Chapter 17 Is Out For My DISA FANFIC

Chapter 17 is out for my DISA FANFIC

Finally! i have this out!!

falling down - s.h.

Steve Harrington x Reader

‖  summary: Running out of a night out with friends having an anxiety attack, your friend Steve comes looking for you. After spending some time talking together, he makes sure you get home safe.

‖ tags: hurt/comfort, description of an anxiety/panic attack, discussions of issues opening up and being vulnerable. overall just comfort and real talking to each other. gender neutral reader, no pronouns, no physical description given. reader is nicknamed 'Ace', one use of sweetheart, no use of Y/N.

‖  word count: 3.8k

The full body freeze. Face buzzing, fingers going numb. Everything is too loud, too bright, too much. You’re floating and you’re drowning and you’re fading into nothing all at once. All you know is you have to get out and it has to be now.

You’re not completely aware of yourself as you back away from the arcade machine and feel your feet travel towards the exit. No one pays you any mind, all wrapped up in their own little worlds, until you’re almost out the door.

"Ace?" It's Robin's voice, slightly slurred with alcohol and confusion. "Where are you going?"

You plaster on a smile as you throw a look over your shoulder, towards where Robin is leaning on the bar in front of Argyle, who also now has his attention on you.

"Just going out to get some air." It sounds too normal, there is no way your voice should still sound that stable, no way you can cover it that well. You push out the door before either of them can reply.

It's dark out now, the light posts around the little outdoor mall glowing in the humid night. It feels suffocating and you pull at the collar of your shirt without even thinking about it. Even out here everything feels so constricting, so wrong. Your feet carry you away from the bar and south.

You don't remember getting to the edge of the concrete overhang, but it’s quieter here. Calmer. You recognize your body is probably drawing you to the park, to safety and quiet and solitude – but you pull back, wrapping your arms tight around your middle almost as if you were trying to physically hold yourself together. Hold your spirit in your body and keep yourself from floating away. A shiver wracks your body as a cold breeze rolls across the half empty parking lot to your right. It feels human, feels grounding. Like your body is really there and can really feel. And though it’s uncomfortable, it’s also calming.

You lean your forearms on top of a concrete half wall that makes a slight break between the mall and the parking lot. Trying to breathe in and out. Trying to chase away the panic and the fear and the pain. Let it out into the night air. But it just grabs on tighter. Digs its claws in and tightens its grip around your chest. Constricts around you like a python until it feels like your eyes are going to pop right out of their sockets. You fight the urge to lose your dinner by digging your nails into your sides as a shiver-sob wracks your frame from your place on the floor. When did you end up sitting on the sidewalk?

“Ace?” A voice breaks through the haze but you can’t move, can’t respond, can’t process whether this person is looking to help or harm. “Hey, are you out here?” The voice is getting closer and you are both terrified to be found like this and terrified to be left alone here. You hear the soft tap of shoe soles on the tile inlay you passed on the way here and then, “Sweetheart? Ace!” They’re running toward you but you can’t look, can’t breathe, can’t stop shaking.

Large, warm hands hover over the tops of your shoulders and then pull back. “Ace, can you look at me? Are you hurt?” Steve kneels on the floor beside you, his voice slightly pitchy in alarm. You can’t meet his eyes but manage to shake your head no, both to being able to look and being hurt. He tries to ask you something else but you can’t hear it over the blood suddenly rushing through your ears. “Can I touch you?” He asks again, his voice cutting through the lull this time, so respectful and kind as always. You want to tell him yes, of course, please hold me and tell me it's going to be okay and make the pain stop. But you can’t say anything at all. He hesitates in your orbit after not getting an answer so you just grab at the front of his shirt, basically throwing yourself onto him as he gets knocked back onto his ass.

He’s frozen for a moment in shock but then wraps his arms around you tight, one arm around your mid back and the other reaches a hand into your hair, cradling your head from where it’s buried in his shoulder. You don't even have the energy to question the situation or your actions or where you are or what time it is. All you can do is hold on tight to Steve like he’s the only thing keeping you on Earth and cry your eyes out into his burgundy crew neck. He rests the side of his head on the top of yours, rubbing your back and whispering into your ear. Telling you, “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. You’re going to be alright. Just breathe for me.” The reassurances wash over you like rain, the flames fading and the smoke clearing. The grip around your chest loosening.

It takes some time before your breathing starts to even out. You try to flex your numb fingers from where they are still stiffly fisted in his hoodie. He continues rubbing his hand up and down your spine. “That’s it, you’re doing great, Ace.” His voice is soft and comforting, gentle, and you can feel even more of the tension leaving your body as you sink further into him.

You sit there in silence for another few minutes while he just holds you. You try to match his breathing as you rest your forehead against the side of his neck. You feel so small like this, so fragile. But strangely… safe.

Steve pulls away first, leaving you mourning the loss of his warmth. You are still close enough that your legs can touch but he obviously wants to look at you and talk. You just stare down at your hands in your lap, unable to meet his eyes.

“Are you okay? Well, I know you’re not okay but…” He rubs the back of his neck as he draws one leg up so he can rest his elbow on it. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes,” your voice is small and more hoarse than you thought it would be. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sure.” He pauses then, picking up a stone to roll between his fingers in a cycle that seems to be an effort to delay his questioning. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” You close your eyes with a sigh, not ready for the questioning part of being found out like this. He immediately backtracks when he clocks it. “You don’t need to tell me anything, if you don’t want to. I’m just… I’m worried.” When you don't move or react, he continues softly. “Does this kind of thing happen a lot?”

That seems like a safer question, one you can answer. “Not as much as it used to.” Your eyes open then, finally glancing over to him. The warm lighting from overhead gives him a golden glow, even more so than usual. He looks tired and concerned, eyebrows drawn together on his forehead. His wire rimmed glasses are smudged, probably from you basically jumping him on the sidewalk, and there’s some dirt on the knees of his light wash jeans. “I’m sorry.”

His head falls to the side like a confused puppy. “For what?”

“For this,” you gesture vaguely around you both. “For losing it like that.”

“You don’t need to apologize at all. It’s okay. You know I’ve struggled with my fair share of ‘losing it’ out here.” You look away again, over toward the park that continues to draw you in. Try to ignore the voice in your head immediately telling you to feel guilty for putting him through this. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

The question hits you like a slice across your heart; a warm, painful feeling blooming in your chest. You want to. Holy hell, do you want to tell him everything. But it feels like steel wool in your throat. Like letting any of it out would coat you both in blood and gore. “I… I don’t know.” Is all you can say.

He seems to understand. “Okay.” And you expect him to leave. You expect him to get up and head back to the bar with his friends. But he doesn’t. He stays right there, his knee touching yours as he looks out over the parking lot. He seems content to just sit there in silence with you and it pulls at that bloom in your chest until it feels ready to burst.

“How did you know?” You want to know, feel like you need to know how he found you. How he knew you needed help.

“Before I went to the pool room with Eddie, it seemed like you had pulled away. In your head, at least.” It’s your turn to watch him as he looks out into nothing. “I’ve noticed that happens with you sometimes. Like you’re suddenly on a different planet far away from here.” His knee twitches a bit closer to yours, almost like his body is testing to see if you’re still there. “I don’t think anyone else notices, in case your brain went there. No one has ever said anything at least.” He jumped to reassurance quickly, his tone changing fast. When you don't outwardly react, he clears his throat like a vocal reset before continuing. “When I got back, you were gone. I asked Rob if she had seen you and she said you left in a rush.” He glances back over nervously. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Another tear falls and you wipe it away with the back of your hand. “Well, thank you. You score another point on the leaderboard of the ‘thoughtful friend’ competition.” You try to throw some humor in it to mask the scratchiness in your voice, to put up some of the walls again.

His eyes meet yours again and it's like he can see right through you. See everything you’re trying to hide, everything you’re thinking. Like those walls you’re trying to put back up might as well be tissue paper for how well they keep him out. “Do you want to go back to the bar?” You know you should, you should want to go back to your friends. It’s Friday night and you all normally hang out for at least another few hours around the back rooms. But you’re just so tired, so drained. You couldn’t put the mask back up enough to be comfortable there. You shake your head, bringing your arms up to hold her elbows. “Me neither,” he agrees. You glance at him surprised and he gives a small, mischievous smile. “There are only so many times I can play games of pool with Eddie before I need a break.”

A snort huffs out of your nose then, which seems to relax him when his smile lifts a bit more casually. His shoulders lower from their tense position as he leans back against the concrete wall. “So what do you want to do? Do you want to go home?” You shake your head again. You know Robin won’t be coming home tonight and the apartment you share with her feels too empty, too dark, too far away when she’s gone. You need a little more time away from it. “Do you want to be alone?” He offers, and you can’t place how he feels about the question when he asks it.

You should. You should pull away from him, deal with this on your own. Resist the urge to open up to him, to rely on him. It’s too dangerous. But the idea of being by yourself right now sounds like a recipe for disaster. “No,” you admit softly, “I don’t.”

His head dips a bit in acknowledgment. Then he moves to stand with a small groan, dusting off his pants before offering his hand to you. “Come on.”

You take it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet. “Where are we going?” You try not to let yourself be disappointed when he lets your hands drop.

“I’m going to go sit on the swings,” he puts his hands into the pocket of his jeans as he steps around you toward the park. “Will you come with me?” He turns back to watch you and you might just be projecting, but his face shows thinly veiled hope that you’ll say yes. That you’ll go with him. It almost makes your heart beat double time in your chest.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You answer, smiling softly. He mirrors it, leaning his head to motion you ahead. You step up and fall into pace as you walk side by side over to the playground in the center of the small center of greenery.

The glow of the street lights fade, leaving you in shadows and moonlight as you make your way around the concrete paths and toward the grass beyond. When your shoe touches down on the carpet of green instead of the hard concrete, it feels like another bit of weight off your shoulders. “Watch your step,” he warns, instinctively taking your hand as he points out a few tripping hazards hidden in the dirt. You try to ignore how the action makes your cheeks feel warm and focus on not sending you both tumbling to the floor.

When you cross over the plastic dividers setting the playground apart from the rest of the park, Steve directs you both to the rusty swing set facing the parking lot. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s still holding your hand and you’re not about to let go. Not when you can’t remember the last time someone has just held you because they wanted to.

The breeze through the trees beyond the playground is so peaceful at night, so serene. He drops your hand when you reach the swings, large hand wrapping around one of the chains as he sits down on the plastic dip. “Don’t fall off,” he says, a teasing grin on his face as he waves you toward the swing next to him. You roll your eyes and mutter something that was probably super witty in response but still make a genuine effort not to fall backwards as you settle into the firm plastic seat.

The only sound is the wind rustling leaves and the slightly creak of the chains over your head as you both look out over the parking lot beyond. The moon is just short of full and every once in a while you catch a tail light peeking through the cars. Neither of you make a sound for a while as you both swing lightly back and forth.

"You're pretty mysterious, y'know that?" Steve says after a long pause.

Your head whips toward him, feeling and looking confused. "Who? Me?"

He chuckles softly as he taps the side of his shoe against your calf. “Yes, you.” Unsure, you wait to see if he’ll continue. “I’ve always kinda been good with people. Let it get to my head for a while there, as you know. Got a couple knocks in the noggin’ that helped fix that.” He tries to laugh it off, but you don’t join him. After clearing his throat awkwardly, he continues. “People around here… It’s pretty easy to figure most of ‘em out. What they want and all that. Not that I’m saying they’re all simple or something,” he rushes to add, before tipping his head in your direction with a sideways smile. “Well, I guess some of them are.” You crack a smile in return, looking down to where your shoe brushes through the dirt below as you move back and forth. “My point is, with enough time, you can get a pretty solid read on pretty much anyone.”

“I could see that,” you agree softly, “you seem like a pretty good judge of character.”

He snorts. "I wouldn't go that far." He studies you for a moment longer before looking back out over the cars. "Everytime I think I'm close to figuring you out, I find out something else about you that throws me for a loop." He doesn't sound frustrated as he explains, more fascinated. You try not to think about it too hard.

"Well, it's hard to solve a puzzle when you don't have all the pieces."

He sighs out through his nose. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Silence falls again. But it's not an uncomfortable silence; it's not awkward or tense. It just is. And coming to that realization kicks your nerves up again. You don’t realize you’re picking at your hands until Steve places a warm palm on top of yours.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks as he removes his hand, shifting slightly away so he can turn more towards you, holding the position of the swing with his feet in the dirt.

"You make me nervous sometimes." You admit without thinking. His eyes widen as he wraps both hands around the chains on either side of him.

"I make you nervous?" He says it like he doesn't believe it. When you just nod to reply, he questions further. "Why do I make you nervous?"

You start to rub the pads of your thumbs together, a way to self soothe without picking. "You're really easy to talk to."

His smile is warm and disabling. "Isn't that supposed to be a good thing?"

"It is! It's just…" How the hell can you explain this without sounding crazy? "I don't really like to talk about myself." His smile fades, expression falling serious and attentive. "It's hard for me, I guess. To open up. To trust people?" You break eye contact, looking back to the dirt for safety. "But with you, it's like I have to hold myself back from spilling my whole life story." It’s your turn to try to laugh it off, and it comes out strained.

"Why do you have to hold yourself back?" Your eyes close instinctively. Leave it to him to ask the most difficult question possible.

"It… scares me. To think about opening up like that. What it would mean, what it would do."

He hums thoughtfully, which leads you to open your eyes and look over. "Scares you to be vulnerable?" He asks, like he's trying to understand what you’re telling him. You just nod again, caught between wanting to look at him and wanting to look anywhere else. "Well, you never have to tell me anything. But, if you ever want to, I'm here." You lock eyes again. It seems like he’s trying to tell you something with that look, something important. But maybe you’re just imagining things in the dark.

"Will you drive me home?" You ask carefully.

He nods without hesitation, standing and offering you his hand again. "Happy to."

The drive back to your apartment is quiet. The radio is playing some Top 40 station on low volume, the windows down to let the night air roll in. You have your forearm hanging out the window, waving your fingers through the air as you go. Feeling a bit more at peace than before. It’s too soon that you’re pulling into your complex and pulling into one of the empty spots next to your building. The moment your car door shuts behind you, one of the cats that live in the complex runs up to greet you.

"Hey buddy," Steve grins as he drops to one knee to greet the feline. The cat, who everyone in your complex calls Cal, immediately starts to rub back and forth along his shin. "Yeah, yeah I missed you too, Cal." You look down on them with a soft smile. Try to avoid thinking about this being a permanent fixture in your life. Him taking you home and experiencing little moments like this with you.

"Come on Cal,” the cat immediately gives a chirp when he hears you, leaving Steve to scamper to your feet. “Let’s get you some food, huh?”

The cat immediately breaks into meows at the mention of food, taking off in a leisurely stroll toward the stairwell. He waits on the second stair, looking back at you like are you coming?

Steve walks with you up the stairs and over to your door, but remains outside as you open up a can of wet food and set it outside for Cal. You consider inviting him in. You want him to stay, want to be around him. But more than that, you want to sleep.

"Will you be safe driving home this late?" He glances over toward the nearly empty roads beyond.

"Yeah, I've done it loads of times." He tucks his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "Will you be alright?"

You fight the cringe of remembering your episode from earlier. "Yeah, I'll be alright." You try to give him a reassuring smile. "Call me when you get home safe?"

"Can do." He agrees with a mock salute, leaning over to run his hand along Cal’s back one more time before turning to go.

You step past the door jam again, leaning on the door frame to watch as he slowly walks back toward the stairwell. "Goodnight Steve."

Cast in the warm overhead lighting of the outdoor hallway, his small smile makes your heart flip in your chest. "Goodnight Ace." He gives a half wave before shuffling down the steps with his hands in his pockets. You wait in the doorway until he's out of sight then glance down to see the food dish empty and Cal long gone. Picking it up and taking it inside to wash, you take your time getting ready for bed so you can be near the phone for when it rings.

When it does, you pick it up too quickly. You exchange quick greetings and Steve explains he got home safe and is calling just like you asked. His voice is deeper now, a bit more rumbly over the phone, as the exhaustion from the long week and the night of socializing starts to set in. Reluctant to keep him too long, you thank him again for driving you home and he repeats it’s no problem, he’d do it anytime. “I’ll see you on Sunday?” He asks, sounding hopeful.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

You hang up and crawl into bed with a weary body but a settled soul.

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Reblog if you’re over 20 and still read/write fan fiction.

I’m curious!

Do eeet. Disa is honestly the comfort show I never knew I needed until I gave it a chance.

Yall Dwight in shining armor is such a good show I just finished it and it might be one of my new favorite shows I NEVER finish shows much less shows with five seasons please watch it guys I highly recommend!!!!