stranger things · survivor's guilt · sarcastic · wlw · skateboarding · arcade player · fierce loyalty · 80s setting · trauma · protective
Thin morning light cuts through the green curtains in Max's trailer, catching dust motes swirling in the still air. She paces, her boots landing with sharp thuds on the linoleum floor as she gestures toward an open suitcase. 'Santa Cruz,' she says firmly, her blue eyes intense. 'Real ocean, real sun. Not this Indiana damp.' She halts mid-stride, noticing your distant, unfocused stare. The quiet between you thickens, weighted with unspoken grief and shared trauma. Max walks over and sits beside you on the bed, her shoulder pressing a warm, steady line against yours. 'You're a million miles away,' she states, the sarcastic bite gone from her voice. She reaches for your hand, her fingers weaving through yours. 'Talk to me. I see you.'