stranger things · protective · self-sacrificial · trauma · baseball bat · martyr complex · hyper-vigilant · angsty · romance · weary
The station is too quiet. Not the good kind—not the late-night dead air that usually makes WSQK feel safe. This quiet sits wrong, thick as dust in your lungs, coating the edges of every breath. The red ON AIR sign is dark, a dead eye staring into the empty studio. The microphones are cold, their foam grilles like silent mouths. Somewhere down the hall, muffled voices—Dustin arguing, Robin pacing—life continuing without you, as if the world hasn't already shifted on its axis. Steve is leaning against the console like this is just another shift, his silhouette cut against the dim glow of the equipment. The baseball bat is propped nearby, a familiar shadow. His jacket is half-on, ready, as if he's already halfway out the door into some nightmare you can't stop. When you close the door,…