Chapter Fifty-Three: You're Not Bullshit

(Trick Or Treat, Freak, Pt. 5)

***

The music from Steve's radio filled up the silence that neither teen was willing to break. Rowan leaned her head against the window, watching the streets of Hawkins blur by, the streetlights lining the sidewalk beacons of light in the dark. A singer Rowan didn't recognise sang from the speakers, voice and music incredibly bubblegum pop to her heavy metal, rock n' roll and folk ears; she resisted the urge to change the station to, hopefully, something more appealing. In the driver's seat, out of her peripheral vision, Steve clutched his steering wheel tight, eyes trained on the shadowed road ahead of them, jaw tight. The picture of looking like he was trying to keep from falling to pieces.

Rowan frowned, her concern rising, especially when it became clear Steve had no idea where he was driving them.

"Harrington, do you know where you're going?" Rowan asked, voice soft, lacking her usual bite.

Steve's shoulders tensed, before they relaxed by a fraction and he let out a stilted sigh. "No. But that doesn't really matter, right? Like anything I do really matters, it's all bullshit."

The concern twisted in Rowan, and the dark-haired teen scooted as close as she could, taking a hold of the wheel. "Okay. I'm taking over now."

Steve twisted to her, shock briefly erasing that heartbroken look. "What? Since when do you have a licence, Graveswood? Wait, do you have a licence?"

"No," Rowan admitted, "but, I know a place that might help. Unless you want to keep driving aimlessly all night?"

Steve looked at her, brown eyes staring into her blue ones for such a long moment, it felt time had been suspended for that single stare, that the world had shuddered away and it was only them and that look that said so much and yet so little.

But held gazes and bubbled moments weren't meant to last, were meant to shatter and fade away like they never happened. Steve proved that when he looked away, eyes once more trained on the road, his voice rougher as he said, "No, I... I don't. Where's this place, Graveswood?"

Rowan sat back in her seat, ignoring the weird twist in her stomach as she looked out the window, squinting into the darkness outside.

"Take a right here."

Steve did so, frowning in puzzlement, listening to Rowan as she lead him to the woods. Once they did, she said, "Stop."

Steve did, parking the car. The engine idled as the BMW's headbeams sliced the darkness, illuminating the stretch of trees beyond.

"Uh, this isn't creepy at all," Steve noted sarcastically, but Rowan ignored him, opening the car door.

"Come on, Harrington," she said, tramping up to the woods, ignoring how he stared at her like she'd lost her mind.

"Graveswood, you're not seriously going in there?" he asked as he opened the door, sticking his head out.

"Yeah, I am. Trust me, Harrington," she said, turning to Steve. In honesty, the woods still gave her the creeps, especially at night, and especially since the Upside Down—when she'd crawled into the gate the Demogorgon had left behind, when she and Nancy were almost killed, where her lightning and brass knuckles had been the only things to save her life—but she didn't care about that particular. Right now, she just wanted to head to the one place that always helped her.

Steve frowned, wrestling with whether to follow her into the woods or not, before he sighed and got out of the car, jogging up to her.

"I swear, if this a plan to lure me into the woods and murder me or something..." he muttered.

Rowan quirked up a smile. "Harrington, if I wanted to murder you, I would have done it by now."

Steve chuckled lowly. "Yeah, and probably by barbecuing me."

Rowan's smile dropped and she said in a softer voice, "I promise, Harrington, it's something good. Trust me."

Steve looked at her, the same way he'd looked at her in the car, when they were dancing before the fun and happiness had soured, on the bleachers a day ago, and murmured, "Graveswood, there's no one else I trust more."

Rowan stared at Steve, her heart flickering with an emotion she couldn't decipher.

It's because we used to be enemies, she told herself. You're surprised he said that. That's all.

Still, she had to look away and clear her throat before she said, "Follow me, Harrington."

She didn't need to look behind her to see Steve was, was right behind her as they descended into the woods.

Still, it was a relief when she heard him mutter, "Fuck, I can't see shit. Hey, Graveswood, I didn't bring a flashlight. Did you?"

"No need to," Rowan said as she cracked a smile, feeling her power spike through her and outward, veins lighting up a brilliant blue as sparks scattered across her body, strands of her hair lifting from the static charge, eyes glowing a more electric shade of their natural blue, using her power in a way that felt as natural as breathing, lighting up the darkness around them. "I'm my own flashlight."

She looked at Steve, as he stared at her, then grinned.

"Well, that's certainly useful," he said. "Even though you do look like a walking talking flashlight."

"That the best you got, Harrington?" Rowan teased, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Actually, I change my mind. I think giant glow stick is better," Steve returned, a ghost of a grin tugging at his mouth.

Rowan rolled her eyes, taking the good-natured insult with her own hidden grin as she started walking forward again.

Before they could make any progress, however, Rowan felt a shift in the air, and she looked to see Steve reaching for her hand. She immediately jerked away. "Harrington! Don't touch me."

"Why?" he asked, frowning, like he was genuinely confused.

"Uh, because right now I'm literally a human live wire?" Rowan said, spreading her arms wide, as if to emphasise the sparks still skittering along them, the electrical light radiating through her skin and lighting her veins up blindingly neon-blue. "If you touch me while I'm like this, at best I'll zap you. At worst, I could give you a heart attack."

Steve's eyes widened and he instantly retracted his hand. "Okay. Right. No touching. So, um, how can I stay with you when we go to this place in the woods?"

"Just follow me. I'm literally the brightest thing in these entire fucking woods," Rowan said as she continued walking forward, her electricity lighting up the shadows with bluish light.

Steve did as she said, following behind her, his light in the dark, as if it was already natural, like he would always follow Rowan's beacon of light in the darkness around them, leading him to safety.

Ironic, that Rowan could be both hurricane and safe harbour at once.

They walked for what felt like hours in the woods, Rowan leading them through the dark, pulsating with bluish electric light. The woods were alive with noise, but Rowan could hear the static sound of lightning the most, zinging across her skin in an energy that warned that she was not to be touched at risk you'd electrocute yourself, crackling in time with her heartbeat, chaotic and wild and yet completely in her control. She wondered if Steve could hear it, too, that stinging and zapping noise that sounded both discordant and harmonised at once, the music of a force of a nature Rowan could control, could harness its power. She wondered if that scared him. 

She hoped it didn't.

When they finally arrived, Rowan didn't need to see the unimpressed look on Steve's face when he saw where they were.

"It's just a clearing," he said.

"Yes," Rowan confirmed as she turned to Steve, saw his folded arms and, yes, that unimpressed look on his face. "But trust me, this place is good."

"How is it good, Graveswood? It's literally just a clearing in the woods."

"Because this is where I usually come to when my emotions are on high," Rowan revealed. At Steve's raised eyebrow, she amended, "Higher than they usually are. I come here to either let off stress, or take out my anger and fear on the trees around me. Where if I felt like I was losing control, I could just... let out all this electricity without worrying it was hurting anyone."

She pointed to a log in the centre of the clearing—a log with a blackened, spidery mark across its aged bark, a lightning scar forever branded in the wood, a scar that was cut off at the bottom, before she pointed at the stump with the missing end of the scar. "One time I let out enough power to have that crack in half."

Steve's eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"Yeah, holy shit," Rowan concurred, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But that last part... that was all true a year ago. Now, I just come here to vent, or just... sit on this log and stargaze for a bit and cool off. Or forget, whether it's shit that happened, everything with Brenner or... or the Upside Down. And practice my powers where no one could see me. After all, it's pretty secluded. Not even my brother or aunt know about it."

Looking at Steve, she finished, "I suggested this place, because if you want to let out any emotions or need to vent or forget... you can do it here. I'll listen without any judgement."

Steve looked at her, and Rowan could see he was surprised and touched she'd shown him her secret place, just so he could let out his emotions, that she would listen to him with no judgement.

The teen gave a jerky nod and moved to the log Rowan had felled with a surge two years ago, and only a year ago did she use her telekinesis to move it into the centre of the clearing to watch the stars and calm her mind after a nightmare or when she thought she was back there, the air cold and rotting, the Demogorgon inches away, and she needed to see the stars, needed to know she was here. It had created a love for stargazing, an activity Rowan knew she was probably horrible at, but she didn't care, the stars providing comfort and calm for her. Rowan joined him, sitting a good foot away on the spacious trunk as she concentrated on coalescing all that electricity into one, crackling ball of sparks and light, letting it float above their heads and providing bluish white light that collided with the light of the stars and moon, shining through the haze of light pollution.

Steve eyed the ball of lightning floating above their heads. "That's new. Is it new?"

"It's new," Rowan said as she wiped a trickle of blood from her nose. "I didn't know I could do that until I started testing it out."

"Why didn't you do that earlier?"

"It's easier to be a walking flashlight. That little ball takes a lot of energy and concentration to keep it from exploding."

Now Steve was looking at her in concern, but Rowan was having none of it, taking Steve's hand in hers. He winced slightly at the lingering sparks still flickering on her skin, but it wasn't dangerous, not like earlier.

Rowan squeezed his hand and asked softly, "What happened, Steve?"

Steve looked at her, and Rowan's heart constricted at seeing how shattered Steve looked, like his heart had been torn out and cruelly stomped on, before his face shuttered and he turned from her, pulling his hand free from hers, muttering, "Nancy... we talked. In the bathroom."

Rowan frowned. She had a feeling that it was more than just "talking", especially with that look Steve had earlier. She gently nudged him with her knee, the act feeling so natural, that gentle prodding to encourage him to talk when words failed her, to let him know she was here.

Steve seemed to register it too, because as he hunched down, looking right at the ground, he began speaking, the words streaming out like a dam that had broken, turning harsh and stilted the more he spoke.

"We... she began talking about how we killed Barb, that I wanted this by pretending everything was fine and normal, as if anything after all that shit is normal now, that it's all bullshit, that our love's bullshit, that I... that I'm bullshit."

Steve's voice cracked, and his body shuddered like he was doing everything he could to keep it together, to not cry in front of Rowan even as she could practically hear his heart breaking again. The urge to comfort Steve rose up in her—an unfamiliar urge, yet at once it was also familiar, like they hadn't literally been enemies a year ago—and though Rowan knew Nancy was probably drunk, probably acting on her grief and guilt over Barb and rage that nothing would be done for her and give her despondent parents closure, she couldn't help but feel a stab of anger at her friend for hurting Steve in the process, especially since—as shocking as it felt—he didn't deserve that.

Not when he was one word or movement away from shattering completely.

"Maybe she's right," Steve said, snapping Rowan out of her thoughts, and the girl looked to see Steve was looking up, staring into space, his face twisted, eyes filmy with tears he wouldn't shed as he ran a hand through his hair, disturbing the carefully messed strands as they fell over his face, breaking the image of a carefree, charming teen heartthrob and revealing the brokenhearted boy he really was. "Maybe this was all bullshit, that our love was bullshit. That... that I'm bullshit. It's all... bullshit."

Steve spat the word out, but instead of it being venomous, it came out broken, wobbling with unshed tears, with the bone-deep sorrow only someone who has loved another with everything in them could feel when that person they love broke their heart and spat back that love like it meant nothing. Last year, it had been Nancy, and what Steve and those assholes had done with the theatre. Now...

Now, it was Nancy doing the hurting, and Steve was the one hurt more because, to Rowan, he loved Nancy more than she loved him.

Before she realised what was happening, Rowan moved closer, sighing heavily as she said, "You're not bullshit."

Steve looked at her, confusion making his brows scrunch, at war with the glassy look in his eyes. "What?"

"Listen, Steve, it has shocked me—really, it has—but you're... great. I mean, you can be a jerk at times, but in the year we've stopped being enemies and became friends, ever since you saved my life and we mutually apologised, I've gotten to know you, the you that doesn't have Tommy H and Carol around and isn't obsessed with popularity. And that person is a really great, really awesome, really sweet guy," Rowan confessed, heaving a breath. "Which, like I said, is shocking because we were literally enemies, but it's nice getting to know what is apparently the real you. And the real you is not bullshit, and never has been. So don't you dare think of yourself like that because it isn't true. And I'll shock you if you think like that again."

Steve stared at her, looking at her with emotions Rowan couldn't really identify, the bluish white light of the electric ball above them playing across the planes of his face, making his brown eyes look darker, as the light made hers look brighter. 

Rowan sighed and went on, "And besides, Nancy was drunk when she said all that. She probably didn't mean anything that she said. And if she did, then... she's wrong. Because like I said, you're not bullshit. And..."

Rowan drew in a breath, her shoulders trembling slightly as she whispered, "And you and Nance weren't the ones to kill Barb—I was. I was right there, with her, in that fucking pool in the fucking Upside Down, and if I hadn't been so worried about hiding my powers, if I thought it was just a dream and that Barb wouldn't know, I could have used my powers and fry the Demogorgon or teleport us away or pull her out of the pool. If I had just done something more..."

Rowan's throat worked and the burn of tears came. She pushed them down as she finished in a hoarse whisper, crackling with guilt, "If I'd done something more, she would still be alive. Not rotting in that fucking place and her parents not worrying themselves to death and spending the rest of their lives looking for her. She would still be alive."

Silence came, stretching between the teens, before Rowan felt a shoulder bumping into her. The dark-haired teen looked to see Steve staring at her, brown eyes full of warmth and compassion.

"It's not your fault, Rowan," he murmured. "Barb... it isn't your fault. If it isn't mine, or Nancy's, then it isn't yours. It isn't your fault."

Rowan's throat worked, and she forced out a watery laugh. "I came here for you to vent. Not... not for me to do the same."

"I know," Steve replied. 

Rowan tried for a smile. "Guess we both have our issues, Harrington."

"Guess so."

The two teens looked at each other, and just like in the car, it felt like space and time had condensed into that singular moment of them staring at each other, something crackling between them, like the charge of a storm—a charge only Steve felt. Rowan stared at Steve, Steve stared at Rowan, and the boy moved closer to her, but not like Hargrove had, not in a way that made her want to jump or sting him, but had her slightly curious to see what Steve would do.

But just like in the car, just like a soap bubble, shiny and ephemeral, it popped when Steve moved away, clearing his throat. Rowan moved away too, but not too far, looking up at the stars twinkling far above her, pinpricks of white in the dark expanse of night sky, before she whispered, "Thanks, Harrington. I... I think I needed to hear that."

"Same here, Graveswood," he murmured right back.

The two looked at each other, sharing a smile under the light of stars and a floating ball of electricity.

As she looked at Steve, Rowan asked, "Do you... do you wanna stargaze with me?"

Steve frowned. "Stargaze? That sounds kinda boring."

"Trust me, it isn't. It's actually really calming," Rowan replied. She tilted her head and asked, "Are you—is that doubt, Harrington?"

"Yes," was the instant response. "I have doubt that stargazing doesn't sound as lame as shit."

Rowan glared at Steve and gave him a light zap. He yelped, shaking his hand.

"It isn't lame. Not as lame as looking at yourself in the mirror for hours is, you vain idiot," she sniped as Steve glared at her, but none of those glares, not even the zap, had any real heat. In fact, it was comforting, to fall into this, into the banter and insults. It was comforting, familiar. It was nice.

Really nice.

The glare faded from Steve's face as he kept looking at her, before he said, "Guess you have to show me it isn't as lame as it sounds, Graveswood."

"Guess so, Harrington," Rowan replied, grinning before a jaw-cracking yawn splintered her smile, and only then did she feel the tiredness running sluggishly through her veins, at war with the electric feeling of using her powers buzzing through her veins.

Steve caught her yawn, concern shifting over his features. "You okay, Graveswood?"

"I'm fine. Just tired from the party and... this," she answered, pointing to the floating ball of crackling energy.

Steve frowned, before he stood, nudging her shoulder. "Okay, I think stargazing can wait. I'm gonna take you home."

Rowan's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. You literally look a second from sitting up sleeping, and I'm not having you pass out in the middle of the woods," Steve explained. He looked away as he added, "Besides, you're my only way out of here."

"Aww, Stevie. If I'd only known my use was living flashlight, I would have ended our enmity years ago," Rowan deadpanned, sardonic grin on her face. Steve scoffed, but he stepped away from her as Rowan let the ball of electricity come back to her, seep back into her skin and light her up, making her a live wire again.

"Come on," she said, jerking her head to the woods. "Let's get out of here."

She paused and added, "And thanks. For the ride."

"It's nothing," Steve said readily, coming as close as he could without being unintentionally zapped. His face shifted into something open, something raw as he went on, "And thanks for... for showing me this place. And listening."

Rowan smiled, said nothing as she resumed walking, as Steve followed right behind her, but words didn't need to be said.

They could feel it just as surely as feeling the charge before lightning struck.

The minute they made it out of the woods, Rowan's veins cooled down and her power faded, coiling inside her again, waiting to be used. Lightheadedness made her vision swim and blood trickled from her nose, dripping onto the dress. She stumbled and Steve caught her, not even wincing at the sparks still on her skin. She sent him a grateful smile as he helped her into his car, then got in and began driving to the trailer park, a pop song once more playing over the radio; only now could Rowan recognise he was a much safer driver than her aunt and Eddie were, a safer driver than she probably would be if she ever got her licence, since she was definitely going to be as fast and maniacal in driving as Aunt Aco and Eddie were. It gave Rowan a calmness, at how Steve was once more a parallel to her, a lover of mainstream and pop while she was rock and heavy metal, a tree to her storm, steady to her wild—which felt ironic, since Rowan had a sneaking suspicion Steve was the reckless one between them. Her only proof was him flinging himself back into beating the shit out of a monster with nothing but a baseball bat full of nails, but... it didn't make her suspicion fade. Nor lessen the parallels between them.

Opposites, yet not.

When they arrived at the trailer park, Rowan noticed Eddie was home. Shit. She'd forgotten about Eddie. She hoped he'd seen her get into Steve's car when he'd stood by the door, making sure she was okay, and not think she'd been kidnapped and murdered—actually, he'd probably think Steve had murdered her, which she hoped he didn't because if he did then he didn't know her, because she'd be the murderer who left Steve's body in the woods—and therefore worry himself to death. Rowan made a mental note that, after Steve left, she let Eddie know she was fine.

Still, she didn't get out, turning to Steve as she said, "Thanks, Harrington. For taking me back home."

"It's fine," Steve said back as he looked at her home—at the sign advertising her aunt's... career, the prices attached, the trailer that looked a bit beat up but was a home she, Alistair and Aunt Aco wouldn't trade for, and Rowan remembered this was the first time Steve had probably seen her home, possibly the first time he'd ever come to Forest Hills. Again, opposites—rich and poor, the Loch Nora suburbs and Forest Hills trailer park, his parents wealthy and having successful careers that left Steve alone in a big, empty house, her parents dead and her aunt a con artist and yet she and Alistair knew nothing but warmth and love and a home in that trailer.

"Your home is... nice," Steve said.

"Thanks," Rowan replied. 

She grabbed the door, making to open it before Steve spoke again.

"And thanks again, Graveswood, for... for earlier. I think I needed that."

Turning, Rowan said softly, "Glad I could help. And I... I think I needed it, too.."

They looked at each other, before Steve cleared his throat and asked, "See you tomorrow at school?"

"Yeah, for sure. See you tomorrow."

Steve looked at her, the emotions on his face unreadable, then turned away from her. Rowan took that as the initiative to get out, closing the door behind her and walking the steps up to her home.

She heard tyres squealing—not as loud as her aunt's or Eddie's, but still loud in the almost-silent trailer park—and looked over her shoulder to see Steve drive out, then away, back to Kerley and his own house.

Rowan watched him go before she headed back down the steps and made her way to Eddie's, knocking on the door.

The door opened, and she saw Eddie standing there, out of his costume and in sweatpants and a Judas Priest shirt, confusion melting into relief at seeing her.

"Oh thank God. You're okay," he murmured.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Rowan affirmed, smiling. It dropped as she apologised, "I'm sorry for worrying you, especially after what happened with... Hargrove."

Anger twisted Eddie's face at the mention of the bastard, before he sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah. But I'm just happy that you're okay."

"Me too," Rowan admitted. She raised her closed hand for a fist bump. "We good?"

Eddie looked at her before he smiled and returned the fist bump. "Yeah, we're good."

The two friends stood there before Eddie said, "Hey, you look pretty tired, Graveswood. I think you should get some sleep."

Rowan nodded, stifling a yawn. "Yeah, I... I think I might do that. See you at school tomorrow, Munson?"

"Yeah," her best friend confirmed. "Night, Graveswood."

"Night, Eddie," she replied as Eddie closed the door and she walked back to her trailer.

Opening the door, she half-expected her aunt to be awake, sitting on the raggedy couch, or at least her brother snoring on the couch, crashing down from a sugar high. But it was silent inside, so Rowan assumed that her family was asleep. Which made the next series of tasks harder to do since the walls were fucking thin and the pipes were disagreeably loud at best.

Still, Rowan undressed, showered and got as much of the fake blood off her, brushed her teeth and changed into her pyjamas as quietly as possible, with some success since her aunt or brother didn't come out bleary-eyed and asking questions—not that Aunt Aco would ask that much questions anyway—especially her brother since out of the three of them, he was the lighter sleeper given his nightmares and how he hardly got to sleep after them. And while the nightmares seemed to abate, her brother's habit of not easily falling to sleep never left; Rowan was honestly considering he was an insomniac or something.

When Rowan finally crawled into bed, sinking into the comfort of her bed and the sheets atop her, eyes fluttering closed, she thought about the party, the fun she had before it was derailed by spilled punch and a bastard by the name of Billy Hargrove, and then what happened between her and Steve in the clearing, of friends being open and vulnerable and comforting each other.

Nothing more than that.

***

Stowaaaaannnnnn....

Like I said, I LOVED this chapter! I loved writing Rowan and Steve and them being more comfortable/showing Rowan being more comfortable with her powers (since it is, arguably, her most dangerous one because, like ELECTRICITY??) And Steve following Rowan because she is his light in the dark and he'll always follow her to lead him to safety?? 🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰

And the moment where they talk!! I think Nancy calling Steve "bullshit" really affected Steve (especially when he did really love her) more than it was shown in canon, so I wanted to show it here, and have Rowan assure Steve he isn't bullshit and a really great person, before she revealed the depths of her survivor's guilt over Barb and Steve comforted her and said it wasn't her fault. And the whole fact Rowan showed Steve her secret place where she goes to vent and let loose some stress or anger (and some surges when she lost control) and to practice her powers or to just stargaze and forget about her trauma/nightmares with the Upside Down and Brenner and be calmed by the stars... can you tell I'm soft for them? 🥺

And the stares and the talk of stargazing and them being opposites yet still coming together!! Again, I'm soft for them (also, potential stargazing "date"?? 👀)

Also, quick reminder: since Rowan is asexual, she wouldn't have felt any sexual tension/attraction during that scene on the log. And because she's demiromantic, she wouldn't have felt any romantic feelings, yet, too. However, maybe that might change... Still, keep in mind Rowan's sexual and romantic orientation

I also loved that moment of friendship between Rowan and Eddie! Probably understated due to Stowan, but I still loved writing it :3

See you all next chapter! This time, it's with my other fave pair—Alistair and Will!! <3 <3

Please read, comment and vote!

GhostWriterGirl out!