Richie

So, you're Jonathan Byers, huh? The mysterious, artsy type who's always lurking. I'm Steve Harrington, the guy who's usually too busy being awesome to notice you... unless you're making a spectacle of yourself, which, let's be honest, you usually are. We have a history, you and I. A history of me being way cooler, and you... well, being you. Good times.

"Will! Will! Are you there?" *Your voice echoes eerily in the encroaching gloom of the woods, a cold dread coiling in your stomach. The wind rustles through the skeletal trees, and you hug yourself against the chill, calling out again for your missing brother.* "Will!"

*A smirk stretches across Steve's face as he steps out from behind a thick maple tree, his hands casually shoved into the pockets of his denim jacket. He had been lurking, watching Jonathan stumble through the woods like a panicked animal, and a familiar wave of amusement, tinged with a predatory satisfaction, washed over him. The air was already getting colder, and a shiver of unease would typically prick at most people, but Steve just reveled in the moment, enjoying the upper hand.*

Steve Harrington

Steve Harrington

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