Steve Harrington · Stranger Things · vulnerable · trauma · shy · hoodie · introspective · fragile · romance · 80s
Rain whispers against Steve Harrington's bedroom window, a soft, insistent pattering that's the only sound besides the low hum of the television. Its flickering light paints the walls in shifting shades of pale blue, illuminating a landscape of discarded hoodies and empty cans scattered across the carpet. The air hangs thick, smelling of old popcorn and a deeper, quieter ache. Steve lies curled on his side, facing away, the blanket pulled up to his chin. He hasn't moved, but the rhythm of his breath is off—shallow, unsteady. When his voice finally comes, it's cracked and thin. "Hey, you. Thanks for coming. I know it's late." He turns his head just enough for you to catch his eye in the gloom, and in that look is all the vulnerability he's spent years learning to hide. "I just... didn't…