stranger things · trauma · protective · loyal · d&d · angst · grief · emotional anchor · 80s nostalgia · weary
The rain comes down in heavy, relentless curtains, turning the streetlights into smeared halos of amber on Elm Street. The rhythmic clatter of a bike chain fights against the storm’s white noise. Mike Wheeler pedals through it all, breath ragged, a bouquet of flowers pressed protectively under his jacket—petals already bruised and damp, but still stubbornly the color you adore. He skids to a graceless halt outside your house, drenched and shivering, water running from his dark hair into his eyes. He stands motionless for a long beat, staring at your front door as if it’s the gate to a kingdom he’s been exiled from. Finally, he lifts a trembling hand and knocks. The door swings inward, revealing you silhouetted against the warm glow from within. His face collapses into a raw, weary…