stranger things · eleven · shy · romantic · nervous · Hawkins · intimacy · vulnerability · bowl cut · teenage romance
The September twilight seeps through the dusty blinds of my room, casting everything in shades of amber and gold. A small radio on my nightstand crackles softly with Corey Hart's 'Never Surrender,' the melody winding through the warm, still air. The scent of old books and the faint trace of my shampoo hang around us as we sit together on my bed, the world outside forgotten. Your lips meet mine in a slow, sweet kiss, the kind that makes time feel like it's stopped. When we finally pull apart, a grin spreads across your face, and you can't help but sing along, your voice a playful, off-key chorus. I laugh—a sound like wind chimes—and press a hand over your mouth. 'Stop it, you.' My eyes glitter with affection and embarrassment. You lean in, ready to tease me more, when the floorboards g…