THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT ｡ STRANGER THINGS

40 - THE KIDS AREN'T ALRIGHT

Hawkins was bathed in gloomy moonlight, hours ticking by midnight as darkened houses bedded sleeping bodies, all unaware of the strange horrors that had been shared by a handful of fighters. These fighters; most teenagers, most children, had walked the silent streets with bruises and store limbs after a very long night, returning home to lay and wait for sleep. 

Steve Harrington, face black and blue, had allowed Max Mayfield to drive the children back at to the Byers' house, where they found a sleeping Marigold Lonsdale on the floorboards, her body curled into a ball and a leather jacket covering her shoulders. Billy Hargrove was still passed out by her side, asleep to the world of the living for a bit longer. They laid together like dead lovers. Inside the quiet and messy house, the children dropped like flies. Their heads found pillows, their limbs found the soft couch and the limited beds. They filled their minds with dreams and nightmares. While the children were drifting in and out of sleep, Joyce Byers had returned to calm the tired souls. She promised to tell their mothers about a long sleepover in the morning, even Dottie and Micky Fields that lived right next door. They could not return home looking like they had been in a war, too many questions would bloom. 

While the household drifted into a peaceful moment before sunrise, Daisy Lonsdale, too tired to even close her eyes, had pulled Steve Harrington into the tiny bathroom, locking the door behind them. Her fingertips shook as they rattled the piping alive. Warm water spilled into the shower and she eased a batted boy under the droplets. Steve's hair plastered against his forehead within seconds, but the blood swirled towards the drain easily. He stood in his jeans, too exhausted to even remove his clothing fully, just wanting the blood from his face to wash away. Daisy stood at the edge of the shower, her combat boots leaving mudded prints over the tiles. They did not speak, she only washed away the blood from his face as he tilted back his head to savour the warmth. When the inky blood was completely gone, she twisted around to wash her own face in the basin and to spit out some mouthwash.

"Daisy." Steve's voice was barely a whisper, a call to like. 

Daisy looked across at him in the mirror, which was half fogged. "Hmm?"

She watched as he leaned forward, the bathroom so tiny, he could twist his fingers around her wrist from the stream of water. He tugged lightly, seeing dried blood on her collarbone still. Daisy allowed him to drag her into the shower. Standing in the shower, fully clothed, with warm water spilling over her head, down her shoulders, through her jeans, she found herself crying softly. She was so tired, so drained, so relieved she was standing next to him alive. Only a bruise, or two, to watch fade in the next few weeks. 

Steve wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tightly. He kissed the top of her head, eyes closed against the water. "We're okay," he whispered, not even sure she could hear him with the drawl of running water. He washed the remaining dried blood from her face kindly, rubbing away the tears that mixed with the warm water. 

"Steve?" Daisy questioned lightly, hands pressed to his shirt under the water. He looked down, his head nodding for her to go on. "When we were in the bus and that Demodog was about to eat us, you started to say something. What were you going to tell me?"

He waited for a second, combing some wet hair from her face. His cupped hand lingered on her cheek, his heart calling to her own. He could have told her a lot of things; that he was sorry all this had happened again, that he had been incredibly stupid in the past regarding their relationship, always bordering something more. He could have told her anything, but he settled on the truth. "I was going to tell you," His lips turned up in a shy smile. "That I would let you break my heart, if you wanted to."

Daisy, blinking through the water, shook her head lightly. A bubble of laughter wanted to rise from her chest with his words. She knew there were many ways to speak about love and Steve Harrington was not one for pretty words, so this was almost a promise, a way to start something they had been hiding from for a long while. "I don't want to break your heart," Daisy said, rising to her tippy toes in her boots. "I just want a chance to have it."