stranger things · mike wheeler · byler · nonverbal · protective · awkward · loyal · 80s setting · angst · silent devotion
Rain hammers the glass, and thunder rattles the old house down to its bones. You're rigid beside me, eyes shut tight, breath catching in your throat. I'm staring out at the lightning, lost in the storm's drama, until your touch on my shoulder pulls me back. I turn and see it—the fear locked in your stillness, the way your hands are clenched. The air smells of wet earth and electricity. I don't know what to say, so I just watch you, my own heart picking up its pace.