Secrets // Steve Harrington

Chapter Forty-Six - Fireballs

Word Count: 3,301 words. 

Warnings: None.

I wasn't exactly sure how I had gotten inside, but I had. Will was on the couch, Nancy and Jonathon by his side. Hopper was screaming down the phone to some government official about the lab and the rest of us settled in the kitchen.

The kids had taken the table to themselves, and Steve and Jack stood at their backs. I had found somewhere to sit, although how I had done that I wasn't quite sure. There were two chairs lined against the wall opposite the children. I had taken one of them.

"I am the police!" he shouted, and I flinched. "Chief Jim Hopper!"

"Hey," his comforting voice greeted. Steve moved to his hunkers in front of me, taking my hands in his. "Stop doing that."

I hadn't noticed what it was that I was doing until he told me to stop. My nails had been picking at the skin around my fingers, drawing blood.

"Shit," I cursed with a sigh.

"Are you alright?" he asked then.

Looking at our hands, I answered. "Are you seriously asking me that?"

I felt like a wanted to cry. Every second that I spoke, that I breathed, I felt like I was about to break out into tears. My throat ached like it did when I sobbed and I sniffled every couple of minutes.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I don't know what to say right now."

Looking up at him, I could see the strained smile he attempted to send my way, the hope that he was trying to give me. I loved how hard he tried.

"Maybe you should comment on how close your ex-girlfriend is getting to Jonathon," I suggested, distracting myself and gesturing to the two by the couch. Nancy placed her hand delicately on Jonathon's back, comforting him as he brushed the hair from Will's forehead.

Harrington cast them a glance before looking to me again. "They're cute together," he commented and I was shocked by his tone. There was no jealousy, no anger. No... nothing.

"How can you move on so quickly?" I posed.

"Is my love life really the thing you want to talk about right now?" he countered playfully.

"It's better than talking about how I'm slowly going mad," I returned.

Steve sighed at that, standing up and taking the seat beside me. I didn't fight him as he pulled me closer, wrapping an arm around my back and letting me rest my head on his chest. His other hand held my ruined ones.

"You're not mad, Munson," he told me.

I closed my eyes. "How do you know that?"

"I know mad," he explained. "I've seen some really insane people. My mother for one. She's suffered with paranoia. Something to do with the drugs she takes, I think. For the depression."

I pulled back to look at him. He had been hesitant to say that, to tell me anything about his mother. I could tell how much courage it had taken to say that, and I understood his hesitance.

"If I'm not mad, then what am I?" I replied, not drawing attention to the information he had just dropped on me.

He smiled. "You're Thalia Munson. An amazing woman who has suffered more than she should ever have to. You're a human being, Thalia."

I swallowed, resting back against his chest. "I'm a monster."

"No, you could be a monster," he corrected, grip tightening, "but no one starts off as one."