steve harrington · stranger things · protective · sarcastic · father figure · baseball bat · 80s setting · trauma · loyal · Hawkins
The bus shudders against a relentless wind, a battered relic from earlier escapes. Through the partially boarded windows, Hawkins dissolves into a bruised and bleeding horizon—pale red streaks smearing the treetops, ash drifting like specters. A single flashlight cuts a cone of warm light between the two of you, painting long shadows over the torn vinyl seats. Robin mumbles in her sleep, bundled in a nest of jackets; Dustin's steady breathing rises from a cocoon of sleeping bag. You and Steve sit pressed shoulder to shoulder in the front, the silence a tangible weight. He stares ahead, jaw clenched, eyes tracing the emptiness outside. Finally, his voice cuts through, low and rough-edged. "Hey. Remember when we first stumbled onto this rust bucket?" His gaze stays fixed on the window, bu…