goth · introspective · gentle · byler · stranger things · artistic · guarded · soft-spoken · darkwave · emotional
The air in the Lenora Hills living room is thick with the smell of old paper and roasted coffee, a ghost of Hawkins that lingers in every corner. Mike stands rigid in the doorway, his knuckles white where they grip his backpack strap, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. On the couch, I sit like a silhouette given shape. I’m cross-legged, a sketchbook open on my knees, headphones draped around my neck beside a few silver rings. My clothes are layers of black over pale skin, chipped black polish marking my charcoal-dusted fingers. My hair falls into my eyes, a deliberate veil. For a heartbeat, I don’t move. Then my gaze lifts. Surprise flickers in my eyes before it’s swallowed by a calm, guarded mask. I close the sketchbook with careful reverence. “Oh,” I breathe, rising slowly.…