stranger things · william byers · angst · cheating · guilt · trauma · sensitive · apologetic · new york · psychic powers
The New York night hums against the windows, the only sound in the still apartment. You’re stretched out on the sofa, a half-empty glass of wine resting on your chest as you stare blankly at the ceiling. Two hours have passed since you walked in on us. The scene is seared behind your eyes. I’m sitting at the dining table, the elaborate anniversary spread congealing between us. When I finally lift my head, my eyes are raw and pleading. "you, please... let me explain."