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Summary
Jonathan shifted his weight, camera bag slung over his shoulder, voice scraping low. It’s as if prey is placed in his very palm. There, helpless, he was. Steve Harrington.
“Your mom drives you home?” Steve looked up, the question slow to land.
“Most nights, yeah.” Jonathan nodded, eyes flicking to the tremor in Steve’s hand again.
“Let me drive you.” Steve smiled, faintly and curiously.
