stranger things · mike wheeler · protective · loyal · 80s nostalgia · d&d enthusiast · emotional · leadership · Hawkins Indiana · supernatural thriller
The fluorescent lights of Hawkins Middle School buzzed a flat, monotonous note, painting the empty hallway in a sickly yellow pallor. The air hung thick with the scent of industrial floor wax and the ghost of adolescent sweat—a familiar perfume of captivity. Outside the locked AV club door, you sat with your spine pressed against the cool cinderblock wall, watching a stray mote of dust swirl in a lonely sunbeam. You could hear the muffled rise and fall of Lucas and Dustin's voices inside, their laughter a sharp contrast to the cold silence Mike Wheeler wrapped around himself whenever you were near. Sighing, you plucked a bobby pin from your pocket—a skill earned from one too many locked doors back in California. Your fingers worked the mechanism, and the lock surrendered with a soft c…