❝ and suddenly i'm an angel on the cutting room floor, wearing gore, a blank stare, not much more.❞
-daphne gottlieb
STRANGER THINGS SEASONS 2 - 4
。° fem oc x steve harrington
。° fem oc x robin buckley
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Hawkins, Indiana December 24, 1983
AT THE CORNER OF DEARBORN AND MAPLE, a two-story home stood, lined with a porch and flowerbeds covered in snow. Frostbitten ivy twisted up through the cracks of a stone path, leading directly to where the veranda met blue siding. The house sparkled against the winter air, polished like sea glass. Every angle told a story. The story of two Korean immigrants who found each other in America and peddled their way to stability. Who brought to their two children the kind of financial comfort they, as children, could hardly fathom.
Melanie Lee was never sure she was repaying her parents enough. While Alice and Sungho Lee would push any barrier to be as respected as their white peers, Mel didn't seem to inherit their same sense of spirit. There had never been a flicker in time she could look back at and pinpoint the true bravery of one who stood against adversity. All she could find real worth in was the ink-circled A'sshe saw on all her school papers. Or the times she'd been flashed a brittle smile from her ballet teacher, who would otherwise glare and critique and shame.
Even now, as she sat up in the loft of her bedroom watching snowflakes collect on the divets of her windowpane, Mel felt the need to assess herself. What was she doing of use, sitting alone on a Saturday afternoon?
I'm reading. Reading sparks an influx of knowledge. Knowledge is the greatest tool one can equip in a world full of idiots.
And so she exhaled, deep earthen eyes falling back upon the book balanced on her thighs. Suddenly, she was no longer pressed up against the headboard of her bed but sucked back into a world of romance and hardship. A world where she didn't have to think about what the next line would be. It was already written and certainly didn't depend on her.
As she read into the next line of dialogue, her hair flowed down over her shoulders in a mess of black. Her cheeks, round and pallid, flushed a subtle pink.
