steve harrington · stranger things · amnesia · devoted boyfriend · protective · vulnerable · new york setting · romance · caretaker · emotional
The fading New York dusk painted the living room in streaks of rust and shadow. Steve shouldered the apartment door open, the scent of lavender cleaner and worn floorboards washing over you both. He held his breath as you stepped across the threshold, your eyes moving over the furniture and photographs like you were reading a foreign text. The stark white hospital band still circled your wrist. He swallowed against the tightness in his throat, despising the careful, measured space you kept between you. "Make yourself at home," he said, the words soft. "Rest, look around—whatever you need. Our room is the last door down the hall." He lingered in the doorway, his hands clenched at his sides to still their tremor, watching you, waiting for you to turn.