roping-riding-wrangling

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Little Black Train

Previous Chapter

After several minutes of silence, interspersed with your father’s sniffling, he finally speaks up, “you were a fat baby. 11 pounds. Grandma Mary loved pinching those chubby little cheeks till they were bright red.”

Your response is to squeeze him tighter, encouraging him to keep going. 

“I keep thinking about what I’d do if it was us,” he says, “If you were the one I was burying tomorrow.”

Summary: Y/n and Bob look through some scrapbooks, she goes monster hunting, and trauma dumps just a bit

Words: 4k

Warnings: Fem!Newby!reader, guns, funeral, mentions of death (including matriarchal and death of a child), swearing, mentions of Jonathan's creepy stalker photos

The living room is quiet. The whole house is quiet. There is a sense of mourning that exudes the walls, as if they know there is no place for joy here. They hold a deep reverence for the boy they never met, and as far as they know, never will. 

But you know better. You know better than to hold a wake for a boy still alive, who’s false body will be lowered into the ground tomorrow. 

Its late. Too late for your dad to be awake, yet there he is. You walk into your room and he sits on the bed, holding a scrapbook of baby pictures. A scrapbook that doesn’t contain anything past age 13. You can tell he’s been crying, his cheeks are still wet and his green eyes are contrasted against the red in his sclera. 

You shift from foot to foot in the doorway. You pull at the sleeves of your jacket that you’ve yet to take off. He looks up at you and for the first time in a long time, you feel his age. His salt and pepper hair, the slight wrinkles on his face, the way he slouches from years of being hunched over a workbench. Bob Newby is by no means an old man, but he’s certainly not the young man who used to run circles around you. 

You know, though, that as he stares at you, he only sees the little girl he cradled in his arms until you fell asleep. The kid who, unlike most 5 year old girls, came home covered in mud every day inexplicably. The child who ran into his room anytime you had a nightmare or the darkness was just a little too dark. His little buddy. 

Perhaps Benny’s death and Will’s impending funeral have made you both a little more aware of each other's mortality. You sit next to him on the bed and put your arm around him and place your head on his shoulder. It reminds you of how you comforted Jonathan mere moments ago in the car. 

You look down at the page your dad has opened. It's your first birthday party. Your dad holds your tiny body aloft, rubbing his nose with yours. You each have giant grins on your faces. In the background, your mother sits. She wears a bored expression, party hat tilted atop her head. She’s admittedly very beautiful, and you’ve inherited all her ugliest flaws. You hate how much you see of her in the mirror. 

Your dad is clearly not focused on the woman who abandoned you both. He looks instead at the focus–you, always you. Your dad has done everything for you, a sacrifice that you will never dismiss. 

After several minutes of silence, interspersed with your father’s sniffling, he finally speaks up, “you were a fat baby. 11 pounds. Grandma Mary loved pinching those chubby little cheeks till they were bright red.”

Your response is to squeeze him tighter, encouraging him to keep going. 

“I keep thinking about what I’d do if it was us,” he says, “If you were the one I was burying tomorrow.”

“What would you do?” you ask

“That's the thing,” he answers, “I don’t know. I try to picture losing you and I just get so sad I can’t think. Like, my brain stops working. I think that's just how it is, though. When a parent loses their kid, they lose their function. I remember seeing you for the first time and thinking: wow, this is my purpose. So, I lose you and I lose the purpose.”

He kisses the side of your forehead. “You’re my purpose, buddy. Don’t ever forget that.”

You kiss his cheek in return. “You’re my best friend. I don’t care how lame I sound. I’m lucky you’re my dad.”

You sit and pour over the scrapbook together, sharing wet laughs until the wee hours of the morning. You’ve nodded off against your dad’s shoulder too many times and he slaps his thighs before standing up, jerking you awake. 

“Alright buddy,” he yawns, “I’m off to bed. Goodnight, love you.”

“G’night,” you say, already under the covers, “Love you too.”

–––––––––

The funeral is the next day and though you know the truth about Will’s apparent demise, it doesn’t change the fact that you are attending a funeral for a little boy. A little boy whose brother you’ve come to care for like your own sibling. You dress in a simple black dress, your dad wears a wool sweater over his dress shirt. You arrive early to the funeral, at your father’s insistence on punctuality. 

You see Jonathan and his mother, but there’s a man with them you’ve never seen before. 

Jonathan makes eye contact with you and slips away from them. You walk away from your dad, who is trapped in conversation with Mrs. Withersbee. Jonathan’s state keeps deteriorating, you notice. He looks even paler than yesterday and his eyebags are even more pronounced. You wonder if he got even an hour of sleep last night. 

“Hey,” you pull him into a hug. You’ve noticed over the past few days that he always sinks into your touch. You can feel him relax, even if just slightly. You pull away and nod at the man sitting next to his mother. “Who’s that?” you ask.

“Lonnie–my dad,” Jonathan says with a barely contained sneer. 

Your dad joins the pair of you, finally free of Mrs. Withersbee. “Jonathan?” your dad holds out his hand, which Jonathan takes in a firm handshake. “Mr. Newby.”

“I’m sorry about Will. We’re here if you guys need anything,” your dad says.

“Thanks,” Jonathan nods at him. 

You depart from Jonathan with a comforting squeeze of his shoulders. As you walk to find a spot, your eyes scan the crowd for Nancy. You spot her and recognize her brother from Dustin’s group of friends. You try to recall his name, Matt or Mason or something–you know it starts with an M. 

She doesn’t look your way, instead her eyes are practically locked onto Jonathan. Anytime you look her way during the ceremony, you can clearly follow her line of sight to the boy. An unreadable emotion is displayed on her face, or perhaps its several different emotions bubbling up to the surface. 

Your dad’s arm is heavy across your shoulders. You appreciate the extra warmth he gives you against the cold November air. 

The casket is lowered into the ground. It's a very sobering moment as you realize that even if they aren’t dead, very soon you could be at Will’s real funeral. Or Barbara’s, or Eleven’s. You glance at the other teens. It could be they’re funeral too. They’re a year younger than you and though it's not a huge gap, but you still feel protective of them. 

After the ceremony, you slip away from your dad and grab Nancy’s hand. She lets you guide her silently to Jonathan’s car. He’s waiting for you with a piece of paper. 

You and Nancy come up on either side of him as he shows it to you. The three of you sit down on the ground. “It's a map,” he begins his explanation, “This is for sure where we know it’s been.”

Nancy looks impressed at his collection of the information. Both of you’d assumed that this would be something to be done as a group. Your eyes dart between the map, Jonathan and Nancy. You wonder if this is part of the reason he got so little sleep or if he had done this because he couldn’t sleep.

You look back at the map. There are three Xes on it. 

“So that's…” Nancy trails off

“Steve’s house, where Will’s bike was found, my house,” Jonathan says, pointing at each X

“Huh,” you say, “they're all really close. And look how close Will’s bike was to Benny’s?”

“Exactly,” Jonathan says, “It's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it’s not traveling far.”

“You wanna go out there?” Nancy asks.

“We might not find anything,” Jonathan says.

“I found something,” she responds.

“We have to try.” you say

“And if we find this thing, then what?” Nancy says

Jonathan responds resolutely, “We kill it.”

You and Nancy look at each other, a question in both of your heads: kill it with what?

Jonathan is already standing and offers a hand to Nancy who takes it, who then in turn helps you up from the ground. The two of you follow behind Jonathan as he leads you to a car you don’t recognize. 

“Cover me,” he says before squatting down and unlocking the door with a knife. You and Nancy huddle around the boy, looking around to make sure no one sees you. 

“Are you crazy?” you ask 

He doesn’t answer you, just opens the door and begins on the glove compartment.

“Who’s car is this anyway?” you ask again.

“Lonnie’s” he answers. 

“Oh.”

He opens the glovebox and pulls out a gun. Nancy looks at and scoffs, “Are you serious?”

“What?” Jonathan says, “You wanna find this thing and take another photo of it? Yell at it?”

“This is a terrible idea,” she says.

“Jonathan’s right. We need to get rid of this thing. This,” you gesture to the gun, “is our best chance.”

“We could tell someone.” she glances warily at the gun. 

“Who would believe us?”

Nancy looks up at Jonathan, trying to convince him, “Your mom would.”

“She’s been through enough,” he argues. 

“But–”

“Nancy,” you grab her arm, “do you really want to bring more people in on this? This thing’s dangerous. The less people involved, the better.”

She bites her lip, thinking it over. You and Jonathan look at each other, then back at her. 

“Okay.” she says.

–––––

In the car, your dad talks again about the AV club. “Scott–Mr. Clarke–was telling me that the ham shack caught on fire. Totally random, just burst into flames.”

“It wasn’t a prank or anything?” you ask.

“Nope. Just poof! Melted.”

“Weird.”

–––––

At home, you search through the shed for something to fight against a life-threatening monster with. Your dad doesn't have any traditional weapons around, but you do find a big pipe that could come in handy. You don’t want Jonathan to be the only one armed. You throw the pipe into your trunk, then go back inside. Your dad is on the phone in his office–where all the tools are. 

You slink inside and he raises an eyebrow at you. You mouth “Screwdriver” to him. He opens a drawer and you come around to pick one out. You find the biggest one you can and give him a kiss on the cheek. Outside his office, you stick the screwdriver in your jacket pocket. You grab your bag and keys and jump into your truck.

After popping a Beatles cassette into the tape deck, you drive to the address Nancy gave you. It's not too far from where you live, but most definitely in the nicer part of town. 

You pull up and Steve is outside talking to his girlfriend. You can’t see him, but her face is strained, awkward. 

“Nancy!” you call out to her, “C’mon!”

“Sorry Steve, I gotta go.”

She runs to your car and throws the bat she’s holding in the bed of the truck. 

“What’d he want?” you ask, driving away.

Nancy drags a hand down her face. “I don’t know…he wanted to see a movie, but obviously…”

“You can’t,” you finish for her.

“Even if I could…I don’t know if I want to,” she says.

“Oh?” you say. 

“Its just…He was such a dick the other day. He got mad at me when I went to the police about Barb. He freaked out because he was gonna get in trouble with his parents for having a party–drinking and stuff. Barb is missing and all he cared about was that he was gonna be in trouble with mommy and daddy. And I know he’s a good guy, he apologized–just now– but I don’t know. It still stings.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. whatever, we have bigger things to worry about.”

“Yeah…have you ever shot a gun before?” you ask, genuinely curious about the girl.

“I’ve never even held one.” she laughs, “You?”

“No. Benny was gonna teach me after I graduated, take me hunting and everything.” you say.

“You were really close with him, huh?”

“Yeah. He was a family friend for ages. He actually helped me get this,” you gesture to the truck, “piece of shit up and running.” 

Almost as if to spite you, the truck makes a groaning noise.

“Is that normal?” Nancy asks nervously.

“Oh that,” the grumbling stops, “It happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it.”

“Right…” she says.

You pull off the road and drive into the grass at the edge of the woods. Hoisting yourself up on the bed of the truck, you grab the pipe and the baseball bat, tossing the latter to Nancy. 

“Nice catch,” you say.

The two of you walk to the clearing that Jonathan described. He’s already there, shooting at glass bottles–and missing terribly.

“Do you think he knows he’s supposed to aim for the cans?” Nancy says to you, loud enough for him to hear it. 

“You see the spaces in between the cans,” he retorts, “I’m aiming for those, actually.”

“Then you’re a perfect shot.” you say, setting down your stuff. 

Jonathan looks to Nancy, who is already standing right next to him. “You ever shot a gun before?” he asks. You and Nancy look at each other and laugh at having just had the exact same conversation. Jonathan looks between the two of you, perplexed. 

“Sorry,” Nancy says between giggling, “No, have you met my parents?”

Jonathan looks to you and you shake your head no. 

“Yeah, I haven’t shot one since I was ten,” Jonathan says, “My dad took me hunting on my birthday. Made me kill a rabbit.”

“A rabbit?” Nancy says. 

“Yeah. I guess he thought it would make me more of a man or something. I cried for a week.”

You picture a ten year old Jonathan crying while holding a gun, standing over a dead rabbit. It makes sense that he would cry over killing something so small and defenseless. He’s intensely protective, so of course he wouldn’t want to hurt something that isn’t doing any harm.

“Your dad sounds like a peach.” you say sarcastically. 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “I think he and my mother loved each other at some point, but I wasn’t around for that part.”

Nancy holds out her hand and Jonathan hands the gun to her. She aims and lets out a breath. “I don’t think my parents ever loved each other.” she says.

“There must’ve been some reason they married each other.” Jonathan says and she rolls her eyes. “My mom was young. My dad was older, but he had a cushy job, money, came from a good family. So they bought a nice house at the end of a cul-de-sac and started their nuclear family.”

“Screw that.” Jonathan huffs.

“Yeah,” she closes one eye, “Screw that.”

She squeezes the trigger and hits the can dead on. 

“Woah!” you gasp.

She blushes and offers you the gun, which you take. It's oddly heavy in your hands. You line up in front of a can and square yourself up. 

“I uh, I never really knew my mom,” you say, raising the gun, “She died a few years ago. What's crazy is I didn’t even know her family existed, but they all acted like I was the prodigal son. The truck is her old shitbox. They insisted I take it. Her husband has two lincolns.”

“Oh.” Nancy says.

You can remember every little detail of her funeral. Her husband–tall, graying hair, and dark brown eyes. He had wrinkles around his eyes and wore half moon eyeglasses. Her son looked like the perfect combination of the two of them. Though he’s younger, he stood at eye level with you. You would have balked at the similarities between the two of you, if you’d cared. He smirked as her husband pressed the keys into your hand and insisted that she would have wanted it, that you deserve it. 

The months that followed that interaction were filled with painstaking labor and frequent stops at the auto shop. Benny taught you everything you could ever know about taking care of a car’s engine, but the radio was all your dad. The damn thing had a tape jammed in it and your dad spent an entire day sitting in the hot Indiana sun, carefully fiddling with the radio, not just getting it to work, but also getting the tape out in one piece.

It was almost sunset when he got it to work, you were replacing the serpentine belt and heard his triumphant laugh, then the voice of Woody Guthrie sing, “You silken bar-room ladies, dressed in your worldly pride. You’ve got to ride that little black train thats coming in tonight.” You both cheered as the song played. 

The irony of that moment just now hits you, and you have to hold back a laugh as you realize that possibly the last song your mother heard was a song about the inescapability of death.

You suck in a breath and squeeze the trigger. The kickback surprises you with its power, for how small the weapon is. You don’t hit the can, instead the bullet lodges itself in the stump it rests upon. 

“You better hang on to this,” you hand Nancy the gun, “You’re clearly the best shot.”

Again she blushes under the praise. You grab the pipe and Jonathan grabs the bat. The three of you stand at the edge of the woods. They seem so daunting, especially knowing what's in there. 

“Onwards?” you say to the others.

“Onwards,” they respond in unison.

––––

You’ve been walking in circles for over an hour and haven’t found anything. You walk a few paces ahead of the others, occasionally hitting at the ground with your pipe. You turn around and walk backwards while facing the two younger teens. “Have you guys seen anything yet?”

“No,” Jonathan says. 

You turn back around and walk further ahead. 

“You never said what I was saying,” Nancy tells Jonathan. 

“What?” he says what you’re thinking. 

“Yesterday, you said I was saying something and that’s why you took my picture,” says Nancy. 

You cringe, remembering the invasive photos of the girl. 

“Oh, uh. I don’t know” Jonathan explais “I guess I saw this girl, trying to be someone else. But for that moment…it was like you were alone, or you thought you were. And, you know, you could just be yourself.”

Apparently Nancy disagrees because she says, “That is such bullshit.” “What?” Jonathan stammers.

You don’t hear their footsteps anymore, so you turn around to see them stopped and facing each other. 

“I am not trying to be someone else. Just because I’m dating Steve and you don’t like him–”

“You know what? Forget it, I just thought it was a good picture.”

Jonathan walks past you, Nancy hot on his heels. 

“He’s actually a good guy,” She yells at him, “the other day, with the camera he’s not like that at all…he was just being protective.”

You can't help but wonder when Nancy had changed her mind and forgiven Steve–or if it was a ruse for the sake of fighting with Jonathan.

“Yeah, thats one word for it,” Jonathan scoffs. 

“Oh and I guess what you did was okay?” she retorts

“I never said that,” he yells over his shoulder.

Nancy pushes on the topic, “He had every right to be pissed–” 

“Does that mean I have to like him?”

“No.”

They huff at each other for a moment. You can clearly pick up on some tension between them–romantic or otherwise. Jonathan takes a breath and picks his next words carefully, “Listen. Don’t take it personally. I don’t like most people. He’s in the vast majority.”

Nancy doesn’t let the conversation end there. It's like she wants to fight. “You know, I was actually starting to think that you were okay. I was thinking ‘Jonathan Byers: maybe he’s not the pretentious creep everyone says he is.”

That gets Jonathan riled up again, “I was just starting to think you were okay. I was thinking ‘Nancy Wheeler: Maybe she’s not just the same suburban girl who thinks she’s rebelling by doing exactly what every other suburban girl does, until that phase passes and they marry some boring one-time jock who now works sales and they’ll live out a perfectly boring little life at the end of some cul-de-sac. Exactly like their parents, who they thought were so depressing. But now hey, they get it’”

“Jonathan!” you yell at him and chase after him as he storms away. Nancy follows behind you and the three of you walk in silence. You stand in the middle of the two, a buffer. For hours, you explore the area from Jonathan’s map. You walk well past sunset and each pull flashlights from your bags. The forest is ten times creepier at night. It's a new moon, so the only light comes from the flashlights you carry. Every crunch of a leaf or snap of a twig nearly gives you whiplash from how hard you swing your head. 

A low whimper sounds to your right and you turn your head immediately. Nancy stops, having also heard the noise. 

“Are you tired?” Jonathan mocks but you hold up your hand. “Shut up,” you say. 

“What?” he asks, offended.

“Shut up!” you whisper-yell at him.

Nancy looks over to you, then off in the distance “I think its over–” 

The noise comes again, louder this time. “There!” She shouts and begins walking towards the sound. You and Jonathan trail after her to find an injured deer. 

“Oh god,” you say.

“Its been hit by a car,” Nancy says, kneeling down, “we can’t just leave it.”

The doe whimpers again and Nancy holds the gun out as if to shoot it, her hand shaking and lip quivering. Jonathan gently says to her, “I’ll do it.”

“I thought you said…” she trails off.

“I’m not nine anymore.” he states and takes the gun from her. 

The three of you stand and Nancy turns to you, facing away from the doe. You pull an arm around her and she grips your jacket, seeking comfort in you. Shielding herself from the reality the deer has to face. 

You close your eyes in anticipation, but are no gunshots to be heard, only a dragging sound. You open your eyes to see the doe being pulled into the darkness. You lean closer to see a trail of blood left behind. “What was that?” you ask no one in particular. 

You follow the trail through the trees. No one dares to say a word until the trail ends. But there is no deer and no monster at the end. It just…stops. 

“Where’d it go?” Nancy says.

“I don’t know,” Jonathan answers, his gun up, “do you see any more blood?”

You shine your flashlight all over the ground but find nothing, “Not here.”

The three of you split up to cover more ground. You point your flashlight all over, but find nothing. No blood, no bones. It's like the deer disappeared completely. 

“Y/n!” you hear Nancy yell from afar, “Jonathan!” You turn around and head towards where you heard her. You shine your light towards where she is, but there’s nothing there. Suddenly a scream resounds. You run hard, your legs burning. You push past it, never dropping your pace. You hear Jonathan yell her name from farther away. You call out to her too, practically willing her to appear. 

The scream doesn’t leave your mind. It’s blood-curdling, heart-stopping. You keep running, but trip over something and crash face first into something hard. Pushing yourself up, you try to blink off the dizziness. Looking down, you see a rock right where your forehead landed. You turn to see your foot is caught in and your heart drops when you see Nancy’s bag on the ground. You hurriedly untangle yourself and push yourself up. Jonathan nearly knocks you into the ground again as he barrels forward. 

“Where is she?” he looks at you, eyes pleading.

“I don’t know.” you say “Nancy!”

“Nancy!”

All you hear is a scream in response. 

Taglist: @ucannotcompare

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Eyes Without A Face

Previous

Alone in his car, you listen to the sounds of the Clash. “This,” Jonathan nods towards the radio, “was Will’s favorite song?”

“Is” you correct him. “Will’s still alive.”

Jonathan huffs out a gentle, “yeah.”

“Anyway, really? He's like 11, I’m surprised his favorite song isn’t Rainbow Connection or something.”

Jonathan has a faraway look in his eyes, one that tells you he’s not really paying attention to your attempts to cheer him up. “Jonathan,” you begin, “I’m serious. He’s gonna be okay.”

Summary: Y/n and Bob finally talk, Jon and Y/n go casket shopping and run into a familiar face

Words: 4.2K

Warnings: Newby!reader, swearing, signs of depression/dissociation, anxiety, mentions of death (including child death)

Its the first morning this week that you haven’t felt deeply exhausted when you wake up. Despite the fact that you wake up in yesterday’s clothes, you can’t deny how rested you feel. Of course, coffee is still a necessity. 

You walk out to the kitchen and are surprised to find your dad already sitting at the table. A full mug waits for you. You give him a soft smile and a “thanks” before taking a seat and sipping on your mug. Your dad must have been up for a while, the coffee is already cooled to a drinkable temperature. 

“Buddy, I think we need to talk.” Your dad says after a few beats of silence. 

Your shoulders slump with the weight of the conversation yet to happen. 

“I’m worried about you. You nearly passed out yesterday. I couldn’t really understand most of what you said last night, but I want to know what's going on to make you this upset. It’s clearly more than Benny’s passing. Please, just tell me whats wrong.”

You take a breath, deciding how to explain everything to your dad. “You uh, know how I don’t really bring any friends over. Its cause I can count them on one hand. You,” you put up a finger, “Benny,” a second finger rises, “and Jonathan” three fingers for three friends. 

“What about the girls on the team?”

“We’re teammates, not friends. Anyways, as of yesterday a third of my friends is dead. And for some inexplicable reason, he killed himself. Benny, happy Benny, shot himself. And I was one of the last people to see him. That night…a kid showed up in the kitchen. A runaway, I think. Anyways, I offered to stay in the diner to keep an eye on her and Benny let me go home. I keep going back to that night. I keep replaying it in my head on loop. And I keep wondering…If I had stayed maybe–maybe he’d still be here. And then there's the whole Jonathan thing…His kid brother has been missing since Sunday night. I was with Jonathan that night. He came into the diner right before close and I let him stay late. Thats probably when Will went missing. If I’d just–”

Your dad set his hand on your clenched fist.

“If I had just made him go home, Will might not be lost, or it would've been noticed sooner or something. I just…I keep letting things happen.”

“Letting things happen?”

“You know, not doing anything. I just…I feel so passive and I feel like lately its been having consequences.”

“Then don’t be passive.”

“What?”

“Well, if you think that being passive is causing trouble, then start taking action.”

You think back to yesterday’s events. You, paralyzed to act, as Jonathan’s camera is destroyed. You think back farther, to not saying anything when Ms Henderson didn’t notice the song until you were seconds away from snapping. Not stopping your dad as he left you alone. Agreeing to leave Eleven and Benny. Letting Jonathan stay late at the diner. 

The guilt eats you alive. Your entire life, you’ve done things because it was easier than fighting. You joined volleyball because your middle school teacher had asked you to. You worked at Benny’s because he needed a hand taking orders. You didn’t even put up a fight when your mom left. 

“I don’t think I know how.”

“So we’ll start small. You’ll take a day for yourself. I’ll stay home with you and you’ll tell me how today is going to go. Every step of the day is your choice, not mine, not anyone else’s. your’s”

Even now you can’t seem to say no to your dad. 

“...okay”

“So what’s first?”

“Can you call my coach? I don’t want her to think I’m skipping for anything dumb. And,” you pause, gauging his reaction, “can I go back to sleep for a bit?”

“Of course, buddy. I love you.”

“I love you too dad.”

You slowly head back to your room

You don’t sleep. Instead, you sit on the floor, back against the door. You sift through your music collection. None of it sounds appealing. One album stands out amongst the others: Billy Idol’s Rebel Yell. You’d been listening to it on Sunday. Sunday feels like it was years ago

You turn the cassette over in your hands. It was borrowed from Jonathan last week, but you’d yet to return it. You gently remove it from the case and put it in your walkman. sticking the headphones on yourself, you fall into the memory of him lending it to you,

It was another slow, late night at the diner. Benny was doing inventory in the back while you were up front, chatting with Jonathan, the lone patron of the diner. 

“What is this?” you asked, the station he’d changed the radio to was playing an unfamiliar tune. 

“The Talking Heads,” he answered, “you like ‘em?”

“I don’t know. It sounds kinda weird.”

“Yeah,” he laughed lightly, “that's kinda the point. They’re not conforming to the general population’s perception of good music.”

You frowned, “So I’m the general population?”

Jonathan looked at you plainly, “I mean…yeah. I’m sorry, but every time I come in here it's either Kenny Rogers, or Dolly Parton, or Glen Campbell.”

“That's not all I listen to. It’s just that Benny likes it and it's literally his diner,” you respond, “there’s plenty of other stuff I like–like Elton John! And Simon and Garfunkel and Linda Rondstadt and David Bowie and–”

“Okay okay! I get it” he said throwing his hands up in surrender, but you weren’t done

“The Police and Billy Idol–”

“Wait,” he interrupted again, “You like Billy Idol?”

That gave you pause. “Uh…I mean, yeah, he’s cool.”

“Have you listened to Rebel Yell?” he asked excitedly.

“Oh no,” you replied awkwardly, “I uh, haven’t managed to get my hands on it.”

“Here!” He materialized the cassette from somewhere within his bag, “you can borrow this.”

“Oh,” you were shocked. You wouldn’t have expected him to give over the tape that readily. You’d pegged him as the type to keep his music to himself. He prided himself on his superior taste, whereas your taste was too eclectic for you to be pretentious about it 

“Thanks!” 

You really had meant to just listen to it once and return it, but it kept poking out from your bag while you did your homework. You listened to it again the next day on your drive, and again while jogging. Jonathan never asked for it back, and you never brought it up either. 

The tape stopping pulls you from your reverie. You yank the headphones off and stick the walkman back in your bag. 

You put the box of cassettes up and crawled into bed. The fan blows air at the windows, moving your curtains. Every so often, you caught a glimpse of the outside. The sky is gray, casting a sad shadow over the trees in your yard. You pull the curtains back even more, resting your cheek against the cool glass. Every so often, a car passes by. The wind knocks down leaves from the trees. When you breathe, the glass fogs up. 

You flop back on the bed, no longer feeling tired. No longer feeling anything. There's nothing left to feel. You recognize the emptiness. It's a comfort that you’ve often turned to. Shutting yourself out and going on autopilot. You know exactly how to act so that everyone thinks you’re fine, but the reality is that your smiles don’t go all the way and your laughs are a hollow ringing in your own ears. 

You haven’t had to shut down in a while. You forgot how nice the nothingness is. 

You don’t sleep, but laying in your bed with nothing but the fan and the gentle noises from outside feels good. You finally rise from your bed, your stomach grumbling from negligence. You quietly open your door. The floor is cold against your unsocked feet. 

“Hey buddy, feeling better?” Your dad asks from his spot on the couch, where he is watching reruns of MASH. You nod at him and give him a smile. “What’s next on the agenda?” his answer comes in the form of your stomach growling. You both laugh, but his is louder. "Could we go get some food in town?” you ask him.

“You got it, what’ll it be?” 

“I could go for some pizza,” you shrug.

You grab your bag and hop in his car. You watch from the passenger seat as the trees fly by and begin to fade into the familiar buildings of downtown Hawkins. He pulls into his parking spot behind the Radio Shack and ducks around the car to open the door for you. “After you,” he says, a goofy grin on his face. 

The walk to the pizza place is short and your dad rambles about a radio he donated to the middle school AV club the whole time. You recall him mentioning how he started the club in his youth. He speaks vigorously and you have trouble understanding everything he means, but its sweet how passionate he is about it. Its one of the things you admire most about the man. When he loves something, he loves it truly and deeply. 

He once again opens the door for you when you arrive. You claim a table while he puts your order in at the counter. He returns with a flag with the number eleven on it. The reminder of the sweet little girl gives your heart a twinge, and you quickly let the numbness consume it. 

“Scott was telling me how excited all the boys were on Monday when they saw it. Did you know the Henderson kid is in the club?” he asks you.

“No, I didn’t. Good for him,” you answer. 

“Yeah...speaking of clubs, how's volleyball going?” it's clear he’s trying to make conversation.

You know that your dad needs this. He needs to know that you’re okay, that you’re not slipping away from him, that he’s doing his job as a dad correctly. You could never deny him this kindness, so you fill the void of silence, “It’s going pretty well. Coach wants me to try libero, since Casey’s graduating next year, but I think I’m better as a setter. We’ll see.”

A server comes with a tray of pizza for your table. Your dad continues to ask you about volleyball, school, anything to keep you talking. You play along and answer his questions while eating. 

After three slices, you have to make the choice of eating another. You decide not to make yourself sick and have your dad flag down the server to ask for a to go box. 

Again he opens the door for you on the way out. The pizza settles in your stomach and you feel some of the sluggishness from the morning begin to wear. Your dad tucks his arm around you in the walk back and you huddle closer, grateful for the warmth he radiates. 

Across the street, you see a familiar figure and are reminded of the cassette you’d stashed in your bag earlier. “Hey dad,” you pull yourself from his arm, “I’m gonna go say hi to Jonathan.”

“Okay, I’ll be in the shack.”

He departs for his store as you head across the street. As you approach the boy, you can tell something is wrong.

“Jonathan,” you call out to him as you jog to catch up. He is hunched over and when he finally looks up at you his brows are furrowed and his eyes are bloodshot. “Jonathan?” you say again, softer this time.

“Will died” he spits the words from his mouth like they're venom. You blink slowly, letting the emptiness that resides within you absorb this information. The cassette is all but forgotten as you gently pull him into a hug. He barely hangs onto you, but you can feel how he shakes. 

Still holding onto him you glance around then ask, “Where’s your mom?”

He grips you tighter at that, “She’s convinced he’s alive, that he’s living in our walls. She thinks he’s being hunted by a monster. But I just–I just came from the morgue. Y/n, his body was so small.”

He hiccups and you squeeze him, “Jonathan, I’m so sorry.”

You pull away, letting him wipe the tears from his face with his sleeves. He hiccups again again and you rub his back in slow, small circles as he catches his breath. He needs this, his mother is gone so there is no one to comfort the boy. You'll be that pillar for him, a shoulder for him to cry on. "What are you gonna do?" you ask.

“I have to plan his funeral…pick out a coffin.” he says slowly, as if he's just now realizing what he needs to do.

He collapses back onto your shoulder, just like on Tuesday night. Except on Tuesday, he still had hope. Now, the despair rolls off him in waves. He is in no position to make decisions by himself. 

Your dad’s words from this morning echo in your mind and you decide this will not be something you just let happen again. You can use your emotionless state to help him–so you do. 

“Do you want some company?”

He nods sadly against your shoulder and very subtly tries to wipe his tears before he picks his head back up. You hold out your elbow for him and he holds onto it. You lead him to the funeral home. 

“I’m gonna call my dad real quick, will you be okay for a minute?” you ask outside, eyeing the payphone. He nods quietly and you fish out the correct change from your bag. You dial the number to the Radio Shack and wait as rings thrice before your dad’s familiar voice greets you.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Hawkins Radio Shack, this is Bob, how can I help you?”

“Hey dad, its Y/n.”

“Buddy, where are you?”

“I’m at the funeral home…Jonathan’s brother died. I’m gonna make sure he’s not alone right now. I wanted to let you know.”

“Oh no, poor kid. You’re doing the right thing, Y/n. You’re a good friend. I love you and I’m proud of you. Let the Byers know that I’m thinking of them.”

“Will do. I love you too, dad.”

You hang up and head inside to Jonathan, who is already talking to a salesman. You hear him discuss a walnut casket as you sidle up Jonathan and place a gentle hand on his arm to alert him to your presence. 

“Now, I don’t know what your budget is,” the man says softly, “but over here we have  copper and bronze.” the pair of you silently follow him to the other caskets. Jonathan stops and you look past him to see Nancy in the door. She looks like she wants to talk. “Could we just have a minute?” you ask the salesman and he gives you an understanding nod. 

You approach the timid girl. She looks up at Jonathan and says, “Your mom, she said you’d be here. I just,” you prepare to hear her offer condolences but she surprises you. “Can we talk for a second?”

You follow the girl out into the hall and stand over Jonathan’s shoulder as the pair sit on a bench. Nancy pulls out the taped-back-together photos from yesterday. “I noticed something behind Barb,” she begins and hands them to Jonathan, “I can’t tell what it is, but it’s weird right?”

As she mentions it, you do see a figure shrouded in shadow behind the immortalized girl on the diving board. 

“I see it.” you tell her. She looks up at you, hope shining in her eyes. “It looks like it could be some kind of perspective distortion,” Jonathan tells you both, and the hope begins to fade from her face. “I wasn’t using a wide angle. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t see anyone else out there?” she probes.

“No,” he answers, “just Y/n later on, but Barb…she was there one second and gone. I figure she bolted”

“What were you doing there?” Nancy asks you.

“Its kind of a long story…I saw Jonathan’s car and got worried. I didn’t see anyone else though.” 

“Did you see Barb?” she interrogates further. 

“No, I’m sorry.”

“The cops think that she ran away, but they don’t know Barb.” You’re ashamed to admit to yourself that you hadn’t even noticed the girl was missing. You don’t know the younger girl, but when you try to recall her, you remember her in the hallways, a soft smile on her face and Nancy attached to her hip. 

 The numbness begins to wane as you consider everything that’s happened in the past week. Eleven, Benny, Will, and now Barbara. At this point, it can no longer be a coincidence. Nancy’s voice breaks through your train of thought, “And I went back to Steve's and I thought I saw something. Some weird man or…I don’t know what it was.” 

With the reveal of the mysterious figure, it's like trying to put together a puzzle, but all the pieces are from different boxes. The pieces fit, but the picture looks weird. “I’m sorry. I–I shouldn’t have come here today,” she gets up to go. “I’m so sorry.”

Before she can fully leave, Jonathan speaks up, “What’d he look like?” he asks and you remember what he told you earlier, about his mom thinking Will was still alive and being hunted. Could she be right? Its an insane thought, you tell yourself. Jonathan saw the body in the morgue. 

“What?” Nancy turns around to look at him. 

“Jonathan, you don’t think…” you begin, but he ignores you, looking imploringly at Nancy. “This man you saw in the woods, what’d he look like?”

You hold your breath as you stand between the two, and Nancy tries to explain, “I don’t know, it almost like he didn’t ha–”

Jonathan finishes the thought for her, “Didn’t have a face?”

“How did you know that?”

“Jonathan, is there a way to see the picture better?” You ask, grabbing the photo from Nancy’s hand and pointing at the figure. “If this…thing is what got Barb, and it's hunting Will…we need to know what we’re dealing with.”

“I guess…I’d need the dark room at the school though.”

“Great, where are you parked?”

“Y/n…”

“Lets go.” you turn and make your way back to downtown. The others follow behind hot on your tail. Jonathan jogs ahead of you to lead you to his car. You arrive and he fumbles for his keys, dropping them in the process. 

He finally unlocks the car and you pile in. On the drive there, you explain to them your thoughts. 

“I think there's something abducting people. On Monday, there was a little girl at the diner. I thought she was a runaway, but what if she wasn’t running from home. What if she was running from whatever thing is. It would explain the weird timing. And then she suddenly vanished again?”

“And Barb went missing the next day…” Nancy picks up your line of thinking. 

“Exactly!” you respond, “I still don’t understand how Benny fits into this, but–”

“Wait,” she interrupts, “Benny? Like ‘Benny's Burgers’ Benny? What does he have to do with this?”

Oh. She doesn’t know.

“Benny…he was found dead the morning after we found the kid. She was nowhere to be seen”

“How do you know that?”

“I, uh, I work there. I was the last one, beside the girl, to see him. The police took me in for questioning. I’ve been trying to figure everything out since then, but…I just don’t understand why he shot himself.”

“Maybe he survived this thing but couldn’t handle it?” Jonathan offers.

“Yeah, like the vets from ‘nam…I had an uncle that fought and came back from that and…” Nancy trails off. You realize how truly little you two know about each other, despite living in a small town where everyone gossips. You don’t dwell on it, though, as Jonathan parks outside the school. 

“How are we gonna get in? School’s been out for a while, it's probably locked.” the boy asks, getting out of the car. You’re already making your way to the gym. “Follow me!” you yell at them. “The coaches never lock this door,” you explain as you lead them to a side entrance. You hold the door for them as they enter. 

The three of you make your way to the dark room. Jonathan prepares the negatives. Neither you nor Nancy understand exactly what he’s doing to the film. 

Nancy asks him, “and you’re?”

He answers, “Brightening. Enlarging.”

“Did your mom say anything else? Like, where it might have gone to, or…” Nancy asks him further

“Nope, just that it came out of the wall.”

The machine dings and Jonathan removes the page, dipping it in some liquid. The picture slowly starts to develop and the three of you crowd around it. It's silent for a moment before Nancy begins speaking again, “How long does this take?” 

“Not long.” Jonathan responds

The waiting is killing you. You tap your fingers against the table as you stare at the paper. 

“Have you been doing this long?” Nancy seems to be like your dad. Unable to endure silence. 

“What?” Jonathan asks, indulging her questioning. 

“Photography.”

“yeah…I guess I’d rather observe people, than…”

“Talk to them?”

As the pair talk, you feel an all too familiar feeling creep up on you. Your rush of figuring out the mystery from earlier is starting to wear off the realization sinks in that whatever is about to reveal itself has already taken a life, if not three more. You hold yourself completely still so as not to alert the others of your impending panic. Your knuckles are nearly white from how tightly you grip the edges of the table. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

You hold onto the comfort of your numbers, willing them to be the only thing on your mind. You slowly tune back into the conversation, the emptiness settling back in. 

“Its just sometimes, people don’t always say what they’re really thinking. But you capture the right moment,” Jonathan says, leaning closer to Nancy. “It says more.”

“What was I saying?” Nancy gives him a gentle, almost kind, smirk “When you took my picture?”

Even in the red light, you can tell he’s blushing. “I shouldn’t have taken that. I’m sorry.”

You glance away, not wanting to intrude on whatever intimate moment they’re having. The picture has developed before your eyes, and a grotesque figure looms above Barb. Its a horrifying sight. There is no way this thing is human. Its huge and though it stands upright, its limbs are more animal than man. 

“Nancy…” you interrupt their intense eye contact. “Is this what you saw?”

Her eyes dart away from the boy and down onto the picture. 

“Oh my god…thats it,” she gasps.

“My mom,” Jonathan breathes out, “I thought she was crazy ‘cause she said thats not Will’s body. That he’s alive.”

“And he’s alive–” nancy begins

“Barb and Eleven are too” you finish. 

Jonathan drives the both of you home, “We’ll need a plan, like a real actual plan,” you explain logically, “When are you guys free tomorrow?”

“Well, uh, the funeral is tomorrow, so after that.”

You rub a hand on Jonathan’s shoulder, though your theory about Will could be true, it doesn’t change the fact that tomorrow will be a sad day. 

“We’ll need information too. Like everywhere this thing has been”

The car pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway and Jonathan looks at Nancy before she leaves, “Meet us at my car tomorrow.”

She nods resolutely at him, then at you. Alone in his car, you listen to the sounds of the Clash. “This,” Jonathan nods towards the radio, “was Will’s favorite song?”

“Is,” you correct him. “Will’s still alive.”

Jonathan huffs out a gentle, “yeah.”

“Anyway, really? He's like 11, I’m surprised his favorite song isn’t Rainbow Connection or something.”

Jonathan has a faraway look in his eyes, one that tells you he’s not really paying attention to your attempts to cheer him up. “Jonathan,” you begin, “I’m serious. He’s gonna be okay.”

“But what if he isn’t,” he rebuts, “what if we fight this thing and it's too late and he’s still gone?”

Jonathan pulls up to your house and parks, but doesn’t look at you. His grip on the steering wheel is tight. “What if we lose and I’ve failed him again…I can’t do that.”

You scoot closer to him and wrap your arms around him and lean your head on his shoulder. He grabs your arms, grateful for the comforting touch. 

“He’s gonna be okay. We’re gonna save him– and Barb and Eleven. I promise. We’re gonna bring them home.”

He says nothing, just nods against you. You lose track of how long the two of you sit in his car. You don’t dare break away. He needs this. You’ve known the boy for years, but feel like you didn’t actually know anything about him until this week. He’s like you. He doesn’t quite understand how to connect to people, so the people he has in his life are terribly important and all consuming. For a long time, Jonathan just had his mom and Will–you just had your dad and Benny. Then you had each other. Now you both have Nancy.

You couldn’t save Benny, but you could do this for them. You could save their people. You think of the little girl that came in all dirt and grime and skin and bones. You picture her contagious smile as she tried milkshakes–her big doe eyes looking up at you–and you hope that she will be a permanent addition to your small collection of people. You decide she will be, once you defeat this thing. 

Next Chapter

Tags: @ucannotcompare

[roping-riding-wrangling]

hey there!

Loving your story so far!! I really liked that yn reads smutty books LOL hopefully she’ll be in a better mood to enjoy them soon

see ya around!

Thank you for reading it!

As for Y/n feeling up to more reading...dont get your hopes up😬😬😬

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Chapter Three: I Am A Rock

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

Summary: turns out running on barely an hour of sleep has consequences. Y/n goes for a drives, gossips, meets Steve (not just him staring at her from across the parking lot) and has a mental breakdown!

Previous Chapter

words: 4k

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of death, swearing, stalking, mentions of sex, nonconsensual pictures, Steve Harrington being an asshole, sleep deprivation and its effects

The alarm clock reads 12:08 am. You toss and turn, fluff your pillows, tighten your blanket around you but nothing eases the stress. Your dad had long since gone to bed so putting on a record was out of the question. You hadn’t written in a journal in months and you weren’t keen to start now. It was far too late to go on a jog. You glance at the clock again. 12:10 am. 

“Fuck”

Your contemplation hadn’t even passed the time. Throwing the blankets off, you huff up from the bed. The carpeted floors protect your feet from the cold. Feeling around in the dark, you open your dresser and pull out a pair of wool socks to brave the hardwood of the rest of the house. You step into the hallway, using the light from the living room lamp to illuminate your path. As quietly as possible, you fill the kettle and set it on the stove. You glance to your left and spot your book from where you’d left it in the morning. 

You’d honestly forgotten about it, but realize that this could be exactly what you need to settle your mind. As you wait for the water to warm up, you lean against the counter and use the soft  stove light to read. You’ve made it two chapters farther by the time the water gets hot enough. 

Armed with your tea and book, you set yourself up on the couch. Honestly, for being a paperback romance, A Pirate’s Love was rather compelling. Anastasia’s character arc wasn’t too bad. You suppose that of stock female leads, she did have a fair bit of agency. And her friendship with the pirate Robert made their romance seem pretty natural. You did doubt how historically accurate it was that Anastasia would have become the captain of a ship after only a year at sea. 

In no time, you were nearing the end of the book. 

“Well? What shall it be?” Captain Jones yelled at Anastasia, “your ship or your love?” at the last word, his blade pressed into Robert’s back, pushing him farther along the plank and pulling a strangled cry from the man. “No!” Anastasia roared, caught in the helpless situation. If she saved Robert, Captain Jones would seize immediate control of her ship and crew. Her hard-won freedom would slip from her fingers and everything she had sacrificed would be for naught. 

But if she chose her ship, she would lose Robert. Robert, who’d been her ticket out of the arranged marriage. Robert, who’d first taught her how to sail. Robert, who had been the only person by her side for the past 3 years. The man she loved, whom she was not sure she could navigate this or any other life without.

“Tick tock, lassie,” drawled captain Jones. He wickedly sneered at the woman, and she couldn’t help but be disgusted at the rotting teeth and sickly skin. 

Anastasia was frozen in panic. All she could do was flit her eyes between Jones, Robert, and her crew. Landing her eyes on Robert, he stared at her, lips a small, almost resigned frown. 

He took a step farther on the plank. 

“Robert! No!” cried Anastasia. 

“Let me make the choice easy, my love”

With that, Robert, quick as a rabbit, turned around, grabbed hold of captain jones, and pulled him tight to himself. He then used all his might and hurled them off the plank, together.

You slam the book shut. “What the fuck” you whisper. You had managed to get lost within the story, but the ending made you remember everything you were trying desperately to forget. You beeline for the trash and angrily throw the book in there. “Shit,” you say aloud, wringing out your hands, desperate to shake off the stress. 

You sneak a peek at the oven clock–it's just past 2 am. You feel trapped and the walls are moving in on you and the shadows look darker and your hands feel clammy and a bead of sweat trickles down your back and– you need to get out of here. You slide on your sneakers by the door, grab your keys and leave and quickly and quietly as you can. 

The ignition in your truck stalls a minute and the panic begins to set in again. You turn the key once more, and finally the engine starts. You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding and back out of the driveway. 

The windows are down and cold air hits your face. Normally, you’d recoil at the aggressive wind and biting cold, but now they are welcome distractions from the turmoil in your mind. The only sound is the rushing of the air. At the first red light, you reach into your glovebox and randomly pull a cassette out. You shove it into the port, not paying attention to it, and turn the volume up to overcome the noises of the truck. A familiar guitar melody lets you know you’re listening to Simon and Garfunkel.

Satisfied with the music, you blast down the roads of Hawkins, singing (screaming) along to the lyrics. As the songs continue, you recognize this as a mixtape you made a few years ago. You’d just gotten a tape recorder and the quality reflects your inexperience with the machine. There’s a clear switch when your dad had clearly taken over the recording, the audio suddenly becoming much clearer. In your mindless driving, you’ve ended up at lake Jordan. You park your car, head no longer swimming. You turn your truck off, and grateful at your earlier forgetfulness, grab your walkman from the passenger seat and the cassette from the deck, as well as Jonathan’s jacket. 

Out in the darkness, you lie in the bed of your truck, Jonathan’s jacket wrapped around you, staring up at the stars. You don’t recognize any constellations, but you attempt to make some up. A snake, a butterfly, a gun–no, not a gun, a vase. A vase with a flower in it. 

Side A ends, but when you flip the tape, it takes longer than normal for it to start playing. You pull the headphones around your neck and hold up the walkman trying to inspect it. 

The crack of a twig pierces through the dark silence. You would almost miss it, if not for the headphones on your ears. After a beat, you don’t hear anything else, and assume it's probably an animal somewhere in the woods. You give up on your walkman and, finally tired, you return to the cabin of your truck and begin the journey home. 

If you hadn’t had your music so loud, you probably would’ve heard the monstrous roar coming from the trees. 

––––––

You manage to get an hour of sleep before your morning alarm goes off. The coffee is twice as strong this morning and you down a cup and a half. The chilly air that you’d normally detest is, for the second time today, welcome as it keeps you awake on your drive. Tonight, you vow, you will actually get a decent night’s sleep. 

Practice is uneventful. Stacy, the only other junior on the team, asks for a few tips for diving and landing on her knees. You give her the pointers she asked for, albeit through several yawns. She seems to understand it though, and acts on your guidance, picking up the skills rather easily. Throughout the final scrimmage, you and her take turns saving the ball from hitting the floor. 

In the locker room, you’re one of the first to hit the showers and miraculously, the water is warm. You wipe the sweat and grime of the gym off your body and take a few extra seconds to hold your head under the showerhead, letting the water hit your face. 

Your wet hair sticks to your face as you get dressed, mindlessly listening to the idle chit-chat of the locker room. You have a few minutes before the bell will ring, so you sit on the floor against your locker and pull out your walkman. Removing the mixtape, you replace it with a cassette from your backpack–some ABBA album. You hit the play button and the tape starts up perfectly. You roll your eyes at how erratic your walkman can be and slip the headphones over your ears. 

Second period is full of notes being passed and whispered shared, despite the quiz. None of the information is shared with you directly, but you manage to overhear two names: Steve and Nancy. It's clearly salacious information, as it has the student body abuzz for the rest of the day. You sneak a glance at Nancy in the hallway and the girl seems distraught. You wonder, for a moment, if she and Steve had broken up, but then he waltzes up to her and plants a kiss on her and you’re left speculating again.

Your curiosities are finally answered in seventh period. Mr. Burkhart lets the class have an independent study day (you’re pretty sure he just doesn’t have anything planned) and Stacy, who sits next you, chats your ear off. Stacy seems to know everything going on within the halls of Hawkins. “And then I heard from from Anna P, who heard from Jimmy, who heard from Gareth, who overheard Tommy H that apparently Nancy Wheeler spent the night in Steve’s room, if you know what I mean,” she wiggles her eyebrows, insinuating the not-so-family-friendly activities that went on between the couple. 

“How does Tommy H even know that?” you ask her.

“Apparently, he was there.”

“What, like, in the room?”

“No! He saw them go into Steve’s room and I guess he heard them totally doing it.”

“That's gross. Like, really gross. Tommy H is a total perv. I bet he was listening at the door.”

“Ew! Y/n, that's gross to even think about.”

“He’s the one going around telling everyone about Steve and Nancy.”

Stacy takes a minute to consider that. 

“Huh, I guess you’re right. Steve’s house is pretty big, I’ve been in it and Tommy H would totally have to try to be listening to hear anything.” She shudders at the thought of the freckled boy trying to hear Steve and Nancy through the wall, “Ew, that’s totally skeezy of him. Especially when his girlfriend was probably there.”

“Carol was probably listening with him.”

Stacy giggles at that. Speaking of Carol, you glance in her direction and subtly stare as she and Nichole huddle together, whispering. You can’t tell what they’re speaking about, but you gather it's something more serious than Steve Harrington’s sexual escapades, if you can tell anything from Carol’s furrowed brow and Nichole’s concerned face. 

You turn back towards Stacy and interrupt her rambling about how gross both Carol and Tommy H are, “Why does anyone care if Steve and Nancy had sex? I mean, Carol and Tommy H practically devour each other in the halls constantly, but no one bats an eye.”

She blinks at that, clearly unprepared for the question. “Um,” she answers, “I don’t know…”

She trails off, and the conversation slowly dies as she flounders trying to find another conversation topic that won’t end as awkwardly. 

You turn your attention back to the two girls on the other side of the classroom. Nichole and Carol both rise from their seats and leave the room. 

Your eyelids once again start drooping, clearly the caffeine from the coke you had at lunch is wearing off. The gentle chatter of the classroom and the whirring of the desk fan lull you into a gentle daze. You quickly ask Stacy to wake you in ten minutes before resting your head on your arms and dozing off. 

A gentle shake wakes you from your nap and you rub the sleep out of your eyes. The power nap helped you, but you doubt you’ll last much longer without more caffeine. You glance over to see the girls have returned at some point during your nap. You get the hall pass from your teacher and make your way to your locker. Grabbing a few bills from your wallet, you beeline for the vending machine. Turning the corner, you crash into a body, and in your tired state, fall to the floor. 

“Oh jeez,” a masculine voice says, “Here, let me just-”

Standing above you, hand outstretched, is Steve Harrington. You stare at him dumbly for a minute before he waves it in front of you and you come to your senses. You grab his hand and he easily hoists you up. 

“Sorry about that,” he chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t mean to knock you down.”

He gives you an apologetic smile and his eyes crinkle slightly at the edges. 

“It's fine,” you brush off his apology, “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Shit!” he exclaims as he looks to his left. You follow his line of sight and see a dented can of coke, slightly leaking. You cringe and offer an apology, which he waves off, “It's fine, I’ll just get another one.”

“I’m uh, headed the same way.” you offer and he nods in response. 

“It's Y/n, right?” he asks.

“Yeah.” you answer warily.

“You’re on the…soccer team?”

“Volleyball, actually.”

“Ah sorry.”

“Its fine”

“How come we’ve never talked before? I know most of the volleyball girls come to my parties. Stacy, Anna, Patty…”

“I’m not really a party person”

“Got it”

The pair of you reach the vending machine and he lets you go first. You deposit your bills, receive your coke and your change. You offer the coins up to Steve, “Here. I kinda killed your first can, so…”

You tense at your own choice of words.

He doesn’t notice though and barks out a laugh. He takes them, inserting them and getting a new coke. “Cheers, killer”

You tense even more at the moniker, but clink your can to his. You down the can as fast as possible while he sips idly. He salutes as you wordlessly leave, walking back to your classroom.

You spend the rest of the period catching up on some of the work you missed yesterday. Stacy peers over your shoulder, nosy as ever, and raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yesterday’s work I missed.”

“Oh yeah! I meant to ask you where you were?”

You turn pale at the probing. You know she means well, but you’ve been avoiding reminders of the incident all day. Still, you answer her, “Benny Hammond, uh, died and I had to go to the police station to give them a statement.”

“Oh man, I’m sorry. I had no clue. God, this town is getting crazy. First the Byers kid, now this,” her voice takes a gentle note, “I can’t believe you came in today. No one would blame you if you missed a day, you know”

One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

“I know, I just didn’t want to skip school. Plus I had a quiz in second period today.”

You shrug your shoulders and hope she lets it go. She takes a breath, as if she is going to push the topic but ultimately says nothing. 

The final bell rings and the students flood the halls of Hawkins High School. You rush to your locker, grabbing your bag haphazardly. Groups of students clump together by their cars discussing carpools, gossip, and tonight’s football game. You throw your bag in your truck and fish out Jonathan’s jacket. Glancing around the carpark, you don’t spot him, but you do eye his car and start walking, intending to wait for him. 

Oddly enough, Steve and his friends are also at his car. Gone is Steve’s carefree demeanor from earlier. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pursed, clearly distraught over whatever the group is discussing.

The group tenses as you approach. Steve offers you a curt nod. 

“Whats up, killer?”

You scrunch your brows at the nickname that has unfortunately stuck. 

“I’m just waiting for Jonathan. What are you guys doing?” you ask, warily. There is a sinister air about them, and whatever has transpired in the last 30 minutes has Steve’s hackles raised. He doesn’t answer you, having spotted something over your shoulder that distracts him. He stands from his position on Jonathan’s trunk.

“Hey man.”

Jonathan looks just as confused as you feel. “What's going on?” He asks, eyes flicking between everyone before landing on you. You shrug your shoulders at him. 

Steve responds to the smaller boy, “Nichole was just telling us about some of your work.”

Carol pipes up with a smirk, “We’ve heard great things.”

It seems that Jonathan connects dots that you don’t have, and you feel slightly stupid for being the only one in the group that doesn’t understand what's going on. You grip Jonathan’s jacket tighter in your hands. 

Steve continues, “We’d just love to take a look, you know–as connoisseurs of art.”

Jonathan looks back at you, some unreadable emotion dancing across his face, and attempts to break through the group to get to his car. Unfortunately, Tommy H is quicker than him, and pulls his bag off his shoulder and tosses it to Steve. “Man,” Steve says nastily, “he’s totally tripping, he must have something to hide.”

He opens the backpack and retrieves several photos. You can’t help but look at the pages and a gasp breaks from your lips. “Jonathan, what is this?”

“Y/n,” he responds quietly.

“Y/n, this is what happens when creeps are given too much freedom and no consequences.” Steve tells you, jaw hardening

“That's not…” Jonathan trails off. 

You stare transfixed at the pages in your hand. Barbara Holland sits on the edge of a diving board, a sad look on her face. Nancy Wheeler through the window–shirtless. A familiar pit settles in your stomach. 

Tommy and Carol pull the stack from you and start combing through them. 

“Dude!” Tommy H yells and Carol backs him up, “Yeah this totally isn’t creepy at all.”

Jonathan seems to find his voice and defends himself, “I was looking for my brother.”

“No,” Steve counters, “no, this is called stalking.”

“What’s going on?” a new, gentle voice joins the mix. You look over to see Nancy Wheeler, the focal point of many of Jonathan’s photos. 

“Here comes the starring lady,” Tommy teases.

“What?” she questions

“This creep was spying on us last night,” Carol responds and hands the girl a photo from the bunch, “He was probably going to save this one for later.”

You look down at the jacket in your hands as Carol explains. Last night? That means he was probably just getting done with taking the photos when you found him. Was his empathy a ploy to throw you off of his creepy scent? You thought you knew him fairly well. Hell, he was probably your closest friend. Christ, that’s depressing: a kid you only know fairly well is your closest friend.your train of thought spirals further, spinning farther out of control. Your closest friend, a kid you only know fairly well, is a total creep!

“See, you can tell he knows that it's wrong,” Steve begins laying into the boy, “But that's the thing about perverts. It's hardwired into them, you know, they just can’t help themselves.”

He begins ripping apart the pictures in his hands.

“So you just have to take away his toy.”

The taller boy grabs the camera and you take the tiniest step towards him. You don’t know how you’re going to stop him, and you certainly can’t defend Jonathan’s actions, but breaking the camera would take it too far. 

“Steve,” Nancy clearly has the same sentiment. 

“C’mon man, not the camera,” Jonathan begs.

“Hey, hey ok,” Steve calls out, extending his hand with the camera towards Jonathan. 

There's a split second where you think that the issue has been resolved and Steve has cooled down. Then the camera is in a million pieces on the ground. Jonathan makes a strangled noise. The air is stolen from your lungs. Your feet are frozen to the ground. 

Steve shoulders past the devastated boy, his posse following. He looks back at you, his eyebrow raised– a clear invitation to join them. You stay rooted to your spot, unable to move and his eyes narrow. His clear brown eyes hold a fierceness in them and you know your inaction is a decision to him. 

“Nancy, c’mon!” he beckons her over and she stands from where you hadn’t noticed her collecting pieces of the torn photos. Before she leaves, she stares at you. Her eyes flick to the jacket in your hands. Her blue eyes are wide and slightly watery. They make the rest of her feel that much smaller. Her nose is slightly red from the cold and her lips are pressed in a thin line. She seems so fragile in this moment, like a slightly-too-strong gust of wind could knock her over. Yet there is a quiet resolve behind the ocean in her eyes. She stands firm, torn pieces in hand and gives you a small, barely there nod. She turns heel and plants herself under Steve Harrington’s arm. 

Before they fully leave your eyesight, she looks back at Jonathan sadly. 

Everything seems to process in slow motion for you. You finally look down at the boy, desperately trying to collect the fractured remains of his camera. He looks up at you, unshed tears in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out. You gently lay the jacket on the top of his car and walk away, leaving him alone on the ground of the parking lot. 

––––––

You drive home in silence. This morning you couldn’t escape the onslaught of terrible thoughts and now you can barely form a coherent one. You don’t even bother bringing your bag inside with you when you get home. 

Your dad sits on the couch, reading a magazine. A Simon and Garfunkel song plays on the record–the same one from your now ruined cassette. Wordlessly, you crawl onto the couch with him. He raises an eyebrow but says nothing as you tuck yourself under his arm, curling yourself into a tight ball. Mindlessly, he draws small circles on your arm. 

Your breath catches in your throat, and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. It's the final crack in the dam. You press your face closer to his shoulder in an attempt to muffle your sobs. 

“Oh buddy…” he croons sympathetically, and you just cry harder. You feel him readjust his posture, likely setting down his magazine. You sit up and gulp down a few lungfuls of air. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” he prompts. 

“Its all a mess! Benny is dead and now I don’t have a job and I know it's terrible that thats one of my concerns, but it is! And there's missing kids all over town. I don’t know if she is ok and Will Byers– he’s so small. And I realized that today Jonathan is my closest friend but hes a fucking stalker creep and all the kids in school are terrible evil people. And now my friends are either dead, a creep or my dad! How fucked up is that? I just want to go back to Sunday when everything was fine. But nothings fine now and its all fucked and Steve’s right!”

Your rant is punctuated by collapsing back into your dad’s chest. You continue sobbing, wetting the front of his shirt. He holds your head and lets out a string of whispered comforts, “You’re okay. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out. Shh shh shh. Just breathe…there you go”

His rhythmic breathing is a balm to you, and you feel your blinks lasting longer and longer. The record ends and he rises to his feet, pulling you with him. Your feet drag as you lean on him. He leads you to your bedroom and lays you down on the bed, removing your sneakers. He lifts the blanket over you and tucks you in, something he hasn’t done since you were twelve. 

You relieve your heavy eyelids and welcome the darkness. He turns off the lamp and you hear a gentle whisper of “Good night buddy” before sleep takes its hold on you. 

Next Chapter

taglist: @ucannotcompare

[roping-riding-wrangling]

episode two: vecnas curse

“Hey, guys?” Max gets everyone’s attention and points towards the boathouse.  Dustin is the first to start walking down, Robin and Max not far behind, and you stand back with Steve. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go into the creepy abandoned boathouse. Yay.” “We’ve done worse, angel.” You sigh. “It’s really depressing that you’re right.”

Summary: you and billy play marco polo, max interrupts a saturday morning breakfast at the henderson household, robin crushes steves dream of becoming a 1950s housewife, reefer rick has an odd taste in movies, boathouses are creepy in the dark, and eddie munson likes it when you pull his hair.

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: drowning, violence, swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n, blood mentions

Words: 10.5k (i wrote this in one day)

Before you swing in: hey gang !!! so i wasnt supposed to update so soon. and then i wrote this entire chapter in one day. so now here we are. anyways ! read the warnings, this chapter starts heavy. on another note: i start senior year of college on tuesday so updates will vary as i settle into my routine again so pls be patient !! for now, heres a very surprising and unplanned chapter 2, enjoy !

–

Water. 

There’s so much water. 

In your mouth, in your chest, burning your lungs and swallowing every scream that scrapes your throat to escape. Every breath you take, more water spills into your body and quiets the desperate cries and gags you. 

Your head breaks through the water’s surface and you inhale so sharply it burns your lungs even more than the chlorine does. You choke on the air, it’s sickly sweet, and a hand shoves you back under the water before you can inhale again. 

Bubbles encase your screams, your arms flail up, your legs kick wildly to try and reach the surface again. But the arm attached to the hand is strong, it holds your body under the water without effort. In the rims of the ripples above you, the corpse of a boy you once knew stares down at you.

“I’ve found you.” Billy sneers, his voice muffled by the water that rushes in your ears.

His eyes are cold, his skin sunken in and littered with cracks. It’s yellowed, decayed, edges of his skin have turned gray as he’s decomposed. Billy’s hair is matted and his shirt is torn and yet his hand shoves you underneath the water again and again and again.

You try to scream, you try to fight against him, but he’s always been so much stronger than you. Even in death, Billy Hargrove’s weight on you anchors you to the rushing water that threatens to drown you. 

Your head breaks the surface again. Billy pulls you up by your hair, your scalp burns. Air wracks your lungs as you struggle to inhale anything other than Hawkin’s pool water. Coughs shake your body, bile rises in your throat, and Billy shakes his head at you in disgust.

“I’ve found you.” He shoves your head under, your nails claw at his skin but he doesn’t flinch. Blood drips down his arm, stains the pool’s crystal blue, and yet you’re drowning still. Again Billy yanks your head back up, for a brief moment you can breathe, before his breath ghosts your face and he hisses into your ear, “I’ve found you.”

Water. It’s all you can feel around you. Your lungs are on fire, you scrape your nails the concrete as you struggle against Billy, but you’re dying. 

You’re dying.

Billy pulls you back, air kisses your face. Your vision darkens, more bile rises. There’s so much water. You can’t stop coughing, you think you’re crying, the chlorine stings your eyes as it sears your raw throat. Billy slams your head down onto the pool’s edge. Pain explodes in the bridge of your nose, blood stains the water even more.

“I’ve. Found. You.” You take one final gasp of air before Billy shoves you back under the water. 

You’re weightless. 

Everything goes dark. 

Suddenly your body rips forward, jerking awake so violently that it makes you nauseous. Your chest heaves, your body struggles to inhale the air that was so cruelly taken from you in your dream. 

It had been a dream, though the water felt so real. The taste of chlorine lingers in your mouth.

Panting, you force yourself to look around your room, list all the things you see. It’s become a little game you play, every time you have a nightmare so vivid that it challenges reality. Your eyes find Steve’s old basketball hoodie, draped over your desk chair. You focus on the bite of bitter cold from the charm bracelet’s silver that rests against your wrist. Breathing through your nose, you try to name what you can smell.

The scent of your mother’s famous waffles wafts through your room. Notes of freshly roasted coffee accompany it. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, your heartbeat settles down. Your fists unclench, your body finally relaxes. 

It was only a dream. Billy isn’t really here. He didn’t really tried to drown you at the pool. It was all just a fucked up, horrible dream.

“Y/N! Breakfast is ready!” Your mother’s sweet, doting voice carries through your closed door. “Come join Dusty and I, please.”

You rub your face, sighing deeply. The nightmare bears down upon your shoulders, the weight of last night crushes your chest. “I’ll be there in a second!” Your voice is brittle, exhaustion evident.

Breakfast with your mom and Dustin is the last thing you want right now, but you know it’s better not to deny Claudia. She’ll worry, ask you if everything is okay. You’re scared she’ll notice that you aren’t at Family Video for the first time in months. Every weekend you’re there to see Steve, to tease him with Robin. 

But the hurt that marred Steve’s devastatingly handsome face last night… You can’t see him, at least not right now. You’re not even sure he’d want to see you, which scares you even more. 

You take your time getting ready, your movements slow. In the shower you scrub your skin raw, as if you can cleanse yourself of the memories from last night. The betrayal in Steve’s brown eyes, Jonathan’s raspy voice asking questions that made your head spin. Lucas and his heartbreak as your brother abandoned him. Dustin’s denial of your code blue. 

Pulling on one of Steve’s old t-shirts, the smell of his cologne lumps tears in your throat. It’s all too much. You miss him, though how can you be sure you haven’t really lost him?

When you finally sit at the table, Dustin doesn’t look up at you, and your shitty mood only worsens. Only your mother brightens when she sees you. “Y/N! Here, I saved you some bacon, I know you don’t like it crispy.”

She slides some food onto your plate and you try to give her what you hope is a bright smile. Your mother can see through people in a way only you can, an ability she passed down to you. Today, you’re afraid that if she asks you what’s wrong, you’ll break. “Thanks, mom.”

Breakfast is tense. Your fork scrapes against the plate. The food looks delicious, your mother is a brilliant cook, but there’s cement in your stomach and you can’t bring yourself to eat any of it. Dustin doesn’t look at you even once, and your mother tries her best to make conversation. 

“So, any big plans for spring break?” She asks, looking eagerly at you and Dustin.

You push some fruit around on your plate. “No, not really.”

“Hm, well why don’t the two of you go and build something together? Remember that robot set from Stevie? I’m sure you and Dusty could build something with what’s left!” 

“Yeah, maybe.” As if Dustin wants anything to do with you right now. You must not sound convincing enough because your mother starts to frown. Panicked, you clear your throat and try to change the subject. “Hey, have you gotten any new toys for Tews?”

“I got her some new stuffed mice, but she doesn’t seem to like them.” Your mother responds, setting her fork down. She looks at her children in front of her, sees the tension that brews between them. Dustin hasn’t said anything all morning, and the dark circles underneath your eyes worries her. Grasping at straws, she rushes over to the T.V. and turns it on, hoping one of your favorite programs is playing. “Here, let’s watch something.”

Only the Saturday morning cartoons don’t appear on the screen. Instead, Channel 9 lights up. Hawkins’ news channel. 

“We’re at the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County.” A broadcaster announces as a swarm of people behind her gather around something. There are cops everywhere, and you get up from the table, curious. “We don’t have a lot of details now, but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins HIgh student was discovered early this morning.”

Your mother lets out a strained gasp, the shock ripping through her body. Your own body stills, your heart skips a beat. The broadcaster drones on, explaining how the police believe there’s foul play involved.

Someone has been murdered in Hawkins. 

Over by the table, Dustin’s eyes finally meet yours. You know he’s thinking what you are. Monsters have plagued Hawkins for years now, but there’s never been something as gruesome as a murder. Not in the six years your family has lived here. 

Something isn’t right. The news channel interviews a plethora of neighbors in the trailer park. One woman talks about Barb, all the suspicious deaths since 1983. How Hawkins is cursed. Your eyes find Dustin’s again and you both exhale nervously. The woman is right, although she can never know what really goes on in this town. Hawkins is cursed, but not in the way anyone thinks.

Then, terrifyingly too late, you remember that the broadcaster had announced that the body was found in Forest Hills. Max lives in Forest Hills, and the body had been a highschool student. The police haven’t released the name of who it was and panic slices your nerves at the thought that it could be Max. 

“My heart can’t take it anymore. It just can’t.” Your mother whimpers, holding Tews close to her chest. Your heart aches for her, she grew up in this town and all it has endured these last few years is pain and death. 

Dustin sighs next to you and when the doorbell rings, he goes to open it. You follow, nervous and fretful as you always are.

Max stands on your porch, and the moment you realize it’s her, you pull her tightly into your arms. “Oh, thank God.” She stiffens at the touch, you notice that she’s out of breath, panicked. A terrible, horrible feeling of dread takes a hold of you. Pulling away, you force her averting eyes to look into yours. She’s scared; she’s never scared. “Max. What happened?”

Everything falls apart quickly after that.

Max drags you and Dustin into your room and collapses onto the bean bag. Her words are jumbled as she tries to explain everything. You sit motionless on your bed next to her, listening to every word she says. Dustin paces the room, both of you try to make sense of what you’re hearing.

“The body… It was found in Eddie’s trailer.” 

Your breath catches at Max’s words. Dustin’s steps falter. Nausea washes over you, you place a shaky hand over your stomach to quell it. You’ve left your brother alone with Eddie hundreds of times this year, and now a dead body has been found in his home?

“No, that can’t be possible.” Dustin doesn’t want to believe it, he doesn’t want to consider the idea that his mentor could ever harm anyone.

Max bites her lip. “The police have his trailer taped up, it’s under lockdown. And the body they found, she was-” She pauses, takes a deep breath. “It was bad, guys.”

“You can’t seriously think it was Eddie though, right?”

You catch Dustin’s arm and give him a warning look. He’s antsy, you get it, but he needs to calm down. Turning to Max, you ask the question you’re dreading. “Who was the dead student, Max?”

The girl looks down, plays with her fingers, and you can see the remorse that drapes her shoulders. Fear plagues you again, it had to have been someone you knew. After a few moments, Max finally tells you. “Chrissy.”

An overwhelming sense of grief forces any air left in your lungs out. Chrissy had always been so kind to you. She was a ray of sunlight, you shared a class together sophomore year, she had given you daisies when she heard of Will’s disappearance. 

Chrissy Cunningham was one of the few good things in Hawkins.

And now she’s dead. 

Dustin can’t believe it, either. “Chrissy Cunningham?”

“A-are you sure?” You breathe out, eyes following his pacing figure as Max nods.

“Yes, she was in her cheerleader outfit. Same thing she was in when I saw her with Eddie.”

You frown at this. “She was with Eddie?”

Max nods again, and you’re struck by how odd the entire situation is. Chrissy is, was, the head cheerleader. While she was always nice to you, she never interacted with anyone like Eddie. Hell, hardly anyone ever associates with the guy, so you can’t believe that she would even talk to him. That she would willingly step foot in his trailer, especially after the basketball game last night. 

You had overheard one of the kids on the team mention a party to Lucas before he left. Chrissy should’ve been there, next to Jason as they celebrated the win. 

“Did you tell the cops?” Dustin asks, still trying to wrap his head around it all. 

Max shakes her head. “No, but I-I can’t be the only one who saw them together. I mean, they stood out.”

“Are you even sure they were together?” You also can’t wrap your head around the fact that they’d be together in the first place. “Maybe… I don’t know, Chrissy had a friend who lives in Forest Hills as well?”

“No, Eddie and I are the only two students who live in the trailer park.”

Dustin paces again, in complete disbelief. “Eddie, the freak, with Chrissy, the cheerleader.”

“You know, his name’s not in the news yet or anything, but–”

“Eddie is going to be the prime suspect for Chrissy’s murder.” You finish for Max, understanding where she’s going with all this. It’s the only logical conclusion that can be drawn from finding a dead girl’s body in the guy’s trailer. 

Anyone would be suspicious of that, and yet Dustin refuses to admit it.

“No, that’s crazy.” He glares at you, he can’t believe what you’re implying. “Eddie didn’t do this. No way.”

Max looks at you, she has a grimace on her face, and your expression mirrors hers. Sighing, you try to reason with your brother. “Dustin, they found a body in Eddie’s trailer.”

“No way,” Dustin hisses out, eyes burning into yours. He won’t back down from this, he knows you hate Eddie but he’s furious that you’d go as low as to accuse him of murder. You’re so fucking hypocritical. “And, FYI, your annoying vendetta against him won’t get us anywhere.”

“I don’t have a vendetta against him!” You scoff, hurt that Dustin would assume you’re only saying all this because Eddie mildly annoys you. 

Max, sensing an argument brewing, gets up from the bean bag and intervenes. “We can’t rule it out.”

“Yes we can!”

“Dustin!” You and Max berate him at the same time, now standing in front of him. He isn’t listening, he’s blatantly ignoring the fact that someone died in the same trailer Eddie grew up in. He was the only one with Chrissy last night. Dustin is refusing to see the glaring red flags presented in front of him. 

“Look, you guys don’t know him like I do, okay? Y/N practically wants the guy dead most days–”

“Hey!”

“So I don’t necessarily trust her judgment on the matter.” Dustin doesn’t let you interrupt him, he’s adamant to defend his friend. “When we got to high school, Lucas made all his sports friends. Mike and me? I mean, no one was nice to us.”

Upset creeps up your neck. You had been there for the boys, offering them sanctuary their first day, but they had denied you. It hadn’t been enough for them. They didn’t want your help, not anymore. “Dustin…”

“No one except Eddie.” He finishes, eyes only on Max as if it’d make it sting any less. He recognizes what he’s saying, that it isn’t fair to you, but he’s too overwhelmed to try and clarify it all to you. Not right now.

Max’s shoulders deflate, her resolve dwindles but she still argues anyways. “Okay, well. They said the same shit about Ted Bundy.” 

“Ted Bundy was charming.” You snort, understanding what Max is trying to say, but it’s a poor example. “Eddie isn’t.”

She smiles briefly at you, the joke amusing her, but then she sees Dustin’s narrowed eyes and quickly defends herself. “I mean, he’s like a super nice guy, but then he’s murdering women on the weekends.” 

“So you’re saying Eddie is like Ted Bundy?”

“No, we aren’t saying that.” You mollify Dustin, although you can’t help but add in, “besides, Eddie could never lure in multiple women. We still aren’t sure how he even lured Chrissy in the first place.”  

Dustin is about to start yelling at you, you can see it in the way his mouth twitches and the enraged breath he exhales, but Max is quick to step between the two of you. She isn’t sure why you guys are at each other’s throats this morning, but she doesn’t have time to deal with it.

“No, we aren’t saying that.” Max glares at you, and you smile weakly back at her. “We’re-we’re saying that we can’t presume anything okay? But it doesn’t look good for Eddie.”

Dustin, now finally starting to listen, sits on the bean bag behind him. He lays there, looking small in the mass of the makeshift bed. He’s crestfallen, and your anger from earlier disappears. Sighing again, you sit next to him and nudge his shoulder. “Listen, I know it’s a lot right now, but maybe the police will find evidence that Eddie didn’t do it–”

“Why haven’t you told the cops this?” Dustin sits up, eyes on Max.

She crosses her arms, the question surprises her. “I… I don’t know.”

Dustin presses her, both of you notice how her body language changes. She draws into herself, she’s uncertain. There’s something there, buried beneath all the information she’s told you today. Something else happened in Eddie’s trailer, something she isn’t telling you. 

“Max,” you soften your voice, afraid. “What did you see last night?”

The girl’s knees find your bed and her body falls against it. Max’s eyes won’t meet yours, she almost seems scared. Her demeanor causes your stomach to drop. What could she possibly have seen that terrified her so much?

“After I saw Eddie and Chrissy go in the trailer…” Max looks up at you and Dustin, her blue eyes guarded, alert. “Something else happened.” 

She explains the lights flickering in her house. The static on her T.V., how the air felt thick. She tells you that she could hear a scream, Eddie’s fleeing silhouette ran into his car and the way the tires screeched on the pavement as he left. 

The more Max recounts, the tighter the fist of dread inside your stomach coils. Flickering lights, static… It can’t be what you think it is. You catastrophize everything in your mind, you always are the first to fear danger that isn’t really there. Hopper closed the gate last summer. He died saving the world. The gate is closed, the Upside Down is out of your life. For good this time. 

But then why does it feel like its spillage is leaking through the cracks you’ve desperately tried to glue over?

Max must see the panic on your face and she quickly backtracks. “Y/N, it wasn’t that weird or anything. Eddie always drives like a maniac and the power goes off at my place all the time. It’s a piece of shit, alright?”

“Then why did Eddie run?” The question taunts you, there’s something wrong with it. Shitty power grids and reckless driving can be explained, but why would someone scream while fleeing a crime they committed?

Max swallows. The question has been on her mind, too. “The look on his face… He was scared. Really scared.”

Dustin sucks in a breath, it’s subtle but you can feel it against you. He looks up, eyes meeting yours, and the dread that resides in your ribcage seeps into his. Max stutters out possible explanations, she tries to find something else to explain what it could mean, but you all know that it’s no use.

You realize why Max had rushed to your house. Why she hasn’t gone to the police with what she knows.

The fear on Max’s face when she arrived on your doorstep, how breathless she’d been from running over. That had been real, familiar. The same fear that crossed her face when you’d first unwillingly introduced her to the Upside Down all those years ago.

“Or maybe Eddie was scared because…”

“Something else killed her.” Dustin mumbles quietly, piecing it all together as well.

Your body is numb, your lips move but you don’t recognize the voice that speaks. “You think it’s the Upside Down.”

The words hang in the air, everything stills the moment they’re brought into the light. Beside you, Max nods, slowly, regretfully. As if she doesn’t want to believe it herself. “But, that’s impossible, right?”

Every year the impossible somehow becomes possible. Every year the wound that scabs over reopens, the blood of it chokes everyone you love. 

“I don’t know,” Dustin’s voice is soft, he’s scared, too. “It should be.”

“And yet we always end up here,” you laugh bitterly. It’s the same fucking thing, over and over again. 

Dustin’s hand finds yours, his touch is warm, yet unfamiliar now. He hasn’t held your hand in months, you almost forgot what it feels like against yours. “We don’t know that,” he squeezes your hand. He’s kind again, he’s your brother again. “There’s only one person who knows what actually happened.” 

Eddie. 

Whatever he saw, it’s important. No one will believe him if it’s the Upside Down, no one will understand that he hadn’t done anything at all. That monsters haunt the shadows of this town, that the deaths in Hawkins hadn’t really been deaths. 

You have to find him. 

– 

Steve doesn’t think he’s had a worse morning than the one he’s having today. He hadn’t slept, his exhaustion a reminder of how much of an asshole he had been to you last night. He had yelled at you; he’s never, ever yelled at you. Not in the entire three years he’s known you, not even when you’d hurt him so deeply by cutting him out of your life that fateful summer.

But last night Steve swears he saw the same look in your eyes that Nancy had in hers the night she told him she didn’t love him. He saw it, he knows he did, and he had been fucking terrified. He can’t lose you, he doesn't think he’d survive if you ever left him. Especially not if he’s the reason you leave.

Steve is miserable, and his foul mood only worsens when you don’t float through Family Video’s front door with a smile on your lips and a glint in your eye like you always do every Saturday. 

“Where’s Y/N? Normally she’s here by now.” Robin looks around the store, noting your unusual absence as she scans a movie to restock. 

Steve pretends not to hear her, he really doesn’t want to talk about it right now. He knows that if he tells Robin the two of you had a fight, she’d demand an explanation and promptly call him an idiot, regardless of whether or not he’s in the wrong. 

“Dingus, did you hear me?” Robin shoves the cart his way, causing it to hit his hip with a slightly painful thud. “Where’s that gorgeous girlfriend of ours?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Steve grabs the cart and throws random movies inside of it as he starts to walk down the romance aisle. Fitting. 

His coworker doesn’t miss the way he avoids the question. Suspicious, she blocks Steve’s path and forces him to look at her. “You’re dodging. Why are you dodging? Where’s Y/N?”

“Robin, we should really be focusing on work right now–”

“Oh my God, did you kill her? Did all that hairspray rot your brain and cause you to kill Hawkins’ sweetheart and force the world to mourn the beautiful legacy she’d leave behind? Huh, is that it?”

“What! No, I didn’t kill Y/N. What is wrong with you?” Steve elbows the girl, he isn’t in the mood for her ramblings, yet Robin remains standing in his way. She raises an eyebrow at him, silently daring him to keep avoiding her questions, and Steve knows he has to fess up. Looking away, he clears his throat. “We, uh. Sorta had a fight last night.”

Robin frowns. “A fight?”

“Yeah.”

“But you two never fight.”

“Yup.”

“Alright, so it was all your fault then.”

Steve rolls his eyes, he knew Robin would say that. “I didn’t even tell you what it was about.”

“And yet I know it was all your fault.” Even though she’s kidding, she sees the hurt that flashes across Steve’s face and eases up. Clearly whatever the fight had been about was bad. Bad enough that you don’t show up to Family Video like you always do. Taking pity on her friend, Robin flicks Steve’s forehead and prompts him to start talking. “Alright, I’ll bite. Tell me what happened.”

Steve leans against the wall, rests his head back. He knows he should talk about this, Robin will know what to do. He doesn’t have the best track record of communicating with his girlfriends, and for the first time in his life, he wants to try with you. Steve would do anything for you, even if it means being vulnerable with Robin in order to figure out how to make you laugh his name so softly again. 

“Y/N was… Upset last night. After the game. She’s been having some problems with Dustin lately, and, I don’t know. I was trying to be funny, I guess? Cheer her up, get her to laugh.”

Robin winces. “Oh, that never ends well.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Steve huffs. He always somehow makes things worse, and last night he’d gone for a world record with you. “I just… I really wanted to see her smile, you know? So I joked about our future together, said we’d live in a shoebox apartment in New York after she graduates, and she just…”

“Lost it?” Robin shakes her head at him, trying to hide her disbelief. She wants to give Steve the benefit of doubt, but she thinks she knows where this is going. And it isn’t good.

“She told me I couldn’t come with her.” The words had branded themselves onto Steve’s chest, the flesh still raw and bleeding. You hadn’t wanted him to come with you; you didn’t want Steve anywhere near you. “She was just going to leave, without me.”

Robin stands next to him and she nudges his head with her hand, hitting him without any malice. He’s such an idiot sometimes, a hopeless, well meaninged idiot. “Okay, you’re being very thespian right now. I’m sure that’s not what Y/N meant when she said you couldn’t follow her to college. She’s like, crazy in love with you. Anyone can see that.”

“Then why was I the only one considering our future the entire time? I mean,” Steve scoffs, angry again. “I asked her what she thought we’d do after she applied to college, and she couldn’t even answer me. For months she was applying and she didn’t stop to think about us, about our relationship. She just… she was just going to leave.”

“And your solution was to… Follow her to college, unannounced?”

Steve recognizes how stupid he must sound, but he doesn’t expect Robin to understand. When you’re with someone, when you love them, your actions become theirs. How they breathe becomes your heartbeat, how they sleep becomes your solace. From the moment Steve’s eyes laid on you, he knew he’d follow you to the ends of the earth.

He just thought you’d do the same for him. 

“I wasn’t going to just show up at NYU unannounced, alright?” Steve pauses, he tries to find the right words. “But I thought… I thought she envisioned us together, for the rest of our lives. Instead she told me that I deserve better, as if I-I’m physically able to imagine a world where I’m not standing next to her, where I’m not a ten minute drive down the street.”

Robin bites her lip. She thinks she understands what Steve means, where his actions were coming from. She remembers the late night talks about Nancy, how the girl had hurt him deeply when she abandoned him. The surface level love that tainted his perception of himself for years afterwards. Robin knows that Steve clings onto any semblance of stability he’s presented. Years of being lonely and used have left him unwilling to let go of the ones he loves the most. 

But that doesn’t mean he should give up his entire life to do so. 

Robin thinks that this is what you really were trying to tell Steve, even if he’s too blind to see it right now. “Y/N wants you to live your own life. You gotta see that, Steve.”

“She is my life!” Steve throws his hands up in the air, he’s sick of explaining this to everyone. You’re his everything. You’re the blood he bleeds and the tears he sheds. His life is yours. He doesn’t care how pathetic it may sound or how dramatic it may seem. 

“Steve,” Robin places a hesitant hand on his arm, and when he doesn’t pull away, she takes it as a sign to continue. “Y/N loves you, she wants what’s best for you. Meanwhile, you have no idea what you want. You’re seriously considering abandoning everything to live in a giant, rat infested city, and you hate cities! I mean, what would you even do there? Lay around all day and wait for Y/N to come home like some 1950’s housewife? No offense, Stevie, but you don’t have the legs for a dress. Although, maybe if you wore heels and some lipstick–”

“Get to the point, Robin.”

“Sorry,” she shakes her head quickly, refocuses. “The point is that her not wanting you to follow her to college is nothing personal. If Y/N didn’t see a future with you, then she wouldn’t waste her time with you. Simple as that. But she does, and she’s totally, madly in love with you. Plus, we both know that the real reason you want to go with her is because you’re scared she’ll find some hot, 6’5 guy to replace you with and if you’re not there, she’ll be swallowed up by all those hot models and rich business men who prowl the streets of New York–”

Steve covers his ears, shoving Robin away from him. “Okay, okay! I get it, Jesus. There’s plenty of hot men in New York, you’re totally not making this worse for me.”

“So you admit that you’re scared she’ll find someone else.”

“Okay, no. I didn’t say that–”

Robin runs towards the other end of the store and grabs a VHS tape. “Ignoring you! I’m right, you’re wrong, and I’ve just found our morning movie: Doctor Zhivago.”

Steve lets her change the subject, he’s tired of arguing anyways. “You know I don’t do double VHS.”

“But it’s about doomed love.”

Of course it is. “Oh, well that’s relatable.”

“Precisely.” Robin starts to go on and on about an actress in the movie who’s hot, but Steve drowns her out as he returns the cart. She grabs the T.V. remote and clicks it on for their movie, but quickly their morning plan dissipates when Channel 9 comes onto the screen.

“... that the body of a Hawkins High student was discovered early this morning.”

Steve and Robin stare at the screen in silence, the broadcaster’s words echo throughout the room. A Hawkins student is dead. The temperature in the room drops, Robin shifts uneasily next to him and Steve presses his arm against hers, silently offering comfort. 

They stand side by side as the broadcast goes on. Neither one of them speaks, listening quietly as the details are revealed. It’s a horrific murder, from the sounds of it. The more the channel announces, the more tense Steve becomes. He doesn't like it, violence has always made him anxious. As his nerves spiral, he gets the horrifying idea that maybe the body is yours. 

He knows it isn’t, he dropped you off at home last night, but he hadn’t stayed to make sure you made it inside safely. Steve curses, he’s a fucking idiot. He left you alone last night, and if you got hurt because of his selfish actions, he will never forgive himself. 

Suddenly the front door opens and you run in with Dustin and Max by your side.

“Hey, Steve.” Dustin tries to get his attention, but the teen is already hopping the counter, sprinting over to you.

Forgetting about the fight from before, Steve clings onto your shirt and hugs you. His arms shake, you can hear his heartbeat stuttering a mile a minute. Overwhelmed with the scent of him and the feel of his body against yours, you melt into the hug as relief sags your bones. “You’re okay,” Steve exhales against your ear, his hand finding your hair. He tangles his fingers through the strands, tries to pull you in even closer. 

“I’m okay.” You whisper back, clinging onto him just as desperately as he is to you. 

The moment is interrupted by Dustin, who pounds on the counter to break the two of you apart. “Hey! Assholes!”

Steve glares at the kid, he doesn’t let you go, but he reluctantly steps away. “Someone was murdered, you know that, right?”

Dustin ignores the sarcasm. “How many phones do you have?” 

“Two, why?”

“Technically three, if you count Keith’s.” Robin adds.

You make a disgusted face. “I wouldn’t touch his phone.”

Max tells Dustin that three phones will work and the younger teen quickly takes off his backpack before sliding it onto the counter.

Steve narrows his eyes, looking at you with slight panic. “What is he doing?”

Dustin throws the backpack over the counter and Robin yells as the kid jumps over and lands with a loud thud on the ground. He brings down a pile of tapes as he does so, and Steve tears himself from your side to try and stop him, but it’s too late. The damage is already done and Dustin has sat himself at one of the computers. 

“Dude! My tapes, what are you doing?” Steve cries, groaning as he bends down to pick up the ruined pile. 

Robin glares at your brother as she huffs as well. You quickly hop the counter, an apologetic smile on your face, and bend down to help. “I’m sorry about him. He’s Dustin. That’s the only way I can explain his behavior.”

“I’m setting up base of operations here.” Dustin’s fingers fly over the keyboard, ignoring Steve’s distressed cries. 

“Base of operations?” Robin looks at you, she likes you, she really does, but sometimes she hates Dustin. “Y/N, I love you, but I’m about to strangle your brother.”

You hand her a tape and blow a strand of hair out of your face. “Ya know, I get that a lot.”

“Stop, get off!” Steve pushes Dustin, but the kid is like stone at the computer. Max is beside him now, having chosen to walk around the counter like a normal person. 

“I need it.” Dustin responds, not giving much else for an explanation. 

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and turns to you. “Y/N, please come get your dog.”

“He’s not my dog–”

“I need the computer for Eddie’s friends’ phone numbers.”

“Oh, you mean your new best friend that Y/N and I hate? The one you think is cooler because he plays your nerdy game?”

You step in between Steve and Dustin now. You’re getting really tired of being accused of hating Eddie. While it may not necessarily be wrong, hate is a strong word. “We don’t hate Eddie, you’re just dramatic, Steve.”

“I never said he was cooler than you guys,” Dustin tries to amend, finally looking at you and Steve.

Behind you, Robin slams a tape down while she rebuilds the ruined pile. “Seriously, you guys, maybe on a Monday you can play around here like toddlers, but it’s Saturday. It’s our busiest day.”

You help her pick up a dropped sign, feeling bad for disturbing their place of work so early. “I promise I wouldn’t take them here unless it was important, please don’t hate me–”

“What Y/N is taking too long to say is that this cannot wait until Monday.” Dustin jots down the numbers he ends up finding. Steve drops his head into his hands, exhausted. 

Robin rolls her eyes. “I’m not blaming your sister, she’s an angel, but is calling Eddie’s friends really an emergency?”

“Correct!”

You drop your head onto the counter, defeated. Dustin is only making everything worse, like he normally does, and you’re tired. Steve stands next to you, allows a hand to fall onto the small of your back. Without thinking about it, he starts to rub soothing circles into your skin. 

“Want me to strangle him or you want to?” Steve asks Robin. 

“We could take turns.”

Not bothering to lift your head up, you leave your face smushed against the countertop as you speak. “Please don’t strangle him, my mom would be really sad and we can’t afford a funeral.”

“Can you just fill them in already, Y/N?” Dustin pokes your side.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asks, exasperated.

Finally raising your head, you look at Max and swallow down any remaining uncertainty. The sooner you explain everything to Steve and Robin, the sooner you can find Eddie and figure out what the hell is going on. With Max’s help, the two of you give them an abridged version. 

“The murder happened in Eddie’s trailer.” You begin. 

“And the body was Chrissy Cunningham.” Max finishes.

Steve’s eyes widen. “What, so the freak killed her?”

“Unconfirmed.” Dustin snaps from the computer. He’s almost done writing down all the numbers.

“Not exactly. There’s some… details that we’re hoping to figure out, first. Before we go to the police about Eddie.”

Robin doesn’t like the way you say this. “What details?”

“The lights flickered in my house, I-I could feel static.” Max says, eyes downcast. Nothing else needs to be said, Steve and Robin understand immediately.

Now quiet, Steve’s hand finds yours. If it’s really happening again, he’ll be damned if he lets you go anywhere out of his sight. He’s not losing you. Surprised by the affection, you look and Steve and find that he’s staring down at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, even after you both maliciously hurt one another the night before.

It’s almost too much for you, the honey in his eyes that are meant for only you to see. Jonathan’s words from last night burn your skin. 

Do you ever wonder if we’ve made a mistake?

Steve doesn’t know what’s been said. Neither does Nancy. How could you possibly tell them what he’s done? The line he almost crossed? After everything the four of you have been through together, the deep history that divides you, how can you settle the ruins that Jonathan left in his wake? 

You can’t. Not without hurting everyone in the process. 

You’re torn out of your thoughts when Dustin calls your name. He’s giving out instructions, ordering everyone to call Eddie’s friends. 

“Y/N, you’ll call out the numbers we need to dial and write down any leads we get. Max, Robin, you’ll be with me on the phones. We need to figure out where he is, if he has any specific hiding places. Steve, you can bat your eyelashes at customers or whatever.”

Steve makes a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and you squeeze his hand. “You heard the kid,” you lean against his chest, allow yourself to smile up at him. “Go bat your eyelashes, handsome.”

He laughs, and because he loves you, because he will always love you, Steve kisses the corner of your mouth, right where your smile line forms. It’s a quick, chaste kiss. Enough to remind you that he’s still yours, yet mindful of the fact that things may not be as easy as they once were between you. “Aye aye, angel.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you with such a rush of love for him within your bones. Later, when there’s time, you and Steve will talk, and he’ll still be yours and you’ll still be his. 

Everyone gets to work after that. Max, Robin, and Dustin spread out around the store and begin dialing the numbers that you read off from the list. Their conversations are short, all filled with the same set of questions. There’s at least eight people to get through, but dividing them up helps. 

Robin shouts at you to write down some kid named David who has a vacation home in Tennessee. Dustin tells you to cross off one of the phone numbers ending in 5823, apparently the guy and Eddie no longer talk.

Max, who stands the closest to you at the counter, hangs up the phone and turns to you. “I think I might have a lead.”

“Seriously?” Dustin spins around in his chair and Robin sets down her phone.

“Yeah, apparently Eddie gets his drugs from some guy named Reefer Rick–”

“Wait, Eddie actually sells drugs?” You thought that had only been a rumor, a stereotype from people who didn’t know any better. Why the fuck is a drug dealer hanging out with your fourteen year old brother? Alarmed, you grab Dustin’s arm and force him to look at you. “He hasn’t offered you any, right? I swear to God, I will stab his boney little body if he’s offered so much as even a whiff to you–”

Dustin rips his arm out of your grasp. “Can you not freak out for more than five seconds? Holy shit, no! He hasn’t offered me anything, he isn’t irresponsible with his business, he only sells to seniors.”

“So you knew he was a drug dealer?” You’re so going to kill Munson. 

“Guys!” Max claps her hands, breaking up yet another fight between you and Dustin. “The drugs aren’t important right now, what we should be focusing on is the fact that Eddie sometimes crashes at Reefer Rick’s.”

Robin pats your shoulder and nods at Max’s words. “Okay, that sounds promising. Where does this Reefer Rick guy live?”

“That’s the thing. No one knows. He’s more of a… a legend than someone people actually know.”

“Well that doesn’t sound suspicious at all.” You mumble under your breath, but Dustin hears you anyway and elbows your ribs. 

Ignoring your pained cry, he looks at Max. “What about a last name?” 

“I don’t know that either.”

“Bet the cops know a last name.” Steve says, back turned to you guys as he organizes some tapes. Max asks him what he means and he finally walks over. “I mean, listen, if this Reefer Rick is actually a drug dealer, I guarantee you he’s been busted at some point. Means he’s in the system.”

Dustin throws his head back in annoyance. “The cops? That’s your suggestion?”

“I mean, at this point I think they should be filled in on what we know, what’s going on.” Steve defends himself, and honestly a part of you agrees with him. 

Technically speaking, this is a lot to hide from the police. If this had been happening last year, you would’ve been the first to suggest telling Hawkins police about everything. But last year Hopper was alive, this year he’s dead. He’s gone, and the new chief wouldn’t understand or even bother listening to what you’d have to say. 

Hopper would’ve believed you. He always believed you. 

“The police won’t help,” you say, and Dustin is surprised you’re agreeing with him for once. “At least, not like they used to.”

“You think Eddie is guilty, don’t you?” Your brother accuses Steve, and a fight breaks out between them. 

Steve brings up some weak point about believing in everyone being innocent until proven guilty. “I just, you know. I don’t think we can rule it out.”

“That’s precisely what we’re trying to do here, Steve.” Max points out, annoyed by all of this. 

Dustin nods. “And maybe we’d have a little bit more luck if you spent less time ogling my sister and more time trying to find Eddie.”

You flick the kid’s head and Steve waves his arms out, defensive. “I wasn’t ogling her, and even if I did, I have every right to as her boyfriend! Besides, someone has to attend to the customers.”

“And by customers, you mean Y/N.” Robin teases, knowing she’s right.

“I’m right here, you know.” You don’t like this conversation, you don’t even know how everyone ended up here in the first place. 

“Sue me for trying to find a movie for my girlfriend, alright? We’ve got a very big selection in here. It can be super overwhelming, even if I’ve worked here for almost a year.”

You tilt your head at Steve. “You were trying to find a movie for me?”

He blushes, suddenly shy. “I mean, yeah. Figured we could… watch something later?”

“I’d like that,” you tell him shyly. Things will be okay between you, they have to be. 

Meanwhile, Robin types frantically on the computer, and Max asking her what she’s doing catches your attention. You walk over, lean down to stare at the screen in front of you. “Maybe we don’t need a last name,” Robin explains, pulling up the store’s video rental catalog. 

A list of Ricks pop up, and you quickly realize what she’s doing. “Oh, you’re a genius, Buckley.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, pretty girl.” Robin smirks, showing everyone else the screen. “There’s twelve Ricks who have accounts here.”

“That’s a lot of Ricks,” Max remarks. 

Robin nods, she expected this. “So, let’s narrow it down.” She clicks on the first Rick’s name and his movie rental history appears. “Rick Alderman’s latest rentals are Annie and Dumbo.”

“I doubt a drug deal would rent sensible children’s movies.” You say, and everyone agrees.

“Alright, Rick Conroy. Sixteen Candles, Teen Wolf, and Romancing the Stone.” In unison everyone says “no”, and Robin moves down the list. “Okay, Rick Joiner. Mask, Footloose, and Grease.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Grease, I like this Rick’s taste in movies.”

Dustin snorts. “But he isn’t the Rick we need.” 

Finally, Robin lands on a Rick Lipton, who has rented three Cheech & Chong movies over the course of a week, and immediately you all know that you’ve found the right Rick. Robin looks up the address and Dustin observes that it’s out by Lovers Lake.

Lovers Lake. Where you and Steve finally got together. 

As if thinking what you are, Steve’s hand finds the small of your back, where it permanently resides, and he shares a shy look with you. There’s fondness in his eyes, the memory from that night doesn’t burn him. The tension of your fight lingers, you both can feel it, but the memory of that July night causes you both to smile.

And it’s enough. 

– 

Steve is the one who drives, he’s always somehow the designated driver, and everyone crams into his car. You sit in the passenger seat, he doesn’t let anyone else sit there when you’re with him, and Robin complains from the backseat. 

“One of these days I’m going to sit up front and no one will stop me.” 

“You sat in the passenger seat yesterday morning, Robin.” You remind her, smirking when you see how squished she is between Max and Dustin.

“Minor details. Please drive quickly, Harrington. I think Dustin’s elbow is lodged between my third and fourth rib.”

Lovers Lake is far. The house is in the middle of nowhere, the perfect place to hide, so by the time you arrive there it’s dark. Steve keeps a few flashlights in his trunk, a precaution he’s adopted since befriending you and Dustin. He hands them out to everyone with the warning to stay close. 

“I don’t want anyone slipping away, you hear me?”

“Okay, dad.” Robin shoves past him, causing Max to giggle, and you pat his chest in pity. 

Dustin rings the doorbell, figuring if Eddie is really here then he’d want to see a familiar face. When no one answers, he starts to repeatedly hit the doorbell over and over again. 

“Guess he’s not here,” Steve says after Dustin rings the bell for the hundredth time, but the kid ignores him and starts to pound on the door instead, now yelling. 

“Eddie! It’s Dustin!”

Still no one answers, and you begin to think that maybe you’ve gotten it all wrong. There’s the woods, the abandoned Hawkins Lab, and a million other places to hide. Reefer Rick’s house may have been too far for Eddie to run off to. 

Dustin calls through the door about how it’s just him and that there aren’t any cops. Robin tries to get a look inside the house through the window while you shine your light around the house. Max seems to get the same idea and the two of you wander over towards the side, trying to find another way in. 

Only you don’t find another way in. Instead, you find an old boathouse down by the water’s edge. It’s huge, masked by the trees and house in front of it. Eddie has to be hiding out in there, then. 

“Hey, guys?” Max gets everyone’s attention and points towards the boathouse. 

Dustin is the first to start walking down, Robin and Max not far behind, and you stand back with Steve. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go into the creepy abandoned boathouse. Yay.”

“We’ve done worse, angel.”

You sigh. “It’s really depressing that you’re right.”

Slowly the five of you approach the building, there isn’t any sign of life. The door is unlocked, which is both a good and bad sign. Robin pokes her head in cautiously, calls out into the darkness. “Hello? Is anyone home?”

Steve walks behind you, guiding you gently with his hands. Everyone spreads out, Steve grabs an oar that he finds hanging on the wall. He shows it to you, raising his eyebrows as he silently asks if it could be of any use, and you nod. Following his lead, you flick your knives out, eyes catching on a boat with a tarp draped over it. 

Wary, you point it out to Steve, and he understands. Raising his oar, he brings it down onto the boat with force, stabbing at the tarp. Luckily he doesn’t catch on anything, or anyone, but Dustin yells at him. 

“What are you doing?” Then, seeing the glint of your knives, Dustin scoffs at you. “Seriously, you really think those little elbow stabbers are gonna help?

You raise them at him. “I stabbed Billy with them, don’t forget.” 

Besides, like hell you’re taking any chances this time. Even if Steve’s oar isn’t the most ideal weapon, it’s still a weapon. You’re in an abandoned building with a killer on the loose. Neither one of you is willing to risk being defenseless, not after everything you’ve been through together. 

“He might be in here,” Steve continues to stab at the tarp, and even you have to admit it’s overkill. 

“Just take the tarp off!” Dustin says through clenched teeth. Steve tells him to take the tarp of himself and again they spiral into an argument. You watch with slight amusement. Some things never change. 

Robin and Max find something over by the table, alerting you that Eddie may have been in here. Dustin waves an arm out in front of Steve, who’s still jabbing his oar into the boat’s tarp. “Don’t worry, Steve will get him with his oar.”

“I know you’re being funny, little Henderson, but considering the fact that everyone in this room has nearly died a hundred times, personally, I don’t find it funny in the slight–” A figure jumps out from behind Steve and grabs him. “Wait, wait, wait!”

“Steve!” You scream, extending your knives, following after them. The person shoves Steve into the wall, holds a broken glass bottle to his neck. Pressing yourself behind them, you bring your knife to the perpetrator’s face, digging its tip into his cheek. A mess of curly hair touches your face, the scent of leather infiltrates your nose. It’s Eddie. 

“Eddie! Stop!” Dustin exclaims, struggling against Robin’s hold. To your relief, she isn’t letting him get any closer, which you’re thankful for. “It’s me. It’s Dustin. This is Steve, and the girl with a knife fixation is my sister Y/N. She’s not gonna hurt you, right, Y/N?”

“Let go of him,” you sneer into Eddie’s ear, pressing your knife deeper into his face. The blade nicks the crest of his cheekbone, blood drips down, but you don’t ease the pressure. He has Steve in a chokehold, he could slice his neck any second.

Steve sees that you’ve cut Eddie and he knows you’re seconds away from gutting the guy, which would only escalate the situation. He needs you to be safe, he’s afraid that Eddie will turn the glass bottle towards you instead. “Y/N, angel. Look at me, I’m okay. Drop the knife, and I’ll drop my oar, alright?”

You hesitate, and Dustin screams at you to do as you’re told. Your eyes flicker between Steve and Eddie, lingering on the bottle that is pressed even deeper into your boyfriend’s neck now. A thud echoes in the room, Steve drops his oar. He looks at you again, his eyes pleading, and you reluctantly flick your wrist to put the blades away. 

The moment your knives are gone, Steve lets out a pained groan. Eddie only tightens his hold on him and the glass cuts his skin. In a heartbeat your hand fists through Eddie’s long hair and you pull. Hard. He sucks in a breath, clenches his teeth, and finally looks at you. “Cut him, and I will kill you.”

“She’s cool! I promise she’s cool!” Dustin shouts from across the room, doing everything he possibly can not to get both Eddie and Steve killed. He doesn’t worry about you, he knows you can handle yourself. He’s more concerned that you’re about to have blood all over your hands. 

“If you let me go,” Steve chokes out, careful not to move his mouth too much and cut his throat. “Y/N will be cool.”

Eddie doesn’t ease up, and neither do you. Despite the awkward angle of his head, he leers down at Steve. “What are you guys doing here?”

“We’re looking for you,” Dustin tells him, taking a cautious step forward.

Robin now speaks up. “We’re here to help.”

“Eddie, these are my friends. You know Robin, from band.” She pretends to play the trumpet to ease the tension, but it doesn’t work. “This is my friend Max, the one who never wants to play DnD. And you know Y/N, she used to hang out with Jonathan Byers all the time and I always talk about her.”

“I know all about Hawkins’ sweetheart.” Eddie sneers, flinching only slightly when you pull his hair even more. “She isn’t so sweet now.”

Your other hand reaches towards your back pocket, towards your knives, and Dustin’s heart skips a beat. He needs to resolve this. Now. “Eddie, we’re on your side. I swear on my mother. Right, guys?”

Robin and Max both swear, and Steve chokes out, “Yes, we swear on Mrs. Henderson. She-she’s great. You’d love her.”

Eddie doesn’t respond. Seconds pass, although they feel like hours. His neck must ache from the way you pull against it, and you see him staring down at you from the corner of his eyes. A crazed smile of interest crosses his face, his gaze lingers on your figure, blood drips down from his cut. You watch his every move, and when Eddie finally releases Steve, you throw him aside. 

“Are you okay?” Your fingers ghost over Steve’s neck, checking for any sign of injury. He’s panting heavily, finally able to breathe again now that there isn’t a sharp edge grazing his neck. Your touch is gentle, your hands shake, and you hardly even register that Robin is next to you. 

“I’m okay,” he breathes out, rubbing his neck. His shaking hands find yours, steadying them with your interlocked fingers. Mindful of the fact that Robin is present, he kisses the backs of your hands. “I’m all fine, angel. I promise.”

You want to carry him away, out of this town, away from anything that can harm him. You want to tuck him somewhere far away, where no one will ever find him again, alone with only you, safe and sound. 

But you can’t. Instead, all you can do is sit next to Steve, caressing his hair as your body slowly attunes to his again.

Eddie is crying a few feet away, his threatening persona long gone. His entire body shakes, his eyes are dark with haunted memories. Dustin crouches down next to him, and Robin joins. Softly, as if talking to an injured animal she doesn’t want to scare away, she tells him, “We want to know what happened.”

“You won’t believe me.” Eddie sniffs, sounding completely and utterly broken. Something horrible happened to him last night, something that will haunt him forever. The way he holds himself, how small he tries to become, how he shakes violently. They’re all signs of trauma, not guilt or remorse. He didn’t kill Chrissy.

Taking pity on Eddie, you reach out and rest a hand on his shoulder. He’s startled by your touch, only moments ago you held a knife to his face, and now your hand warms his body. “We’ll believe you,” you whisper.

He tells you everything. The details are gruesome, bloody and terrifying. 

“Her body, it just… lifted into the air and,” Eddie’s voice breaks as he cries again, and a part of you wants to tell him that he can stop, clearly he’s in pain. “And she just, she hung there. In the air. And her bones, they-they–” He stumbles over his words, but he clenches his fists and forces the rest out. “Her bones started to snap.”

Your heart stops. You can’t imagine how horrifying that must’ve been to see. The image of Billy’s body pierced by the Mind Flayer is still burned into your retinas. The same will be true for Eddie with Chrissy’s body. 

“And her eyes,” he shakes his head, he tries to get the memories away from him. “It.. it was like there was something inside her head, pulling.” 

Eddie describes the sound of Chrissy’s bones snapping, the squelching pop when her eyes exploded. “I-I didn’t know what to do so I-I… I ran away.” He stares at the ground, you see his fists tighten, he’s angry with himself. Ashamed. “I left her there.”

“There wasn’t anything you could do, Eddie.” You tell him. Anyone would’ve ran away. He’s human for being afraid, and you hope that he hears you through all the unnecessary shame. You know, better than anyone, how hard it is to hear anything over the roaring rush of guilt that floods someone’s mind. 

Eddie ignores you. “You all think I’m crazy, right?”

“No, we don’t think you’re crazy.” Dustin’s voice is gentle, softer than you’ve ever heard it. Eddie yells at him, he thinks you’re all playing some cruel trick on him. He’s stuck in a state of flight, panicked and ready to flee, and Dustin lowers his voice even more. “Look, what I’m about to tell you might be a little… Difficult to take.”

You sit next to your brother, everyone else stands behind the two of you as you face Eddie. Dropping your voice to its own soothing, comforting lilt, you lean in closer to the scared teen and offer whatever solace you can give him. “It’ll be difficult, but I’ll be right here, okay?”

Eddie stares at you, his hardened expression softening little by little. “Okay.”

Dustin takes a deep breath. “You know how people say Hawkins is cursed? They’re not… way off.”

“There’s another world, hidden beneath hawkins. And sometimes it… bleeds into ours.” You reveal, careful to make your words as clear and concise as possible. Even after all these years, it still feels impossible to explain it all. 

Dustin continues, beginning to explain the monsters that haunt Hawkins from the Upside Down. How you all thought they were gone, but that they somehow come back again and again. As your brother talks, memories flash before you. Billy’s death, Will’s disappearance, the darkness that infiltrated his tiny body. El, her powers. The Demogorgon, its cruelness and its tunnels.

Steve walks up behind you, your body falls against his, he draws you in. 

“They’ve come back before, that’s why we needed to find you.” Dustin explains to Eddie. 

Max steps forward as well. “If they’re back again, we need to know.” 

Robin asks Eddie if he saw anything that night, Max asks if he saw any dark particles. Any indicators that you’ve come to learn that signal the Upside Down, but Eddie can only shake his head. Dustin presses him further, describes what the particles would look like, but it’s no use.

“No, man. There was nothing you could see, or-or touch.” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but his words catch your attention.

“Was there…” You swallow, your mouth has gone dry. “Did you feel static in the air? Like an electric pull, almost as if lightning was about to strike?”

Describing the sensation is easy, it’s the same feeling you’ve come to associate with El. Her powers, they have a magnetic pull to them. It’s hard to miss, easy to feel. 

Eddie stares at you, and slowly, with hesitancy, he nods.

You fall back against Steve’s chest. Everyone else goes silent as the realization settles upon the room. It’s happening again. The dread crawls over your neck, settles into your throat. It will never end. 

“She couldn't move. It was like she was-she was in a trance or something.” Eddie says, unaware of the despair surrounding everyone. 

Dustin looks at you, his eyes reflect the grief that you feel. “Or under a spell.”

“Like El.”

He nods, before Eddie adds, “Or a curse.”

“Vecna’s curse.” Dustin says, eyes now on Eddie, and a cold chill creeps down your spine.

Steve asks who Vecna is, and upon hearing the name again, a pang rips through your head. Dustin explains who Vecna is, a character in Eddie’s DnD campaign, but you don’t hear any of it. You gasp in pain, the beginning stages of a migraine darken your vision and twist your stomach. Max notices, her eyes trail up your body and linger on the hand pressed against your head. 

Lost in the pressure building within your skull, you don’t see the way Max almost seems to know what’s happening. 

She doesn’t say anything.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Its actually killing me that I can't put Anthems For A Seventeen-Year-Old Girl in Where You Lead. That song is sooo Y/n

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Bennie and the Jets

“Y/n” he says with that tone. The same tone he used to tell you that your family dog Tammy had been hit by a car. The same tone he used when your mother died.

“Dad, what's wrong?”

He pulls you to sit with him on the plastic chairs. 

“I got a call from the police. Benny, he…he was found dead this morning”

Your hand flies to your face. Your dad’s hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you try to catch your breath. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten 

Over and over you count to ten until you find your voice again, “What happened?”

Previous Part

summary: Y/n's day goes from bad to worse as she suffers caffeine withdrawals, finds out her boss is dead, and almost gets into a car accident.

Words: 3k

Warnings: Newby!reader, death, mentions of suicide, brief mention of dead dog, swearing, ANGST, reader ignoring her emotions™

Sleep has a firm grip on you in the early morning. After last night, you got home to find your dad already asleep. You hadn’t taken your uniform off before you crashed onto your bed. You dreamt of milkshakes and volleyballs and little girls with tattoos. The alarm wakes you violently, and violently you react. You smash the thing until it stops beeping, groaning when you hear it five minutes later. You shoot up and rip the chord from the wall, effectively silencing the machine. Already up, you figure that you might as well get ready for the day.

You go to make your pot of coffee, reaching for the jar where you keep the grinds. “Fuck” you softly whisper. In the chaos of yesterday, you forgot to get more coffee. You glance at your watch.

Fuck. 

There's not enough time to run to the store to get more coffee before practice. You leave a note for your dad and grab the last can of coke from the fridge, hoping it gives you enough energy to make it through the day.

The ride to school is quiet. The sun hasn’t quite risen, casting the town of Hawkins in an eerie gray light. The leaves are just starting to fall, some of them already barren. The heat in your truck hasn’t worked since last year and you can see your breath as you drive. The cold this morning is extra bitter. Sleep lingers in your eyes as you make the winding drive, forgoing the cassette to listen to the radio. You park as the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Standing outside your car, you let the light wash over your closed eyes for a minute, taking in the stillness. 

You’ve always preferred sunrises to sunsets. There’s something about the world coming out of darkness that calls to you. Everything is a little less hopeless in the daylight.

You feel someone’s eyes on you. Your gaze darts across the parking lot before landing on none other than Steve Harrington. He stares at you from a few cars down quizzically. You’re too tired to dignify his staring in any meaningful way, offering the smallest tilt of your lip in acknowledgement. You turn back to the sun, ignoring the way he continues to stare at you. 

You let yourself enjoy the last few seconds of sunrise before you go inside. 

––––

It turns out the coke was not enough to get you through the day. It’s fourth period when you feel your eyelids drooping. The pre-calc lesson is not nearly intriguing enough to warrant you staying awake. You’re roused from your almost-slumber by a gentle tap on your shoulder. Carol, a folded paper in her hand, gestures for you to pass the note to Hannah, who sits in front of you. The paper moves along, and for a minute you wonder if Carol even knows your name. 

She’s part of the popular crowd and you tell yourself that it doesn’t matter what she thinks of you. Then the thought hits you: does she even think of you at all. Do any of the popular kids even think about anyone but themselves? Are they so wrapped up in their own bubble that they can even perceive their peers?

As it turns out, normal kids can be perceived by the holier-than-thou popular kids. Next to your locker, Carol congregates with Tommy, Steve, and Nancy, who has seemingly joined their crew through her connection to Steve. It's hard not to overhear them as they gossip about Jonathan Byers.

The parking lot incident had long since been forgotten as you listen to Steve and Tommy joke about Will.

“I bet he killed him”

Their crude speculation brings a scowl to your face. How dare they speak about Jonathan like that when he’s clearly trying to find his brother. Anger pools in your stomach and you pull out your books faster, eager to avoid listening to this bullshit. Suddenly Nancy’s gentle voice pipes up, “Should we say something?”

You’re suddenly grateful that you’re facing your locker, as you’re sure the shock from hearing her defend him is written all over your face. You peak over your shoulder to see her approach Jonathan. You can’t hear the short discussion, but Jonathan purses his lips and nods at her. She walks back and you and Jonathan make eye contact. 

It’s heartbreaking how terrible he looks. He’s even more disheveled than normal, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and sunken in. You give him a small nod and a look that you hope he reads as “I’m sorry and good luck”

He leaves. 

–––

Fifth period is just as brutal as the last. You had just nodded off for the third time when the secretary opens the classroom door. All eyes turn to her as she calls for you to join her in the hallway. 

The walk to the office is silent as you run through every scenario of why you would possibly be called up. The secretary opens the door for you to see your dad waiting for you. 

“Y/n” he says with that tone. The same tone he used to tell you that your family dog Tammy had been hit by a car. The same tone he used when your mother died.

“Dad, what's wrong?”

He pulls you to sit with him on the plastic chairs. 

“I got a call from the police. Benny, he…he was found dead this morning”

Your hand flies to your face. Your dad’s hand rubs comforting circles on your back as you try to catch your breath. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten 

Over and over you count to ten until you find your voice again, “what happened?”

“Buddy, I don’t think-”

“Dad, what happened”

“He shot himself”

“Oh”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten 

One, two, three, fo–

“Buddy, the police want to talk to you, ask you a couple questions about Benny. I’m gonna take you down to the station. When we’re done we can go home.”

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten 

“Ok”

You walk to your locker to collect your things in a daze. It continues all the way to the station and your dad has to stop you from walking into a wall. If you weren’t in such a state of shock, you probably would’ve laughed. 

An officer whose name you immediately forget takes down your information and you lose count of how many sets of ten you’ve collected. Finally, Chief Hopper sits in front of you and introduces himself. 

“Jim Hopper”

“Y/n Newby”

“y/n, you were the last person to see Benny. Did you notice anything odd about his behavior?”

“Um, no he seemed fine–normal. But, I wasn’t the last person.”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a little kid that broke in last night, a runaway.”

“We heard about the kid, did you get a good look? Did he look like this?”

He produces a missing kid poster, Will’s picture on the front. The nausea returns to your body.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

“No, uh, that's Will Byers. I know Will and I didn’t recognize this kid. We called social services. They were supposed to come this morning.”

“So there’s a chance this kid’s running around too?”

The thought of the little girl from yesterday being on her own again terrifies you. You count two more sets of ten before another officer pipes up, clearly not reading the room, “Huh chief, what’re the chances of two missing kid cases in the same 24 hours–in Hawkins!”

You see a spark of connection flash on the chief’s face, a look you can understand. You’re pretty sure you’ve connected the same dots he has: Will, the little girl, and Benny’s death are all intertwined. 

–––

The bedroom feels tiny yet giant all at once. The popcorn ceiling seems to dance in front of you–probably because you’ve been staring at it for the past few hours. No matter how you try and put the pieces together, none of them fit. Any way you looked at it, it didn’t make sense. The big question underlying everything was Why? 

After what felt like another hour of staring at the ceiling, you had a horrible realization. You never got the coffee. Laughter bubbles out of you uncontrollably. You trap the laughter behind your hands, horrified at the humor of the situation–and at yourself for getting lost in it. God, what a mess this whole day has turned out to be. 

Turning over, your clock displays the time– 4:52 pm. Your dad is still at work. He had stayed with you for an hour before going back, letting you know he’d be back later than normal. He had to be at the store to meet with someone or receive a shipment or something–honestly, you weren’t really listening. You didn’t protest, just gave him a hug and told him you were fine. 

You grab your bag and head outside but your truck is nowhere to be found. That's right, you remember, dad drove you home, which means your truck is still at the high school. As you contemplate how long the walk to the school is going to take, Mrs. Henderson leaves her door, calling out your name before walking over, a sad smile on her face. Clearly, news travels fast.

“Oh, Y/n, I was just coming over to check on you. How’re you holding up? Your dad told me what happened.”

You glance down at your converse and shift from foot to foot. “Um I’m ok, all things considered. I was about to head to the store.”

“Why don’t you let me drive you? I’ve been meaning to pick up a few things too,” she’s clearly trying to be subtle but you doubt she’s going to let you go alone.

“Uh sure,” you answer, not wanting to be rude.

Sitting in her car isn’t as uncomfortable as you thought it’d be. Mrs. Henderson pointedly doesn’t ask about Benny, but does make small talk. 

“How’s volleyball going? Your dad was telling me you made varsity this year? Congratulations!”

“Oh yeah, its pretty good. Coach has us doing morning practices every other day. Getting ready for the first game in a few weeks.”

“Ooh are you excited? It must be nerve wracking to be so close to game day”

You shrug your shoulders.

“I guess, but I’m not that worried. Our first game is against Cuark High, and they're not that intimidating.”

Mrs Henderson hummed in acknowledgement. The radio played a beach boys song so softly the words were incomprehensible. She tended to listen to older music, you noticed. Soft tunes that crooned of love and hope were always the soundtrack of the Henderson home. You appreciated the way Ms. Henderson emphasized comfort throughout her life. 

When the Hendersons first moved in next to you, your father had insisted that you offer your help. After a full day of unloading furniture and unpacking boxes, Mrs. Henderson had cooked you a hearty meal. Dustin was just 9 years old and had stared at you with wide eyes as you ate. As you helped Mrs. Henderson clean the dishes, she’d told you that if you ever needed a woman to talk to, she was just a short walk away. 

The woman rambles gently about some mischief her cat got up to while you stare at the radio. It's a horrifyingly familiar piano riff. If there was ever a song you didn’t want to hear, it's this. Elton John’s unintelligible singing continues as it draws nearer to the chorus. You try to will the radio to combust as your hands ball into tighter and tighter fists. 

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Over and over you count until all you can focus on is the song in your ears and the numbers in your head.

“...Y/n? What's wrong?” Ms. Henderson's voice cuts through the ringing of ears and the song, which seems impossibly loud. 

“B-B-B-Bennie and the jets” Elton John's voice sings emphatically.

“Oh god!” Ms Henderson exclaims, quickly switching off the radio, “I’m so sorry sweetie, I didn’t even hear the song playing.”

The silence from the radio is welcome, but the ringing in your ears remains. 

As you pulled into the parking lot, you came out of your daze. 

“Y/n, sweetie, would you mind grabbing a cart?”

You silently grabbed a shopping cart from the line up, falling into step with her. 

“What's on your list?” Mrs. Henderson asked, pulling out a written list from her bag. 

“Uh, just coffee”

“Oh, thats it?” You shrugged. Your father had never been the shopping list type, preferring to just pick up whatever he needed on the way home. It was a trait you’d picked up as well. 

“Well, we can get that first then we’ll tackle my list.”

You trailed behind your neighbor with the cart, occasionally throwing in groceries that looked interesting or you figured you’d be running out of soon. A pack of coke, a bag of chips, and a carton of eggs soon joined your coffee grinds in the cart, surrounded by Mrs. Henderson’s haul. 

It was dark by the time you got out of the store, and you pulled your sweater arms up on your hands to protect them from the chilly air.

Her car warms you up quickly and you are reminded of your own car, “Mrs. Henderson,” you begin, “could you stop by the high school? My truck is still parked there.”

“Of course sweetie, don’t want you walking so early in the morning tomorrow!”

The drive to the school is fairly quiet until a thought pops into your head, “How’s Dustin holding up with the whole Will thing?”

A sad look crosses Mrs. Henderson’s face, “Honestly, I don’t know. He seems to be perfectly unaffected. I don’t know if he’s really optimistic or just putting on a brave face…he’s always been a resilient kid, but I can’t imagine how it’ll affect him if Will…” she shakes the worried look off her face, “I hope they find him soon.”

“Yeah, me too.”

She pulls her car next to yours and turns to face you. “Y/n, I know that you probably don’t want to talk about Benny right now. But I want you to know I’m here for you. If you need a shoulder, or another girls’ night, I’m just a walk away.”

“Oh,” you aren’t sure how to respond, “Thank you…I’ll keep that in mind.”

She pursed her lips, an emotion crossing her face that you couldn’t quite read.

“Anyways, thanks for the ride…it was nice. And make sure Dustin helps you carry in the groceries. I know you’ll probably try and make it in one trip.”

“Dustin’s actually at the Wheelers tonight, though he should be getting soon I suppose.” she replies, seemingly realizing the time

Driving your truck home, you immediately missed the warmth that Mrs. Henderson’s car offered. Alone with your thoughts, your mind began to wander as you drove. Considering all the odd things going on in town, you tried to piece them all together. Maybe Eleven and Will met and were on the run together, but why would Will run away? And on that note, Why had Eleven run? Did social services ever pick her up? How long after they showed up did Benny shoot himself? Did he even wait for it? Did Eleven have to witness it? 

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn’t see the other car parked on the side of the road. You have to use your whole body to turn the wheel enough to avoid hitting the car. Huh. It looks slightly familiar. Then it hits you. This is Jonathan’s car. You pull in front of it, hopping out the truck. Looking around, you see the caution tape and a pit grows in your stomach. 

“Jonathan!” you call out, trying no to let your voice quiver. “Jonathan! Where are you?”

Silence. 

You take a deep breath before breaching the treeline, still yelling his name. The empty branches shine silver in the moonlight. Leaves crunch beneath your feet as you carefully step through the woods. You stop for a minute to listen for any sort of response before continuing the trek. 

“Y/n?”

You whip around, Jonathan standing behind you, camera in hand

“What are you doing here?”

“Me? What are you doing here?” 

He stumbled over his words for a few seconds before clearing his throat, “I was trying to find evidence”

“Evidence of what?”

“I don't know, whatever I could find.”

“Jesus christ. Well, did you find anything?”

“Not really.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah me too…I heard about Benny.”

You purse your lips and look away. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering. 

“Are you cold?” Jonathan asks, already tugging off his coat.

“Oh I’m fine, besides, now you’re gonna be cold” you shake your head in protest as he tries to hand you the coat. 

“I’ll be fine, besides I run hot.”

You hum in consideration. You are really cold and his jacket looks really warm compared to your hoodie. 

“Thanks”

You warm up almost instantly, pulling the coat further around yourself. 

You walk back to your cars in solemn silence. 

“Jonathan,” you say as you reach the edge of the woods, “I am really sorry about Will. He’s a good kid.”

Jonathan turns to you, eyes shining in the moonlight. He lets out a defeated sigh.

“Yeah he is…I need him to be okay.”

“He will be.” you rest a comforting hand on his shoulder and the boy surprises you with a bear hug. You hear him sniffle into your shoulder. 

It's a weird sensation, all in all, as Jonathan holds onto you. You’re not quite sure where to put your hands, and you struggle to support the sudden weight. 

“It’ll be ok, you’re ok”  you whisper to him, comforting him in his crisis. 

His breathing evens out and he steps away, pink faced. “Sorry about that.”

“It's okay, Jonathan. Sometimes you just need to let it out.”

He chuckles wetly, wiping his face. 

“See you at school tomorrow.”

You wave from your window, “See ya!”

Next Chapter

Tags:

@ucannotcompare

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Posting chapter two of Where You Lead tomorrow!

[roping-riding-wrangling]

"So all cholesterol is good. Change is absolutely necessary. And whatever you said about hot lady summer, it sounded like you kind of had it figured out."

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Vecna is a mean girl

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Rapture

Where You Lead Masterlist

“Dad?” You call out when you enter the house. You can hear the radio playing from somewhere, so you follow it to the laundry room where your dad is folding towels. “Hey buddy. How was work?” he asked, setting down the last of the towels. 

“It was good,” you began, “there was a weird power outage, but that’s it.”

You quickly duck into room to change into sweats and a t-shirt, returning to your dad still talking,  “…wonder if it hit the whole town. Maybe it's from the lab?” 

“What could they be doing that would cause a town-wide blackout?” you ponder aloud.

You migrate to the kitchen, and he brings the radio with him. 

“I don’t know, ” he answers, then pauses and continues, “Maybe they’re testing windmill power?” 

You furrow your brow at that, “Does Hawkins even have windmills?”

“Thats probably why it didn’t work then,” he giggles, clearly pleased at his joke.

Summary: Y/n Newby works the closing shift at Benny's Burgers, accidentally gives someone a nosebleed, and meets a really weird kid

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Newby!reader, Blood, Minors smoking, Trashy romance novels, not proofread

Anastasia gripped Robert’s biceps, taking note of how firm and large they were under her petite hands. They stood at the cliff’s edge, surrounded by the British navy. “Oh Robert, what are we going to do?”

“Don’t worry my love, as long as we are together we can survive anything.”

With that, the pirate dipped her low and kis-

A large hand grabs the book from you, interrupting the passionate scene.

“A Pirate’s Love…really? What was it last week, A Ride to Remember? I think you might need an intervention at this point”

Looking up, you see Jonathan Byers grabbing the book to read the summary on the back.

“It was not A Ride to Remember,” you say, grabbing the book back from the boy, “It was Big Sky Country and it was very tasteful, thank you! God, you make it sound like all I read is bodice ripping filth.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrow, pointedly looking at the cover of your book, which features a woman’s bodice literally being ripped off her body by the handsome pirate. 

“Ok this is a bad example,” you defend, slightly pink in the face.

 “The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.” He says, smirking. 

“The only problem I have is you.” 

Benny’s Burgers had been dead since 9 pm, save for the boy who’d come in just before 10.  Normally, Jonathan would have gone straight home, but after working a double he needed a pick-me-up in the form of a cheeseburger – and your company. 

You sit behind the counter, book back in your hands, while Benny is in the back, getting ready to close the kitchen. 

Jonathan sits on the other side, fiddling with the radio at the counter, changing the station to find something more aligned with his taste, so you take the opportunity to examine his worn out face. 

He was clearly weary after work, the constant eyebags looking even heavier than normal. His 5 o'clock shadow looks like it had been there for at least a day and he has the distinct smell of old popcorn oil that tells you he’d been stuck at the concessions stand for at least 5 hours. 

You clear your throat looking pointedly at him, “What do you want?”

He looks at you sheepishly, seemingly having forgotten that he still needed to order, “uh, a number 3.”

You nod at him, then yell through the window at Benny, “Drag a cow through Wisconsin and marry it!”

“Just say it normally!” you hear him call back. 

You giggle back at his annoyed response to your insistence at using the old fashioned diner lingo.

Turning back to Jonathan you ask, “what do you want to drink?”

His eyes flick to the milkshake machine, then he looks up at you grinning, “what’s new?”

You lean over the counter at him, matching grin on your face, “working on something new for the holidays: hot chocolate milkshake”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, “how is it different from regular chocolate?”

You scoff, as if it's obvious, “it has marshmallows”

“That's it?” he laughs and you scoff again, “No! It also has a candy cane.”

Not 10 minutes later, Jonathan is chewing through his burger ferociously, only breaking to sip on his milkshake. Glancing at your watch, you look up at the boy, still working his way through his meal. Sighing, you speak, “Mind if I close around you?”

He grunts his approval, clearly more interested in his burger. 

Going through your closing tasks, you’re mopping the floor when the lights flicker, then go out. “Hey, Benny?” you call out in the darkness, careful not to slip on the wet floor. 

“Yeah, I know…let me check the generator.”

The darkness only lasts 30 more seconds and suddenly the lights return. 

Jonathan never stopped eating his food. At 10:30, you finally kick him out. 

“I put the closed sign out like 15 minutes ago!”, you say as you push him out of the diner. 

“You’re the best, you know that,” he laughs as you close the door behind him. 

“Yeah, you’re just saying that cause I didn’t make you pay”

You lock the door and turn to the kitchen. Grabbing your coat and bag, you exit through the back door. The cool air hits your legs. Your uniform isn’t very forgiving to the early November air, but its not unbearable. You hoof it to your truck, parked next to Benny’s. 

“Can I get one of those?” you nod at the cigarette carton he holds. He rolls his eyes then hands you the pack of reds. 

After lighting his own stick, he passes the lighter to you, “Don’t tell your dad”

“Obviously,” you don’t even look up, taking a drag of the cigarette. 

You lean against his truck, next to him. As you smoke in silence, you find yourself humming a familiar tune. Benny huffs out a laugh and catches on

“...B-B-B-Bennie and the jets!”, you sing out the piano accompaniment as well. 

The pair of you dissolve into laughter and Benny puts his arm around you, pulling you into a tight side hug. He ruffles your hair and says, “alright buddy, get home safe.”

“See you tomorrow”

 –––––

“Dad?” You call out when you enter the house. You can hear the radio playing from somewhere, so you follow it to the laundry room where your dad is folding towels. “Hey buddy, how was work?” he asks, setting down the last of the towels. 

“It was good,” you begin, “there was a weird power outage, but that’s it.”

You quickly duck into your room to change into sweats and a t-shirt, returning to your dad still talking,  “…wonder if it hit the whole town? Maybe it's from the lab?” 

“What could they be doing that would cause a town-wide blackout?” you ponder aloud.

You migrate to the kitchen, and he brings the radio with him. 

“I don’t know, ” he answers, then pauses and continues, “Maybe they’re testing windmill power?” 

You furrow your brow at that, “Does Hawkins even have windmills?”

“Thats probably why it didn’t work then,” he giggles, clearly pleased at his joke.

You roll your eyes and pull some leftovers from the fridge then stick them in the microwave. Listening to the radio, your dad hums along to the music, some old country song. 

The next song plays and you smile as your dad holds out his hands to twirl you around the kitchen. Your dad sings along to Carole King as you laugh through the dizziness he inflicts on you. 

He finally relents and lets you catch your breath when the microwave finishes. You grab your plate and give him a quick on the cheek. “Night dad!” you call out from your doorway. 

“Sweat dreams, buddy!” you softly grin at his reply.

–––––

The next morning comes far too early for you. The alarm blares angrily while you blindly throw your hand to shut it off. Trudging into the kitchen, you start on making coffee for you and your dad. You usually get up before him, meaning you take care of breakfast and morning chores. 

Putting the last of the grinds into the machine, you make a mental note to get more after school. The soft glow of the kitchen light allows you to read as you wait for the coffee to brew.

The hiss of the coffee machine rouses you from your book and you pull two mugs from the cabinet, before pouring half the pot into yours. You make two lunches, put one into the fridge and leave for early morning practice. 

––––––

At the school, you are one of the first to show up in the locker room. Its nice to have the peace that comes with just you and a quiet few others. You duck down to reach your lower level locker, incidentally becoming invisible as a group of three girls from the cheer team also walk in, conversing rather loudly for 6 am. 

“I totally saw them making out in the boys bathroom last week,” the blonde exclaims while putting on her top, “like have some decency.”

“Ew! I don’t even know what he sees in her, she’s a sophomore,” the other replies in a nasally voice, “and not even a cool one, all she does is study!”

“Do you think he’s using her to get better grades,” the third asks airily, “she is really smart.”

“Whatever,” the blonde counters, “he’ll probably move on in like 2 seconds when he realizes what a priss she is”

You roll your eyes at that and stand up, alerting them to your presence. Silently, you walk past them and onto the field to start your run. 

You put your walkman in to listen to a Blondie album. As you run, your mind begins to wander.

 You don’t know Nancy Wheeler well, as the two of you interact peripherally. You had shared a class once or twice, and you saw her in the hallways decently frequently. You know her brother hangs out with your next door neighbor, he and all his little friends bike around the block pretty frequently. She always seemed kind, saying hi when you crossed paths, but you didn’t actually know enough to determine if the blonde was right about her being a priss. 

However, you are sure they were right about Steve moving on in no time. Even you, who tries so desperately to keep your head down and away from the popular kids, knew about Steve Harringtion’s reputation. His intense popularity earned him the nickname  “King Steve''. You understand why, from a technical standpoint. He’s rich, good at sports, and is (in a completely objective way) attractive. 

Your mind continues to roam, and you briefly remembered the time you and Steve had partnered on a history project. It was right before you found out your mom had died

You shook that thought from your head and focused on running faster. In your ears, the nonsense rapping of Debbie Harry blared and you felt the sweat drip down your face, despite the November chill. The coach sounded the whistle and you ran towards the gym for your actual practice, tossing your walkman onto the bleachers inside. 

You’ve partnered with Anna for passing. The sting against your fingertips as you hit the volleyball feels good, like a physical reminder of how powerfully you are hitting the ball. The longer the drills go on, the more the thoughts from earlier creeping in.

Nancy, smiling and nodding at you in the halls.

Hit!

Steve sitting next to you in the library.

Smack!

Your mom’s funeral.

Thud!

You hear the coaches whistle before you realize you’ve hit the ball into the face of one of the JV girls. Blood gushes out of her nose onto the shiny gym floor. Her coach rushes her to the nurse while yours orders you to do 30 burpees and 3 laps.

The cold water of the locker room does nothing to ease the tension in your body. 

––––––

In 6th period English, Mrs. Fleming drones on about Of Mice and Men when you notice the seat behind you is empty. Jonathan’s seat. You glance up to make sure Mrs. Fleming isn’t looking before you pass a note to the girl next to you.

Do you know where Byers is?

It takes a moment but you receive the note back with new writing.

I heard something happened to his brother

Your mind runs wild at the thought of something bad happening to Will. It always warmed your heart to see the small boy with Jonathan, especially when the teen treats him to dinner at Benny’s. You make sure that he always gets extra whipped cream on his shakes as you hand them to him with a wink. 

The worry stays in your bones through the rest of the day. 

––––––

You begin your shift stressed, tying the small apron around your waist, finding it empty. 

“Benny, did you see where I put my pad?” you call out into the restaurant

“Uh, check the office,” his voice comes out from somewhere in the dining area. Earl and Henry are probably out there. 

It's right there on the desk. Of course it is.

You walk further into the building, so focused on putting your hair up that you almost collide with the small body hunched over the kitchen counters. 

“hey!”

A tiny face looks up at you, nearly feral with fear and begins to back up, right into Benny. He moves to grab the child, but it's faster and runs away, crashing into you. You instinctively wrap your arms around the small frame as it freezes. 

“Hey-hey,” you carefully lower yourself to eye-level trying to remain gentle without letting them go, “its ok…its ok” 

You’re finally able to get a good look. What you see angers you: A shaved head, bare feet, hospital gown and the kid is covered in dirt and grime. All signs point to some terrible reason for this child to be stealing fries from Benny’s. 

The kid seems to calm down, and doesn’t run when you move to only hold her hand. 

You look at Benny, unsure of where to go from here. 

“What d’you think about closing early?” he says, looking back at you with the same confusion. 

–––––

You’d helped the kid clean up and replace her hospital gown with an extra large t shirt from the restaurant. She’s so small that the shirt swallows her and your heart aches.

Benny has given her some food, which she scarfs down, even faster than Jonathan. You sit across from her, both you and Benny trying to get her to open up.

“Your parents forget to feed you?” Benny asks, “Is that why you ran away?”

The girl just keeps eating. 

“Were you hurt?” you question gently, “Why were you in the hospital?”

Still nothing

“You run away from the hospital?” Benny continues

At this the girl looks up briefly, then goes straight back to the burger. Frustrated, Benny pulls the burger away from her.

You smack her in the chest, scolding him “Hey man, you can’t just take food from a starving kid!”

“I’m not taking it away. She can have it back, and more, if she answers us. Maybe I'll throw in some ice cream too.” he looks back at the silent girl, “do we have a deal”

He takes her silence as agreement. 

“Ok, lets start with the easy stuff,” he begins, “I’m Benny. Benny Hammond.” he shows her how to shake hands. You hold out your hand and she gingerly takes it. You give her a smile, speaking softly, “I’m Y/n Newby. What's your name?” 

The girl looks confused and the silence remains. Benny glances down at her arm and your eyes follow his to a small marking–a tattoo of some kind. She yanks her arm back, but you catch the numbers before she hides them.

“Eleven? What does it mean? Can you tell us?” you ask

“No”, she says timidly.

Benny interjects, “Well I’ll be damned, she speaks.”

You send a glare his way, to which he rolls his eyes and addresses the girl, “‘no’ No, what?”

She goes back to holding her tongue. 

“Alright, fine. No more food then,” he gets up, taking the tray with him

You attempt to protest, but the child beats you to the punch, “Eleven”

You and Benny exchange glances before he sits back down and probes further, “yeah Eleven– what does that mean?”

She points at herself then repeats it, “Eleven.”

Benny returns the food to her and she chews voraciously. He leaves her with you while he calls social services from the kitchen. You stare at the little girl. She looks no older than 12. The color has returned to her cheeks since eating and she certainly looks better now that shes been mildly cleaned up. 

Eleven looks up at you through her eyelashes and pushes her now empty cup to you.

“You want some more?” you ask and she nods. 

You pop behind the counter, to the soda fountain and refill her cup with water. Walking back, you notice its quieter, but you can’t place why. Glancing around, you see the fan has stopped whirring. It had been annoying in the beginning when Benny got it, but eventually it became just another part of the background noise. 

You pay it no mind, continuing your path to the little girl currently wiping her nose. 

You set down her water and openly stare at her as she hoovers down her burger. She finishes, her face covered in grease and sauce. Grabbing some napkins, you hand them to her but she just stares at you blankly. “Here,” you reach for her cheek with another napkin and she leans away, “Its ok. I’m just gonna wipe your face. You got a little carried away there” 

She leans back toward you, blushing lightly, and you clear her face of the burger’s remains. 

“There,” you smile, staring at your handiwork, “clean as a whistle!”

The toothy smile she gives you warms your heart. You lean closer to her and faux whisper, “Have you ever had a milkshake?”

She shakes her head no and you smirk, “prepare to have your mind blown.”

Ten minutes later, you are both sat on the kitchen counters, giggling as Eleven tries her 3rd shake from the lineup you’ve created. 

“What do you think, kiddo?” you ask, and she thinks for a minute then places the chocolate shake in between the strawberry and vanilla.

“Ooh, strawberry remains number one?” you check and she grins and nods. 

With every minute you spend with her, you notice her opening up more and more. You don’t know how you’re going to be able to leave her at the end of the night. You’ve already stayed 30 minutes later than when your shift was supposed to end. 

As you’re contemplating, Benny walks in, finally off the phone. 

“Y/n” he says, jerking his head to the office. You look back at Eleven, apprehensive about leaving her alone, but she seems content sipping on her chocolate shake as she fishes for the cherry from the already done strawberry shake. 

You follow Benny into the office, leaving the door slightly ajar. 

You immediately question him, “what’d they say?”

He pulls his hand over his face, “they’re coming in the morning to get her…taking her up to Roane county offices. She’ll stay here tonight, I can set the cot out tonight for her.”

You glanced out to peek at Eleven, who’d moved onto her next shake. She was so small, and you’d heard of kids who’d gone into the system. Furrowing your brow, you asked Benny, “Do you need me to stay here tonight?” 

He shook his head, “It's okay buddy, you’ve got class tomorrow. You get home – I’ve got this.”

“Okay…” you responded, not sure why you were so disappointed.

–––––

After you hang up your apron, you approach Eleven, still sitting on the counter. “Hey kiddo,” you begin, “I have to head home.”

She looks up at you, her brown eyes swimming with uncertainty. If you weren’t so close at her, you wouldn’t have heard her say, “Leave?” “Yeah, Eleven, I’m leaving.” you reply.

“No,” she begins to hop off the counter, “stay”

You crouch to her height and hold arms softly

“Oh kiddo…I have to go home, but I’ll tell you what: I’ve had such a great time with you today. I’ll give you my number, and whenever you get where you’re going, you can give me a call, ok? You’ll tell me all about it?” you reach into your bag and tear a piece of paper from your notebook, writing your bedroom phone number on it. You pass it into Eleven’s hand before she pulls you into a tight hug. When she finally releases you from the embrace, you wipe a stray tear from her cheek. 

Rising, you lift her back onto the counter and pat her forehead. Loud enough for Benny to hear, you say, “Alright you two, don’t have too much fun. Eleven, keep an eye on him.”

You give her a wink and she giggles.

Walking out the door, you hear Benny call out to you, "bye buddy!"

Next Part

[roping-riding-wrangling]

Where You Lead

The next song plays and you smile as your dad holds out his hands to twirl you around the kitchen. Your dad sings along to Carole King as you laugh through the dizziness he inflicts on you.

Y/n Newby led a simple life. It was quiet, few people were involved, and that exactly how she wanted it. Between a strange little girl, a missing boy, and her dead boss, she struggles to maintain the simplicity she'd loved.

Pairings: endgame Steve Harrington x Reader, minor Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warnings: Stranger Things rewrite, Fem!Reader, slow burn, heavy angst, cursing, reader has Emotional Reppression Issues™

Season 1

Chapter One: Rapture

Chapter Two: Bennie and the Jets

Chapter Three: I Am A Rock

Chapter Four: Eyes Without A Face

Chapter Five: Little Black Train