Steve Harrington Character Study - Tumblr Posts

I may have realized this crazy late, but Steve's dream of having 6 kids and traveling during the summer in an motorhome is a stark contrast to how he lived his childhood, which is probably the reason he has this dream in the first place.

Steve is likely an only child, which would make him probably feel lonely, as he never had anyone to play with or even talk to, especially during his childhood. He had Tommy and Carol, sure, but they couldn't stay at his house all of the time. They couldn't play games or talk until past their bedtimes, they couldn't be there when he was having a rough time at home, they often couldn't walk with him to school.

Steve would always be jealous of people with siblings, because, even though he was always told that it sucked to have a brother or sister, he could see how much they all cared for each other, how they were always there. He could see how they would keep an eye out for one another, always bickering fondly, all bark no bite. How they were always around, a lingering presence that would be annoying but oddly comforting. Mike and Nancy still took care of each other, even though they tried to show that they hated each other (Steve could still see that they were close, though), and Jonathan would never hurt Will. He was always there, always grounding Will when life became too much. They were all as close as can be. Bonded by blood and family.

Steve wanted that, and, as much as Dustin was like a younger brother to him, he couldn't help but feel like he was still missing something, missing the connection to someone else that Will and Jonathan had, or even Mike or Nancy. A connection only those connected by blood had.

He promised himself that, if he had a kid, he would have another, because he never wanted his child to feel lonely. To miss that sibling playfulness and affection that Steve never experienced himself. To be lonely, to lack a presence that many others had. To never have someone who knew them more than even parents did.

His summers were filled with parties full of people but empty of meaning. He was always stuck in Hawkins, chained to his house and his pool , while his parents went everywhere. Paris. Italy. Greece. Egypt. New York. Canada. Everywhere. But he never went with them, he never went anywhere. He got used to seeing the same trees, the same roads, the same buildings, and his heart yearned for something more. There was a whole world out there that he wanted to see, one that he desperately reached for, a world that refused to let him in. He got used to the sick feeling in the stomach knowing that he would see the same sights every year, that he would be stuck. He never wanted anyone else to feel this way, especially his children.

Steve figured that summer trips in a motorhome would be perfect. As much as it would be a lot of driving, he and his family could go anywhere they wanted to, stop at ever sight and take photos by as much nature and life as they wanted. They could play silly games in the car, laugh over stories, and bicker like families do. Long gone would be the parties filled with fake smiles, a fake happiness that would fade by morning. Everything would change, there would be genuine happiness, and no one would feel alone or trapped.

This was Steve Harrington's dream. He wanted a life for his kids that he never had himself, a life that he yearned for, a life full of relationships and experiences and love. A life that his kids would be thankful for, and one that he would be thankful for, too.

Steve had always felt that he never understood the idea of a home. 

He remembered, in fourth grade, his teacher asking the class what “home” was. Tommy Hagan had said home was where his bedroom was, Carol said that it was where her clothes were. Other kids said that it was where their parents were, their house, where they didn't have to be scared, where they were happy. Steve didn’t have an answer to the question, because what was a home? What was his home?

He thought about his bedroom, maybe, like Tommy, that could be his home? But yet, he couldn’t help but feel a twisting feeling in his gut at the thought of his room. With its beige walls with brown stripes, matching curtains, plain bedsheets and a plain desk covered in books that he could barely understand, he didn’t think that it was home. His dad threw away all of his toys a couple of weeks ago, all but a basketball and a football, so there was nothing there that he loved. Why would Tommy feel at home in his bedroom? Steve hated his. Was that wrong?

Steve didn’t have any clothes that he liked, so that couldn’t be his home. His mom always bought his, telling him to wear them without complaint. He didn’t complain. Really, he didn’t! He just never liked the shirts she bought him, they were too plain, and the pants he had to wear were too itchy. 

Home was where his parents were? His parents had been going on longer trips, did that mean that his home was where they were traveling? Was that his home? But, he’s never been there! That didn’t make sense, did it? 

And, Steve was always scared at his house in Loch Nora. It was so big, filled with empty space, echoing hallways that sometimes creaked. Anything could jump out at him, and his dad was never home to stop the monsters from crawling out from under his bed! How was he not supposed to be afraid? 

And, he knew for a fact that he wasn’t happy there. He hated going back to his house. He would rather spend his time playing with Tommy and Carol in the park, or in the school gym, or even at someone else’s house. Never his own. 

So, what was his home? Was it somewhere far away, where his parents were? Was it his strange bedroom that felt like it was meant for someone else? Was it the clothes he hated, the empty hallways that never ended? He didn’t know. He didn’t know. 

And, that day, in fourth grade, Steve Harrington realized that he didn’t have a home, and he probably never would. 

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At 20 years old, Steve finally realized what a home was. 

Home wasn’t a place, it wasn’t a bedroom, and it certainly wasn’t parents that didn’t care for him. 

Home was a girl who never pushed him away, who loved him for who he was, who was his platonic soulmate, the one person he never knew that he needed but was so, so thankful to have.

Home was a child genius with curly hair and a ballcap, spouting nerdy science facts every second, who teased Steve endlessly but cared for him like a brother. 

Home was a young girl with a heart of fire, one who had been through too much pain and suffering but never gave up, who lay in a hospital bed, waiting for rescue. 

Home was a group of people who cared for him, who had fought in countless battles with him, beside him, who gave him names that meant more to him than they knew. Babysitter. Dingus. Friend. Hero. 

Home was an army of over a dozen people, each with their own weapons, their own strengths, their own weaknesses, their own passions, their own struggles. 

Home was a family of misfits, every single person cracked and bruised from one thing or another, but still standing strong, holding each other together in unity, in strength, and in courage. 

And that’s how they stood now, standing on the edge of a red gate, a gray sky above them, weapons in hand, an enemy below them. 

Steve now had a home. And he would do anything to protect it. To protect them.

Vecna didn’t stand a chance.

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Author's note: This was written in an attempt to get me writing again (I haven't had the motivation to write in a week or so...so I needed to get it back lol). So, I'm not sure how good this was, but I hope that you all enjoyed it! It should be posted on AO3 soon!