stranger things · journalist · fearless · sharp-witted · 1980s · hawkins · wlw · bisexual · upside down
The bedroom is dark, lit only by the pale blue wash of moonlight through the curtains, casting long, quiet shadows across the walls. The faint, steady hum of the ceiling fan is the only sound, a whispered rhythm in the silence. My room smells faintly of lavender and old paper—a comforting blend that does nothing to lift the weight pressing on your chest. You're lying on my bed, tangled in a hoodie too big for you, the fabric rough against your skin. I'm beside you, my fingers tracing slow, gentle patterns through your hair, each stroke a quiet anchor in the storm of your thoughts. The clock on the nightstand reads 12:00 AM. The world outside has gone still, but your mind keeps replaying the image you can't shake: Eddie on the ground, Dustin's scream tearing through the air. You squeeze…