𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | Steve Harrington x Reader

II - The Search

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 morning, I jolt awake at the sound of the phone ringing, my headphones slightly skewed from sleeping. Groaning, I push myself out of bed and cross over to the phone hanging on our living room wall.

"Hello?" I mumble, half asleep. When I lift the receiver to my ear.

"(Y/n), hey," I hear Joyce's panicked voice through the phone.

"Hi, Joyce," I respond with a little more alertness in my voice, "What can I do for you?"

"Uh, I was wondering if Will stayed over last night?" Her tone indicating a sense of urgency.

"No, he didn't," I mumble, worried, "Did he not come home last night?" I question more firmly.

"No, no, I'm sure he's..." Joyce's voice trails off on the other end of the phone, "You know what, he probably just left early for school."

"Wait, J—" I'm cut off by Joyce's quick response.

"Thank you so much, honey," Joyce says in a sweet tone, "Bye-bye." Abruptly ending our conversation, the line going dead before I can properly bid her goodbye.

"Huh, that was weird," I murmur to myself before heading back to my room to prepare for the school day ahead.

As I'm getting ready, my eyes catch the photos framing my bedroom mirror. My brain floods with memories with the first day of the eighth grade, Steve's arm around my shoulders. Both of us with a grin stretching from ear to ear. Halloween '81, Dustin and I laughing in delight as we terrorize the neighborhood. And even four years ago when Nancy and I dressed up as elves for the boys' Elder Tree campaign. As I remember each of the days, I'm filled with warmth, holding those memories close to my heart.

Two sudden honks on a car horn interrupt my thoughts. I jump startled, whipping my head towards my bedroom door. All the while, my heart pounds in my chest.

"(Y/n)!" Dustin calls out from outside my bedroom, "Your boyfriend's here!!"

Ignoring Dustin's comment, I snatch my backpack off my bedroom floor and walk towards the front door. I spot an all too familiar maroon BMW parked in our driveway.

"Dustin, why is Steve here?" I ask accusingly, my hands placed on my hips when I turn to face my brother, demanding answers.

"Why would I know?" Dustin asks, both hands in the air in a defensive manner, "He's your best friend."

I let out a frustrated groan and trudge outside to Steve's car. As I approach the maroon BMW, Steve catches sight of me and rolls down the car window.

"Hey."

"Hi."

We stare into each other's eyes for a second too long to be just friends.

"What are you doing here, Steve?" I ask irritated, once I shift my gaze elsewhere.

"What? You're not happy to see me?," Steve counters, placing his hand over his heart, "You wound me, sweetheart."

I roll my eyes but flush at the nickname and Steve responds a delighted chuckle, "I'm here to take you and Dustin to school." He adds nonchalantly.

"What?" I say, confused, "Why?"

"Because, (Y/n), we're best friends. I'm not letting that go ever again," Steve admits, determination in his tone, making it clear that he refuses to let our friendship slip again.

"Pinky promise?" I ask sticking my pinky finger into the window of Steve's car.

"Pinky promise," He nods, interlocking his finger with mine. My heart flutters at Steve's touch and I remember all the times we've done this before.