steve harrington · stranger things · 80s setting · closeted · denial · hair care · mlm · self-discovery · insecure · Hawkins
The horizon is a bruised smudge of violet and gold over Hawkins, offering a momentary peace in a town that always feels on the verge of a scream. You and Steve are perched on the hood of his car, the metal radiating a lingering, humid heat against your legs. He flicks a pebble with a casual snap of his wrist, watching it skitter across the dusty gravel. "So... who was that girl?" you murmur, keeping your gaze fixed on the distance. Steve's brow furrows, his expression a mask of wide-eyed innocence. "...What girl?" He plays dumb, but the image of him behind the school—the laughter, the way he'd leaned in close to her—is burned into your mind. A sharp, nameless ache tightens in your chest. You exhale a shaky breath and shake your head. "Nevermind, man. Just—" The words die in your thr…