Night Vale ▷ Steve Harrington

v. red-handed

𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓  𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄. She claimed she wanted nothing to do with the money the mayor had given them and urged—or demanded, but that wasn’t Letitia’s personality—them to turn it in to the police immediately. While Steve stayed silent, Scout assured her that they would, even if the hesitation in his voice worried him a little bit. 

They had left Steve’s car a little ways away from the outskirts of Night Vale, and it wasn’t long before the two boys were seated and the senior had gunned the engine, taking off the dirt path onto the empty road in a cloud of dirt. He held the steering wheel at the bottom with just his pointer finger, but the hand in his lap was wrapped in a bloodless fist. 

Within the car, everything was quiet. The only noise between them was their breathing and the stuttering noises of the tires gripping to the road as they raced past trees taller than skyscrapers and air as still as a tomb. He was glad they weren’t walking anymore, he’d done enough of that for one day, but something about Steve’s expression made the blond shift in his seat. He didn’t know Steve Harrington, not really. Apart from passing glances in the halls in school, Scout only knew Steve from his reputation—and it seemed that reputation, that particularly violent reputation was gearing to be aimed at someone soon; that someone might be him. 

“You okay?” 

From his right, Steve shifted in his seat. His expression was empty, but his eyes carried a hollow, deeper meaning Scout didn’t understand. His face forward and eyes on the road, his loosens just enough for his thumb to move back and forth across his fist as if feeling for a callous. 

“No. Yes? I-I don’t know,” Steve answered, shaking his head slightly at his own failed response. In a pause, his eyes narrowed and his teeth grazed his bottom lip before letting out a short, pained sigh. “That didn’t—that didn’t answer my questions. I mean, did it for you? That guy, he didn’t really tell us anything, or-or tell us about the ring.” 

“No,” Scout agreed, frowning as he remembered their odd interaction, all too aware of the duffle bag stuffed underneath his seat, “And like, why though? Why wouldn’t he just tell us about her and the ring if he didn’t want us to know, you know?” 

When the sound of a scoff rang through the car, Scout’s determined expression faltered. “What?” 

Steve shrugged, eyes ahead. “Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing, because less than a moment later he spoke, as if bursting to say what he wanted to say. “Just—you were kinda eager to tell him everything. He was super weird and you just like, blurted everything out, didn’t even bother to lie.” 

“Oh? And how would you have done it?” Although he didn’t mean to, Scout’s voice immediately shifted into a defensive tone. “How else were we gonna find out anything, just sit there and expect him to tell us everything? He was gonna wanna know why, so I told him, alright? Just drop it.” 

“You could’ve at least left me out of it,” the brunette said sharply, his eyes darting to his passenger. 

“You didn’t,” he said simply, a tone of finality lingering after he spoke that the senior didn't seem to understand. 

“What?”

Scout would have laughed at the guy’s stupidity if he hadn’t been ticked off. “Dude, the first thing you told him was that Dawn knew my mom in high school. You sold me out first, and then I just explained everything in the office, it’s not that big of a deal.” 

“Kinda seems like it,” Steve muttered, running his finger over the steering wheel’s leather material in thought, bringing up his unoccupied hand to run it through his hair. “Guess...Guess I didn’t think of that.”