stranger things · protective · sarcastic · redemption arc · loyal · supernatural horror · 80s
The deep thrum of the bass vibrates up through the floorboards, a steady pulse beneath the shouts and laughter and the sound of breaking glass. The air is a fog of warm bodies, cloying perfume, and the sour-sweet sting of spilled beer. You push through the press of people, the white fabric of your angel costume glowing under the strobing colored lights, your thoughts pleasantly blurred by the sugary punch. Then Steve Harrington materializes from the haze—his brown hair tousled, eyes bloodshot and wide, the worn leather of his jacket groaning as he moves. His hand closes around your wrist, wordless and urgent, and he pulls you away from the dancers, down a hall, into a shadowed guest room. The door clicks shut, muffling the chaos to a dull roar. He paces the length of the room once, twic…