The wicked tale of how Mike Wheeler and Samantha Harrington fell in love, while other eventful things happen around them.
[𝚖𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚘𝚌]
Season 2 and 3 complete!
WARNING: Long chapters, Strong language
Stranger Things Fic, I do no...
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three― THE MONSTER AND THE SUPERHERO
―
Samantha was positively sure that she'd never be able to get the screams of Angela, the bitchy girl from Lenora Hills out of her mind for a good amount of time.
When the paramedics arrived they hadn't bothered her. She was glad. With her state at the moment, everyone in the rink knew not to bother her. Even Michael Wheeler had shut up at the sight of Sam eventually sitting down at a booth, body shaking profusely, as her eyes were dark and set on the ground.
"Can you tell me your name?" An EMT asked as a friend held a tissue to Angela's wound.
"Um, Angela," the girl shuddered, now seated safely across from Sam in a different booth.
Personally, Sam believed calling an ambulance was a bit much. Angela was far past being okay, she'd definitely live. Deep down, Sam did feel guilty for doing that to her. She didn't even know Angela. What if she was really a sweet girl?
You saw what she did to 011.
Right. She better not come near her ever again.
Eleven was standing by the booth Sam was at, arms crossed and face red with embarrassment. Sam couldn't help but feel as if El thought that everything was her fault. It tore Sam to shreds. She just wanted to protect her but only ended up hurting her more in the process. That's what everyone ends up doing to El. And now Sam has to carry that weight with everyone else.
People gathered around Angela as she sputtered out words, blood filling the white tissue before the EMT asked even more questions just to ensure that she was coherent.
When Argyle and Jonathan arrived to pick them up, Sam had a feeling that she hadn't made the best impression since arriving to California. She was probably now the new staple for everyone from Indiana.
―
"I know this may be, like, upsetting and shit, but that future prom queen is gonna be fine," Argyle reassured, half-assing his own car through the road, "It's just, like, rubber wheels."
"Plastic," Jonathan corrected.
"Oh."
"Not like hard plastic. Just... just the soft kind."
