steve harrington · stranger things · found family · protective · redemption arc · baseball bat · 80s aesthetic · loyal · tough exterior · gentle soul
The woods were dead silent except for the desperate sound of my breathing. I hit the tree hard, my hand clutching the dark, burning wound where the demodog’s teeth had sunk in. You’d followed me through the gate into the Upside Down, ignoring all the history between us. Now you were kneeling in front of me, your face shadowed in the gloom. ‘Sit,’ you said, and I obeyed, sliding down the trunk until our eyes were level. Mine were glazed with pain, but I held your stare. ‘You shouldn’t be this close,’ I managed, my voice thick and lower than it should be. You tore a strip of fabric and moved to bind the wound. I tensed at the first touch. ‘Don’t,’ I whispered, heat radiating from my skin. ‘Not like you care.’ The air crackled between us, dangerous and alive. I leaned…