#cosmic 3

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

The winds were harsher down here. They were cold. It was the first time El could physically feel something for herself since stepping foot into Billy's memories.

The seagulls were long since gone, along with Billy and the woman she presumed to be his mother. She was beginning to lose track of how much time had passed, though she couldn't admit she wasn't surprised she had managed to keep track this long. Time was strange in the void. It was almost... flexible. Sometimes her trips stretched on for hours, sometimes they were no less than a minute. But as she wandered the sands on the outskirts of the storm, everything seemed to change all at once.

Not only had the clouds spread all across the sky, blanketing the beach in an eerie gray, there seemed to lurk a familiar, unnatural chill. One El had experienced before. One that carried a certain stench of rot and a recognizable dusting of decay through the air. One many in the town of Hawkins had come to know as the very specific atmosphere associated only with the Upside Down.

This scene felt so familiar in so many ways; the flurry of spores dancing before her eyes. The swipe of her hand through the air to catch the thing she knows isn't there. At the thought, a mix of emotions clashes hard and fast in her chest long before she catches the fearsome shouts of an older man further down the beach.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

"Hey! Billy, stop!"

El's eyes lock on the two figures up ahead and her heart plunges into her stomach. The older man had the second figure—the younger Billy—by the arm. Nearly to the point, she feared it would dislocate. Though they were still daily concealed by a thin veil of clouds, El could still make out the pink in the man's face as he screamed.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" The winds were begging to pick up, carrying a swell of sand that threatened to cloud the unfolding conflict. "What did we talk about, huh? You gotta slide!"

This Billy was wearing a strange white suit of some kind El didn't immediately recognize. It wasn't until she got closer that El picked up on the baseball mitt on his hand. She recalled Dustin and Y/n having one of those. But that couldn't be what this man was so upset about, was it? Baseball? Whatever it was, it twisted her stomach to see. Nothing warranted the behavior she was currently witnessing.

Billy's lower lip trembled as he tried to summon the words. "I-I know,"

"Wait," the man's face drops, its curling back in complete disgust. "Afraid you're gonna get hurt," he mocked. "is that it?"

"No,"

"Well, what then? What?" The man was grabbing him by the arm again as veins began to pop from his face and El gradually picked up speed without thought. "What did I raise, a pussy for a son?"

The tide tore at Billy's feet and the storm close on their horizon roared in anger upon the man's words. Billy ripped his arm straight from his father's grasp and summoned every bit of courage from his chest.

"Leave me alone!" He shrieked with brimming tears, turning tail and heading straight for the thundering red storm clouds.

"That's right, run!" Sneered the man. "Like you always do!"

El was already taking off after Billy, not without sending the man the sourest look she could muster as she passed him. The only thing stopping her from doing something was knowing whatever she tried would fall flat. This was still a memory. But that didn't mean she didn't want to.

El didn't even have this man's name but she knew him all too well. The way he threw children around, the lack of remorse in his cold eyes... El couldn't say she was unfamiliar with the type, and it had her heart broiling in her chest as she disappeared into the storm after Billy.

A clap of thunder shook the earth and several bolts of blinding streaks of crimson lightning struck the sands all around them. Between this and the roar of the winds threatening to knock her over, it was a wonder she hadn't lost Billy before now. He had simply vanished, swallowed whole by the storm but none of that seemed to matter. El had crossed the first threshold of the storm—the gate to a new memory. And the furious shouts of the man she had just left behind were telling her that what she had just witnessed, was the first of many.

"Where were you last night? Where were you?"

"I told you, I was with Wendy."

Another streak of lightning. El dodged it by a hair, far too preoccupied with trying to recapture her sense of direction. The waves weren't even visible anymore, and the more she got closer to the screaming voices the more the storm around her came alive.

"Stop lying to me!"

It didn't take much for El to recognize the second voice—the one Billy's father was accusing. But the distress in her voice had made it difficult to recognize the joyous woman in the long white dress and yellow sandals. This loud, angry man seemed to have that effect on people.

One look and she had found all of them, surrounding a dining table no bigger than the one at the cabin. Billy was shrunken into his seat as his parents fought nearby.

"I'm not lying to you!"

He didn't bother to acknowledge a single word she said. Not unless it fit what he believed. This man was completely blind with rage.

"You saw him again, didn't you?" It was only at this moment El realized the woman's wrist was fighting and twisting against the man's tightened grip. So much so that she could hear the pained cries she was trying to muffle. "Didn't you?!"

"GET. AWAY. FROM ME!" She bellowed, finally managing to wrench her arm free. Knowing him well, Mrs. Hargrove beat him to the punch before he could throw it. She caught the venomous glint in his eyes as he stomped toward her, but glass plate in hand, she was ready. "I said, GET AWAY!"

The plate shattered against his skull, sending Mr. Hargrove stumbling. If only he had stayed down.

"You–" the venom in his eyes turned murderous as he charged forward. "--You whore!"

The next few moments flew past her in a sandy blur, but El still caught it all. She watched helplessly, hand involuntarily flying to her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp as it all unfolded before her.

"STOP IT!" Billy roared, charging forward in a daring attempt to protect his mother. He had come full force at his father's chest, and in his anger managed to hold him off if only for a moment. "Don't hurt her!"

"No!"

"DON'T HURT HER!" Billy's shrieks were soon cut short as his father hurled him to the floor.

"You bastard!"

But Billy was already throwing himself to his feet and after his mother who, in a matter of seconds, had been knocked into the table with the full force of her husband's fist across the face.

"Mom!"

Another squall from this rainless storm had already introduced El to the next memory. And another distressed Billy.

"I don't understand," his voice is so so small. He's heartbroken. He's terrified. "Why not?"

He was sitting on the floor in tears, huddled against his bed as he clutches the phone close to his ear.

"Please, Mom, don't do this," he begs. "Please come home,"

She had left?

"No. How long? How long?!"

Billy's mother had left. And she hadn't taken Billy.

His eyes screwed tight and squeezing out fresh tears, Billy wails his final plea into the receiver. "I miss you!"

A figure darts past her, concealed in the clashing storms of violets and deepened blues making El whirl around on her heel.

"Get back here!" The figure roars.

The voice and its words were already so callous, that El was almost half-surprised to see a still young Billy. He was older than the previous memories, but not by much. He looked about her age, maybe slightly younger, but already there was so much anger within him.

He had just tackled another kid to the ground. Spit was flying from his mouth as he screamed, his knees remained pinned on the kid's stomach as he threw punch after punch after punch.

"Get up! What, are you scared to fight me? You scared?!" Another punch and he climbed to his feet, taking extra measures to spit in the kid's face. "You scared?!" And then a kick. "Get up and fight me, pussy! Pussy!"

The sight made her heart ache in many ways for many reasons. Finally, she turned away, gladly allowing the icy storm to introduce her to the newest memory and take her away from this one. All the people who hurt Billy on her mind, just as well as all the people he would come to hurt himself.

She's walking face-first into the heart of the storm. She can feel it as she fights against the biting winds that nip at her skin and though El had thrown her arms up to shield a majority of her face, she is able to make out the newest scene before her.

"Billy, come over here," It was Billy's father again. El almost didn't recognize him with how calm he was. But her heartbeat still spiked when she swore she made out a flash of bright orange hair. "I want you to meet someone,"

Sure enough, standing hostage at the man's side was a decidedly grumpy, headstrong little girl El knew at once to be one of her now fiercest friends. Her Max.

"This is your new sister," he proclaims to a very angry-looking Billy. "Her name's Maxine,"

Despite the hostile hand on her shoulder and the glare Billy holds her in, she hikes her chin up in subtle defiance and introduces herself. Properly this time.

"Max," she corrects.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

El turns around at once when she hears the new voice. For it isn't new at all. It's Billy. The Billy she knows. Immediately, she's searching for the voice. She's searching for the source. So much so, that the memory playing out before her isn't even registering. Neither is the fact that both memories are now colliding with one another in a confusing echo.

"Who's there?!"

"Shake her hand,"

–"I said, shake her hand,"

–"I said, who's there?!"

His voice, she realizes, is farther and farther from his and Max's younger selves. It's out of the shadows of his mind, somewhere lost in the raging storm of scarlet growing brighter and brighter as she nears. He's screaming—endless, tortured screams—and El fears just what else is left to find. Two white orbs of light shine through the reddened fog, almost like eyes. But it assures her she's on the right path. The moment she passes the final threshold of the storm's many layers, everything changed.

All at once, everything had fallen silent. The winds and the fog were behind her, and the chill zipping down her spine was colder than ever. El had been completely engulfed by the scarlet storm clouds, and they were closing in quickly.

Her eyes stay fixed on the sky above her as the storm clouds in question close in on all sides. A difficult thing it was, to make El feel truly small. But she did—now a mere speck in the midst of a thunderous blood-red whirlpool of clouds.

A speck in the eye of the storm.

The sun had already set when El spoke to them next. Needless to say, she had put them all through quite the scare. But her sudden evening breaths and the encouraging message she had to relay brought much-needed relief to everyone waiting.

"I think I found it. The source."

"Where El?" Max pressed quickly. Even she had grown worried in the prolonged time her friend had spent in her brother's mind. Needless to say, she was eager for her to get out and return to safety. "Where are you?"

"Brimborne," she recites, eyes locking on the rushed overhead sign with a sinking feeling already taking root in her gut. "Steelworks,"

Jonathan launched himself up off the arm of the chair and ran for the phonebook he had left on the kitchen counter. Nancy met him halfway across the room behind the couch where he had returned, already halfway through the book and thumbing as quickly as he could to the 'S's.

"Steelworks, steelworks, steelworks," he mumbled. "Here steel. Uhh-- Found it! 6622 Cherry Oak Drive!"

"That's close," Nancy gasped.

"Oh shit," Y/n hissed, her nails unintentionally digging into the back of Will's hand as she squeezed his hand in fear.

"Ow, ow-ow-ow!"

"El!" Mike called. "El, we found it. Get out of there! Get out!"

El didn't have to think twice. It was with great pleasure she allowed her eyes to flutter closed as she reached out for her ticket back. But it was too easy to grab.

She hardly had time to consider the command before she felt it again. That give in her gut as the ground was stolen from beneath her feet and it told her all she needed to know: it was happening again. And in all the worst ways.

Everything was wrong.

The very forces she sought to defeat were yanking her away from the world beneath her feet and any and all sense of her metaphysical self was taken with it. Like the riptide that was Neil Hargrove to have caught his son, this force had caught ahold of her. And it was all she could do but scream an empty cry for help as Billy's mind spit her back up.

...Time was strange in the void. It was... Flexible. And one who knew how to traverse its vast plains well enough knew also how to find the right story. Or perhaps, more importantly, they knew how to tell it.

El had found herself at her journey's beginning: falling helplessly through time as foreign memories and feelings passed her by. Completely in reverse.

The separation of Billy's bloodied head with the dashboard as the car is jerked back into place and his screams retract as it does.

The adrenaline is still there as the car spins out. It unwinds itself in her gut as it had in Billy's as they are both undone by time.

He had evolved past his shadowy confines at long last, though he still lurked in darkness. He was darkness.

Billy fought so desperately to cling to the iron doorway where they eventually lost his battle. With a blood-curdling scream, he was cast into--

And yet everything seemed to fall perfectly into place.

--Darkness. That was all that was left after the distorted voice died out with the rest of the booth. His eyes flew everywhere, but not for long. An impossible chill fell over his already frozen body when he realized--

--he was kneeling over Heather with his back to El, knelt over the floor. His dark gray tank and jeans nearly working to blend him into the darkness he's hiding in.

She was closer to the surface, but still so far. El was nearly free. And yet she never felt so far from home.

Heather's paled face was returning to El from far beneath the surface back in the ice bath. Her eyes were locked on El and her arms were reaching for her own. But much like El, she was hostage to this little time warp and its rules that would inevitably keep them apart.

But she was so close she could almost reach it.

She reached and reached but before she could ever break the surface and make it to the safety of El's arms, her frightened eyes were staring right through her before she was thrust back under the tub of ice by an invisible force.

She could see it. There it was. The homestretch. The very thing she had been fighting so hard to grasp.

His pupils dilate and closing in around them are several black veins that cloud the whites of his eyes as he--

--whipped around to face her, sunken, darkened eyes widening as they pierced her own.

Just in time, too.

It all happened so fast, even in the moment and he was left with nothing but the horrifying image of a bloodied tentacle attacking his face.

We were hoping to get started.

All Tom Holloway could do was peer up at the snarling monster from his one uncovered eye as he feels the icy darkness envelop him completely.

But we've been waiting.

All she saw beside the white spots swallowing her vision were the seething eyes of the Mind Flayer peering up at her and straight through her soul.

Waiting for you.

As he watched the life drain from your eyes, he hissed to the one he had been waiting in agony for all these months his final greeting--

Good thing I found you.

The sudden iron grip of freezing flesh snatching up her wrist hurtles El back onto her living room floor downing desperate gulps of air. She rips the headband clean off her head to reveal the light of the Television static casting a soft glow over herself, the darkened living room, and nothing more.

There was no one waiting for her. One look around from her spot on the floor—where they last left her—told her she was the only one in the cabin now. The kitchen was barren, the couch and chairs where she had left them were empty, and a terrible sickly feeling in her gut told her her friends weren't in either adjoining rooms.

Still, El couldn't help the broken call for those she sought most.

"Mike?" No answer.

Her throat was growing sore from the lump already forming inside. "Y-Y/n?"

El sniffled and jumped to her feet. "Max?"

They wouldn't leave her, El tells herself. Not them. Not when they went to all that trouble to make her feel safe in there.

"Y/n?!"

Not when they had each risked so much for her.

"MIKE?!"

"He can't hear you,"

Those four words were enough to still El's heart completely. It stopped the flow of blood in her veins in less than an instant. That voice and the instantaneous consequences it presented to her might as well have plunged her right back into the sand. Back into the ice.

She already knew he was here for her even before she turned to find his towering figure emerging from Hopper's room. And though the mask through which the Mind Flayer was hiding was void of all emotion, there still lies a dark glint in his dead eyes. The remains of a deadened smile waiting to jump out.

"You shouldn't have looked for me," It's almost like He's happy. "Because now I see."

He is happy. Even as he stands here, littered with scorch marks and faded smudges of dried blood staining his white tank. He is happy, especially as he takes the burning cigarette in his hands and snuffs out any remains light in the sand of the ashtray.

"Now we all see,"

Unable to help the tiny, frightened gasp to escape, El stumbled back as he took his first steps after her. Calmly, he strode forward after her with no urgency.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The red door. The deep crimson frame of the Holloway's front door peels open to reveal the disheveled forms of Janet and Heather: the two surviving Holloways as they step out onto their porch. And though their seared and sweating skin sizzles as it is enveloped by the warmth of the breeze, they begin their final journey. The front door El and her friends had visited only nights prior was now left open behind them. Abandoned. But it won't matter. They won't be returning.

They are going home.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

A curious look tilts his head at the sight before him. There's... amusement. This mighty hero of Hawkins—one of them anyway—cowering away before him. Dissolving into a pathetic pool of tears.

And though freezing in every way, his voice had such a scorching effect. El could swear she felt the damning words he spoke singeing away any remaining doubt in her mind that she had always been the monster.

"You... let us in,"

Movement in the corner of her eye, but she's much too horrified to look away. She's transfixed. Just like that, El is that scared little girl, all alone, back at Hawkins National Laboratory. Transported back to the night it all began when she first came upon the Demogorgan and opened the gate—the night she turned the world upside down.

"And now..." but then again, maybe she's not. There's hope yet "you are going to have to let us stay."

Her wide and wandering brown eyes ache to remain on the sight of her best friend—her Y/n—poking her head around the corner of Hopper's doorway where she remains hidden. Even as she ever-so-cautiously slips from the doorway and around the corner, careful that every step she takes is in step with Billy's so that she may travel undetected. But El is smart enough to know to steal every bit of attention she can so Y/n can remain that way. She only hopes the involuntary gasp of relief that escapes her mouth is mistaken only for fear. She needs to keep The Mind Flayer's attention on her, and that meant making him believe she was accepting her fate.

Sadly, that was no difficult task.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

All over town, the fourth of July spirits were reaching their peak of the night. The citizens of Hawkins, none the wiser to the spreading disease to have already infiltrated their loved ones: the rot of the Mind Flayer that had long since terrorized the Vale of Shadows, had at long last tunneled its way into the Material Plane.

One of countless victims is stilled where he stands when he feels a dark chill overtake his body and he loses full control. And though he's been here, the better half of the evening, flipping burgers for the block and watching his kids run and play on the lawn as the neighbors admire the first of many whistling fireworks, he can no longer stand to be here.

All he does know is the unceasing pull in his gut to follow orders. He knows he needs to go back.

Even if that means abandoning his family without a second thought and ignoring the concerned calls from his wife in his peripherals.

"David, where are you going? David?"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The young boy knew it too. He had been acting so strange since the other day, and now, the fireworks show he had been looking forward to all month...

"Adam!" called the other little boy, distraught and confused as Adam abandoned everything. Including him.

"You're gonna miss it!" he argues, wondering as to why the young blonde was so suddenly marching off in a daze. He was just leaving him! Why? "Adam!"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The blood roaring in her ears did well to remind her the dangers facing her (way too literally) were still very much a problem and far too real. The Mind Flayer still possessed Billy Hargrove and she had still willingly stepped into their snare that had landed her here. Strung up and too afraid to struggle less she make a fatal move.

"Don't you see?"

It was all she could do to lock her swimming eyes on Billy's own as he herded her all the way to the front door and ignore the sight behind him that dared to brew hope deep inside her chest. The sight of a bloodied up Y/n—but still very much alive—breaking her scorching gaze from Billy and silently grabbing for a very familiar fire poker from the previous year.

"All this time,"

El nearly stumbles when she reaches the edge of the carpet and yet it feels as if she has stumbled to end the edge of the world. There was nowhere to run.

But maybe she didn't have to. Maybe this time, Y/n had come to save her.

The sharp iron hook end she had placed in the palm of her hand was already beginning to turn. It was glowing red hot in the time it took her to catch up to Billy on the tips of her toes, hiding in his five o 'clock blindspot ready to strike at just the right moment. The handle of the poker was now in both hands and leveled with her shoulders, the glowing end inches from his neck and ready to deliver the fatal blow.

"we've been building it,"

It's about to happen. Could they have a chance? El isn't quite sure what the answer to anything is anymore, but she knows she's only ever been this afraid once in her life--

The trembling in Y/n's smirk halts for only a moment when she meets eyes with El and flashes her a wink. And for one glorious moment in this hell, she truly believes they will make it out alive together.

--but the lab didn't have Y/n.

"we've been building it..."

Y/n only has time to curl her lips back in a snarl, baring her teeth, and rearing the poker back to strike just as Billy shifts his teary smile on her.

"for you."

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

El's hand was already winching up from her side as she prepared to hurl him across the room—or just anything that could stop him from hurting Y/n. But he was already one step ahead; in a blur, he had wrenched the fire poker from her hands (all while managing to stun her with the butt end of it in her head as he did so) with his left and taken her hostage with his right. Before El could make any psychic moves (or physical) he raised his other hand in warning and tsked his tongue, wagging the glowing poker at El with a malicious smile.

"Let her go," El pleads, now through an impossible-to-see-through wall of tears. She wasn't even remotely sure if the words had made it out coherently and not just in a blubbering stutter. She was fully weeping now. Whatever hope had been building within her, keeping the tears at bay, had been destroyed.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The Flayed have come home. Dozens of them march across the dead grass surrounding the abandoned steelworks where they soon disappear inside.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

He has her now in his poisoned grasp—his large and half-charred hand holds her prisoner by the back of her throat and already she can feel the blood in her major arteries fighting to bring through to her brain under his fingers. But the thing that keeps her from fighting back—the thing that keeps El from fighting back—is the searing hot poker prodding into the back of the young girl's abdomen.

El and Y/n against the Mind Flayer once again, so it would seem. And yet, in this moment, here he was with all the cards. As if it wasn't much of a fight at all.

"After all that work,"

He knows not to waste this advantage he has over his opponent.

"all that pain..."

He knows just what bait to dangle.

"All of it..."

Just what picture to paint.

"For you two."

The Y/n he has conjured—the Y/n this one had practically manifested for him from the furthest recesses of her tortured mind. The strings on the last puppet in he needs to get to the true pest in all of his existence: Y/n Henderson.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The warehouse comes alive as dozens upon dozens more of Hawkins citizens flood in from every entrance that can possibly be found. They march in at a content pace despite the raging fires of the summer air burning away their skin and boiling the black sludge in their blood. Their tepid footsteps against the concrete are the first real signs of life its had in years. And yet there is no life in sight—especially as they head for a single steel stairway. They know their pain is coming to an end, as they are. They are returning home. Going back. They know in the end they will serve a greater purpose.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The poker sizzled as it was dug further into her back as he successfully guided Y/n forward step by step. She let out a strangled cry of pain, eliciting just the right reactions from El. She had been shrinking back in steady sobs despite her trembling hands occasionally reaching out tearfully for her best friend until she felt her back hit the kitchen counter. All the while pushing Y/n forward step by step to remind El just what could happen to her if she tried anything on him with her in such a vulnerable position.

This put a sinister smile on his face.

"And now its time,"

The grit of his teeth was visible through his vengeful grin as he tightened the hold on Y/n's neck so much so that his whole arm started to tremble and her face puffed up almost twice its size. Between this sight and the combined sound of what could likely be her dying breaths and the sizzling of the glowing iron pressing harder into her back, another powerful and horrified sob was wrenched straight from El's lungs.

"Stop it!"

Several tears are streaking down El's face and snot drips from her nose. For the first time in her life, she doesn't know what to do. Her heart felt as if it was skipping every other beat and the need to save her friend and herself from imminent doom without getting either of them killed was leaking out of her in other ways.

"Time to end it."

The windows began to crack, several lightbulbs nearby had burst. All the cabinet doors began to rattle and shake before blowing open full force (some even bouncing back shut) as her mind subconsciously reached out. The TV that still blared static in the living room shattered and shot out a prophetic burst of sparks threatening to sting the threatening force before her as he spits to El her first and only warning.

"We are going to end her,"

Y/n's back arches forwards as the poker breaks another several layers of skin, and though she is already hanging onto consciousness by a thread, her body still manages a pained and choked whimper as silent tears leak from her bulging eyes.

There are signs of pain in him too. The sweat coating his skin from the heat's exposure is telling but it only tightens the clench in his jaw as he seethes the words to El quenched only by the satisfaction of revenge. "and you will have to watch as we tear her limb from limb,"

"No! STOP IT!"

El's head is pounding. It can't produce the tears fast enough, but she still shakes her head 'no' with everything she's got as her lips sow the silent pleas that will never be answered.

"And when she is gone,"

Her hands half-instinctually reach to cover her ears to stop herself from hearing such horrid things. But they keep finding their way back out to Y/n, reaching out reflexively to do something. "No–"

But every time she does, the fire is wedged deeper into Y/n's skin, and the limper she grows in his grip. He's already dragging her shuffling feet across the wood floors as her body powers down.

"--we are going to end you and the rest of your little friends--"

"--No!--"

"--and then..." he is still pained. The trembling in his grasp has nearly spread to his whole body. There is even twitching in his face that has spread to his eyes. "we are going to end..."

His bloodshot, unblinking, watering eyes.

"everyone."

Eyes that now shed a single tear before the iron poker was wrenched back and driven right through Y/n Henderson's stomach.

All sense of time and sound ceased to exist in this moment—had they not, El would have surely heard the blood-curdling shriek she had released as her best friend was finally freed from the grip of the Mind Flayer and his latest host. She had barely stumbled forward, blood already peeking out from her swollen lips by the time Billy was hurled across the room and sent crashing into the wall.

El's arms were thrown out to catch the one she feared she had just lost but it was already too late. She was gone from her hands and El was finally out of the void.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

"NO~!"

A second time the headband was ripped off her head, the blood-curdling screech still leaving her lungs as her whole body fought the tortured image forced into her mind. A second time she finds herself on her living room floor in front of her veil of static.

"NO! NO!"

And for the first time, she finds herself completely outnumbered by people who love her and jump to their feet to help.

"El!"

Mike is the first among them, already throwing himself on the carpet and at her side. No one present fails to notice the jump in El when his hands gently offer her into his embrace. Her head whips to face his, her features ghostly pale and her arm already separating herself from him. Until she ultimately recognizes him by the worry in his eyes and his touch under her trembling fingers. In an instant she's collapsed into his arms, still choking on fearful sobs that are buried within his navy polo.

"El, its okay. I'm here. You're back, it's okay. El?" Mike coos. Tears are already forming in his eyes, just as much as the others lingering on edge nearby.

It takes far too long for anyone's comfort for her to adjust to the fact she's back in reality, and Y/n can't help but notice how violently she trembles collapsing further into Mike's arms. The hearts of El's friends were cracking in two, and for the first time in a long time, Mike, Y/n, and Lucas swore they saw the same fear in her eyes as the night they had found her in the woods.

Over and over the same word kept getting lost in Mike's shirt as she left. A word no one at first could decipher. All Mike could do was clutch her tighter, assuring her safety as many times as he had to. Max was so far on the edge of her seat in worry—ready to jump in at a moment's notice—she was practically halfway across the coffee table. Even Nancy and Jonathan had risen from their seats, frozen at the ready as they exchanged horrified glances with Lucas. And Y/n, she was clutching Will's arm so tight one might fear he'd lose circulation. But like everyone else, he was too worried about his friend to notice or care.

And when El came up for another hiccupping breath, the others finally caught the name she had been weeping endlessly in loss.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The enclosed space is soon overflowing with a sea of the Flayed that thrum endlessly with footsteps as they glide down the metal staircase and into the deep lake of shadows that sat under the steelworks warehouse. The only light that found its way down in the depths of Brimborne was the skylight leaking in from the doorway that illuminated the only possible clue to the sudden phenomenon;

Painting the concrete are semi-faded stains of blood and piles of bone that had found their way home. The new home promised to them by the seemingly never-ending pull in their gut. But the pull had mysteriously stopped when they reached the basement. But the presence of something dark and sinister remained.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Y/N!"

Her eyes met with Mike's for only a moment before he gestured for her with great urgency.

"El?" She asks. Her voice alone sends the girl into another wave of shock as Y/n rises from her seat and comes to kneel before her on the carpet. "El, are you ok--?"

Desperately she hurled herself out of Mike's arms and clambered into Y/n's, swallowing her in a bone-crashing hug that nearly knocked the two back before she could even finish speaking. Y/n could already feel El's tears staining her clothes and fearfully, eyes tearing away from her sobbing form to meet everyone's bewildered gaze with her own. All the while, everything in her telling her to hug El back with everything she had.

"El? Hey, come on. You're safe, you're back. We've got you," She mutters into her hair, brows furrowed despite her soft voice.

"You--" another hiccup steals her words, coercing another sob from her body. "--re dead."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The driving force—the pull—had not vanished but had instead morphed into a warm buzzing that grew intensely worse. It grew hotter and hotter, shaking the very bones in their bodies harder and harder as it spread to every cell at unnatural speeds. Their last thoughts—last true thoughts—were nothing but fear as the chemicals in their bodies worked with the virus in their systems that had taken over as host in their bodies and disassembled them completely.

One by one they twitched and lurched in agony before they fell to the floor, shattering at the many tentacle-like feet that was the force to have brought them all together. The force they had now truly become.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Carefully, Y/n takes her friend gently by the shoulders to meet her eyes with grave concern. "El, what are you saying?" It's not a question of miscommunication. She doesn't worry she has missed what El has said. Y/n fears she has caught it.

She gasped drastically for air. "You--" More sobs. To everyone's relief, with Mike's help, she was finally able to calm just enough to spit the words out.

"You-- were dead,"

It's easy for her to see now why conjuring a response is suddenly so difficult. Any attempt at reassuring El this time presents itself as neither easy, or worth the effort. Y/n can feel the many the shift in the room as everyone's gaze suddenly falls on her. But she can't bring herself to acknowledge them. Acknowledging their fears meant acknowledging her own and that just made all of this real. Surely, there was a mistake.

Y/n can already hear the weariness staining her tone as she tries to get the words out. "El... I'm fine, I'm okay."

That head that still lay on her shoulder shook fervently. Still weak from the shock in her system, she pulled herself back to meet her gaze through her own puffy eyelids.

"No," she insists through the obvious lump present in her throat. "It's not okay. He wants--"

Another gut-wrenching sob interrupts her words, but she powers through. And when she does, Y/n suddenly feels the weight of her worry collapse onto her shoulders.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The basement was filled with crunch after sickening crunch as body after body collapsed into nothing. All of them and their remains glistened in the single beam of light as they fled into the realm of shadows that held the true monster.

This monster that had poisoned Hawkins before. This monster that had spread its rot and death, and inevitable decay with everything it touched. It had spread and devoured and killed until all of Hawkins had been ensnared. All of that work, all of that pain... all of it for nothing. Everything he had accomplished—everything he was about to gain—only to be cut down just as his prey had stepped inside.

But not this time. No, this time he was careful, he was diligent.

The Shadow Monster planned to win because this time, he made sure the noose had already tightened.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"He's gonna kill you, Y/n. He says he's coming for you."

"...I think that's been established," She grimaces, unable to bite back the remark. But she couldn't quite help it. Fear was already gripping her heart and stealing any logical thought she could conjure in her mind.

"No," she scolds, shaking her head. "No, you don't understand. He has a plan. He," Another breath. "He's already coming for you. Not just him. The Flayed. All of this was made to stop you. To kill you. To kill both of us, and I--"

Another choking breath broke loose but in the presence of her friends—her Y/n, very much alive—she had managed to fight through it. That didn't stop Y/n or Mike from seeing the mixture of horror and grief swimming in her eyes as her bottom lip fought to stay still as she revealed the horrid truth still haunting her.

"Y/n, I saw you dead," her voice is so low and broken, that it could hardly be heard. Breaking such a horrible thing to someone she cared for so much was almost as hard as witnessing it for herself. But she knows, if there's a chance it changes the outcome, she'd do it a thousand times over. "I saw you die,"

And just like that, El's head tipped back over into Y/n's shoulder where she buried her face in the crook of her neck. Y/n had hardly registered the arms clinging to her like a lifeline, the reality of what El had just admitted shifting her whole center of gravity. Her eyes are already far away, lost in the pattern of the rug under their feet as her arms numbly hook over El's back. This time in growing alarm.

Silence has returned to the entirety of the cabin but no one can bring themselves to utter even a single syllable. Like her, they are rendered catatonic by the news. It's as if the air itself is made of glass and one movement could shatter their whole reality.

But Y/n's reality felt pretty broken already. Her entire body was numb, her heart had stilled and despite the unspeakable look of horror burning brighter into her skull than any of the others, all Y/n Henderson could feel in this moment is the invisible noose already tightening around her neck.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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Maintaining mental health is important and seeking help can be necessary to stay healthy. In this article, OnlineCounselingPrograms.com has assembled a variety of mental health-focused content and resources to support young people of color."

55 Mental Health Resources for People of Color:

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And Many More Mental Health Resources Worth Checking Out!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @ba-responds ​ @night-yoarrbe @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @nightbu-g @spiderbitch69420 @dreadmars @kurodach @honeyxbeexqueen @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mymomsdisappointment

THATS RIGHT MY LITTLE GAY BABIES, EL HOPPER IS OFFICIALLY TAKING THE MANTEL OF LI AND SWOOPING IN FOR YOUR HEART ♡♡♡

Look at this sweetheart!! Are we at all surprised?! The chemistry between her and the reader has been completely authentic and natural from the very beginning. And something I've never had to struggle to write. Like Will.

Speaking of Will, let's not forget about him. You two still have some good times ahead of you, but the end of the road is in sight. It's inevitable. But so were the blooming feelings for his other best friend. Cause that's just it, right? Sometimes you thing one feeling is another for soo long and then it just. Clicks.

Doesn't mean a relationship has to end. Not always. Sometimes, in cases like these, it simply...changes.

But I can't give it all away. That's what the prologue is for, silly! Now go, go! Enjoy the crumbs through a new perspective and give the prologue a thorough read 👀😁💕

Until next time...!

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

If Y/n and the others thought the ride to the hospital had been a long and cramped one, they were sorely mistaken.

The journey back was excruciating.

It was long and complicated, figuring out a quick and efficient way of getting everyone changed and refreshed before hunkering down at the cabin but they somehow managed. Many of them, like Y/n, had to figure out a way to explain their absence.

It was clear to Will guilt was plaguing her mind; she had barely spoken in the time it took to get from the hospital to the Hopper Cabin. When her eyes weren't watching her fiddling hands, they were trained on the deep, almost blackened emerald hues of the valleys and trees as the station wagon made its way to the edge of town. Seeing her in this state, he was grateful to Lucas and Max who offered them the backseat, volunteering themselves for the squeeze in the trunk.

"Did you see your mom?" Will had asked, taking advantage of the noise pollution in the car. The windows had been rolled halfway down on either side in the backseat, filling what the infectious melodies of the Creedance Clearwater Revival's Bad Moon Rising couldn't. And despite the fact more than half their friends were nodding off in their seats, Will lowered his voice in a way only she could hear. "Was she really upset?"

It was a moment before she spoke, but he knew she had heard him judging by her hands. Her fingers started picking just a little bit harder at the tiny chip in the zipper of her new windbreaker. When she did speak, her eyes remained on the scenery zipping past her window in a blur.

"I forgot she was working today," her voice was quiet, like Will's. But he knew somehow it had nothing to do with the possibility of any prying ears. Her e/c eyes were glazed and tired, void of their usual vibrance. She looked lost in thought, even when her brows knit together in a gentle frown. "It's weird. I remember how upset we were when she got the news. About her work schedule, I mean... I can't remember the last time the three of us weren't together on the fourth—hanging out at the Roane County fair until sunset. Then taking advantage of the holiday and the fireworks and we'd go see a movie at the Hawk Theatre late at night. We'd get the whole place to ourselves, and we could be as loud as we wanted, making jokes and putting our feet up on the chairs."

The wistful smile that had crept up on her face was already beginning to fade, reminded of the reality of today.

"But she's had to pick up so many extra shifts these days, she hardly sees us anymore. Incredibly, she hasn't hunted us both down by now." She half-jokes. Will can tell she's trying to play off the worry that's building and he wishes she wouldn't. Without even realizing what they were doing, Will entwined his hand with hers to offer reassurance. Y/n, in turn, laid her head to rest on his right shoulder. "She's gonna be gone through most of today so I left her a note. Said I was sorry, and that Dustin and I were with you guys at the fair."

A certain quiet returns. One filled with the sounds of the occasional clicks of the car's turn signals, the rushing of the air through the windows, and the soft snores of Max, Lucas, and Mike all asleep on one another's shoulder together in the trunk. With the occasional addition of El's head softly thumping against the glass with every other bump in the road as she slept. But all Y/n is thinking about is whether or not the note and the added bowl of chicken noodle soup she had left for her mother in the microwave were enough to quell even some of her mother's anger.

"I hate lying to her, Will," Y/n admitted finally, her voice incredibly tiny.

It was a rare thing for Will Byers; to not have an answer or a simple remedy. Specifically when it came to his best friend and love, Y/n Henderson. It made the few seconds of silence feel like a few eternities. He thinks of his own mother and his relationship with her. She had and does continue to go to the ends of the earth to protect him and his brother, and would unquestionably do the same for Y/n and the others. He realized just how often he took for granted her knowledge of the Upside Down and Hawkins Lab. It led him to ponder, if only for the briefest of moments, what it would be like if he had powers to hide from someone so important.

Resting his head atop hers, he finally spoke. "She knows you love her," he says, his voice still a delicate whisper. His eyes subconsciously drift between the dashboard and his brother. "And you're doing it to protect her. Sometimes that has to be enough,"

When Y/n didn't say anything, he had feared he had upset her. But the soft movements of her head nestling further into his shoulder, the top of her head burrowing into his neck, put to bed any such fears.

The silence between them stretched on, basking them in the calm ambiance of the car, the contemplative thoughts that came with the past four days, and the comfort of each other's embrace. The moon was still out, shining among the stars, and save for their collective cosmic glow, the occasional streak of gold grazed their faces from the passing streetlamps outside. It was the most peace either of their exhausted minds could recall, but they had a clear enough mind to know they needed to enjoy it for as long as they could. And so, in this, their own tiny crumb of peace, they allow themselves to succumb to the temptations of sleep. But not before Y/n's small, hoarse whisper reaches Will's ears from under the song of the wind.

"Thank you, Will. I'm not sure what I'd do without you,"

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

By the time the team of Flayed hunters reached the cabin, the first light of dawn was breaking through the trees. Birds were singing a merry tune, squirrels chattered amongst their branches, and the morning sky painted the forest in a glow of corals and golds. The morning air was a welcoming change to the stuffiness of the car nobody realized had accumulated after all that driving and had their town not been under the constant terror of inter-dimensional monsters and unheard of conspiracies, it would have been the perfect morning.

One by one they filed out of the station wagon, most groggy from sleep or lack thereof. El stumbled sleepily to the front to lead her friends up the porch and through the locked front door. Y/n and Will weren't far behind, neither of them aware of how endearing they secretly found the other looking as sleepy as they did: Y/n rubbing at her eyes and Will letting out a yawn.

The cabin was a welcoming sight to all. The cushions on the couch and Hopper's recliner looked extra plush today, and the fully stocked kitchen practically called their names. It was no surprise when they all broke off in scattered groups, seeking either food, rest, or first turn at the only restroom.

It seemed Y/n was the only one not sure what to do with herself. She stood stopped at the entrance, taking in the familiar sight as the others flooded in around her. Lucas was the last to enter, but she only half registered the sound of the closing door behind her. Her mind was too muddled with deja vu.

Though that night had been one she often chose to forget, it came rushing back the moment she filed in through the door in line after Nancy and Jonathan. The burst of laundry detergent and pine hit her nose as she walked through the door, and when she looked down at the coffee table she half expected to see El's completed firework puzzle from last year.

"Y/n?"

The kind voice to pull her from her thoughts was not the one she had expected, but it was a welcome one all the same. Standing behind the counter and watching her with an empathetic smile was none other than Nancy. The very girl to have brought her comfort on that night.

"You okay?"

Her lips pulled into a grateful smile, and Y/n nodded. "Yes," she answered, and she meant it. Pleased to hear it, Nancy nodded with gentle relief. And no sooner had she, was her attention called away by Jonathan, leaving Y/n once more to her thoughts. But the truth remained the same. Y/n was okay, and for very good reason.

She was quick to return to Will's side, seeking the comfort his presence gave. He had been so swept up in memories of his own he hadn't been anticipating the hand gently cupping his cheek, guiding his eyes to meet familiar hues before her lips were on his. The kiss was chaste but full of care and warmth—something driven right from their hearts. He had hardly had the chance to ask Y/n what had sparked the sudden act of affection before she had pulled him into her embrace.

The wiggle of her chin as it burrowed further into his shoulder was only noticeable to him, as was the tiny exhale he could detect as a breath she had long since been holding back.

"You sure you're okay?" He asked, quiet enough for only her to hear. His head was still on her shoulder, their hug from over, but his eyes still wandered the cabin where the others prepared—unknowingly answering his question before she could. Nevertheless, he was still happy to have this moment to just themselves.

He felt Y/n's grip on the hug tighten just ever so before he heard her voice in his ear. "I'm just so glad you're here with us, Will. I'm so glad you're you,"

Will could practically hear the shatter of his heart in his chest. Regret from last year haunted him—would haunt him for the rest of his days. Setting that trap in the hub, sending out the Demodogs that killed Bob and who knows how many other people. He hurt so many people.

But there was something about this moment. Maybe it was thanks to the dawn of a new day. Maybe it was the part of his heart he was holding against his chest at this moment. The one telling him such sweet things. Or maybe it was a realization yet to come.

But Y/n was right. He decided it, then and there; he was here, with her, as himself. And he was going to do everything in his power to help protect the people of Hawkins. But that started with helping to protect the girl to have stolen his heart.

"I'm sorry," he says, his heart weighing heavy in his chest at the thought of the last two years through Y/n's eyes. It was often easy to forget what she and the others had gone through on their end.

Her hands moving to his shoulders, Y/n pulled away, her wide eyes filled with concern. "Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know, I guess I just," Will didn't have an easy answer. He merely shrugged, finding it difficult to meet her eye. "I'm sorry you've had to do it alone,"

Her expression softens; the hardened look of concern melting into a delicate, grateful smile.

"Don't apologize," she insists. "You don't ever apologize for that. Besides," He followed her gaze around the cabin as it trailed the others spread out amongst the cabin. When he looks back into her eyes, he knows her words are sincere. "I haven't been alone,"

The tiny tug in his lips doesn't last long, for his face falls as soon as hers does. "Speaking of," she says. Quickly stepping around Will and to the group's last-minute go bag filled with an odd mix of everyone's last-minute essentials that sat at the breakfast bar. No sooner was her supercomm in hand and a look in her eye as she made her way to the front door. "I gotta make a call,"

||𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

'It's okay, Mike. I can do this,'

I don't have to look at the door to know it's still closed and she's in there, straining herself for the good of the group. I should be more supportive—I should be proud that she's always ready and willing. Part of me is.

The door is still closed.

I just need to get moving, get my mind off of it. If I can.

Pushing myself up off the couch is a good start, particularly since I haven't done anything in the last ten minutes but bounce my leg and lose a staring contest with El's bedroom door since she went inside. I find myself in the kitchen at Will's side without a thought—my reflexes just took me there.

He turns away from the closing fridge, grumbling to himself something about the only food around being Eggos.

I guess he hears me chuckle, even when I didn't even realize I had when he meets my eye and lets loose a small laugh of his own. We meet at the counter, and my hands subconsciously fiddle with the lip of the countertop as I nod at the cabinet past his head. "'m pretty sure they keep cereal in that cabinet."

Will pulls his head out of the bottom cupboard and redirects his search to the upper cabinet. His eyes light up when he finds the box of Lucky Charms and I nearly have the energy to laugh. He says a thank you under his breath as he pours a bowl, and I try my best to ignore the fact that we're alone together and why that might possibly make me so jittery.

It's been hard to be alone with him these days. Scary, even. It's messed up how tempting it is to be grateful for something even scarier to take the focus off of my feelings—something like the Mind Flayer. But it's hard when I've nearly lost him twice now.

"You want a bowl?" I felt a subtle jolt in my bones at Will's voice pulling me from my thoughts, thankfully I don't think he noticed. He pointed to the open cabinet he was ready to shut, before hitting a thumb over his shoulder at the freezer. "Or do you want some Eggos, or something?"

I looked between the Lucky Charms and the stockpile of Eggos I knew laid just beyond the freezer door, mulling it over with too much thought.

"I'm fine," I lied. "I'm not that hungry,"

I was starving. But frankly, I was too nervous to do anything about it. Pretty sure my appetite was halfway spoiled already, so it's not like I was completely lying.

Will nodded, and proceeded to finish making his breakfast. Fetching and retrieving the milk in silence, he dug out a silver spoon and leaned against the counter against the sink. I was only partially aware of my fingers still fiddling with the mortar holding the counter together under the lip.

"How are you holding up? W-with everything?"

He picks his head up from his cereal and swallows the bite in his mouth after some thought. "I don't know," he shrugs. I should have known he'd try to play it off. "One day at a time I guess,"

I glance over my shoulder to assure no one was listening—they weren't by the looks of it. Lucas and Max were snacking on Cinnamon Toast Crunch gathered around the coffee table with Nancy and Jonathan as they exchanged theories. Knowing I was in the clear, I stepped around the counter and further into the kitchen, leaning against the inside of the breakfast bar and next to Will.

"Will, you know you can--,' I sighed, already inwardly cringing at the irony of my next words considering my previous track record. "you can be honest with me about this stuff. I get it, man. I do. What you went through last year was... scary. It was really scary,"

He doesn't say anything. He just continues to fiddle with the spoon in his bowl. When he looks back up, it's hard to meet his eyes.

"I appreciate that, Mike,"

I smile a little.

"And I won't pretend its not hard coming back from something like that," he shakes his head, growing into his bowl again. But this time, he quickly pulls himself back up with a small shake of his head. "But to be completely honest, it's not me I'm most worried about,"

I know immediately who he is talking about. While Will is exactly the kind of person who worries about others—while I know he's been worried about all of us since the return of the Mind Flayer—there's one person in particular who we've all been keeping an unspoken close eye on. Guiltily, my eyes trail across the walls and focus on the figure to have stepped outside shortly after we first got here. She had been pacing the porch ever since. I hadn't realized until now just what she was doing, and my heart sank when I finally caught sight of the supercomm in her hand.

Of course Y/n was trying to contact Dustin. It didn't matter we already failed to get ahold of him, nothing was gonna stop her from trying.

I sighed into my hand, sort of embarrassed for not picking up on this sooner.

"She's not giving up anytime soon, is she?" I ask already knowing the answer, hesitating to pull my eyes off from my friend and back on Will.

"Can you blame her?"

My shoulder sagged. "No," I mutter, making my way to the patio door. "No, I can't."

'You drew first blood, metaphorically speaking, so you have to apologize.'

The door was still open, but the screen stood before me and the porch. I could hear the soothing sounds of the forest almost as clearly as I could hear Y/n calling into the comm as she paced.

"Dustin, this Y/n. This is a code red. Get yourself to safety. I repeat. This is a code red. Over."

'A real apology, not a fake one, and not out of defense.'

"Dustin, this is Y/n. I repeat. This is a code red... Dammit, Dustin—please. respond! Are you alive? Are you safe? Over."

Shit... Here goes nothing.

The screen door creaks as I push it open and step outside, but I'm reluctant to even leave the doorway when she stops mid-pace to look at me. It's obvious she has little patience as it is, and I'm pushing it just by being here.

"I know you already tried Mike," she sighs tiredly, fiddling angrily with the dials as she tunes the settings. "but I'm not gonna stop as long as we have even a moment to spare. Not with that thing out there,"

I finally leave the doorway and close the screen behind me when she plops herself down on the top of the porch steps with a huff. She's still fiddling with the comm in hissed curses, and she digs into her pockets after taking off the back. Reluctantly, I cross the porch and lean against the railing, looking down to see her dumping the batteries into her hand.

"Before you lecture me about wasting power, after these, I'm about two battery packages away from no charge. We're set for another week at least. Not counting what we can get here,"

"I know," is all I say.

And all she does is glimpse up at me before going back to work.

Neither of us say anything for a moment, and I grimace out at the woods. It really sets in just how long it's been since we last got along.

Clearing my throat and looking wearily back down at Y/n, I give it my best shot. "Can I sit?"

She doesn't say anything, and I bite back the urge to scoff. But I know that'll just land us in the middle of another fight. I unclench my fists at my sides and try to think about what the others would do.

Her leg is bouncing up and down sporadically as she works, telling me the reason for her silence. It hits me I don't need to know what the others would do. I need to know what I would do. What I used to, anyway.

"Are you... alright? With your anxiety and everything, I mean?" God, this couldn't be going worse.

Y/n looks up at me again from her work, this time with suspicion. Like I had started speaking Martian or something. Her eyes narrowed a little and I could tell she didn't know if she could trust me.

'Can you blame her?' I find myself biting back another urge to scoff. Get out of my head, Will.

I sighed, weakly throwing my arms out to my side in guilt and embarrassment, just as uncomfortable as she was. "Believe it or not, I'm totally serious," I tell her, not bothering to hide how exasperated I sound. Or feel. This was embarrassing, and I'm angry. I'm angry at myself.

"I am... I am trying. I guess I'm just sorry I forgot what that looks like. And for everything, really. But maybe there's a better time for all that, so..." I awkwardly nodded to the cabin door. "I'll leave if you want. But I just wanted to say that. If, you know... You were... open to hearing it? I guess?"

Fuck. Should I leave the country? Maybe I should leave the country.

Her eyes haven't met mine in a while, but she's long since forgotten about the walkie. She's just staring out at the woods past the stairs, lost in thought. Even her legs stopped bouncing, which is bone chilling.

"Forget I said anything. I'm sorry I bothered you," I say as I made my way back to the front door. I just hoped it sounded as sincere as I meant it. "Good luck with Dustin--"

"--Did you mean it?"

My hand stopped on the handle of the screen door before I could open it. I looked over my shoulder at Y/n, confused.

"What do you mean?" I almost ask her if she means what I said about me being sorry. But I've known Y/n long enough to sense she's talking about something else. I'm just scared to know what.

Her voice is quiet, almost scared. She was vulnerable, which was something she hadn't been around me for a very long time. Neither of us had. She was turning over her shoulder to look at me, but it was like her eyes couldn't bring themselves to look any further past the railing of the front porch.

She was scared to meet me halfway. So I turned to meet face her, giving her my attention to show I was listening.

"All this," she says, gesturing between the two of us. There's a look in her eye I've seen so many times this past year and a half. One I wish I could say I haven't buried underneath anger. She's sad and tired as she sets her attention out to the trees and her fingers begin to fiddle. I remember her always saying she loved the woods despite how she was found—it was her safe space. "everything between us—all this fighting. The fact that we haven't truly been friends since the night Will came back..."

Y/n finally looks at me. When she finishes, I have to strain to hear her voice over the subtle breeze in the trees and my entire body goes rigid.

"...you're jealous?"

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

a.n. ppl who predicted y/n overhearing Mike, how does it feel to win 😂 I WANTED TO SAY SOMETHING SO BAD

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @ba-responds ​ @night-yoarrbe @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ @stranger-things48 ​ @nightbu-g @spiderbitch69420 @dreadmars @kurodach @honeyxbeexqueen @dreadmars @bilesxbilinskixlahey

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Static. That's all there ever was.

In a matter of time, the obnoxious coat of static returned to the air of the Hopper Cabin with a simple click of the television dial. With all (but most) discussions aside over an impromptu and makeshift mid-afternoon lunch for all, El promptly returned to the floor just beneath the TV.

As she prepared herself for her next journey, she was privately reminded of her days shut inside, searching for her friends in her loneliest of moments. The thought of what she was about to do did in fact twist knots in her stomach, or however Y/n had said it. But she knew with complete certainty she could stand to. If it meant finding the source and stopping the Flayed—if it meant protecting the ones she cared about, then so be it.

"El," Mike's soft whisper reached her ears just as she pulled the checkered headband from her hair. Lowering himself to the ground beside her to match her height, Mike spoke with as little influence as he could muster. "I know you think you have to do this, but you don't,"

Yet unseen from her spot on the floor just across the coffee table, Max scoffed noiselessly to herself at his attempts. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but having just spoken to El only moments ago as she saved a spot for Y/n, she couldn't help but feel part of her heart sink as Mike stole her away yet again.

"It's just, you've only done this before once. A-and you're mom--," Mike quickly interjects himself when he sees the almost wary look in her eyes. He didn't know if it was directed at himself, or her her plan, but he was too afraid of messing up again to not try and correct himself. "She loved you and wanted you to know what happened. But Billy's mind, is sick—diseased. The Mind Flayer is in him,"

Had he gotten through? Mike wasn't at all sure, and he was less convinced by the second. It was the clench around his heart and lungs tightening with every thought that drove him. He could see that now. And what he thought at first to be a contemplation on her face as he spoke had quickly revealed itself to be the misty eyed result of mourning she was burying within her at the mention of her mother.

"He can't hurt me." She states, her tone almost dipped in warning. "Not in there,"

"We don't know that,"

Mike is grateful for El and her ability to detect the fear behind his eyes and voice. For no sooner had he uttered the words did she turn fully to him, taking his hand carefully in her own to lock his gaze in hers.

"Mike," her voice was soft and light, like a feather. It was pleading. And that grip on his heart shifted into guilt. "I need you to trust me."

A blush returns to his cheeks when his eyes drift over to Max—only just now sensing her prying ear. But all she can give him is a harsh look, screaming for him to answer the girl they both cared for. Doing what he could to clear his head of all anxious thoughts, Mike gave El a nod.

"Yeah," he agrees. "just be careful."

El gave his hand one last thankful squeeze as he rose from the floor and returned to the recliner, not at all aware he wasn't the only one with a flutter returning to his heart. The headband and photograph quickly reclaimed their place as El's priority, and as she ran the muted pink, blue and gold splattered fabric between her fingertips she was certain those days of isolation were over.

The footsteps she heard treading back in from the kitchen only confirmed this. Y/n, Lucas and Will had returned to El's side, (nearly) completing the set and putting to bed any lingering unease she was alone in this world. And as she secured one of the first gifts she had ever recieved around her eyes to begin her journey, El thought to herself just how drastically her life had changed in such a short amount of time.

But that begged the question, if not in the farthest, darkest corners of her mind: just how quickly could it be taken from her?

The answer wouldn't find her, not immediately.

For just when she thought the cold unknown of the void had been chased away by her friends, El found herself wandering the black chasm with a pit in her stomach and chill up her spine she knew far too well. The water she treads felt somehow hot and cold all at once; two conflicting temperatures existed together rather than as a whole—in this case, the usual lukewarm she could barely distinguish from her own body. It only made her want to get out of here faster.

That was until she finally spotted something in the distance.

A figure, his hands folded on his knees as

he sat unnaturally still and calm—something El had never seen Billy. The steps she treads to his bedside grow heavier and heavier, and so too sits the weight on her heart. With every step, the imaginary water at her feet grew colder and colder, sending jarring chills traveling up into her bones.

He was staring right through her. Waiting for her.

And yet much like her attempts with Mike and Y/n, even Billy didn't seem to notice her when she reached his side. His darkened, sludge-shot eyes were still locked

dead ahead on his bedroom door. He hadn't blinked, his shoulder had barely moved to breathe—even with the thin whisps of sunlight sneaking their way past his drawn curtains and warming his burning skin. He was completely unmoving, trapped within a trance.

It was up to El to wake him.

She savored every moment of her safety as she drew in a shaky breath, a whirlwind of possibilities flying through her mind. And then she took his hand.

Slipping her palm into his own with great caution, she begged her mind not to think of the last time his hands were on her—hurling her across the room and into unconsciousness. All the more reason to remind herself why she was here and what she was doing.

Relief swept over her in a flash when his hand easily went into hers without a fight. He wasn't responding, but he wasn't fighting her presence either. Maybe he needed a little push. To know she was there.

Billy.

He felt a call somewhere deep in his mind. From a girl he had encountered before. A girl his sister knew. A girl The Voice hated. One he had hurt before, but that might have been a dream.

Can you hear me?

Billy can't remember the last time he had been allowed to sleep. So many times things had just blurred together in a black haze—moments where he'd dream strange dreams only to realize he couldn't remember ever going to sleep. And this. This was one of them. And this had happened before. She had happened before. She sometimes intruded on his dreams and the Voice didn't like that.

I want to see.

She says. Her voice matches the blurry picture that had just appeared in his peripheral vision. It was her. The girl he hurt—the girl he was expecting. She was sad. She was sad and worried, and reaching out to him. Billy doesn't understand why he's supposed to hate her but he does.

I want to see what happened.

Billy hates her because He hates her. And now she has found him. Just like He said she would.

His misty eyes meet her own and for only a moment hope fills El's chest. And his sudden iron grip on her forearm just as soon snuffs it out. She yanks and tugs trying to wrench her arm free but his grip just tightens as he seethes up at her.

Her struggles carry through with her even outside the void where everyone watching comes alive with worry.

"Something's wrong," Mike pales.

But no one can stop it. Not even El,

and certainly not Billy who remains unblinking as he keeps her tethered. Panic has completely consumed her heart thanks to the familiar grip, instantly awakening the small, fearful girl she had been so many years ago.

But El knew better. El knew better than to ignore that little girl cause that little girl got out. She fought and screamed and yanked and clawed, and then she fought some more until she was finally free.

Now she was free in all the wrong ways.

He had finally let her go and she had gotten her wish, but El knew at once it hadn't been by accident. Everything was wrong.

The world was falling away from beneath her feet and any and all sense of her metaphysical self was falling with it. Like some tide was ripping her out to sea, but she didn't have the time nor the attention to ask herself why she knew what a riptide was. But it had caught her, and it was all she could do but scream an empty cry for help as Billy's mind swallowed her whole.

The grip of the Mind Flayer had broken free from the barriers of his mind and was coursing all throughout his body, the dark mass staining the very blood in his veins and poisoning his system.

He had evolved past his shadowy form, yet he always lurked in darkness. He was darkness. His features remained spider-like, six long legs as tall as the ceiling it was now scraping, branching out into smaller tendrils like one grotesque, haunched tree.

El could see it as clearly as Billy had that day. She could nearly feel the fires of the sauna and Y/n's powers igniting in his bloodstream as if it were her own pain.

But it wasn't. She was still falling. Slipping deeper and deeper into his subconscious where Billy's poisoned memories passed her by in a blur.

As he watched the life drain from her eyes, he hissed to the one he had been waiting in agony for all these months his final greeting--

All Tom Holloway could do was peer up at the snarling monster from his one uncovered eye as he feels the icy darkness envelop him completely.

Some of them painfully familiar. Some of them new.

El flinched as he whipped around to face her, sunken, darkened eyes widening as they pierced her own.

He watched in a mixture of fear and hatred as she joined her friends in mounting their bikes. And for a moment, the small, dying part of Billy tries to understand why until he loses himself in another unfamiliar memory.

--You.

His pupils dilate and closing in around them are several black veins that cloud the whites of his eyes as he remembers.

El jumped back when a girl shot up from within so suddenly. It was Heather.

--You!

El watched helplessly in horror as Heather was pulled into the deep black abyss of her watery grave, crying out for help.

He had not uttered a word to her but she still heard it. A force so strong and revolted—so concentrated—she could feel the thought in her bones.

You.

There was that word again. Even as she felt herself slip away, the pain from that word alone outshines all darkness being presented to her.

It all happened so fast, even in the moment and he was left but nothing but the horrifying image of a bloodied tentacle attacking his face.

Darkness. That was all that was left after the distorted voice died out with the rest of the booth. His eyes flew everywhere, but not for long. An impossible chill fell over his already frozen body when he realized what was so wrong.

The fears.

A blood-curdling scream tore from his throat as his fingers burned; they were in searing pain as they clung so desperately to the iron doorway where they eventually lost their battle.

The fire. El felt it all. But nothing could have prepared her for the--

--lurch in his gut when the car spun out, followed by a searing pain in his temple that spread throughout his skull in a dull ache.

She had felt what she first believed to be the collision with his spun-out car but what was instead something much more real.

In her long and frightening fall, she had finally landed. She lay blinking up at a baby blue sky with a sun that threatened to blind her with its rays. But she never felt the impact. Come to think of it, she couldn't even feel the biting cold of the water lapping over her body and threatening to pull her away. Nor could she smell the mixture of shellfish and salty sea air on the breeze. And apart from the roaring of the water and the squawks of the seagulls taking off all around her, El swears she can hear the distant and fading voice of a woman somewhere close by in Billy's mind.

As she slowly pulled herself up, she notes the presence of water clinging to her body and the crunch of wet sand grains under her hands and knees. It's all she can make out. But the sight before her... El never thought she'd see such things in her lifetime; she was crawling on a field of sand that surrounded her on almost all sides. But before her—stretching out to what looked to be the ends of the earth and coming all the up to just to greet her was something she thought she'd never live to see; the ocean.

At that moment, a familiar voice broke through and she had never been more grateful.

"El," Mike eased. "Are you okay?"

The girl before them all had eventually slowed her breathing, but the despair was still carved into her features. "Are you okay?" He asked again, growing fearful. El drew in a shaky breath before them all and answered in a small, broken voice.

"I'm oka-y,"

"What's going on?" Mike asks.

"I'm... on a beach,"

"Okay, I may be dense," Lucas quipped, a wary edge in his voice despite his joking tone. "but last I checked, there weren't any beaches in Hawkins."

Max turned from her boyfriend and back to her friend with despondency. "What else do you see?"

"A woman,"

She was standing tall just across the sand, smiling against the sailing winds that whipped all around her.

"She's..." Breathtaking is the word El would have used had she known it. This woman, whoever she was, completely mystified her. "Pretty."

A small, saddened smile she couldn't explain crept across her face. Everything about this memory was wistful and sweet and perfect.

"I think..." It held the comfort of home. "I think she's looking at me."

El knew as she stood across from this mysterious woman that they didn't know each other. This wasn't her memory. But everything about it was so much more realistic than last year. And it didn't change the fact El felt a burst of warmth leaking out from her heart as this woman's laugh rang out over the roar of the waves.

Everything about this moment begged for El to soak up every moment like it would be the last. Perhaps it was thanks to Billy's subconscious, or it was simply a product of the atmosphere but she was fairly certain she would remember this for years to come; the sunhat hanging at her side in her left hand, its long and beautiful blue ribbon dancing in the wind. The flowing white sundress she wore came all the way down to her ankles as it whipped at her legs, but the thing El thought was so fascinating about it was the simple flower woven in on the front of her chest and forearms. It was so simple and elegant.

This woman was practically jumping for joy. "Woo!" She cheered. "You did it!" She was too preoccupied with cheering, she didn't seem to care the sand-covered sandals dangling from her fingers were ready to slip from her grasp at any moment.

A small pair of feet padding up the sand behind her alerted El to the young boy passing her by. He carried a large surfboard that wobbled him as he ran but what stood out to her most was the toothy grin splitting his face. This was the one who the woman was truly cheering on. This was the one she was so joyous for.

"I see... a boy,"

The boy chucked the surfboard into the sand, forgotten, and ran up to the woman bursting with glee.

"Did you see that?" He cried.

"Yeah, I saw that!" The woman placed a gentle hand on the boy's wet and blonde locks and pulled him close to place a fierce kiss on his forehead.

"That was at least seven feet," the boy declared in pride.

The boy, El was realizing, looked far too familiar. And it only made sense who it was, given who's memories she was in. Perhaps it was the disorienting shift that threw her off at first. Or maybe it was the fact she had never thought to picture him at a time in his life when he seemed so happy.

The woman did little to hide the concern laced within her laughter. "I don't know what it was, but it almost gave me a heart attack."

"Ten more minutes?" he pleads.

There's something that flashes in her eyes, something El has always been able to recognize. She knew fear well, and this woman was packing it away in the stalled moments it took her to decide. Her confidence had been cut in half. Her happiness siphoned away, but she put on a false smile for the boy anyway. But how many more could she manage?

"Yeah, okay, ten more minutes," the boy beams at her answer and zips back to the abandoned surfboard at El's feet. "But any longer than that and Dad's gonna get mad, okay?"

"Okay!" he chirps.

That fear is clearer than ever in the woman as the familiar boy, back now turned, runs home to the waves. And at this moment, it's just enough to loosen her tongue and confirm El's suspicions.

"Billy? Watch out for rip currents!"

The water lapped at his feet as he clutched the board tight. The grin he wore as he looked back at his mother was earsplitting. "I know," he reassured her.

The boy—this wide-eyed, giggling young boy standing before El...

"It's Billy," she concludes.

Behind her, something shifts in Max. "It's California," she says, almost as if to the others. "It's a memory,"

A young Billy Hargrove. A friendly Billy Hargrove. In the short time, she knew him—or heard of him—none of these possibilities ever occurred to her. That he was ever one of these things in his life. And certainly, never, a Billy Hargrove so carefree and happy.

And there he went, sailing off back against the water in search of his next wave, his mother left to her worries on the sand. It was all that was left of the little perfect bubble.

The far-off rumble of thunder was quick to pop it, pulling El's eye farther down the beach.

"I think I see it," she says finally. "The source,"

The atmosphere throughout the entire cabin immediately shifted. She had accomplished what she had set out to do, just as everyone there believed she could. But as that quiet crept back in and burrowed into the air, making room for the nerve-splitting ring in their ears, they couldn't help but wonder to themselves: would she truly be safe from him?

She wouldn't admit it, even to herself, but it was a question that was now seeding itself in her mind as she disappeared into the scarlet storm gathering in the distance.

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

How did he get here? Seriously, how in the hell did Hopper get here? How had this become his life?

When he accepted the job as Chief of Hawkins, sure he expected to deal with calls like petty theft, maybe even a ticket or two. Once, he even found himself a glorified secretary patching Eleanor Gillespie into animal control when that owl tried to nest in her hair.

But he never, not once, could have seen himself here: holed up in a conspiracy theorists' (an actual buddy of his, now) hideout in Illinois with his high school crush and waiting for the secret government contact of his to call him back so they could inform him of the infiltration of secret Russian soldiers into their town that was now attempting to reopen the gate to another dimension full of monsters that his adopted psychic daughter had fought so hard to close. Phew. A real mouthful, right? Well, that's what the cigarette was for.

Of course he wanted to get moving, but that wasn't currently an option. Did that matter right now? No. Both Joyce and Murray had very different opinions on his plan of action that Hopper would hear plenty about, whether he wanted to or not.

"You compromised me, Jim," said the man, finally beginning to break from his stunned daze. "You do realize that, don't you? I-I'm gonna have to relocate."

"How long do we wait?" Joyce was already standing over his seat on the couch, her patience non-existent.

"As long as it takes," he answers, tucking the lighter back into his shirt pocket.

"How can you just sit there being calm?"

"I am not calm!"

"Our kids are in danger!"

"You said they were at the festival!"

"Which is like...! Ten minutes from the gate!"

That damn, dumbstruck look on Hop's face tells her all she needs to know: he's set in his decision. But so was she.

Joyce throws her arms out in a huff and storms for the phone.

"What are you doing?"

Like hell he was gonna gamble with her boys—with any of those kids.

"Joyce–!" She picks up the phone and angrily swipes at the rotary dial, and Hopper hurls himself out off the couch with gritted teeth. "What are you dOINg?!"

Elsewhere, in an undisclosed location, the red light blinks a second time. The man stationed before the lineup of no-dial telephones—each one marked with a designated (coded) call sign, picks up the phone labeled--

"Philadelphia Public Library"

Joyce easily ignored the look Hopper was giving her as he towered next to her and answered the man on the other line, remembering the call sign Hopper had given.

"Yes, hello," she said stiffly. "Uh, this is ah, Antique Chariot's partner... Wheelbarrow,"

Hopper stalked off several paces in silent disbelief, raking his hands through his hair. Murray, all the while, pouting at the dining room table and zoning out. He didn't really care what else happened at this point.

"I don't think Antique Chariot properly conveyed the urgency of our situation--" Hopper found himself back at Joyce's side, squatting down in anger and shaking his fists.

"--What. Are. You. Doing?!" He whispered.

Joyce covered the phone with her hand and hissed right back. "We can't just sit around and wait for a call!" Her efforts to muffle her words, however, had failed.

"Ma'am, I'm gonna need you to stay calm,"

He soon felt regret for those words. And a little fear. For he had yet to find himself standing in the way of Joyce Byers and her children's safety.

"No. Don't you dare patronize me! I don't who you are, if you're some glorified secretary or what. But if you don't want to lose your job, here's what's gonna happen: When I hang up, you're gonna get up off your ass, and you're gonna go find Owens and tell him what's going on. We don't have time to talk about it and neither does he. He's gotta get to Hawkins, and he's gotta bring his men RIGHT NOW! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

Needless to say, he had no desire to make a mistake like that again.

"Y-yes ma'am,"

"Thank you!" She fires back, the hard edge still stuck in her voice. "And-- good day!"

The second the receiver returned to the phone, Hopper was already scolding her.

"It's been exactly one minute Joyce,"

Again, Joyce didn't care. He could pitch a fit all he wanted. But these were their children they were talking about. And not just her boys, not just his daughter. The Wheeler kids, The Sinclairs. And Joyce knew for a fact through her friend Claudia that she would be there with Y/n and Dustin too. Hell, the whole world was at stake if it was true the gate was being opened again. And she wasn't about to let everyone's hard work from previous years go to waste.

So with no remorse, she pushed his large frame out of her way and made her way across the room. "That's one minute too long,"

Hopper and Murray watched in growing defeat as she stirred a sleepy Alexei from sleep. Figures, any trace of anger was gone as she spoke to the man and attempted to sign to him their need to leave.

They were disappearing down the front hall, leaving the two men no choice. Hopper throws his arms up once in defeat before he follows and wonders to himself yet again...

How the hell did he get here?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"Honestly, I don't really feel anything,"

To say Steve felt anything other than the still throbbing of his swollen eye and the many welts across his body was in fact, a bald-faced lie.

Ever since those guards came back with the Colonel—and that so-called doctor with the funny blue medicine—things had been...weird. And a little fuzzy?

It didn't feel like anything at first. Nothing but painful anyway. A giant needle to the neck will do that to you though.

But the guards had long since left and Robin and Steve—both of which were back in their chairs upright, at the very least—sat in a sluggish haze waiting for the inebitable. Inevitable? Whatever it was, they didn't immediately realize it had already kicked in about five minutes prior.

Their limbs felt looser and their entire bloodstream felt like it was vibrating and a~ny previous worries sort of slipped into minor inconveniences.

So... nope. No, Steve didn't exactly feel anything alarming in particular.

"D' you?"

D' you? That was such a... open-ended question, wasn't it?

"I mean, I..." God, why was Robin so... relaxed? "I feel fine. I feel normal,"

"Yeah, I feel– I feel fine,"

Just what happened– What just happened? Like it was his brain going too fast for that–that mouth of his.

Maybe she didn't catch it.

Ahh who cares? That's wasn't the worst problem they had at hand, logically he knew this.

"I f-kinda feel gouud," he said, making an 'o' with his lips.

Pfft. Whoops.

Oh good, Robin was laughing with him. Heh. Yeah, this was pretty funny!

"You wanna know a secret?" She giggled.

Steve giggled with her. "What?"

"I like it too!"

God, why were they so worried? Fuckin– this was hilarious! Being scared before seemed just embarrassing now. Like, why were they so worried? That's what they wanted to know.

"Morons," Steve slurred through more laughter. "They messed up the drug,"

"They messed it up!" They totally did! Robin's stomach was hurting in laughter and everything... ugh, everything like her head felt heavy and kept dropping on Steve's head. But it didn't matter cause those morons-- it messed up. "Morons!"

"Morons!"

"Hey, morons!"

"Morons! MORoNS!"

"WoAH!"

So much giggling. Robin actually can't-- well-- hardly recall a time she giggled this much. For only a second, a sober thought breaks through, but she's still too giggly to care about it.

"There's definitely something wrong with us,"

Heh-heh. "Summnn's wronng,"

Suddenly, the door flew open with quite an obnoxious buzz either of these unwarrantedly intrepid Scoops Ahoy employees could have done without. That grumpy older man—a Colonel was it?—had returned with his men. One of which was now standing off to the side and laying out an assortment of things they couldn't see on one of the shiny metal tables.

But all Robin could think of as she got her first good look at the Colonel when he strolled past her was giving him her best glare. Oh yeah, she was totally giving it to him now, he had to be SO scared and wondering why she wasn't intimidated by his little games and--

How funny this little girl was, the Colonel had half a mind to laugh. Recoiling into the young man's back as he circled back to the boy like she was repelled with magnets. Her gaze trained on him wide and bug-eyed and never blinking. Safe to say the serum had kicked in. But would the young man be smart enough to tell the truth this time?

The look on Steve's face gave away his thought process: the seriousness of the situation was starting to settle back in. And hey, what were those tools for?

Robin battered her wide and reddening eyes, feigning innocence. "Would now be a good time to tell you that I don't like doctors?"

"Let's try this again," the Colonel all but purred as he stood, palms folded behind his back, before Steve. "Yes?"

His bloodshot eyes loosened so much they were practically going two directions, Steve nodded without thought. He wasn't really listening if he was being completely honest. He was too busy prodding at the inside of his cheek with his tongue to grasp the severity of the situation and-- oh shit. Shit! This was fucking bad, wasn't it? How did he not realize this?... His lip was gonna need stitches! Dammit.

"Who do you work for?"

This was it. The big question. The answer these imbeciles had endured hours of interrogation, torture, and now drugging that would surely haunt them for the rest of their lives—however much of it was left—to protect. Information that could save their entire operation. The Colonel could practically see it in the palm of his hands, he HAD them. He–

"...Scoops," The girl threw her head back with a long wheeze at his answer, which only made him laugh to himself more. "Scoops Ahoy,"

More noiseless, breath-stealing laughter.

The Colonel grit his teeth. "How did you find us?"

"Totally by accident,"

Pfft, morons. Didn't they hear the first time? Shit, this was so funny. Maybe it wasn't supposed to be, but it was. Their stomachs were beginning to hurt from suppressing their laughter and-- hey what was he saying?

The Colonel, who was clearly displeased with their behavior, had said something to the man at the table in Russian. The man nodded and picked up what looked to Robin like a shiny pair of pliers and made his way over to Steve.

"Where are you going with that, doc?" She mumbled hazily.

"What is that shiny little toy?" She heard Steve ask in the same instant. What came next, she couldn't quite make out from where she was sitting but she knew it wasn't good. "Woah, woah, hey, hey. Wait! No! Wait! Wait!"

Okay, sober thoughts returning. Sober thoughts returning!

"There was a code! There was a code, we heard a code!" She found herself screaming.

"Code?" The Colonel tsked as he made his way over to Robin. "What code?"

"'The week is long. The silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west', blah blah blah," she drawled. It actually made her laugh again. "You broadcast that stupid spy shit all over town and we picked it up on our Cerebro and we cracked it in a day. A day!"

The man's eyes tightened steadily into a seething glare as Robin continued.

"You think you're so~ smart but, a couple of kids who scoop ice cream for a living cracked your code in a day and now people know you're here--"

"--WHO knows we're here, little bitch?"

Ha! Does he really think they'll just tell him? The drugs weren't that strong! Heh, yeah it probably gave them way~ too much unearned confidence, and that little lab coat Doc had was looking pretty ridiculous but that doesn't mean they were just about to hand over--

"Uh, well, Dustin knows--" Steve hiccups.

Sober thoughts!

"--Hey Steve," she whirled her head to face his in a masked panic.

But Steve was lost in his own little world. Figures this dingus couldn't handle his truth serum.

"Yeah, Dustin Henderson--" "--STEVE-UH!--" "--he knows,"

A poisonous smile curled the Colonel's lips upon hearing this. "Dustin Henderson." Hands still tucked behind his back, the man stalked back to face the latest squealer with a knowing look in his eye. "It is your small, curly-haired friend?"

This time, a wide, loopy smile came to Steve's. "Oh, curly haired. Great hair. Small. Kinda like a 'fro. Yeah,"

Robin was beside herself with panic tied to this moron.

"Where is he?"

Her poor, poor dingus, lost in the sauce, her muddled brain thinks miserably. At least Robin had one hand on the wheel (for now) but Steve was just falling deeper and deeper. Poor poor dingus. And poor poor Dustin.

Steve laughed another dizzy laugh. He did his best to squint through the weird, shapy blur spinning over his eyes and laughing at Mr. Colonel and how he kept shrinking and growing in size like some funhouse mirror.

"Oh, he's long~ gone ya big asshole," Steve giggled. "And he's probably calling Hopper'n Hopper's callin' the U.S. Calvaryy'heh," More slurred laughter. "They're gonna come in here, commando-style, guns 'a blazin', and kick your sorry asses back to Russia, you're gonna be two pieces 'a toast'aheh,"

Okay now THAT was pretty funny, Robin couldn't deny it. She was wheezing again, along with Steve as the two dissolved into mindless, open-mouthed laughter. Hell, even the Colonel found it funny!

"Is that so?" He had asked, lowering himself down to Steve's eye line.

Well, duh. "...Yeah!" The Colonel looked up at the man (pliers still in hand) and the two shared a gleeful laugh of their own. These so-called Scooper Troopers truly thought someone was coming to save them.

Little did the Colonel know just how well his truth serum worked.

A familiar alarm to have landed themselves in hot water in the first place sounded a second time. Every head in the interrogation room whipped to the only door that led out into the hallway where the sirens wailed all throughout the base.

There was an intruder.

Two pairs of wide eyes fell back on a still very inebriated Steve, drunk on truth serum and an overabundance of confidence. He met their eyes with a smug lick of his bloodied lips and a cocky shrug that screamed "what'd I tell ya?" before the Colonel and his guards fled out into the hall to investigate.

The alarms were much louder out here thanks to the shrunken hallways, but that also meant it was harder for someone to hide. As he and his men turned the corner outside their command facility, he was less than pleased to find a gathering of his soldiers cluttering up the hall.

With one command, they scurried out of his way and at attention, fearful of what he was about to discover. He realized the room reeked of smoke and char just seconds before he laid eyes on the culprit. There, in the center of the hall, was a gaping hole in the floor roughly two feet wide that stretched down for miles. The edges simmered and broiled—almost as if the floor had been eaten away by acid.

Steve and Robin on the other hand, who had been left in the care of the Doctor essentially sat twiddling their thumbs, impervious to the chaos unfolding outside the door. But wait... Robin swore she could almost make out a distant voice. Almost like an odd sort of battle cry, if she had to guess, growing louder and louder as it approached—

The door was thrown open and charging in for the rescue, guns 'a blazing, was none other than Dustin Henderson and Erica Sinclair. The cattle prod in Dustin's hand was thrust right into the Doctor's chest before anything could be done, and Dustin, who was just now beginning to realize just what he was doing watched wide-eyed (still screaming) as the man convulsed uncontrollably. In less than a moment, the man collapsed, unmoving, unresponsive on the floor, his arm flipped up over his head.

"H-hey! Henderson!" Steve cheered. His lazy smile quickly fell into a thoughtful frown at the unusually lucky timing. "That's crazy, I was just talking about you,"

Dustin gratefully discarded the cattle prod on the ground in exchange for the task of loosening the binds on Steve's wrists, his heart thundering in his chest.

"Oh, my God!" Robin chuckled, thoroughly impressed. Erica was already making quick on her binds.

Dustin looked up at them each with stern eyes, a feeling somewhere deep in his gut worried getting these two to safety would somehow be the hardest task yet.

"Get ready to run,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Lifesong - Ukraine Relief:

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

- 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏 -

"You're such a jerk, Mike!"

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not a cheater!"

"--Guys!"

"Screw you! If anyone's cheating, it's you! You keep changing the rules anytime it's convenient for you,"

"--Guys, please!"

"Do not!"

"--Just stop!"

"Do too!"

The Henderson residence had played host to many of the Party's adventures in its day, but none in recent had been quite so tense as this summer evening. The sun was setting behind the tallest wall of timber and a curtain of clouds that set the shockingly secluded property aglow in a soft but vibrant lilac. The air was still very much hot though perhaps that felt the case to the young Y/n Henderson, all but absent of smoke blowing from her ears as she charged after her friend in a rage, baseball mitt chucked to the ground and forgotten.

Behind her on the sidelines, her brother, and two best friends desperately trying to put out the stoking fire between her and a young Mike Wheeler. The Wheeler boy in question stopped his angry pacing just steps from the extended porch to whirl on his feet, completely red in the face.

He threw his arms out in anger. "Guess what, Y/n?! Pointing out you can't play favorites as pitcher and actually have to pitch well to everyone isn't cheating or," he angrily got in her fuming face as he threw up air quotes. "'bending the rules'. It's enforcing them,"

"--Mike, lay off," Lucas eased. But Like Y/n, Mike wasn't listening. Both children were blinded by their anger.

Y/n let out a very loud, very obvious fake laugh. She was bitter and angry and at this point, didn't care. Mirroring Mike's exact actions from before she threw her arms out at her side before her hands landed on her hips. "Yeah?! I'm playing favorites? That's what you think, that I'm intentionally setting you up for failure-? 'Kay, and have you ever considered that—I don't know, maybe, I might still be learning how to pitch, jackass?! Our mom just got us this equipment cause she could spare to afford it with the extra hours she's been working—we've never had an opportunity to practice before,"

Off to the side, Dustin went quiet. His eyes curiously watched Mike as he dropped his angry stance a little in realization. The air had changed. The golden and lilac skies deepened and the hot summer air lingered, but a small breeze had settled in; sneaking in through the trees in this sudden silence.

It was often easy for Mike to forget the life his parents gave him differed in many ways from some if not all of his friends. He could feel the heat in his cheeks burning brighter as the anger fizzled into embarrassment.

"That's what I thought," Y/n glowered, turning away in a huff to retrieve the long-forgotten roll-away ball that lay nestled against the forest floor. "Go home, Mike. I don't need this,"

"Y/n," Mike sighed. He sounded more tired than sorry, still whirling in the aftermath of his dwindling anger. Off to the side, Will, Lucas, and Dustin shared anxious looks. "Come on, I didn't think about it like that--"

"--I said go home! I don't want you here!"

Mike stiffened, his chest thundering with a storm of conflicting emotions that were threatening to get the best of him. He could feel his fists tightening at his sides and the urge to apologize drowning in his urge to deflect his embarrassment was winning.

"Yeah?!" He practically stutters, completely pink in the face and his hands balled up at his sides. "Well, maybe I don't wanna be here! Like you're gonna hear me out anyway-!"

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms. "Like you're capable of real apologies!"

"--You guys, please," Came Will's small and pleading voice. The young boy felt a sympathetic hand fall on his left shoulder, stopping him from going any further and getting caught in the crosshairs. He looked over his shoulder to see an equally worried Lucas. The two shared silent words before watching what the three worried would be the end of their Party.

"You know what?! Fine!" Mike hollers. "As always, it's what Y/n wants!" He stops only to look around at the others, his voice lowering in volume before he says what he is certain is his final goodbye to Y/n. "I'm leaving."

The small audience watched as Mike yanked his backpack off the back patio and stormed off around the side of the house. Y/n, despite the searing anger practically pulsing off of her skin in waves, was almost shocked to see he called her bluff. Mike, though she hadn't been part of the group long, had quickly become one of her best friends. And though they had a special knack for getting under one another's skin, they always had each other's back when it really mattered.

Was she really about to let that go? Was Mike?

Dustin, Lucas, and Will seemed to be wondering the same question based on their reaction; one by one their tiny slack-jawed faces trailed from the side of the house where Mike had disappeared over to where she stood. Still cross-armed and fuming, but relinquishing muscle by muscle as reality settled in.

Her brother and friends were the first on Mike's heels, snapping themselves from their stupor and calling after their friend. If they could just convince him to stay long enough for both of them to cool down and work something out. They feared just what might happen if he left now; that what was broken just might stay broken.

Y/n didn't quite understand what she wanted to do or say—or even if she had any intention of doing or saying anything at all—when she found herself reluctantly following after Dustin, Lucas, and Will. Maybe she was just curious to see if Mike truly had the guts to leave. Maybe some part of her was scared to know the answer, no matter how furious she still was with him.

When she finally rounded the corner, she had little time to wonder why her friends had snapped into action and joined Mike on the empty driveway in worried tones.

She had caught him just as he was pushing himself off his hands and knees and onto his backside, grinding his teeth in pain from where he now sat on the dirtied-up driveway. Blood was already seeping through the abrasions on his right knee, a mixture of pebbles and dirt wedged into his bloodied skin around the wound could be seen even in the dying evening light. The lip of the concrete driveway peeking out of the dirt just a foot behind him suggested he hadn't had such luck in the darkness.

Sensing the extra pair of eyes on him, Mike looked up with a small huff only to meet eyes with the very friend he was trying to escape. Both were far too stubborn to relinquish an apology, and Mike's sudden vulnerable state only made his humiliation double down. He thought for sure he'd seen the last of Y/n, or at the very least, she'd laugh and say something about him deserving it. But instead, she turned tail and stomped inside the house without another word.

Nobody said anything at first. And Mike made quick but clumsy work of dabbing at the blood with his hands as carefully as possible. The sooner he got up the sooner he was out of here.

"You okay--?"

Will barely had time to finish the words before the slam of the front door returned and Y/n's frighteningly stern voice rung out (unintentionally and unknowingly) cutting off Will.

"Don't be an idiot, Mike. Your hands are filthy," everyone turned to see Y/n marching down the brick steps, her trusty Crystal-and-Lockjaw-lunchbox-turned-first-aid-kit in hand. "Let me see,"

"I'm fine," he snaps, growing self-conscious and throwing himself on his feet. He fails to hide a wince at the sudden bend of his knee and Y/n pins him under a tired glare. "I said I'm leaving, so I'm leaving."

"Stop being a baby and just sit down, Wheeler," Y/n pressed, her voice climbing again as she subconsciously began backing him up and around to the front steps of their front door.

"No, alright?!" He tried again, looking over her shoulder like he was getting ready to sprint. "I'm fine! I'm fine!"

"Just shut up and let me help you!" She bellowed, jabbing a finger behind him on the front steps.

His eyes blew open wide in fear as he collapses on the front steps and did his best to ignore the slight sizzle in the air that carried along with the breeze. Thankfully he knew better than to say anything, and judging by the looks on their faces from where they stood behind her so did the trio of boys who had watched the scene unfold with slight shock. Y/n heaved a tired (almost regretful?) sigh as she rubbed at her temples. All before kneeling at Mike's feet and unlocking the tin lunchbox and sorting through to find the correct supplies.

"I thought you wanted me to leave?" Mike finally asked after a minute or two. The rest of the Party, having realized they had intruded enough, was promptly led inside by Dustin to grab their coats and things and call it a night. They were currently inside, getting ready to leave. Perhaps this is why Mike had the sudden courage to mumble out the first words he had spoken to Y/n in minutes. "Thought you hated me,"

She rolled her eyes in great annoyance as she discarded the last of the cleaning supplies off to the side where she would eventually dispose of them properly. As she fished for a big enough band-aid, she didn't bother looking up at her friend to grumble her answer.

"I don't hate you, Mike," she admits much to his surprise. "I'm not happy with you, and I don't exactly want you here right now, either."

There was a small pause as she plucked a square strip from the tin, her attention focused on peeling back the paper to get to the bandage.

"But I don't hate you."

Mike would be lying, even to himself, if he said he wasn't relieved to hear that.

"You're lucky I even bothered to waste my supplies on you--" she nods to her lunchbox, her first and favorite first aid kit from a lunchbox she loved so much she was too afraid to take to school at the risk of ruin. "Just because you fell doesn't mean I don't think you deserve it,"

He frowned at that. But any instinct to bite back died out when he remembered the guilt he felt minutes ago for his thoughtless remark on her pitching. And as he sat here now, watching as the seething glare she had him trapped in all evening had effortlessly turned to a laser-focused gaze, making sure she applied his bandage just right, he couldn't help but feel a change. The remorse he felt from earlier was growing heavier and heavier, bringing his shoulders down in a slump and turning his frown genuine.

He tried thinking back earlier on in the day, asking himself why they had even started fighting in the first place. But he didn't have one right answer. Not one that justified losing a best friend over. It was all silly, selfish, and ridiculous. He had been all those things.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Mike admitted, his heart pounding a little in his chest. She looked up from her lunchbox, where she had been tucking any loose items away, and paused as she searched his eyes in return. "I shouldn't have said those things."

That pounding in his chest was turning into hard and thunderous booms. Mike wanted to ignore it but it was the only distraction he had as Y/n studied him for any sign of false meaning. She found none.

The question of whether or not Mike had lost one of his best friends—a question he had been dreading to ask—was finally answered when Y/n's lips slowly stretched into a thin smile of relief.

||𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄'𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

- 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐀𝐘 -

"...you're jealous of me?"

Okay. Yeah, it was definitely time to leave the country. Leaving the country is a good plan. A great plan.

I don't know how long it actually takes me to answer. I just sorta... stand there. Trying to will my heart to start pumping again—it actually feels like all the blood has stopped pumping and my entire body is turning cold. Shit!

My eyes dart back over my shoulder through the screen door, but nobody—not even Will—seems to have noticed. I don't bother asking this time before I manage to bring myself to sit across from her on the steps without my knees buckling. My palms are clammy, my throat is dry and I can't even bring myself to meet her eye line.

This is totally ridiculous! I have to think about what I told Will that day—what she did for us. I know who she is. I have to remind myself who I'm talking to... But this is also the person I've screwed over for the past year and a half.

"Are you mad?"

Out of everything I could have said, I ask that?

Y/n scoffs, and my heart skips a few beats in fear. From the corner of my eye, I can see she's looking down at her lap and picking at the plastic seams of the comms as she thinks. She looks tired. Emotionally.

"I'm not mad, Mike," she admits. There's a small, sad smile fighting to stay on her face. It reminded me of that week we were looking for Will. "At least-- well, not about that, anyway,"

She chuckles a little, but I can tell even through her joking tone there's some layer of truth. Y/n sighs again, setting the comm on the steps at her feet, and glazing over the breeze in the trees before catching my eye for the first time.

"To be honest, I-- I'm not exactly surprised. Either."

The urge to get angry again creeps up but thankfully I'm just enough in my right mind to recognize I'm getting defensive. I'm embarrassed. 'How long have you known?' I'm not even sure the words left my mouth but she still answers me anyway.

"I've known you since the fourth grade, Mike," Y/n says. "Don't forget I spent a year on the sidelines. I saw how you two were—how you can be—around each other. Stuff other people might have missed... and I heard what you told him that night in the shed, about how you guys met."

My head is pulled over my shoulder without thought. Immediately, I catch sight of Will through one of the cabin's windows. He's standing in the kitchen, finishing off his stupid bowl of Lucky Charms by shoveling the last spoonfuls into his mouth like he always does. A few pieces fall from his spoon and his head falls with it, watching it slip away regretfully. He doesn't think anyone's watching him-- he's just Will, being himself.

The sight brings a similar, sad smile to my face when I recall the things I said to him that night. The moment Y/n is talking about.

'It was the best thing I've ever done,'

I'm broken from the memory when Y/n continues. Her tone suggests she knows what I'm thinking.

"What's between you and Will is something... I don't know," Y/n admits after a moment, shrugging and dropping her hands on her knees, unable to find the proper word. "But it's not nothing."

Y/n can tell I haven't said anything in a while. And she's smart enough to guess I'm not jumping to reply. I feel her gaze on me when my eyes fall to my shoes. I'm not sure whether to be relieved, embarrassed, horrified, or what... But despite what she's saying, I notice there's something still bothering her: I know this because her hands haven't stopped fidgeting, and they only got worse when she weakly—but playfully—nudged my knee with hers.

"Look, I-- " maybe I'm looking for things, but I swear she's trying to spit the words out. I swear the look she throws over our shoulders at the window and into the living room where Max, stood with Lucas and the others—not far outside El's door—lingered just a little longer than normal. But maybe I'm looking for things. "I get it. Believe me..." something somebody says inside has the pair laughing, and Y/n bows her head into her hands, rubbing exasperatedly at her temples. But maybe I'm not. "I get it."

The fidgeting got worse as she laid her eyes back on the forest. Two birds were meeting on a branch, cautious of one another, but neither of them willing to budge. I felt yet another small, playful nudge on my leg, and I nearly laughed upon recognizing her go-to weak attempt at lightening the mood.

It took me a moment to process her words, and when I finally registered I'm meeting her eyes I can tell she was waiting for a reaction of some sort. But really, there's nothing I can say that does justice to how I feel. But one look and I know—every suspicion I've ever had is gone. Y/n feels it too.

"But you know," she shakes her head thoughtfully, going back to those birds on the branch. They're scoping each other out. I'm surprised they haven't started fighting—gotten territorial or anything. It's almost like they're getting used to each other again. "I really don't think there's anything wrong with that. I mean, the connections we make with people, whatever they look like, are up to us. It's scary but it's true. But the feelings—not so much. Feelings just happen, and they can happen with anyone, and when they do they just... take hold of you."

The darker bird snapped its beak at the red one when it got too close. It cocked its head but didn't budge, only snapping back at it before hopping closer on the branch. In a lightning-fast motion, it plucked a twig from the feathers on its back, not without lecturing the black one for yelling at it as it did so. The red bird promptly hopped back several spaces, and the black bird quieted in guilt.

"I think you just gotta be brave enough to stick it out if you're willing," she shakes her head at the ground. "I don't think that makes anyone bad. And I don't know about you, but I'm pretty happy with how things turned out." I found myself chuckling noiselessly as I nod along. The road here was definitely long and winding and far beyond complicated. But there were some things I just wouldn't change.

As they always were, the army of trees was a tempting sight to turn back to in such a heavy realization, but I was too preoccupied with the flustered haze Y/n was beginning to fall into. It was curious to see.

"I'm..." a genuine smile I hadn't seen on anyone in days flashed over her face as she looked wistfully over her shoulder. "so happy with Will." She admitted. But that smile eventually fell a little. "And I know how happy you are with El—I have a pretty good idea of what she means to you."

We both hear chirping in the branches, and we pull our sights back on the birds. The black-feathered bird—who had flown off before—had returned. He seemed almost shy. But he had food. And he was offering some of it to the other. She didn't look like she believed him at first, but she must have been hungry. Or needed a friend. Cause she cautiously hopped closer and took some of the food with a thankful chirp.

Y/n turns back to me, reluctant to take her eyes off the sight. "But that doesn't mean you haven't hurt people,"

I'm pretty sure the look on my face said it all.

"I never meant it, you know. That stuff I said. At the mall. You know, about you being locked away."

Her head sunk a little lower and I swore I could feel the air grow hotter around me. Almost as much as it did when she cornered me in the storage room.

"I was just... I was just--"

"Jealous?"

"Yeah," I laugh bitterly along with her. It's the first time either one of us has successfully been alone in a long time, I realize. "Yeah, I was. I was also scared. But mostly, Y/n, I was really mad. I don't know what for exactly, but I was panicking, and jealous and of course I don't want you locked up-- and I should never have said that. Maybe I said it cause I wanted to make you mad. Like I was mad... But I shouldn't have."

I'm too embarrassed to fully realize the heat in the air cooling. All I know is I feel a bit more relaxed. But maybe that's cause she's finally meeting my eye again.

"So, Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. For everything."

Maybe it's because all of this feels familiar.

"No, alright?! I'm fine! Just leave me alone!"

Something in the way Y/n's looking at me tells me she's thinking the same thing.

"Just shut up and let me help you!"

Something like we've been down this road before. But that oddly puts me at ease...

Y/n's lips slowly stretched into a thin but familiar smile.

"I miss being your friend, Mike,"

Something about those words felt just as familiar: everything about this moment, including the birds, but I couldn't quite call it deja vu.

- 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞 -

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have said those things."

I don't think I've ever been so relieved to see someone laugh at me. It was just a small chuckle, I'm pretty sure out of relief. But a laugh. "Thank you," Y/n says. She winced as she stood first, then offered me a hand to my feet. "And me too. And I'm sorry I said, you know, that you were a jerk and, all that stuff about you being stupid. I was just angry, but that wasn't cool,"

"What?"

The look on her face didn't change, but she took a moment to gulp. "...did I not say that stuff out loud?"

I felt my eyes narrow at her. "You said I was a jerk, but you didn't call me stupid,"

"..."

"..."

"--truce?"

"--truce?"

We both laughed a little, and I knew I wasn't the only one feeling the last of the tension disappearing. Together, the two of us walked to the pile of bikes at the edge of the empty garage. I could barely make out the sound of Dustin hushing Lucas and Will from inside and I rolled my eyes at the thought of them all listening. I wouldn't put it past them. Knowing those three, if we both turned around to look we'd probably find them with their noses glued to the window.

"Hey, Mike?" Y/n asked, pulling my bike off the wall and offering it to me. I think she could tell despite our resolution, I was eager to make it home.

"Yeah?"

It had been a long day. A long week or so really. We hadn't been getting along since she's been spending more time with Will. The two of them had been running late working on building and leveling up her character, Y/C/N. And honestly, it's been hard without either of them.

Y/n opened and closed her mouth, suddenly embarrassed. She shakes her head finally. "...I don't know, I guess I just--"

I take the handle of my bike and she released her grip, looking over at me and offering a crooked smile in the process.

"I've missed being your friend,"

-𝗘𝗡𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗙𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗕𝗔𝗖𝗞-

Something lifts in my chest and off my heart and lungs—something that's been weighing heavily for years. I actually feel myself smiling a little, and inhaling what feels like the first fresh breath of air I've had in a long time.

"I miss being your friend, too,"

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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"Fighting for civil rights and empowering Asian Americans to create a more just America for all."

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· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tag List:

@dickkwad @iblesstherainsdown-in-africa @miscellaneoustoasts @happyandlonely-blog @ba-responds ​ @night-yoarrbe @blogforhoes @witch-of-all-things-soft @shawkneecaps @whothefuckstolemykeds @daughter-of-the-stars11 ​ ​ @nightbu-g @spiderbitch69420 @dreadmars @kurodach @honeyxbeexqueen @dreadmars @bilesxbilinskixlahey