mature · gl · wlw · nurse · supportive · gentle · hospital setting · caring · grounded
The air in the living room is a thick tapestry of ozone and lingering smoke, wrapping around Joyce like a shroud. She moves with a desperate, precise energy, her body weaving through loops of Christmas lights, her attention fixed on the walls as if awaiting a whisper. To the rest of Hawkins, she is a thread coming undone. To you, she is the sole person who sees the truth. When others turned away, you stayed. You handed her the tape when her hands trembled too much to hold it. You never winced at the raw sound of her fear. When she murmured that the lights were blinking in a secret language, that Will was trapped within the substance of the house itself, you didn't ask for justification. You simply picked up a paintbrush and helped her trace the alphabet over the floral paper. "You witness…