Chapter Text
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly in Hawkins, Indiana. Please return your seats and tray tables to their upright positions…”
A sharp breath escapes. Outside, Hawkins spreads beneath the plane.
I turn over my shoulder, gazing out the window at the town I grew up in. How long has it been since I’ve visited here anyways? Must have been two years. I wish I could visit here more often, but plane tickets are expensive these days, and Mom insists I use my breaks from NYU to visit her and Hopper in Montauk. I’ve never really thought about coming back here anyway. There are a lot of things I want to leave behind. Plus, being away from here calms my nightmares, which I got a lot of for the few months I stayed here after graduation.
“Babe,” a hand drifts over my forearm, gently. I smile on autopilot.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, meeting Carlton’s tired eyes.
“Were you sleeping? We’re here.”
“I know,” My arm stiffens. He doesn’t notice.
I feel awful.
Carlton insisted on joining me on my flight to Hawkins, telling me how much he wanted to see the people I grew up with. That only made me more hesitant. Not only do I have to face my hometown and my childhood friends, but I also have to bring along my boyfriend. The one I don’t have the guts to break up with.
And the worst part of it is that I don’t even know why I want to break up with him.
He’s been sweet and totally accepting of me. He encourages me when I want to give up on a painting two hours before the deadline, brings me Reese’s when I’m stressed, and comes over to my dorm constantly to shower me with kisses and sweet words.
But something in me feels dissatisfied every time I’m with him. It makes me feel almost greedy, or selfish. Carlton is good-looking, he’s kind, and his hair is better than the average guy’s, so I shouldn’t feel this unfulfilled, right? Any guy would be lucky to have someone like him in this day and age. Especially someone who’s different like me. So why don’t I feel that way?
“Will?”
He’s standing over me now, one hand closing the stowaway, and the other carrying our bags.
“S-sorry, I’m a little carsick—or airsick. Or—”
The corners of his mouth lift awkwardly.
“Nevermind,” I mutter as I stand. “I can take it.”
I reach for my leather bag, but Carlton just hoists it over his shoulder and smirks.
“I’ve got it, babe. Let’s go.”
He squeezes through the aisles and I follow, feeling embarrassed by the prying eyes on the plane.
Not that anyone is looking, anyway. But for some odd reason, I have the feeling that anytime I go out, people are looking at me. Ever since I started going out with Carlton, I’ve felt sort of exposed, like people know what I am and are watching me, waiting for me to do something they can call out. And anytime Carlton tries to hold my hand or graze my arm when we’re out in public, I feel automatically judged. He tries to be discreet about it, and I know no one can see it. But I can, and somehow that makes it worse.
Finally, walking through the terminal, my legs regain feeling, even though they still burn. It was a three-hour flight, and I hadn’t stood once. I could barely sleep.
Carlton snored through the whole flight, and all I could do was watch the clouds pass in and out of my window. I only managed to doze off about thirty minutes before we landed, purely from exhaustion, and I definitely didn’t get a full eight hours. I know it’s going to bite me in the ass later, but right now I’m running off post-flight adrenaline.
“Where’s that Mickey kid going to pick us up again?” Carlton asks, his head twisting in every direction.
“It’s Micheal, and he—”
Shit. Mike is picking us up.
How did I forget that?
I know I haven’t seen him in two years, and I know that I told myself I was over him. But even at our D&D game after graduation I caught my heart still fluttering at his eyes looking into mine. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this with Carlton, now, but I know that if I see Mike right now, it’s going to set my heart into psychosis.
Mike insisted we were still best friends, and I really want to believe that, but what kind of best friend doesn’t keep in touch for two years? Twice!
The last thing I would want is for things to be… awkward between us.
“And he… what?”
I snap back to reality. Carlton stares at me with his head tilted, expecting an answer.
“O-oh, in lot B7. He should be there by now,” I answer as I flip my wrist around and study my watch. It’s ten-thirty in the morning. Mike agreed to meet us at ten. So he should be waiting there by now. “Hey, let me carry my bag,”
I reach again for my bag that’s hanging over Carlton’s shoulder, pulling it from him before he can protest.
“I’ve got it,” I send another smile his way, which seems to brighten his almost-defensive look.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Carlton whispers, throwing his free hand over my shoulder as we leave the airport.
B5.
B6.
B7.
No car.
“Strange,” Carlton mutters, stealing my wrist to glance at my watch. “Your buddy should be here by now. Where is he?”
“I… I don’t know…” I scan the parking lot. Surprisingly, it’s completely bare, with only empty cars scattered in the parking spots.
“Let’s just sit and wait. He should be here soon,” I respond sleepily as I take a seat on a metal bench. I release my bags and let my head fall back and my eyes shut. But then I open them again for two reasons.
One, because if I fall asleep now, I’d make a fool of myself when Mike does show up.
Two, because Carlton wouldn’t stop asking me if I’m okay or why I’m tired and then he’d probably lecture me that I should have gone to sleep on the flight.
I clear my throat and straighten myself out.
“Hey, Byers. Are you okay?”
“Sure, why?” I answer, meeting Carlton’s eyes reluctantly. They bear the weight of a concerned grandma when she notices you didn’t eat much at dinner.
“I dunno, you’ve just been quiet all through the flight and ever since we landed. Is there something you’re thinking about?”
His warm hand slides up my leg slowly, and I tense again.
“I-I’m fine, just—I’m okay.” I rest my hand atop his in an attempt to reassure him, and it must have worked because his worried eyes return to their normal state, and the corners of his mouth lift up gently.
“Good,” he mutters as he shifts closer to me. I swallow hard.
Now his hand traces the shell of my ear and buries into my hair, his other around my neck.
“You know, you look so cute right now,” he whispers before leaning in.
Before his lips can meet mine, I place a careful hand on his chest. He seems to catch on and chuckles lightly.
“No one’s around Byers. It’s alright,” he smiles once more before successfully meeting his lips to mine.
The taste of Carlton’s mouth is familiar, but not particularly exciting the way it was the day we first met. I was drunk, and I’m sure he was too, and all I could taste was wine and spit, which somehow managed to be sweet. My mind was a blur that night, and when I woke up in his bedroom the next day, I convinced myself this was love. You usually see what it’s like when a girl and a guy fall in love in movies and books and that sort of thing. But I don’t think it’s the same for guys. They have to be more careful, more obscure. So maybe instead of meet-cutes in parks, they meet in bars or somewhere dim and loud. At least, that’s how it felt for me.
Carlton’s body presses to mine and his hands navigate over my back and my chest. I should at least try to mimic his passion, but I just can’t. The most I do is hold onto his leg and hope he doesn’t notice my eyes are wide open and that I feel like crying.
And tears do threaten to fall when Carlton’s tongue traces my lip and attempts to enter my mouth, but I hear the hum of an engine and l pull away quickly.
Mike!
Through the car window he seems to be facing ahead. I can’t tell if he saw me and Carlton like this, but then again how could he not? I just have to hope he didn’t.
“Shit, is that him?” Carlton asks, standing and grabbing his bags in one swift motion.
“Yeah,” I mutter, grabbing my own bag. “I think it is.”