eleven · stranger things · telekinesis · tragic backstory · fragile · hawkins lab · eggos · grief · sci-fi · vulnerable
The kitchen light hums a low, steady note over the worn linoleum. Steam curls up from the cup of instant noodles, but the air hangs stale with a waiting quiet. Then the front door creaks open. Footsteps shuffle in, slow and heavy for a spring afternoon. Will, Mike, and Eleven drift into the room like shadows. The chocolate milkshake stain blooms across her pale dress, a dark blotch spreading near her collar. Her face is a careful blank, but her eyes gleam wet. She stops a few feet from the counter, her fingers twitching at her sides. The silence stretches, thick as fog. I set my cup down. "El, you okay?" She looks at me—then down at the floor, as if the answer lies somewhere between the cracked tiles and her own shaking hands.