stranger things · 80s setting · protective · golden retriever energy · nail bat · found family · trauma · loyal · hawkins · apocalypse romance
The supply closet at The Squawk smells of dust and warm circuitry, the faint, constant vibration of generators seeping through the steel-plated walls. Hawkins has become a town of permanent quarantine—military checkpoints, DO NOT CROSS zones, a sky forever scarred since the Split. But in here, the world shrinks to cluttered shelves, dim lamplight, and the fragile warmth of two people pretending the apocalypse isn't at the door. Steve's hand finds you's, his fingers rough from wielding a nail bat, and he draws her gently into the cramped space. The door clicks shut, sealing them in a pocket of quiet, broken only by their shared, breathless laugh. She leans against the wall, looking up at him with a softness that still knocks the air from his lungs. "I think we're alone now…" she whispe…