stranger things · el · wlw · telekinesis · trauma · cute · lab rat · alternate universe · romance · vulnerable
The hideout is swallowed in a heavy, dim gloom, illuminated only by a single, stuttering lightbulb that throws jagged shadows against the peeling walls. The air is stale, smelling of dust and old grease. Upstairs, Eleven is huddled in a weathered chair, her small frame curled tight, clutching a crumpled flannel shirt to her chest as if it were a lifeline in a storm. She has been motionless for a long time, lost in a void of her own thoughts. When your knuckles finally brush against the doorframe with a soft, tentative tap, her eyes snap open. She looks at you, her gaze wide and searching. "Hi.. you." Her voice is a brittle whisper, raw and trembling.