#servingcult

   there's  uncertainty  in  her  step,  june  hesitating  as  she  wanders  the  compound.  how  the  hell  she  landed  herself  here  -  there's  a  lot  of  leading  factors.  she's  still  not  used  to  it,  still  wakes  up  and  sometimes  ends  up  confused  to  not  be  at  her  home  -  just  to  realize  this  now  is  her  home.  reminded  the  loss  of  her  family  again  and  again,  something  she  tries  to  bite  back  and  hold  down. 

   it  weighs  on  her  soul;  she  hasn't  talked  about  it.  not  once.  not  even  to  aniela.  not  that  she  would  -  not  to  her  anyway.  that's  too…  horrible  of  a  topic  in  june's  mind.  it's  her  burden  -  but  she's  starting  to  realize  she  can't  keep  it  to  herself.  she  can't  do  it  alone.  she  needs  help.  and  there's  only  one  person  that  comes  to  mind  when  she  asks  herself  who  to  turn  to  for  help. 

   so  she  makes  her  way  to  elias,  stepping  in  after  knocking  quietly  to  announce  herself  there.  hazel  eyes  don't  lift  from  the  floor,  and  brows  furrow  as  she  stands,  almost  awkwardly.  silence  fills  the  room  -  june  knowing  it's  hers  to  speak.  she  has  to  say  something.  there's  no  one  else  she  can  trust  to  be  there  for  her. 

   “i…”  she  starts,  trailing  off  as  her  voice  wavers.  she  clears  her  throat.  “i  keep…  rememberin'  my  parents.”  she  admits  it,  keeping  her  gaze  solidly  on  the  floor.  “i  don't  really  know  what  to  do.  it's  not  goin'  away.  the  pain.  i'm  still  grievin'  and  i  don't  know  how  to  deal  with  it  on  my  own  anymore.  i  know  i  shouldn't  burden  others  but  i  really…  i  don't  know  what  to  do.  i  wasn't  ready  for  what  happened  and  i  never  prepared  for  this  eventuality  'cause  it  wasn't  on  the  horizon.  they  weren't  ailin'.  it  was  sudden  and  i…”  she  closes  her  eyes,  taking  a  shaking  breath  in,  letting  it  out  slowly. 

is your refrigerator running... u better go n get it lol

[ kat  ↬  chase ]     you  woke  me  from  my  nap  for  this??? [ kat  ↬  chase ]     strike  1 [ kat  ↬  chase ]     you  don't  wanna  get  to  3

He'd fetched the blanket from inside, the back of the couch where he could remember his mother keeping it in his youth. Slowly, carefully Steve draped it over her shoulders to keep the night chill from chewing at her skin.

He'd never make it out of Hawkins alive.

So he never tried. Aspirations, dreams, everything he'd ever thought of his future crumbled the older he got. Nothing seemed achievable or realistic anymore and so he settled. So he inherited his childhood home when his parents passed away. So he began working at the high school where he'd once been revered as podunk-town royalty.

Nothing changed. Not even him.

Her arrival was different. The last time he could recall different made his heart ache. Unrealities that nobody would believe if he shared them. So he kept his mouth shut and never tried. Anyone who understood or knew had moved far away, maybe into the next life, and all that remained was the ghost of a town he once saw differently and a reputation he'd hoped to outrun.

Fat chance of that when he never went far.

He let her ruminate in momentary silence while he fished his hand into the loose front pocket of his yard work jeans. Permanent grass stains and tears adorned them and Steve cared too little for appearances when he was landscaping. (The shit adults did, how boring.) From within the confines he pulled out a beaten pack of cigarettes and tugged one out from the carton. Pressed between his lips he lit the vice with the Bic that followed and inhaled the first taste of crave-reducing nicotine.

Only when she spoke did he let hazel eyes find the huddled mass of her form. It was the spark of tears in her eyes that had him pausing, brows knitted in concern until she continued.

"Well," a beat, another inhale. When he continued smoke plumed from his nose and lips like some sort of humanized dragon. "You're welcome to couch-crash as long as you need to get on your feet. Nobody really comes around here, and if they did I'd turn them away."

He wouldn't pry. Not until she wanted to tell him, if she did. It was obvious she had scars - not the physical kind, but the ones that bore on your psyche and turned you all sorts of twisted. He had some, too.

i'm literally dealing with it RIGHT NOW