soup's bowl

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4/?

word count: 2.5k

tw: swearing, mentions of death

--

You arrived home to a silent house. Your grandmother always went to bed early. You quietly closed and locked the front door, sliding your sneakers off your feet and tiptoeing up the stairs. You clutched Dustin’s notebook tightly as you went. You found yourself standing in front of your father's locked office. The memories flooded back—the briefcase, the hushed conversations, the unspoken fears. Something gnawed at your stomach –fear, curiosity, hunger, perhaps a mix of the three – and you reached for the doorknob.

“What are you doing?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. Your grandmother had appeared behind you, looking at you with concern.

“Grandma! I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you up. I just got back from work.”

“Why are you trying to get into your father’s office?” Her voice was dark, a tone you had never heard from her before.

“I…wasn’t,” you lied, terribly. You discreetly hid the notebook behind your back, and backed up so you were pressed against the wall. “I think you should go back to bed, Grandma, it’s late. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

Your grandmother furrowed her brows and she stared at you, unblinking. “Why are you trying to get into the office?”

You felt the blood drain from your face. “I... I know something is going on, Grandma.” You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was racing. You took a deep breath before continuing. “I know that Dad’s work at Hawkins Lab has to do with things that have been going on around here. I don’t know how I know…I just…I know,” you admitted, your voice wavering slightly. “And now I need to know the truth about my family.”

Your grandmother’s expression hardened even more. “Y/N, you don’t understand what you’re messing with. Your father’s work at the lab... it was beyond dangerous. It’s complicated.”

“But I can’t shake this feeling that there’s something I need to know,” you insisted, your voice rising with frustration. “I feel like we were somehow connected to everything that’s been happening in this goddamn town. I’m old enough now, Grandma. I have a right to know how my parents really died and what they were involved in.”

She studied you for a long moment, her eyes searching yours. “You have no idea the danger involved in this. Your father… he wanted to protect you from all of it.”

“I know, but I need to understand,” you pleaded, tears welling in your eyes. “I can’t keep living in the dark. If my parents were murdered, I have a right to know!”

Her gaze softened slightly, a mix of sadness and resolve in her eyes. You thought you saw a tear. She turned and went into her bedroom to emerge a moment later holding a key. She unlocked the office. “Come with me.”

She led you into the dark office, the air heavy with dust. The room was stark, almost barren, with only a desk and a chair left untouched since your father’s passing. Papers and books were conspicuously absent.

“He kept everything locked away for a reason,” your grandmother began, her voice low but steady as she looked around the room. “Your mother always told your father not to bring his work home with him. She knew it would lead to disaster. When they left that day…” she paused, swallowed. “The day they died, your father had cleaned out this office, he wanted to take his research and reveal the truth of what was going on beyond the fences inside Hawkins Lab. He knew the risks involved. The lab... they were suspicious of him. He and your mother... they were driving to reveal the lab’s secrets to the press, along with his research and then…” she trailed off.

You listened intently, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Then they got into the accident. Just as they were about to leave town.”

She paused again, looking at you deeply. You brushed away a stray tear that had managed to sneak out of your eye and drip down your cheek.

“I’ve always believed there was foul play involved, but for your safety, it was best not to say anything.”

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you processed her words. The weight of years of secrecy and unanswered questions bore down on you. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It wasn’t my decision to make. Your father entrusted me with this, to tell you when the time was right, when you were old enough to understand,” she replied softly, her eyes filled with sorrow and regret. “He wrote you a letter. He told me to give it you when it was time you knew the truth.”

An ache spread through your chest as you struggled to comprehend the enormity of what she was telling you. “Show me.”

Your grandmother hesitated for a moment, then nodded solemnly. She moved to the desk and lifted the chair, revealing a small compartment hidden in the leg. Inside was an old, weathered envelope, rolled into a tube shape. She handed it to you, and watched as you carefully unfolded the letter, written in your father’s familiar handwriting:

Dear Y/N,

If you are reading this, then something has happened to me and your mother. I’m sorry for keeping this from you, but I did it to protect you. For years, I have been involved in a top-secret project at Hawkins Lab—MKUltra. These experiments, as difficult as it is to believe, involve, alternate dimensions, powers beyond our understanding. Below are the details of the experiment. I trust that you will know what to do with this when the time is right:

Project Codename: "MK Ultra"

Objective: To explore and harness the energy of the Upside Down to enhance human physical and cognitive abilities, creating superhuman capabilities.

Key Components:

1. Energy Harnessing:

Portal Stabilization: Develop technology to stabilize and control portals to Dimension X, allowing safe and consistent access.

Energy Extraction: Create methods to extract and store energy from Dimension X for experimental use.

2. Human Enhancement:

Genetic Modifications: Experiment with genetic alterations using Dimension X energy to enhance human strength, agility, and cognitive functions.

Psychic Abilities: Investigate the potential for developing or amplifying psychic abilities (telekinesis, telepathy) using Dimension X energy.

3. Field Testing:

Test Subjects: Conduct trials on selected individuals to monitor the effects and improvements in physical and cognitive capabilities.

Behavioral Analysis: Observe changes in behavior, mental state, and any unintended consequences of the enhancements.

4. Potential Risks:

Unpredictable Mutations: Dimension X energy might cause unforeseen genetic mutations or health issues.

Psychological Instability: Enhanced psychic abilities could lead to mental instability or uncontrollable powers.

Cross-Dimensional Threats: Opening portals could invite dangerous creatures from Dimension X into our world.

5. Current Focus:

Subject Observations: Monitoring subjects who have shown resilience to Dimension X exposure for potential enhancement candidates.

Energy Stability: Ensuring the extracted energy remains stable and non-toxic for human application.

I believed in the science. I believed we could make the world a better place. But as time went on, I discovered the truth—that our work was not as safe as I thought. People were being hurt, manipulated. I couldn’t stand by anymore. I knew I had to reveal the truth.

I’m writing this letter and giving it to your grandmother, just in case anything happens to me and your mother. She will know when it’s time for you to read it.

Y/N, you are special. You have strength and courage beyond measure. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, but I hope you can forgive me. Your mother and I love you more than words can say.

With all my love,

Dad

Your head was pounding, you felt your vision blurring. Somehow, none of it made sense yet it explained everything you had been wondering for the past five years. Your legs felt like jelly and you sat down on the dusty floor, hoping that grounding yourself would help.

Your grandmother looked at you sadly. “I’m sorry Y/N.”

You nodded, but didn’t say anything to her.

“Do you have anymore questions?”

You shook your head.

Your grandmother sighed, then padded quietly out of the room. Upon hearing the door close you immediately began to sob.

--

The only thing worse than finding out that your father was part of some top-secret experiment that led to his and your mother’s demise was having to process that information during Mrs. Click’s 9:00am history class.

You didn’t sleep a wink the night prior, visions of grotesquely enhanced humans and alternate dimensions flashed through your brain, with the occasional imagery of a burning car and your parents’ smoldering corpses.

Geez, Y/N, way to keep it lively.

Mrs. Click had been droning on about the cotton gin for an agonizing amount of time and you could feel your eyelids getting heavy when she brought up the “riveting details of the Munger cotton gin of the Civil War Era.”

You felt yourself slipping into a tranquil doze when all of a sudden you felt yourself actually slipping, as your head slid off your hand and smacked onto the desk in front of you.

Laughs erupted around the classroom and you felt a blush of embarrassment creep up your chest and onto your face.

“Ms. L/N am I boring you?” Mrs. Click stared at you over the top of her horn-rimmed glasses.

The class giggled quietly.

“No, Mrs. Click,” you said, unconvincingly. You straightened up a bit, trying to exude the confidence of someone not only awake, but engaged. “I’m not bored.”

“Lovely, then perhaps you wouldn’t mind reminding the class what inventor received a patent for the Smooth Cylinder Cotton Gin in 1840?”

You stared blankly ahead. Your knowledge of the cotton gin both began and stopped at Eli Whitney.

"Uh, Eli Whitney?" you ventured hesitantly, even though you knew it was wrong the moment you said it.

Mrs. Click sighed; her disappointment evident. "No, that would be Eli Whitney's earlier invention. The correct answer is Fones McCarthy. Maybe you would know that if you had been paying more attention rather than dozing off on your hand.”

You felt the heat of embarrassment rising in your cheeks as the class tittered again. You buried your face back in your hands, wishing you could disappear.

"Actually, Mrs. Click," a voice cut through the whispers. "I think Y/N was just confused because Eli Whitney's gin was the first major breakthrough. It's an easy mistake."

You lifted your head from your hands and met Steve Harrington’s gaze from across the room. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and a small nod.

Steve? Bailing you out? And paying attention in class? This was new. And unusual.

Mrs. Click looked at Steve, also perplexed at his uncharacteristic participation in class, then back at you, her expression softening slightly. "Well, thank you, Mr. Harrington. Let's all try to pay closer attention, shall we?"

To your relief, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. You gathered your books and made a beeline for the door, eager to escape. Before you could make your way to your locker, a hand gently grazed your shoulder.

You whipped around, locking eyes with Steve once again.

“Geez, L/N you’re jumpy today,” his eyes scanning your face as if trying to find the root of your distress. “I promise you Mrs. Click isn’t going to hang your hide over falling asleep in class. I should know, I do it all the time.”

You gave him a small smile. "Yeah, well thanks for bailing me out, Steve. I really appreciate it."

He shrugged, a lopsided grin on his face. "Hey, I just figured I owed you for comforting me after Tina’s Halloween party the other night.”

“Oh no, we were already even for that. You walked me home after the party, providing me with ‘protection’ as you called it.”

“Well, then I guess now you owe me.”

You were suddenly very aware of how close Steve was to you, and that you were staring at each other. His brown eyes were flecked with green, something you didn’t notice the other night.

Stop staring, Y/N.

You cleared your throat, breaking the spell. "Yeah, I guess I do," you said, trying to sound casual. "How about next time you come by Moretti’s I’ll sneak extra cheese on your pizza – no charge?”

Steve smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he did so. “If I let you borrow my notes from class today do you think you could throw in some pepperoni, too?”

You tapped your chin, feigning consideration. “I suppose I could make that happen.”

“Excellent, then we have a deal.” Steve reached into his bag and pulled out his notebook and handed it to you. “I’ll see you around, L/N. Probably at Moretti’s to cash in the pizza you owe me.”

“I’ll be there.”

Steve smiled at you again before turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

A tinge of guilt suddenly arose from the depths of your stomach as you watched him leave. You had been there when Johnathan drove Nancy home from the party. You had been the one to tell Johnathan to drive her home in the first place. You had heard the couple’s argument outside of the gymnasium yesterday. And here you were, borrowing his notes and staring into his eyes.

Your mind returned to the argument you had overhead between Steve and Nancy. You distinctly remember Steve saying something about “killing Barb.” Barbara Holland had gone missing around the same time Will Byers did last year. Except he was found, and she wasn’t. After everything you had discovered about your parents’ death and Hawkins lab last night, you hadn’t even had time to try and put your detective tendencies to work and further investigate Barb’s disappearance.

You unshouldered your backpack and shoved Steve’s notebook inside. Your eyes suddenly caught notice of the sticker on the front of one of the other notebooks. Hawkins Middle AV Club.

The bell rang, indicating you had three minutes to get to your next class – trigonometry with Mr. Mundy. You pulled one strap of your backpack over your shoulder, and slowly ambling towards the classroom.

In the next three minutes, you took inventory in your head the things that had happened to you over the past few days.

One, came into possession of a middle schooler’s notebook that dictated what could be utter nonsense or clues in the mysterious events in Hawkins over the past year. Two, unintentionally meddled in the relationship of Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler. Three, discovered that the former pair may have somehow been involved in Barbara Holland’s disappearance. Four,  discovered that your father had been involved in human enhancement and interdimensional travel. Five, your parents intended to reveal those secrets to the public and it resulted in their deaths. Six, you were now involved in some deep shit, and trigonometry somehow no longer seemed like a priority.

You stopped dead in your tracks, the hallway deserted.  The obnoxious buzz of the late bell echoed in the empty hall, indicating your tardiness to class.

Seven, you were skipping class to figure out what the fuck is going on.

The words from your father's letter resonated in the back of your mind, urging you forward.

Y/N, you are special. You have strength and courage beyond measure.

part 3/?

word count: 2.8k

tw: swearing, mentions of death

--

You tended to rank things in your mind to pass time: your current favorite musical artists, best ice cream shops in or adjacent to Hawkins, the teachers at Hawkins High, favorite books, et cetera. 

Currently, you were ranking the various stains on your work uniform according to how difficult it would be for you to get them out in the wash. 

Number three, pizza sauce: washes out surprisingly easy if you soak it in cold water first. Number two, grape juice: not a common stain for your work attire, but you had an unfortunate incident with a toddler and his unclosed sippy cup as you were placing his parent’s pizza at their table. And finally, number one, pepperoni grease: oilier than one might think, and the orange-colored liquid is a bitch to get out of your pale pink work shirt. 

“L/N would you mind picking up the pace a bit? We just got an order for five large pies, and you haven’t even finished saucing the previous orders yet. Gesù Cristo!” Mr. Moretti, the owner of Moretti’s Pizzas and your perpetually grumpy boss, snapped at you as he headed out back for what you assumed was his fourth smoke break that shift. 

There wasn’t much to do on a Monday night in Hawkins, as most places closed before the sun even got close to the horizon. Moretti’s was one of the few places open past nightfall, and thus you often received an influx of orders from tired parents looking for something easy to feed their kids after soccer practice or potheads with a bad case of the munchies around 7 o’clock each weeknight. 

You spooned sauce onto the circle of dough in front of you, thinking about the events of gym class earlier that day. Hearing the sadness in Steve’s voice as he spoke to Nancy caused a pang in your gut and a twist of your heart - guilt and something else…empathy maybe? You weren’t sure, and didn’t have time to rank the plethora of feelings you had at the moment because the bell that hung over the door rang, indicating the arrival of a customer. 

You exited the kitchen to greet them and see a group of kids, about thirteen or so, chattering about something as they approached the counter. You recognized two of them as Dustin Henderson and Lucas Sinclair. They were friends of Johnathan’s little brother, Will, and Nancy’s little brother, Mike. There was a redheaded girl with them. You didn’t recognize her. She glanced around the pizza shop suspiciously, like she was worried someone might see her there.

You smiled at her, but she averted your gaze. Your smile faltered slightly, but you grabbed a pen and an order sheet and then looked to Dustin and Lucas.

“How are you guys doing tonight? What can I get for you?”

“A large pepperoni please,” said Dustin, grinning at you. “And don’t be afraid to load it up with extra cheese and sauce.”

Mr. Moretti turned the corner in that moment, returning from his umpteenth smoke break. “Extra cheese and sauce cost extra, kid. Don’t forget to charge him for that, L/N.”

“Sure, Mr. Moretti,” you sighed. After he had disappeared back in the kitchen, you smiled down at Dustin. “I think he can spare a few pepperonis and an extra scoop of cheese.”

Dusin and Lucas grinned at each other, and you thought even the redheaded girl cracked a little bit of a smile.

“Is that for here or to go?”

“For here, please. Thanks,” Lucas said, throwing a crumpled ten-dollar bill on the counter and telling you to keep the change before following Dustin and the redhead over to a booth in the corner.

You went back into the kitchen to prep their pizza. You felt a lot of empathy for those kids. You couldn’t imagine what it must’ve felt like for them last year. Will’s disappearance, his supposed death, and his return from the dead must’ve been traumatizing for them to go through. You didn’t have many close friends, just a few acquaintances from school, and Chrissy, of course, and the thought of losing them, even hypothetically, put a twang in your chest.

You then thought of your parents. You lost them both tragically about five years ago. Your mother, Rose,  had worked an unassuming job at Melvad’s General Store. She grew up in Hawkins and knew just about everyone in town. She always greeted everyone with a smile, and no one had even the slightest negative thoughts about her. Losing her devastated not only you, but the entire town. Your father, Alexander, was a medical researcher, and had moved to Hawkins to work at the lab. You never quite knew what it was he did there, and you could pinpoint your detective tendencies arising around the time you began old enough to ask questions about his work…

--

EIGHT YEARS AGO

Your mother placed a steaming platter of mashed potatoes on the dinner table, and sat down next to your father. He was wearing his glasses, and frowning at a series of notes and diagrams that he had been leafing through for the past several minutes. You were eight, and playing with a friendship bracelet that Chrissy had made you. It was originally a bright F/C, but had since faded from sunshine and wear, and was now a paler version of its once bright hue. You heard your father sigh. You looked up from your bracelet and watched as he stacked the papers neatly, before placing them into his briefcase on the floor, and locking it.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?” you asked. You could see by the expression on his face that he was frustrated.

“Nothing, sweetheart, it’s just been very stressful at work lately.”

Your mother scooped a heaping serving of mashed potatoes onto your plate, along with a piece of chicken and some spinach, before placing it down in front of you. You pushed the spinach to the side of your plate with your fork before shoveling mashed potatoes into your mouth

“What is your work?” you asked, mouth still full of potatoes.

Your parents both stopped, mid chew, and exchanged glances with one another. Your father picked up his glass of water, and took a swig before facing you.

“You don’t want to know about that, Y/N. It’s boring stuff, you’d fall asleep into your mashed potatoes if I told you.”

You giggled a little bit, but your mother seemed uneasy.

“Were you reading something for work at the table, Alexander?” she asked him, her eyes drifting to his locked briefcase that laid beneath his chair.

“I was. You know how busy I am, Rose. As much as we both don’t like it, sometimes I have to bring work home.”

There was a pause.

“I really don’t feel comfortable with you bringing research home,” your mother said, dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth.

“What research?” you asked, looking between your parents curiously. “What is it you’re bringing home?”

They ignored you.

“We’ve talked about this, Alex. The stuff that you’re working on is too dangerous take out of that lab, in any capacity.”

“The research is dangerous? Why is it dangerous?” your eyes widened.

Your father didn’t say anything and kept staring down at his plate. Your mother continued.

“See? And now Y/N is asking questions. I knew this project was going to infiltrate our family, I told you that from the beginning and that’s why I didn’t want you involved. And now that you want out of it it’s going to endanger our-”

Your father slammed his fist on the table before your mother could finish her sentence. He looked up at you. “Y/N, go to your room,” he said sternly.

“Why? I didn’t do anything!” you protested. “Why can’t I stay?”

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice was shaking. Whether it was from anger or fear, you couldn’t tell. “Just listen to your father. Go to your room.”

You got up from your seat and stomped up the stairs, slamming the door to your room for good measure. You closed the door to your room and threw yourself onto the bed, your heart pounding from the argument you had just witnessed. Your father's rare outburst had scared you, but even more unsettling were the hints about his mysterious and dangerous work. You could still hear their voices, muffled but intense, drifting up from the dining room. Curiosity flowed through you, and you crept slowly and silently to the door, opening it just enough to add clarity to your parents’ hushed voices. You knelt by the door, hardly breathing as you listened to their conversation.

"Alex, you promised me this project wouldn't come home with you. If the lab finds out you have data here, they could... who knows what they could do,” your mother’s voice was fierce.

"I know," your father replied. "But I'm close to a breakthrough. If I could just understand the energy signatures, it would change everything. We could enhance human capabilities beyond our wildest dreams."

"And what about the risks? The dangers? You know what happened to the last test subjects."

Your father sighed deeply. "I know. That's exactly why I'm working so hard. I want to make it safe. I don’t agree with their methods, but the energy and power we’re working with…it's... it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s unpredictable. And I can't make sense of it all and figure out a way for the project to be executed safely without bringing some of the data home."

You could hear tears in your mother’s voice. “I can't lose you, Alex. And I can't let this destroy our family."

"I know," he said, his voice trembling along with hers. " I'm scared, too. I want out. I want to expose the dangers of what they’re doing, but I'm in too deep. If they find out... I don't know what they'll do. The most I can do now is try to keep what we’re doing as safe as possible."

“I just don’t want you endangering us to keep others safe.” Your mother replied.

There was a pause. A long one.

"I'll be careful," your father finally added. You could tell he was trying to reassure her, but he didn’t seem so sure himself. "I promise.”

You quietly closed the door and laid back on your bed. Lying on your bed, you stared at the glowing plastic stars on your ceiling, trying to process what you'd overheard. Energy signatures. Dangerous research. Human capabilities. It was all so bewildering. You didn’t entirely understand, but you knew that whatever it was your father was involved in, it was like something out of sci-fi movie, something beyond your wildest dreams. Something that could potentially endanger your entire family.

You reached for the faded friendship bracelet on your wrist, twirling it thoughtfully. Chrissy told you it was good luck. You desperately hoped she was right.

--

“L/N! Why are you standing around! Get those orders out to the customers, rapido!”

You hadn’t realized how deep into your memories you had gone. You were clutching your wrist, as if you had been searching for the friendship bracelet from Chrissy.

That memory was the last time you could recall discussing your father’s work. The next three years, you remember having to bite your tongue to avoid bringing up what you had heard. The lab, the energy signatures, human enhancement. Your father never brought home the briefcase again, at least not that you witnessed. His home office was always locked.

On December 9th, 1979,  your parents’ car had supposedly spun out when your father was driving your mother to work. The car was found, mangled around a tree and on fire.

The weeks following their death had been a blur. People you knew and people you didn’t all offering their condolences and bringing various baked goods. The funeral was at the church your parents got married at. White roses adorned their caskets, which remained closed. The Byers helped your grandmother move into your house. Your father’s home office stayed locked all the while. You only ate mashed potatoes.

You said something to your grandmother once, a few months after your parents’ death. You voiced a thought that had been circulating your mind since that fateful day when your father had brought home his briefcase.

“Did someone from the lab kill my Mom and Dad?”

Your grandmother sent you to a shrink after that. Her office smelled like cat pee and moth balls and she spoke to you in a tone so condescending that it made you want to throw something. You never said anything regarding your parents’ death to your grandmother again, and you never returned to the shrink. There was always a place in the back of your mind where you wondered if your parents death hadn’t entirely been an accident.

“TODAY L/N!” Mr. Moretti bellowed so loudly you jumped. He shoved a pizza pan in front of you and thrust his thumb towards the door. “Bring this out to those kids, now.”

You grabbed a towel to grab the hot pizza pan, and used your hip to open the door to the front. Dustin, Lucas, and the redhead were scrambling to get ready, collecting books and shoving them into their backpack. The redhead picked up a skateboard and was about to head for the door when she caught your eye.

“Oh, guys, pizza’s here.”

“Shit! Do you think we could get this in a box? To-go?” Dustin asked you. He seemed a little frantic.

“Yeah, of course just give me a second,” you answered, placing the pizza on the table.

“Dustin, Max, we don’t have time! We need to go, right now!” Lucas said, emphasizing the last two words. They were out the door in a flash, the bell on the door jingling as they went.

“But it’s already paid for!’ you called after them from the doorway.

You watched them leave, Dustin and Lucas hopping on their bikes and pedaling furiously. The redheaded girl, who you concluded must’ve been Max, skated behind them.

 You went back inside, trying to brush the incident from your mind and chalk it up to just kids being kids. As you returned to the now-vacant booth, you noticed a tattered notebook laying on the seat. It was adorned with a sticker that read "Hawkins Middle AV Club" prominently displayed on its cover. You picked it up, along with the pizza, and carried them both back to the kitchen where Mr. Moretti was grumbling about the state of his inventory. He glanced up as you entered, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.

"They left in a hurry," you explained, setting the items down on the counter. "Should I box up their pizza?"

Mr. Moretti scoffed “Those little shits better have paid.”

“They did, don’t worry.”

"Alright, then. Box it up. I’ll bring it home for my kids for dinner." Mr. Moretti then left the kitchen, not giving the notebook that laid on the counter a second glance.

You sighed, and boxed up the pizza to set aside. You glanced at the notebook again. No one else was in the kitchen, yet snatched it quickly and stowed it safely in your bag.

As you returned to your routine tasks in the kitchen, your mind began to drift. Detective tendencies at it again. What were those kids up to? Was something happening with Will again? Maybe it was related to Barabara Holland? At the root of these questions was the memory of your parents and your father’s work at Hawkins Lab, echoing like a haunting refrain.

The rest of the night was rather uneventful. You ignored the expletives Mr. Moretti shouted at you for being distracted and finished mopping the kitchen as quickly as you could. You walked to your car, slammed the door, and immediately dug the notebook out of your bag. The “Hawkins Middle AV Club”  sticker stared at you from the cover. You opened it and began reading.

Will

October 28, 1984: Will had a vision at the arcade today. I’m worried about him. It definitely has to do with the Upside Down.

D'Artagnan – “Dart”

October 31, 1984: Found what looks to be a baby pollywog in my trashcan. Kinda cute. Currently researching what he might be, terrestrial pollywogs only exist in South America and India. Could be a new species, Dustinis pollywogus.

part 2/?

word count: 1.5k 

tw: swearing, mentions of death

-- 

You expected Monday to be uneventful, as Mondays in Hawkins usually were. 

You woke up at 6:30 to the sound of your alarm. Groaning, you rolled over and smacked it several times until you successfully found the off button. You dragged yourself out of bed and shoved your feet into your threadbare terrycloth bunny slippers. 

Your grandmother was already downstairs and ready for the day - she always rose well before the sun - stirring a pot of oatmeal. 

“Morning, Grandma.” 

“Morning, sweetie. Do you want anything special on your oatmeal?” 

“Blueberries, please,” you respond as you pour yourself a cup of coffee and take a seat at the kitchen table. 

The Sunday issue of the Hawkins post is resting on the table. You usually tried to read it each Sunday morning as an homage to your parents, who had the same habit when you were growing up, but you neglected it yesterday as you were busy catching up on the homework you should’ve done on Friday night in place of going to the Halloween party. 

You leafed through it, not finding much interest in any of the articles, until you reached the police report section. You had a penchant for investigation, always reading the police reports and adoring detective shows as a kid. One of the reports read:

OCTOBER 30TH, 1984

Hawkins Police Department received a call at 8:05 AM regarding potential contamination of a local pumpkin patch. It is being investigated as to whether foul play was involved. 

“Did you see this, Grandma?” you asked. 

Your grandmother placed your oatmeal in front of you and leaned over your shoulder to read the report. 

“Oh, yes. Farmer Merrill’s off accusing Farmer Eugene of poisoning his pumpkin patch. Poor fella lost most of his crop just before Halloween. I would be upset, too, but nothing to contact the police over,” your grandmother said, taking a seat next to you and starting on her own oatmeal. 

You took a sip of coffee. “Maybe. It just seems weird. We were at the pumpkin patch Thursday to pick one out for Halloween and they all seemed perfect. Someone managed to poison a whole field of them in a single night?” you took several bites of oatmeal before continuing. “I doubt old Farmer Eugene is fit enough to do something like that.” 

Your grandmother smiles at you. “Oh, Y/N here you go again with your detective tendencies. Hawkins has never been a place for mysteries.” 

“What about that time Chrissy and I solved the mystery of the missing snowman?” 

“It melted Y/N.” 

“Right, but we still figured it out,” you smiled, pointing your spoon at your grandmother. “I have to go get ready for school. Thanks, for breakfast Grandma.” 

You ran upstairs to quickly brush a comb through your hair and through on a pair of jeans, a striped button down, and your white sneakers before running out the door with your bag slung over your shoulder. 

You were out the door to quickly to see your grandmother throwing the newspaper into the fireplace. 

--- 

If school was purgatory, gym class must’ve been the seventh circle of hell. 

You managed to get out of playing basketball thanks to the gym teacher’s sexist assumption that girls were more inclined to do pilates rather than play a semi-contact sport. You hated the way he sneered as he said it and you glared at him with distaste. You wanted to run laps around the track outside anyway, as you typically did, and silently thanked the gym teacher’s misogyny for this outcome. 

I mean, basketball isn’t my thing anyway. Thank you, sexist Mr. Boylston. 

You were sitting on the bleachers, tying the laces of your running shoes, when Mr. Boylston approached you. 

“What do you think you’re doing, L/N?” 

You looked up at him. “Uh, I thought I was tying my shoes? What, is this improper form?” 

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snarled. His thick mustache was decorated with sweat and you tried not to squirm. “Didn’t I say that the girls were to do pilates today?” A mustache sweat drop fell onto the floor in front of you. 

“You did say that, yes.” 

“Then why are you getting ready to go run outside?”

“I thought I-” 

“No. Pilates. Inside. With the other girls. On the sidelines.” Mr. Boylston punctuated each phrase with a crack of his knuckles. 

And somehow he’s managed to be even more of a chauvinist. 

You stood up, giving him a death stare as you walked across the gym to the other girls to join in their stretching. The boys had already started playing basketball and your gaze drifted to the center of the court. 

Steve Harrington was in the middle, skillfully dribbling the ball between his legs  up the court. A shirtless guy was guarding him, trying to snatch the ball away. You recognized him immediately. 

Keg Stand Fabio strikes again. 

“Checking out, Billy huh, Y/N?” 

You snapped your head to your right. Carol Perkins was smiling smugly at you. 

“What?” 

“Billy Hargrove? The new guy? He’s got a great ass right?” 

You scoffed. “More like he is an ass.” 

Carol rolled her eyes at you and tightened her ponytail. “Whatever.”

You noticed that Mr. Boylston had fallen asleep on the bleachers, his head lolling to the side and his mustached mouth open and snoring. You rolled your eyes and decided to abandon the girls doing pilates and began to head out the door towards the track.

On your way out, you looked towards the court again and noticed Billy was busy posting up Steve, pressed up against his back and starting to talk smack. 

“Harrington, right? I heard you used to run this school. That true?”

Steve ignored him. 

But Billy didn’t relent. “King Steve they used to call you, huh? Then you turned bitch.” 

You suddenly felt the urge to abandon your journey outside in favor of marching onto the court and smacking Billy upside the head. 

Before you could, though, Steve glared at Billy, and said, “Hey, maybe you should just shut up and play the game.” 

After that remark, Billy tripped Steve, snagging the ball away and hustling down the court to score. You were near the hoop at this time, and Billy noticed this. 

“Hey, Indy. I’m still waiting on that full body scan you owe me. You free after school?” He licked his lips, eyes darkened. 

You rolled your eyes, not giving him the satisfaction of a response, and headed out the door. 

Once outside, you allowed the sun to warm your face and awaken your limbs. Before you could start running though, you heard something in the alleyway between the gym and the rest of the school. 

Detective tendencies getting the better of you once again, you walked on light feet towards the alley, and leaned against the wall to listen. You recognized Steve’s voice instantly. 

“Jesus, you really can’t hold your alcohol...you remember going to Tina’s party the other night, right?”

“Yes.” 

You realized the other voice must be Nancy. 

“And then what?”

“I remember dancing, and...spilling some punch. You got mad at me because I was drunk and then you took me home.” 

Steve sighs. “No, see, that’s where your mind gets a little bit fuzzy. That was your other boyfriend, that was Johnathan.” 

Crap. 

You wanted to interject into the conversation and say that you were there too, that Johnathan wasn’t the only one to bring Nancy home, and that you had been the one to suggest it in the first place. Guilt was gnawing at your stomach and you wanted to puke. 

“I don’t understand,” Nancy said. 

“It’s pretty simple Nancy, you were just telling it like it is.” Steve said, sadly. 

“What?” 

‘”Uh, apparently, uh...we killed Barb, and I don’t care ‘cause, I’m bullshit...and our whole...our whole relationship is bullshit, and- well, I mean, pretty much everything is just, bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.” 

Killed Barb??

You remember Barbara Holland going missing last year, around the time Will Byers did. She still hadn’t been found but her parents have yet to stop searching for her. 

“Oh, yeah, also...you don’t love me.” Steve’s voice was both angry and heartbroken. 

“I was drunk, Steve!” Nancy exclaimed. “I don’t remember any of that!” 

“So, that makes everything you said, what? That’s just bullshit too?” Steve was yelling now. 

“Yes!” 

“Well, then tell me.” 

There was a pause. 

“Tell you what?” 

“You love me!” Steve said, sounding defeated. 

“Really?” was all Nancy said in response. 

You jumped as the door beside you swung open, one of your classmates rushing outside to tell Steve the grim status of the basketball game going on inside. 

“Harrington! Dude, we need you, man. That douchebag’s killing us! Let’s go!” 

He rushed back inside, paying no mind to you pressed up against the wall and trying to pretend you didn’t exist. 

“I think that you’re bullshit,” Steve muttered under his breath as he walked away. 

You could hear his steps on the gravel ground approaching you, and you quickly ducked away, running up towards the track before he could see you.

I’m sorry, Steve.  

part 1/? 

word count: 3.5k

tw: mentions of blood/death, swearing, drinking, smoking

---

The rhythm of your pulse beat in time with the sound of your footsteps on the wet pavement. Quick and hammering. You breathed in deeply, hoping to provide your lungs with some much needed oxygen. 

Calm down Y/N...think about five things you can see. 

You glance around you, trying to take in your surroundings as you ran. 

Flecks of gray, swirling in formation around you. Dark looming trees, entwined with inky black vines. Your once white sneakers, now flecked with blood. Your fingernails, adorned with your favorite sparkly polish, chipped away with wear. Puddles on the ground, and your frightened expression flashing in the reflection. 

Okay, good. Now, four things you can touch. 

You reached for the gun on your hip, knowing it was out of ammo, but needing the comfort of its presence more so than its intended purpose at the moment. The silver ring that encircled your right middle finger. You touched it briefly with the index on your left. The bruise on your cheek, tender as you tapped it gently. Your hair, singed and frizzy, flung over your shoulder. You pulled on it. 

Next, three things you can hear. 

Your footsteps pounding the ground and your heartbeat, matching in time. The sound of bats screaming overhead. 

Almost done...two things you can smell. 

Smoke, as if there were a fire lit just beneath your nose but there were no flames in sight. The putrid stench of rotting death somewhere in the distance. 

The screaming of the bats got closer and closer until you were struck square on the back, knocking the breath of your lungs and causing you to fall forward onto your hands.

You rolled over just in time and were finally given one thing you could taste. 

Blood. 

---

TWO YEARS AGO 

“There’s absolutely nothing you can say that’ll convince me to go Chrissy.” 

“Oh, come on Y/N! You promised me you’d go this time! We never seem to hang out anymore and I think this party could be really good for you!” 

You stopped at your locker, unshouldering your backpack to fill it with your textbooks. Chrissy stared at you, her bright green eyes wide and awaiting your answer. 

You and Chrissy Cunningham had known each other since elementary school. You grew up across the street from one another and had been close for years. You had spent every waking moment together as kids, building pillow forts in her basement and making fairy houses in your backyard. In middle school you traded secrets on the bus on the way home from school, who had a crush on who and which teachers were rumored to drink during class. This lasted until freshman year of high school, when Chrissy made the cheerleading team and got a whole new group of friends, and you spent most of your time in the library or scouring the record store for things you had never heard of before. 

It wasn’t like you and Chrissy were no longer friends. She was still nice to you, - always waving and saying hello in the hallway, a gesture you always returned - but it was different. You rarely hung out aside from the occasional blockwide barbeque that one of your families would throw, where you would catch up and make some s’mores and reminisce over childhood antics, then pretend it never happened at school the next day. Since your parents’ passing, these barbeques became an even rarer occurrence, and so was seeing Chrissy. 

It was now your junior year of high school, and Chrissy was suddenly trying harder than ever to reignite your friendship. Trying harder than ever meaning she would pester you about a party every other week or so. 

This time, it was a Halloween party at Tina Ingraham’s house. Tina had been handing out orange flyers that morning that read: “Tina’s Halloween Bash: Come and Get Sheet Faced!”

You had grabbed a flyer absentmindedly when Tina handed it to you. After reading it, you snorted and stuffed it into your back pocket. But, not before Chrissy caught sight of you and took it as an opening to start begging you to go. 

And thus, here you were, with a backpack full of homework and Chrissy Cunningham ready to offer her first born child to you in exchange for you to blow it off and go to this party with her. 

You sighed, closing your locker and fishing the crumpled flyer out of your pocket and looking at it before glancing up at Chrissy again. She smiled and clasped her hands together in a begging fashion. 

“I’ll stick with you the whole time! Please?” 

You rolled your eyes but smiled back at her. “I guess it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten sheet faced.” 

“Yay!” Chrissy clapped her hands and hugged you quickly. “Jason and I can give you a ride! We’ll pick you up at 8:00 and don’t forget a costume!” She pranced off towards her boyfriend Jason, her ponytail bouncing as she went. 

---

Your hair was in curlers as you swiped red stain on your lips and cheeks, dabbing gently with your pinky finger, one of the few makeup tricks your mother taught you. 

A quiet knock sounded on your bedroom door and your grandmother entered. 

“Hi sweetie,” she said. “What are you up to tonight?” 

You capped the lipstick and placed it on your vanity and turned towards her. “I’m going to a Halloween party tonight, Grandma. Chrissy invited me. It’s at Tina Ingraham’s house over on Mulberry. I won’t be home late.” You smiled at your grandmother as she came over and began to help you remove the curlers from your hair. 

“I remember Chrissy. She’s the blond one who lives next door right? I haven’t seen her in ages! How is she?” 

“She’s good,” you said. “We haven’t hung out in a while but she really wanted me at this Halloween party tonight. I told her I’d go.” 

“Do you have a costume?” 

You gestured to the outfit you had hanging from the hook on your closet door. It consisted of a dark brown leather jacket that had been your father’s and a silky button up top with a prominent collar that had been your mothers. You were already wearing straight cut khaki trousers that your grandmother had bought for you thinking you needed more “practical” clothing, and calf high leather boots. 

“Are you going as someone with an odd sense of fashion?”

You laughed, removing the final curler and placing your father’s old cowboy hat atop your head. “No, Grandma! I’m Indiana Jones!” 

You heard a honk outside, causing you to turn your head towards the window. “Shit, they’re already here!” 

You scrambled out of your seat and quickly put on the rest of your costume, grabbing your makeshift whip as you headed out the door. 

“I love you, Grandma! See you later!”

---

It smells like vomit. 

It only took you about 20 minutes of being at Tina’s Halloween Bash before realizing you’d rather be just about anywhere else on the planet. 

You were never a huge fan of parties. You would go to some on occasion, but those typically consisted of smaller gatherings with the few people you knew and liked at school, and would only take part if you didn’t have to work or study, which wasn’t very often. 

This was way out of your comfort zone and seemed more like a warzone than a party. 

As soon as you walked in you were struck with a nauseating mix of smells - weed, alcohol, vomit, and candy corn to name a few - and the sound of “You Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC blasting throughout the house. 

Chrissy nudged your side. “It’ll be fun! Just dance a bit and have a drink! Jason and I are going to go play beer pong.” She then disappeared into the crowd. 

So much for sticking with me. 

Despite not really knowing anyone at the party, you spotted a few familiar faces and made casual conversation while swaying to the music and sipping on a cup of punch. 

You were listening to one of your classmates tell an obviously fabricated story about how he once made out with Molly Ringwald when you heard cheering coming from outside. 

You refilled your cup of punch before making your way through the crowd and out the sliding door to witness a guy doing a keg stand. He had wavy blond hair that reached his shoulders and was wearing an unzipped leather jacket, revealing shiny abs underneath. You didn’t really recognize him and quickly assumed he must’ve been the new student you heard people gossiping about earlier that week. 

The crowd around him roared as finished the keg stand, lasting an impressive forty-two seconds. You leaned against the side of the house, fiddling with the thin leather strip you had fashioned into a makeshift whip that hung from your belt. 

“Hey, Indy.” 

You glanced up meeting the eyes of King Keg Stand, who’s name you still didn’t know. 

“Hey.” 

His eyes roamed over your body before meeting yours again, which you rolled at him. 

“You can’t be serious.” 

He looked taken aback, before his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

You took a step closer to him and crossed your arms. “Do you honestly think I didn’t just see you give me a full body scan?” 

He smirked, licking his lips and placing an already lit cigarette between them. “Sorry, sweetheart. You can return the favor if you’d like.” 

He opened the front of his leather jacket, further revealing his chest and abs. 

“Oh, please!” You kept eye contact. “In your dreams, Fabio.” You chugged back what was left in your punch cup before handing it to him, and heading inside before giving him the chance to respond. 

On your way back in, you ran into someone. 

“I’m so sorry!” You hurriedly adjusted your hair which had been mussed by your hat falling of from the the collision. 

“It’s okay.” Johnathan Byers gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You’d known Johnathan for a while. His mother, Joyce, and your mother had been coworkers at Melvald’s General Store before your mother passed away. You dog sat for the Byers a few times and you had English with Johnathan, but you weren’t super close with him. Joyce had brought over a lasagna for you and your grandmother after your parent’s died, and you had helped Johnathan put up posters for Will when he went missing, but you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

Feeling slightly fuzzy from the party punch and your heart beating quickly after the encounter with Keg Stand Fabio, you flung your arms around him in a tight hug. 

You felt him stiffen slightly before he relaxed into your embrace and patted you on the back gently. “Are you okay, Y/N?” 

You pulled away, blinking quickly. “Yeah, I’m...I’m sorry I don’t really know why I did that. I just...well, I know you’ve been through a lot this past year. With what happened with Will and everything,” you were rambling. “And we haven’t talked in awhile and I just felt like maybe you needed a hug? I’m very glad Will’s okay, by the way.”

Johnathan looked at the floor, nodding. “Yeah, yeah he’s okay. Thanks, Y/N I appreciate that. And the hug.” 

You felt your neck heat up, suddenly very embarrassed at your tipsy behavior. “Oh god, no that was so stupid, I’m sorry. I think the punch is getting to me. Indiana Jones would never act like this.”

Johnathan laughed. “I’m sure he does, it’s just not included in the movie.” 

“What’s your costume supposed to be by the way?” you asked. 

“I’m dressed as a guy who hates parties.”

You snorted. “Johnathan, that’s not a costume that’s just a personality trait.” You rolled your eyes at a guy throwing up in the sink next to you. “One that I happen to share with you now that I think about it.” 

Before Johnathan could respond, you heard a group of people exclaim at something. 

Nancy Wheeler was by the punch bowl, a cup full of the stuff poured down the front of her white shirt. You grimaced as she stormed off towards the bathroom, her boyfriend, Steve Harrington, in tow. 

Nancy was nice. She was a junior, like you, and you guys did a history project on the Ottoman Empire last year. You recalled seeing her and Johnathan together a lot last year and thought that she and Steve had called it quits. You were definitely incorrect in that assumption, but by the way Johnathan was looking at Nancy right now made you think it wasn’t a totally bullshit idea. 

“You like her?”

Johnathan snapped back towards you. “I like...I-I what?” 

You nodded towards the bathroom. “Nancy. You like her?” 

Johnathan turned a vibrant shade of red. “She’s with Steve.” 

“That doesn’t answer my question, Johnathan.”

He sighed, averting your eyes but nodding slowly. “We spent a lot of time together last year and got pretty close. She really helped me with looking for Will and everything. I almost thought she felt the same but-” 

Johnathan was cut off by Steve Harrington, who slammed open the bathroom door and left the house in a blazing fury. 

Your eyes widened. You could see through the crack in the bathroom door that Nancy was leaning forward on the bathroom sink, visibly drunk. You turned back to Johnathan. “You should help her.”

“What?” 

“You have a car don’t you? I would drive her home but I came here with Chrissy and Jason and they’re probably off sucking face somewhere.” 

Johnathan nodded. “Yeah, I can drive. Are you coming?” 

Keg Stand Fabio was approaching you out of the corner of your eye. “I could probably use a getaway car right about now. Lead the way, Byers.” 

--

You and Johnathan had managed to get Nancy home safe and sound. She was very drunk and was obviously upset about something, but you felt it best not to pry. 

You waited in the car as Johnathan helped Nancy inside, and he came back a few moments later. Talking Heads was playing quietly on the radio as Johnathan started driving back in the direction of your house. You were nearly ready to drift off to sleep and went to put your hat over your eyes when you realized. 

“Shit!” 

Johnathan slammed on the brakes. “What? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“My hat! I left my hat at the party! I have to go back!” You were frantic. 

“Oh, Y/N, I’m sure it’s okay. You could just stop by tomorrow and grab it.”

You shook your head and felt tears forming in your eyes but forced them away. “No, no, no, I can’t. It was my dad’s. I really can’t leave it there.” 

Johnathan nodded understandingly before turning the car around. “Okay.” 

--

Back at Tina’s house, there were still a few straggling party goers, but it had mostly emptied out. The front yard was littered with cups, cigarette butts, and a few people having drunken naps while still holding beer bottles. You got out of the car and slammed the door quickly. 

“Do you want me to wait for you?” Johnathan asked from the rolled down window.

You shook your head. “No, it’s okay. Thank you for the ride. My house isn’t far from here I can probably just walk.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” you patted the fake whip on your side. “No one’s gonna mess with Indy.” 

Johnathan smiled at you. “Alright. Well, I guess I’ll see you at school Monday. Bye, Y/N.”

“Bye, Johnathan. Thanks for the ride.”

He drove off and you hopped up the steps into the house. You found your father’s hat on the floor where you had bumped into Johnathan. You picked it up and inspected it to make sure it was okay before placing it back on your head. 

You went back outside and started heading home. The night sky was bright and decorated with stars. You loved stars. Many of your favorite memories with your parents included gazing up at the night sky and trying to identify constellations. You wondered if you would be able to walk all the way home while looking up at the night sky the entire time and were about to attempt it when you heard quiet sobs up ahead.

A figure was sitting on the sidewalk, head in his hands, and shoulders shaking as he cried. As you got closer, you realized it was Steve Harrington. 

Steve was a year older than you and your interactions were few and far between. He was easily the most popular guy at school, adored by many and the object of jealousy for all. You had one class with him, gym, in which you spent most of your time running laps while he would play basketball or soccer or some other team sport that you were atrocious at. He was undeniably cute, but that was like saying the sun was bright or the sky was blue - it was just a fact that everyone agreed on. You definitely weren’t the only one to think that, but probably the last person on earth that anyone would expect to have an interest in him. 

You looked around to see if there was anyone else with him, but he seemed to be alone. You approached him carefully. 

“Steve?”

“Jesus!” He starts, clearly not expecting anyone to be around. 

You stopped in your tracks. “No uh, Indiana Jones, actually. I thought the costume was pretty good but maybe my hair kind of ruined it?” 

Steve stared at you. “What?” 

You shook your head. “Nothing. Sorry.” You took a seat next to him on the curb. “Are you okay?” 

He averted your eyes and wiped his not-so-discreetly on his sleeve. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He then met your gaze. “Who are you anyway? And don’t say Indiana Jones because I know that’s not true, but I’m still a little bit drunk and you might end up convincing me.” 

You smile a little bit. “I’m Y/N L/N. We have gym class together. I’m the girl who usually opts to run laps rather than embarrassing herself at basketball.” 

Steve nods. “Yeah, okay I remember. You work at the pizza place down by the fire station right?” 

“Yep. That’s me.” 

“Good pizza.” 

“Thank you.” 

You sit in silence for a moment before Steve sighs and turns to face you full on. “I know we don’t really know each other, but can I ask you for some advice?”

You blink at him. “I mean...I can’t promise I’ll be much help but, yeah, sure.”

“Okay well,” Steve inhales, like he’s about to start a long speech and you begin to think you’re going to be home a lot later than your grandmother expected you to be. “Let’s say that, hypothetically, you’re a girl.”

You laugh. “Not a hypothetical, Harrington. I’m very much a girl. Perhaps the costume is even better than I thought.” 

“No, God!” he laughed a little bit, but shook his head. “I’m sorry, that’s not really what I meant. Okay, starting over. Let’s say that, hypothetically, you have a girlfriend, and you invite this girlfriend to a party because you thought it would be good for the both of you to just kind of relax and cut loose for a little bit. Then, at this hypothetical party, you spill punch on your hypothetical girlfriend because she was already really drunk and you didn’t want her to get sick. Then you get into a hypothetical fight and she tells you that your relationship is bullshit and she doesn’t love you and-” he was talking quickly and you could see the tears starting to form in his eyes again.

“Steve,” you interrupt quietly. 

He looks at you, eyes glassy, before speaking again. “What would you do? Hypothetically?” 

You sigh and notice Steve’s hand resting on the edge of the curb. You have the sudden urge to grab it, but think better of it. “Well, hypothetically, I don’t know if there’s much I can do. It seems like my hypothetical girlfriend might be going through a lot and she might just need some time to cool down. I’d just...try and be there for her when she does I guess?” 

Steve nods, but doesn’t say anything.

You resist the continued urge to hold his hand, and pat his shoulder instead. “I don’t really know what happened between you and Nancy, but if it’s similar to the hypothetical situation you just told me, then I don’t think you did anything wrong, Steve. You’re a good guy.” 

Steve smiled a little bit and looked at you. 

Pretty eyes. 

“Thanks. I hope you’re right.” He stood up, offering his hand to you. 

You hesitated before taking it. He pulls you up, and you realize you’re nearly chest to chest with him. You can smell his cologne. 

“In exchange for your sage wisdom, L/N, I offer you my protection on the rest of your walk home.” 

You nod, hoping that it’s dark enough outside that your blush is hidden. 

“I’m the one armed, Harrington.” you gesture to the makeshift whip on your side. “I’m protecting you, if anything.” 

percy jackson fandom: [nodding solemnly]