Work Text:
For the longest time, Steve Harrington hated words.
They came in many forms.
Whispered rumors. Empty promises. Threats screamed through doorways after a bad report card or a missed chore. False apologies after an argument pushed too far.
They were versatile, he had to admit.
Despite his hatred, Steve was good with words. Tactful. Knew just what to say to keep friends around, scrape by in school, and weasel his way out of trouble.
Or to get a girl.
The girl.
Nancy was his everything.
She was smart, and kind, and prettier than words could ever describe.
He messed it up, the first time. Classic Steve.
Ironically, the words that put the nail in the coffin weren't even his. But he didn't cover them up, so Steve supposed he was just as bad as the guy who wrote them.
But he made himself better for her, and he got her back, and it really seemed like things were gonna work out.
But even in the happiest relationship he'd ever been in, words could still betray Steve.
Bullshit.
Each word was worse than the last, running from Nancy's drunken mouth and shattering his dreams of their relationship.
Steve hated words, all right.
But most of all, he hated how he didn't doubt for a second that she meant them.
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The day after that stupid Halloween party, he begs.
"Then tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"You love me." He hates how his voice cracks as he says it, weakness displayed across the few syllables.
Nancy looks at him incredulously.
She can't.
As he walks away from their relationship her, Steve decides words are better than silence.