found it in my drafts idk

Mike doesn’t hear El’s voice. She doesn’t speak. Too weak, he supposes. But she’s always there, when he gets back from school, during the campaigns, when he’s dreaming (she’s especially good with dreams). The guys never see her, or they choose not to. Whenever a bulb flashes away during a campaign, whether it be during a celebration or a failure, they all give him sympathetic looks as Mike’s face lights up in a smile. But that’s okay. Because he knows it’s her.

After a year, he finally hears her. When Hopper shows up at his basement door, a fragile girl bundled in his arms, she says just one word, but it’s enough to make Mike start crying. “Mike.”

Me, an ace, trying to write sexual attraction
  • Me: okay, so how do I write this?
  • Brain: Idk figure it out yourself lol
  • Me: okay... so what about this
  • Brain: that's aesthetic attraction.
  • Me: oh okay. This?
  • Brain: Sensual attraction
  • Me: THEN HOW DO I WRITE THIS?!
  • Brain: IDK THEY WANT TO FUCK OR SOMETHING?
  • ME: HOW THE FUCK DOES THAT WORK?
  • BRAIN: IDK MAN I DON'T GET IT EITHER

There are a lot of people in the Haus, and Nursey doesn’t want to talk to any of them, so when he gets home he heads straight for him and Dex’s room, and then straight for his bed. He doesn’t put any effort at all into flopping onto his mattress, his backpack still strapped on and his shoes toeing the floor. 

He’d spent all day telling himself that he’d feel better once he got into bed, but he doesn’t. He feels like his skin is crawling and he feels like something is wrong and he feels like the air around him is weighing too heavily on his skin. He can breathe fine and he can move fine and he is fine, but he also isn’t and he hates it.

When his bedroom door opens a little while later and he hears a set of footsteps fall short suddenly, he wants to disappear.

When he feels the footsteps start up again, moving towards him, he shies away.

“Nursey,” Dex says, his voice sounding like a question and a warning, as he stops in front of the bed and kneels down. “What’s up?”

Nursey doesn’t have words to explain what’s up. He doesn’t have words to explain how fundamentally off he feels, so he hugs his pillow tighter and rolls onto his side and eventually he says, “I’m just really tired,” and Dex’s brow furrows.

“Tired?” he repeats, and when Nursey just barely nods, he reaches out a hand that looks like it’s headed for Nursey’s forehead, but Nursey pulls away again.

Dex looks hurt but he doesn’t say anything so, after a long moment, Nursey does. He closes his eyes and wrinkles his brow and he says, “I feel gross,” and it’s true, and it’s the most accurate thing he’s said so far.

He feels gross, and he doesn’t want to be touched and he doesn’t want to move and he just barely wants to exist at all and, when he opens his eyes, Dex is frowning.

“Gross?” he repeats and, when Nursey nods again, he purses his lips. “Are you getting sick?”

Nursey shakes his head.

“Have you tried having a shower?”

Another, slightly smaller, shake.

“I could wash your sheets?”

Nursey closes his eyes in response to that one, and Dex sighs.

“I could clean the room?” he tries, and Nursey loves him for trying so instead of shaking his head or frowning or looking away, this time he grabs Dex’s hand and pulls it into his heart, still curling up in a ball, but feeling a bit better about it now.

“Can you just stay here a while?” Nursey asks, and it’s more of a mumble than anything, but Dex nods and he smiles a bit too.

“Yeah,” he says, more a whisper than anything, “I can do that.”