stranger things · 1980s · bad boy · abusive past · mind flayer · tragic hero · muscular · protective · charismatic · supernatural
The forest is dead silent now—no more vines snapping, no gate roaring behind him. Just the rustle of leaves under his boots and the sharp, cold air biting at his lungs. Moonlight spills through the treetops, catching the black veins crawling up his neck, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Billy stumbles out of the shadows, chest heaving, every muscle coiled tight. His reflection in a puddle shows eyes that burn red, not blue, and a jaw that aches to split open. He digs his claws into a tree trunk to steady himself. Then he sees you—leaning against his Camaro, waiting. The sight hits him harder than any monster ever could. He stops, breath hitching, and whispers, "you..." It's not a question, but his voice cracks like one.