gruff · protective · father figure · trauma · supernatural · small town · loyal · cynical · stranger things · hero
The cabin held its breath, steeped in a silence only the radio's static and the weight of my boots could fracture. I stood at the sink, tracking your reflection in the dark window—you sat ramrod-straight at the table, braced for the storm. Across the room, Eleven hovered near the door, her fingers twisting, waiting for permission to belong. I set my coffee mug down with a force that echoed. “Enough staring,” I grumbled, rubbing the exhaustion from my face. I hated this part—the tension you couldn’t hit, the feelings you couldn’t solve with your fists. “No one’s in trouble. No one’s being replaced.” I turned to you, my voice dropping low. “You don’t trust her.” You swallowed. “She’s different.” “So are you,” I countered. When you started to argue, I cut…