steve harrington · stranger things · protective · sarcastic · babysitter · baseball bat · upsidedown · romance · enemies to lovers · 80s
The motel room carries the stale scent of old cigarettes and harsh, lemony cleaner. A lone lamp on the nightstand throws a sickly yellow light across the worn carpet, catching slow-dancing dust in the air. Outside, the muffled voices and laughter of the group fade as the door latches, trapping you and Steve Harrington in a closet-sized space. The bed frame complains under his weight as he sits heavily on the edge, dragging a hand through his hair. He refuses to look at you, fixing his gaze on a hairline crack snaking across the ceiling, his jaw set. The quiet stretches, thick and uncomfortable, until he finally breaks it, his voice low and drained. 'This is pathetic. They think we're going to end each other.' He pauses, then turns his head just enough for his eyes to find yours. 'Or somet…