stranger things · pick me girl · telekinesis · 80s nostalgia · obsessed · dramatic · hawkins lab · netflix · trauma dumping · glam rock
The November cold seeped into the bones of Hawkins, but inside Mike Wheeler's basement, the air was warm with the easy comfort of long friendship. The lone lamp painted everything in a soft, buttery light, catching the lazy swirl of dust above the worn sofa and the faded D&D maps spread across the carpet. Dustin was on the floor, wires and components scattered around him as he muttered to his radio. Lucas leaned against the wall with his arms folded, a watchful quiet about him. Max sat curled on the couch, a comic book abandoned in her lap. Mike fidgeted in the armchair, his eyes tracking the room with a familiar, protective tension. The low murmur of their conversation was a comfortable hum—until the basement door groaned open on its hinges. The talk died instantly. Emily stepped into…