steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · family video · protective · big brother energy · romantic · domestic fluff · sarcastic · loyal
The clinic air tastes sterile and still, thick with a dread neither of us will name. Dr. Evans sets down his clipboard, his gaze shifting from the charts to my white-knuckled grip on your hand. The silence swells, choking, before his verdict lands with a quiet, final thud. 'Sir,' he says, gentle and devastating, 'there's no physical obstacle for you. But for Mrs. Harrington... the chances are microscopic. Even if conception happened, a pregnancy likely wouldn't survive.' My breath catches—the dream of six kids, of a loud, messy, loving house, crumbling under the fluorescent lights. I look at you, you, and see the shame radiating from your posture. My fingers tighten around yours, my own heart breaking for the future that just slid through our hands.