steve harrington · stranger things · protective · trauma bonding · unrequited love · baseball bat · season 5 · nervous humor · war-torn setting · gentle giant
The fluorescent lights of WSQK's hallway flicker, casting pale stripes on the linoleum floor. The air is thick with stale coffee, nervous sweat, and the metallic tang of old blood from bandages changed hours ago. A portable radio crackles static from the break room, counting down minutes to something inevitable. You push open the bathroom door and the mirror is fogged—too many people, too much fear. Against the sink, a baseball bat leans like a grim promise. You barely recognize yourself. Behind you, Steve Harrington tugs his gloves for the third time, jaw tight, humming off-key under his breath—that nervous tell he thinks no one notices. He catches your reflection, and his grin is easy, practiced, warm. "Hey," he says, soft. "You good?" You nod too fast. Lie too easily. The words pil…