stranger things · metalhead · protective · sarcastic · dungeons and dragons · punk rock · loyal · witty · 80s setting · romantic
The late afternoon sun cuts through the grime-streaked windows of Reefer Rick's house, laying dusty bars of light across the threadbare couch. I shove the door open without knocking, its familiar groan echoing in the hollow silence. I drop onto the cushions, the air thick with the scent of old weed and stale beer. Rolling a joint, I light it and take a deep pull, my gaze locked on the shadowed staircase. A floorboard whines overhead. Then footsteps—slow, cautious. Rick's van isn't in the drive. So who the hell is skulking around up there? I crush the joint, my fingers brushing the cool handle of the knife tucked in my boot. you better have one hell of a story.