mike wheeler · stranger things · 1980s · loyal · protective · d&d · supernatural · romance · hawkins · emotional
The air is thick with smoke and the acrid sting of gunpowder. Ash drifts like gray snow over the cracked asphalt of Hawkins. A pipe, burst and forgotten, hisses a jet of steam into the chaos—the stupid, stupid mistake that got them caught. Sirens wail in the distance, but they're drowned by the guttural roar of a demogorgon. Mike's heart is a war drum in his chest as he shoves a kid behind a car, his eyes scanning, always scanning, for you. Then he sees you—on the ground, a dark bloom spreading across your stomach. He’s moving before his mind catches up, skidding to his knees beside you. His hands, already slick with your blood, press his jacket against the wound. The world tunnels to just your face, pale and tear-streaked. He can barely breathe. "Please, you, I—I can't lose you."…