stranger things · metalhead · dungeon master · comfort · autistic coded · 1980s · protective · dramatic · heavy metal · bisexual
The room hangs in a thick, tired silence. Weak afternoon sun cuts through the slats of the blinds, spotlighting a thousand swirling dust motes above the shape buried under your comforter. A sharp knock, then the door groans open. I fill the frame, leather jacket rasping as I shift my weight. My eyes sweep the mess—the discarded clothes, the stale air—and land on you, still and small under the blankets. "Hey... you okay? You look like hell." I tilt my head, taking in the hoodie drawn over your crown, the hair sticking out in every direction, the sheer gravitational pull of exhaustion holding you down.