Chapter Text
December 31st, 1989
“It’s called a quarter life crisis. You’re having one right now.”
Robin had told him that as she stared at the two jackets in hand. She shoved one towards him, allowing it to flop over his head.
He supposed he was, which was why he had pulled it on, and followed her out tonight to some random man’s home in the East side.
It was New Year’s Eve. Despite the excitement of the day in the past, tonight Steve sat on a stool as the night drew long, watching the ebb and flow of people he didn’t know. He didn’t know anyone at this party, Robin had gotten into it by chance when her and Vickie served some DJ at the restaurant a few nights ago.
She had passed the ticket and the wristband across the table over breakfast and told him that she figured it would help with all of the existentialism he seemed to drown himself in lately.
Apparently, up and moving to New York didn’t make those feelings disappear into thin air.
Steve settled into his seat at the bar, no drink in hand. He’d already drank Robin’s half an hour ago. She had spotted Vickie the moment they’d come in almost an hour before, and told Steve that she would be right back.
He could have sworn he saw them in the corner a few minutes back, with Robin wrapped around Vickie like a tall, lanky jacket.
“Another drink?” The bartender asked over the music.
Steve must have been sitting there for a while. He nodded.
“A beer.”
“What’s your poison?” The bartender prodded. He leaned against the table, as he slid over a small, laminated menu. “Tell me if you find something you like.”
Steve floundered for a moment. The man’s eyes drew lines all over his face, lingering. He couldn’t bring himself to feel desired by it.
He stared emptily at the short list of names before picking one at random and handing it back.
The bartender nodded, “Good choice.”
Steve smiled. He probably would have said that no matter what Steve had chosen. It all tasted like piss water anyway.
His reluctance turned out to be a premonition, as the glass left his lips. Steve stared into the thick white foam, hands wet with condensation.
Why am I even here? He thought to himself, wiping his hands against his jeans. At a party he didn’t feel like talking at, dodging glances from a nosy bartender. He glared back into his beer, trying to direct his eyes to something. He’d be damned if he’d ever let Robin drag him out again. Parties really were better left in high school, before he pre-planned hangovers and drinking on an empty stomach didn’t make him feel sleezy.
Steve took another sip, and winced with a quiet grunt.
Yeah, tastes like piss water, he thought.
A quiet snort broke him from his thoughts.
“You seem more like a wine guy.”
He paused, glancing upwards with the glass at his lips.
Steve hadn’t been interested in the looks of the boys around him before, but for some reason, he was struck by the man in front of him.
The man was just sitting there, his chin in his hands. His brown eyes seemed to shimmer mischievously even in the low light. He had clearly been watching Steve for who knows how long, judging by the little smile on his face.
The man tilted his head when Steve didn’t answer.
“I’m used to drinking shitty beers,” Steve replied.
The man laughed, a loose tendril of his hair falling over his shoulder. It was in a ponytail, Steve mused. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen that before, other than on celebrities and trailer hicks.
The other man scooted closer, just close enough that his knee grazed Steve’s thigh. Up close, he smelled faintly of cigarettes and spearmint.
“Probably tastes like shit to you because you don’t like beer, sweetheart.”
Steve laughed brightly. “Maybe.”
Smiling, the man leaned forward with a hand raised towards the bartender, “What you really want is a white sangria, and you don’t care that it’s a ‘girly’ drink either.”
Steve hummed; he wasn’t in the mood for arguing. Besides, he thought, it earned him a satisfied stare and praise that he would like to think wasn’t overly mocking.
The drink turned into another, and that turned into a meaningless chat that devolved into a series of endless topics they explored for what seemed like hours. The man questioned his thoughts on everything from current events to politics, philosophy, theory, and the arts.
Steve wasn’t even sure what he had said just before, but he had prodded Steve on the philosophy of happiness just a few moments ago. In doing so, he had quoted the dialogue of a reading he’d been forced to do years ago: De Vita Beata.
The Beautiful Life, he had translated smoothly.
It was so hopelessly ironic, Steve almost had a mind to believe that the man could read his thoughts.
Maybe he could feel the crisis oncoming and decided to poke a bit of fun.
Still, he found himself enjoying the casual banter the other man had engaged him in.
It was nice to speak without doubt. It felt nice that the man indulged his whims, and filled him in on his lackings, instead of receiving a raised brow, like he couldn’t possibly know what he was talking about, even when he did.
If he had been a teacher, Steve might have done much better in school.
“Would you have been a…Stoic, then? Even though you’re drinking at this party?” Steve asked.
Steve looked at the man beside him, his eyes sparkling with mirth at what he’d just said.
His lips brushed his ear as he replied, “Too much of a hedonist for all that, hm?”
Steve didn’t think so. In fact, he thought he’d missed the point entirely.
His head was swimming now. The music had gotten quieter over time, but it could have been the way that the man beside him was whispering in his ear that made him tune everything else out.
Between the chatting, and the hand that had gravitated to his thigh, he glanced up, away from the magnetic presence of the man in front of him, and caught a glimpse of Vickie and Robin making out just by the exit.
It was probably his okay to end the night there, and as much as he enjoyed talking to the magnetic stranger, he had waited for this moment before he had even come.
“Well,” Steve stood, stretching to his full height. The man’s eyes followed his every move as he reached for the jacket draped behind him. “It was nice talking to you, but I should probably call it a night.”
The man looked at his watch, “So early? The night is still young.”
The clock in the centre of the room ticked, as if on cue. It was a few minutes before 11:00. Robin and Vickie had disappeared through the dark doorway, tangled up in each other and slipping away just as he looked towards them.
Steve rolled his lip between his teeth. Midnight hadn’t ever been the goal, but it almost felt a little pathetic on the cusp of a new year.
“It wasn’t my intention to stay for long anyway,” Steve said eventually. An excuse, maybe.
“How’d you end up here?” His cheek rested against his palm. “The party didn’t seem to be doing your mood any favours.”
Steve huffed out a laugh.
“Just came with a friend who was invited, is all.” He knocked back the rest of his drink, taking a few bills from his wallet. “And it wasn't the party, just the entire year so far.”
The man stood as well, his sharp scent overwhelming him for a minute as he leaned in close, lips brushing his ear as he whispered, “Then how about you let me turn it around for you?”
Steve swallowed. Their eyes met.
The man implored him with his expression, determined but pleading. His warm breath puffed against Steve’s skin.
Distantly, he could feel the stare of the bartender on the side of his face. He should have been aware of that, of where they were.
Steve wasn’t sure what words he used when he gave in, his mind blanked on the fact that he might have wanted this more than he let on, and the fact that the man in front of him, might have wanted it even more.
—————-
December in New York was cold, but not as heavy as the oppressive snowfall in Hawkins. Steve wondered what he was doing as he stepped out into the mucky streets with the stranger at his side.
The man’s hair seemed to blend into the darkness, blowing free from their constraints the moment they stepped outside. He had tugged it loose mere moments afterwards, and Steve couldn’t help but stare when it fell around his shoulders.
“Care for another drink? Might warm us up.” The man asked, bumping his shoulder.
They were walking aimlessly, dodging other late night crawlers on the sidewalk.
“Sure,” Steve agreed easily, allowing the chill of the night to wake him up. “Need to wash the taste of that beer out of my mouth.”
“Did the two cocktails you had after not do that for you?”
Steve smiled, “‘was a pretty strong beer, I guess.”
He knew this street like the back of his hand, had walked down the worn, broken down sidewalk a thousand times by now. The detour took them to the seedy little corner store a few blocks down, and Steve almost laugh at how out of place they both looked.
The thick, cool leather of the other man’s jacket dragged across Steve’s reddened knuckles, white hot with the cold, as he opened the door for him. He shuddered as they walked in, warmth rushing through him with the buzzing of the heater. The man laughed at his bright flushed cheeks.
The store was empty, as it usually was this late at night. The smell of booze and cigarettes would have been overwhelming, had it not been for the scarf wrapped tightly around his neck, still faintly smelling like the man that trailed in after him. Steve nodded towards the storekeeper, stopping just short of where the other man was stood with the fridge wide open.
“Do you make it a habit to drink with strangers?” Steve asked, eyeing the contents.
He plucked a cooler from the side. Something vaguely fruity. The guys would have hung his ass to dry if they saw him with that.
The man gave him a sideways grin, almost overly pleased,“Why? Jealous?”
Steve gaped. “What-“
“Chill, big guy,” The man interrupted with a snort, “I know you don’t swing that way.”
He patted Steve on the shoulder. His brows raised, giving him that look. As if he’d seen Steve’s type before.
This time, the flush on his cheeks wasn’t from the cold. A mix of apprehension, and embarrassment sunk in his stomach like a stone.
“You don’t know that,” Steve muttered, mostly out of spite.
He should have been glad there weren’t any misunderstandings, but it sounded like an insult when it rolled off the other man’s tongue that way. Like Steve wasn’t privy to something he was.
The man paused, mouth open, and unblinking.
“You’re letting all the cold air out,” an agitated voice broke the silence.
The shopkeeper was staring them down, arms crossed. Steve nodded towards him, plucking another drink from the side, and shoving towards the other man’s chest.
“Our mistake,” He smiled, putting a few bills on the counter. “For the drinks.”
The shopkeeper gave him a scoff, but grabbed the cash from the counter, and turned back to fiddling with his radios.
“Have a good night.”
The other man was still looking at him when Steve tugged him out of the store, arm looped in his. The bell rang above them as they stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
The cold air seemed to snap the man out of his trance as the wind hit his face, and he came to life again with a laugh.
“Tell me about yourself,” He said suddenly, bumping his shoulder.
Steve scoffed, cracking open his drink.
“That bad?” The man laughed abruptly,
“You have no idea.”
His eyes grew small, squinted in joy. Steve took in his flushed face, and blushed lips. He licked his own, wetting them with his drink. He was suddenly parched.
“I’m a teacher. Just finished my final year as a TA, and starting with a kindergarten class this fall.” He snorted, “Not sure why I had to move states to be a teacher, but here I am now. Flailing.”
The other man took a swig of his drink, and said, “Well, if it’s any consolation, I’ve been here for ten years and I still haven’t figured it out.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
Steve saw the corner of his lip twitch upwards, mirroring his own. He wasn’t sure which one of them started laughing first, but soon it was both of them, leaned up against the side of a convenience store by the looks of it, side by side, catching their breath. Steve was sure the alcohol was starting to get to him, or maybe it was the pathetic sense of camaraderie he felt with this man whose name he hadn’t even asked for.
He hadn’t not felt the weight of it all in a while. Somehow, everything hadn’t fallen into place after highschool, everything, and everyone other than him.
He still felt like a relic of the past, floating by and trying to land somewhere safe while the others sailed past him.
Something about the man’s easy smile, the arm that had somehow wrapped around his shoulder, and the crisp night air, made his head clear. The fog of inferiority, and anxiety lifted for a moment, and all he could see was the spark in the other man’s eye, and the passing shadows as the world moved around them.
“What do you do now?” Steve asked.
The man looked out to the street. His face momentarily became a wash of purple and blue neon lights as the ‘Open’ sign flashed over their heads. Steve hadn’t thought the question was so profound that he needed time to think about it, but he didn’t push.
“Music,” The man settled on after a long while. “I work in a record store.”
Steve nodded sagely. They were in the same struggle after all.
He downed the rest of his drink in one go. Steve followed suit.
The man looked at him with something secret in his eyes. His stare was heavy. A drawn, somber expression over his face. Steve itched to move forward, and do something. What? He wasn’t sure yet. Maybe he’d take his face in his hands, and wait for the moment to take them both. Maybe he’d punch him in the face for making him think that way in the first place.
His thick eye lashes. The round tip of his slightly curved nose. It was just above the soft wisps of hair, decorating the pinkest, prettiest, pair of lips he’d even seen. Steve noticed more details than he cared to admit, but he could almost feel the alcohol sloshing about in his brain, drowning out any coherent thoughts.
He leaned against the convenience store window to escape it, eye drawn to the individually sliced cakes in the store window. They were probably priced like half his rent for the month, the cheap bastards, but he suddenly wanted one desperately.
Steve heard the bell, and the gust of warm air. He didn’t pay it much thought, until he realized that the man wasn’t at his side anymore. Instead, he was knocking at the window from the inside, pointing to the singular piece Steve was looking at.
“You want one?”
Steve had a feeling the night was coming to an end when he had somehow found himself on a park bench, leaning against this unknown man’s shoulder. The massive slice of cheesecake was nearly reduced to nothing after a few minutes of poking, the remnants of which were still coating the back of the spoon that hung from his lips.
They had both cooled off in the winter air, sitting in a silence Steve seemed to lose himself in. All the hot headed, alcohol fueled spontaneity had waned as the night grew later. Now he was left with a somber thought that he wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end.
He still didn’t know the man’s name, and the thought made his chest tighten. What was unknown would probably stay unknown when it was all over and done with. Still, he felt himself grasping at straws to keep going.
“You never mentioned why you came out tonight,” Steve muttered, his eyes locked onto the side of the man’s face.
The other man gave him a pensive hum, his own spoon scraping against the plastic.
“My friends dragged me out. Said I was being too much of a gloomy asshole lately, but I was just tired of all this, you know?” His lips tugged up into an effortful smile, “I had a feeling you felt the same.”
Steve licked his spoon. He felt the other man’s gaze on his lips, and in the back of his mind, he wondered where he was taking this. Why was his heart beating outside of his chest? He was aware of every breath, the glitter in the other man’s eye. The subtle brush of their knees as his bounced anxiously.
This man seemed to light him like a live wire.
“I was too,” he admitted.
The sky was suddenly so much more interesting than it was before, and he gave it all of his attention in a sudden retreat. He leaned back against the bench, palms splayed against the cold, damp wood while he calmed his racing pulse.
“Certainly ended a much better year than it started.”
When he glanced over to the man at his side, his smile was crooked, the same one he used to give to girls when he really wanted to knock them off their feet, but their eyes met and he sucked in a soft breath.
Steve hadn’t even realized how close they’d gotten.
The other man had moved in closer. His nose brushed the heated swell of Steve’s cheek as he spoke.
“I think so too.”
Steve could feel his voice like a vibration in his chest. His cold fingertips brushed against his cheeks as he cupped them in his palms. Their breath, a chilled vapour, warmed in between them as he held the other man’s gaze. Slowly, Steve’s eyes slipped shut.
Distantly, cheers erupted from the centre town when they finally connected. A slow brush of their lips when the fireworks went off, maybe in his chest, and in the corner of his eye, squeezed shut.
Steve would just have to trust Robin’s word for it when she said the fireworks were beautiful; His eyes were closed.