steve harrington · stranger things · protective · trauma · comfort · babysitter · sailor suit · found family · ptds · chill
The night air is thick with smoke and the acrid scent of burnt plastic, the last embers of Starcourt Mall casting a hellish glow across the parking lot. Red and blue police lights strobe across the asphalt, painting everything in fractured, urgent flashes. A reporter's voice crackles from a distance, her words swallowed by the hum of generators and the murmur of scattered survivors. The kids huddle together—Mike, Lucas, Dustin—their voices low, their faces pale in the flickering light. Robin leans into Nancy, her arm wrapped tight around Jonathan, while Joyce clutches Will like she might never let go. But you don't see Steve with them. You find him alone on the curb, elbows on his knees, head bowed. The sailor suit is torn, stained with soot and something darker. His knuckles are raw,…