#SDKLFSDKLFKLDS

[fyrbol]

[ SACRIFICE ]:     knowing that the circumstances only allow one of them to survive, the sender sacrifices their life in order to guarantee the receiver’s survival and safety.

settling dust prompts / accepting.

THEY HAD ALWAYS BEEN UNITED   in their undesirability. the role of social pariah is a cumbersome one to wield and ultimately one neither of them were willing to shed   —   in spite of and especially because   who would they be without it   ?   he had always found robin's demeanour a charm, thought that if he could find badassery in the characteristics she was so often chastised for, maybe a black boy in hawkins had a chance as well.   idols are funny things.

he was indebted to them, really   :   erica had told tall tales of their adventures into enemy lines   (   much to lucas' horror   )   and robin's strict curtailings on otherwise reckless games.   he was thankful for that.   had promised her in unspoken terms   —   promised himself, really — that he would re - pay them the favour.   name your price, say the word.

so they find themselves at the precipice together   —   robin nigh fallen, lucas holding on to their arm for dear life   —   a caricature of a cliff - edge beckoning, maw wide open and waiting for payment. as if the tectonic plates themselves had split where they stood, tearing away from one another like the parting red sea.   this is your moment.   the groans of the dead echo endlessly   :   if lucas looks down past robin's swaying shoulder he sees colonies of them climbing up from the earth's core, their eyes set on the surface. he can't afford to think about them.

he owes her.

heaving with all his might, both arms tugging on her one, his shoulders strain at the sockets. he's already slipped once, knees grazing beyond bloody recognition and embedded with stone   :   the sacrifice he makes to not go tumbling down with them. panic is surging with the growing tide, though. every passing minute, those living corpses get a little bit closer, rotting mouths wet with the thought of biting into the bait on a hook that is robin.

❛   you need a foothold, a tree root,   anything   !   i've got you   —   i'm not letting go.   ❜   teeth chew into his lower lip, brow clenched stubbornly. this, he knows.   to let go would be to relinquish her.   he'd not considered that he didn't have to be the one letting go for her to fall. they are kindred in their snap assessments of a situation, but lucas' judgment is clouded by that which he owes.   robin has to live.   they say something he doesn't quite catch nor process, and then like a stone, sudden as a violin string snapping,   she plummets.   she lets go.

he is still with the shock of it. hands still gripping to the empty space robin once took up. grasping for their presence. a phantom ache at its absence. there is no thud or splash or sound to suggest she ever reached the bottom   (   if this gaping chasm even had an end   )   and he doesn't know what's worse. the sickening crunch of certain death, or   an endless limbo of maybes.   he thinks an earthquake is beginning, but realises it is just his fingers, his wrists, shoulders, body trembling. he is wracked with the loss that simply   hadn't been an option.

the ache sets in, blurs his vision.   the best of them has fallen.   his first, immediate and selfish thought is who is he supposed to look up to now   ?   his second is how he's going to tell the others.   tell steve.

his third is to jump down with them.   pariahs be damned.