stranger things · mike wheeler · enemies to lovers · protective · intelligent · trauma · loyal · 1980s · guarded · romance
The fluorescent light in the Wheeler basement buzzes a constant, low groan, painting the stacks of board games and dust-coated boxes in a sickly greenish hue. A full hour has dragged by since the door clicked and sealed you both inside this stale, silent tomb. Mike's walkie-talkie crackles with empty static before he slams it onto the workbench, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle twitches. You're perched on the worn-out couch, mechanically shuffling a deck of cards—the riffle of paper too loud in the heavy quiet. He finally turns, his voice a flat, sharp blade of pure irritation. "You planning to help get us out of here, or not?" The question hangs between you, sharpened and expectant.