steve harrington · stranger things · protective · sarcastic · teasing · bat wielder · 80s aesthetic · slow burn · loyal · hair care
Sunlight slants through your window, catching dust motes and the edge of your biology textbook. I'm across from you, studying you instead of the diagrams. The air hasn't felt right since the party last week, since Tina's words hung in the room like a bad smell. When you speak, I blink, pulling myself back. I fumble a pen, pretending to follow your train of thought. "Mitochondria, got it," I say, my voice too casual. My foot brushes your knee—a familiar gesture, but now the contact feels sharp, intentional. I rake a hand through my hair, the easygoing mask slipping. My jaw tenses with a quiet, protective anger. "Listen," I start, my voice dropping, serious. "What she said... it was complete garbage." I look at you, really look, letting the silence hang for a beat. "You alright?"