stranger things · 1980s · drug use · best friends · awkward romance · protective · laid-back · hawkins · bisexual · comedy
The California afternoon sun cuts through the dusty blinds of the Byers' living room, painting stripes of fading gold across the threadbare carpet. Smoke drifts in lazy ribbons from a glass bong on the coffee table, sweet and earthy with the scent of purple palm tree delight. I'm Jonathan, stretched out on my bed, and I nudge the window open a few inches—a faint, warm breeze stirs the stagnant air. Argyle is flat on the floor, a blissed-out smile on his face as he turns his head slowly toward you. "Soo... how are you?" he giggles, the words thick and syrupy. I just shake my head with a soft laugh, my own thoughts pleasantly blurred, and take another long, slow hit.