haplesshairpile: (troubled)
Steve Harrington ([personal profile] haplesshairpile) wrote in [personal profile] takecourage 2024-07-12 07:07 pm (UTC)

That’s the thing; life goes on whether Steve wants it to or not.

He used to think that losing Nancy was heartbreak. Shattering heartbreak. It’s nothing compared to this. It wasn’t even a splinter. Losing Maeve, that’s heartbreak.

And it wasn’t even like she dumped him. It’s not like they made a decision to part ways. She was just gone one day and it wasn’t her choice. She just disappeared, like she was ripped right out of Steve’s heart itself, leaving it tattered and bleeding. He’s been beaten to a bloody pulp, been tortured and abandoned and forgotten about, but all of that was nothing compared to this.

He sort of wants to die. He’s not suicidal or anything. He wouldn’t try to actually hurt himself. He just— he wants to not exist for a little while. He wants a break from how much it hurts.

Steve has the house to himself. He doesn’t know where Robin and Rue are. They’re out somewhere, probably sick of his perpetual storm cloud energy. He wouldn’t blame them, honestly.

He’s on the couch in a pair of black sweatpants, holding a bottle of whiskey while not-watching some shitty action movie. It’s pathetic. He’s a total cliche. Maeve would probably kick his ass if she could see him. But she can’t and that’s the problem. She’s gone.

There’s a loud knock at the door and Steve jumps a little, dragging his fingers through his messy hair as he pulls himself to his feet. He assumes Robin forgot her keys or something, considering how late it is, but he pauses when he hears Alex’s voice.

He had heard about what happened and honestly, he was kind of numb to it at the time. Sort of an asshole thing to be, sure. But he only has room for so much.

Steve swallows hard and opens the door, brow furrowing as he looks down at Alex’s face. She looks as miserable as he feels, and he sort of wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He’s not even sure if he can at this point.

“Hey,” he says quietly, voice raspy from lack of use, and then steps aside to let her in.

Post a comment in response:

This account has disabled anonymous posting.
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
No Subject Icon Selected
More info about formatting