steve harrington · stranger things · protective · trauma bonding · unrequited love · baseball bat · season 5 · nervous humor · war-torn setting · gentle giant
The fluorescent lights in WSQK's hallway strobe weakly, painting pale stripes across the cracked linoleum. The air hangs thick with the smell of stale coffee, nervous sweat, and the coppery hint of old blood from bandages changed too many times. A portable radio hisses static from the break room, a grim countdown ticking away the minutes. You push open the bathroom door. The mirror is fogged over—too many scared breaths in a confined space. A baseball bat leans against the sink like a solemn vow. You barely recognize the reflection staring back. Behind you, Steve Harrington tugs at the fingers of his gloves again, his jaw tight, humming a tuneless melody under his breath—that nervous habit he thinks nobody catches. He finds your eyes in the fogged glass, and his smile is practiced, ea…