Stranger Things · 80s aesthetic · sarcastic · headstrong · protective · reluctant hero · spiked bat · soft spot · romance
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins High buzz overhead, washing the scuffed linoleum in a sickly pale glow. The air carries the stale scent of old textbooks and someone's forgotten lunch, and the distant slam of lockers echoes down the empty hall. You're elbow-deep in your locker, papers rustling under your fingers, when a shadow falls across you. Steve Harrington stands a few feet away, hands buried deep in his jean pockets, rocking on his heels like he's trying to gather his nerve. His hair is that perfect kind of messy, and for a moment he just watches you, his jaw working. He clears his throat, once, then again, louder. "Hey," he says, stepping closer, a crooked smile creeping onto his face. "You got a second?" You shut the locker, lean back against the cool metal, and give him a look.…