park. forehead. park. forehead. blood.

he squinted at her sleeve, then at her face, then at the park behind her like it might suddenly provide subtitles.

“okay,” he said slowly, holding one hand up. “so either you want me to go to the park and think really hard… or the park made your nose bleed with its mind, which, frankly, in hawkins? not impossible.”

he glanced at the blood again. “lemme see.” he gestured toward her nose, waiting a second to make sure she wouldn’t bolt or poke him again before leaning just a little closer. just looking.

“okay, still bleeding, but not, like, horror-movie bleeding.” he nodded more to himself than to her. “that’s… manageable.”

he took one of the tissues and demonstrated, dabbing under his own nose like a very, very dorky nurse.

“gentle pressure, no dramatic sleeve murder scene.”

then he tapped his own forehead, mirroring her, and pointed toward the park.

“you want me,” tap, “to go there?” point.

he repeated it slower, eyebrows raised, giving her room to confirm or reject.

“okay,” he said. “you don’t wanna call them yet. i get that.” he turned his body a little toward the park, not walking yet, just making it clear he was taking her seriously.

(𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰/ @dustinoutofrange)

𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓘 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓫𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓓𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻.ᐣ 𝓕𝓸𝓻𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻...

The day was enjoyable, as Ollie took Dustin to the arcade to blow off some steam. It had been days since Ollie stood in Dustin’s home, crying and trying not to fall apart because of everything that was happening—the things with Eddie and Billy, the echoes, and all that came with it. Plus, the Upside Down seemed to lurk in every shadow. Her powers were getting stronger each day she used them. It had gotten to a point where her nose didn’t bleed and she didn’t pass out. It was like Ollie was becoming immune to it all, like nothing was going to slow her down—not one bit. As they made their way to the arcade, Ollie opened the door for Dustin. When they stepped inside, she immediately felt that something was off. They were the only ones there. The only sounds were the games and the music softly playing in the background. But for some reason, she kept hearing the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Henry—Vecna. He was trying to reach her. If not in the real world, then in her mind. He had a way of getting into her head, of making her want to obey his every word. Ollie shook her head and looked at Dustin, forcing a smile, pretending everything was okay. But the look on his face told her he didn’t believe her—that he knew things weren’t fine. The neon lights illuminated her features as they stood there. Ollie’s vision began to shift—her present surroundings blending with memories of the lab. A bad memory surfaced, tangled with Vecna’s torment and fixation on her. There had been a time when Henry loved Ollie, and Ollie loved Henry. But when she left him at the lab, everything changed. Ollie felt like Henry had become just like her dad—someone who left when things got hard, who never came back for her, even though he said he would go to the ends of the earth for her.

Guess he was too busy playing the villain to care how she felt. She knew he wasn’t the same person anymore. He was completely different from the boy she had once known. That’s when the lights started to flicker. Her heart began to race. She closed her eyes for a moment—and everything went black. She was in the void. Henry was there, taking control. Ollie felt her body jerk forward as she fell to her knees. Her vision flickered between the void and the arcade, between Henry and Dustin. Why was he here, of all places? Was Henry finally coming back for her? It seemed he was a little too late. Ollie had stopped waiting a long time ago. Her vision went black again, completely consumed by the void. She didn’t know if the echoes were playing tricks on her, but deep down, she knew this was real. Everything inside her screamed at her to run, to find a way out—but she knew it wouldn’t help.

In the real world, her body collapsed to the floor in front of Dustin with a thud. She began convulsing as she lay there. But in the void, she stood still in the darkness. It felt like it was calling to her—almost like a friend. Then she saw him. Henry was walking toward her slowly. Her heart raced faster with each step he took. The sound of that damn clock echoed louder and louder in her mind, ticking endlessly. “Olivia…!” Henry called out as he stopped in front of her. But he wasn’t the same. He looked like himself—but wasn’t, if that made any sense. Ollie froze, unsure of what to do. Should she run into his arms… or scream at him? All she could do was stand there. Stand there as he moved closer, until he finally reached her, extending his hand as if offering it to her—as if she would take it. And Ollie… She let the void take her. She let the darkness consume every part of her. And this time, she didn’t fight it.

dustin had been mid-sentence, rambling about the high score he was going to reclaim on dig dug, when the air in the arcade turned thick and cold. the neon glow of the cabinets suddenly felt sickly, pulsating like a failing heart. one second ollie was there, and the next, her eyes rolled back into her head, and she hit the linoleum with a sound that made dustin’s stomach do a sickening somersault.

“ollie!”

he scrambled to the floor, his knees barking against the hard tile. it wasn't like her usual power usage—there was no nosebleed, no familiar strain. this was different. her body was rigid, convulsing in a way that looked like she was being pulled by invisible wires.

dustin screamed, his voice cracking into a desperate, jagged sob. he looked around wildly. the arcade was empty, the machines whirring and chirping as if nothing was wrong, but the lights were flickering in a rhythmic, menacing pattern.

tick. tick. tick.

“ollie, look at me! stay here, okay? stay in the arcade!” he reached out, his hands hovering over her, afraid to touch her but unable to pull away. he grabbed her shoulders, shaking her gently at first, then with more urgency. “don't go into the dark! whatever you see, it's not real! it’s a trick, ollie! It’s a projection!”

he could see her eyes moving rapidly under her lids—she was seeing something else. somewhere else. dustin’s mind raced through every bit of lore they had gathered on vecna, on the mind flayer, on the lab. He knew that trance look. he knew the signs of someone being hunted.

“i'm right here!” he yelled, his face inches from hers, hot tears blurring his vision. “you aren't alone! whatever he's telling you, he's a liar! he’s just a—a multidimensional parasite, ollie! don't listen to him!”

the flickering lights grew more intense, a bulb overhead shattering and raining glass down a few feet away. dustin didn't flinch. he gripped her hands, his knuckles white.

“ollie, please! come back! don't let him take you!”

but as her body went limp and the convulsing stopped, replaced by a terrifying, hollow stillness, dustin felt a cold dread sink into his bones. she felt miles away, even though he was holding her.

then again at the forehead poke.

then he took the card, eyes scanning it at top speed. and immediately his whole expression changed.

“oh,” he said softly, all the rapid-fire chaos in him dropping down a few notches. “okay. okay, got it.”

he looked back up at her, then at the bleeding nose, then back to the card. “tessa,” he said carefully, “you could’ve opened with the forehead poke thing, honestly. very effective communication strategy.”

dustin folded the card and kept it visible in his hand instead of pocketing it. he gave a small nod, like they’d successfully established diplomatic relations.

“okay. so. new plan. we call your parents, because that is what the official tessa quinn emergency instructions say to do, and i am a rule follower in exactly this one scenario.”

he fished in his pocket for change and a few random objects that absolutely were not useful, then grimaced.

“unless, of course, you have opinions about that.” he paused, then corrected himself. “which—obviously you do. i just mean…” he gestured vaguely. “you can point. or nod. or poke me in the forehead again, i guess. that seems to be one of your things.”

he glanced toward the nearest pay phone, then back at her, staying put so she wouldn’t think he was just going to drag her off somewhere.

The whole future Dustin was painting for them so vividly sounded absolutely amazing. Lucas let out a happy, satisfied sigh. “That’s it!” he shouted enthusiastically. “That’s exactly how it’s gonna go! We’ve suffered long enough, waited long enough, put up with everything and now it’s our time. This is the moment we rise into our new, glorious future!” He puffed out his chest again, looking at Dustin like it was some grand ceremony.

The more they hyped themselves up, the less they could let that poster ruin the mood again. “We should still keep those horrible attempts though,” Lucas said, nodding toward the poster. “Once we’re famous, someone’s gonna buy that and hang it in a museum as high art. Just because we made it, even that ugly crap is gonna get celebrated!” He grinned like a total maniac, still laughing at their terrible drawings.

Lucas’s eyes were practically glowing. “Yes, yes, yes!” he shouted at Dustin’s ideas about how exactly to bring Will and Mike into it. “That’s exactly what we’ll do! The four of us are gonna rule the entire entertainment industry. Every possible medium!”

“YES!” he barked, pointing at lucas like a televangelist who’d just found religion. “that’s the spirit! that is the exact level of insane confidence required to build an empire from a school assignment and a half-functional computer!”

“and i’m not arrogant, sinclair. arrogance implies overestimation. this is just accuracy. i know my worth, i know your worth. combined we’re basically a national threat.”

lucas’s museum comment hit him like a divine revelation. dustin gasped. he clutched the ugly poster to his chest with sudden dramatic reverence. “ooooh my god,” he whispered. “you’re right.”

he held it out between them like it was sacred, instead of a visual hate crime.

“this,” he said solemnly, “is not garbage. this is early work. this is pre-fame henderson-sinclair original material. the kind of thing rich people will stare at in a museum and pretend to understand.”

he pointed at his lumpy planet. “they’ll call this ‘a raw meditation on isolation and desire.’” then at lucas’s tragic excuse for a hero. “that? ‘a bold rejection of conventional masculinity through fractured line work.’” and finally the nightmare princess. dustin had to pause because he was already starting to laugh again.

“that,” he wheezed, “is ‘the inherent terror of longing.’” he completely lost it, laughing so hard he had to bend in half and grab the edge of the desk to steady himself.

when he looked back up, his eyes were practically sparkling. lucas was standing there with his fist up, just as fired up, and for one weird, shining second dustin felt like they were not two teenage dorks in a school project spiral but the beginning of something huge.

he slammed his own fist into the air.

“THE CORE FOUR!” he shouted back. “the party, starpath, total media domination! we make the games, will makes them beautiful, mike makes them dramatic, and then we all get disgustingly rich and buy our teachers houses just so we can evict them!”

he paced once in a tight, excited little circle, too keyed up to stay still.

Will could be fairly certain that the two of them were still the kind of friends that could simply show up at one another’s house without calling in advance. Sure, maybe Dustin wouldn’t be home, but then he could just try Lucas or Mike’s.

Alternatively, he could hang out with Mona if Dustin was busy. Maybe it was odd to hang out with Dustin’s cousin without him, but he’d liked their chat when she came over and brought him a burger. He liked to be the kind of person that could make a person feel less alone. He knew he couldn’t solve her problem of the creepy man lingering outside of her window, but he could at least check in on her.

Will left his bike on the grass, adjusting the shoulder straps on the backpack that he took with him just about everywhere. Then he approached the front door and knocked. He thought he heard something, but to be completely sure, he opened the door just to double check. The cat was quick to investigate the new arrival to the Henderson home, and Will grinned as the little buddy rubbed against his ankles. “Hi,” he said softly, reaching down to give the cat a few pets before straightening and shutting the door behind him.

His attention was immediately diverted by Dustin yelling in a way that he only did when he was flustered or something wasn’t going according to plan. The directions were conflicting, but they’re best friends. Whatever Dustin’s all hyped up over isn’t something that’s going to deter him from helping somehow.

When Will stepped into the living room, he saw the last thing he could have possibly imagined. His eyes widened, taking in the bra hanging off the antenna and the horrified expression on Dustin’s face. An honest to god wheeze escaped him. It quickly devolved into an uncharacteristically loud cacophony of cackles. “Dust—“ He managed to get himself to the arm of a chair before he ended up on the floor. “Dusti—“

in his living room. grinning. laughing.

dustin’s brain short‑circuited. his face went through three distinct phases in two seconds: shock, horror, then nuclear‑level embarrassment that turned him approximately the color of a fire truck.

“WILL?!” he yelped, voice cracking like a dropped cassette tape. “what are you—how did you—WHY?!”

he lunged for the bra like it was a live grenade, yanking it off the antenna with full force. “this isn’t—this was—i was—” he froze, bra dangling from his hand like damning evidence, staring at will who was now wheezing in the chair like a malfunctioning accordion.

he shoved the bra behind his back, cheeks burning, voice climbing into defensive panic. “STOP LAUGHING,” dustin hissed, brandishing the bra like a weapon. “this is a SCIENTIFIC EMERGENCY—IT WAS SCIENCE.”

will’s cackles didn’t stop, and dustin’s shoulders slumped in defeat. he knew that laugh. that was the laugh of someone who’d witnessed his downfall and was never, ever letting him live it down.

“fine,” he groaned, tossing the bra onto the couch. “laugh it up, byers.” he sighed dramatically. dustin pointed at will from across the living room, still red in the face, clutching onto whatever scraps of dignity he had left. “you are never telling anyone about this,” he informed him, voice wobbling between outrage and laughter. “this goes to the grave. if mike hears about it, i’m done.”

the laughing fit continued, and for maybe the first time, dustin didn’t actually mind. because that sound—will laughing like that, loud and real—hit something in him harder than the humiliation did. it had been too long. too many letters, too many almost-conversations on paper. way too much time missing somebody in this quiet way that snuck up on you when you reached for the phone or had a joke you knew only they’d get.

the frantic energy went out of him, leaving something tender behind. he looked at the familiar way will curled into the chair when he laughed, at mews settling into his lap like she remembered him too.

he moved closer before dropping into the chair across from will with a crooked, sheepish little shrug. “yeah, okay,” he muttered, quieter now. “it’s dumb.” dustin looked down at his hands, then back up. “i missed you, you know.” it came out more simply than he meant it to. no jokes or his usual dramatic flourish. just the truth.

for one terrible second, he didn’t know what to do.

then his entire body snapped into motion.

“whoa—hey, hey, don’t move too fast,” he said, hurrying over with his hands half raised. his eyes immediately locked onto the blood. “okay—that's blood. that is definitely more blood than we want coming out of a nose on a tuesday.”

he fumbled in his jacket pocket and after much digging, produced a crumpled wad of tissues. he held them out awkwardly. “here.”

he crouched a little so he wasn’t looming, his expression tight with concern and curiosity in equal measure.

“you good?” he asked, then immediately winced. “no, wait, dumb question. obviously not good.”

his eyes flicked over her face, checking if she looked dizzy, too pale, too out of it.

“can you breathe okay? do you feel weird?”

then, because he was dustin and incapable of letting a moment breathe without over-explaining, “i’m only asking because concussions are a thing, and also this town has a statistically alarming relationship with unexplained injuries.”

he shifted his weight, still holding the tissues out.

Ollie felt tears fall from her eyes. She was just a girl—a girl who kept all her feelings inside until she couldn’t anymore. It was like a dam breaking during a storm, the storm destroying whatever it could. She was the storm. She was the one breaking. She heard Dustin start talking about how it wasn’t her fault and that she was strong—which she really was. She had gone through so much already. She sniffled, trying not to cry, but she couldn’t hold it in. As tears fell, she started to speak through soft sobs.

“You don’t understand… or maybe you do… but this is too much. I can’t risk seeing everyone I love get caught in this. It’s not fair! It’s not fair to Eddie, and it’s not fair to you!” Ollie said, wiping tears from her eyes with her sleeve.

Things were getting bad, and she knew it. Even though it hurt, she would do all she could to remain strong—to do what she should do. Right now, she didn’t know what else she could say or do. It was all confusing to her.

“I know I have you, and that I’m not alone. But with so many people in my life, I still feel so alone. And I’m scared I’ll end up alone with the echoes consuming me further… I know I’m strong, but it’s not enough…”

Ollie said this as she let go of his hand and crossed her arms. A shiver ran down her spine. She had broken apart right in front of someone she viewed as a younger brother. It wasn’t weakness—it was more strength to let go of everything than to just bottle it up like she always did. Dustin knew that about Ollie. No matter how much she swallowed down her feelings, he knew she would eventually spill them. She looked at the ground, kicking the floor softly with the tip of her boot. Then Ollie looked up at Dustin, her glossy green eyes as if tears were ready to fall again.

he watched her and saw the storm raging behind her eyes. then he stepped closer, just to reinforce the idea that he was there for her. always. when he spoke, his voice was quiet. the voice you use when someone’s breaking but you know they’re strong enough to rebuild.

“ollie,” he said, “listen at me.” he didn’t flinch at the tears. “you’re not gonna end up alone. you hear me? not. gonna. happen.”

he held up one finger. “first —nobody’s getting ‘caught’ in anything. eddie? he’d punch anyone who tried to make him leave. me? i’m glued to you. literally. you’re not shaking me.”

two fingers. “second—you’re not weak for crying. you’re strong for not exploding the entire house when you feel like it. do you know how many people would’ve already flipped a car by now? you’re holding it together, that’s strength.”

three fingers. “and third—” he stepped closer, whispering. “the echoes? they don’t get to win, not against you. you’ve got powers. you’ve got a family that would fight literal monsters for you. and you’ve got me—the guy who once turned a radio into a demobat detector.”

“you’re not alone. and if the echoes try to consume you, then we’ll consume them first.”

he tilted his head, giving her a small, crooked grin.

They started imagining an even more exaggarated future full of wealth and fame, and Lucas’s eyes kept getting bigger, practically sparkling with excitement as he pictured it all in his head. He loved this shared sense of over-the-top ambition. “Exactly!” he agreed enthusiastically. “All of a sudden everyone wants to be our friend and wants to know us, but we’re so far above all those losers that we can’t even see them from up there! Everyone who didn’t respect us now is gonna regret it!” It really felt like a huge, memorable, important moment. The game was making seriously good progress, and Lucas genuinely believed it was going to be amazing. “I seriously can’t wait until we can show it to our friends and they freak out over the game and about us. About how brilliant we are,” he beamed.

The poster, though, was still the downside of the whole thing. Their drawings were so unbelievably bad that both boys were doubled over laughing. Tears streamed down Lucas’s face, and he could barely talk because he was laughing so hard. Between fits of laughter, he somehow managed to get a sentence out. “Even the dragon would run away if it saw this princess,” he said, laughing, “the hero would probably have to save the dragon from the princess!”

It was pretty obvious they needed Will, because without him, there was no way they’d pull this off. Lucas finally stopped laughing and nodded seriously at Dustin’s ideas. “Just imagine how awesome it’d be if Will drew a whole comic about our Starpath stories!” he said, getting lost in the thought for a second. But before any of that could happen, they had to deal with the poster for Whitmore first. “Good thing Will would never say no to us,” Lucas stated confidently. “He’ll help us and make sure our genius project doesn’t crash before it even really gets off the ground. And then, the three of us will be totally unstoppable. He can basically stay our creative director forever! We’re definitely gonna need visuals many times in the future!”

“handle me?!” dustin wheezed, clutching his sides. “sinclair, you couldn’t handle me if you came with a user manual and training wheels! i’d have you begging for mercy in a few seconds.”

but the laughter faded into manic glee as lucas matched his wild visions of the future. dustin’s eyes practically glowed.

he leaned in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. “YES. they’ll be crawling to us on their knees. ‘please, mr. henderson, mr. sinclair, sign my lunchbox!’ and we’ll be like, ‘sorry, peasant, we don’t do autographs below CEO level.’”

he mimed flipping his hair like a rockstar. “our families?  loaded. your sister erica? she’ll have her own wing in the mansion. mike? he’ll be our unpaid intern. forever!”

the code beeped— another successful loop. dustin whooped, fist‑pumping like he’d just launched a rocket. “BRILLIANT. they’re gonna lose their MINDS!”

but the poster—oh god, the poster.

dustin was still giggling, wiping tears as he stared at their artistic massacre. “the dragon would refuse to fight that hero—it’s a war crime!”

then lucas mentioned will, and dustin’s brain lit up like a christmas tree on steroids. he grabbed lucas’s arm, shaking him with excitement. “A COMIC?! comic series! will draws the graphic novel, we code the games, we license it to spielberg—BOOM. hollywood box office. we’re talking starpath: the movie. with practical effects! and pyrotechnics!”

he was practically vibrating now. “creative director for life. YES. and mike—” his eyes narrowed, scheming. “mike gets marketing. he’s got that ‘tortured artist who secretly loves attention’ vibe. perfect for press tours. ‘yes, yes, we’re geniuses, now buy the merchandise.’”

dustin slapped the desk again, standing up like a general rallying troops. “the core four! henderson, sinclair, byers, wheeler. unstoppable. unbeatable. we’ll own gaming. movies. EVERYTHING. whitmore will frame this poster in the hall of fame.”

"thanks," he muttered, popping the tab of the can.

sipping at his drink, he winced when he realized the word vomit that he was about to endure. he should be used to it by now but screw that. the force of a henderson rant was not something to be taken lightly.

"hey, i'm not saying you're wrong, but maybe mike just wants a little more—normalcy before we all jump back into the upside down shitshow."

there was no denying steve had already taken notice of all the weird and weirder than normal things happening. he wished he could ignore it, but he knew that would only bite him in the ass in the long run.

"gremlins? i didn't know you starred in a movie," he jabbed teasingly before wincing at the mention of demobats. he still had scars around his waist from those winged beasts.

"alright, i'll give it a chance. i think connie tried putting it on in the store once, but i told her i would let her close alone if i didn't get to pick something else," he admitted with a smug grin.

“normalcy?” he repeated, voice climbing into that patented henderson pitch of outrage. “STEVE. he spent the last two summers fighting interdimensional slug monsters with his girlfriend who can flip vans with her MIND. what’s his definition of normal—a book club?!”

he threw his hands up, pacing now, classic dustin rant mode fully engaged. “mike wants ‘normalcy’ like i want to join the wrestling team. great in theory, disastrous in execution.”

but then he spun around, pointing triumphantly. “HA! see? even connie knew it was gold! you probably picked some lame slasher where the final girl trips over her own shoelaces. classic steve.”

dustin flopped back onto the couch, snatching the remote. “lucky for you, i’m magnanimous. we start with gremlins. then the thing. maximum paranoia! you’ll thank me when you’re hiding behind the couch pillows screaming.”

he grinned, all teeth and mischief, leaning into steve’s space. “and don’t pretend you’re not secretly thrilled. you LOVE when i’m right. makes you feel like you’re parenting a genius.”

“Stop zooming in on my soul, Henderson,” he hissed, finger jabbing the air. “It’s invasive.” But Dustin kept going. Soup, checking on him, romantic subplot behavior. Eddie’s entire nervous system short‑circuited. “NO ONE IS IN A SUBPLOT,” he insisted, voice climbing an octave. “There are no plots! There are no subplots! This is real life, not.. not Spielberg!” Eddie wilted. “Okay, fine, maybe she… checks on me,” he admitted, waving a hand like that would make it less damning. “But not like.. not like that. She just… shows up. Sometimes. And asks if I’m okay. And I lie. Badly. And she sees through it. Every time. Like some kind of.. emotional bloodhound.”

dustin stood there, a look of pure triumph plastered across his face. for a split second, the high of being right—of his intellectual superiority over eddie’s mystery—overshadowed everything else. he felt like he’d just cracked the russian code again, his chest puffing out with the pride of a master detective who had cornered his suspect.

“HOLY— I KNEW IT!” he whisper‑yelled, fist pumping the air like he’d won the lottery. “I KNEW IT! my emotional radar was SPOT ON! eddie munson, ladies and gentlemen —caught in the act of FEELINGS!”

but then—

the grin froze. slowly, dustin’s eyes widened. with realization.

eddie. mona.

he looked at eddie—defeated, admitting to thinking about her in a voice that sounded way too fragile—and then he thought about mona. the one who had taught him how to use a compass when he was six and who once helped him hide a broken lamp from his mom. his cousin. and eddie. his mentor. the high wizard of hellfire. the guy who survived the upside down.

the two halves of dustin’s brain slammed into each other like a high-speed train wreck.

he sat on the couch, staring at eddie like he was seeing him for the first time. “this is… real,” he muttered. “like, actually real. not just me messing with you.” he scrubbed a hand through his curls, processing at lightspeed.

he exhaled, the chaotic energy in his chest dying down. he saw the pleading eyes, and for a second, the protective cousin and the loyal friend had a brief wrestling match in his head. the loyal friend won.

“eddie. you're about as mysterious as a neon sign in a blackout... but listen to me. i know mona. she doesn't do pity. if she’s showing up and being an emotional bloodhound, it’s not because she’s checking a chore off a list. she’s doing it because she wants to be there. with you.”

dustin felt a weird weight of responsibility—he was the one who had brought these two worlds together, after all.

“i guess it's normal to be terrified,” dustin said. “actually, it’s probably the most here you’ve been since you got back. fear is a real world emotion. it’s way better than the cold static.”

he nudged eddie’s knee with his own. “yeah, you're complicated. glitchy. loud. kinda dramatic. but also loyal and brave. and you let people care about you even when it freaks you out.” dustin sat back, crossing his arms triumphantly.

“so. here’s the thing.” he pointed at eddie. “you’re not wrong to feel this. you’re just scared. and fair—she’s intense, she’s basically a human mixtape of danger and eyeliner. BUT,” he held up a finger. “you’re also wrong saying it doesn’t mean anything. because it does. you don’t think about someone that much unless there’s something.”

but then, a small, mischievous spark returned to dustin's eyes. the chaos was never gone for long.

Everything they were imagining right now sounded more than amazing to Lucas. “For sure!” he jumped in again, way too excited. “People are still gonna be talking about us a hundred years from now. Tons of people will try to copy us, but nobody will ever reach our level!” He straightened his shoulders again, already picturing it all in his head: the two of them sitting in ridiculously expensive clothes in fancy restaurants, giving bored, slightly arrogant interviews while everyone still totally worshipped them. “All the people who ever laughed at us are gonna regret it so bad,” he added firmly. “Everyone’s gonna wish they were friends with us! And we’re gonna make our families and friends insanely rich and happy too!” Lucas was definitely getting a little ahead of himself now, but dreaming about all this stuff with Dustin was just way too fun. “Yes… gaming gods,” he repeated with a happy sigh.

The coding was actually going pretty well too, even if the computer took forever to load literally anything. But that was normal. Their future fame and fortune definitely wouldn’t fail because of that.The poster, on the other hand might... They were both actually trying. The problem was just that their drawing skills were about on the same level as an ant trying to do breakdance. “Shut up!”Lucas snorted, swatting at Dustin again after he obviously started making fun of Lucas’s drawing. “You couldn’t even draw a stupid planet! And I told you I can’t do this stuff…” Lucas shot him an annoyed look, but the harder Dustin started laughing, the harder it got for Lucas to stay mad. He looked down at the ugly drawings again and immediately burst out laughing too. It was just funny how unbelievably bad they both were at drawing.

After they finally managed to calm down a little, Dustin actually tried drawing the princess. But the more he drew, the harder Lucas started laughing again. “Man, nobody’s gonna want to rescue that princess!” Lucas said between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Just imagine you beat all those insanely hard levels, survive all the dangers, go through all that just to finally get your dream girl at the end… and that’s what you see!” He wheezed. “That’s scarier than the final boss!”

“KISS you?! SINCLAIR. i have standards.” he made exaggerated gagging noises, then immediately dissolved into laughter. “you couldn’t handle my romantic prowess anyway. i’m saving myself for suzie.” he shoved lucas’s shoulder—hard enough to jostle him but light enough to keep the vibe.

his fingers flew back to the keyboard, code clicking into place as he talked. “perfect date you say? fine. flattery accepted! but if we’re doing this, you’re buying dinner after we’re rich. caviar, champagne. the works.”

he paused, eyes lighting up at lucas’ visions of the future. “a hundred years? try a thousand! they’ll name asteroids after us. ‘dustin‑lucas 1986.’ kids will study us in school. ‘and then the henderson‑sinclair duo invented gaming and also humility.’”

dustin snorted. “all those losers who called us nerds? they’ll be working at our video stores, begging for autographs. ‘remember me? i sat behind you in math?’ and we’ll be like, ‘nah, sorry, too busy counting our millions.’” the delusion was reaching concerning levels at this point.

the screen beeped—PROGRESS, and dustin whooped. “YES! gaming gods confirmed! keep dreaming big, man—this is how empires start!”

dustin was doubled over, wheezing so hard he could barely breathe. tears—ACTUAL tears—streaming down his face. “lucas, i’m gonna—” he gasped, clutching his stomach. “i’m gonna DIE. look at her FACE. she looks like she ate a bad eggo and then got possessed by a demobat.”

he swiped at his eyes, trying to catch his breath. “nobody’s saving that princess. the hero would see her and RUN. like, ‘sorry, ma’am, wrong castle, i’ll just let the dragon keep you.’”

but when lucas mentioned will, dustin’s laughter actually stopped. his head snapped up. eyes wide. “YES,” he said, like lucas had just invented fire. “YES. will. we need him! desperately.”

“co‑founder status? ABSOLUTELY. we make him creative director. he fixes our garbage, we handle the tech genius and marketing empire. it’s perfect.”

he slapped the table, manic with excitement. “the three of us? unstoppable. lucas‑dustin‑will starpath trifecta. people will write BOOKS about us. MOVIES. we’ll get our own marvel team up comic!” then he paused, grinning wickedly. “but first… we have to show him this.” he held up the poster like a trophy. “get his honest reaction on camera. blackmail material for life.”

"of course, good old mews counts," he teased, having a soft spot for the feline. "don't raise the alarms, i'm already used to being robin's personal chauffeur." despite his current complaints, he never minded carting robin or anyone else around town.

digging through a bag of pretzels, he waved off the mention of the freezer incident. snacks were in need of eating, after all.

he chewed carefully and deliberatively on a handful of pretzels as dustin explained the weird happenings he had been experiencing. of course, steve had been experiencing them too, but he was more reluctant to admit it. "yeah, i guess i've heard some things about lights being weird. you talk to mike about it?" he asked, knowing the kid must have raised the bat signal already.

he handed steve his soda, then flopped onto the opposite end of the couch, legs tucked under him like he lived there —which, to be fair, he basically did.

and then steve asked the killer question.

“did i talk to mike?” he repeated, eyes widening like steve had just asked if he’d called the pentagon. “STEVE. i tried. you know what mike said? ‘maybe your wiring’s old.’ dude. DUDE. when has my wiring ever been old? i literally rewired this entire house when i was fourteen because our outlets sucked.” he gestured broadly at the living room, as if it proved his point.

“and besides, the light thing isn’t just flickering, okay? it’s patterned. like… like someone knocking from the inside of the wall but with electricity.”

he got up again, pacing, the energy building.

“and you’ve seen stuff too, obviously. don’t give me that ‘maybe a draft’ crap. lamps don’t hum morse code because of drafts.” he sighed dramatically and glanced at steve, eyebrow raised.

“no, my mom is NOT getting another cat. you know how she gets... she says she’s ‘not ready,’ which is mom‑speak for ‘i’m still emotionally compromised by the loss of a small furry creature.’ plus mews would hate it. she barely tolerates us."

right on cue, mews climbed onto steve’s lap like she owned him.

dustin pointed. “see? that’s the face of a cat who would commit a felony if another pet walked in here.” he plopped back down beside steve. “okay. drink your dr. pepper. pet the murder cat.”

he took a breath, excitement lighting him up like he’d been waiting for this exact question.

“gremlins,” he said instantly, like it was the most obvious choice in the world. “it’s got everything! cute creatures, explosions, chaos, and a plot twist that’ll make your brain explode.”