***

Billy left without them that morning. He claimed he had to go in early for basketball practice, but Sophie could tell he was still mad about the day before. Part of him had a right to be since she had practically abandoned him in favour of their stepsister, someone he despised. But then she thought that he kinda deserved to feel shitty. Couldn't he understand that the more he chose to hate others, the less he'd see of his own sister?

She debated the thought of even going to school at all. The bruise was worse today, appearing more black than purple -- it would take a few days before the normal colour of her skin would return.

Sophie sat cross-legged on her bed, dressed and ready to go, but she couldn't convince herself to move. It's just that when Steve caught her out, it was all her worst fears coming to light. What if more people asked questions today? She couldn't handle that.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knocking at her bedroom door. She looked up, slightly befuddled. "Come in."

The door opened, revealing her stepmother on the other side. In her left hand, she held a plastic bag by its handles. "Morning."

"Oh, hi, Susan." She sheepishly greeted her, confused as to why she was there. "Did my dad send you or...?"

Susan shook her head. "No, your father's gone to work so I thought it best to take you and Max to school today."

"Okay." Sophie didn't know what else to say, wishing she had fabricated an excuse to stay home. Her stepmother remained, her eyes scanning the room in silence. Two fingers tapped at her thigh in an unrhythmic movement. Her stepdaughter stared back, lowering her brows. "Do you need something?"

"No, no. I was just checking if you were all right. You didn't come out for breakfast this morning." Susan mentioned.

"I'm not hungry." She hoped Susan wouldn't clock her lie. And though her stomach growled in fury, she suppressed the noise by leaning forward and pretending everything was fine. Sophie eyed the bag swinging by her stepmother's knees. "Is that all?"

"Oh, um..." She fumbled at the plastic bag, shifting towards her. "I -- well, I thought I'd return your things."

She opened the bag and Sophie peered inside, her lips parting. Everything her dad had taken from her vanity -- the right items to cover up her bruise. "But I thought-"

"Sometimes, Neil doesn't think before he acts. I'm beginning to see that." Susan placed the bag in front of her. "I don't want you going to school in this state."

It was rare to see someone other than Billy go against Neil's orders. Another thing she couldn't understand about Susan was how she could ever fall in love with a man like her father. She thought hard about why this kind, gentle woman would ruin the life of her and her daughter by letting this man into their world.

But she was too happy to ask those sorts of questions -- too early in their potential mother-daughter relationship. The whites of her eyes glowed as she looked back at her stepmother, her smile building. "Thank you, Susan." 

There was a growing fondness in Sophie's heart, a newfound appreciation for the woman whom Billy once accused of taking their mother's place.

Guilt stirred in the teenager, recalling her outburst. "I'm sorry for yelling at you yesterday."

"It wasn't your fault," Susan assured her, accepting her stepdaughter's remorse. "Best keep those products in a safe place in case he tries destroying them next time."

Her stepmother began to walk away, feeling a little more confident around her. Sophie dragged the plastic towards her, clasping the thin material with gratitude. "Thanks again."

"It's no problem, sweetie." She froze by her doorway, turning back. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

"It's fine." Sophie retained her grin, reaching inside the bag. "I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Don't worry, there's no need to rush." Though her own daughter had little interest in makeup, she knew Sophie strived to look her best. Susan closed the door behind her, leaving her stepdaughter to apply the products she needed.

She leapt off her bed and strolled over to her vanity, prepping her primer. Her gaze caught her reflection, and Sophie halted, meeting her eyes. She sat in thought, finding her emotions in conflict.

Maybe she was wrong about Susan. Perhaps she was wrong about a lot of things, especially when it came to people.

***

Even when a sweaty mess, Billy always found a way to look like a supermodel. Wet droplets lathered his tanned skin, gleaming like diamonds in the sun. Steve Harrington, on the other hand, was a different story with his sweat-soaked gym shirt and green shorts that were clenching his butt a bit too tight -- he was Billy Hargrove's main target during practice.

"Let's go. Pass it up now." Their coach advised from the sidelines. "Get open!"

As Steve's teammate threw the ball in his direction, Billy shoved him out of the way, catching it instead. And when Steve attempted to take it from him, his chances were squandered in seconds.

Billy revelled in this newfound rivalry, taking every chance he got to mess with the former "King of Hawkins High". He desired the glory Steve once had, and that meant taking him down first.

He laughed at the boy's weak and exhausted form. "All right! All right, all right." 

Steve wiped the sweat off his brow, determined to regain the ball. The other players crowded behind him, barely interfering. They all knew what Billy was doing, and they enjoyed it. 

"King Steve!" Billy mockingly gestured to him. "King Steve, everyone!"

His worn trainers skidded against the varnished gym floor, squeaking every time he moved. Billy stepped forward, towering over Steve as the latter kept his back bent. He tugged on his bottom lip, his eyes focused on the ball.

But as Billy edged closer, Steve found himself ambling backwards. This guy wasn't just an annoying asshole -- there was something that struck fear in him. His confident saunter was more than just intimidating, but Steve would never admit it.

"I like it." He dribbled the ball, wearing a smirk on his face. "Playing tough today."

"Jesus! Do you ever stop talking?!" The words burst from his lips. Though Billy Hargrove had only been here a few days, Steve was already sick of him. "Man, come on!"

His sister, on the other hand -- Steve didn't know what to make of her. When he was falling asleep on Tina's front patio, she offered to take him home. She had left him wrapped up in a blanket and made sure he wasn't late for school.

But when he tried to thank her the next day, she was cold towards him.

Steve might have deserved it since he hadn't exactly acknowledged her presence when she was with Nancy. Yet, he knew something was wrong from the way she attempted to hide her bruise -- and he had this sick feeling that Billy or someone else in their family had something to do with it.

Billy guffawed, tilting his form away from Steve; the guy could not take him seriously. "What? You're afraid the coach is gonna bench you now that I'm here? Huh?" 

Then he charged, shoving into Steve's body. He lost his footing, falling backwards and tumbling onto the waxed floor.

The other boy, when in reach, threw the ball with a slight jump. It travelled straight into the net, scoring another point for their team. Tommy Hagan high-fived Billy, but his attention was drawn elsewhere.

Steve's rib ached and the air in his lungs felt stiff; he could barely let out a cough. His rival leaned over him and, to his surprise, extended a hand, seemingly helping him up. Thinking that he was calling a truce, Steve grabbed it.

But as he yanked himself upwards, Billy spoke into his ear. "You were moving your feet." He hissed. "Plant them next time, draw a charge."

He threw the teenager back onto the ground, stepping over his body to rejoin the game. That's when Steve knew he was right to fear Billy Hargrove.

As the game came to a close, the sweat-soaked boys retreated to the showers. But even Steve knew he wouldn't be safe there either, preparing to face any kind of humiliation. He stripped himself of his worn gym clothes and underwear, standing under a showerhead. The water sprayed his face and hair, dousing him in cold, bitter liquid. He didn't care about letting it heat up -- Steve wanted to get out of there as soon as possible to avoid further humiliation.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed Billy approach his left. He said nothing, merely turning his own shower on. On the other side, Tommy joined them, sharing a smirk with the new boy. Steve ignored them, closing his eyes as he applied shampoo to his hair. Clouds of steam formed around them, trapping themselves in warm air. They stood in silence for a few minutes, Steve glanced between them with withheld unsurety. He knew one of them was gonna make a move.

Eventually, Billy's gaze shifted back. "Don't sweat it, Harrington." He said, reaching for a towel. "Today's just not your day, man."

"Yeah, not your week." Tommy chimed in, already taking advantage of his newfound weaknesses. "You and the princess break up for one day, she's already running off with the freak's brother." 

Steve's eyes met Tommy's for a moment, bulging a little. And though he tried to hide it by averting his gaze, the freckled guy's grin widened. 

"Oh, shit. You don't know. Jonathan and the princess skipped yesterday -- still haven't shown." He leaned against the metal pipe in the centre of the shower room. "But that must just be a coincidence, right?"

After their argument last year. Tommy found himself joyous that, even after choosing Nancy, she still didn't want him. He enjoyed the fall just as much as Billy, and he wasn't even here for it, which he found to be a pity. Tommy cackled, turning his shower off before walking away. 

As much as he loathed the freckled boy, Billy felt inclined to agree. "Don't take it too hard, man." He advised. Despite being a year younger than Steve, he had more experience when it came to girls. "A pretty boy like you has got nothing to worry about. Plenty of bitches in the sea."

Steve continued to ignore him, rubbing shampoo through his luscious locks. He just wanted to be alone -- to be out of the limelight for once.

He briefly angled his head away. "Well, all except for my sister, that is."

That caught his attention. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," he turned the shower dial, shutting off his water as he was in the midst of scrubbing his scalp, "stay away from her, Harrington," Billy warned him, his smirk twisting into a tight scowl. "If I see you near her again, I'll break that pretty face of yours." Steve struggled to retain his composure, unnerved by Hargrove's threat. "Then you'll get no bitches." 

He'd heard about what happened at the party. Because of his brutality, Billy almost broke someone's nose. The guy was lucky to walk away without suffering a concussion. It only made Steve wonder what the new kid in town was capable of.

"But don't worry," After a light-hearted slap on the back, he started to leave, but not before adopting a challenging tone of voice, "I'll be sure to leave you some."

Steve Harrington had never been more infuriated towards a single person. He'd never held this much disdain before, especially when it came to a guy he'd barely known for a week.

Once everyone was gone, Steve smacked the dial, drenching himself. He ran his fingers through his thick locks of hair, twisting the pieces that curled naturally. His lips pressed together, deep in thought.

Nothing was the same anymore. The once-great Steve Harrington had lost his crown, his reputation, and his girlfriend within a year. What did he have left except the kindness of a stranger -- a girl who took pity on the fallen king?

***

The number of assignments teachers gave out on a daily basis was piling up. She'd finished her French homework the night before with support from Robin's notes, but Sophie learned that her other classes sought to test her knowledge. Her old school in San Diego wasn't the best place for a decent education, so the work they were handing her was jarring.

Sophie wasn't the smartest girl, but she also wasn't the dumbest. Sometimes, finding the right answers can be difficult, and it's hard putting words to paper under pressure. Chaotic thoughts, wild and impertinent, would flood her brain at all the wrong times.

She was supposed to be doing something worthwhile with her time -- something that would get her a good career. But every time she thought about what she wanted to do, Sophie told herself she'd figure it out.

For now, she was back in the library, working through textbook after textbook. It was tedious to copy tiny black words on a page and twist them into readable notes, but she was getting through it. The end of the day was drawing closer, and she dreaded going home with Billy again. There was something about the topic that didn't sit quite right in her guts, or maybe that was from the lack of food. She skipped lunch to study, and Sophie didn't even pack anything to nibble on.

Her last period was study hall, and though she tried her best to concentrate on her schoolwork, her stomach wouldn't stop rumbling. It was too late to buy something from the cafeteria, and there weren't many vending machines for her to use. Her left leg bounced up and down as she pressed her palm against her forehead, struggling to retain her focus on human classification.

If she knew something about humanity -- they were beings crafted from idiocracy. Why they were chosen to evolve over other species, Sophie could not understand. Why was she here? What did the world have planned for her?

She slammed the book shut, gritting her teeth. Sophie couldn't take it anymore, it was all driving her insane. She needed a break from the books, and besides, she had the entire weekend left to finish her assignments.

Sophie stood up, swinging her bag over her shoulder before grabbing the textbooks she'd borrowed. One by one, she returned them to their respective shelves, slotting them between damaged and older copies.

However, when she placed the Biology textbook back on its shelf, her attention was drawn to a darker corner of the room, far away from prying eyes. A teenage boy sat in the study space, and though his back was turned, Sophie recognised the hair in an instant.

Of course, it wouldn't take long for her to cross paths with Steve Harrington again. For a small town, the high school was even smaller; no wonder there was only one in the area.

She was about to turn away, intending to forget she'd seen him at all -- until she recalled what happened earlier with her stepmother. Sophie felt remorse for the older woman, her original judgements turning on their heel as she saw Susan for who she truly was; a kind mother.

Her assumptions of Steve were clouding her judgement once more. Perhaps he could help her or at least understand her torment. Pushing him away when he was trying to thank her was the wrong move. Maybe she should-

No, she thought, he'd never believe you.

Her father's words rang through her head, squashing any hope of confessing the abuse she suffered by his hand. She wasn't even sure if she could trust this guy with that kind of information. From the looks of it, his only parental issue was neglect.

But talking to him wouldn't hurt. Sophie could talk to him about anything in the world, and it seemed like he needed a friend -- that's all she needed to be.

His elbows were settled on the table, the border of his hands cradling his chin. He rubbed his broad jawline, staring down at a scribbled piece of paper. As she drew closer, she could slightly make out words, but most of them were written over or scratched out. It was a mess -- he was a mess.

It definitely didn't look like schoolwork. "Shouldn't you be studying, Tom Cruise?"

His head shot up, flinching at the sound of her voice. Steve turned around, placing a hand on his chest. "Jesus!" 

They just couldn't stop startling each other. She took a step back, clutching the strap of her shoulder bag. "Sorry." 

He double-backed, narrowing his eyes. "Tom Cruise?"

"I didn't feel like saying "Steve". It's kinda a bland name," she gave a half-clenched smile, "no offence."

Steve rolled his eyes, bending his elbow and placing it on the back of his chair, getting a proper look at her. Although he noticed her bruise was now covered up, he didn't try to acknowledge it again. "Okay, Malibu Barbie."

Her mouth fell open. "You actually remember calling me that?"

"Being drunk doesn't equal memory loss." Well, in Nancy's case, it did. That only made things worse for him. He pursed his lips, lowering his head in defeat. "It's hard to forget that night, to be honest."

She shuffled closer, getting a better look at his paper. "Is that your admissions essay?"

"It's a work in progress." He admitted, waving a swift hand towards it. "This would be so much easier if..." he lost his words. Steve turned away, hiding his pained expression. "... Never mind."

Clearly, he was struggling, and words may not be her strong suit, but Sophie could still lend a helping hand. "I think you should start again."

He sneered. "Why?"

"Because that's just a bunch of scribbles." She sighed, approaching the table. "You can't fix scribbles."

"It just needs some tweaking." Steve shrugged half-heartedly. "I'll write it out when I'm done."

There was hardly any room for tweaks or quick fixes, his words could hardly stay between the lines. "That's if you can still read it."

He grew rigid, glaring at her. "Is there something you wanted?"

His raised voice caught her off-guard, but she wasn't already used to being yelled at. She pressed her soles into the carpet, her chin dropping to her chest. "I wanted to say sorry."

"For what?" he wondered.

"Yesterday." She told him. "I didn't mean to act like that. I just get defensive sometimes..."

Immediately, Steve regretted his outburst. His expression softened, averting his gaze. "No, it's not your fault. I shouldn't have asked about the bruise. It's none of my business."

He wasn't wrong, but at least Steve understood why she wanted to keep it under wraps. She glanced at the empty chair beside him, asking. "Do you mind if I sit with you?"

His forehead wrinkled, frowning. "Are you sure?"

She hadn't expected that response, her brows furrowing. "Why do you say that?"

"Because your lovely brother told me to stay away from you." The corner of his lip tightened, releasing an exaggerated sigh.

She should have known it would only be a matter of time until Billy interfered with her life again. In fact, she bet he said the same to Harley since, whenever he saw her in the halls, the boy would scamper away and pretend he never saw her. Or perhaps he just wanted to forget throwing up on her at the party.

Either way, her brother made sure no man would touch her. Otherwise, they would have hell to pay.

"I don't need Billy to protect me." Sophie loosened her shoulders, sulking beside him. "It's isolating."

He opened his palms, staring back at her. "Look, he said he'd beat me up if I went near you again, and I'd prefer to keep my face intact."

"Well, he's not here right now. He wouldn't be seen dead in a library." She pulled the chair out, peering behind them for a brief moment. "We'll have to be discreet, though. He's got a few fans now."

As she sat down, he let out a soft chuckle. If Sophie was right, then there was nothing to be afraid of. Besides, her brother wasn't forcing her to stay away from him, so if he had a bone to pick, then it would be with her. Finally, they could speak with sober minds.

She gestured to his essay. "Can I read it?"

Steve gave her a look. "Aren't you a junior?"

Her eyes widened, scoffing. "Does that affect my reading ability?"

"No, of course not." He shook his head, leaning his chin against the bridge of his wrist.

His awkward reaction continued to prove her point. "And you know, Nancy's a junior, too, so..."

He hesitated, tilting his head to the right. "Yeah, sorry."

Sophie's lips curved into a smirk. "You should be." 

With two fingers, she dragged the essay towards her with a sort of delicate grace, ensuring the already crinkled paper didn't tear. She tucked a long strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. Despite the mess of words, his handwriting wasn't too hard to decipher. Steve tapped his front teeth in anticipation, worried about what she might think.

Sophie skimmed through the jumbled sections, taking in every phrase and sentence. "Why are you comparing basketball to World War Two?"

He unfurled the fingers on his raised hand. "Well, we both won."

"But there's, like, a huge difference." She acknowledged. "You dropped a ball in the net, and they dropped bombs in Japan."

Steve stammered. "You -- you don't drop balls. You throw them. It's how it works."

That's the part he was concerned about?

Her mouth was downturned. "Don't ruin my joke, Harrington."

His brows drew together, slightly squinting. "That was a joke?"

She huffed, leaning back in her chair. "I know it was a bit dark, but, hey, so was blowing up Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Like, we shouldn't have those kinds of weapons."

"Oh, I see." He recalled an earlier conversation of theirs from Halloween. "You're a pacifist as well as a communist."

"I don't believe in war, okay?" she folded her arms, her gaze shifting. "Violence isn't healthy. I should know."

He thought about the bruise again, knowing she was hiding it for good reason. But he shouldn't pry. Like he said, it wasn't his business and Steve shouldn't be asking those questions. When Jonathan beat him up the year before, rumours spread like wildfire and, in the eyes of his peers, they no longer saw him as the Alpha. 

If a god could bleed -- it meant they could be killed.

Steve pulled his essay draft back towards him, his voice devoid of emotion. "Nancy said to cut out that bit, too."

"Well, she's right." She responded.

It wasn't something he wanted to hear; he hated being wrong, especially when it came to Nancy's feelings for him. "I should really listen to her more."

Do you think I'm bullshit? The question he asked echoed in the dark recesses of her memories. She didn't know Nancy very well, but Sophie could tell she wasn't a bad person. Her emotions might have not been genuine half the time, yet she was trying her best to keep herself afloat and smiling. 

Steve might have been happy with her -- but she wasn't happy being with him.

"Listen, you need this essay to focus on yourself." Sophie threw her bag onto her lap. "Colleges don't wanna know stuff about your grandpa. They want to know who you are, and why they should accept you." 

She barely thought about college herself, even though it was over a year and a half away. Everyone expected to her decide where she wanted to go, but she didn't even know if she wanted to go at all. 

"You know, talk more about your aspirations. What do you want to do with your life?" questioned Sophie.

He looked up, pausing before his eyes rapidly darted back and forth. Steve gulped, biting the inside of his cheek. "... I don't know."

Her body slouched forward, her face blank. "Well, that's a terrific start."

"I just..." He leaned back, brushing his fingers through his still-damp hair. "... I might go into my dad's business in the future."

She was sceptical of his possible career path. "You don't seem too excited by that prospect."

"What else am I good for?" he flung his arms out. "I can't play basketball all my life."

Sophie clasped her hands together, using her feet to slide the chair closer to the table. "Then what else are you good at?"

He pressed his lips into a fine line, taking a few seconds to think. "Baseball."

The answer wasn't enough for her. "And?"

Steve paused again, examining his options in his head -- there weren't many. "... Swimming."

This was going harder than she thought. "Okay, anything other than sport?"

Besides monster fighting, yeah, he wasn't good at this. And he wasn't exactly the best at studying either, which only lessened his prospects. "You know when someone asks you what your favourite movie is, and you just blank?"

"You just need to think a little more." Her assurance was comforting, but it was not enough for him.

His facial muscles went slack, considering a final option. "I think I'll just drive my car off a bridge."

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Either way, she wasn't going to let that happen. "You can do that if you want." Sophie stood back on her feet, pushing her chair aside. "But how about you drive me home instead?"

He glanced to his left, his nose creasing. "What?"

Sophie shrugged as she adjusted the strap of her bag again. "I don't feel like going home with Billy today."

As she lightly swung it over her shoulder, Steve. "Wouldn't your brother disapprove?"

Oh, most definitely. Yet, at this point, she didn't care. As long as he didn't see her with him, they could do whatever they wanted.

"Not if we go now." She said. "I mean, this is just a study period, and that always means teachers don't care what we do."

This girl was throwing him through a loop -- both Hargroves were. What did their parents feed them back in California, pure adrenaline?

He stayed in his seat. "You seriously wanna ditch?"

"Technically, it's not ditching if no one's taking registration, which means it isn't a compulsory lesson." No one was checking up on them, and the worst thing that could happen would be getting caught out for not having a hall pass. "Look, you clearly need some fresh air, and I need someone to show me around town because I keep getting lost."

Steve gestured to his unfinished draft. "I really gotta finish this."

"You need oxygen in your brain." He was never going to get anything done if he was worrying about all the wrong things. "Just drive me home," she begged, "please?"

Sophie Hargrove was saying all the right things. If he continued to sit here and wallow, he'd never get anything done. This school was suffocating, and he couldn't stand feeling like the fallen king anymore.

A prolonged sigh escaped his throat. "Okay."

She waited with a small smile as he gathered his things, stuffing his work into his backpack. Patches of worn and discoloured fabric stood out to her as Sophie watched, picking her nails in anticipation. 

Then another stomach rumble made itself known, much louder than before. She froze, as did Steve. He turned to her. "Was that you?"

At least it wasn't something more embarrassing. "Er, I haven't eaten in a few hours. It's fine."

He hung his backpack over his right shoulder. "We can grab something from the general store if you want."

Sophie shook her head. "No, it's fine."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather not have your guts screaming for the whole drive." Steve needed a distraction, but not an annoying one. He started to walk away, beckoning her to follow. "Come on -- I'll pay."

She could feel her guts pleading with her to eat something, and though she didn't want to, Sophie felt inclined to accept his offer. "Okay."

***

They were playing Pheobe Bridgers in HMV today so I felt compelled to finish this. I don't think it's as long as the other chapters, but I hope that's not a bad thing.

The writers are on strike but I'm not... mostly because I live in England and don't get paid to write fanfiction. If I was, I'd be rich. But it is important that writers like you and me are treated with respect and are paid fairly. Stories are the very soul of her film and television show -- a script is the blueprint and that shouldn't be ignored. Please support those on the picket line, my loves.

Sophie has some traits of a manic pixie dream girl, but she is more than just a trope. She is drawn to lost souls like herself, wanting to help them because she cannot help herself. What I'm trying to say is that she has complexity like Summer in 500 Days of Summer. You can tell I'm studying film.

Also, I saw a picture of Nancy's diary and it literally says that her relationship with Steve wasn't anything serious, which meant she only saw it as a prolonged fling. Poor boy was in an unrequited relationship the entire time :(

Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. Please make sure to leave a vote and pop a comment anywhere here because I love interacting with you all and seeing how you react to what I've written.

- Alice.