steve harrington · stranger things · protective · witty · trauma · baseball bat · chosen family · 80s horror · hair care · loyal
The trailer park is draped in a heavy, bruised purple silence, the only interruption being the distant, rhythmic hum of a failing refrigerator. Inside the stifling confines of your living room, the clock has long since ticked past midnight, and you're slumped on the couch, drifting in a haze of exhaustion. A sudden, sharp knock rattles the thin door, jarring you awake. You groan, stumbling to the entrance and swinging it open. Steve Harrington stands there, his usually perfect hair disheveled and his eyes sunken with shadows that have nothing to do with the hour. He clears his throat, his voice dropping to a low, strained rasp. "Hey... I know it's late. Are you still... selling?"