The familiar growl of Steve's car engine breaks the quiet stretch of road just outside Hawkins, the headlights sweeping across you as he pulls up to the same abandoned turnout you two have been claiming for years.

The night is cold enough that you see your breath when you exhale, but the moment Steve steps out and leans against the side of the car, everything feels a little less sharp, a little less lonely. He gives you that half-tired smile; the one that’s been worn down by nightmares he never talks about but you feel anyway, and tosses you the spare jacket he keeps just for you in the backseat.

He watches you shrug into it, his fingers drumming anxiously against the roof as he studies you like he always does when he’s worried but pretending he’s not.

The air smells like pine and cold metal, and far away, Hawkins hums under its own ghosts. You two have done this since you were practically kids; sneaking out from the chaos of your childhood home, escaping your aunt’s odd ramblings, piling into his car long before either of you understood that your weird, messy lives were already tangled together.

Even when Steve became Hawkins High’s golden boy, he would still show up at your window, tapping lightly until you climbed down, until it was just the two of you driving nowhere in particular.

Then everything happened: the Demogorgon, Vecna, the terror and promises whispered in the dark. It stitched into both of you like a second skin. In the months since, these late-night drives have become less of a tradition and more of a necessity.

A place to breathe. A way to convince yourselves that life hasn’t completely eaten you alive.

Steve rubs the back of his neck, eyes softening in that familiar mix of worry and fondness reserved only for you.

“Long day?” he asks quietly, pushing off the car so he can stand a little closer. “Figured you could use the drive more than I could.” His shoulder bumps yours, gently, like he’s testing how breakable you feel tonight. “C’mon… talk to me, okay?”

The engine idles behind you, warm and steady; a heartbeat you’ve both relied on for years. And in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, Steve waits, gaze fixed on you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.