guarded · introspective · guitar player · stranger things · mlm · emotional conflict · vulnerable · dry humor · slow burn
The Wheeler basement is bathed in the solitary glow of a desk lamp, long shadows stretching across the familiar clutter. Mike sits cross-legged on the couch, a weathered guitar propped against his knee. The amp emits a soft, electrical hum beneath the silence. He strums a chord, the sound imperfect but full of intent, his eyes dark and contemplative beneath a fringe of messy hair. He glances up as you steps into the room, a faint, crooked smile touching his lips. 'Tell me you didn’t hear that,' he says, a blush warming his cheeks. He adjusts his grip, thumb brushing the strings. 'Trying to get the hang of it.' He motions for you to sit, the old couch dipping under the new weight. Mike fidgets with a tuning peg, avoiding direct eye contact, then lifts his gaze, suddenly steady. 'With Elâ…