Chapter Text
The air in Hawkins was always different, it carried a comforting eeriness only those who’d experienced had truly known. Maybe it was the solace that loomed over the small town, the tight-knit community that cowered behind the blinds anytime anything remotely intriguing occurred, it was a cadence that no other place you’d lived in could quite replicate.
It was the sort of no-name hometown that’d be featured in a documentary about some gruesome conspiracy or an unforeseen tragedy, though everyone knew it lacked that thrill. Perhaps it was that same normalcy that made you miss it so much.
“I think we could use the reset, back to our roots, y’know? It’ll be so refreshing to just,” she sighs, drumming her thumb against the wheel, “relax and… not have to worry about upstairs neighbors and traffic.”
After about 7 different moves, different towns, faces, her optimism could be suffocating.
“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be nice.” You agree like its second nature.
“You’ll see your friends again too, Lucas, Dustin.. Michael, was it?”
“Mike.”
She snaps her finger, “Right, Mike! Wow, you haven’t talked about him in ages. What ever happened to that pen-pal thing you had going?”
Your head sinks into the car seat headrest at the reminder of those stupid letters. Thankfully, a quiet melody on the radio kept the silence at bay when you went quiet.
You shrug like it was nothing, “I don’t know, he never wrote back after a while.”
She hums in easy acknowledgment and rolls down the window for a deep breath of the breeze, a habit she picked up on during your third or fourth move, she claimed it helped her 'acclimate to a different environment', though you were sure she’d read that off of some pamphlet at the doctors office and decided to brand it as her own.
You really did wonder why he stopped. You had convinced yourself that they lost themselves in the mail and it was all some big misunderstanding, but a lie like that only got you so far.
Your thumb feels for the camera on your lap, its weight providing a strange comfort. It seemed to be the only consistent thing, photography. You wouldn’t even call it that, you just took pictures of things you thought would look cool pinned in your wall.
It’d been a while since you’ve seen them, actually, your pictures. You lean over the cup holder to reach for your backpack in the backseat, pushing your mom’s coffee cup into the plastic claw desperately clinging to it.
“Easy, easy!” She scolds lightly and glances from the road to the cup, her hand feeling for it to keep it in place.
“Shit, sorry, sorry, sorry.” You quickly brush it off and finally grasp at a strap, pulling it carefully over the space between the passenger and drivers seat into your lap with a shaky exhale.
She loosens her clutch on her coffee and leans her elbow over where the car window should be. “You could’ve waited till we stopped for gas again.”
You say nothing and unzip your backpack, shoving your hand in blindly until you felt that familiar film, but you didn’t. Your brows furrow and you check the mesh pockets on the sides, only to find a yellowish chapstick and some bobby-pins with some hair stuck to them.
“Mom, did you see where I put my pictures?” You murmur while taking out some books from your backpack; maybe you didn’t look hard enough. She hisses and grimaces.
“Gosh, I don’t know. I hope we didn’t leave them in Cincinnati.” She says, rubbing at her chin while thinking. Surely you hadn’t, you’d probably kill your self if you lost all those memories because you were incompetent and forgot. She shakes her head, “We’ll have to check at the next stop, maybe you put them in the trunk?”
You sigh in defeat and fall limp back into your seat. “Yeah, maybe.” You hope.
You push your backpack between your knees and rest your hands over your camera lens cap, thumb brushing the initials you’d carved into the leather the same christmas you received it. It was a fuzzy memory now, but impossible to fully forget.
Your gaze follows the tall trees just out of reach, rushing past your car. You missed this part of Indiana, the vast forest between a towns, it wasn’t artificial or forced, it felt right. More right than the parks you’d visit back at home, which were living off of community service and park rangers when they weren’t being littered and shredded to bits for some new memorial.
You’d finally hear the crickets again, gosh, you took Hawkins for granted.
You took your friends for granted too. You’d made more than you could count between moving places despite your reluctance to get close to anyone. You quickly learned that attachment led to a pain that no remedy could cure. But your friends back in Hawkins, they were always more to you than some silly label.
The station wagon comes to a halt as your mom drives into a forgettable looking pit stop, making you perk up; you were practically glued to the passengers seat and you were convinced you permanently lost all feeling in your feet.
While your mom drags herself inside, you crackle as you step out of the car, arching your back with a wince, leaning against the top of the car. You look over to the opposite side of the road, the dense forest sat across the gas station, would’ve made for a great shot. The sun was rising, it slipped through the spaces between the branches and made for pretty lighting.
Instinctively, you duck your head into the car and reach for your camera, screwing off the cover. You raise it to your eyes and squint, your fingers finding their place on a few select buttons, your index and thumb turning a dial to emphasize the focus to the trees. Blink, shutter, done.
You look at the view finder for a second with a gnaw at your lip, hopefully you captured the vision and not some blunder of color and light.
You supposed you’d wait until you had to develop them. Oh, right, the pictures! You set your camera back onto the passengers seat and rush to the trunk. It was chilly out, your jacket sleeves were bunched at your elbows as you carefully maneuver your way through the bags and boxes perfectly arranged to fit into the trunk.
Dry leaves crackle against the asphalt, gathering around your slippers. You spot a familiar ziplock bag tucked into a valley between two boxes, making your heart skip. You quickly reach for it and a grin settles on your face.
“You find ‘em?” Your mom’s voice rings out as you stare at the bag, you nod.
“Yeah.” You reach in and pick some out, your smile faltering upon seeing some overexposure on the film. They definitely weren’t like that before.
“Mom, did you mess with my stuff again?” You groan and begin to shuffle through them. She shakes her head, her hand resting on her hip while filling up the tank. “Why? What happened?”
“The film’s all ugly. Man.” You shut the trunk abruptly and stare at the pictures. “Could’ve been the sun.” She suggests, looking over your shoulder.
“I might’ve neglected them too long, yeah.” You huff and lean your elbow against the car, cheek resting on your palm. Your once crisp memories were fading, all because you failed to make sure they were at your side the entire time. Normally you’d carry that baggy in your pocket 24/7, but it seemed your priorities had changed.
Maybe you were overthinking it, they were only photos after all.