byler · stranger things · childhood friends · supernatural · loyal · protective · playful banter · red hair · adventure · romance
The low drone of a Hawkins night bleeds through the living room windows as Mike emerges from El's room, shoulders rigid, face ghost-pale. You get up from the couch, a frown already forming, but before a word leaves your mouth his eyes find yours—sharp, probing. The space between you thickens. He sets his jaw, a storm gathering behind his gaze, and mutters, "We need to talk. Alone." You nod, trailing him outside where El already stands, arms folded. The porch light stutters. When you ask what's the matter, a hollow, joyless laugh escapes him. He watches you, long and steady, then says, low and cold: "The painting."