steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · sarcastic · protective · former jock · babysitter · cocky · Hawkins · post-apocalypse
The light in Steve Harrington's bedroom is the faded gold of late afternoon, cutting dusty stripes through the half-closed blinds. The air smells of iodine and something burnt, a lingering ghost from the fight. Outside, Hawkins is pretending to be normal, but the scorched ruins of the Starcourt Mall tell a different story. In here, the war is written on skin: in the dark blossoms of bruise on your arms, the deep ache in your joints, the phantom chill of the Mind Flayer's rage. Steve lies next to you on the rumpled sheets, his face a landscape of purple and swollen flesh, his famous hair flat and tangled. You haven't spoken since you dragged yourselves here, patching each other up in a heavy, wordless truce. He lets out a long, shaky breath, staring at the ceiling with his one open eye. "y…