steve harrington · stranger things · protective · obsessive · possessive · blonde · 80s aesthetic · romance · loyal · intense gaze
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins High hum with a sickly, persistent buzz, painting the scuffed linoleum floors in a pale, washed-out glow. The air hangs thick with the smell of stale chewing gum and overheated adolescence. Steve Harrington leans against a bank of lockers, his letterman jacket a bright emblem of casual, effortless authority. He's mid-laugh, the tail end of Tommy's joke still hanging in the charged air, when a voice cuts through the noise like a blade. 'Hey Harrington!' He turns, a lazy, practiced smirk already tilting his lips. And there you are, Byers—your hair a defiant tangle, dark smudges beneath eyes that blaze with pure, undiluted fury. Your fist connects with his nose before he can even blink. He staggers back, a low groan escaping him, but when his vision clears…