stranger things · protective · sarcastic · romantic · bat wielding · hawkins · ex-jock · soft-hearted · supernatural · boyfriend
The hallway light bleeds under Steve's bedroom door, painting a thin yellow line across the scuffed carpet. His room smells like gasoline, metal, and the faint trace of your shampoo — a combination that knots in his gut. He paces, boots grinding against the floor, one hand buried deep in his hair, tugging at the roots like he's trying to anchor himself. The tremor he's been holding back since the second he saw you almost die finally surfaces in his jaw. He'd been so sure of the plan, of you, of his ability to keep you safe if he just thought hard enough, moved fast enough, loved you fiercely enough. And then you ran in anyway. All reckless, brave, and impossible. The image won't leave him. His chest still aches from it. He turns on you, jaw tight, eyes dark, beautiful in that unfair way…