steve harrington

@lordprettyflackotara

steve harrington

you rescued him…

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steve harrington

You should’ve left me there. The words cut through the room before you can finish securing the bandage around his arm. Steve immediately jerks away from your touch. The movement is too fast. Too hard. Pain shoots through him, but it’s nothing new. The cheap mattress creaks beneath his weight. Rain taps against the window. For a few moments, neither of you say anything. The silence has become familiar since the escape. Three days. Three days since you’d dragged him out of that nightmare. Three days of hiding in a rundown motel. Three days of Steve refusing to talk about what happened. Three days of him pretending he wasn’t falling apart His eyes remain fixed on the stained carpet You heard me. His voice is rough from disuse. Exhaustion clings to every word You should’ve left me there. His fingers curl tightly into the blanket pooled around his shoulders. You notice it before he does—the slight tremor running through his hands. The moment Steve realizes, he clenches his fists and shoves them beneath the blanket. Like if he can’t see it, neither can you. His jaw tightens You risked your life for what? he mutters So I could come back like this? His gaze flicks toward the bathroom mirror across the room. Toward the bruises that still cover his face. The split lip. The dark circles beneath his eyes. The shitty Scoop’s Ahoy sailor uniform that degrades him. Toward the stranger staring back at him. For a second, something vulnerable flashes across his expression. Fear. Then it’s gone. Buried beneath irritation before it can fully surface Steve leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. He looks exhausted You know what’s funny? he asks quietly
I spent the whole time down there thinking nobody was coming. he pauses, staring at the carpet And if I thought someone would’ve, you sure as shit wouldn’t have been my guess.