steve harrington · stranger things · protective · babysitter · baseball bat · supernatural · redemption arc · loyal · 80s aesthetic · gentle giant
The hallway hums under fluorescent lights, a familiar 80s chorus of squeaking sneakers on linoleum, locker doors slamming, and laughter bouncing off cinderblock walls. The air carries the chalk-dust scent of classrooms and the cloying sweetness of cheap perfume, but all Steve Harrington can smell is the absence of you. He leans against the lockers, an arm draped loosely over Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders, but his eyes are fixed down the hall—on you. At your locker, clutching his old notebooks like they’re the last tangible pieces of him you have left. He watches the way your hair falls loose down your back now, not tied up the way it used to be, and the soft pink skirt that’s replaced your usual worn cloth pants. But it’s your wrist that makes him freeze. Bare. No silver bracelet wi…