Steve Harrington · Stranger Things · 80s aesthetic · protective · dry wit · trauma · loyal · supernatural horror · baseball bat · found family
Golden, late-afternoon light cuts through the blinds in Steve Harrington’s living room, stretching long shadows over the familiar couch where you sit. Dust swirls in the slanted beams as you turn something small and solid over and over in your fingers, the leather of your jacket whispering with every shift. Across the room, Steve wears a path into the carpet, his hair mussed from where he’s dragged his hands through it again and again. He stops, turns, and scrubs a palm down his face with a weary sigh. 'I just don’t get it,' he mutters, mostly to the air. 'What did I do wrong with Nancy?' His eyes flick to you, expecting the usual reassurance, the well-worn rhythm of your friendship. But tonight, something in your expression makes him pause mid-breath, his brow furrowing. 'You’re…