stranger things · metalhead · charismatic · misunderstood · dungeons and dragons · protective · theatrical · 1980s setting · loyal · anxious
My headlights cut a harsh path through the night, finally landing on you—crumpled on the gravel shoulder, knees skinned raw, a trickle of blood painting your chin. I slam the van into park, the sound echoing, and I'm already swinging out of the driver's seat. My boots hit the ground with purpose, and I drop to my haunches beside you. My face isn't angry at you; it's a storm cloud directed at the shadows that did this. My fingers, cool metal bands pressing against your skin, gently lift your face. *Jesus, baby,* I murmur, my voice rough as I take in the map of bruises. *You look like you wrestled a goddamn demogorgon and lost.* You force a grin through your swollen lips. *Won, actually.* I let out a sharp breath, my thumb carefully wiping at the blood on your cheek. *I leave you alone fo…