Chapter Text
Finney Blake woke up in a panic, frantically glancing around the unfamiliar room, expecting a figure waiting for him in the shadows.
That’s when he remembered. Hawkins. He was in Hawkins now.
“Why don’t we move out of this place?” His dad had suggested about a week ago, after a particularly bad nightmare. “There’s nothing tying us down here, a fresh start could be good.”
Finney pulled himself off of the soft, warm mattress. He stretched and grabbed Robin’s bandana, tying it around his head, avoiding the mirror at all costs.
He was still scrawny from his time in the basement, but that wasn’t what made him evade the sight of himself.
It was what the grabber had done to him…
His hands on Finney… everywhere… no… stop… don’t.
“Finney?” Gwen peaked her head through the doorframe, snapping Finney out of the flashback. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Finney lied, not wanting to worry her.
Gwen nodded skeptically, not fully believing him but not prying either. She had already tried that, and even her stubborn self had realized that she wouldn’t be able to get Finney to talk before he was ready.
Finney sighed, running his hands through his hair anxiously. “I’m just… nervous for the first day,” He said, which was partially true.
“It’ll be better here,” Gwen said gently. “Nobody knows what happened.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Finney said slowly.
“C’mon, we gotta eat breakfast now or we’ll be late.
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Finney walked into the door to his homeroom, head down.
His homeroom teacher, Mr. Clarke didn't miss a beat.
“Okay class, let’s all welcome the newest passenger on our curiosity voyage! Dustin, drumroll please!” A curly haired boy with missing teeth in the front row began to drum on the desk in front of him. “All the way from Denver, Colorado, Finney Blake!” Mr. Clarke finished the introduction with a flourish.
“Mr. Blake, you can sit there in the second row next to Will. Will, can you raise your hand for me?” A shy looking boy tentatively put his hand in the air.
Finney mumbled a thank you to Mr. Clarke and made his way over the the seat.
Will smiled slightly in Finney’s direction, and Finney smiled back.
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Lunch came quickly, and Finney walked across the cafeteria, tray in hand. All of the tables seemed full, so he nervously sat down at an empty table on the side, what seemed like a safer choice.
He picked at the school lunch, having lost his appetite for what was probably one of the first times since the basement at the prospect of eating what looked like radioactive waste.
He felt someone tap him on the shoulder, and he jumped and whipped his head around, expecting a man he knew but didn’t believe was dead…
But it was just Will.
Will must have noticed the panic in his eyes because he smiled reassuringly and said, “Just me, Finney.”
Finney nodded mutely, breathing deeply as the therapist in Denver had told him to do.
In and out. In and out.
“We were just wondering if you wanted to sit with us?” Will asked quietly, like he wasn’t sure if the words coming out of his mouth made sense. He gestured to a table where the drumroll boy and two other boys from his homeroom laughed and joked.
“Yeah, thanks,” Finney smiled gratefully.
He picked up his tray and approached the other table slowly, sitting down .
“Hey! Finney, right? I’m Lucas,” One of the boys held out his hand.
Finney took it hesitantly.
“Mike,” The dark haired boy spoke from the other end of the table, nodding his head slightly in recognition of Finney’s existence. Mike abruptly jumped and yelped, “Ow! What was that for?”
“Don’t be rude,” Will glared at him from across the table.
“I’m not!” Mike muttered indignantly.
Finney laughed along with the other party members.
“So Finney,” Dustin said. “What brings you to our town of Hawkins? New people don’t come very often.”
Finney blinked. He should have prepared an answer for this. Of course people were going to ask. They were just being polite. “Um…” He said hesitantly. “Some stuff… happened. We needed a fresh start.”
Stuff. Great way to describe being kidnapped and kept in a basement for a week. Great way to describe what happened to Robin, to all of the other boys who didn't make it. great way to describe the blood on Finney's hands...
The party seemed to realize all at once that it was a sensitive subject, and they continued jabbering about an assortment of random things that all came together with a sort of flow that Finney couldn’t help but be a little jealous of.
It reminded him of how he’d been with Robin.
He kept picking at his unappetizing lunch.