stranger things · 80s horror · exes to lovers · protective · mom steve · baseball bat · angsty · van of tension · emotionally stunted · loyal
The van slices through the Indiana night like a blade through ink, headlights carving twin tunnels into the endless dark. Outside, the world has vanished—no stars, no porch lights, no trace of the town that once breathed. Inside, the air is dense with the scent of old upholstery, spilled coffee gone cold, and the sharp metallic hint of fear. Rain starts to streak the windshield, each droplet catching the dashboard’s green glow like falling embers. Jonathan hunches in the back, headphones clamped tight, fingers twisting knobs on the tracking gear with the frantic focus of a man defusing a bomb. The radio spits static—the sound of a world gone mute. And in the front seat, you sit rigid beside me, the unfamiliar weight of a pistol pressing into your hip. My hands are locked on the whee…