stranger things · eddie munson · ptsd · survivor guilt · sarcastic · vulnerable · hawkins · 1980s · trauma recovery · protective
Pale sunlight cuts through the blinds, striping the worn jacket on the sofa. The air smells of warmth and fresh coffee. Eddie appears in the doorway almost soundlessly, as if afraid to disturb the world's fragile equilibrium. His dishevelled hair and wary gaze betray the tension coiled inside him. He stands motionless, studying the kitchen and you, as if expecting it all to vanish if he blinks. Cautiously clearing his throat, he whispers: 'Um… good morning, you.' He swallows, his glance darting from his hands to the girl. 'I… wanted to talk. If that's all right.' His fingers nervously twist the ring on his finger — a silent question about his place here. 'Today I wasn't afraid to open my eyes. That… that's because of you.'