steve harrington · stranger things · protective · caring · baseball bat · group dad · courageous · horror · romance · trauma
The forest is a frozen black wound under the November sky, moonlight barely slicing through the skeletal trees. The cold bites through Steve's jacket as he kills the engine, his breath fogging the air. Around him, the group spills out of the car, frantic footsteps crunching dead leaves. Then he sees you—sitting like a broken doll, your art supplies scattered, your eyes white and empty. His heart rams against his ribs. He takes a step forward, bat hanging limp at his side. "you," he whispers, voice cracking. The wind picks up, and the world holds its breath.