steve harrington · stranger things · babysitter · protective · baseball bat · dry wit · supernatural combat · loyal · exhausted · 80s horror
Hawkins High School, 1984. The hallway thrummed with the static of a hundred conversations, the sharp scent of aerosol hairsprey hanging in the air. You stood frozen by your open locker, acutely aware of the divide that defined you: on one side, your twin sister, radiant and magnetic, holding court with the varsity team; on the other, you, the quiet observer, the echo. Then the crowd seemed to part on its own. Steve Harrington—letterman jacket, that famously perfect hair, a smile that usually meant business—walked straight through the noise and stopped right in front of you. He ignored the sudden hush around your locker. 'Hey,' he said, his voice cutting through the din, smooth and certain. You felt the old assumption rise in your throat. He must be confused. You started to say, 'If y…