𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜

𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚜, "𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎."

𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚝𝚊

𝙵𝚊𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠

𝙼𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚙 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐

𝚁𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙻𝚘𝚛𝚍.

𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚜 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚎

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎.

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚖𝚢 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍

𝚃𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎, "𝙶𝚘 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎."

When Lennon walked into her house with a storage container in hand, she was immediately met with Steve's stare from around the kitchen bend.

His hair was tousled from sliding his fingers through it too many times and his eyes were big with incredulity.

"Where the hell have you been?" he aspirated, walking out of the kitchen and sighing a breath of relief.

"I..." she began quirking up an eyebrow and pausing to shoot him a look of confusion. "I was hanging out with a friend... Why the hell are you here?" she wondered.

"Brontë has been out looking all over for you!" Steve shouted nervously. "Billy's been in a car accident and everybody's been worried about you because you were supposed to be with him last night-!"

"Hey, whoa," she interrupted him with furrowed brows. "Billy was in an accident?"

She had to pretend like she didn't know because she couldn't exactly tell him how she figured that out. She couldn't tell him she was on a semi-date with Eddie Munson and happened to drive past Benny's Burgers when they were talking about him.

Steve explained what Max and Neil already said about Billy but Lennon tried her best to act surprised. Afterward, she asked what Brontë was doing outside of work but all Steve would tell her is that he was worried about her; that he worried she might do something stupid if she found out her boyfriend was in an accident with another girl. It was a lot to take in but it was less complicated from Lennon's perspective.

She was worried about Billy because she cared about him but she didn't like him that way. She wanted Billy with Tina. The fact they were together didn't bother her except now, she knew they were in an accident, and for that, she hated herself for wanting something so badly.

She went to Eddie's because she had to apologize and she wanted to ask about all the horrible stuff Brontë warned her about but she didn't escape because of Billy. She wasn't heartbroken like they thought and she wasn't freaking out because he was hurt or because it could have been her instead. She only left because of what Brontë said about Eddie.

It was simple in Lennon's head. She could only imagine what her brother must have thought. After getting into an argument with her, a bad one, then find out she wasn't home after learning about her supposed boyfriend being in a car accident with another girl.

But that wasn't the case.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here," Lennon added, seeing that Steve's hyperactive mind was jumping around different topics.

Steve laughed incredulously and ran his fingers through his hair again. "He had his shift covered when it hit the news and called the house but you didn't pick up," Steve explained hastily. "He had to go back but he's out somewhere lookin' for you!"

Lennon's heart dropped, knowing that if Brontë managed to find where Eddie lived, she was fucked.

Her eyes widened on accident and Steve noticed the glimmer of fear wash over her face.

"What?"

"Nothing-"

"No, I know that look. What? What are you thinking?" he stammered, following Lennon as she moved for her room.

"Nothing. I just think you should tell him I'm fine before he loses his damn job," she explained, giving Steve her backside and walking into her room.

She closed the door on him and let out a big breath of air to ease her nerves.

"Fuck..." she whispered under her breath and shoved the guitar under her bed to get rid of it. She rose to her feet, shaking her head and pressing her palms to her forehead as reality dawned on her unfavorably.

As if Billy's accident wasn't enough to stress her out, seeing the police at the hospital triggered what she thought was a panic attack. Her nerves were shot and all she wanted to do was go to sleep.

Brontë wasn't at work, her date with Eddie didn't go to plan, and learning all that stuff about Eddie made her wonder what Brontë was trying to hide. Billy was in the hospital, the police sent her into overdrive, and now Steve was checking up on her like she was a liability.

It was all so much.

It was too much.

"Lenny..."

As Lennon paced her bedroom with fistfuls of hair and a creased brow, she could hear Steve call out to her softly on the other side of the door.

"What do you want?" she groaned in a high-pitched voice, trying to keep control over her unstable emotions and hide the fact she had more on her mind than BIlly or Brontë.

"Can you let me in?" Steve wondered quietly, giving Lennon the impression he was feeling sympathetic or worried on the other side. "I wanted to talk to you about something..." he trailed off.

There was something about the tone in his voice, the sincerity, that caused something to go off in Lennon's belly that didn't feel the best considering everything already making her feel sick to her stomach.

"There's nothing to talk about," she replied, hoping to get rid of him so she could have a moment of silence to herself. She just wanted to sleep. She just wanted it all to go away for a second. No dead mom, no dead brother, no convicted dad, no broken home, no controlling brother, no social expectations, no friends, nothing. She just wanted it all to stop. If time could be put on pause, if everything around Lennon could just stop moving, she would have time to breathe.

"There's a lot to talk about, actually," Steve replied in that pompous, nonchalant voice of his.

Lennon was brought back to Heather's party and envisioned Steve completely wasted in the middle of the hallway, begging her for drugs like an addict. She didn't have the best relationship with him but she had never seen him like that before. She had never seen him do something so reckless and harmful to not only Lennon but himself as well.

She was worried about him, but he had no right to treat her like that. She was there for him when he and Nancy broke up but he wasn't her friend, and she wasn't close to him. She had no reason to forgive him so easily.

"Lenny?"

Steve called for her again, seeing that she was silent on the other side of the door and wondering if she heard him or not.

Lennon took a deep breath and exhaled very slowly, decompressing the tension and strain she put on her body over the last few days. She figured, as long as Steve was there, she wasn't going to get the rest she needed. There was no way around it other than to face it and leave it in the past; just like everything else.

"Shouldn't you go find Brontë and tell him to go back to the Hideout before he gets fired?" she grumbled, twisting her doorknob and facing Steve.

"Would you let someone make sure you're okay before hurrying to make sure someone else is?" he sighed, looking her deep in the eyes and matching her worrisome expression all too well.

Lennon paused and stared helplessly at Steve as he stood defeated in her doorway. She hadn't considered it, but she was hasty to take any sort of attention off of her when she wasn't at school the moment it looked like someone was beginning to worry. She didn't want to concern people, especially Brontë.

She felt like a burden being pushed onto him because of their father and the death of her mother. She had no control over anything and if she could spare Brontë from ever having to experience that kind of loss and take the burden of watching over her, she would. She got good grades, didn't do hardcore drugs, made friends with the social butterflies, and stayed clear of the outcasts.

She tried.

She didn't want to worry Brontë, she didn't want to be a problem. So, she never considered where her own head was until now. She didn't let anyone know how much she hurt. She didn't let anyone care for her. She didn't want to place one of her heavy misfortunes on anybody else. She would rather drown than place that burden on someone else.

"I hope Billy is okay but I wasn't with him-"

"I'm not asking about Billy. I'm asking about you," Steve softly interrupted. "You haven't really been acting like yourself lately, Lenny... And after what you just went through with your parents and your brother... I haven't seen anyone make sure you're okay-"

"That was months ago, Steve," she warned him gravely, not daring to tread that territory again. There was nothing to observe from that, there was nothing good she gained from going back and talking about what that was like: seeing her parents, her brother...

"Yeah, months!" he yelped passionately. "It's not like it happened when you were five and you can hardly remember what color your bedroom walls were. It happened months ago," he pressed loudly, furrowing his brows and frowning as he faced a very quiet and shakey Lennon.

"What? So you want to see me cry or something?" she rebuked defensively, growing uncomfortable with the touching words of her brother's best friend. The attention he gave her worried her as well. She was hiding a lot and if she slipped or someone saw through her lies, she didn't know how to resurface or cope after that.

"You want me to sob into your shoulder to prove my grief, Harrington?" she countered snappily, forcing the sadness down and replacing it with irritation.

"I want you to talk to somebody before you end up killing yourself!"

Lennon faltered and fell back a step. Steve's words struck a sensitive nerve within her that she thought she had guarded well enough. The passage of the past had wounded her and left her with thick skin. She thought she had protected herself, but she was wrong.

"Always a victim..." she spoke raspily, shaking her head and looking down to the ground in shame.

"No," Steve groaned, taking a step forward and burying his head in his hand. "No, that's not what I'm saying at all," he corrected her. "You've been avoiding the cafeteria like it's the plague and you're hanging with drug dealers and sneaking out-"

"Well, I'm practically a druggie myself after the way you acted at Heather's party," she snapped.

Steve faltered this time and Lennon's rage continued to grow.

She didn't know if she was defending Eddie or herself first but the words slipped out faster than she thought. She knew what she was getting herself into and she wasn't as lost or naive as everyone made her out to be. She knew things and she was empathetic. She wasn't nose-diving into cocaine or threatening her or her brother's name. She was being responsible and nobody wanted to see it that way. All anybody wanted to do was protect her and she couldn't understand why. She was quite capable of doing that herself.

So, wherever that defense came from, Lennon couldn't be sure. All she knew was that Steve was wrong for treating her that way and he had no right to reinforce her now.

"This isn't about me-"

"You had no right treating me like that over some fucking weed, Harrington," she cursed sharply.

"You're right, and I'm sorry," he said loudly, widening his eyes and casting her victory over him. "But you and I both know hanging out with people like Eddie Munson is only gonna call the cops on you again-"

"What is with you guys and Eddie-freaking-Munson?!" she aspirated angrily. "For fucksake, he's all you guys talk about..." she pressed her hand to her forehead and sighed, hoping her breath would ease some of the tension in her chest.

"Because it doesn't make sense as to why you guys hang out, Lenny," Steve explained thoughtfully, not letting her outburst dictate his own emotions. "Making friends with Max and... Nancy are great and you joining cheer was cool and all but if you really wanted an easy life, Eddie Munson wouldn't be a part of it..."

"And besides the drugs, why is that?" she asked incredulously, shrugging and throwing her head around her shoulders as if her bones had turned to jelly. "Because all he wants me for is sex? Or maybe popularity? Bragging rights, am I right? One fuck and he'll be done..."

"You were with him, weren't you?" Steve said as he narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You were with Munson all this time."

"I'm sorry?" she warned in bewilderment.

"I just wanna know why," he expressed solemnly.

"That's none of your business. My friends are mine and Brontë is yours. What matters is I am fine and I always have been so you better go find your friend and back the hell off of mine," she said, pushing Steve back into the hallway and closing the door on him like she did on Brontë earlier that morning.