Chapter Text
──────────
A toaster springs to life, launching two slices of over-toasted bread from its hold. The sharp sound blends seamlessly into the chaotic morning of the Verstappen household. Glass cups clink against porcelain plates as Charles rushes to set the table. Grease pops loudly from a sizzling pan, creating a trail of splatter on the stovetop.
“This Charming Man” by The Smiths blasts from Oscar’s room down the hall, the muffled bass rattling the walls of their tiny home. Thunderous footsteps add to the symphony as an 11-year-old Ollie races out of his bedroom towards the mouth-watering smell of crispy bacon.
Max adjusts the collar of his navy blue overalls in the living room's mirror. “No running!" he voices with a twinge of amusement when Ollie zips past him as if he’s competing in the Olympics.
Ollie throws out a “Sorry, Dad!” and plops into his seat at the table.
Charles scoops a spoonful of eggs onto Ollie's plate. “Good morning, sweetheart.” He plants a kiss on top of Ollie’s curls. “Go get your brother, please.”
Ollie smacks his teeth. “But I just sat down-”
“Don’t argue. We eat as a family. Now, go. And tell him to turn down that music.”
Ollie pouts and grumbles, but keeps his comments to himself. He all but stomps towards Oscar’s door. He raises a small fist, obnoxiously banging it against the wood. “Oscar! Breakfast is ready! Hurry up! I’M STARVING!”
Max enters the kitchen, shaking his head at their son’s dramatics. He and Charles learned long ago to embrace the craziness in their family. Yes, their mornings are loud and a little (a lot) hectic, but it’s theirs. Their home, their boys, their family, their love. No one can ever take that away from them, no matter how much they’ve tried.
“Morning, baby.” Max steals the dirty pan in Charles’ hands and places it in the sink. He snakes his arms around Charles’ waist from behind, dipping his head into his neck.
Charles smiles lazily, gently chiding, “I was going to wash that.” He exhales softly, bringing a hand to the back of Max’s head.
Max peppers kisses along Charles’ neck. “Don’t worry about it.”
"I’m a father and a husband. It’s my job to worry, hon.”
Husband. The word still brings butterflies to their stomachs.
It had been a private ceremony – only their sons, Charles’ father Sebastian, and Max’s mom in attendance. But that’s what made it even more special. They’d been surrounded by love, surrounded by those who truly believed in their union. Because the unfortunate truth is that not many people did.
Though society’s become more…tolerant of gay people over the years, talks of their marriage is very much taboo. It isn’t official, it’s not acknowledged by law, and there’s no telling if it ever will be.
The bible thumpers say it’s sacrilegious, a mockery to the sanctity of marital unions. Others have even harsher views, like Max’s dad who’d referred to them as ‘two queers playing house.’ That’s the last either of them have spoken to Jos Verstappen, and they’re not rushing to make amends.
Max grabs Charles’ hand, the one dawning the shiny silver band on his ring finger. He raises it to his lips, kissing it with reverence. “The dishes can wait. They won't grow legs and run off to a new family.”
Charles throws his head back, eyes crinkling in laughter because Max will forever be the funniest person he knows.
They’re in the middle of sharing a sweet, intimate kiss when their sons enter the kitchen.
“Bleh,” comes Oscar’s monotonous drone. He takes a seat across from Ollie. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”
“Ha, ha,” Charles says sarcastically. “Just wait until you fall in love.”
Ollie murmurs into his cup, “He already has.”
It’s too low for their parents to catch, but Oscar does. His foot nudges Ollie emphatically under the table. He raises his brows with beady eyes that say ‘please, stop talking.’
The family digs into their breakfast, conversations ping-ponging from school projects to work deadlines to weekend plans. Charles scolds Ollie for chewing with his mouth open. Oscar snorts behind his hand. Max complains about his dreaded morning drive. Ollie begs to go to the new arcade in town. Charles makes no promises.
“Oh, I almost forgot.” Oscar pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and slides it over to Charles. “Papa, can you sign this?”
It’s a permission slip to tour some college two hours away. Charles scans the details with laser-focused precision. “Why so far?”
Oscar shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s just a tour. I’m not committing to anything, yet.”
“Yet,” Charles hums. “Why don’t you check out the community college? You’d be closer to home.”
Oscar grimaces. Hawkins is the last place he’d ever want to be once he graduates.
Max takes a moment to read over the permission slip. “I’ve always said you’re a big fish in a small pond.” He reaches for the pen in his front pocket. “He deserves to get out, Charles. See what the world has to offer outside of Hawkins.”
“You say that now,” Charles murmurs. “You’ll be the one crying the most when he leaves.”
Max doesn’t deny it. He signs the slip in black ink and slides it back to an appreciative Oscar.
As breakfast nears its end, Ollie becomes less and less talkative. When Charles tells him to grab his backpack, Ollie mopes. “I’m not feeling well.”
Charles flits his eyes to Max with a knowing look before returning back to Ollie. “No, we’re not falling for that again. You’ve already missed too many days this year. You have to go to school, dear.”
Ollie visibly deflates. His downcast eyes avoid Charles’ sharp gaze. He wrings his hands anxiously, words barely above a whisper. “But they’re mean to me.”
Oscar turns to his brother, concern clouding his hazel eyes. Max and Charles lock eyes in another silent conversation. They’ve gone up to the school multiple times about these ‘mean’ kids, but nothing’s ever been done about it.
Max leans across the table and brushes a light thumb across his son’s hand. “Kids tend to be that way sometimes, don’t they?” He gets no response from Ollie. “How about this. After dinner tonight, we can work on the car. Just you me.”
Ollie brightens with eyes as wide as saucers. “Really, Dad?”
He’s been obsessed with cars ever since he was a toddler. One of his favorite memories is sitting at the mechanic shop watching Max work on an old station wagon. It was a day where no one was available to babysit young Ollie. Max’s boss was cool with him bringing his son as long as he didn't touch anything. Max felt bad at first thinking Ollie would be bored the whole time. But it ended up being one of the best days of his life.
“It’s a school night,” Charles points out, and the excitement fizzles just a smidge.
“I won’t keep him up too late,” Max promises. “We’ll be done before 10. Right, Ollie?”
“Right!” Ollie nods eagerly. Then he stops short, correcting himself with a forced sadness in his voice. “I mean, that’s if Papa agrees.”
Three sets of puppy eyes from Max, Ollie, and Oscar land on Charles. Oscar even throws in a pouty lip for good measure. Charles glances around the table with practiced patience before rolling his eyes.
He tells Max, “You’re waking him up in the morning.” He refuses to deal with a sleep-deprived Ollie.
──────────
The Verstappens live on the outskirts of Hawkins, too far for any school buses worthy of the trip. Max leaves for work in his '76 Ford Pinto and Charles uses their spare '70 Ford Maverick to run errands. Ollie and Oscar hop on their cruiser bikes and set out to town.
Biking fifteen minutes to school isn’t ideal, but the boys have never complained, especially Oscar. Unlike his little brother, Oscar knows much more about their family’s financial woes than he lets on.
There’s a reason why they live so far from town. A reason why he and Ollie haven't gotten new school clothes in years. A reason why their papa insists on cutting their hair himself instead of taking them to a salon.
When Oscar turned sixteen, he knew getting a car was out of question. Max was already working overtime, and Charles’ part-time job at the local diner barely covered the cost of groceries. And it's not like the money Oscar saved from his summer job at Scoops Ahoy would get him anywhere anytime soon.
His parents had been more disappointed than he was. “You worked so hard to get your license, son. You deserve it,” Max had told him.
Oscar spent most of that day convincing them that he was fine. He didn’t need his own car. He and Charles could share the Maverick. Besides, nothing beats biking through the countryside with his little brother.
Music blasts from Oscar’s Walkman radio, headphones cupping only one of his ears to remain alert. The spring breeze wisps through their hair. The heat radiates from the sun, warming their skin. The smell of fresh water fills their noses as they ride past Lover’s Lake. They pass by Mr. Stevenson’s dairy farm, mooing back at the cows in the pasture.
It’s a great way to start the day – good scenery, good vibes, and a chance to catch up with Ollie without their parents around to dissect every word.
They’re within the city limits when they take a short break at a crosswalk. Oscar turns off his radio and rests his headphones on his neck. He glances at his brother, thoughts swirling in his eyes.
After Ollie takes a sip of water, Oscar nudges him and asks unassumingly, “So… what’s going on at school?”
The light at the crosswalk then turns green and Ollie sets off without a word. Oscar follows closely and tries again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having a hard time?”
“I tried.” Ollie flatly relays. “You’re always too busy with Lando.”
Heat immediately blooms across Oscar’s face. “There’s nothing going between us.”
Ollie smiles slyly. “Didn’t say there was.”
Oh.
“But just so you know, you guys make it very obvious. I mean, you invite him every weekend to ‘study-’”
“We do study-”
“Yeah, human anatomy. Or was it physical education-”
Oscar coughs out a surprised, “Ollie!” Ollie snorts, which turns into a full blown laugh that Oscar echoes. “I guess we weren’t very subtle, were we?”
They turn onto a street that leads directly to the middle and high school. Ollie does a quick look around to ensure no one is near. Then asks, “So, is he like…your boyfriend?”
Oscar’s eyebrow twitches. “No.”
Ollie crinkles his nose in question. “But you like him.”
An involuntarily smile graces Oscar's lips. “Yes.”
“And he likes you?”
“Yes.”
“And he’s not your boyfriend?” Ollie’s face contorts as if he’s been asked to solve the quadratic formula. “Teenagers are weird.”
Oscar huffs a humored breath. “That, we are.”
“But I don’t understand, Osc. If you like each other, but you’re not together, what does that make you?”
Oscar sighs, dimming his smile. “I don’t know.”
To be honest, Oscar has absolutely no idea about his and Lando’s relationship status. Between making out under the bleachers and sneaking into each other’s windows late at night, they haven’t found the time to squeeze in the conversation. A part of Oscar is afraid to.
Oscar clears his throat. “Look, just so we’re clear. I’m never too busy for you, bear. Whenever you need me, I’m here. Ok?”
Ollie smiles warmly, meeting his brother’s sincere eyes. “Ok.”
They’re almost to Hawkins Middle when Oscar asks, “What do they say to you, anyway? The mean kids.”
Ollie’s slow to answer, distracting himself with the squeal of his pedals. Oscar’s patient though and allows his brother the time to collect his thoughts. “They think it’s weird that I have two dads.”
There’s a tightness in Oscar’s chest. His grip tenses on his handle bars and he rolls his bike to a stop.
Oscar wants to say he’s shocked at the revelation, but he’s not. He’d lived through it himself his first year at Hawkins Middle. Thankfully, his resting poker face was enough to keep most of the bullies away. But Oscar still remembers how isolating it was, how the kids would call him names, how they’d ask him “where’s your mom” and he’d never have an answer.
Curiosity got the best of him one night and he’d asked Max about her. His dad had been hesitant, settling for a censored version of the truth. They’d met in high school and had Oscar at a really young age. She took off one day, leaving Max as a single parent. For a while, it had been just Max and Oscar – “two peas in a pod,” his dad had called them. And then Max met Charles and a two-year-old Ollie.
Oscar hadn’t learned much about his mother in their short conversation, but he kind of preferred it that way. He couldn’t even begin to imagine their lives without Charles and Ollie.
Oscar remembers being so ecstatic when Max sat him down at a park and explained how he and the nice man – Mr. Leclerc – liked each other, how they wanted to be a family, and how Mr. Leclerc’s son would be his little brother.
Even before meeting Ollie, eight-year-old Oscar made a promise to his dad that he would always look after him.
Oscar clasps a supportive hand on Ollie’s shoulder. He leans down so they’re eye-level. “They’re idiots, bear. Idiots. Don’t listen to them.”
“It’s hard not to when I see them every day.”
“Yeah,” Oscar acknowledges, rubbing a comforting hand along Ollie’s arm. “I know. But you don’t have to go through this alone. Like I said, you can talk to me whenever. I’ll listen.”
A slow grin spreads on Ollie’s lips. “Even if you’re studying with Lando?”
Oscar stifles a laugh. “Yes, even then. Just give my door a knock and I’ll kick him out. Deal?”
Oscar holds out his pinky which Ollie accepts. “Deal.”
“Oh, by the way. Please keep the Lando thing between us. Dad’ll freak if he finds out and I really don’t want to start leaving my door open three inches.”
It’s a rule Max had introduced as soon as Oscar reached high school. If he ever gets into a relationship and the person visits, he’s to leave his bedroom door open no less than three inches.
Technically, Oscar’s not breaking any rules considering he’s not even sure if he can call what he and Lando have a relationship. But it’s better to be safe than sorry.
“Hmm,” Ollie ponders, stroking an imaginary beard. “Only if you take me to the arcade this weekend in exchange for my loyalty.”
Oscar narrows his eyes in consideration. “You drive a hard bargain, little brother.”
They shake on it nonetheless.
After dropping Ollie off at the middle school, Oscar bikes over to the adjacent high school with a few minutes to spare. He walks the halls, ignoring the hushed whispers and smug smirks from the students as he passes along the way. It’s not until he reaches his locker that he sees what the buzz is about.
Amongst the row of identical lockers, one stands out. Written across in bold red paint is the word ‘QUEER’ followed by multiple exclamation marks. Oscar squeezes his eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he breathes deeply to drown out the voices around him.
Ollie was wrong, Oscar thinks. Teenagers aren’t weird – they’re brutal.
Yes, Oscar’s experienced his fair share of bullying in middle school, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the war zone of high school. It began with snide comments about his hand-me-down clothes and basic haircut. Then it was the fact that he rides a bike to school because he’s too poor for a car.
Those are stupid and petty things that he can deal with. But once students caught wind of who his parents were, Oscar's own sexuality became the butt of many unfunny jokes.
His jaw clenches. Just a few more months, he reminds himself. He just needs to put up with this for a few more months before he graduates and leave this bigoted town for good.
His eyes snap open when he hears the creak of the locker beside. It’s Alex Albon, one of few students that’s tolerable at this forsaken school.
Alex eyes his locker with a disappointed shake of his head. “I tried to get to it before you got here.” Oscar notices the can of paint remover in Alex’s hand. “They’re dicks.”
Oscar sighs tiredly and shrugs off his backpack. “It’s whatever.”
Alex looks like he has more to say, but decides against it. He sets the paint remover on the floor in front of Oscar’s locker. He gives a curt nod and a polite smile. “See you in second period.”
Oscar puts in his combination and throws his locker open, carelessly chucking the paint remover inside. He’ll deal with it later.
He frustratedly searches for his science book in the cluttered locker, but what he finds instead melts all of his tension away. A yellow sticky note in recognizable handwriting reads:
Meet me in the gym at 12
- L
Oscar bites back a grin as he reads over the words a few more times. He crumbles to note and tucks it deeply into his pocket before grabbing his science book and heading off to class.
──────────
There’s very few places that feel like a home away from home for Max, and the mechanic shop is one of them.
The sharp fumes of diesel fuel and motor oil hit him as soon as he steps into Christian’s Auto Repair. Max always found the name ironic given that the owner is the furthest from a saint. But when Max was just a young, single dad trying his best to provide for his son, Christian was the only person willing to give him a job. So he feels indebted to the man in a sense.
Max has been in love with cars his whole life. It’s one of few topics he and his father could discuss without the conversation turning sour.
A wheel gun goes off in one direction. A car jack lets out a metallic creak as a Chevy is lifted. A staticky radio plays the latest pop hits, adding to the shop’s hectic noise. Mechanics dressed in matching blue overalls greet Max as he makes his way around to see where he could jump in to help.
“Verstappen!”
Max is leaning under the hood of a car, hands lined with engine oil and black soot when he hears his Christian’s disgruntled shout.
“The new guy quit on me.”
Max wipes his hands on a nearby rag. “Probably because you wanted him to work the whole floor on his first day.”
Christian chooses to ignore that. “I need you to cover tonight's shift.”
“I can’t. My family-”
“There’s no one else I trust to fix up this car by morning.” Christian leans close with a lowered voice. “This client is very important to us, Max. We can’t afford to disappoint him. And of course, you’ll receive ample overtime pay. I’ll double it. I’m sure your family will understand.”
Max is at a crossroads. Working late means he won’t be home in time to work on the car with Ollie. Disappointing his son is the last thing he wants to do. But with how tight they are on money, Max isn’t left with much of a choice.
──────────
Charles strolls down the aisle of a grocery store, forcefully pushing against his shopping cart’s faulty wheel. He glances down at his list, crossing off the items he’d already placed inside of his cart. He heads over to the cereal aisle and picks up two boxes – Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Frosted Flakes – wondering which one his kids would fight over the least.
As he weighs his options, he overhears a conversation from two women down the aisle. He feigns ignorance, discreetly leaning his head in their direction. The grocery store has been and always will be the best place to catch up on the town’s gossip.
“It’s getting scary,” the blond woman expresses with a note of fear. “This is the second disappearance in three weeks. Something weird is definitely going on around here. I can feel it.”
“Do you think a killer is on the loose,” her friend asks, just as terrified.
“I hope not. Chief Sainz says there’s nothing to worry about, so I guess we’ll just have to take his word for it.”
Charles’ brows pinch in a frown. He hasn’t heard about there being any disappearances. It’s highly concerning considering his kids are often out on their bikes. How come it hasn’t been mentioned on the news?
The word of the Chief of Police – Carlos Sainz, Sr. – doesn’t bring Charles any comfort. He hasn’t had good experiences with the cops in Hawkins ever since he got busted spraying graffiti on abandoned houses with the Chief’s son when they were teens. Now as an adult, Charles still feels like there's a target on his back.
The beep of his pager grabs his attention. His heart drops seeing the string of numbers ‘7673’ followed by ‘25’ and ‘143.’ Charles pieces the message together:
Late. Sorry. I love you.
He exhales and runs a stressed hand through his hair. It’s not the first time Max has had to miss dinner because of work. However, explaining to Ollie that he wouldn’t get to work on the car tonight is a battle Charles would rather avoid.
He tucks his pager away before throwing both boxes of cereal into the cart.
──────────
The boys’ locker room is cold and damp, but Oscar has never felt warmer pressed up against Lando. Their kisses echo in the empty room, wet lips gliding in a dance. Oscar breathes through his nose, skin tingling with excited nerves. His hand tightly grips Lando’s letterman jacket as his other hand splays on the back of Lando’s head to deepen their kiss.
Lando groans and swipes his tongue across Oscar’s mouth before it enters. The kiss grows hungrier by the minute, heads alternating from one side to the other in a smooth rhythm. Lando rests a hand on Oscar’s waist, guiding him back before pressing him against the cement wall. Oscar’s trapped, but there’s no other place he’d rather be.
Their hearts thud in sync like a soundtrack to their secret rendezvous. When Lando grinds the front of his pants against Oscar’s, Oscar breaks the kiss in a gasp. He and Lando lock eyes, their labored breaths ghosting over each other’s lips.
Lando smiles shamelessly and rests his forehead on Oscar’s. He nips at Oscar’s bottom lip. “Your lips are so soft.”
Oscar gives a lopsided grin, eyes half dazed. “Lip balm. You should try it some time.”
Lando exhales a laugh that brushes across Oscar’s face. “I’d rather steal yours instead.”
He dips his head low and claims Oscar’s lips once more, quieting the thoughts that had been swirling in Oscar’s mind since his conversation with Ollie. Who knew middle schoolers could be so insightful?
Lando moves to kiss Oscar’s neck, freeing up his lips for the time being. Oscar’s eyes flutter shut. “So,” he tries. “I’ve been thinking.”
Lando smirks against his neck. “Thinking good or thinking bad?”
“Good…I think.” A nervous laugh escapes as Oscar rests his head against the wall. When Lando meets his eyes, he says, “It’s just that we’ve been doing this,” he gestures between themselves, “for a while.”
A while meaning since two summers ago when they made out in the breakroom at Scoops Ahoy.
Lando sighs fondly at the memory. “Yeah, we have.” He moves back to kiss the sensitive spot on Oscar’s neck.
Oscar shudders, but doesn’t lose focus. “And I was just wondering if we’d ever be anything more than…this.”
Lando hovers over Oscar’s Adam's apple. His playful boyish charm is gone, replaced with something close to panic. “Oscar. You know we can’t.”
Oscar’s eyes narrow. “No, I don’t actually. I don’t know anything because we never talk about it.”
“Oscar.” Lando slumps forward. “Please don’t make this more than it is.”
Oscar lets out a humorless breath. “And what is it? Secret hookups in the locker room? Lying to your friends about who you’re seeing every weekend? Flirting with cheerleaders right in front of me like I don’t exist-”
“Oscar, I can’t, ” Lando repeats. “I can’t be like you. I can’t be…out.”
Oscar dips his head with a hard swallow. “I’m not asking you to come out, Lan. I would never force that on you. I just need to know you feel the same as I do. That I’m not the only one that wishes we could be together. Like a real couple.”
Lando’s voice wavers with a plea in his eyes. “You should know, Osc. You should already know how I feel.”
“How do you expect me to? Honestly.” Oscar folds his arms, a careful edge in his words. “The only time you talk to me is when no one is watching. How am I supposed to know how you really feel about me when you never say it?”
Lando couldn’t meet his eyes, and Oscar suddenly feels colder despite their close proximity.
There’s a truth on the tip of Lando’s tongue. He’s afraid – afraid to make things official, afraid that they’ll get too comfortable and slip up and someone would find out about them, which would do neither of them any good in Hawkins. The basketball team would probably make up some excuse to kick him out. Oscar’s bullying would only get worse. No, Lando couldn’t allow that.
Oscar waits and waits but never receives an answer. He rubs his palms thoughtfully against Lando’s letterman jacket. “It’s because of your friends isn’t it?” Then it dawns on him. “Wait, did your buddies do that shit to my locker?”
Lando recoils at the memory of what had happened earlier that morning. “I’ll talk to them about it.”
Oscar tsks. “Like that’ll do anything-”
“It will. It won’t happen again, Osc. I promise.”
Oscar doesn’t believe it, but he softens anyway. He runs a hand down to intertwine their fingers. “You didn’t answer my first question. Are those dumb jocks the reason why you’re afraid to be serious with me?”
“I’m not afraid.” The look on Oscar’s face tells Lando he knows that’s a lie. “Look, it’s not just about my friends. My parents, they– they aren’t as accepting as yours are. If they even suspect that I’m…you know…”
“Gay?”
“Bi,” Lando corrects. “I don't even want to think about what they’ll do. My cousin got sent away to conversion therapy camp. Conversion therapy, Osc. What if my dad does the same to me?”
“Or,” Oscar leads optimistically. “What if he accepts you?”
“I can’t be sure of that.”
That saddens Oscar more than anything. He can’t imagine his parents ever disowning him for his sexuality, not because they’re gay themselves, but because Max and Charles have always been supportive of him and Ollie. Oscar knows he lucked up on having the most loving parents, but sometimes he forgets that not all parents are that way.
It doesn’t help that Lando’s dad is the mayor of Hawkins and is currently running for re-election. Coming out would most certainly hurt his dad’s campaign.
Oscar brushes a thumb against Lando’s cheek. “I get it, Lan. I do. I’m just saying-” They’re interrupted by the sound of the bell, signaling the end of lunch period. Oscar sighs dejectedly. “Let’s go before we’re both late.”
When he moves to grab his books, Lando stops him with a tug on the wrist. He presses their chests together before kissing Oscar sweetly. Oscar instantly relaxes, wrapping his arms around Lando’s shoulders.
Lando whispers, “Please be patient with me, ok? I-” He pauses in hesitation, then presses forward. “I really like you, Oscar. And I want us to be good.”
The vulnerability in his voice along with his puppy eyes has Oscar weak at the knees. He smiles shyly. “We’re good.”
──────────
Dinner’s quite the opposite of their chaotic morning. The home is eerily quiet, the only sound coming from metal utensils scraping against ceramic plates. It’s storming, rain pelting against the kitchen window. The yellow-orangish light hanging above the table flickers as thunder rumbles boisterously outside.
Charles leans his head atop folded hands as he looks around the table. Oscar nibbles on a piece of chicken breast that Charles accidentally cooked too long. Ollie somberly pushes around the peas on his plate. Charles’ eyes travel to the empty chair across from him where Max should be sitting. Eating without Max never feels right.
“We eat as a family,” Charles had told Ollie that morning. He’d hoped that Max would be able to make it home at a decent time. But as the night stretched on, Charles could no longer prolong dinner for his boys.
Charles reaches for his pager as Oscar asks, “Papa, can Lando come over again this weekend? There’s this huge chem test we need to study for. It’s worth like half of our grade.”
“Yeah, sure.” Charles gives a flippant wave, barely paying attention as he looks at the last message from Max: ‘607.’
I miss you.
The message came when Charles was in the middle of dinner prep. He’d been too annoyed to respond, but he wishes he had.
He checks the clock on the wall, noting the late hour. Even if Max does miraculously walk through the front door, it’s nearing Ollie’s bedtime.
“Oliver,” Charles addresses his youngest. The sadness in those big brown eyes is like a knife in Charles’ chest. He plasters on a smile. “Your father really wishes he could be here. He was looking forward to working on the car tonight.”
Ollie rests his head on the table. “I don’t care anymore.”
Charles’ smile wanes. Oscar tries to lighten the mood by telling cringy jokes that usually get his brother to laugh, but nothing works. Ollie eventually heads to bed, barely touching the food remaining on his plate.
“Should I go talk to him?” Oscar asks once Ollie’s door closes.
“No, leave him be.” Charles wraps up Ollie’s food and places it in the fridge for later. “Your father and I will talk to him in the morning. Now, off to bed.” He kisses Oscar’s temple, shooing him off as his son grumbles about being too old for a curfew.
It’s nearing 11:30 when Charles settles into bed. Charles curls up on Max’s side, struggling to keep his eyes shut. At some point, his pager goes off and Charles springs up to check the message on the tiny screen: ‘209’.
Max is on his way home and Charles finally allows himself to relax and drift to sleep.
──────────
Keys jingle in the night as Max locks up shop. In his haste, he knicks his finger on a switchblade carelessly dangling on his keychain. Max hisses at the sharp pain before licking the wound.
It’s approaching midnight when he finally hops into his car. He’s sore, exhausted, and so damn hungry. But all he wants to do is see his boys and curl up in bed next to his husband.
Hawkins is a ghost town at this hour, so it doesn’t take long to leave the city limits at the speed Max is driving. He turns on his high beams once he reaches the dark countryside. He yawns widely, one hand on the wheel as the other rubs at his eye.
That’s when it happens.
Out of nowhere, a large dark figure dashes across the road right in front of him. Max’s reaction is delayed and he hits the figure head on. He jerks his steering wheel into place, swerves between lanes, tires screeching before he pulls over to the side of the road.
He breathes heavily, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He doesn’t understand what just happened. He cranes his neck to look out the back window. There’s nothing. He looks ahead, still unable to make out anything on the dark road.
He steps out of the car and walks towards the front to see a busted headlight and a huge dent on the hood.
“What the fuck,” he utters, examining the damage. The size of the dent leads him to believe he hit an animal. Maybe a deer. It’d happened so fast, Max wasn’t able to get a good glimpse.
He looks around again, swiveling his head every direction but not finding anything. The road is clear. It looks as if nothing happened aside from the tired marks from Max’s dinged up car.
His attention goes back to the headlight. “Work all day just to spend money again.” Max doesn’t even want to think about how much it'll cost to fix this.
Suddenly, a guttural roar cuts through the air that sends the coldest of chills down Max’s spine. He looks in the direction of the noise and spots an unrecognizable creature darting towards him full speed.
Max races to the driver's door, yanking it open and slamming it shut. His trembling fingers fumble between his house key, work key, then finally his car key and jams it into the ignition. He floors it, wheels spinning against the pavement before launching the car forward.
Trees and grassy plains blur in Max’s periphery. He dares to glance into his rearview mirror, eyes widening when he sees that the creature is right on his tail. His heart drops into his stomach as he gets a good glimpse of it – black leathery skin, slender frame, jagged teeth, sharply clawed hands and feet. Even scarier are the bright, glowing eyes staring right back at him.
Fear floods Max’s chest. His heartbeat pounds loudly in his ears. He prays to whoever’s listening to please let him see his family again.
In a flash, the dark creature jumps over Max’s car, landing right in front of him on the other side. It bears its teeth in another loud roar as Max’s car comes barreling towards it.
Max stomps on his brakes but loses control of his steering. The car swerves off road into a large field, mowing through the overgrown grass before slamming head first into a tree.
A loud ringing fills Max’s ears. His vision blurs. Time seems to stall as if Earth stopped spinning. His heavy breaths echo in his head. Blood drips down his temple, leaking onto the deployed airbag. Smoke billows from under the hood, clouding the car in a disorienting haze.
He’s delirious, unaware if it’s day or night. But one thing that remains clear is his need to get home. He still needs to fix up the car with Ollie. He still needs to go hiking with Oscar. He still needs to work on the garden with Charles. He can’t leave Charles to raise their sons alone. He needs to find his way back home no matter what.
A pained groan bubbles from Max’s throat. He throws his door open and a sharp pressure shoots up his limbs. Before he can crawl out, the driver's door is suddenly ripped from the hinges with unbelievable force. Razor-sharp claws sink into Max’s arm, and the silent night fills with a scream of agony.
In the blink of an eye, Max and the creature are gone, leaving only his wrecked car behind.