Chapter Text
The red chip clinks down the pegboard, landing in the spot labeled “1” without bouncing. Eleven reaches forward from her kneeling position to grab the chip, handing it back to Will without looking away from the board.
“Good,” she praises, tucking a loose strand of shoulder-length hair behind her ear. “Again. Try five.”
“Seriously?” Will asks, exasperated, looking toward the scientist standing in the corner taking notes. “We’ve been doing this for an hour. I can make this,” he brandishes the chip, “go into whichever slot I want it to. Can we please do something else?”
The man in the lab coat raises his head from the clipboard in his hands. He’s young, new to the job. His foot taps on the ground nervously. He looks at Will, keeping his expression relaxed, despite the fear in his eyes.
“Doctor Owens said this was what we were doing today,” he replies, looking to El for help. “Anything else would be too dangerous.”
For a moment, Will looks like he’s going to say something else, but El reaches over, touching his wrist gently. When they make eye contact, she shakes her head.
“We’re almost finished, anyway,” she reasons softly, trying to avoid an argument.
Will rolls his eyes, gripping the plastic in his hand tighter. Slowly, he stands, dropping it between the plastic and the pegboard, watching as it plinks its way into the “5” slot. He looks expectantly at the man in the corner.
“Well?” he asks irritably. “Am I done?”
The man doesn’t answer immediately, taking a moment to look between Will and his notes. He sighs and scribbles something else in the margin of the page.
“Technically you still have half an hour,” he mutters, glancing at his watch. “But you did an exceptional job today.”
“Can we leave?” El asks, glancing at Will nervously.
There’s something impatient in the way he’s holding himself, like he’s ready to bolt as soon as he’s given permission – it looks like he may leave without it. Her hand twitches, resisting reaching out to anchor him.
“I suppose,” the scientist says finally. He secures his pen under the clip and moves toward the door, pausing for a moment. He glances over his shoulder at Will, who still looks upset. “I’m sorry we can’t do more, Will. It’s just after–”
“Yeah after last month,” Will says, a slight pink tinge creeping into his cheeks, the fight leaving his body. “I know. You're not the one that makes decisions. You just work here.”
The man looks relieved and gives them both a tight smile before slipping through the door, leaving Will and El alone. Will’s gaze is fixed on the pegboard, eyes tracing every possible path to each number, waiting for El to speak.
She doesn’t; instead, she fixes her gaze on her brother. The room is silent, save for the sound of them breathing. El takes a step toward him, pulling her attention to the board. Slowly, she reaches forward, running her fingers along the plexiglass.
“You’re getting very good,” she says gently. “I was never able to do this.”
“You could now,” Will sighs. “I’m only good at it because it’s the only thing they let me do.”
El frowns at him. “That’s not true,” she says slowly. “You did other things before–”
“Can we please not talk about it?” Will asks, standing from where he’s crouched. “I know I did other stuff but I do this for an hour and a half three times a week. Of course I’m good at it.”
Halfheartedly, he kicks the board and moves toward the door. El chews on her cheek as she watches him.
“I’m going to find Mom and Max,” he says to the wall, not looking back.
The door closes softly behind Will. El stares at the door for a few beats before turning her attention back to the pegboard. She picks up the puck and turns it over in her hands, her fingertips catching on the rough edges.
“Three,” she whispers, dropping it into the board.
She stands back, watching as it ricochets toward the bottom. She focuses on it, unblinking. The puck falls, seemingly going straight to its intended target. It doesn’t make it, though. The puck knocks into a peg on the way down, causing it to veer off course, falling into the fourth slot.
In a swift, smooth motion El lifts her arms and flings the board into the wall. Pieces of wood clatter to the ground. Some pieces splinter and fly to the left or the right of the site of impact. The plastic rectangle protecting the pegs is the only thing still intact.
She stomps to the door, her heavy footfalls echoing around the sterile room. The door bounces against its hinges with the force she uses to yank it open. It slams resolutely behind her, echoing through the room.
Mike squints against the afternoon sun. It still isn’t as bright as it used to be, a smoky haze still blocking the harshest rays from the sun, but the light seems to be getting more intense by the day.
Lucas and Dustin are leaning over the engine of a Ford, arguing as Lucas yanks a wrench toward himself. Dustin fumbles the flashlight, nearly dropping it, when he reaches forward to help. Lucas pushes at him, saying something Mike can’t quite make out.
He sighs, pushing himself away from his silver Chevy Citation. He jogs over to the car his friends are arguing over just in time to catch a new round of insults from Lucas.
“How hard is it to hold a flashlight?” he asks, wiping at his brow, glaring at Dustin. “I literally just need you to stand still. Even you’re capable of that.”
“If I stand in one place your head will get in the way,” Dustin argues, trying to reposition the light over the engine. “You should be thanking me.”
Lucas groans, looking back at the inner workings of the car. To Dustin’s credit, it is difficult to light the space where he’s shoved the wrench between the radiator and the engine.
“You’re actively making this harder,” Lucas says finally, grabbing the flashlight from Dustin. He positions it and gets back to work, shoving Dustin out of the way with his shoulder.
“Do either of you know what you’re doing?” Mike asks, crossing his arms and leaning in, trying to get a better look.
“Not exactly,” Lucas admits, finally gaining the leverage he needs. “But I figure if I replace enough things in my car, eventually the weird noise will stop.”
“He’s planning on taking this whole car apart?” Mike says skeptically, turning to Dustin who shrugs in response.
“I’m not planning on taking the whole car apart,” Lucas grumbles, breathing heavily from the effort. “My dad pointed out what it could be.”
“So what parts do you need?” Mike asks after a few more seconds of watching Lucas loosen a bolt.
Lucas doesn’t answer.
“He’s going off memory,” Dustin stage whispers to Mike.
“Seriously, Lucas? You know Jonathan could probably help with this,” Mike says as a bolt clatters to the ground. “We can ask him tonight.”
“I’m not hanging out tonight,” he says, handing his tools to Dustin.
“What do you mean you’re not hanging out tonight?” Dustin asks, watching as he struggles to pull something from the radiator.
“Max and El want to see Snow White ,” Lucas replies, finally pulling the radiator fan free.
Mike scrunches his nose. “I forgot they put it back in theaters.”
“It’s a Disney movie,” Dustin says. “People eat it up every time they rerelease anything.” He turns his attention back to Lucas. “Can’t you just drop them off?”
“Uh, no,” he replies, trudging back toward Mike’s car, smiling gratefully at Mike when he walks ahead of him to open the trunk. “They were pretty insistent I come, too.”
“Isn’t it kind of weird that El is always hanging out with you guys?” Dustin asks, following behind Lucas.
“What do you mean?” he asks as he hoists the fan into the trunk, sounding suspicious.
“I don’t know,” Dustin says. “When’s the last time you hung out with just Max?”
“Leave him alone,” Mike says, laughing as he slams the trunk closed hard. “You know El and Max have been attached at the hip since Max woke up.”
“Yeah, I get that. But I feel like you barely see her alone, Lucas. Doesn’t that bother you?”
“Not really. Max and I are taking things slow,” Lucas admits. “El’s cool, too, so I don’t really mind.”
“You have two girlfriends now, Lucas?” Mike asks, smirking, leaning against his car.
Lucas snorts. “First, El isn’t my type,” he says, hoisting himself onto the trunk. “Second, even if she was, she dated you and that’s like, totally not cool.”
“I don’t think I’d care,” Mike says. “It would honestly just be impressive that you managed to get two girlfriends.”
“Oh, shut up,” Lucas says, smug. “If any of us was going to have two girlfriends, you know it’d be me.”
“Actually,” Dustin says thoughtfully, climbing up next to Lucas, “I think it’d be Will.”
Mike swallows, clenching his jaw. He looks away from his friends, scanning the junkyard, intent on finding something else to focus on.
“God,” Lucas laughs, “you’re right. I watched him turn down, like, four girls last semester alone.”
Mike’s hands curl into fists. He shoves them into his pockets, trying to tune out his friends.
“It’s his face,” Dustin muses. “He looks so sweet and innocent. Girls eat that shit up, don’t they, Mike?”
Mike casts a quick glance at the two of them before looking away again. “Yeah, totally,” he says shortly.
“Everything okay?” Lucas asks.
“Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking. It’s nothing,” Mike replies dismissively. He looks at Dustin, eager to get the attention off himself. “How’s Suzie?”
“You already know,” Dustin says, taking the bait. “I still haven’t heard from her. Except for a couple postcards.”
“She’s still on that road trip?” he asks. “Why the hell would anyone want to spend that long alone with their sibling?”
“I don’t know. She said it was Eden’s idea. She didn’t really elaborate,” Dustin says, leaning back against the car to stare up at the sky. “I’m not mad about it or anything, I just miss her.”
“Do you know when she’ll be home?” Mike asks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet.
“No, but it has to be soon,” Dustin guesses. “School starts in two weeks.”
Lucas makes an exaggerated gagging noise. “Don’t remind me.”
Mike laughs, standing fully and reaching toward the sky, stretching his back and shoulders. “Hey, Max’ll be back in school this year,” he reminds him, checking his watch as he brings his arms back down to his sides. “Speaking of, they’re probably home now. You want me to drop you off at your place?”
“Yeah,” Lucas says, hopping down from the car. He waits for Dustin to climb down before opening the door to the back seat. “You think she’s breaking up with you?”
“No!” Dustin replies, throwing himself in the passenger’s seat. He buckles his seatbelt before turning to Mike. “You don’t think that’s what’s going on, right?”
Mike shrugs, starting the car. “I mean, I didn’t think she was the kind of person to do that but…”
“But what?” Dustin asks, crossing his arms.
“It is kind of weird that you haven’t heard from her all summer,” he says carefully.
Gravel crunches beneath the car as Mike drives them toward the road. The rough terrain bounces them in their seats.
“You got postcards,” Lucas says, scooting into the middle, not bothering with a seatbelt. “What did she write?”
“That she missed me and loved me,” Dustin replies, turning to face him. “You know, standard stuff.”
“Anything else?” Mike asks, stopping just before the main road. A car speeds by them before he pulls away from the junkyard. “Like what they’re doing?”
“Where are the postcards from?” Lucas cuts in.
Dustin hums, furrowing his brow, watching the barren landscape pass them by. “New Mexico, Alabama, and Virginia,” he says thoughtfully. “There’s another but I can’t remember where it’s from. And it’s not like the postcards are big. She can’t really fit much on them.”
“You should bring them to Lucas’s tomorrow,” Mike suggests.
“I don’t want you guys reading my private correspondence!” Dustin protests.
“We’re not going to make fun of you!” Mike says.
“Erica might,” Lucas says seriously.
“I doubt it,” Mike mutters, reaching forward to turn on the radio. “She’s got a soft spot for Dustin.”
“We fought Russians together,” Dustin says nonchalantly. “She’s not who I’m worried about, though.”
“Who–?”
“It’s Max,” Lucas says, cutting Mike off.
“She can’t see,” Mike says. “We just won’t read them out loud.”
Lucas hums thoughtfully. “That might work.”
Dustin looks between Mike and Lucas, they’re both quiet, like they’re waiting for him to agree.
“That’s a bad idea,” he says finally, rubbing a hand over his face. “You guys have to understand why that’s a bad idea, right?”
“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Mike says.
“We wouldn’t hide them or anything,” Lucas says. “We’d just… paraphrase whatever Suzie wrote.”
Dustin groans. “Max is perceptive as hell, there’s no way she wouldn’t know we were lying to her.”
“What’s she going to do, Dustin?” Mike asks. “She’s in a wheelchair.”
“Hold on,” Lucas snaps. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing!” Mike says defensively, taking a turn just a little too hard.
Lucas’s hands shoot forward to grip the bench in front of him to steady himself, but he still goes flying across the backseat.
“Dude, watch it!” he cries, scrambling to get back into his seat. When he’s there, he fastens the lap belt and glares up at Mike.
“The worst that can happen is that she breaks up with your ass,” Dustin says, sounding exasperated.
Lucas furrows his brow, focusing on the road in front of them.
“Or,” Dustin continues, “she sics El on us.”
“El wouldn’t go for that,” Mike argues. “She’s too nice.”
Dustin raises an eyebrow at Mike. “You really think she’d excuse lying to her best friend?”
“You have a point,” Lucas says thoughtfully. “I still think you should bring them over, though.”
“I’ll think about it,” Dustin says, resigned.
The car falls silent, save for the commercial playing softly on the radio. When they pull up to the bridge, Mike slows down long enough to ensure there still aren’t any guards before speeding through the opened gate.
“How long do you think it’s going to take them to fix the roads?” Mike asks, sounding irritated. “Like, great that Hawkins is being put back together but what’s the point if I still have to use the bridges.”
Lucas snorts and falls back against his seat. “You sound like your dad.”
“No I don’t,” Mike replies stubbornly. “This just adds like five minutes to the drive.”
“I didn’t realize you disliked our company so much,” Lucas shoots back.
“Can you guys please stop arguing,” Dustin asks, rubbing his temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”
Mike looks like he’s going to say something else, but he thinks better of it, instead reaching forward to turn up the radio, a Heart song filling the cabin.
“Seriously?” Lucas asks, scrunching his nose.
“Hey,” Dustin says, swinging around. “What did I just say?”
“Yeah, Lucas,” Mike interjects smugly. “Besides, Heart is awesome.”
Dustin reaches forward, cranking the radio as high as it’ll go.
Steve pulls into his driveway, the radio turned off, his face forlorn. He steps out, grabbing the stack of movies from his passenger seat before starting up the path. When he gets to the front door, he expertly locates his house key on his keyring. It catches on the keyhole, though, and slips from his hand, clattering to the ground.
For a moment, he doesn’t move, doesn’t even look at his keys. He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths before he bends down, retrieving them from the ground. Slowly, to avoid dropping them a second time, he slots the key into the lock. He turns it, expecting to hear a click, but it doesn’t come.
“Why the fuck is my door unlocked?” Steve asks no one.
He shoves his keys in his pocket before pushing the door open, fully intent on yelling at Eddie as soon as he finds him, but he stops when the smell of garlic slams into him. Something that sounds suspiciously like “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” is floating from the kitchen.
“Are you listening to Whitney Huston?” he calls into the house as he closes the door behind him.
The music gets louder as he approaches the doorway to the kitchen. There’s no way Eddie heard him come in or call to him, because he’s dancing. It’s subtle, a sway of his hips, a bob of his head. Steve leans against the doorframe, watching him curiously, a smile settling on his face.
Eddie’s leaning over a steaming pot, stirring red pasta sauce. Another pot is starting to boil on the back burner. But, as though sensing Steve’s eyes on him, he whips around, his wooden spoon still in hand.
He jerks back violently, knocking his elbow against the counter, dropping the spoon. It clatters across the floor, splattering sauce across the linoleum.
“Don’t sneak up on me, asshole!” Eddie admonishes, clutching his elbow.
Steve smirks at him. “I yelled at you when I walked in,” he says, picking up the spoon from the ground. “It’s not my fault you were too into the song to hear me.”
“I don’t even like this shit,” Eddie says quickly, grabbing a cloth to clean the floor. “It was just what was on the radio.”
“Yeah, sure,” Steve says sarcastically, tossing the spoon into the sink. He turns down the boombox as the song is fading out. “You made dinner?”
“Well, yeah,” Eddie replies from where he’s wiping spaghetti sauce, “you were supposed to be home two hours ago. Figured you had a shit Monday.”
Steve’s quiet for long enough that Eddie starts to get nervous. He glances up at him, only to find Steve staring down at him with a look of wonder on his face.
“You good, man?” Eddie asks, standing slowly like he’s afraid he’ll spook Steve. “You look like you’re going to cry or something.”
Steve blinks. “How the hell did I ever live without you?”
The blush that just left Eddie’s face returns in full force. He turns away from Steve, tossing the cloth onto the counter, before grabbing another spoon, returning his attention to the stove.
“Go change out of your work clothes or something,” Eddie mumbles, letting his hair fall around his face. “I’m almost done with dinner.”
There’s a plate waiting at an empty seat across the table from Eddie when Steve wanders into the kitchen. His hair sticks to his forehead from the quick shower he took. He settles into his seat and looks at Eddie’s untouched plate.
“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Steve says, tilting his head.
“It was too hot to eat anyway,” Eddie says casually, picking up his fork, gesturing at Steve. “Tell me about your shitty Monday.”
“The store was a mess when we got there,” Steve says bitterly, grabbing a piece of garlic bread. “Daniel’s been real shit at his job lately.”
“I thought you said he was getting better,” Eddie mutters through a mouthful of pasta.
“After Matt talked to him, yeah,” Steve replies, “but that was three weeks ago.”
“Can’t you fire him?” Eddie asks. “Like, you’re literally in charge of the entire store.”
Steve groans. “I don’t think I can.”
Eddie raises an eyebrow. “What? You’re too chicken shit to fire him?”
“He has a wife!” Steve replies. “I can’t just take away his job. Plus, if I fire him I won’t have anyone to close on the weekends. I’m already down one person.”
“Hire Henderson to do it,” Eddie says, stabbing at the spaghetti on his plate. “Kid’s been saying he needs a job.”
“What about DnD?” Steve asks. “Don’t you guys meet on Sundays?”
Eddie shrugs. “We’ve been meeting Wednesdays and Sundays all summer. We can change to Wednesdays when the twerps go back to school. Not a big deal.”
Steve taps his fork against the porcelain plate. “You think he’ll go for it?”
“Probably,” Eddie says. “I think he’d like it.”
“I’ll ask him Wednesday,” Steve decides, stopping to take a bite. He takes a sip of the beer in front of him before speaking again. “Ya know, if it weren’t for your campaign, I don’t think I’d see any of the kids anymore.”
“They’re growing up, Stevie,” Eddie coos.
Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, but they’re just driving around doing god knows what, going who knows where.”
“It’s summer, Steve,” Eddie says dismissively. “They’ll hang out with you again when school starts.”
“I’m just worried about them, is all.”
“I know, Steve,” Eddie mutters. “I know.”
“So?” Lucas says expectantly as he turns into the Byers’ driveway. He pulls the e-brake and throws his car into neutral, leaving it running. “How was your first theater experience as a blind woman?”
“Actually not as terrible as I thought it’d be,” Max admits. “I’m not sure I’d want to go for something new, though.”
“What do you mean?” El asks from the back.
Max shrugs. “I mean. I remember watching that movie. I can see it in my mind if I focus on it hard enough,” she explains. “It was actually kind of nice.”
El chews the inside of her cheek, glancing at Lucas in the mirror. He’s already looking at her, shrugging when her eyes meet his.
“Nice how?” El asks, leaning forward to better watch Max’s face.
“Like, I don’t know,” she says, sounding frustrated. “I can’t put it into words. But it was… familiar. Like… a hug from my grandma but in my brain.”
El sinks back in her seat, looking discouraged. “That does sound nice,” she replies.
“No new memories or anything?” Lucas asks, unbuckling his seatbelt.
“I would have told you if I remembered something,” Max says, crossing her arms. “Do you guys ever think we might be approaching this the wrong way?”
“What do you mean?” Lucas replies. “A movie helped El wake you up.”
“That movie,” El interjects. “That movie helped me wake you up.”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I just feel like this just isn’t working. If movies were going to help, they would have already.”
“We’ll try something else, then,” Lucas says.
“Like what?” Max asks.
The car is quiet. Lucas taps his fingers against the steering wheel. El scans Max’s face thoughtfully, like the answer might be hidden there.
“We’ll figure something out,” he says confidently. “It’s late. You two should probably head in.”
Max scoffs. “Joyce doesn’t care that we get home late.”
“My parents care if I do, though,” Lucas says, finally killing the engine.
He tosses the keys to El and gets out of the car, crossing over to open Max’s door. Her seatbelt is unbuckled already. She lifts her face toward Lucas when he pulls the door open.
“Come here often?” she asks, teasing him with a slight smirk on her face.
Lucas kneels in front of her, bringing her hands into his. “Yeah, actually,” he replies playfully. “My girlfriend lives here.”
“You have a girlfriend?” Max asks, faking shock. “That’s a shame, I was starting to really like you.”
The rattling of her empty wheelchair cuts their conversation short. Lucas turns his head toward El, who’s smiling apologetically. He smiles back genuinely, seemingly unbothered at the moment between him and Max being interrupted.
“Let’s get you two inside,” he says, carefully lifting Max from the car.
El holds the chair steady as Lucas lowers Max onto the seat. He takes a moment to arrange her legs before stepping out of the way to allow El to maneuver around the car and toward the ramp Hopper built a few weeks after they moved Max into the house.
Lucas closes the passenger door and jogs slightly to catch up with the girls. El stops in front of the house, looking at him expectantly.
He steps forward to pull the door open, but he stops in front of Max. Slowly, he kneels in front of her, placing a hand on either armrest. She slides her hands forward, gently caressing his knuckles.
“I had fun tonight,” he murmurs, bringing one hand to her face.
“Yeah, me too,” she replies softly, leaning toward him.
Lucas guides her the rest of the way to him, connecting their lips in a chaste kiss. He pulls away, placing a final peck on her lips. He looks at her face, stroking it gently with his thumb before glancing up at Eleven.
She’s watching them curiously, something that Lucas can’t read settling over her features. He stands fully, opening the door and taking a step back so she can push Max inside.
Something comes over him as El is walking past. His hand shoots out, grabbing her wrist. He pulls her toward him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. Tentatively, she returns the embrace.
“Thanks for suggesting the movie,” he says into her hair before pulling away.
El blinks at him, unsure of how to react to the gesture. “Thank you for driving us,” she replies after a beat.
“Anytime,” Lucas says awkwardly, finally stepping fully away to let the girls pass through. “Have a good night.”
“You too, Lucas,” Max replies, unaware of exactly what just happened behind her. El starts pushing her forward. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
“See ya,” he says, closing the door behind them.
El stops just beyond the threshold, turning around to lock the deadbolt. When it clicks into place, she walks in front of Max, kneeling to remove her shoes.
“Was Lucas being weird?” Max asks as El pulls off the sneaker on her right foot.
“No,” El replies thoughtfully, tugging at the knot on Max’s other shoe. “He just hugged me before he left.”
Max hums, moving her foot to help El extract it. “It didn’t make you uncomfortable, did it?” she asks carefully. “It sounded kind of awkward.”
“He’s my friend,” El says, moving onto untying her own shoes. “I don’t mind. It was kind of… nice. I wasn’t expecting it.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Max replies.
The two are quiet as El tosses her shoes to the side. She stands, pushing Max toward their room.
“I think he might have been uncomfortable,” Eleven says as they enter the room. The door clicks shut behind them.
“I kind of got that,” Max replies, sounding amused. “I wonder what’s gotten into him.”
Jonathan clumsily grips the camera, the thick gloves protecting his hands taking away much of his dexterity. The white government-issued truck rumbles toward a gaping fissure. Hopper reaches forward, ensuring the air recirculation button is engaged. Particles from the Upside Down trickle through at a slightly alarming rate.
“You okay?” Hopper asks, sending a glance toward Jonathan.
Jonathan tears his eyes away from a shadowy figure moving toward the opening. “Yeah,” he replies, giving him a tight smile. He looks back at the monster ahead. “They just freak me out.”
Hopper’s gloves squeak against the leather of the steering wheel as he tightens his grip. “You’re safe. No one’s been attacked.”
Jonathan laughs bitterly. “Yeah, not yet.”
Next to him, Hopper huffs, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Whatever these things are… they’re different.”
“So we should just get up close and personal with them?” he scoffs in reply, turning his attention to his camera.
“I didn’t say that.” Hopper says, sounding a little annoyed at the implication. “I’m just saying they’ve been predictable so far.”
“I know…”
“Plus we go in armed to the teeth. If they do decide to get hostile, we can stop them,” he says, sending another look in Jonathan’s direction. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, kid.”
“No, no,” Jonathan says. “I want to.”
“What you’re doing is important,” Hopper says, slowing the car as they get closer.
“I hope so,” he replies, swallowing hard when they park.
Hopper throws his hood on first, looking at Jonathan expectantly. He carefully places his camera in his lap before grabbing his own head covering from the floorboards in front of him.
After a few minutes, another truck with three more people dressed in the same suits as they are, parks beside them. Jonathan and Hopper stay where they are, waiting for the other team sent by the lab to unload.
They begin their slow survey of the area, looking for monsters other than the overly tall, humanoid figure patrolling the edge of the fissure. Jonathan lifts the camera, taking a photo of the crew through the windshield.
“We don’t need pictures of them,” Hopper muses, sounding bored.
Jonathan looks over at him then down at the camera in his hands. Quickly, he lifts it, snapping a picture of Hopper before he realizes what’s happening.
“Hey, knock it off,” he says, swatting Jonathan away. “You’re going to run out of film.”
Instead of answering, Jonathan leans forward, opening the glovebox to reveal about a dozen rolls of film. He smirks at Hopper, waiting for a response, but it doesn’t come.
The team in the field is waving them forward, the area cleared. Jonathan is still for a moment, understanding both how dangerous and how important this research is. When he finally gathers his camera and opens the door, Hopper kills the engine and gets out after him.
He grabs a flamethrower from the back of the car, checking it over before jogging to catch up with Jonathan. The rest of the crew is already walking to escort him toward the creature that doesn’t seem to be paying them any mind.
They walk toward it, its gray-blue features coming into focus. Rhythmic growls come from the monster, even its breathing is intimidating.
About fifty feet away from where it's pacing, the group stops. Jonathan lifts the camera, taking a few shots. He glances back toward Hopper before stepping closer.
He moves silently, at a snail’s pace, the camera clutched tightly in his hands, eyes focused on the creature. Hopper follows close behind, grip firm on the flamethrower. The rest of the men watch them closely, unwilling to get closer unless absolutely necessary.
Jonathan stops moving about twenty feet away. The monster has stopped moving, its back to them. Sinewy, vine-like muscles crawl along the creature’s body. He raises the camera again, carefully adjusting the lens before taking another few photos.
“I think I can get closer,” he murmurs under his breath, starting to walk again.
Hopper’s hand shoots out, grabbing Jonathan by the elbow. He shakes his head when Jonathan turns around to face him.
“We need as much information as we can get,” Jonathan insists, yanking his arm away. “You said it yourself, no one’s been attacked. I’ll be fine.”
It’s clear Hopper wants to argue, but he lets Jonathan walk forward without further complaint. Slowly, they creep closer, their footfalls light, the camera clicking steadily.
Jonathan stops abruptly, just out of the monster’s reach. Slowly, he snaps pictures of every inch of it – its short, thick arms; its hands, that look more like slimy talons; its long, lanky legs; its glistening, clawed feet.
He’s in the midst of taking another photo when the beast turns around. Jonathan and Hopper freeze in place.
Behind them, the crew from the lab takes a few steps forward, but Hopper raises his hand, stopping them from coming any closer. His eyes are trained on the creature, the horrible rattle of its breathing. The way it raises its hand, slowly reaching forward.
Jonathan closes his eyes and his breathing comes in shallow breaths as he tries to remain still. Above him, the monster runs its finger along the top of the camera, pressing down the shutter button. It makes a delighted noise, jumping into the air.
“You like that?” Jonathan asks breathlessly, his shoulders dropping a little.
The monster takes a step back, tilting its head curiously. It allows Jonathan to raise the camera, to take a few more photos. Hopper watches in awe, lowering his weapon.
He chuckles softly, but it’s enough to grab the creature’s attention. They freeze again as it appraises Hopper, its attention landing on the flamethrower in his hands. It growls, a gurgling, clicking noise, before slinking away, leaving them staring after it.
Erica shoves blue pegs into the Lite Brite, her lips pursed in concentration. She carefully rotates the scuffed miniature in her other hand, comparing it to the portrait staring back at her. Faint laughter from the group floats through her closed door from down the hallway.
The sound gets louder, her door creaking open. She frowns, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, preparing herself to deal with the intruder.
“Lucas, I told you to leave me alone,” she says, her voice dripping with annoyance.
“Not Lucas,” Dustin replies, his head peeking in through a crack in the door. He gives her a warm smile when she turns to look at him. “Can I come in?”
Erica levels him with an unimpressed look but she nods, watching as he slips inside, closing the door behind him. He walks around to her, perching himself on the edge of her bed.
“What do you want?” she asks after a moment of silence.
“I just wanted to see what you were doing,” he says casually.
“Just playing with my Lite Brite,” she answers, turning around and shoving another peg into place.
He hums, watching as she ignores him. “We miss you out there.”
Erica rolls her eyes, scoffing. “Kind of messed up, you guys want to hang out with a thirteen year old.”
“It’s not messed up,” Dustin argues. “You’re our friend.”
“Sorry for having a life outside of you freaks,” she replies insincerely.
Dustin taps his fingers against his thigh, considering the insult. She goes back to the project in front of her, waiting for him to leave.
“You missed the last three DnD sessions,” he says, his voice soft.
Erica doesn’t answer, focusing more firmly on the figure in her hand. She picks up another red peg and looks at the board thoughtfully.
“Are you coming tomorrow?” he asks, leaning forward, trying to recapture her attention.
She sighs, dropping her miniature onto her desk. “I don’t know,” she says, turning around again. “I’m a busy woman.”
“Too busy for DnD?” Dustin asks skeptically. “I’m sorry, but that doesn’t sound like you.”
“Well,” she mutters, shrugging, “it is me.”
He’s quiet, appraising Erica’s standoffish demeanor, her raised eyebrow, her shoulders rigid.
“What?” she asks impatiently.
Dustin frowns, chewing the inside of his cheek. “You can talk to me, you know?” he says gently. “I’m your friend.”
“I don’t know,” she says, unsure of herself, looking at the carpet. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” Dustin asks, tilting his head.
Erica exhales heavily. “School, I guess,” she admits.
“What about it? I thought you liked school.”
“I do,” she says. “But all of my friends moved.”
“What about Amy?”
“Amy’s parents sold her house last month,” she replies sourly. “They moved to Indianapolis last week.”
“Oh,” Dustin says carefully. “Well, you have us.”
She rolls her eyes. “I still have one more year left in middle school. That’s not helpful.”
“Okay, so you won’t have friends in school this year,” he replies bluntly, ignoring the pissy look she sends his way. “But you’ll have friends after school. You have friends now.”
“Cool,” Erica spits, crossing her arms. “I’m such a loser I have to hang out with my brother and his friends.”
“Erica, don’t act like we aren’t friends independent of Lucas,” Dustin says, sounding hurt. “We fought together.”
That earns him a smile. “Okay, fine,” she says. “I have one friend.”
“You get along with Max and El, too,” he reminds her, a smile growing on his face.
“Okay, yeah. They are pretty cool,” she admits, sounding lighter.
Silence envelopes them, broken by Lucas shouting something from the living room. Dustin looks at Erica, jerking his head toward the door.
“Wanna see what that was all about?” he asks, raising an eyebrow in challenge.
She glances back at the Lite Brite, giving her work one last look before she turns it off. She stands, walking to the door, leaving Dustin sitting on her bed staring after her.
“Well?” she asks, grabbing the doorknob. “Are you coming?”
He jumps up, scuttling across the room to follow her out. She disappears into the hallway before he reaches the door. He shuts it closed firmly behind him.
In the living room, Max is loudly greeting Erica, calling her over to sit next to her. Disconcertingly, the room goes quiet. Dustin walks faster, rounding the corner to see Erica tucked away in the corner of the couch, flipping through Suzie’s postcards.
“Come on,” Dustin groans, walking forward to snatch the cards from Erica’s hands.
“What, Dusty-bun?” Erica asks. “You don’t want me seeing the love letters from your girlfriend?”
“Wait,” Max says, laughing. “Dusty-bun? Who’s Dusty-bun?”
Dustin looks at Lucas for help, but is met with a shrug. The damage has already been done.
“Dustin, I assume,” Erica replies, grabbing the postcards back from his hands. “That’s who almost all of these are addressed to,” she looks around the room; at Dustin standing in front of her, Lucas sitting on the opposite side of the couch, Mike and Will sitting just a little too close to each other on the loveseat. “Did you guys seriously not read these to her?”
“What?!” Max says, turning toward Erica.
“I told you guys this was a bad idea,” Will says, smiling at the panic on Dustin’s face.
“Oh, so you knew they were lying?” Erica asks, immediately coming to Max’s defense. “And you just didn’t say anything?”
“Oh, shit,” Mike giggles. “Someone’s in trouble.”
“Everyone’s in trouble, Wheeler,” Max says. “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”
“Dustin was worried you were going to make fun of the nickname,” Lucas replies. “Everything else I read was the same.”
“I’m giving everyone one chance to tell me the truth,” she says, sensing that there’s something they aren’t telling her.
The group is quiet, Lucas and Dustin exchange a look. For a moment, it seems like everyone’s going to keep their mouths shut, but Erica clears her throat, holding the postcard from Virginia.
“We left out something else,” Will says. Lucas and Dustin answer with a groan. “What? I live with her and I told all of you this wasn’t a good idea.”
“Exactly,” Max replies smuggly. “So what the hell else did you leave out?”
“I’ll read it,” Erica says, grinning wickedly at Dustin. “‘They say Virginia is for lovers,’” she reads, her voice sickeningly sweet.
Lucas reaches over Max, yanking the postcard from Erica’s hand before she can read further.
“Hey!” she protests. “Give that back.”
“You should not be reading that,” Lucas says sharply, tossing the postcard to Dustin.
“Was that going where I think it was going?” Max asks, snorting.
“Yep,” Mike confirms, unable to keep himself from laughing with her.
Will rolls his eyes. “I think it’s sweet, Dustin,” he says.
“Wait…” Erica says, looking between everyone. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Lucas promises, ignoring the death glare she sends his way.
“Why did you guys leave that out?” Max says, sounding genuinely curious. “It’s pretty obvious that she’s just busy.”
“That’s what I said,” Will agrees, looking over at Dustin. “I don’t think she’d just… slow motion break up with you. That just doesn’t seem like her.”
“You don’t think it’s weird that she hasn’t talked to him more?” Lucas asks, his eyes glued to Max. He reaches over to thread her fingers with hers.
“I mean, maybe,” Max says. “But is that really something you say to someone you want to break up with?”
Dustin’s still quiet, looking down at the postcards. Erica watches him, notes the way he’s lost in thought.
“Did something happen before she left for the road trip?” she asks when Dustin finally looks away from Suzie’s handwriting.
“Not exactly. It’s just… She said she’d write every week. She hasn’t. And as for this one,” Dustin says, tapping his finger on the Virginia postcard. “She doesn’t call me ‘Dusty-bun.’ Something feels off about that.”
“I think you should stop listening to Lucas,” Max says. “He has no idea what he’s talking about.”
“So no one but me and Dustin think it’s weird that Suzie broke a promise?” Lucas asks. “That doesn’t sound like the Suzie I’ve heard about.”
“She’s on a road trip, Lucas,” Erica shoots back. “Maybe she’s busy enjoying all the sights our beautiful country has to offer.”
Mike rolls his eyes dramatically. “Or they haven’t been to a post office.”
“Seriously?” Will says, leaning away from Mike so he can fix him with a judgmental look. “I’m on your side here but that’s a weak excuse, Mike. There are mailboxes literally everywhere.”
“Maybe she hasn’t been anywhere with postcards for sale,” Max suggests.
“Couldn’t she just write a letter?” Lucas asks, still not sounding convinced. Dustin’s shoulders tense as he continues to speak. “If I were on a road trip I’d write to Max every day.”
“That’s sweet,” she replies. “It’s too bad I wouldn’t be able to read your letters.”
A laugh ripples through the group as Lucas ducks his head and apologizes under his breath. The laughter dies down and Dustin’s attention falls back on the notes from Suzie. Erica sighs, getting his attention.
“When was the last time she wrote to you?” she asks.
“She sent the postcard from Virginia three weeks ago,” he says, sounding defeated. “Before now they were coming every two weeks.”
Erica hums thoughtfully. “And is her sister a good driver?”
“I think so,” Dustin says, frowning at Erica. “Why?”
She shrugs. “They might have gotten into a car accident.”
“Erica!” Lucas cries, sitting up to glare at her.
“What?” she asks. “Car accidents are on the rise. We’ve been seeing record numbers of casualties for the past few years.”
“I don’t think they were in a car accident,” Will says helpfully, leaning forward. “And I’m sure there’s another postcard on its way in the mail.” He looks at Mike expectantly.
“Uh, yeah,” he says. “And even if you don’t hear from her, they have to go home sometime. You’ll be able to talk to her then.”
Will slaps Mike. He whips around eyes wide, palms open, confusion all over his face.
“Can’t you just check to see if they’re okay?” Max asks.
Will shifts in his seat. “I’m not supposed to use my powers outside of the lab.”
“This is harmless,” Max pushes. “We can make sure she’s okay right now.”
He chews on the inside of his lip, ignoring the way Mike’s staring at him.
“You don’t have to,” Dustin says. “Just… have El check tonight and let me know.”
“No,” Will says suddenly. “No, I can do it.”
Mike grabs his shoulder, pulling his attention away from the carpet. “You don’t have to,” he says softly, eyes pleading.
Will shrugs him off. “I want to,” he says, turning his attention to Dustin. “I’m worried about Suzie, too. Let’s just make sure they don’t need any help.”
“Are you sure?” Dustin asks. He looks hopeful, solidifying the decision in Will’s mind.
“Positive,” he confirms, standing from the couch and walking to the TV. He turns it on and adjusts the dial, stopping when the sound of static fills the room. He turns around, looking at everyone else expectantly. “Can someone get me a blindfold?”
Ten minutes later, Will is sitting on the floor in front of the TV, his legs crossed, a camouflage bandana tied over his eyes. Mike and Dustin sit on either side of him, watching him intently. Lucas, Max, and Erica sit quietly on the couch.
Will takes a deep breath and holds it in for a moment before blowing it out slowly. His body is rigid, his hands balled into fists.
“Are you sure you’ve done this before?” Erica asks skeptically over the deafening white noise.
“Yes,” Will replies, sounding a little irritated.
“Do you see anything?” Max whispers.
“Not yet,” Will says shortly. “I was almost there. I need a minute, I’m a little rusty.”
Erica makes a noise of discontent. “We’re probably better off waiting for Eleven.”
Will ignores her and blocks out the rest of the room, focusing on finding Suzie. He takes a few steps into darkness, listening for signs of life. There’s something, laughter maybe, in the distance. He walks toward it slowly, like if he moves too quickly he’ll lose them.
Suzie and Eden come into focus slowly. They’re sitting in a booth, burgers in front of them. Eden dips a fry in ketchup, smiling widely at the way Suzie’s face is scrunched. She pushes a chocolate milkshake away from her.
“I found them,” Will says, getting closer.
“Are they okay?” Dustin asks urgently.
“Yeah, they’re having dinner,” Will says, pulling the blindfold off and turning toward Dustin.
Despite looking more relaxed, he’s still frowning. “At least she’s safe,” he mutters.
“I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon,” Erica says decisively, clearly done with the subject. “You guys want to fill me in on what I missed at the last three campaign sessions?”
“Well, Dustin almost got us all killed,” Lucas says, glaring at his friend.
“Okay,” Dustin says, standing up to get closer to the others. “If you hadn’t gone after those Kobolds I wouldn’t have been swinging that mace.”
Mike stands, offering a hand to Will, who’s still crouched on the floor. Will latches onto his hand, a shy smile growing on his face. He holds on tightly as Mike pulls him to his feet. They hold onto each other just a little longer than necessary.
“You, uh,” Mike whispers, dropping Will’s hand. He starts to reach toward his face, toward the blood collecting above Will’s lip, but his hand stops short twitching. “Blood,” he mutters, dropping his hand to his side looking away, his cheeks pink.
Will swipes at his nose with the back of his hand, not bothering to look at the blood there before wiping it on his pants. He walks back to the couch, throwing a grateful look at Mike over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” he mouths, smiling when Mike follows him back to the loveseat.
Joyce sits at the kitchen table, flipping through a stack of mail, mostly junk, a lit cigarette hanging from her hand. Early-evening sunshine filters in through the windows, casting an orange glow over the room.
She tosses the letters one by one onto the table, all of them addressed to her or Hopper. All except one. Jonathan’s name is written on the letter in messy scrawl. There’s no return address, but the envelope is otherwise pristine.
She puts out her cigarette and stands, walking through the house to the room Jonathan and Will share. The door is open; Jonathan is lying on his bed, headphones over his ears, a cassette player on his chest. Joyce taps on the doorframe, getting his attention.
“Hey, Mom,” he says, pulling the headphones off and pausing his music. “What’s up?”
“Weird letter for you,” she says, waving it in the air.
“Weird how?” he asks, sitting up.
She crosses the room and hands it over, watching his face for signs of recognition.
“It’s probably from Argyle,” Jonathan says after a moment. “It’s been awhile since his last letter. I wonder what he’s been up to.”
“Is he still living in that van?” Joyce asks, scrunching her nose in distaste.
“He likes it,” he says, shrugging.
She frowns. “I just don’t think it’s very safe.”
“What? And living in Hawkins is safer?”
“It’s getting safer,” she says. “El and Will have been making good progress.”
“Sure,” Jonathan replies. “Because nothing catastrophic has ever happened before. We have no idea what’s happening in the Upside Down right now.”
Joyce sits next to him, looking confused. “Sure,” she says slowly, “but since you guys ripped that blocker out of Will there hasn’t been so much as a tremor. There’s nothing new, no signs of pushback. You should know that as well as anyone now.”
He’s quiet, avoiding her eyes. “Yeah,” he says. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”
“It’s okay,” she says softly, still looking at him with her brow furrowed. She chooses her next words carefully. “Everything going okay at work?”
“It’s fine,” Jonathan replies slowly. “Not really much going on.”
Joyce is quiet, clearly waiting for him to say something else. He scratches behind his ear.
“I, uh, they had me in the field today. Mushrooms are growing out in the woods by Hopper’s old cabin,” he says. It isn’t exactly a lie.
“Cool,” she says, sounding a little disappointed with the answer. “That sounds good.”
“Yeah, the scientists hope it’ll improve the soil quality,” he replies.
They sit there, in an awkward silence, for about a minute before Joyce places her hands on her knees and pushes herself upright.
“I should probably get dinner started. El and Max should be home in about an hour,” she says as a way to excuse herself.
“What about Will?”
“He’s staying at the Wheeler’s tonight,” she replies, walking to the door. She stops most of the way out, turning to look over her shoulder. “I’m making spaghetti.”
“Sounds good, Mom,” Jonathan says, opening the letter as she disappears from view.
She walks back to the kitchen, mumbling, “Weird…” under her breath.
“Ugh,” Robin says, “you really think Molly Ringwald is hotter than Demi Moore? What is wrong with you?”
“Robin!” Nancy giggles, slapping her arm playfully. “You said there were no wrong answers.”
“Yeah,” Robin says. “It’s because I thought you were going to give me the correct answer.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t usually think about whether or not a girl is hot,” she says, squirming. “I like boys.”
Robin smiles smugly, pulling her legs to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “That’s obvious .”
“Okay, fine,” Nancy relents. “Since I clearly have no taste, enlighten me. Why is Demi Moore hotter than Molly Ringwald?”
“For one, she’s like… the girl next door,” Robin says. “And her hair is amazing . She’s got this sultry stare. Come on, Nance. Even a straight girl should be able to see this stuff.”
“I do see all of that,” Nancy replies, frowning, looking at her thoughtfully. “I just think I prefer shorter hair on women.”
Robin raises an eyebrow, looking at her friend skeptically.
“What?” Nancy asks.
“Nothing,” Robin mutters, shaking her head, the corner of her mouth raised. “Do you think those twerps left any pizza?”
“Probably not,” Nancy replies. “But if there is any left, bring me a slice.”
“Fine,” Robin says, pushing herself off the bed
She walks to the door, looking back toward Nancy, who’s flipping through the magazine that started the hot girl conversation. She sighs before walking out of the room, shutting the door softly behind her.
The Wheeler household is almost unnervingly quiet for the amount of people currently within its walls; the only sound is an occasional giggle from Holly’s room.
“Creepy little kid,” Robin mutters under her breath, walking down the stairs.
She expertly dodges the squeaky stair four steps from the bottom and pads her way to the kitchen. Karen looks up from the crossword puzzle in front of her, jumping when she sees Robin standing there.
“Sorry,” Robin says sheepishly. “I was just checking to see if there was leftover pizza.”
“You’re fine, Robin. I didn’t hear you come in,” Karen replies, blinking the surprise out of her face. “Uh, the boys haven’t brought anything up, but you can check with them in the basement. They should have something left, their order was outrageously expensive.”
“Um. Okay. Thanks,” Robin replies, backing out of the kitchen and turning on her heel to scurry through the living room to the basement door.
The door creaks as she opens it slowly. One of the boys giggles, but the sound stops quickly. Unphased, she continues down the stairs, her footfalls muffled by her socked feet. She nearly trips when she makes eye contact with Will, holding himself over Mike on the couch.
“Sorry!” she says, covering her eyes and falling backwards. Her butt hits the stair behind her and she starts sliding down. “Shit!”
Will scrambles off of Mike running toward her, leaving him wide eyed on the couch. He sits up, his hair sticking up in odd places, a pink flush high on his cheeks
Robin comes to a halt at the bottom at the same time that Will gets there, reaching toward her in a useless attempt to stop her from falling.
“Are you okay?” he asks, giving her a sympathetic smile when she accepts his outstretched hands.
“Yeah,” she replies, letting him pull her to her feet. “I only hurt my ego.”
Mike stands shakily from the couch, looking nervous. “We, uh. That wasn’t–”
“Dude,” Robin says, cutting him off, clearly more concerned about herself than whatever she interrupted. “Let’s just all forget any of that happened. I just wanted to know if there was any pizza left.”
“Oh,” Mike says, the fight going out of him.
Will moves quickly, turning to grab one of the pizza boxes from the coffee table. He thrusts it toward Robin, the embarrassment finally hitting him. He keeps his eyes trained firmly on the floor.
“Thanks,” she says, accepting the box. She rocks on her heels looking between the two of them, tapping on the box mindlessly. “And, uh. I didn’t see anything.”
She turns, scrambling out of the basement, leaving Mike and Will staring after her. The door clicks closed behind her. She leans back against the door and looks down at the pizza box incredulously.
“Huh,” she breathes. “That explains a lot.”
“Who’re you talking to?”
“Jesus!” Robin yells, turning to glare at Holly. “Where did you come from?”
“The kitchen,” she tilts her head, her pigtail braids brushing against her shoulders. “Mom said you were getting pizza from Mike and Will.”
“Oh, yeah,” Robin replies, opening the box.
Holly reaches forward, grabbing a slice. She takes a bite, watching Robin curiously.
“Were you talking to yourself?” she asks. “I do that sometimes. Mom doesn’t like it. Dad doesn’t care much.”
“I was talking to myself,” Robin says, taking the path of least resistance.
Holly nods, apparently waiting for further explanation. Robin laughs uncomfortably and takes a step away.
“I’m going back up to Nancy’s room,” she says, maintaining eye contact with Holly until she’s fully out of the room. “Creepy little kid.”
She practically runs the rest of the way to Nancy’s room, unwilling to have another uncomfortable encounter with one of her family members. When she gets back into the room, Nancy is lying on her stomach, engrossed in an article.
“I have no idea how you live with so many people,” Robin says, grabbing a slice before tossing the pizza box onto the bed.
“You get used to it,” Nancy replies, sitting upright. “What took you so long?”
“Have you ever heard of Murphy’s Law?” Robin asks, her mouth full.
“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong?”
“Yeah,” Robin says, swallowing audibly. “That.”
“Oh god,” Nancy giggles. “What happened?”
“Your family is just like… a constant jumpscare,” she says. “My parents are never home. I’m not used to people being everywhere.”
Nancy tilts her head, reaching forward to grab a slice of pizza. “They aren’t exactly… quiet.”
Robin hums. “They were today.”
“Murphy’s Law,” Nancy replies sagely, sending them both into a fit of laughter.
The room is dark when Hopper opens his eyes; the bed is cold. He sits up, glancing out the window, noting the moonlight streaming in through the haze hanging over Hawkins.
The world is silent, devoid of summer insects for the second year in a row. He throws the thin comforter back and looks around the neat room. Nothing seems to be out of place, save for the absence of the dingy slippers Joyce loves.
He climbs out of bed, shuffling to the door. When he steps into the hallway, the house is dark. Slowly, he feels his way into the living room.
On the other side of the room, light filters in from the kitchen. There isn’t any noise, but there’s a smokey, acrid scent hanging in the air. He huffs and walks slowly to the doorway, knocking lightly to keep from frightening her.
She looks up, smiling sleepily at him. “Hey, Hop.”
“Morning,” he replies, making his way to the table and settling in across from her. “It’s early.”
“Yeah,” she mutters, ashing her cigarette. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“You wanna talk about it?” he asks, reaching forward to retrieve his own cigarette.
Joyce stares down at the table, tapping her fingers against the table. “It’s… I guess I don’t really have a reason. Jonathan said something last night that was… unsettling.”
“What do you mean? What did he say?” Hopper asks, leaning forward, smoking escaping from his mouth.
She looks at him, frowning at his stiff, serious demeanor. “We were talking about Hawkins being safer than living in a van…”
He nods, shifting closer in his seat. Joyce tilts her head, furrowing her brow.
“And he just said that disasters weren’t unheard of here. Mentioned not knowing what’s going on in the Upside Down,” she finishes slowly. He doesn’t respond right away, looking at the smoking cigarette between his fingers. “Is there something we should be worried about?”
“No,” he says quickly, schooling his expression into nonchalance. “Nope. Everything’s fine. Kid’s probably just worried about nothing.”
“Right,” she says skeptically. “You’d tell me if there was something going on, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he replies, taking a drag from his cigarette and looking away from her face. “Why wouldn’t I?”
She shrugs, putting out her cigarette. “I don’t know… I just have this feeling that something’s off. You and Jonathan have both been a little weird lately.”
“Everything’s fine, Joyce. We’re just tired,” he says comfortingly. “Did Jonathan tell you they found mushrooms?”
“Yeah,” she replies, trying to sound excited. “Yeah. That’s a good thing.”
“It is a good thing. How’s Max doing with her therapy stuff?” Hopper asks, leaning back in his chair, decisively changing the subject.
“Physical therapy?” Joyce asks, studying his body language carefully. He nods and she continues, “Good. Evelyn said she’s progressing faster than they thought possible.”
“See?” he says. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re almost at the end of this.”
She nods, unconvinced but unable to find a fault in what he’s said. Things do seem to be going well.
“Hey,” he says gently, reaching across the table with his hand upturned. He waits for her to slide her hand into his before he speaks again. “The kids have that game—”
“Dungeons and Dragons.”
“Right,” he says. “Anyway, we’ll have the house to ourselves…”
“I can’t,” she says, pouting at him. “I promised Karen I’d help her go through her basement.”
“Couldn’t Mike and Will help her? They’re over there all the time,” he mutters, put out.
“Probably,” Joyce says, lighting another cigarette. “But Karen asked for help.”
“Will you please hold my hand?” Will asks, frowning at his boyfriend in the front seat. Both of Mike’s hands are wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. “I miss you.”
“I’m right here,” Mike replies, not taking his hands off of the steering wheel.
Will sighs, leaning back heavily in the passenger seat; he scans Mike’s face, the stiffness in his jaw, the way he refuses to look over.
“Mike,” Will says softly, begging for attention with his tone. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine,” Will replies. “Is this because Robin walked in on us?”
“Don’t say it like that,” Mike groans, shoulders tensing.
“Well?” Will presses. “Is it?”
Mike shrugs, tearing his eyes away from the road to look at Will. “I don’t know. Kind of?”
“Pull over,” Will says abruptly, pointing to a dirt road surrounded by trees. “Over there.”
“What?” Mike asks, slowing down. “Why?”
“Just do it, Mike,” he insists. “Please?”
He obliges, pulling his car off of the main road onto the uneven side road. The car comes to a stop once they’re no longer visible from the road. Mike parks the car and reaches between them, offering Will his hand.
Will threads their fingers together, rubbing a gentle circle against Mike’s thumb. Will waits until his boyfriend relaxes, the corners of his mouth upturned, his eyes locked on Will’s lips.
Will leans forward, kissing him quickly, grinning when Mike pouts at him.
“I’ll kiss you again when you tell me why you’re being weird,” he says, pulling away to sit properly in his seat again.
“I’m not being weird,” Mike argues.
“You wouldn’t even hold my hand a few minutes ago, Mike,” Will mutters. “Robin said she wasn’t going to tell anyone. I don’t even think she saw much.”
“Yeah,” Mike says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I know. It’s just. I don’t know, I guess I hadn’t thought getting caught was possible.”
Will smiles at him sympathetically, squeezing his hand. “You’re scared.”
He laughs. “Shut up, Will.”
“I’m scared, too,” Will whispers, leaning forward conspiratorially.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Will confirms. “But Jonathan knows. He doesn’t care. Eddie and Max, too.”
Mike swallows hard, looking down at their joined hands. “I know.”
“The world sucks. Most people suck,” Will says. “We’ve always known that.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” Mike asks, laughing half-heartedly.
“Yeah, just give me a minute,” Will replies, reaching over to flick Mike’s arm. “Anyway, even though most people suck, we have each other. We have our friends. Probably more of them than we think.”
Mike bites the inside of his cheek, nodding in acknowledgement.
“If you don’t want to hold hands while we’re driving anymore, we don’t have to. I understand if you want to lay low for a while,” Will says after a moment, trying to extract his hand from Mike’s.
“No,” Mike says, tightening his grip. “No, I want to. Sorry. I was just… in my head.”
“You can talk to me about anything,” Will replies, smiling at their conjoined hands.
“I know. You’re right. I’m scared,” he admits. “I’m sorry. I should have held your hand.”
“Quit apologizing,” Will says, crowding into Mike’s space again, grinning when his eyes flutter shut. “Kiss me.”
Mike closes the short distance between them, pressing his lips firmly against Will’s, unmoving.
“Mi—” Will begins to say, getting cut off by the onslaught of Mike’s mouth, insistent against his.
He gasps; Mike takes the opportunity to move in closer, running his tongue along the seam of Will’s lips. Will is helpless, letting his mouth fall open and threading a hand through Mike’s hair, tangling his fingers in the silky strands.
Mike reaches down, unbuckling his seatbelt and sliding across the bench so their thighs are touching. Their hands still clasped together awkwardly between them. He reaches over with his free hand to grab Will’s hip.
Will licks into his mouth, making a muffled noise. His hand tightens in Mike’s hair, pulling his head backwards. A moan claws its way from Mike’s throat.
The noise is cut short, the horn honking and the hazard lights flashing. Mike shoots back to his own side of the car, dropping Will’s hand, chest heaving, mouth open.
The horn stops almost as quickly as it began, leaving them both sitting in an awkward silence.
“Sorry,” Will mutters, his face bright red.
“It’s okay,” Mike replies, his voice low and rough. He clears his throat. “We should probably stop, anyway. Get you to the lab.”
“Yeah,” Will says breathlessly. “You’re right.”
They’re quiet as Mike gets them back on the main road. Will keeps his eyes firmly on the barren landscape passing them by.
When the road is smooth and open, Mike reaches over, pulling Will’s hand from his lap. Will glances over at him, a shy smile on his face.
“I love you,” Mike says, tightening his hand as he speaks.
Will grins back at him. “I love you, too.”
The ground shakes, the atmosphere filled with the grating sound of rocks sliding against one another. El stands, arm out, face contorted, in front of the earth slowly zipping itself back together. Her nose starts to bleed as she steps forward, hyperfocused on the fissure in front of her.
As she mends the ground, pieces of dirt and rock ricochet at her, bouncing off of the hood of her hazmat suit. Her hand begins to shake and the ground stops moving.
She drops her hand, taking a deep breath as she steps forward, ignoring the scientists behind her telling her she’s done enough. They try to assure her that she can take a break, that they can head home for the day, but she walks forward, stopping at the edge and peering into the crack.
Something moves inside, making a horrible squelching noise. She squints, leaning in closer, trying to make out the creature just below the surface.
Suddenly, its head snaps up, looking at her with sunken, empty eye sockets. She gasps, falling backward as the ground begins to bubble open, the thin layer separating the Upside Down and Hawkins stretching.
It breaks open with a swift, sickening pop. The creature's long arm appears, its claws digging into the earth as it pulls itself out of the ground.
El scrambles to her feet, moving away from the creature, but keeping her eyes locked on it. The monster’s head appears, its gray, skeletal face looking even more ghastly under the overcast sky.
She casts a quick glance over her shoulder, the scientists retreating to their vehicles; Hopper is walking toward her slowly, leading a small group of men armed with flamethrowers. She shakes her head, signaling for them to stay where they are before turning her attention back to the creature.
It’s nearly out of the ground now, pulling itself above the surface with its long arms. El watches in horror as it pulls itself to its feet, towering over her.
She takes another short step back, making her stance wide. The monster’s empty eyes seem to be trained on her, sizing her up. It lifts its hand, stopping short of El.
Her breaths come in short, shallow gulps as she remains still. After an excruciating minute, the monster pulls back and slinks away, following the fissure toward the center of town.
Hopper runs forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her back. “Come on,” he says, his voice eerily calm, his eyes locked on the creature moving slowly away. “You did good, today.”
El nods, allowing herself to be pulled away. She resists asking questions about the creature, sensing she won’t get the full answer if she does.
“You exit the cave, stepping onto a rocky beach. Dark storm clouds hang heavy in the sky. In the distance, you hear rumbles of thunder,” Eddie drawls, drumming softly on the table. “The water is nearly black and still, except for a few ripples from the wind. There is nothing but water as far as you can see.”
“I don’t understand,” Steve says, looking around the table. “We’re here, the city should be here.”
Erica frowns, chewing on the end of her pencil as she stares at her character sheet. “Can I take a closer look at the water? Something’s off.”
“Roll for perception,” Eddie says, his face devoid of emotion.
Erica tosses her d20, the die stopping, “18” face up. She looks at Eddie triumphantly, expectantly. Something that looks like pride flashes across his face, but he plasters a serious expression there before speaking.
“You look out across the water, far below the surface there’s a faint glow. The light is broken occasionally by large, dark forms swimming by,” he says.
“Shit.”
“What?” Dustin asks, looking over at Erica, who’s seated beside him.
“The city’s underwater,” she says, like it should be obvious.
“Is that what these potions of water breathing are for?” Steve asks, pulling his attention away from his character sheet to glance at Eddie.
“I don’t know,” he replies, smirking at Steve. “What do you think?”
Steve frowns at his character sheet. A rustle goes around the table as everyone riffles through sheets of paper.
“We’re going to have to go underwater,” Mike groans, slamming his pencil on the table.
“Hold on,” Will says, skimming through his notes. “There’s something swimming around in the water, right?”
“Yeah,” Erica replies, glancing at Eddie. “I assume so. Why?”
“Aboleths,” Lucas mutters, sounding worried.
“I’m sorry,” Max says, turning toward El, her ponytail swinging. “Aboleths?”
“Sea monsters,” El replies. “Mean ones.”
“The drow you guys ran into in the cave were talking about them, right?” Robin asks from where she’s lounging on the couch, her feet in Nancy’s lap.
“That they were,” Eddie confirms.
“There’s no way we can get into another fight right now,” Dustin says. “I can’t heal everyone.”
“Maybe we should check the perimeter,” Will suggests. “If it’s secure we should be able to take a long rest.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” El says.
“I’m with her,” Steve agrees.
“So…” Dustin says. “Perimeter check and then a rest?”
“Sure,” Eddie says. “Everyone roll perception.”
Seven dice clatter onto the table, everyone leaning over to note their rolls. Eddie glances around, scoffing at Lucas’s low roll.
“Well,” he says, smiling at Erica. “Thanks to our incredibly perceptive cleric, you find a small cave in the side of the mountain. It’s large enough to accommodate your entire party, should you choose to rest there.”
“All in favor of resting there?” she asks. The entire group gives their ascent. “We take a long rest.”
“That brings us to the perfect stopping point for this session,” Eddie says. A collective groan goes around the table, but he shushes them. “It’s almost midnight. I’m exhausted.”
“Eddie, this is my house,” Steve says. “You can’t kick them out.”
“No,” Eddie agrees, looking seriously at Steve. “But I can end the session. I’m in charge here. Help me clean up.”
Steve ducks his head and straightens his papers. Mike pushes himself back from his chair, trying to hide his smile when Will follows suit.
“Where are you going?” Eddie asks, an eyebrow raised.
“Cigarette?” Will says, glancing over at Mike.
“Perfect,” he replies, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll come with.”
Mike gives Eddie a tight smile and starts to lower himself back into his seat. “It’s okay, actually,” he says. “I can wait.”
“Nah,” Eddie insists, standing and walking toward the garage. “Let’s catch up.”
Begrudgingly, Mike and Will follow Eddie. Steve stands to follow them, but Eddie stops him with a sharp shake of his head.
“Finish cleaning up first,” he says before opening the door, letting Mike and Will slip into the garage past him. “If it weren’t for me this place would be a pigsty,” he mutters under his breath as he closes the door behind him.
Will sinks into a blue camp chair, frowning when Mike opts for the chair across from him. He watches as Mike pulls a cigarette from a beat up pack, the name barely legible. He shoves the cigarette in his mouth before patting his pockets, looking for a lighter.
Will reaches into his pocket, producing one. He waves it in Mike’s direction, a crooked grin on his face. Mike stands, crossing the room and leaning over Will, letting him light the cigarette. He takes a few long drags from it before placing it between Will’s fingers and taking the chair next to him.
“You two are gross,” Eddie says, smiling at them as he lights his own cigarette.
“Shut up,” Mike mumbles, his face red.
“I’m kidding,” Eddie promises, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “Why’d you guys bail so fast Sunday?”
“We, uh,” Will starts.
“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie laughs. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to help me with this new campaign idea I have.”
“Oh, hell yeah,” Mike says, snatching his cigarette back from Will. “We’d love to. Right, Will?”
“Sounds fun,” Will replies, stifling a yawn.
“We’ll talk about it Sunday,” Eddie says, smiling at Steve as he walks through the door to join them.
“Everyone’s leaving,” Steve mutters, still holding the door open.
“Bye, everyone!” Mike calls from his seat, refusing to move.
There’s a chorus of goodbyes from the living room as Steve lets the door fall closed. He shakes his head when Eddie offers him the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket.
“Where’s your brother?” Steve asks, taking the chair Mike vacated earlier.
“I don’t know,” Will admits. “He said he had something to do tonight.”
Joyce sits on the old, worn sofa in Hopper’s cabin. The renovations are nearly complete; it still lacks proper windows and most of the furniture has seen better days. A fine layer of dust has collected over every surface, a result of unintentional neglect.
A candle casts light over the room, the electricity still cut off. She glances down at her watch, cursing under her breath. It’s nearly midnight.
“Where the hell is he?” she asks the empty living room. She stands, crossing the room to peer through the boards covering the front window. In the distance, she sees two headlights approaching. “Finally.”
The car, a white work van without windows, pulls up in front of the cabin. She watches, waiting for the driver to get out. The vehicle shuts off, the headlights dying. She squints, realizing there are two people in the front seat instead of the one she was expecting.
Both doors fly open; Joyce jumps back, reaching down to grab a two by four from the ground. She pushes herself back into the shadows, holding her breath as the handle of the front door wiggles.
After a moment, it opens slowly, stopping.
“Shit,” Jonathan’s voice says. “Someone’s here.”
“Oh hell no, man,” Argyle replies. “We gotta go.”
“Jonathan?” Joyce asks, stepping forward, ignoring the way he jumps at the sound of her voice. “What are you doing here?”
“We, uh. Mom?” he says, letting the door open completely, revealing Argyle behind him, holding a heavy looking backpack. “What are you doing here?”
“She already asked you that,” Argyle reminds him. He looks at Joyce and smiles at her innocently. “Sorry, Miss Byers. I just got in. We wanted to talk without waking anyone up.”
“That’s fine,” she says, glancing between the two of them, then toward the road behind them. “I was just…”
Jonathan turns, looking out at the road. “Were you expecting someone?”
“Uh,” she says.
“Why do you have that plank?” Argyle asks.
“I–”
“Wait,” Jonathan says. “No, there’s someone coming.”
“Where?” Argyle asks, turning around, squinting down the road. “Oh. Would you look at that.”
“I, uh,” Joyce stutters, dropping the wood and stepping forward to join the boys at the door. “You guys should head back to the house.”
Jonathan turns toward her. “Mom?” he asks softly. “What’s going on? Who is that?”
“No one,” she promises. “Really, go home.”
“No,” he says defiantly. “What’s going on?”
A white van, incredibly similar to the one Jonathan and Argyle just climbed out of, ambles up the long dirt driveway. The three of them stand, watching as it pulls up and parks. The driver cuts the lights and swings the door open, two worn boots hitting the ground.
“Is that–” Jonathan starts.
“Hi, Joyce,” Murray says, slamming the door, squinting at Jonathan and Argyle. “Why didn’t you tell me we were going to have company?”