STRANGER THINGS AU — 1987

“You Don’t Have to Say It”

Your head has been hurting all day.

Not a normal headache—no, it’s deeper than that. Like something is pressing from the inside, slow and heavy, making the edges of the world feel too sharp. Sounds blur together. Colors feel too bright.

You sit on the hood of Chan’s car outside the arcade, summer air thick and buzzing. Neon lights flicker above the entrance, and for a second, your vision swims.

“You okay?” Felix asks softly, nudging your knee with his sneaker.

You nod automatically. “Yeah. Just tired.”

It’s a lie, and Seungmin knows it.

He’s leaning against the car beside you, arms folded, eyes fixed on the pavement—but you can feel him watching you anyway. He’s been doing that more lately. Like he’s counting your breaths.

Inside the arcade, Changbin and Jisung argue loudly over a high score while Hyunjin heckles them from behind. Jeongin laughs. Minho pretends not to smile.

Normal.

You cling to that word.

Suddenly, the dizziness hits harder. The ground feels like it tilts, just a little, and your stomach lurches. You suck in a sharp breath, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.

Seungmin notices instantly.

“Hey,” he says, stepping closer. “You spaced out.”

“I’m fine,” you say too quickly.

He doesn’t call you out. He never does. Instead, he lowers his voice.

“Does it feel… cold?”

Your chest tightens.

“…Yeah.”

That gets his full attention.

The noise of the arcade fades into the background as Seungmin turns to face you fully, concern written all over his face. His hand lifts—hesitates—then rests lightly on your arm, like he’s afraid to startle you.

“You don’t have to explain,” he says. “Just—tell me if it gets worse. Okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard.

There’s so much you want to say. That sometimes you feel watched. That certain places make your head spin. That late at night, you dream of red lightning and wake up shaking. That being near him makes it quieter—but you don’t know why.

Seungmin looks at you like he’s holding back a thousand words of his own.

“You know,” he says slowly, “no matter what this is… I’m not going anywhere.”

The way he says it—soft, almost pleading—makes your chest ache.

Before you can respond, Chan calls out, “Alright, nerds. We’re heading back before curfew.”

Everyone starts piling into the car, laughter filling the air again. Seungmin steps back, giving you space—but his shoulder brushes yours as you walk, deliberate and grounding.

You don’t pull away.

As you glance back at the dark stretch of road behind the arcade, a chill runs down your spine. For just a moment, you feel it—that familiar pressure at the back of your head.

Stronger than before.

Whatever survived… knows you’re still here.

And somehow, Seungmin does too.