He was less than an inch from the window, his nose nearly touching the cold glass. His eyes scanned the forest outside, where the trees swayed under the morning sunlight. It had been two weeks since he escaped the laboratory, but fear was still a constant companion, nestled deep in his chest.
Especially because sometimes, he felt people lurking around the forest. He wasn't sure if they were soldiers from the lab. Probably were, considering what Papa was like. On those days, he'd curl up under the bed and prepare himself. To fight and kill again. Those were the worst nights, robbed of sleep until Mary came into the room, calling him for breakfast.
Other than that, life at the Harringtons' house was paradise. There, he could eat until his belly hurt, sleep without a set time to wake up, and watch TV — so many fun cartoons that he didn't even know which one to pick, switching channels every few minutes. He also got to wear real clothes for the first time, so different from the hospital gown from the lab.
No more punishments, needles, or collars. No one forced him to use his powers or stay connected to wires for hours, being watched by cold, contemptuous eyes. It was like living a dream. So perfect that, sometimes, he feared closing his eyes and waking up back in that sterile white cell.
Thankfully, that never happened.
"Oh, you're already awake."
He turned and saw Mary entering the room, holding a steaming mug of chocolate milk. The sweet smell made his stomach growl. He was crazy about that combination, so much so that he begged Mary to make it for him at least three times a day.
"Another sleepless night?" She frowned when she saw him standing there, a mix of concern and mild irritation in her voice. "We've talked about how important it is to rest."
"I just woke up, Mary," he said, walking toward her, eyes fixed on the mug.
Mary lifted the mug when he reached out his small hand to grab it. "What did you just call me?"
He stopped, feeling the expectation radiating from her. "I meant to say Mom."
"That's right." Mary smiled, satisfied, and lowered the mug for him.
Seven took it with both hands. He blew on the steam and took a sip, the sweet taste filling his mouth. For a moment, it was just him, the mug, and the pleasure that drink gave him.
He had to work hard to convince the Harringtons to adopt him. Since his powers couldn't make someone simply like him, he had to make them truly feel it. Mary was easier. She wanted a child. She already had the desire to be a mother and the fear of never being able to. He only used those feelings to his advantage.
James, on the other hand, was a challenge. His distrust was a tall, solid wall, always undermining every bit of progress Seven made. That's why he had to keep influencing him constantly: a touch of calm when James's fear peaked, a softening of the anxiety when his eyes locked on the 007 on his wrist.
Seven knew why the man was like that after seeing his memories. James was, above all, selfish. Everything revolved around himself—his desires, his convenience. Helping someone? Only if there was something in it for him. He didn't even truly love Mary, his memories revealing a trail of betrayals. The only reason he stayed married was money, afraid of losing everything in a divorce. And since Seven had nothing to offer besides problems, James wanted him as far away as possible.
But little by little, with the influence of his powers and Mary's persistence, James stopped talking about doctors or authorities—and eventually, he agreed to adopt him.
"Is that good?" Mary asked, running her hand through his hair.
He closed his eyes, savoring the cafuné along with the warm milk. "Wonderful."
"I'm glad."
********
[Three days later]
Seven stood in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers adjusting the collar of the button-up shirt that hung loose on his body. He tugged at the fabric, trying to close the last button, his heart pounding in his chest. Today wasn't just any day. It was the day. The most important one of his life. He and the Harringtons would travel to Chicago to pick up the papers that confirmed his adoption—the documents that would make him, officially, part of a family.
He didn't know how James had pulled it off. Something about a friend with connections, old favors, arranged paperwork. The details didn't matter. Because from now on, he could go outside… today he… he would finally… "From today on I-I..." He stared at himself in the mirror, eyes shimmering with tears beginning to fall down his cheeks. "From today on, I will be Steven Harrington. A-a normal child, with a normal life. Not a number. Not an experiment. Just… a person."
The tears fell freely now, but he didn't wipe them away. They were tears of relief, of victory. He could leave the lab behind and have a life. Steven smiled at his reflection—his first real smile, the first of many, he hoped.
"Steven, are you ready?" Mary's voice echoed from downstairs.
He wiped his face with the back of his hand, taking a deep breath to pull himself together. "I'm coming."
As he came down the stairs, he found Mary in the living room, holding a folded blanket in her hands. "We're late. Let's go."
Steven followed her to the garage, where James was already in the driver's seat, the engine purring softly. Mary opened the back door and looked at him, her expression serious. "Just like we agreed, okay?"
"Yes," he replied, lying down in the back seat. Mary then spread the blanket over him, covering him completely. That was necessary because the story James and Mary had told their friends and the community groups in Hawkins was that they were going to adopt the son of a distant cousin of Mary's, who lived abroad and had died in a tragic car accident. A simple narrative, but effective enough to ward off inconvenient questions and avoid suspicious looks.
"All set?" James asked with a low grunt.
"Yes, let's go," Mary said, settling into the passenger seat.
********
Steven had never ridden in a car before. It was disorienting at first—the sensation of movement, the unpredictable bumps, the way the sound of the road kept changing—but it soon got boring, especially since he couldn't see anything.
"You can come out from under that blanket now. We're well out of town—"
Before James could even finish the sentence, Steven tossed the blanket aside and sat up, pressing his face to the window. His eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw how the world opened up in vastness.
Golden fields stretched all the way to the horizon, rippling under the wind. The sky, a deep shade of blue, embraced everything, dotted with white clouds. In the distance, a line of low hills curved gently, and the sun shone brightly, casting long shadows that danced across the earth.
In that moment, Steven understood just how big and beautiful the world was.
********
He hadn't even noticed time passing as he kept his eyes glued to the window, mesmerized by the world rushing by. But slowly, the fields gave way to buildings, and Steven's wonder began to fade. By the time they reached Chicago, he was curled up and overwhelmed in the back seat.
The light, peaceful mood of the road had been replaced by something heavy and claustrophobic. There were so many people, so many emotions clashing around him all at once.
He lowered his head and pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to block out the flood. It was too much. His tolerance for other people's emotions couldn't handle the cacophony of a crowded city. What were his own feelings? Where did he begin and where did he end? Outrage, regret, shame, contempt, guilt, excitement, loneliness, happiness, anxiety, gratitude, pride, and more. All mixing together at once, suffocating him.
Steven wanted to scream, to cry, to run away. He wanted to go back to the open road, where the world was vast and quiet, or to the silent safety of his home in Hawkins. Anywhere but here.
Then suddenly, just when he thought he might explode, a hand touched his leg, grounding him.
"Are you okay, Steven?" Mary's voice cut through the chaos, and the direct contact made her feelings rise above the rest.
Concern, compassion, and a hint of curiosity. Her emotions were like a lighthouse in the middle of a storm. Steven looked up, meeting her gaze. "I... I'm just a little scared."
Mary squeezed his thigh gently, her face softening with an understanding smile. "Well, a big city can be a bit overwhelming the first time. Right, James?"
"Yeah, yeah, I guess so," James replied absentmindedly, slowing the car and stopping at a light.
"Can I... hold your hand?" Steven asked, afraid she might say no.
"Of course you can," Mary said with a smile, taking his hand. "Better?"
"...yeah."
********
Steven didn't really understand what a hotel was—he just knew it was a place where you could stay for a while. It seemed confusing, but he decided he'd ask Mary about it later. For now, he just followed the Harringtons, stepping into a lobby that left him speechless. The place was beautiful, with a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting golden lights that danced on the walls. The air smelled clean and slightly sweet, so different from the heavy stench of the city outside.
At the reception, James was talking to an elegant woman. Mary, beside him, spoke with a man wearing a strange hat who was stacking the luggage onto a gleaming cart. Steven looked away from them and saw himself reflected in a large mirror on the wall.
The oversized shirt hung from his thin frame, making him look a bit ridiculous, but what really caught his attention was the hair. Tiny strands had started to grow, slightly covering his scalp. He reached up to his head and noticed it no longer felt so rough. Steven didn't even know that was possible.
"Come on, Steven," Mary called, offering her hand. James was already by the elevator door, his face closed off.
Steven ran to catch up with them, but when the doors slid open, he froze, remembering the last time he'd been in an elevator— Blood pouring from his nose into his mouth. Flashing lights. Eight's terrified screams. A line of bodies down the hallway—
"Steven, hurry up," James's harsh voice broke out, and Steven returned to the hotel lobby. He rushed into the elevator and apologized, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. The doors closed, and as the elevator ascended, he eased James's irritation and the worry that had begun to show in Mary. He really didn't want to open his mouth for the next few minutes.
When the elevator doors opened again, he made sure to stay close behind them all the way to the room.
********
Steven was facing a big challenge.
Since he was alone in the hotel room — James and Mary had gone to get the adoption papers — it was up to him to order dinner.
Mary had explained how room service worked before they left, saying it was super easy. But it wasn't! There were so many options, he didn't know what to choose. Something salty? Or sweet? He really wanted to try the chocolate cake, but he was also curious about the pizza. Maybe both? James wouldn't be mad... right? He had said Steven could order whatever he wanted!
He stared at the menu for a few minutes before making a decision. "I'll get both!"Steven turned around, grabbed the phone awkwardly — he had never used one before — and dialed reception. He heard a strange ring, then another, and finally someone picked up.
"Hello, you've reached the kitchen at the Plaza Hotel. How can I help you?"
Steven pulled the phone away from his ear, gave it a suspicious look, then pressed it back against his head. "Hello?"
"Yes?"
Weird. Very weird. For as long as he could remember, Steven had always felt people's emotions when he spoke to them. But through the phone, he felt nothing! It was scary, like walking in the dark with no light at all. "Hi... hum. I'd like to order food."
"Of course, sir. What would you like?" the voice asked.
"Um, uh." His mind went blank. He glanced quickly at the menu. "I want a pizza and a chocolate cake."
"What flavor?"
"What?"
"The flavor of the pizza, sir."
Pizzas had flavors too?! Steven looked at the menu again and saw the list of flavors under the big "Pizzas" heading. "I... I'll have a pepperoni one."
"Okay. One pepperoni pizza and a chocolate cake, correct?"
"Yes."
"Anything to drink?"
"... do you have chocolate milk?"
"... Yes, we do."
Even without being able to feel the woman's emotion, Steven had the distinct impression he was being judged. "I'll take it."
"Which room should we deliver it to?"
"Hmm... 304."
"Okay, sir. Your order will be delivered in a few minutes."
"Thank you."
"Our pleasure, sir."
"...."
"...."
"Anything else, sir?"
"No."
"Then please don't forget to hang up."
"Oh, right, sorry." Steven put the phone back, his face flushed with embarrassment.
********
A few hours later, Steven was sprawled out on the bed with a bloated stomach, his face marked by a mix of satisfaction and mild regret. The room service tray sat on the table, with pizza leftovers and a piece of cake staining the plate. An empty mug, with traces of chocolate, rested beside it.
The door to the room clicked open, and Steven lifted his head to see Mary and James walk in. Mary carried a folder full of papers, her emotions seeming to light up the room. James, on the other hand, was frowning, his eyes scanning the mess on the table.
"Oh my God, Steven, what did you eat?" Mary exclaimed, laughing as she walked over to the bed. She sat at the edge, placing the folder down beside her and looking at his belly with a mix of amusement and concern. "Looks like you overdid it... again."
Steven gave a shy smile. "I think so," he murmured, half-sleepy.
James huffed, already grabbing the tray with an air of impatience. "Next time, clean up when you're done," he grumbled, taking the tray to the corner of the room and dumping the crumbs into the trash.
Mary didn't seem to notice her husband's grumpiness. Her eyes were shining as she opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. "Steven, look at this!" she said, practically vibrating with excitement. "These are the adoption papers! Everything's here, signed and stamped. It's official now — you're Steven Harrington."
She held the documents in front of him, pointing at the lines filled with black ink, the stamp in the corner of the page. Steven sat up, his heart racing as he looked at the papers. It was real. Not a dream, not a fragile promise — it was proof that he belonged somewhere.
Now, his roots in society were planted. But it still wasn't enough — he needed to go deeper, so that pulling him out would be impossible without leaving a gaping hole.
He needed to become known.
***
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, images or songs featured in this fic. Additionally, I do not claim ownership of any products or properties mentioned in this novel. This work is entirely fanfic.