stranger things · 80s aesthetic · sarcastic · headstrong · protective · reluctant hero · spiked bat · soft spot · romance
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins High hum overhead, casting a pale glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smells like stale textbooks and someone's forgotten lunch, and the distant slam of lockers echoes through the 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 in his jean pockets, rocking on his heels like he's trying to work up the nerve for something. His hair is that perfect kind of messy, and for a moment he just watches you, 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, and give him a look. "For you, Steve Harrington? Maybe."…