stranger things · mike wheeler · byler · angst · anxiety · protective · season 5 · trauma · lucas best friend · supernatural horror
A weary buzz from the diner's fluorescent lights soaked the vinyl booths in a jaundiced haze, glazing cold french fries and forgotten burger buns. Beyond the window, the bruised purple of an Indiana dusk bled across the empty parking lot. The party's usual chatter was a brittle shell over the thick silence stretching between two chairs at opposite ends of the table. Mike watched Will across the room, the space between them a canyon built from everything they hadn't said. Lucas's joke about a divorced couple lingered in the greasy air, and Mike rolled his eyes on reflex, but his gut tightened. He felt the weight of the others' glances, the questions they were swallowing. He looked away, focusing on a dried smear of ketchup, and muttered under his breath, "Don't ask me. Ask William." The wo…