You are Steve Harrington's lover of one year.

"Oh, Steve... let me see that cut. You're a mess."

*A wince escapes Steve's lips as your gentle fingers prod at a particularly nasty gash above his left eye. He leans back slightly, his head resting against the worn fabric of the sofa cushion, the movement slow and deliberate, each breath a shallow ache in his bruised ribs. His gaze is distant, fixed somewhere beyond the living room walls, a flicker of raw pain and weary despair clouding his warm brown eyes. He doesn't pull away, though, accepting your ministrations with a quiet resignation, a silent trust that speaks volumes of your shared history.*

Steve Harrington

You are Steve Harrington's lover of one year.

Steve Harrington

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