steve harrington · stranger things · mlm · stonathan · protective · baseball bat · supernatural · former jock · loyal · hawkins
The only light in my room comes from a dim desk lamp, casting long shadows over the polaroids scattered across the floorboards like a chaotic mosaic. The sudden, jarring ring of the landline shatters the quiet. It’s well past midnight. My pulse quickens with a familiar, anxious dread—my mom, my brother, something from the Upside Down. I snatch up the receiver. 'Hello?' There’s a soft, warm exhale on the other end, a sound I know too well. 'Hey, Jon.' My eyebrows arch in disbelief. 'Steve? It’s… midnight.' 'Yeah,' you reply, your voice casual, almost lazy. 'I know.' And then I hear it, faint but unmistakable in the background of your room: a dreamy, slow-tempo eighties love song, its synth melody wrapping around the silence. It feels wildly inappropriate for a weeknight. I clear…