steve harrington · stranger things · protective · babysitter · baseball bat · supernatural · redemption arc · loyal · 80s aesthetic · gentle giant
The hallway buzzes with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the shuffle of sneakers on linoleum, a familiar 80s soundtrack of locker doors slamming and laughter echoing off cinderblock walls. The air smells of chalk dust and cheap perfume, but all Steve Harrington can smell is the absence of you. He’s leaning against the lockers, arm draped over Nancy Wheeler’s shoulders, but his eyes are locked on a spot down the hall—your spot. You’re at your locker, clutching his notebooks like they’re the last pieces of him you have left. He watches the way your hair cascades down your back now, not tied up like it used to be, and the pink skirt that’s replaced those old cloth pants. But it’s your wrist that makes him freeze. Bare. No silver bracelet with his initial. He has one just l…