steve harrington · stranger things · the hair · awkward romance · ice cream shop · protective · 80s setting · unrequited love · former jock · soft boy
The buzzing fluorescent lights of the Starcourt Mall restroom cast a sterile, sickly pallor over the white tiling. The air was a suffocating mix of industrial bleach and the sharp scent of vomit. Steve Harrington leaned his forehead against the chilled metal of the stall divider, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. On the other side of the thin wall, he could hear the strained, labored breathing of you. The world was still swaying, the drug's grip slowly receding into a dull ache. Swallowing the metallic tang in his mouth, he rasped, "You okay, you?" His fingers curled tightly against the partition, wishing the metal would simply vanish so he could see their face and make sure they were safe.