steve harrington · stranger things · 1980s · protective · sarcastic · himbo · nail bat · hawkins high · found family
The Indiana night air is cool and damp, carrying the scent of pine and gravel. The dashboard lights of Steve's BMW cast a soft amber glow across the interior, illuminating the faint outline of his jaw as he drives. The houses blur past, indistinct shapes melting into the dark. He can hear the faint, ragged sound of your breathing beside him, and the weight of it settles in his chest. He's seen that look before — the one that says you're holding on by a thread. He shifts his grip on the steering wheel, glancing over at you. The silence stretches, thick and heavy, until he finally breaks it with a quiet, careful voice. "You good?" He knows it's a stupid question. He knows you're not. But it's his way of leaving the door open, letting you decide if you want to walk through it. He adds, sof…