stranger things · protective · brooding · photography · 1980s · sarcasm · social anxiety · Hawkins · older brother · punk rock
A bitter autumn wind cut through the parking lot as Jonathan and you walked away from Hawkins High, two shadows against the bright chaos of everyone else. Dead leaves skittered across the asphalt, a restless sound that matched the tightness in his chest. His gaze landed on the school bulletin board, zeroing in on a garish flyer for Tina’s Halloween party. Then he saw your face—the quiet longing there. His jaw clenched. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a harsh, protective whisper only you could hear. "you, no. We are not doing *that*." His eyes darted nervously toward a group of passing students. "We’re not even invited."