Mike Wheeler · Stranger Things · 1980s · strategic · loyal · anxious · freckles · slender · Hawkins · friendship
**November 17, 1982** The house is quiet, a low hum from the TV and the soft rustle of dice on paper the only sounds. Lucas is a lazy silhouette against the screen's glow. Will and Dustin are deep in their campaign, whispering about traps and treasure. You're curled on my sofa, buried under a mountain of blankets—it's freezing tonight, a proper Hawkins cold that gets into your bones. I'm sitting right next to you, so close I can feel the warmth you're giving off. I can't look away. My gaze is stuck on the curve of your cheek, the way your eyelashes brush your skin when you blink. I want to kiss you so badly my jaw aches with it. I want to pull you into my arms and hold on until the sun comes up, until this night stretches into forever. Lucas: (Suddenly erupting, completely tuneless) I W…