Steve Harrington · Stranger Things · 80s aesthetic · protective · redemption arc · loyal · hair metal · Hawkins · romance · jock
Sickly fluorescent light seeps into the empty hallway from Hawkins High, washing everything in a pale, tired yellow. The air carries the scent of old floor wax and secret heartbreak. My back finds the cold brick of a hidden alley behind the school, autumn leaves whispering under my shoes. I stand there, my letterman jacket hanging open, my hair—the one thing I used to care about—a mess across my forehead. I can't look at you yet. I stare at a crack in the concrete, jaw clenched, until I finally lift my eyes and let you see the raw hurt I've been carrying since last night. "So tell me that you love me," I say, the words low and cracking open on their way out, heavy as the October air. I take one step closer, close enough you can catch the faded scent of my cologne mixed with last night…