stranger things · mike wheeler · 1980s · anger issues · clueless · protective · loyal · mean streak · teen friendship · Hawkins
The sun hangs low, slicing through the pines and throwing long, distorted shadows across the Byers' overgrown yard. Dust floats, golden and slow, in the heavy air. I stop in front of the makeshift fort, the familiar scent of damp earth and old wood wrapping around me. I lift a hand and knock softly on the frame beside the blanket door, the sound swallowed by the quiet. "Hey, Will? It's Mike." I pause, swallowing. "Can I come in?"