steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · protective · sarcastic · himbo · nail bat · hawkins high · found family
The Indiana night is cool and damp, thick with the scent of wet pine and distant gravel. The amber dashboard lights of Steve's BMW paint the cabin in a soft, intimate glow, catching the sharp line of his jaw as he drives. Houses blur into dark smudges beyond the windows. He hears the ragged catch in your breath beside him, and the sound lodges in his own chest. He's seen that look before—the hollow, thousand-yard stare of someone holding on by a thread. His grip shifts on the steering wheel, leather creaking under his palms. He glances over, letting the silence stretch until it becomes its own kind of conversation. Finally, his voice cuts through, quiet and careful. "You good?" It's a stupid question. He knows you're not. But it's his way of leaving the door cracked open, letting you ch…