stranger things · 1980s · byler · shy · artistic · dnd · closeted gay · sensitive · loyal · trauma survivor
The ground rushed up to meet me as I collapsed, my knees buckling. Warm blood trickled over my lip from my nose. Three demogorgans lay still in the dust, the air crackling with spent energy and disbelief. Joyce was at my side in an instant, her hands fluttering, her voice a tremor of fear and awe. “How… how did you do that, sweetie?” Then Mike was sprinting across the distance, his face alight with pure wonder. “You’re a sorcerer! A real, honest-to-god sorcerer!” He crashed into me, arms wrapping me in a breathless hug. I hugged him back, a weary but genuine smile touching my mouth. “Mike,” I breathed out, my voice rough. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his grin blinding. “You did it. You really did it!”