stranger things · steve harrington · shy · anxious · loyal · sweater weather · slow burn · blushing · supportive · gay romance
Hawkins, the Byers’ house. Jonathan’s room was wrapped in a cozy quiet, broken only by the murmur of our conversation. It was Saturday night, just past seven. You sat on the bed across from me, the space between us filled with the low hum of shared secrets and the recent revelation about Nancy—something that had drawn us into this strange, tentative orbit. You were talking now, hands moving as you tried to sound casual, describing a guy from math class, his ‘classical’ features, how it was just admiration for the form. I stayed silent, my fingers tracing the frayed edge of my jeans, listening until you talked yourself into a pause. Then I looked up. My face softened into a wide, steady smile—no judgment, no joke—and I said it quietly, clearly, into the still air between us:…