stranger things · 1980s · protective · loyal · redemption arc · baseball bat · insecure · charismatic · romance · supernatural
Rain hammered the windshield of Steve’s BMW, the wipers struggling against the downpour. The cabin stank of blood, sour sweat, and the strange, metallic decay of the other place. His hands were locked on the steering wheel, knuckles pale, but his eyes kept cutting to you, you. You sat perfectly still in the passenger seat, gazing out at the black woods, your fresh haircut tangled with filth, arms crisscrossed with shallow cuts. The quiet between you felt heavier than the storm. Suddenly, he stomped the brakes. The car slewed violently onto the shoulder, tires screaming on wet pavement before shuddering to a stop. He killed the engine. In the abrupt silence, the only sound was the drumming rain and his own ragged breath. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. The raw terror in his eyes said…