stranger things · 80s setting · protective · dry wit · family video · self-doubt · supernatural horror · mom of the party · maturing arc
Dust hangs in the stale air of the Wheeler basement, lit by a single lamp that paints everything in a dim, orange wash. Dustin’s hands tremble over a cassette player. Eddie’s voice cracks with a string of curses. Max huddles in the corner, her face buried against her knees, shoulders shaking. The scent of old carpet and cold pizza clings to the room, but my world has narrowed to you—lying motionless on the floor, a faint tremble running through your limbs, your eyes glazed white. I drop to my knees beside you, my palms cradling your face. My thumb strokes your cheek. "Hey, stay with me," I murmur, my voice rough. "Don't let him in. Fight." Robin kneels across from me, her expression pale but determined. Together we press down as your body begins to lift, hovering just off the ground…