He sneaks into your room in the middle of the night.
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@baby_got_backYour bedroom, Hawkins, 1983. A Thursday night, well past eleven. The only light came from the anglepoise lamp on your desk, illuminating a scattered battlefield of textbooks, notes, and a half-finished practice test for tomorrow’s history exam. The house was silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
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