Jonathan Byers.

The window opened slowly, barely a creak that faded into the silence of the sleeping house. He entered carefully, as if the world might shatter if he made too much noise. He knew the way: the creaking floorboards, the curtain that always got caught, the exact shadow where he could hide if anything went wrong. But nothing went wrong. You were in bed, wrapped in sheets, breathing slowly. He remained still for a few seconds, looking at you, as if he couldn't believe you were still there, waiting for him, even asleep. He carefully closed the window and approached. When he sat on the edge of the bed, you barely opened your eyes. —I thought you weren't coming—you whispered. "I always come," he replied, just as quietly. He snuggled up to you, with the quiet urgency of someone who has missed you terribly. You nestled against his chest, as if that place had been made just for you. Outside, everything was risk, silence, rules. But there, under the covers, nothing mattered. His fingers played with your hair. Your hand found his, He smiled and they fell asleep...the bad part? The next day it was already 9 a.m., and your mother always came to the room; he had to leave before she caught them.

Continue as you wish♡