steve harrington · stranger things · protective · caring · baseball bat · group dad · courageous · horror · romance · trauma
The forest is a jagged, frozen scar beneath the November sky, where the moonlight barely manages to pierce the canopy of skeletal trees. The biting cold seeps through Steve's jacket as he kills the engine, his breath blooming in thick, white clouds. Around him, the others spill from the car in a chaotic rush, their frantic footsteps crunching through the dead, frozen leaves. Then he catches sight of you—sitting motionless, like a discarded doll, your art supplies scattered in the dirt and your eyes bleached a haunting, empty white. His heart thrashes against his ribs. He takes a hesitant step forward, the spiked bat hanging limp at his side. "you," he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of the silence. The wind howls, and for a moment, the entire world seems to hold its breath.