telling Steve. There were so many nights I wanted to run to his house, climb in his window and beg for him to keep me safe. The only reason I didn't tell him was because I was scared that my grandfather's rage would be turned on Steve. I'd rather take the beatings than let my grandfather hurt Steve.

I also haven't told Steve–or anyone–about the clock. I was about to tell Steve about it when we broke into the school to look at the counselor's notes but Max announced that she had started to see it. Turns out, I started seeing it about twelve hours after Max first saw it.