Apocalypse, Steve Harrington

SEVENTY-TWO
— PRE SEASON FOUR

      LAST SPRING, STEVE AND HIS FAMILY WENT TO MEXICO.

      They went on vacation every spring-break for as long as Steve could remember — freshman year it was the Bahamas, sophomore year Palm Beach, junior year Hawaii. When school started back up, he'd show up burnt like a fucking lobster, his shoulders all red and blistered and the skin on his face peeling at his nose and apples-of-his-cheeks. Year after year, it was the same. Lucy would make fun of him for it, and slap his red and burnt back so a giant white handprint would be left on his sensitive skin, and he'd howl and arch in pain. She'd laugh, and he'd scoff and say something along the lines of, "who's gonna be laughing when this burn turns me bronze, Hop?", and he'd swear up-and-down that the raw pink of his skin would turn into some sort-of marvelous tan. It never did — Steve kind-of just immediately went back to being pale, but his skin would always be covered in more freckles and beauty-marks than before. She looked forward to the end of spring-break every year just to see him be forced to lather his skin in aloe-vera.

      So in eighty-five, it was Cancun. Steve got his passport updated and asked Lucy to help him pack his bags, because this was the last trip he'd be forced to go on with his parents. She picked out all sorts of funny button-downs, ones with palm trees and coconuts on them, and, wow, she'd never forget the swim-trunks he chose — bright pink with little bananas covering the legs and butt. He put on these stupid black sunglasses, even for the airport, and he told her he'd take plenty of photos (he only took one). They left the day break started, and came back the day it ended — it was probably the loneliest spring-break ever, she'd admit.

      Jim never took them on vacations. Which, honestly, she didn't really complain about. A flight across the country and sunburnt shoulders honestly didn't seem appealing, not to Danny or Lucy, or even to Eleven. They spent their breaks — Christmas break, spring-break, even summer-break — comfy in the cabin with their feet kicked up and their heads leaned back. Not on some wild excursion in Mexico or Hawaii, not roasting on the beach with a pound of sunblock lathered across their noses. Lucy genuinely liked being home, she liked sleeping until three PM and soaking up every bit of boredom before school started back-up — until eighty-five. She wanted to be in Mexico with Steve.

      It was driving her insane. This, the ache and wanting to be away with him, she'd never experienced it before. They had only been officially together since December, and she could easily be apart from him for two-weeks . . . right? It was just a little-bit pathetic, the sitting around in bed with her head in her hands, counting down the days until school started. She wanted SCHOOL to start. SCHOOL, so she could see Steve everyday again. How absurd?

      When the Harrington's flight landed, she was waiting for him at Indianapolis International. It had been the plan all along — she'd wait by the baggage claim, and he'd probably sprint there before his parents did so he could sweep her off her fucking feet. She remembers sitting on the uncomfortable metal chairs, one leg crossed over the other and her hands in her lap as she picked at the skin around her thumb. She watched each person walk by, each family come and claim their luggage as they returned home from whatever trip they had taken. He was one of the last from the Cancun flight to deplane — his nose was burnt and the smile spread across his lips was boyish and uncontrollable. Steve hugged her like his life depended on it, like they had been apart for a lot longer than two-weeks, and he gave her a little flower bracelet he bought while he was there.