Chapter Text
“Okay, today's the day,” I explain to Carlton, my boyfriend sitting to the left of me.
It’s mid-afternoon, and we just landed in Indiana from Wisconsin, about to deboard the plane, “I know my family and friends can be kinda…well, odd…but they mean well, trust me, they’ll love you,” I reassure him, knowing I’m reassuring myself too.
“I couldn’t be more excited.” Carlton gently places his hand on mine, making sure none of the other passengers notice.
Today is the first time since graduation that I’m going back to Hawkins to see my friends, to see him. This time, it’s not just for a few days like usual, but for the entirety of our perfectly lined-up spring breaks and what just so happens to be my birthday, which is tomorrow.
For some reason, this time just feels different. I’m not sure why, but it feels like there’s a pit in my stomach. But this isn’t about me; this is about Carlton, my loyal boyfriend of almost three years. Introducing him to my friends is a big step in our relationship, and I have to make sure nothing ruins it.
Carlton stands up and brings down our Jansport backpacks from the overhead bins, “So this Mike guy.” My heart sinks. “He’s picking us up from the airport, right?”
“Oh, um, yeah.” I utter, trying to stabilize my voice, “He flew in yesterday, and he offered to pick us up.”
“Remind me again how you know him?” Carlton asks me, handing me my backpack. “I know I’ve asked so many times, I just can’t get all of them straight in my head.”
“Oh, yeah, he was my best friend,” I stand closely behind Carlton in the plane’s aisle, and throw my backpack over my shoulders, “we kinda did everything together when we were little. Going to different colleges just made us grow apart, I guess. But I can’t wait to see him again. I really do miss him; I miss all of my friends, for that matter. We're staying at his house for the week, remember? I think we’re gonna be in the basement,”
“Oh, right.” Carlton starts heading for the plane exit, behind the line of people, “Well, I’m excited to meet everyone in your hometown. Including this ‘Mike’. He sounds important to you.”
“Yeah,” I admit, looking at the floor of the airplane, close behind Carlton in the line, “he is important to me.” I put my thumbs between my chest and the straps of my backpack and exit the plane.
At the baggage carousel, the pit in my stomach feels like it's increasing in size. I shift my body closer to Carlton, shoulder to shoulder, feeling comfort in his presence. His fingers intertwine with my own, our hands hidden by our puffy jackets.
“So,” Carlton looks down at me, his brown hair almost covering his deep brown eyes, “am I gonna meet Max, Lucas, and Justin today?”
“It’s Dustin,” I groan. Carlton has not once remembered his name, no matter how many times I’ve told him.
“Damnit! Why can I never remember his name?” He exclaims, putting his palm to his face. “Dustin, Dustin, Dustin,” He mutters under his breath.
“And to answer your question, no. They’re staying at Lucas’ place since his sister still lives there, so they’re spending their afternoon with her. You’ll meet all of them tomorrow, on my birthday.” I clarify.
I notice our shared luggage making its way around the carousel in our direction. I release Carlton’s hand, heading for our blue, hardshell suitcase when Carlton lightly pulls my arm back, walking in front of me, “Don’t worry, I got it.”
He rolls the suitcase along the floor in my direction, a proud, sarcastic smile imprinted on his face. I laugh, “Thanks for ‘coming to my rescue’,” slightly nudging his side with my elbow.
He flexes his muscles, “You see these bad boys? How could I not put them to use?” He continues to flex, casual enough for people not to notice.
“No, stop,” I laugh, looking around, embarrassed, “Put those down! People are looking.” I push his arms down to his side, and we make our way to the pickup zone, where Mike is waiting.
The airport is mayhem. The dense crowd of people makes it nearly impossible to find where we’re supposed to go. Carlton and I pave our way through the groups of rowdy teenagers and fighting families, finally reaching the double doors that lead outside to the pickup zone.
I scan through the rows and rows of cars, seeing strangers reunite with their family and friends, patiently waiting for my turn.
After looking through the cars for about a minute, I finally see him.
Mike is leaning against the backseat door of his red Ford Taurus. He's wearing an unbuttoned mustard yellow long-sleeve flannel layered over a plain white shirt. His black belt is holding up his baggy denim jeans, his hands in his pockets. His hair still has the same messy, grown-out look, but his face looks more mature. Of course it does, he’s 21 now. His trunk is already propped open, ready for our luggage.
I make eye contact with him, and his demeanor instantly shifts, and his posture straightens. I notice his facial features shift, and his eyes brighten. Oh good. He’s excited to see me, too.
He gestures for Carlton and me to come to his car. I take a deep breath, easing the unwanted nerves in my stomach. What am I so nervous about? He is just my best friend.
My best friend.