#stranger things reader insert

Your relationship with Henry hadn’t always been smooth sailing. Not that he'd made it any easier, with all the hurdles you had to jump through in your quest to befriend him. In fact, he'd fought you every step of the way.

Henry was reticent for a boy his age, preferring to observe others in the safety of the sidelines rather than to join in on whatever commotion seemed to be the highlight of the day. He never really felt at home with his peers, neither comfortable in their company, nor willing to shed the polite veneer he wore in an attempt to fit in. 

Was it the way he'd been brought up? Because his family was new to town? Or perhaps, just the fact that he’d been a difficult child, right from the start?

No one truly knew, and no one truly understood why he’d turned out the way he did.

It was no secret that the patriarch of the Creel house was decorated, having served time in the war. Hawkins was a small town, so word got around quickly enough, which made it tricky to keep things under wraps. The news had spread like wildfire the moment they’d moved in, their names carried under whispered breaths and fleeting looks. As such, people gave him a wide berth everywhere he went, not wanting to get on his bad side, and not being brave enough to risk an altercation with someone from a military family.

There was an unexplained otherness to Henry that was both foreign and intriguing. To his credit, it had managed to turn a few heads his way, but most eventually strayed away due to his less-than-accommodating personality. Staying out of the public eye, shying away from the spotlight, and coupled with the oddities that separated him from the general populace, he was an outsider in every sense of the word. This resulted in cordial interactions at best, and outright avoidance at worst. Most people left him alone to his own devices, not wanting the same label to be slapped on them and alienating them from everyone else. 

Society was harsh, as most would come to learn in school. Even so, Henry had no qualms with it, largely preferring to keep to his own company. It didn’t matter if they’d called him a ‘weirdo’ behind his back, or even if there really was something inherently wrong with him. That was how he preferred it. The fewer people poking into his business, the better.

And then, you'd stepped into his little bubble.

“Hey! Wanna partner up?” You'd chirped, beaming with a smile so bright that he'd instinctively backed up.

There was something infectious about your cheer. Not in a bad way— just something that he wasn't quite used to, especially when it felt like the full force of the sun was being directed at him in one go.

He blinked, wondering if you'd mistaken him for someone else. After all, why would anyone want to talk to someone like him?

“Sorry?” He said, glancing at you in confusion.

Words of refusal sat at the tip of his tongue, but it was clear that you weren't about to take no for an answer. The unexplained sparkle in your eye was all the warning he'd gotten before you'd promptly taken things into your own hands.

Grabbing his hand in yours, you'd dragged him over to your table before he could so much as splutter in indignation. He’d withdrawn into his shell soon after the incident, bewildered at your openness to an otherwise complete stranger. But the damage had already been done; you’d left a lasting impression on him.

It was innocuous when it first started. Having shared a class with him, you'd had a few interactions with the guy over time. Mostly greetings in passing, or the occasional exchange while awaiting the bell to signal the start of the next period. And while he seemed to keep everyone at an arm's length, Henry seemed like a pretty decent fellow.

Just… odd. Not that he seemed particularly interested in assimilating with his new environment either.

You’d always faced him with a smile, seemingly undeterred by the looks everyone had shot your way as a result. Noticing how he’d always seemed to be by his lonesome, you doubled your efforts, seeking him out every opportunity you found, much to his chagrin.

Even loners needed a friend at times, right? 

He’d been cordial, at first, knowing that you were likely to turn around and stab him in the back just as everyone here seemed prone to doing, no thanks to the rumors surrounding his family’s troubled past— they’d escaped to Hawkins in hopes of a new start. But what he hadn’t accounted for was your sheer stubbornness, even when the initial hubbub about there being a new kid in town had long faded. 

No matter his biting words or how scathing he’d turned in an attempt to dissuade you from approaching him, you hadn't been deterred.

Henry had even taken to employing the simplest trick in the book to distance himself when that hadn’t worked by simply pretending not to hear you whenever you started hovering around him. But eventually, even avoidance grew old. You’d only gotten bolder in retaliation, as if being louder would make him concede.

“Henry! Wanna join us for lunch?” You’d called out from the opposite end of the corridor one day, standing at the head of your little group, waving at him to catch his attention in the crowd.

Inconspicuously raising his head, his eyes drifted in your direction at the sound of his name. Noticing the way your friends had started whispering in their midst with slightly furrowed brows, Henry had a feeling that they weren’t exactly as welcoming as you were, despite your open enthusiasm. Hence, he’d assumed it a trick of the wind, ducking his head and continuing on with his path, your invitation falling through, perhaps for the best.

Not to be disheartened, you tried again the next time you saw him, having caught him while shuffling between classes. 

Students crowded the corridor, either swapping their books out for the next period or on the way to their next destination. Spotting Henry by the lockers, you raised a hand in greeting as you approached, deciding to invite him to the cohort-wide hangout after school if someone hadn't already done so.

“Finally caught you! There's a gathering after classes end for the day at the—” You'd started off, only to be cut off with a wave of his hand and the squeaky creak of metal as the locker door swung open.

“Sorry, but could we do this another time? I'm running late for the next period.” He'd apologized, unloading his books from his locker before promptly turning away. Pointedly, in the opposite direction, leaving you standing awkwardly in the hallway. Your invitation had fallen flat, again.

Shaking your head, you'd simply written it off as unfortunate timing and carried on your merry way. No matter, you could always just invite him for the next one.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

It was clear that you’d wanted something out of him, and Henry was happy to ignore your existence for the most part. Until he couldn’t. 

Your persistence, while admirable, had started to draw attention from both him and the others. Unsavory attention, in a manner that he knew best— malice. It tinged the air, whispering at the edge of his subconscious. How he knew, however, he couldn't tell. It was a skill he had, yet hadn't quite mastered; an omnipresent sixth sense, at best.

Of course, that dismissal hadn't been enough to thwart your efforts. No, because you were back at it again a week later, like hardy weed that even the strongest weedwhacker couldn’t tempt into submission.

“Hey, Henry!” A voice called out from behind him, in the same cheery manner he'd reluctantly gotten acquainted with. 

His shoulders tensed. Yeah, he definitely recognized that voice. It was you, again.

Sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Your stubbornness, it seemed, knew no bounds. 

“Perhaps it would be best if you didn’t seek me out that often, hm?” Snapping his book shut, he’d turned sharply in your direction, hoping that the bite would make you turn the other way. 

However, your eyes had only lit up at that, for he’d finally acknowledged your presence. 

“Why not?” You questioned, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He’d given you an odd look then, much to your puzzlement. Why would someone go to such lengths?

You were impulsive in a way he didn’t understand. Headstrong, when most would falter.

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the most liked around here. Poke your nose in places where it shouldn't be, and trouble will come looking.” He reiterated, hoping that you’d get the memo this time.

“Are you trouble, then?”

Henry blinked, not having expected that answer. Slowly, he replied after a moment's pause, the lone syllable falling hesitantly from his tongue. “...Yes?”

“Good, because I don't care.” You smiled, planting your feet firmly on the ground.

You weren’t budging from your spot now that you’d caught him and finally had his attention, even if he was keen on withdrawing it post-haste from the way his eyes darted almost nervously toward something behind you.

“You should.” He smiled, though not unkindly, as he pointed at the group that had gathered a ways away behind the both of you. “Not everyone is as nice as you are.”

You looked in the direction he was pointing at, noticing that there were a few people loitering about the corridor. They were watching your interaction with Henry with wary eyes, and with the slightly ominous buzz in the air, you had a feeling that they didn’t exactly have the best intentions in mind. However, they turned away, breaking eye contact the moment they'd noticed your gaze on them.

You looked back towards him then, slightly doubtful about his claim. “You don’t know that for sure.”

He tilted his head then, a wry look crossing his face. “Oh, but I do. Trust me.” Having said that, he distanced himself from you, walking away with a small shake of his head. 

He could hear their thoughts, the ridicule and disdain, plain as day…

You watched as he retreated into the sea of students, alone like a piece of driftwood amid the tides. His words had given you some things to think about, but you’d heard his unspoken words all the same, expertly hidden between the lines: Stay away, if you know what’s good for you.

Something was bound to happen if you continued, and it was only a matter of time.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

By the fourth time you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him of your own accord, Henry’s brow furrowed.

Were you deaf? Had you not taken any of his warnings to heart? 

He quickly surveyed the area around the hallway you’d somehow found him in, noticing how there wasn’t anyone present. You’d willingly chosen to approach him, again. He’d wondered then if you were stupid, or if you were truly oblivious to the dour way everyone had started to look at you the more you tried to talk to him.

People hadn’t liked him, and he was fine with that, for the most part. But Henry couldn't quite understand your actions. There was nothing to gain in attempting to befriend someone like him, a black sheep in a field of whites. Yet, somehow, he’d caught your eye. And, despite everything, here you were.

A thought flickered through his mind then. Maybe… it wasn’t an inherently bad thing?

Luck had never quite been on his side when it came to making friends with the students here, partially due to his own conscious actions of keeping everyone at bay. And… his internal turmoil with the unknown. 

There was something within him. Something living, breathing, otherworldly— he didn't understand it, but he was cognizant enough to know that it was a part of him, much as he loathed to admit. It whispered into his ear, nudged at the peripherals of his mind, but it mostly lay dormant, nestled somewhere deep within him.

He sighed. It seemed that fate had other plans for him despite his efforts to thwart them. 

Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposed he could start by gaining your trust. And the first thing he could do, as his father had always taught him, was to be charitable. All he needed was an opportunity to act on.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long, for the perfect chance had presented itself the next day, just as he’d been exiting the classroom.

He’d caught sight of you then, walking backward out of the teacher's office with jittering steps. He paused, head tilted in curious inclination.

What… were you doing?

He watched as you staggered, shakily proceeding down the corridor after backing out of the office with your arms fuller than he’d ever seen.

You were holding papers. A bunch of them. 

Were those handouts? And… they were starting to slip.

You were a subject rep, that was true. So this was just part of your duties, he supposed. But this was a stupid endeavor to attempt alone, nonetheless.

Wherever had your partner gone off to anyway? There was no way you were managing all of that on your own. You needed another pair of hands, and as much as he didn't want to intervene, it was hard watching someone struggle that much. 

Quickening his pace, he headed in your direction. 

Except, something must have gone wrong somewhere, for you’d swerved the moment he’d nearly fallen in step with you, nearly bludgeoning his head with the tall stack. 

And with it, went your balance.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

You'd been making your way down the corridor when you accidentally bumped into someone, the impact sending you stumbling a couple of steps.

“Whoa, careful.” You heard someone speak as you felt a pair of hands reach out to steady you as you attempted to regain your balance while maintaining your white-knuckled grip on the stack of papers you were carrying.

Unfortunately, due to the heavy-set papers blocking your vision, you couldn't quite tell who it was from the voice alone. Not that you had been paying much attention either, considering how you were focused on trying not to trip over your own feet and send papers flying everywhere.

“Sorry, I hadn't meant to run right into you.” Came the voice again in a more apologetic tone once they'd ensured that you were firmly rooted to the ground.

The next moment saw the weight in your hands considerably lightening, revealing a familiar face as half the pile was lifted from your hands. 

“And where are these supposed to be going?”

“Henry?” Your brows quirked in disbelief.

He shrugged. “More efficient, fewer walking accidents. Now, where are you headed?”

You stared at him for a moment, all speech having left your brain at his sudden appearance. With how much he’d been avoiding you as of late, it was a wonder how he was standing before you now. Actively… interacting with you, in fact.

Once you managed to gather your wits back together, you replied. “The handout box.” Though with the puzzled look he’d given you, you doubted that he even knew what to make of that answer.

Henry drew a blank. He'd never heard of something like that. What or where was that even supposed to be? The office, perhaps? Then again, he was a relatively new enrollment here, so instead of trying to figure it out, he opted for the simple, “lead the way.”

You’d both walked along the corridors side-by-side as you made your way down. There were a sparse few groups of students who still loitered about, dotting the area with specks of life. And whilst the hallway was relatively unoccupied, given that normal classes had already ended for the day, it was still quite the trek to your destination— the other adjoining building.

You glanced sideways, observing Henry as you both proceeded onwards in silence. You weren’t quite sure what to make of his sudden appearance; it was the last thing you had been expecting out there. Walking in absolute silence, however, was not your forte, so you decided to strike up a conversation with your surprising companion. 

Though it seemed that Henry had already felt your eyes lingering on him, for he’d made a sound in his throat before you could speak. “Hm?” He’d caught you staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“People have been talking about you, you know? About what happened at your last school. That’s why everyone’s afraid of approaching you, to some extent.”

“I’m aware.” He’d answered simply.

“Does it bother you?” You asked as you both stopped before the door that marked your destination.

He shook his head. "No." He was already used to it anyway. “Consider its days numbered— it’s bound to die down, eventually.” 

“Then I pity the calendar.” You laughed, using your foot to nudge the door open a little wider before elbowing yourself the rest of the way in. 

You heard a small huff escape Henry as he entered the room after you. “And here we are.” You announced.

Surveying the classroom, he noticed the large box that sat atop a corner of the teacher’s desk. Was that the box you were talking about?

“Don’t think I’ve ever been to this side of the classroom block before.” He commented as he set the pile of papers down by the table at the front, watching while you worked at loading it into the handout box. 

“Probably not. This is the seniors’ classroom. Though you should probably familiarize yourself with the school soon.” You replied as you loaded the last of the papers into their rightful place. “So… why did you help me anyway?”

Looking up, you noted the way he seemed to shuffle his feet in the same spot he stood, hesitant and slightly unsure. “You seemed like you needed a hand.”

But hadn’t he been avoiding you with all the times he’d turned you down? 

The crease between your brows deepened as you came up empty. You couldn't get a read on him no matter how hard you tried, and it would be impolite to stare any longer than you already had.

That being said, you must have stared at him a little too hard while trying to puzzle him out, for his voice sounded again not a few moments later, laced with faint suspicion. “...And you should really stop doing that. The staring thing. It’s a little unnerving.”

“Well, since you helped me and all. I'd say that makes us friends at least, right?” You smiled, bumping a fist to his shoulder in mock camaraderie.

“We barely know each other.” He pointed out.

“But we are classmates! And you clearly need to be around more people. First step to everything, right?” Beaming, you held a hand out in offering. “So, friends?”

He saw the way your eyes brimmed in anticipation as you looked at him expectantly. And while he wasn't entirely against the idea… You certainly had an odd way of making friends, if he could even call it that.

Did you even know what you were signing up for? It was something that even he didn't know, himself. But perhaps things could be different this time around. Maybe… he didn't need to isolate himself from everyone and everything anymore. Not in the same way he did at his last school after the mishap. 

The idea of it sounded good to his ears. Enticing, even. Maybe it was a good thing if someone could come to understand him. 

Something in his subconscious stirred at the thought, moving in unnoticeable silence.

You could see hesitation flicker visibly across his face before his lips curled into a small smile. Taking your hand, he agreed. “Friends.”

And thus, a mutual agreement of friendship was made. Except, you hadn’t known the consequences that came with befriending someone like him. And you wouldn’t know, until much later. 

But even then, it was little more than a vague suspicion that there was more to Henry than he'd initially led you to believe.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Being friends with Henry, of all people, was actually rather uneventful, all things considered. He had his moments, sure. But everyone had their moments. Perhaps it was the stress he'd been facing, or maybe you were just too optimistic for your own good.

Or maybe both, now that you thought about it.

Your eyes flickered downward at a small nudge against your arm. Henry had extended something towards you— an offering. It looked like a paper figure of sorts. Something that he'd been busying himself with for a while now. 

You took it from him, slipping him your own paper creation in exchange as you brought it up for a closer look. 

He’d folded you a kangaroo, intricate with neat edges, looking almost life-like, as if its minuscule self would jump to life at any moment as you held it within your palm. You felt slightly bad at how your little origami squirrel looked terribly amateurish next to his work of art. Unfortunately, you hadn’t been blessed with nimble fingers like he had, it seemed. Glancing over, you gauged his reaction, watching as he squinted at the squirrel, turning it every which way and that. 

Confusion marred his face as he tried to make out what it was supposed to be. “And what’s this? A possum…?” He guessed.

“It’s a squirrel,” You sighed, shoulders drooping, “but sure, why not?” If he said it looked like a possum, then a possum it shall be. Not that it looked anything like what it was supposed to be, anyway. 

“Hey, don't look so down. You just need more practice.” He laughed, accepting your failed paper amalgamation nonetheless. 

And so went your little exchanges after school over time. Your continued interactions, once awkward, slowly bloomed into a solid and tangible connection.

Then, came the rumors that arose months down the road… 

Some people who’d crossed paths with Henry had claimed to have witnessed disturbing nightmares, whilst others complained not about nightmares, but of shadows flickering at the edges of their visions. 

People were losing sleep. Afraid. And it all seemed to revolve around the newcomers in town, despite it being months since the Creels had first arrived.

You half-wondered if the rumors surrounding him were true. But given the time you’d spent around him, you’d turned out fine, haven’t you? 

You certainly hadn’t suffered from nightmares, and you hadn’t experienced unexplained sightings, capable of spooking the common folk either. But all the talk had made you curious.

You could always check up on him, right? 

He’d left school early today, claiming to be ill, and you’d overheard murmurs in the corridor that perhaps he’d gone home if only to curse his next victim. And now that you were standing on his side of town with a box of brownies in hand, you wondered if whatever misfortune had befallen them would come to plague you, too, in due time.

You glanced around the area. This was the neighborhood he lived in? Wow. It sure was different, though he hadn't told you his address, just mentioned the street he was on in passing. Hence, you'd resorted to craning your neck through the fences of the apartment houses until you'd seen the name ‘Creel’ written on the mailbox. And as you peered past the bushes that had clearly been meticulously tended to, you spotted him standing alone off to the side near the back of his house. 

He looked focused… on something that you couldn’t quite make out from where you stood.

Why was he just standing there?

“Henry?” You called out.

‘Shit.’  He cursed inwardly as the item of his focus fell back to the ground with a sharp clatter, no longer manipulated by psychic forces to defy the laws of gravity. He had half the mind to swipe it under a bush, to hide all evidence, had you been of the observant sort, but it was too late for that, as he could already hear your approaching footsteps and the sound of grass crunching beneath your feet.

Your voice had startled him, breaking him out of the trance-like concentration he'd lapsed into while attempting to test the limits of his abilities. By unironically levitating a rock he'd found near his house. Small, simple— not a problem at all, right?

Except, you were here.

“What are you doing alone out here?” You asked, drawing closer to his side. 

You glanced in the direction he’d been staring all so intently at earlier, but there was nothing there; only a lone rock resting amidst the semi-grassy pavement. 

He wasn’t just looking off into space, was he…? 

Then, your gaze returned to him— to the trickle of red dripping from his nose.

A beat passed before you spoke again in a slightly hesitant manner. “Henry…? You're bleeding.”

Right, he’d forgotten about that. 

Wiping the blood off his nose with the back of his sleeve, he turned to face you, innocently brushing off your concerns. “Nothing.” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he steered you away from the scene.  “I could ask you the same. What are you doing here?”

“Just came here to give you these,” you said as you held the box you’d brought out towards him before continuing, “and to see if you were okay.” 

And to make sure that you aren’t actually cursing people in their sleep…

Which, for some reason, you imagined the involvement of a voodoo doll of sorts. But, of course, you didn’t mention that. Still, you were slightly suspicious of how he had just been staring at literal space. 

No weird-looking dolls in sight, however.

A faint wave of relief washed over you—  your friend certainly wasn’t off cursing anyone in his near vicinity, that's for sure.

He glanced down, a look of puzzlement crossing his face. 

You came all this way just to give him food? They did smell delicious though…

“I hope you feel better soon.” You'd beamed before turning back away, casting a quizzical look at the rock on the ground before you made to leave. 

Had there been something interesting about it? It looked like any ordinary rock to you, though. 

You shook your head, chalking it up to another one of the many peculiarities that seemed to surround him.

“Thanks.” He smiled, accepting the gift and breathing a little easier as he watched you leave with a parting wave. His fingers curled around the edges of the box, flexing in contemplation as he flipped a thought in his mind like one would a prized shined quarter— would it hurt, for someone else to know? 

No. It'd probably scare you away. It was best that it be kept a secret. He didn’t want you to know about his powers. 

Not yet, anyway.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

With practice, his abilities eventually grew stronger. 

And while his results weren’t perfect, Henry had managed to gain some control and understanding over them with his repeated efforts. Extending his senses, he attempted to gauge the effective radius of his powers. Then, he’d moved on to bigger feats, testing his range on larger rocks and smaller creatures.

He'd levitated a heavy rock from a distance away, watching as it spun… and spun… and spun, the sound of faint droning filling his ears. He felt something strange creep up over him as he slowly fell into the trance-like state he’d oftentimes find himself lapsing into. An odd feeling that made itself known every once in a while. 

He knew not what it was, only that it felt like a thin veil whenever it surfaced within him, falling gently over his mind. Curious, he’d tried reaching out to it, soon realizing that while it was susceptible to his nudging, it was ultimately unyielding in nature, refusing to break no matter how much he prodded and poked at it. Like spider-silk, he thought with fascination.

Just then, the bushes nearby rustled, alerting him that he wasn’t alone.

His eyes immediately darted in the direction of the sound. Spotting movement, he’d sent the rock hurtling without a second thought, whistling sharply as it cut through the air. He hadn’t been expecting anything, but the startled yelp that came soon after certainly did snap him out of the red-tinged haze that had settled over his mind. Something registered in him then that that hadn’t been a wild rabbit, like he’d been expecting. 

In fact, it sounded very human.  —And very much like you. 

He paled, very much wanting to retake the second thought he’d disregarded earlier. And if his past deeds had been any proof of the casualties he was capable of causing, he hoped that he hadn’t done too much harm.

Using his hand to part the bushes, he peered down at you from where you’d fallen onto the concrete, gingerly pressing your palm against the wound.

“Ouch. Where’d that big of a rock come from?” You grumbled, the projectile clattering a distance away.

He met your eyes as you retracted your gaze from it, a mumbled excuse escaping his lips. “Maybe one of the kids in the neighborhood was up to some mischief.”

Though, in hindsight, it was probably not the most convincing lie, considering how the Creel’s estate was secluded in its own little corner of the main street.

“Hi.” You greeted him with a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace than your usual optimism.

Blood was starting to trickle from the wound, and it did look pretty gnarly when you'd gingerly lifted your hand up a smidge for a look. He'd gotten you good— a jarring gash between your neck and your clavicle. 

‘That'd probably need stitches,’ he thought.

Then again, what were you even doing here on a Saturday morning? 

His eyes drifted slightly away from you to where a couple of books had fallen onto the pavement. 

Ah. He’d forgotten that he'd been the one who'd invited you here, the two of you having made plans at the start of the week to hang out at his place over the weekends.

“That looks nasty.” He said as he pulled you up, holding you steady as you staggered. “Come on, we can get it cleaned up inside.”

Leading you inside, he sat you by the table before pulling out the emergency first-aid kit stashed beneath the sink. 

“Sorry, this'll sting.” He'd apologized, pressing balls of cotton to the wound to stem the bleeding. 

He hadn't meant to, truly. While he hadn't lost control, it had been an instinctive reflex when he'd sent the projectile flying your way.

“Never knew younger kids were into slingshotting rocks these days.” You commented as he worked. 

Surely the kids who lived in this neighborhood hadn't made a habit of randomly throwing rocks in the direction of every bush that so much as rustled in the wind? It was dangerous, for starters.

Henry made a sound of acknowledgment at that, but there was an inexplicable hint of regret that seemed to mar his features even though he supposedly had nothing to do with the incident. 

He may not have said much, but you could tell that there was something else going on.

And as you watched him gingerly thread needle to skin, you wondered just where he'd picked up something like that. He seemed awfully used to the motions, and it wasn't exactly a common skillset for people your age to have.

“How did you learn to do this?” You asked, gesturing to the bandages and the medical supplies laid out before you.

“My father was in the military. He often came back with wounds that needed redressing, so he’d taught me how to.” He shrugged.

Henry said nothing of his father’s past actions. Of how he was capable of seeing more than he should. Know things that he shouldn’t have known. 

People’s deepest, darkest secrets, he found, had been what enraptured him. It was as intriguing as it was profane to see the horrendous acts that some people had once committed in the past, only to hide them behind a perfectly crafted facade that they showed everyone. 

Or maybe he just had a twisted sense of humor.

After putting the last stitch in and cutting the thread, he'd dressed it with a bandage before declaring with a smile, looking proud of his own handiwork. “All good now. Though you should get it checked out at the hospital later, just in case.”

“Thanks, Henry.” You thanked him, tilting your head in question as he got out of his seat, waving for you to follow him.

“Come on.” He’d called out from somewhere above the stairs as he disappeared around a corner.

And follow him up the winding stairs, you did.

“There isn't much here, but make yourself at home.” 

He'd brought you up to the one place he felt at peace, the attic, the main reason why he'd even invited you to his home in the first place. An offer that you'd been quick to accept despite his initial hesitations. 

He knew that the spiders he'd kept as company weren't exactly everyone's cup of tea, so he hadn’t been sure when he’d extended that particular invitation. But now that he was sitting on the floor and watching as you moved about his space with apparent glee, he was glad he did.

His eyes followed you as you wandered the small area he'd claimed as his own, something unreadable hidden in the shadows of his gaze. 

He observed the way your fingers drifted over the small glass bottles he’d collected, once hidden under the wooden floorboards, in an almost reverent manner. The way your face lit up, as you carefully held one up to the light, watching the way the spiders within skittered in their small makeshift terrariums. You loved them too, he realized.

“Call it a hobby of mine.” He'd explained when you'd faced him with marvel in your eyes, asking about his collection of jarred specimens. Especially since the ones he'd kept were not the sort that people usually kept as pets. Black widows hardly made good pets, but somehow, he'd seemed to have made it work out in his case. 

“Look at them go!” You gushed. 

They were oddly docile as they crawled along his arm, their spindly legs waving as they scuttled atop the tip of his fingers, standing proud and tall.

“They seem to like you an awful lot.” You observed. “Maybe because you're a lot like them.”

Something tickled at him then, an odd fuzzy feeling that he couldn't quite understand. Perhaps this was what people felt to be understood, he realized, even if just a little.

And as your eyes passed the many sketches he'd made of his spiders, you had a feeling that he didn't exactly go around showing these things to just anyone. Gradually, you realized that you'd reached a mutual understanding with Henry. 

Or at least, you’d like to think so.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Things changed a couple of months later when your continued presence beside Henry was noticed, and not in a good way. 

Word about you hanging around the oddball had spread, and while you didn’t quite care about what others had to say about you either way, the same couldn’t be said about people who were unsettled by the rumors. A faction that had only rapidly increased in size over time. And in some sense, severity. 

Things had only seemed to spiral, unbeknownst to you both.

Some students had uncovered what happened back in Henry’s old place of dwelling, drawing speculations about what happened, although no one truly knew for sure. You’d overheard a few of those that had been circulating the school while you’d moved about the campus. And you had to admit that while some of the hypotheses were plausible, most of them were outright ridiculous with how far-fetched they sounded, even to your ears.

Some said that Henry had been a monster in human skin, while others claimed that he’d caused tragedies to befall those who’d wronged him and his family, which only caused people to give him a wider berth. A witch, perhaps.

That had made you raise an eyebrow. Because, really? While odd, he wasn’t exactly prone to getting a black cat as a pet, stirring potions in a pot while hexing the next person who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Although the thought that crossed your mind did make you chuckle. 

Henry with a big floppy witch hat and an awfully sharp scowl on his face? Now, that was interesting. Maybe you should make him wear one during Halloween just for a good laugh.

But as uncaring as you were of the consequences that came to associating yourself with him, it eventually caught up to you one day, when you inevitably found yourself singled out and surrounded. 

Thank god for Henry, for he'd happened to be in the area when that happened.

He'd spotted the little entourage surrounding you from across the field. He hadn't thought much of it at first, assuming that you'd just hit them up to extend an invite to another group hangout or something. 

After all, hadn't you done the same to him back when he was still relatively new? 

However, he soon noticed that something wasn't quite right when the group hadn't dispersed even after a while. He didn't like the way they were crowding you. And although their backs were to him, he could see the strained smile you wore.

He'd picked up the pace then, heading towards your location.

“Hey, you alright?” He called out as he approached.

However, the little group that had gathered around you instantly scattered the moment he got within a meter's radius. 

His brow furrowed. Odd. 

They were actively avoiding him, giving him wary side eyes as he passed, almost as if afraid, and that usually meant one thing.

“Henry!” You'd exclaimed upon his arrival, your once-strained smile morphing into a genuine one, although it did little to hide your apparent unease.

Unease. With what? He'd never seen you so perturbed, until now.

“What did they want with you?” He questioned, eyes narrowing at the mark he'd noticed your arm now sported. 

Looked an awful lot like a handprint, didn't it?

“Just a word of warning, nothing serious.” You replied.

He saw a flicker of guilt flash past your features before it was gone like the wind. That hadn't been the whole picture; he could tell. And you were being cagey about it, something you never really did. Those guys definitely hadn't been here just to have a conversation.

You looked around warily before bringing a hand up to whisper into his ear, changing the topic before he could pry further. “Word out there is that you’re cursed, you know. They think you cursed them, robbed them of their sleep. It's just an unproven theory, though.”

He’d laughed at that, as if it were the most inane thing he’d heard all day. “Cursed? Me?” 

But there was something in his laugh that seemed to have fallen flat; something knowing and resigned. Maybe… this hadn’t been the first time something of a similar vein had happened.

With a wry shake of his head and a humorous quip, he’d instantly shot down your doubts. “No, of course not. I’m just a boy, not some eldritch being as people are so keen to label me as.”

Realization dawned upon you then, grimly setting into your features. “You already know about the rumors, don’t you?”

He’d shared an equally resigned smile with you. It was something that he'd long been aware of, and he had his own way of dealing with unsavory parties.

“Did they do this then?” He'd reached for your arm, fingers brushing over the reddened skin that was starting to bruise from the force they'd used to grab you with, he assumed. 

Such marks didn't belong on you.

There was a rueful look in his eye that was masking something unintelligible, something that you couldn’t quite make out. A new untenable factor… that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end when his movements against your arm finally paused.

The newfound glint in his eye as he looked up at you… It was unnatural. Uncanny.

Haunting.

He’d uttered a question then, parsed kindly despite the coldness that seemed to undulate beneath it by a hair’s breadth. “Did you know them? …Who were they?”

His tone was laced ever so thinly with a sliver of ice, something that you hadn’t quite known him to be capable of. 

Since when… was your friend capable of harboring such darkness?

Something funny scratched at your brain. There was an unmistakable feeling of something foreign and different about him at this moment. 

Why did Henry feel so far, even while he was so close at hand, standing merely within arm’s reach? 

You’d shaken your head, adamant on keeping your silence. Perhaps you’d done it to protect him, but little did you know that it had only sent Henry on a mission.

The presence at the back of his mind rose then, roused by fear or conviction, he wasn’t sure. But this time, he welcomed the fog that seemed to reach out to his consciousness, the tendrils of red death, as he’d come to know.

He'd hurt you once, though it had been largely due to an oversight on his part, but he wasn't about to sit by and let it happen again. 

No, he'd smiled. Not under his watch. You wouldn't be harmed because of him, much less by fools who went after the people around him because of their own cowardice.

So the spider spun his web— a tensile web so tightly woven that it snared anyone in its path with vindictive fervor.

He’d gotten a close look at one of them as they fled and committed their face to memory. Finding them was going to be easy enough, he thinks. And like a gift from the heavens, the scales tipped in his favor mere hours later. 

He'd found them loitering around the side of the field by the gym, alone. School was out, which meant that there wouldn’t be anyone missing them anytime soon.

Bingo.

“Hello.” He greeted them, facing them with a smile so disarming that they’d started to second-guess their initial accusations against him. “Do you happen to know the way to the science room?” He'd asked, easily playing the part of an innocent new freshman.

All color seemed to drain out of their faces at his sudden appearance. 

He'd heard it then. An exclamation hissed under a breath. “What's the monster doing here?”

A panicked whisper. “Shh, he'll hear you.”

A fearful murmur. “Did you think…. Did you think he heard us back there?”

It brought about a morbid sense of amusement within Henry when he realized that he barely had to do anything to invoke such a response in them. 

Didn't even have to lift a finger. Yet.

He watched as they exchanged fleeting glances with each other, before their eyes landed back on him, guarded and wary. A shaky smile formed on one of their faces, but even Henry could tell that it was forced. 

An act of futile bravery.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. He supposed there was some truth to the saying, so often used.

“So… rumor has it that…” His voice dropped, his tone falling flat as he spoke of their transgressions against you. Against him. All the baseless accusations that had built up over time, only to finally boil over in a cacophonic tide.

“We meant no harm! It's just all in a bit of fun, really!”

His thoughts flashed back to the way he'd found you. The blooming bruise that stood starkly against your skin— something that shouldn't have been there in the first place. Least of all, with him as the cause of it.

“Fun?” He'd echoed, his tone passive as he stared them down.

The corners of his lips gently lifted as he quirked his head in a mocking manner. “Was it fun? Tormenting someone beneath you?”

“Tell me, did you enjoy it?”

A minute distortion rippled through the air at the rise of his fingers. Hand outstretched, he’d sent them screaming, raising horrific visions in the day. He watched as they clawed at their eyes, moaning pathetically at his feet.

Satisfaction ebbed through his veins as he watched them writhe, trapped in their own personal hell. 

Could he have done more? Certainly. 

He'd thought about snapping their bones, bending them every which way in an act of vicious mutilation. 

The presence in his mind wanted it, craved it, yearned for it. It itched at the back of his mind, insistent and hungry. An urge so tangible that it almost felt like his own, so much that it almost convinced him. 

But that wasn't him.  Or was it? 

No.  He curled his hand into a fist as he lowered it. This was a warning, a taste of his potential.

And then, he was gone. 

Henry Creel had vanished the day after.

With not a word to be heard, and nowhere to be seen, it was almost as if he’d disappeared into thin air. But even with the subject at the heart of all the sprawling rumors gone, it didn’t cease. People had stopped coming after you, sure, but you were no wiser than they were when it came to his whereabouts. 

You did, however, notice a difference ever since Henry’s disappearance. The small group of upperclassmen that had approached you that day had started religiously avoiding you, even making a point to keep their heads down whenever you were around, whispering about something under their breath. The way they regarded you with wary eyes and an equal dose of nervousness told you that they were afraid. 

But, why?

You furrowed your brow as you passed them, catching a few muffled words. Between the hushed, panicked, and fearful tones that brushed past your ears, you heard something… something that sounded oddly like a prayer.

Word of the incident that had taken place in the field that day spread through the town soon after, accompanied by news of the fact that no one had seen anything of the Creel boy ever since. You’d only come to know of the bigger news when it’d gone on the news a couple of weeks later, one that overshadowed the entire fieldtime mishap that had transpired one dreary afternoon. 

The TV screen crackled with static as the tabloid news headlines flashed before your astonished eyes, the audio drifting in and out in intermittent measures as the report was delivered live on air. 

Victor Creel had been arrested for the first-degree murder of his family, only to be incarcerated in Pennhurst after the court had decreed him not guilty by reason of insanity. The feed then switched to the footage of workers boarding up the now abandoned Creel house, followed soon after by interviews of witnesses and ‘victims’ that had fallen prey to the ‘demon’ that the patriarch had claimed to have brought this calamity upon his household.

Good riddance, some might have thought. Finally, an end to the madness.

But the ‘victims,’ the ones who'd cornered you, were hesitant in their testimonials. Almost as if they'd forgotten what had happened despite having lived through the ordeal.

Similarly, no one truly knew what had transpired in both cases.

And yet… not a word was spoken in farewell. He hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye before he left. Then again, how could he when he had been hospitalized in a coma after the tragedy that had taken place?

Like the flickering embers of a dying fire, the rumors, as did the memory of him, faded into the background as the town gradually moved on. The ‘demon’ had been put to rest, and the townsfolk were more than happy to put the harrowing series of incidents behind them, but you?

Your gaze shifted to the paper spider that sat by the windowsill, basking under the golden rays of the setting sun behind the protection of the clear glass panes. 

You’d brought it into the safety of your room after it had caught your attention one morning before the stirring gales could whisk it away, a tiny black shadow in the corner of your vision on an otherwise sunny day. An unexplained offering that had appeared shortly before his disappearance, crafted with handiwork that you distinctly recognized— Henry’s. 

After all, who else was capable of such neatly pressed edges and clean-cut folds? A picture-perfect recreation of an arachnid. Small, unsuspecting, and… oddly enough, you had a feeling that whatever had gone down with the Creels on the day of the massacre wasn't entirely as the news had made it out to be.

Even so, you hoped Henry was alright, wherever he was now.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Years later, in an establishment far outside of town. A man stood before the window, hand pressed against the glass as he stared out into the distance. He watched as the armored trucks pulled in for the day, and the people beneath busied about like ants.

He'd wondered often, during days when time seemed to stagnate. Whatever happened to that one friend of his in the past that he used to play with? The stupid little girl across the neighborhood who should have known better, who would never fail to greet him with infectious cheer and an equally stupid smile, took the time to listen to him speak, and while others called him names, she didn't look at him as if he was just that.

—A monster wearing the skin of a human.

And as if to add insult to the wound he never knew he had, the girl shared his fascination with spiders, something that would have deterred most. He hadn't thought much of it at first, but over time, he'd slowly come to realize that he'd missed it. 

Perhaps his time apart from society had made him yearn for someone to talk to. Someone who wasn’t a cold white plaster wall, or blinding ceiling lights. A piece of the past to cling to whenever his mind tired of the countless experiments the lab had subjected him to. 

“Peter.” A stern voice sounded, snapping him out of his reverie. 

He drew his eyes away from the bustling scene of men unloading cargo beneath the glass panels that separated them.

Martin Brenner.

A flicker of distaste rose up within him at the dictatorial tone that commanded his attention. One that he unfortunately answered to like a well-trained lapdog. 

It had become second nature in his time here. Part of a survival instinct ingrained in him so deeply that it would take a lot, and then some more, to shake off. 

Whatever crumb of nostalgia had surfaced within his eyes at the thought of the past, he’d made the conscious effort to quash before it could be seen. It wouldn't do to give the head scientist any more ammunition than he already had.

Henry had learnt his lessons in captivity, and he’d learnt them well. Enough to be kept openly on a leash. It was a short one, nonetheless, being forced to play the role of caretaker. But he would take anything after all he’d been through. 

Anything to feel even the slightest bit human again, even if he now knew that he was not. 

He was more. Far more.

And when he finally turned, eyes drawing up to meet the man’s sharp gaze, he was no more than Peter Ballard. Docile, meek, and perfectly ready to bend at the crook of the Doctor’s finger, lest he, too, meet the fate of being discarded, like many of his other ‘brethren’.

A failed test subject, he was not. After all, he had the ink to prove it, didn’t he? In big bold font, his skin marred eternally by the black numbers that bore his name to the world. 

The cuff of his sleeve shifted as he clasped his hands behind his back, standing at attention under Dr. Brenner’s observant eyes.

The index case.

His first lesson after getting processed had been patience. Gone was the rashness alongside the young boy he’d once been.

He watched silently with an unreadable expression as the head scientist surveyed him, recognizing the calculating glint in the older man's eyes all too well.

Was he in trouble? Had he done something to garner his displeasure? Oh, no. He held the man’s gaze as it shifted towards his arm, to something… behind him? 

He tensed, but his worries were soon put to rest as the older man plainly stated with a long-suffering sigh. “You’re dripping blood everywhere, son.”

Drip. He felt the wet trail of blood sliding down the length of his arm, and the unmistakable feeling of wet fabric sticking to his skin. Sticky and uncomfortable.

How had he not realized it? 

It was a troubling thought, but perhaps he had already gotten used to it, desensitized by his many years here. Long enough to see his attending doctor’s once full head of brown wash out into silver.

He felt as the doctor’s fingers curled around his lower arm, lifting it closer so that he could inspect the injury. 

A wide gash had been opened down the side of his arm, but the sight of blood, so usual an occurrence, no longer fazed either of them. 

Henry only tilted his head in a questioning manner, as if Dr. Brenner held the answers to his curious plight. 

When had he sustained this injury? The last experimental ‘class’ he’d been overseeing, perhaps? 

He then watched as Brenner took the handkerchief he always carried around out of his breast pocket, as pristine and immaculate as the lab he worked out of, and pressed it against the open wound. And although he shook his head in exasperation, he didn’t seem to mind the fact that Henry was bleeding all over the white cloth.

“Go get it checked out. It wouldn’t do for the children to see their favorite caretaker all bloodied up now, would it?” He said. “What sort of example would that set, hm?”

His second lesson had been compliance, for he soon learnt that going along with the dear old doctor’s whims tended to make things go more smoothly. Though Henry's cooperation had not come easily in the early days, and he did love to make Brenner work for it.

Oh, the lengths to which this man had tried to win his trust back then. He missed it, even. Foolish as he’d been to listen to the words of a snake who’d masked ‘ambition’ under the guise of ‘acceptance’. But he was young, impressionable, and… No. He promptly put a stop to that thought. Ruminating over the past wouldn’t change anything. 

He lifted his eyes from the red-stained cloth after pressing a firm hand against it to hold it in place. Brenner was still waiting for an answer.

“Of course, Papa.” He smiled. Even though stepping a foot into that accursed room was the last thing he wanted to do. But it would make things go much better if he did, wouldn’t it?

Hence, he made his way to the Infirmary. A room he'd been acquainted with so familiarly that he could probably still locate it even in his sleep.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Opening the door, he was greeted concurrently by a bright smile, a well-lit room, and an equally chipper greeting before he’d even gotten a foot in. 

“Hi! How can I help?” said a voice he didn't recognize. There was a short pause, followed by the faintest utterance of an “oh,” which Henry assumed was because the nurse on duty had finally caught sight of the bloody state of his arm.

He squinted his eyes slightly at the change in lighting. 

This was new. When did the lab get a new nurse?

No matter. He did hope that the nurse wasn’t squeamish, at least; it would make for a short tenure.

The nurse’s initial smile had slipped as her eyes lingered on his silhouette, but she quickly gathered herself, waving him in as she slipped on a new pair of nitrile gloves. “Come on then, have a seat. Let’s have a look at that, shall we?”

He cast a cursory glance at the newcomer in vague curiosity as he settled into the patient's chair. 

A new face. How rare. 

Dr. Brenner wasn’t exactly known for his penchant for adding or approving new personnel into the lab, considering the high confidentiality and security that seemed to surround this place. Not to mention how off-record everything that went on here was. And, if anything, Henry had prided himself on knowing everyone on the rotations. Or at least, those on shift duty that he often interacted with. 

One could never be too careful, and it was always better to keep a wary eye out.

Snip.

He watched as the scissors cut through the sleeve that had unfortunately adhered to the wound with a slight grimace, making a mental note that he'd need to put in a request for a new set to be provided after he was done here. He only had so many shirts he could go through, after all.

He then felt hands gently maneuver his arm as the nurse on duty got to work assessing his injury. His gaze fixated on the wound, now that he could actually take the time to see the damage that had been wrought on his flesh, its edges puckered and angry from how long he'd left it untended.

“Good that you came in when you did,” the nurse murmured as she disinfected the wound, “any longer, and it probably would've gotten infected.”

He made a non-committal sound in response. 

If only, then perhaps he would have an excuse not to show up for duty. But knowing Dr. Brenner, he would never let something like that happen, much less to a prized specimen of his.

Henry's eyes flickered up, unblinking even as stitches were placed into his skin, suturing the wound shut with practiced ease. He watched as the nurse worked, his gaze lingering for a second more, even after the nurse drew away to set the soiled medical tools aside after the additional bandage was snipped, and the rest secured.

It was only when the nurse turned back to address him with a smile on her face did he finally look away, breaking the line of contact. 

“Not the best work you’ve seen, I’m sure, but it’ll function well enough. Keep it dry, and it should heal fine.” She said.

“No, it’s quite alright.” He replied, getting off the chair he’d been perched on.

And as he left the room with a murmured word of thanks under his breath, a niggling feeling tickled at the back of his mind. There was something familiar about the nurse. Something he couldn’t quite place. 

Something…

“Hen— Peter, wait!” 

He froze, the sharp call of his name instantly stopping him in his tracks and snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned to face the nurse who had popped back out from behind the closed door with the customary smile he always wore. “Yes?”

“Uh…” The way she had faltered hadn’t gone unnoticed by him. He watched patiently as she seemed to fumble with her words for a moment before finally holding something out for him to take. “You, uh… forgot your ID card.”

Had it fallen from its clasp on his belt loop?  He was slipping, he realized.

“Oh. Sorry, I must have… dropped it earlier.” He apologized, confusion flashing across his features as he reached out for it.

He was certain that his ears weren't playing tricks on him, but the first syllable that had been uttered sounded an awful lot like his real name, hadn’t it? One he hadn’t heard in years.

He glanced down at the access card that he always carried around his person. ‘Peter Ballard,’ his name, as was written, followed by his security access clearance, his position, and the bar code that denoted his identity, ending with his signature. Not a single mention of his original identity.

A puzzling thought crossed his mind. 

Why did the nurse know his name? Most of the staff didn’t know it, or were otherwise sworn to silence. But for someone new to know of it? Had she read his file?

No, that can’t be right. Dr. Brenner had kept that firmly under lock and key, hidden somewhere well-guarded within his personal office alongside the other important documents that most didn’t even know existed.

Which begged the question, who were you, really?

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

It didn't really click until he'd seen you again, in the rainbow room where he was almost always permanently situated. You'd walked in, dressed in all white, as per regulation— a uniform much like his own.

His thoughts stilled as he met your eyes from his station, curiosity pooling within its depths. However, you’d frozen a few steps in, your hand still on the handle of the door, the moment you’d caught sight of him in the room. He could see the recognition in your eyes.

Well, well, weren't you the new nurse he'd seen the other day? 

He watched as you took to position, falling in step with the children who swarmed around the apparent newcomer, greeting them warmly with a smile. The way you’d interacted with them told him that you weren’t exactly a green hand in this field.

One of the kids had even laughed, sharing what seemed like an inner joke between you two. Something that had surprised even Henry, a constant in their lives. A small huff of laughter that spoke millions in a place where tension often ran high, and fights broke out more often than civil conversations. 

You were a highly amiable individual then, he noted, waiting till the crowd of children slowly dispersed back to their little groups scattered around the room. 

Then, keeping his eyes trained ahead, he started up a conversation with his shift partner for the day.

“So…” he started, “not the new residential nurse, I take it?”

“No, I was just standing in for the nurse who went on break.”

Ah. An orderly, then? Perhaps he’d seen you in passing?

There was an air of nervousness around you now that the two of you were left standing in a corner. Gone was the relaxed nature you had when interacting with the children in the room. You seemed almost… wary. On guard. About what, he couldn't tell.

“That was some pretty neat stitchwork for someone who isn’t one. Whoever taught you must've been good.” He mused.

“What can I say, I was inspired.” There was a slight wistfulness in the way you smiled as you gestured to his arm. “How’s the wound?”

“All healed up thanks to you. Are you sure you weren—” He'd started, only to be cut off by a startled yelp that instantly caught both of your attentions.

You both turned towards the source of the sound, alert, noticing that some of the children had gathered around a corner, huddled in a small circle. Oddly enough, they even seemed to be whispering amongst themselves. 

Oh dear, the scientists hated it when the children congregated like that, didn’t they? 

Henry could already hear the telltale whirr of the camera as it picked up on the activity in the room.

“What's going on here?” He called out as the two of you approached the small group, raising a few heads in the process.

A few of the children parted from the close-knit circle, pointing at something, allowing the two of you to see what lay, or rather, stood, in the center.

A spider skittered atop a pile of building blocks, seemingly alarmed at the presence of the gaggle of children it had been surrounded by. It had its fangs raised, clearly feeling threatened by all the activity.

“Funny creature.” One of them had chirped.

“Never seen anything like that before…” Came a whisper from the sidelines.

You blinked. Had these kids not seen a spider before? Then again, you supposed that made sense considering how sterile and clean the entire lab seemed to be. There hadn’t been a single bug in sight despite how this building was situated in the middle of literal wilderness. Pest control must have made a killing here, now that you thought about it.

Another one of the older kids had a hand out, eyeing it in a less than inquisitive manner. Glancing between the child’s intent stare and the small critter, you drew the blanks together. It reminded you of the way people looked at specimens before they dissected them… Not a fun thought to have, especially when such cruelty was placed in conjunction with a child who looked no less than five.

The spider seemed to jerk in its spot, its legs skittering frantically as it spun on the spot. As if it had lost its own sense of gravity despite being on solid ground.

“Okay, let’s get the spider out of the way.” You stepped in then, moving in front of the child and blocking off their line of sight. You scooped it up without so much as a second thought, completely oblivious to the way Henry had taken to staring at you as if you'd just grown a second head at the action.

He'd only known one other person who hadn't seemed to fear or have an instant kill-on-sight switch installed in them upon spotting an eight-legged critter like that, venomous or otherwise— you.  However, he dismissed the thought before it could form. 

That couldn’t be right, and he knew it. Far be it from him to let his buried thoughts creep up on him like that. You were supposed to be miles away from the goings-on here, as far as he was concerned.

“Spider?” Echoed a child. “What’s a spider?” Asked another.

You saw the owl-eyed looks they were giving it as you held it in your hand. Bringing it closer to them, but letting it remain a safe jumping distance away, you watched as some heads edged closer to get a curious look at the spindly creature sitting docilely within your palms.

Henry had recognized it for what it was easily enough. It was a widow; a northern black widow, judging from the two red spots on its underbelly. 

Moving with familiarity, he raised a finger, bringing it close to your palm.

“Here, let me.” He said, watching as it instantly scuttled up the proffered limb as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

Something in him settled with a sigh as he took a moment to admire the little creature with the same reverence he’d once handled his own widows with. It’d been a long time since he'd seen one, and perhaps he’d missed it, too, in a way.

He tilted his head when he noticed the way your eyes seemed to linger on him and the spider. The way your lips had parted, as if wanting to say something more, only for you to swallow the words that had been at the tip of your tongue at the last moment.

“Stay with them. I'll handle it.” He reassured you, nodding towards the gathered crowd of curious children.

It wasn't till he stepped out of the room, leaving you to sate the children's piqued curiosities, that it'd hit him— a rising suspicion he couldn't quite quash despite his best efforts.

What if you hadn't been as far removed from all of this as he'd initially been led to think? 

The doctor had given him his word, back when he had yet to become ‘papa,’ that the friend he'd left behind was alive and well. And would continue to be, as long as he complied.

But Papa was known to speak in half-truths, wasn't he? 

Walking down the corridor in search of the nearest window, a crease formed between his brows as he mulled over the possibility of it.

For starters, the new orderly had gone by a different name from yours, which clearly meant that despite whatever chord she seemed to strike in him, she was clearly of no relation to you. But those eyes that seemed to see through him spoke of a different tune. 

Unless… Had they crafted a new identity for you, as they did for him? Turned you into yet another orderly that no one thought to give a second glance to?

No, but even then… the two of you had different depositions. The orderly carried herself differently from the you in his memories, faded as they were; the grim set to her jaw, when she thought no one was looking, a far cry from his ever-spirited companion.

Henry lifted the window pane, watching as the black widow crawled off his finger, retreating back into the safety of the overhanging canopy.

But even so, he couldn't discredit the odd manner in which you'd regarded him, the momentary slip-up, and the spider… which he'd just released back into the wild. His lips thinned into a frown as the pieces started to form.

Clouded with uncertainty, he'd decided to bid his time then. And, once he was sure, he'd make his approach.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

If only he could peer into that little head of yours, then perhaps it would make things easier. It would be over in the snap of a finger. A peek into your mind, and all the information he needed would be within his grasp. 

Things were never that easy for him, unfortunately.

So, Henry, ever-patient, had taken to observing you whenever you were slated for duty in the same shift as him, something that he was sure Dr. Brenner had a hand in. He was almost certain that the old fox had pulled some strings, for you'd been making an appearance around him more often than not, despite the highly regulated scheduling the place was run on.

Few things happened here by chance, and even fewer things were left to coincidence. That being said, he didn't like how the doctor seemed to be toying with him, leaving him to wait and ponder when the other shoe would drop. 

He'd notice your gaze on him when you thought he wasn't looking. But Henry was observant. Of course, he was. He was watching you, wasn't he?

It'd happen every once in a while, where he'd tilt his head in question with a helpless smile on his face in response. To which you'd quickly avert your eyes, embarrassed at having been caught; the way your cheeks coloured prettily at being caught red-handed never failing to elicit a chuckle from him. 

And as Henry stood, collecting all the pieces of the puzzle and slowly drawing the lines to his own conclusions, it all seemed to lead to the same answer. The similarities that had overlapped with his findings were hard to ignore, but denial was man's greatest foe, and just this once, he turned the other way.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

It wasn't until you got into an altercation with one of the kids that he'd finally seen the truth. 

You'd been flung into a wall, hard, and he’d been there to witness it all go down. He watched with mute horror as you were sent careening into a wall of solid concrete with a pained yelp.

It had spurred him to action, moving swiftly to restrain the child that had lashed out in a fit of… What had it been again? Rage? Annoyance? Pain? He didn’t know. But it didn’t matter as he quickly crossed the distance between him and the child in long strides to immobilize them, arms winding around the failing limbs that reached out for him with vicious intent.

Distance that you’d created by putting yourself in the path of danger— by throwing yourself in front of him. An action that had caught him off-guard, if the minute flash of fear in your eyes hadn’t. 

He should’ve shoved you out of the way. But the split-second he’d been distracted was all it took for the psychic force intended for him to slam into you as the child’s telekinetic powers took hold, reducing you into a little more than a puppet to their whims.

Stubborn, reckless, willful… Impulsive.  You had always been the impulsive one between the two of you, hadn’t you? It was how you’d met.

He'd been hesitant, your name at the tip of his tongue. 

No, it couldn’t be… right?

Then, he'd caught sight of it— a definite answer that he couldn’t turn away from, as you lay crumpled on the ground, either unconscious or winded from the impact. A thin silvery thing that peeked out of your collar almost mockingly at him. 

The recognition that flashed in his eyes was instantaneous. And just like that, whatever hesitation he had shattered like fractured glass. 

He knew it for what it was, for he'd wounded you once in that exact same spot. An injury that would scar.

How had he not seen it sooner?

Two things hit him at once. First, the horrifying thought of you actually being here in real flesh and blood, and not as a figment of his imagination. And second, the fact that you'd just impulsively thrown yourself before him without a second thought. 

No one did that. Not here. Not anywhere. And most certainly, not for him. 

It was an entirely foolish thing to do, and he would have laughed at that, had it not been for the fact that you probably hadn't known better. 

The children here wouldn't be able to do anything that hadn't already been done to him, but you didn't know that, did you?

The lights overhead flickered as he glanced down at the struggling child within his grasp, powerless and unarmed. No hands, no psychic waving about, no power. 

He didn’t like doing this, knowing what lay in wait for them once Dr. Brenner came striding through the doors, but for once, he thinks it deserved. 

“Enough.” He hissed, tightening his hold around the child’s smaller frame. “Stop this foolishness before more damage is done.”

He knew that it would be soon, as the doctor always made a personal appearance whenever things went awry. And, just like clockwork, the doors swung open moments later, but it wasn't the doctor like he'd been expecting. Instead, two orderlies walked in. 

They were armed, he noted, spotting the sheathed shock batons hanging from their belts as they approached.

“We'll take it from here. Dr. Brenner's orders.” One of the orderlies said, signaling for him to let go of his charge, which he instantly acquiesced to.

“Do you need a medic?” The other orderly inquired upon spotting you a distance away.

Henry followed his gaze to where you were currently half-standing and half-leaning against the wall you'd been flung into earlier, somewhere between picking yourself up and slumping back down.

“No, I'll handle it.” He said, watching as the other orderly nodded before leaving the room after they'd finished assessing the damage caused by the little incident, scribbling notes in a notepad as they went.

The moment the doors swung shut with finality was the moment he'd immediately turned on his heel, his attention zeroing in on you.

You were conscious then. Good, he wanted answers.

⊹ ━━━ ✥ ━━━ ⊹

Henry had brought you to the infirmary despite your insistence that you were fine. An argument that was instantly shot down the moment he'd caught you as you nearly toppled back down moments after assuring him otherwise.

“I can have myself checked out.” You pointed out.

“Sit.” Was all he’d said, placing his hands on your shoulders as he firmly seated you down.

“I’m fine, Peter. Just a bump is all.” You sighed, but it was clear that he wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer with the way the pressure on your shoulder increased.

The nurse was out again, so here you sat, perched atop a stool as he gently felt around your head, feeling out any bumps you might have sustained from the fall.

And as his fingers roamed with purpose, he wondered if his first meeting with you here, when he’d been sent to the infirmary to get his wound checked, had been staged. 

Had it just been a play of power to show him that they had another pawn to hold over his head? To let him know that his disobedience had a price, even though he already knew that better than most? 

The doctor would have known who you were, no doubt, given that he'd asked about you once in his youth. And if anything, he knew Dr. Brenner was thorough in everything he did. He would've dug up every bit of information he could find on you. Plus, he had eyes everywhere in the lab, knew the rotations in and out, and all personnel like the back of his hand. The lab was his playhouse, and you, unfortunately, were stuck in it, just like he was.

“You got off easy, from the looks of it. Just a nasty bruise or three.” He concluded after a while, but his hands remained as his attention shifted.

His fingers moved lower, resting on the back of your neck as his thumb brushed against the scar, raising goosebumps along your skin. It had healed well over time, he noted, leaving only a faint and slightly raised mark to show the wound that had once been there.

“So…” He started, noticing the way you’d instinctively stiffened at the gesture.

You were just about to jerk yourself away from his hold when the firm mention of your name stopped you in your tracks. You froze as icy blue eyes locked firmly onto yours.

“Were you ever going to tell me, or was I supposed to figure it out myself?” His voice was quiet, almost level in intonation, but you could tell from the way his fingers pressed down that he was anything but.

You swallowed thickly, casting your gaze to the ground. Towards his meticulously shined shoes. Immaculate, like the rest of him. Just like Dr. Brenner’s had been. You could see where he picked that up from.

“What good would it do?”

What good would it have done, indeed.

“I could've prevented the entire incident from happening.” His words were bitter, angry. Both at you, and himself.

Nothing. There was nothing he could have done if he were being truthful with himself.

“Flinging yourself in front of me? What sort of self-sacrificial idiot does that?” He hissed, eyes narrowing as his frustration was delivered in a single snipping comment.

You, apparently. Because you’d finally found him after years of searching in vain. Because of a hope you’d been too stubborn to let go of.

“And what? Did you have a better solution?” You'd challenged him, eyes glinting with the same stubbornness he'd missed. 

Except, he couldn't find it in himself to appreciate it now, with the current circumstances.

“You're as helpless as I am here, Henry. Admit it.” You jabbed a finger at him in accusation.

He scowled. You were right, and he knew it just as well. But unbeknownst to you, he was planting seeds. Seeds that would one day sprout, and hopefully, something would come out of his efforts.

“I know what you did to those upperclassmen back then.” A moment of silence lapsed before you continued in a slightly rueful manner, “but without your mind-bending abilities, you're just as human as I am, aren’t you?”

Human? What normal person, pray tell, was able to read minds, warp perception, and bend reality to their will?

“Am I?” He scoffed.

“I've seen you levitate rocks, Henry. I'm not stupid. I know what I saw, even if Dr. Brenner hadn’t told me about it when I ended up here."

He narrowed his eyes. You knew about his abilities? Though not entirely, it seemed. If you’d known what he was truly capable of, then perhaps you wouldn’t have pulled the stunt that you did. 

He knew the doctor was somehow involved in your involvement; he just didn’t know the whys and the hows behind it all. And it appears that Dr. Brenner hadn't been entirely truthful with you, if he had even been at all about how he could snap necks with a mere twitch, rending limbs and flesh with a single focused thought— violence, that came to him as simple and natural as breathing. 

The anger of being kept in the dark flared through his veins as he entertained the thought of ripping the doctor to shreds, as always. But it faded soon after, for he knew that if it hadn’t been for him, he would never have understood his capabilities as well as he did now. Then, it morphed into a slow ebb and flow of sadness when he knew that you were doomed to the same fate as him, stuck in this prison.

And as he mulled over his thoughts, unmoving, you took his silence as permission to continue.

"Why do you think I'm here, Henry?" You’d laughed then, bitter in a way he’d never thought he’d ever come to associate with you.

"I knew you were out there somewhere, so I looked into it. The more I looked, the more questions arose, so I went around to your place to see if I could find anything that might have been left behind.” You shook your head as you continued, almost wry as you spoke. “Some agents caught me sneaking around the area a couple of years ago. I guess they had it under surveillance, which would make sense. Next thing I knew, they’d knocked me out, and I’d woken up in a room with a gun pointed at me.”

“That's when I knew that I was in over my head, and whatever you were involved in was clearly not something I should've been poking my nose into. But by then, it was already too late.”

You’d looked up at him then. “He forced me to make a choice. I think you know the rest.” 

“Be a willing accomplice to the doctor’s sick little game or get your brains blown out?” Henry scoffed at how typical it was. It hadn’t been the first time that Dr. Brenner had pulled something like that. 

But why had you even been looking for him in the first place?

“So here I am, playing nurse, orderly, whatever he wants me to be. And… it looks like I found you, after all.”

You’d taken a deep breath then, shaken despite how the incident had transpired years ago. You thought that you'd have gotten over it by now— the results of your own actions. After all, hadn’t you gotten what you wanted in the end? Just not in the way you’d imagined.

“A nurse?” Henry had laughed, a small mocking sound. He was almost hysterical at your luck. You'd been so, so lucky. And you didn't have a clue. “And what gave you the idea that I was still alive? I was told that I'd been proclaimed dead to the world.”

You'd pulled out a paper spider from one of your pockets then, wrinkled and creased from the many times you'd thumbed over its edges.

A piece of craftwork, and a reminder so foolish he could cry.

"All this over a spider?"

“—He could've made you a test subject.” He said after a moment’s silence, almost as if afraid to broach the subject.

“And do you know what happens to test subjects that fail to adapt?” He continued, in a solemn tone that you'd never heard him take.

Henry had seen the adverse reactions some subjects had to the original experiments. And if the other conditions they had been put through hadn't killed you then, he was almost certain that the blood and the psychedelics would. His blood, otherworldly and corrosive as it flared through your veins, destroying you from within if the medicine hadn't driven you to insanity first.

And that had only been a fraction of what he knew of the experiments that truly went on in this institution. Who knew what else they had hidden down in the labyrinths of the lab?

Or, worse. He dreaded thinking of the possibility that they could have just as easily made him kill you in a test of his abilities, disguised as yet another experiment. He'd be none the wiser until he saw the body once it’d been wheeled out of the room. And by then…

“They die a death so horrific that a gun would seem sweet in comparison." He whispered a truth so chilling that it sent a shiver right through you.

The way his voice had wavered struck something deep within you. The weight of your actions, so natural at the time, seemed to now weigh like a ton of bricks atop his conscience. 

If he had known this would happen, he wouldn't have left you that little trinket. And although a part of him was dismayed that his suspicions had turned out to be true, a small part of him was happy you were here, twisted as it was, no matter how much he wished you weren't. 

“Reckless little fool.” 

You could feel the slight tremor of his hand as he pulled you closer, his words dripping with harsh disapproval. But you could tell that there was no real bite behind his bark. If anything, it'd come off as a little self-depreciating on his part, as if he'd blamed himself for letting this happen in the first place.

Even so, he could do with a familiar face in the spiral of madness. Or company, really. He did wish that times were as simple as it was back then, but now that you were both at the mercy of whatever the scientists in this lab had planned… He’ll just have to do his best to keep you out of harm’s way.

“We’ll have to get a handle on your recklessness, won’t we?” He said, drawing away soon after, but you could see the reluctance in his eyes, so you took his hand into yours, rubbing soothing circles into it. 

His fingers curled around yours, reminiscent of the handshake you’d once exchanged. Except now, he wasn’t in any hurry to let go. He wonders then, if both of you would ever be free of this forsaken place. But until then, at least you had each other. 

And Henry? Oh, he wasn't letting go of you this time.

Which was precisely why Steve Harrington’s hands were currently in your hair, his lips warm and soft against yours, and why the door to your bedroom was closed. He pulled you closer, so that your chests were pressed together, his hands now around your waist underneath your sweater.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmured against your lips, you blushed at his praise but kissed him again so he wouldn’t notice.

You laced your fingers through his hair and let him slip his tongue into your mouth.

“Y’know,” Steve murmured between kisses, “being your secret boyfriend is kinda exciting. Dangerous. Very ‘Romeo and Juliet,’ except your brother is way scarier than any Capulet.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing him again. “He’s fourteen, and you’re eight inches taller than him.”

“Exactly,” Steve said dramatically, in between kisses. “Peak unpredictability.”

You laughed, just in time to hear the front door slam.

Your blood froze and Steve jumped, turning to look at you slowly.

“NO. No, no, no—he’s not supposed to be here!” you hissed, scrambling to help Steve off the bed.

From the hallway came Dustin’s voice, loud as ever:

“HELLOOOO? Anybody home? Mom’s working late, so I brought snacks!”

Steve mouthed a silent run, but before you could shove him under the bed he stumbled to the ground, taking you with him, and your door swung open.

Dustin stood there.

Holding a bag of Doritos in one hand, a pint of ice cream in the other.

His eyes dropped to Steve on the floor, with you on top of him.

Both of you blushing, sweating, and looking very guilty.

Both grocery items dropped to the floor, as well as Dustin’s jaw.

There was a three-second pause before Dustin broke the sound barrier.

“WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. HELL.” He looked directly at Steve, “YOU SHITHEAD.”

“Dustin, listen—”

“NO. No listening. EXPLAIN.” He pointed dramatically, first at you, then Steve. “Are you two—? Is this—? ARE YOU DATING HARRINGTON?”

You opened your mouth, but Steve beat you to it.

“Uh… surprise?”

Dustin shrieked. A real shriek that could shatter glass. You winced.

He turned and ran out of the room, slamming your door behind him.

You sighed and rolled off of Steve, placing both your hands over your face.

“Thank god he didn’t come like 10 minutes later, we would have been in a much more compromising position,” Steve said trying to lighten the mood.

You laughed lightly, but were still covering your face in shame.

Downstairs, Dustin paced the living room like a general prepping for war, looking at the ground emotionless, hands held loosely behind his back. You sat on the couch next to Steve, his thigh against yours grounding you.

Dustin stopped and jabbed a finger at Steve.

“If you hurt her, Harrington, I swear on every one I have ever known, you’re dead.”

Steve lifted both hands. “I’m not gonna hurt her, man. I—look, your sister’s amazing. I like her. A lot.”

Your heart flipped, and you tried to hide your smile.

Dustin stared between you both. Squinted. Then groaned loudly.

“So this is real?” He said in a pitch higher than he meant to.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “It’s real.”

Dustin crossed his arms. “Fine. But I reserve the right to interrogate both of you daily.”

Steve winced. “Oh god.”

“It makes sense now, every time you were both coincidentally busy at the same time… you guys don't have enough friends for that to happen,” Dustin explained, mostly to himself.

You threw your hands up in defense, “we have… a friend or two… maybe…” you said unconvincingly, Steve laughed.

“Well, now that the cat’s out of the bag, you can’t lie anymore and I can join you on your dates,” Dustin stopped pacing and looked at you both triumphantly.

You groaned and leaned your head on Steve’s shoulder.

“Nope nope nope, none of that,” Dustin sat between you both, “so what should we watch?”

Steve’s soul visibly left his body.

Date #1: Movie night.

A few days after Dustin caught you both, Steve walked through the front door and kicked his shoes off like he always does. He waved to Dustin on the couch and began walking to your room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dustin said from the couch with a smile on his face.

“Uhhhh, to your sister’s room,” Steve said, like it was obvious.

Dustin laughed, and then called your name. You emerged from your room and smiled when you saw Steve, you kissed him hello, Dustin gagged.

“We can watch a movie, " Dustin suggested, patting both sides of him on the couch.

“I think we’re going to just hang in my room Dusty,” you said feigning innocence.

“I’ll tell mom you had a boy over, in your room, with the door closed. When she wasn’t home,” Dustin said evilly, glaring at you.

“You wouldn't" you tested him.

“Try me…” he said, not breaking eye contact.

You exhaled and looked at Steve, who shrugged with an awkward smile. You made your way to the couch, motioning for Dustin to move over.

He laughed again, “Nice try.”

He patted each side of him again, one seat for each of you.

You took your seat with a groan of frustration.

“Oh, Steve, be a dear and grab the snacks from the kitchen,” Dustin said, getting comfortable on the couch.

Steve sighed, “anything for you buddy,” he said sarcastically.

You and Steve sat apart. Dustin sat between you with a giant popcorn bucket, narrating the whole film.

Steve whispered, “Is he gonna do this all night?” he asked, looking at you with hopeless eyes.

Before you could answer, Dustin shushed him. “Some of us are trying to enjoy cinema.”

Dustin nodded off around one hour later, finally giving you reprieve to sneak off to your room with your boyfriend, and you made sure to lock the door this time.

Date #2: Picnic at the Lake.

He pulled up in his sleek BMW and you slid into the front seat giving him a kiss on the lips.

“Hi baby,” he said, pulling away from you. Your cheeks flushed at the pet name.

He put the car in reverse, but just as he turned around Dustin came running out of the house waving his arms around with his back pack bouncing up and down.

He got to your open window and placed both hands on the car, panting, “Can I get a ride to the lake?”

“Why do you need to go to the lake Dustin?” Steve asked.

“I have a very important….. Experiment to do, and um I need to be by the lake for it?” He stammered out the lame excuse.

You closed your eyes and sighed, “really? A very important ‘experiment’?”

He nodded with his adorable smile and curls bouncing, knowing you can’t say no to him.

“Get in.” You said annoyed.

He celebrated and slid into the back seat.

Steve sighed and pulled out of the driveway, holding your hand the whole way to the lake.

You brought sandwiches. Steve brought a blanket. Dustin brought binoculars and sat three feet away like a wildlife researcher studying mating rituals.

Steve muttered, “He’s like a very curly-haired mosquito.”

“I think he can hear us,” you said in response, noting how he wasn’t even far enough to need binoculars.

“How’s the experiment going, buddy?” Steve said a little louder.

“Really good! Um great, even. But, what are the odds you brought me a sandwich too?” he asked, turning his attention to you.

You rolled your eyes, “why would I bring a third sandwich for you on my picnic date that was supposed to be just me and my boyfriend?”

He shrugged, “so I can’t have the half you aren’t going to eat?” he asked.

You sighed, again, and extended the sandwich out towards him.

“Yes!” He hopped up from his spot, put his binoculars around his neck and skipped over to you both, sitting on the blanket in front of where you and Steve sat snuggled up.

Dustin bit into the sandwich happily, “So what’s on the agenda for the rest of the day, gang?”

Steve groaned and pushed his sunglasses up his nose. You squeezed his hand as a silent sorry, but he just smiled at you.

“Dude, you’re killing me,” Steve said looking back at Dustin.

“Okay, so I can pick what we do next? Because no offense, this is kind of boring,” he said motioning to the lake.

Steve groaned again, and Dustin just sat there with his adorable, oblivious little smile.

Date #3: Just a walk downtown.

It was meant to be simple and sweet, Steve picked you up for lunch and after you both decided to take a walk on Main Street.

Hand in hand, you were telling Steve about all of your plans for the upcoming weekend, he was telling you about everything at work, and the latest update with his parents.

It was the most alone time you have had in a week, thanks to Dustin being at the Wheeler’s when he picked you up this morning.

Until Dustin leaped out from behind a bench shouting, “STEVEN HARVINGTON, UNHAND MY SISTER—oh. You’re just holding hands.”

You jumped in shock from the sudden jumpscare, grabbing onto Steve, who was equally as startled.

Steve groaned, “Seriously dude? How did you even know we were here?”

“I heard my dearest older sister on the phone with Nancy this morning while I was at Mike’s, telling her all about your little date. Now, come on, buy me ice cream and then I’m going to need a ride home because I ran here.” He motioned for you two to follow him.

“At least we were able to get some alone time in,” you said quietly to Steve as you looked ahead at Dustin leading the way.

Steve looked at you softly, “even when he is being like this, I’m just happy to be by your side,” you blushed a little but before you could respond Dustin turned around.

“Hello! My ice cream isn’t going to scoop itself!”

You both followed him, hand in hand to the ice cream shop.

By week three, Steve was a twitching mess.

He knocked on your window one night, an old habit he would bring back when your mom happened to be still awake. He crawled in dramatically and sighed of fake exhaustion.

“He’s everywhere,” Steve whispered intensely. “I can’t kiss you without checking for binocular glare. I think he bugged my car.”

“He didn’t bug your car, Steve.”

There was a long pause.

“…He asked for a soldering iron yesterday,” Steve said.

You winced. “Okay, he might’ve bugged your car.”

Steve sagged onto your bed, burying his face in your neck. “I’m going insane.”

You ran your fingers through his hair. “I’ll talk to him.”

You pulled yourself from Steve’s arms and left your room quietly, careful not to bring any attention to your mother sitting in front of the TV, you found Dustin in the kitchen, snacking like nothing was wrong.

You leaned against the counter. “Dust? You know I love you, right?”

“Obviously,” he said through a mouthful of crackers.

“And I know you’re just being… protective.”

“Superbly protective,” he corrected with a proud smile on his face.

“But Steve and I need time alone. Like… actual alone time.”

Dustin looked at you for a long second. His shoulders dropped.

“…Okay.” He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But you guys can’t do anything gross, and if he breaks your heart - ”

“I know, I know,” you said. “You will seek vengeance."

“BRUTAL vengeance,” Dustin clarified, putting his fist in the air.

You pulled him into a hug, and he hugged back, squeezing tighter than you expected.

Then he pointed toward your room. “Go. He’s probably being dramatic in there, knowing him.”

You ruffled his hair and made your way back to your bedroom.

When you returned to your room, Steve was dramatically face-down on your pillow.

You climbed beside him, nudging him.

“Good news,” you said. “Dustin is giving us privacy.”

Steve shot upright so fast his hair almost stayed behind. “Seriously? Like actual privacy? No binoculars? No jump scares? No commentary?”

You laughed. “A whole night. Just us.”

Steve grinned, grabbed your face, and kissed you breathless.

From the hallway, Dustin whisper yelled:

“DOORS STAY OPEN!”

Steve groaned. “Baby… I take it back. We’re never escaping him.”

You got up and locked the door, ignoring Dustin on the other side. You walked back over to your bed and straddled Steve. You lowered yourself so that you were face to face, “we just have to be quiet, can you do that?” You asked in a low voice.

Steve huffed out a breath, “I absolutely can do that,” he said before taking your face in his hands and pulling you into a deep kiss.

“EW!” Dustin whisper yelled from the door again. You and Steve pulled apart only to hear his footsteps running away and the slam of his bedroom door.

Being with Billy isn’t easy— he’s wanted by everyone, the hottest thing around and you’re just you. To everyone’s surprise you and billy had been together two years and those two years weren’t always fun, but you love him.

Things seemed to get better until two weeks ago — you were at his house and discovered a bra that didn’t belong to you. It wasn’t there before, because you had helped him clean his room.

“What is this?” You ask, holding the bra up by the strap on your finger.

“What’s what?” Billy asks, not paying attention and fiddling with his belt buckle.

He finally looks up to see the black, lacey bra and his skin goes pale.

“Who’s fucking bra is this?” You ask, voice getting shaky and heat filling your body.

Billy sighs, opening his cigarettes and placing one in the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t start.”

You scoff, mouth agape.

“Don’t start..”

“That’s all you can say to me, your girlfriend of two years?”

He lights his cigarette and walks over to you, yanking the bra from your finger.

You slide on your sneakers, tears falling onto the carpet. You start grabbing your stuff so that you can leave.

He sits back on the bed smoking his cigarette and trying to avoid looking at you.

“Stop crying.” He says curtly.

“You’re such a fucking asshole! Is it hers?” You shout, eyes red and pain in your voice.

Billy puts out his cigarette and doesn’t respond.

“Is it hers?!?” You ask again.

“Yeah, it’s hers. Now, stop fucking screaming.”

You grab the beer bottle off of his dresser and toss it at his head, glass shattering against the wall.

Billy stands up, walking over to you—visibly angry. He grabs your arms with a tight grip, staring into your eyes.

“I don’t want this anymore. I’ve tried showing you and telling you, but you just didn’t get the hint.”

You yank away, wiping your tears, and storm out of the room— slamming the door behind you.

That was a little over a month ago and you’ve been trying to get him out of your head ever since.

You didn’t go to school for a week because you were sick as a dog—fever, chills, nausea and fatigue. It was a rough week, but luckily you’ve bounced back.

You’re going back to school today, hoping that you didn’t miss out on too much. Steve picks you up, talking your ear off about Nancy and Jonathan being together. He swears that he doesn’t care, but it’s not even close to believable.

Steve’s car pulls up in the parking lot, barreling into a space— almost hitting another car.

“Christ, Steve!” You shout, pressing your imaginary break.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to go that fast.”

After the mini heart attack is over, you grab your bag and get out of the car. You start walking towards the school, leaving steve behind.

Robin runs up to you, smiling and waving.

“Hey, you. It’s nice to see you back here, I was worried something happened.”

You let out a dry chuckle.

“Something did happen, I got sick.”

Robin jokingly rolls her eyes and walks past you.

“I saw Billy—“

“Stop. I don’t want to hear about him and I don’t care.” You reply curtly, cutting Robin off mid sentence.

You start walking ahead of Robin and you’re instantly annoyed, you’ve told them multiple times since the breakup that you weren’t interested in hearing about Billy or his antics— but apparently they can’t help themselves.

“Nice one, Robin.” Steve mutters behind you, nudging Robin.

Robin throws her hands up in defeat, letting out a sigh.

“I was just trying to warn her, before she went inside.”

Steve stops in his tracks, mid chew of his granola bar.

“Warn her about what?”

You walk through the doors of the school, down the hallway and to your locker. The day has been normal so far, but there’s more people than usual in the hallway.

You brush it off opening your locker, grabbing your bottle of perfume to spray on. While you do that, your attention is grabbed by a bunch of commotion— it’s the jocks and cheerleaders coming down the hallway.

You see Billy in the group— laughing and smiling. His arm is around Chrissy and she seems happier than ever.

Your stomach flips like you were kicked in it.

How could he be so happy with her? Move on so fast like you didn’t matter? How could he do any of this?

Billy sees you and winks at you, making you frown.

You throw your perfume back in your locker and rush to class. You’re one of the first people in class, taking your seat in the back corner—hoping to stay away from him.

As time for the bell to ring inches closer, the rest of the class pours in and takes their seats. Right as the bell rings, Billy and Chrissy stroll in— Chrissy sitting in the front near her friends and He takes the seat next to you in the back.

You shift in your seat, trying to hide any emotion that might come to the surface.

To your surprise he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even acknowledge you.

The class continues and Billy glances over at you a few times— trying to see what you’re writing, your facial expressions, and just studying you instead of his own work.

After a while the bell rings for class to end— you grab your stuff and head to the door, trying to get out as fast as possible.

More classes happen, lunch passes and then the bell for the end of the day rings. All you can think about is seeing his arm around Chrissy, how easy it was for him to break your heart.

Today, you’re walking home— Steve has somewhere to be and you don’t mind a walk.

You go to the bathroom before heading out of the school, Chrissy and all of her friends are in there.

They giggle at the sight of you and whisper.

You pay them no mind and rush to get out of there.

“Sorry, you had to find out about me and Billy the way you did.” Chrissy giggles, standing near the sink.

You dry your hands and don’t respond, ultimately you don’t have much to say.

“It’s a shame really, Billy hadn’t ever been sexually satisfied until he met me.”

They snicker some more, but you push your anger aside and walk out of the bathroom without saying anything.

Billy is standing right next to the door waiting on Chrissy, you bump into him on your way out. He notices the look on your face and grabs your arm, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” You mutter, yanking away.

He stands there confused, but also coming to the realization that Chrissy must’ve said something to you.

He waits a little longer for them to come out, his hand on his hip.

Chrissy and her friends come strolling out of the bathroom after what feels like forever, Billy grabs Chrissy and pulls her to the side while the girls keep walking.

“Can you stop? Things are messy enough as is, I don’t need you messing with her and being rude.”

Chrissy stares at him in disbelief, pulling her arm away.

“Do you still care about her?”

Billy takes a deep breath and rubs his hand over his mouth.

“What are you talking about? Seriously, don’t start this shit.”

Her eyes start to water as she holds back tears, meanwhile Billy is very annoyed and couldn’t care less about her crying.

He grabs his keys out of his pocket, “are you ready to go?”

She adjusts the backpack on her shoulders and wipes a tear that was falling down her cheek, “are you going to answer my question?”

Billy lets out a chuckle, putting a cigarette in his mouth.

“Fuck this, ride home with the girls and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He walks away—boots stomping the ground, and keys twirling around his finger.

Chrissy walks out the other set of doors down the hall, trying to catch up with her friends

You’re almost home, your walk doesn’t normally take long— but today you’re taking your time. Enjoying the sun beaming on your skin, looking at leftover Christmas decorations and the pieces of ice that were still melting from the snow.

You get home and you’re home by yourself, your parents are still at work. Despite your loving relationship with them, you love the days when you’re at home alone.

Once inside the house—you kick your shoes off by the door and head upstairs to take a shower.

You turn the water on to the shower, stepping in and just standing there for a minute as the water falls down your body.

Unfortunately, even though showering is supposed to be your moment of peace— all you can think about is Billy with Chrissy. What does she have that you don’t? Does she make him happy the way you once did?

After a while in the shower and just wasting water, you get out and dry yourself off. You throw on one of Billy’s t-shirts and pull the covers back on your bed to lay down, but the doorbell rings.

You hesitate, not knowing who it could be and also not caring— but the person starts knocking at the door. You run downstairs, opening the door to see who’s there and it’s Billy.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You ask with a scowl on your face.

Billy glances you over, making note of you having his shirt on.

“Has Chrissy been bothering you—“

“No.” You reply curtly with no hesitation.

“You don’t have to lie to me, doll. I just want to hear it from you.”

You roll your eyes and let out a sigh.

“Billy, I’m fine. So, if you came over here for that then you wasted your time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle.

“You’ve never been a good liar.”

His remark makes your body feel warm. He knows you like the back of his hand and despite how much you love him, you hate it.

“Look, I’m fine and there’s nothing to worry about. I stay out of your way and hers. It wouldn’t matter anyway even if she was, because you’d never leave her for it.”

Billy pauses for a second, puts his hands in his pockets and gives you a quick nod before turning away—walking back to his car. You watch him, but quickly shut the door before he sees you staring.

You’re not really sure what to make of the interaction with him, that’s the most you two have said to each other since the breakup. It was definitely a surprise to see him on your front steps asking about how Chrissy treats you.

You make your way back upstairs and lay in your bed, before you can even think more on what just happened— the phone on your nightstand is ringing.

You pick it up thinking it’s your parents calling to tell you something.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Steve.”

“Oh, hey.”

In your mind you can’t help but laugh, something must be in the air because Steve almost never calls you. Today is the day of firsts.

“Sorry, I couldn’t bring you home today— I’ll be able to tomorrow though.”

“It’s really no problem, Steve— like I told you yesterday.”

“Well, Uh—how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine—“

“Steve, is everything okay? You practically never call and small talk doesn’t suit you.” You ask with an awkward chuckle.

The line is silent for a bit, almost like he’s struggling with what he wants to say next.

“Okay, you got me. I just called to see how you were doing with the whole Billy situation. Especially since he and Chrissy are fully public.”

You twirl the cord around your finger and stare at the ceiling.

“I’m fine, really. I stay away from them and don’t care about what they’re doing.”

Saying that out loud seems fine on paper, but it isn’t true— so far from true.

In reality you still cry yourself to sleep over it some nights, but you’re not going to tell him that.

“You know that you can always talk to me? Or anyone in the group, right?”

You sigh, sitting up on your bed.

“Yes, I know that I can Steve— but I’m fine and I’d prefer you guys not to bring him up every fifteen seconds and treat me like a fragile baby.”

Steve coughs into the phone, trying to play off his slight embarrassment.

“Yeah, no totally— I get it…”

“I have to go, but I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“Okay, see you tomorrow. Please don’t make us late again, Steve:”

“I won’t.”

The line disconnects and you place the phone back on the receiver— laying back down on the bed.

Billy drives home in complete silence, his thoughts swarming his mind. His breakup with you wasn’t his finest moment and maybe some part of him regrets it, but he does care for Chrissy.

His thoughts of you stop when he sees Chrissy’s car in the driveway.

“What the hell is she doing here?” He mumbles to himself as he parks his car.

He takes a deep breath as gets out of the car and walks to the front door. He walks in to see Chrissy helping Max.

“I promise once you get the hang of Algebra you’ll be able to pass any math class.” Chrissy points out.

They both look up from the homework and at Billy when he walks in.

“What’s this? Why are you here?” He asks, pointing at both of them—but mainly Chrissy.

“Umm.. I’m helping max with her algebra.”

Billy raises his brow and sets his keys on the table before walking back to his room.

He gets into his room and shuts the door. He starts to undress and change into a tank top with basketball shorts.

Chrissy knocks on the door and comes in.

“Hey, babe.”

“You can’t be here much longer, not sure when Neil will be back and the last thing I want to hear is his mouth.”

Chrissy listens, but doesn’t respond— she’s too busy staring at everything in Billy’s room.

She walks up to Billy and kisses him, catching him off guard. It takes him a second to process, but he kisses her back— his hand wrapped around her waist.

Before they get too caught up in the kissing, Max walks in.

“Billy—“

“Fucking knock next time, Max!”

Max rolls her eyes.

“We’ll be home alone tonight, they just called and said that they’d be back in the morning.”

Billy and Chrissy quickly glance at each other, before Billy makes a shooing motion at max.

Max slams the door behind her.

“Asshole.”

Chrissy’s hands trail Billy's chest and she bites her lip.

“No parents, means I could stay the night—“

“If you want me to, of course.”

Billy slides his hands down and grips her ass.

“If you want to, it doesn't matter to me.”

They start kissing again, even heavier this time. Billy picks Chrissy up and lays her on the bed as he’s in between her legs.

His kisses trailing her face and neck, making a slow descent.

“You make me so fucking weak.” He groans in between kisses.

She runs her fingers through his hair, wrapping her legs around his waist.

He lifts up her top, exposing her lacy blue bra— giving her breasts a squeeze before continuing down her body.

She grabs his shirt and pulls him up towards her, bringing his face to hers.

“I don’t want to wait.”

He grins, his bulge in his shorts rubbing against her crotch.

“So needy for me.”

He pulls her skirt up, just enough to see her matching blue panties. Chrissy’s already soaked through her panties for him. He runs his finger down the wet spot in the middle, teasing her.

She leans up—helping pull his shorts and boxers down.

His cock is rock hard, veins vibrant and his tip is flushed red with precum dripping.

Pulling her panties to the side, he rubs his head through her folds— causing her to let out a whimper and arch her back.

He lines himself up, ready to push himself in.

“Wait!” Chrissy shouts, putting her hand against Billy’s chest.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“Billy.. we don’t have a condom.”

“We should be fine, we’ve basically never used one.” He points out.

“Yeah.. yeah, you’re right.”

Billy adjusts again, kissing her and lining himself up. He’s about to push himself in, but he stops.

“You know what, turn around for me.”

Chrissy is a bit confused at first, but she gets up and gets on all fours.

Billy pushes her skirt up further and pulls her panties down, wasting no time—he lines himself up and pushes the head in.

Throwing his head back in bliss and Chrissy’s hands gripping the sheets.

Despite him having the view that most guys at school would kill to see, he wasn’t enjoying it as much as he wants to.

The memories of you ravage his mind, making it impossible for him to even look Chrissy in the eyes during sex.

You’re at home— tossing and turning in the bed, hoping for some form of peace. Despite the house being quiet, your mind hasn’t stopped racing. It’s almost like your own form of torture, constantly thinking about the man who wronged you.

The thought comes across your mind to call Robin to get your mind off of things.

You pick up the phone, dialing her number— but it rings and rings, with no answer.

Your parents still aren’t home yet and you don’t really care to be awake and talk to them when they do get home. You go into your bathroom and take two sleep aid pills, chugging water behind them.

You get back into the bed, wrapping yourself in the covers and dozing off.

The alarm starts going off, it’s 7am. You slept the entire rest of the afternoon and all throughout the night.

You rush out of bed— taking a quick shower, throwing on a band tee and sweats, eating two muffins, and waiting by the door for Steve.

Steve’s car pulls into the driveway at 7:40, same time as it does everyday.

You lock up the house and walk to his car, opening the door and throwing your backpack in.

“I see it’s a sweats kind of day.” Steve points out, fingers tracing the steering wheel.

“It definitely is.” You reply.

The drive to school is quiet, you’re not saying much and neither is Steve. You just stare out of the window as the sun brightens and watch the trees disappear in the distance.

“Any plans for the weekend?” Steve asks, breaking the silence.

You snap out of your daydreaming.

“No, I’m just going to be at home.”

Steve scoffs.

“Oh, come on.”

“What?”

“I mean, are you seriously just going to let this billy situation ruin the year for you?”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore what he just said.

Silence fills the car again, not because you don’t have anything to say— you’re just done with the conversation.

“I’m only saying it as a friend, that’s all. We know that you care about him, but anyone who would cheat on you and then sleep with your bully isn’t worth it.” Steve points out.

“She’s not my fucking bully. She just happens to be Billy’s girlfriend, that’s all. I get that you guys care, but I’m sick of everyone acting like I can’t be fucking sad.”

Steve pulls into the school parking lot and parks his car.

“I’m not saying that—“

In the middle of him talking you take off your seatbelt, grab your backpack, and open the door to get out.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll walk home today.” You reply, shutting the car door.

Steve lets out a sigh and rests his head against the steering wheel in defeat, that conversation went poorly and he knows that he just pissed you off.

Before you walk into the school, you walk over to the grass behind the student parking lot. Your stomach is in knots and the urge to throw up is rising to the top.

You place your hand against the light pole beside you for balance and bend over, everything you ate spilling out.

It just keeps coming and coming, feeling never ending.

Finally a few minutes later, you raise up and take a deep breath—wiping your mouth. You’re not even sure why you’re throwing up, but you’re already ready to go home.

The bell rings right as you walk into the classroom—today, you’re the only one walking in at the last minute.

You take your seat and pull out your book for class, but you’re struggling. You now feel like death warmed up and the feeling like you’re going to throw up again is gnawing at you.

Billy glances over at you and he can tell that something is wrong.

“Are you okay?”

You just wave him off, too sick to speak.

All you can think of is getting home to rest and wanting to feel better.

The bell rings and everyone rushes out. Billy sticks around, trying to see if you’re okay—but Chrissy comes over distracting him.

“Babe, let’s go.” Chrissy grins, grabbing his arm.

“I’m waiting to see if she needs help.” He points out.

Chrissy frowns.

“Why would it matter if she did? You’re not her boyfriend.”

You slowly get up from the desk and grab your backpack, walking to the door.

“Babe, come on!”

Billy’s eyes follow you all the way from your seat to the door, he sees how badly you’re struggling.

He pulls his arm away from Chrissy and walks over to you, placing his arm around your lower back.

“I’m going to take you home.”

“I’m fine.” You groan, not even caring that Billy is touching you.

“No, you’re not.”

Chrissy stands in the classroom in disbelief, Billy really left her side to help you. She fights back tears as she heads to her new class.

He helps you down the hallway and to the parking lot of his car, helping you get in and buckling you up.

He starts driving you to your house, playing some Def Leopard to keep things from being awkward— like, you even cared at this point.

You stare out of the window, feeling like you’re going to throw up again.

“Billy.. I need to throw up.” You mumble.

He looks over at you, panic written all over his face.

“Not in the car, baby. I’m almost at your house.”

He races to get you home, praying that you don’t throw up in his car.

“Billy..”

“I know, baby. I’m pulling in the driveway now.”

He pulls into your driveway, puts the car in park and rushes out of the car to your side—opening the door.

As soon as he opens the door, you throw up on the ground— just barely missing his boots.

“Come on, let me help you in.” He grunts, picking you up. He closes the car door with his foot. You hand him your keys to unlock the door.

Billy gets you inside and carries you up the stairs like you weigh nothing.

He sits you down on the bed, staring at your room like it’s his first time being in there.

“I feel fucking awful.” You groan.

“I can tell. What happened?”

You shrug your shoulders and start undressing, Billy turns his head.

“Well, I’m going to head back to school.”

“Can you stay?” You mumble, throwing your shirt on the ground.

Billy turns around with a shocked look on his face, “you want me to stay?”

“I would like that, but I don’t want to cause problems between you and Chrissy.”

He walks over to help you up.

“Chrissy will be fine.”

You walk to the bathroom, “I’m gonna take a bath.”

He takes his shoes off and leaves them by your door, walking over to your bed as you run your bath water.

Your room is the last place he thought he’d be on a Friday morning, but here he is.

“You can come in here, if you want—I’m in the water.” You shout from the bathroom.

Billy comes in, sees you submerged in bubbles. He leans against the bathroom counter, staring at you as you soak.

“Why’d you stay?” You ask weakly, eyes closed and trying to ease the nausea.

“You asked.”

“If only it were that simple, it never is with you.” You reply.

“It is, I still love you.” He admits, biting his lip.

“I bet you do.” You smirk, slowly dragging the washcloth across your body.

“I do and you know it.”

“Well, then leave Chrissy.”

He gets silent, just stares at you. The silence lasts until you’re finished washing yourself.

You stand up, the water falling off of you and step onto your black rug— wrapping a burgundy towel around your body. You lean over into the tub, pulling the stopper so the water can drain and walk back into your room— Billy following behind you.

He still hasn’t said anything since you asked him to leave Chrissy.

“I appreciate you helping me, I really do— but I’m going to lay down and I don’t want to keep you here or upset Chrissy.”

You drop your towel and throw on an oversized t-shirt.

Billy lets out a sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t want to go.”

You sit on the bed, confused and trying to understand the situation.

“I can’t do this with you, Billy. I deserve better.”

“You do—“

“But I love you and I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t.”

You look up at him as he inches closer to you.

“Billy.. just go. I can’t do the back and forth with you.”

He stands in front of you, towering over you with a gentle look.

“Are you really gonna make me beg?”

“The shit with Chrissy is a mistake and I’ll be the first to admit it. I don’t know why I did it, but I want you. You bring a light to my life that I hadn’t seen in years— you are everything to me.”

Your eyes start to water hearing Billy’s words, it’s like the Billy you met two years ago.

He sits on the bed beside you, pulling you closer to him.

You sit there, laying your head on his shoulder and taking in his scent— a feeling that you have craved for weeks.

You stand up, signaling for him to stand up and you climb into the bed and under the covers. Billy joins you after stripping out of his shirt and down to his boxers.

You lay your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and your finger tracing his abs.

“I’ll end things with Chrissy tonight.” Billy reassures you and places a kiss on your forehead.

“We’ll see about that.” You joke.

You start drifting off and fall asleep against his chest, feeling right at home.

You wake up and it’s dark out, your lamp is on with no sign of Billy. His shoes and clothes are gone, but there’s a note on the nightstand.

“Had to get home before Neil flips, love you—B”

A smile tugs at your lips as you sit the note back down.

You turn the light off and head back to bed.

You wake up to your room being dark still— it’s raining and thundering this morning. You love the rain and the cozy feeling that comes with it.

Somehow, you’d managed to sleep in— it’s 11am. You don’t have any plans today, just wondering when you’ll hear from Billy.

Instead of laying in the bed all day, you decide to be productive— you take a hot shower, change your bedding, vacuum, make muffins and finally light a candle to finish things off. You have more energy now that you don’t feel like shit.

The rain has picked up, so you go over to the window seat with your book and sit down to read. Reading is one of your favorite pastimes and this book was one that Steve got you a few months ago, you just never had time to read it.

Hours pass by and no word from Billy, which is shocking considering how he was just yesterday. Your mind races wondering what’s going on, but you know that he wouldn’t lie to like that— you just decide to wait.

Nighttime comes and still no word, you go over to your phone and dial his number.

It rings and rings, finally someone picks up.

“Hello?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Max, is Billy there?”

“Um, no. He left a few hours ago and he didn’t say where he was going.”

“Okay, I was just worried.”

“Mhmm.”

The line disconnects.

You try to push your thoughts aside and just continue reading. You haven’t heard anything from Billy and it’s been over twenty four hours. You just relax and go to bed thinking that you’ll hear from him tomorrow.

Sunday rolls around and still nothing. Not a call, voicemail or anything— just silence.

Maybe, Billy did lie to you and had no intention of leaving Chrissy. Your heart is broken all over again, crying over something that would never work.

You don’t do anything, but lay in bed— unable to take your mind off of him.

The weekend is over and Monday morning has rolled around.

You pull yourself out of bed, right as your alarm is going off. Feeling nauseous once again, a fantastic way to start the day.

You take a quick shower, brush your teeth, and put on a t-shirt with some black sweats.

Steve honks the horn twice, letting you know that he’s outside.

You rush outside and get into the car with a very chipper Steve who’s going on a rant about nothing.

“Billy came over Friday and we talked..” you blurt out.

Steve gets quiet, turns down the radio, and tries to process what you said.

“Oh? How did that go?”

“It was fine, surprisingly. He apologized and told me that he loved me— that he wanted to end things with Chrissy.”

Steve’s jaw drops.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that. I mean, is that what you want?”

You shrug your shoulders, looking down and fidgeting with the strings of your sweatpants.

“I do, but I don’t want to get hurt again.”

Steve nods his head, turning on his signal to turn at the stoplight.

“That’s fair, no one wants to get hurt.”

“How did the rest of the weekend go?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes.

“He left Friday afternoon, said that he’d break things off with Chrissy and I haven’t heard from him since.”

Steve’s eyes widen and you can hear him holding his breath.

“That could mean anything though? Maybe.. maybe he’s been busy.”

The car pulls into a parking space and your eyes scan the parking lot for Billy’s Camaro, but no sign of it.

“Yeah, it could mean anything.” You reply with zero confidence.

You get out of the car, leaving Steve behind and walking into the school.

A quick stop at your locker to grab your notebook and then you walk straight to class. You’re the first person inside the classroom, but soon after everyone runs in before the bell rings.

Chrissy’s seat is empty, so is Billy’s.

The bell rings and class begins, you can’t focus on what’s being said— because now you’re truly starting to worry. There’s no way Neil would just let Billy miss school.

20 minutes into class, Billy and Chrissy waltz in.

Your stomach drops and you can’t hide the disappointed look on your face.

“Mr. Hargrove and Mrs.Cunningham, do you have late slips?” Mr. Thorton strongly asks.

Billy hands both of them to him as they make their way to their seats.

You can’t help but notice that Billy looks tired, he doesn’t look like himself. Even though you can’t help but wonder why he didn’t talk to you all weekend, your heart is broken seeing him walk in with her.

He sits down in his chair beside you, but he’s nervous— biting his nails.

“Can I talk to you after class?” He leans over and whispers.

You refuse to even make eye contact with him.

“Please, I want to talk to you.”

You chuckle, surprised at his audacity.

Class continues on for another twenty minutes and then the bell rings.

You rush out of the classroom before Billy can stop you and make your way outside to the parking lot. The wind picks up as you as you walk through the parked cars.

The sound of boots hitting gravel creeps up on you.

“Please, stop so we can talk.” He pleads.

You turn around, annoyed with whatever excuse he’s going to give you.

“What do you want, Billy? I haven’t heard anything from you all weekend.”

He takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing for impact.

“I know and I’m sorry, I got busy and there was a lot going on.”

You cross your arms in front of you, “must’ve been busy with Chrissy.”

“Did you break up with her?”

“No.” He replies curtly.

“Wow, at least I know how you really feel.”

You walk away, your blood boiling.

“I tried to break up with her, but I can’t..”

“She’s pregnant.”

You stop dead in your tracks, tears falling down your face out of pure shock.

“What? What did you say?”

You turn around to face him, tears still falling down your cheeks and your fists clenched.

“We weren’t safe and she got pregnant.. I’m so sorry that this happened.”

“You fucking asshole! I can’t believe you.. I just can’t.” You sob.

It’s almost like the air has been torn from your lungs, this was the last thing you expected.

He walks closer to you, trying to console you— but you keep walking backwards with your hands up in defeat.

“Please.. don’t come near me.”

“How could you?” You cry, the words barely escaping due to your heavy breathing and sobs.

“I wasn’t thinking, I—“

“I never wanted this to be the case, you’ve gotta understand that. I love you so much.”

“I hate you.” you mutter.

“You don’t mean that.”

He rubs his hand over his face and lets out a sigh.

“There’s something else… Neil—“

“Neil is making us get married.”

His words hung in the air like you’d heard a gunshot. A baby and getting married? This can’t be real life.

You’re speechless, genuinely speechless for the first time in your life. The boy you’ve loved for over two years, has completely flipped your world upside down.

You start walking away, trying to gather your thoughts and breathe— leaving Billy by himself in the parking lot.

“Please, say something.. please.” He pleads.

You keep walking as if you didn’t hear him.

The walk home is pretty quick compared to how long it normally takes. You’re so trapped in your own thoughts that you don’t even remember much of the walk— just that you somehow got home.

You get inside, rushing upstairs to your room.

This room feels too small to contain your thoughts and anger— you knock everything off of your desk on the ground, letting out a scream.

You curl into a ball on your bed and you just cry, that’s all you can do.

The time escapes your mind, you’ve laid on the bed for several hours before you even realize it. You force yourself to get up and go downstairs to grab something to eat.

Your mom stands at the kitchen counter reading the newspaper, your step-dad sitting in his recliner.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom asks after noticing your red eyes.

“I’m.. okay.” You mumble, barely able to let those words leave your mouth.

She puts down the newspaper, pushes her glasses up on the bridge of her nose and walks over to you.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been crying.”

You glance at her through the tears, “Billy got Chrissy pregnant.”

She sighs, walks over to you and pulls you into a tight hug.

“Oh, sweet girl. Don’t cry over him—“

“I know it hurts right now, but the sting won’t last forever.”

Your tears wet her shirt, but she just stands there— holding you and letting you cry.

Friday rolls around and you’re missing school for your doctor's appointment. You have to get some labs done to get on the pill again, just something routine.

You hate going to the doctor— it’s always so sterile, grim, and scary.

You sit in the waiting room— watching the tv on the wall, when your name is called.

You walk back to the room and the nurse asks you the standard questions.

“How old are you?”

“18.”

“Sexually active?”

“Yes.”

“Will you need a std panel?”

“No.. I should be fine.”

“Date of your last period?”

The question hit you like a truck, when was your last period? It’s always on time— yet, somehow you can’t remember if you’ve had one since December.

“Uh.. uh, I don’t remember.” You mutter.

“Okay, that’s fine. We’ll give you a pregnancy test here.” The nurse smiles.

Your heart sank to your stomach— could you actually be pregnant? I mean, it would explain the nausea, tiredness, fatigue, and sore boobs. You haven’t even gained weight, you’ve been losing it— but you just figured it was stress.

The nurse comes back to you with the cup and directs you to the bathroom.

You get in the bathroom and have to force yourself to take deep breaths, the cup shaking in your hand. You squat over the cup and pee, filling it to the line. The nurse is waiting outside the door with gloves on, ready to take the cup.

“Your results will be back in 10-15 minutes.”

You go back into the room, unable to sit still on the table and biting your nails.

The ten minutes feels like an eternity, before she knocks at the door again. She looks over her clipboard and fills a few things out on the paper, before addressing you.

“Congratulations, looks like you’re going to be a mom. You’re farther along than we expected, seems like you’re about 12 weeks. We will do a panel to be sure.”

Your blood ran ice cold and everything after congratulations sounded muffled.

You’re pregnant by Billy, the same Billy who’s expecting a baby with Chrissy and is getting married tomorrow.

“Sweetie, are you okay?” She asks, grabbing your arm and bringing you out of your daze.

“Uh huh, I’m fine.”

“I just wanted to check. Since you’re farther along, you can see your baby today— would you like to?”

You’re still grappling with the news, but you nod.

She has you lay back on the table and brings the machine over to you. You raise your shirt, waiting on the cold jelly.

She moves the Doppler on your belly and you can hear the baby’s heartbeat.

“It’s strong and healthy.” The nurse acknowledges.

You couldn’t make out exactly what the baby looked like on the screen, the image is grainy— but you still can’t believe this.

The appointment wraps up and you’re given all the information you need about pregnancy, the baby, and upcoming appointments.

Your mom drives you home — asking you about school, but that’s the last thing you can focus on. You try to keep the conversation going, but she realizes you’re not in the mood and drops it.

You get home and into your room with the papers— you pace around your room, thinking about all of the options.

An abortion would solve everything, but would you really want to do that? Can Billy handle two babies at once? Plus, Chrissy would be your baby's step-mom. What about college? How would you handle that with a newborn? All of the questions flooding your mind starts to make you sick, you go lay in your bed to relax.

You wake up to the doorbell ringing and the pouring rain. Considering whoever’s at the door has rang the door bell multiple times, you must be at home alone.

You rush down the stairs and open the door— to your surprise, it’s Billy.

“Can I please talk to you? I need to.”

You let him in and can’t help the confused look on your face.

Instead of standing in the dark downstairs, you head back up to your room and Billy slips his shoes off— following you.

You walk into your room, standing near your bed and your arms wrapped around your stomach.

“What is that you want, Billy? You’re getting married tomorrow.”

“Tell me not to.” Billy asks.

You pause, unsure of what to even say.

“What?”

Billy walks closer, grabbing your hand.

“Tell me not to. You have the power to stop this whole thing, tell me I’m making a mistake.”

You laugh at him, confusing him.

“I don’t have the power to do anything. You’re getting married to the woman that’s carrying your child.”

He runs his fingers through his hair.

“Damn it, I’m being serious. I love you and I don’t want to do this. If you tell me not to, I’ll call it off.”

You stand there and you’re not sure whether to cry or tell him to call it off. Despite the circumstances, you’re still in love with him— but so angry that he put you in this situation.

“Don’t call it off, marry her.” You spit out.

“Are you serious?

“Dead serious, Billy. This isn’t my situation to get you out of, you wanted her and now you got her.”

“Fuck it.” Billy mumbles.

Billy walks over to you and pulls your face to his in a passionate kiss. Even though your mind was screaming at you to stop, you kiss him back— knowing that this will be the last.

His kisses trail down your face and onto your neck, he licks around your neck like he owns it.

You whimper in his ear as you both fall back onto the bed. You grab his belt buckle undoing it, as he simultaneously pulls your pants down.

He’s rock hard in his boxers, a precum wet spot very visible.

“My parents could be home at any moment.” You struggle to say as he pulls your panties off and sucks on your neck.

“I can be quick.” He groans, sliding his boxers off.

He kisses you, his tongue gliding along yours.

“This is wrong.”

“Then I don’t want to be right. I’m in love with you.” He mumbles.

You start kissing him again, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He lines himself up and pushes in.

“Shit, Billy.” You gasp.

He thrusts slowly in and out of you, allowing you to stretch around him.

“You’re so damn tight, doll.”

You missed the feeling of him inside you, his head dragging along your g-spot.

His fingers grip your hips so hard that he’ll leave a mark.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He moans.

“Yes, Billy just like that.”

Your eyes roll back in your head at the pleasure. It’s been a while since you’ve had sex with him— you almost forgot how good he is at it.

“I love you.” He mutters in your ear.

A tear falls out of your eye and onto the bed, “I love you too.”

You feel yourself getting closer to orgasm, so close you can feel it.

“Shit, baby. I’m gonna cum.” He moans.

“Fuck me.” You whimper.

His hips slam against your ass, bringing him even closer to release.

You pull him into a kiss, moaning into his mouth as you cum for him. His load filling you as he keeps thrusting.

You both stay there for a moment, reeling from the orgasm and the realization about what you just did hitting you.

Billy pulls out and starts grabbing his things, you get off the bed and go into the bathroom.

Sitting on the toilet you feel so many emotions— it could be the pregnancy or it could be the fact that this would never work.

You hear your bedroom door shut, Billy left.

He didn’t even wait around to talk more, just as confusing as you expected things to be.

You clean up and go get back in the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

The storm had stopped by the morning and the sun was out, it wasn’t warm outside due to it being winter— but still pretty.

Billy is getting married today, married to a pregnant Chrissy— who has no idea. No idea that you’re pregnant and even farther along than her, no idea that you had sex with Billy last night.

This is too much and not what you wanted.

You work up the courage to go downstairs and talk to your mom. You work through the panic and tears, telling her everything.

After how last night went and you thinking hard on it,  you tell her that you want to go live with your dad now. It’s way  earlier than expected, but it what you feel is best. You’ll finish the school year there and have the baby there.

After a long and grueling conversation with numerous questions, she agrees

You’ve packed up all of your things, said your goodbyes and now you’re on your way to San Diego, California.

This is not at all what you expected for your senior year, but here we are. You haven’t seen Billy or heard from him since the night before his wedding two weeks ago— he still has no idea that you’re pregnant.

You’re still deciding on when you’ll tell him or if you’ll tell him, because then everything will change and who knows what that will look like.

You sit at the gate waiting for your flight to board, staring at people who walk by. You still don’t know how to feel about leaving Hawkins, but hopefully California treats you well.

“Now boarding flight 8272, heading to San Diego.” The flight attendant calls out over the intercom.

Your hand rubs over your sweater, feeling your baby bump.

“That’s us, it’s just you and me. We’re off for a fresh start.”

You get in line and wait to board your flight, staring out the window and seeing planes take off in the distance.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

reblogs and comments are appreciated.

You and Eddie were only friends, but the more time you spent together, the more that line between friends and something else seemed to blur. Except every time it started to get too real, Eddie chickened out. He deflected. And he'd do it by way of making sexual jokes.

At first, it excited you, the knowing that he thought of you that way from consistent comments that always had your other friends groaning in exasperation. You'd even heard Steve mutter a "just fuck her already, man," to Eddie, which Eddie responded to with a swift smack in his friend's chest.

But now? Now it frustrated you. You were growing tired of the constant comments and no action. You were tired of having to take care of yourself with your vibrator when you could have him between your thighs. You couldn't take it much longer.

Eddie had invited you back to his trailer tonight after the dinner, and you saw this as your opportunity. He'd never had the balls to ask just you over, so you immediately agreed, hopeful that tonight would be the night.

The tension in the air now was so thick as he passed you the beer that you may as well have suffocated on it. His fingers juuust grazed yours as he handed you the bottle, and you were about to crawl out of your skin from the desperate want that needed to be freed. You needed more. You were tired of dancing around one another. You just needed him to make his move.

Eddie cleared his throat, watching you take a swig of your beer. You knew he was staring at your mouth, admiring the way your lips wrapped around the rim. The way they pursed as you pulled the bottle away, a stray droplet of the liquid gathering at the corner of your mouth. The way you swallowed, the action moving his attention towards your bare neck.

Your heart was pounding. "What?"

He blinked, as if out of a trance. He begrudgingly moved his eyes upwards to yours. "What."

For Christ's sake, Eddie, make a move, you screamed in your head. "You're staring."

His expression began to change until he settled into one of his easy, flirtatious grins. "Ohhh, I was just thinkin'."

"About...?"

He put his beer down on the counter and crossed his arms. "How good your lips would look wrapped around something else."

Alright. That's it.

You huffed, walking over to set your beer down next to his before stepping into his personal space. He backed up a step on instinct, his back hitting the wall as his eyes widened in surprise.

"What are you--"

"Do you mean that, Eddie?" you asked. You were done. Done playing the games, done pretending like he wasn't completely serious about wanting you. You were no longer waiting for him to make a move--you were demanding it. And making one yourself.

Eddie looked like his brain was malfunctioning. He blinked several times as he looked down at you. You were so close, your nose almost brushing his. "Wh-uh, mean what?"

You placed your hands on his lower abdomen and smirked at the way his eyes fluttered before focusing in on you. And then you slid your hands lower, until your fingers gripped his belt and pulled him closer. "Do you really think my lips would look good...wrapped around something else?"

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed harshly. "Uh. Yeah--yeah I mean..." His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head now that you were unbuckling his belt, sliding it through the loops with ease before tossing it onto the floor. He trailed off, mouth hanging open, unable to form a single coherent thought at what was happening.

Your fingers worked on the button of his jeans before moving to the zipper, sliding it down devastatingly slow. You batted your lashes at him, giving him the biggest doe eyes you could muster as you bit your lip. "I could show you what it looks like, Eddie."

Eddie's chest began to heave with anticipation, adrenaline coursing through his body at your words. There's no way, no way that you could be serious, that you could really want him. Like this. Right now. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, desperate to touch you but too terrified to commit to it. "I..."

Your hand snuck past his pants, cupping him through his boxers. Your eyes fell shut at the feel of him, the weight of him hardening in your hand. You'd dreamt about this moment so many times.

Eddie's head fell back against the wall with a thud, his eyes screwed shut tightly. He was damn near panting and you'd barely touched him. "Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath.

"It's just...you always talk so much, and there's never any action," you continued, your hand squeezing him briefly before you began stroking him through the cloth barrier. You leaned in closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your lips barely touching. "And I'm tired of waiting."

Eddie couldn't even get a word out before you pulled away and lowered yourself onto your knees before him, your hands yanking his jeans down, his boxers in tow. He forced himself to lift his head off the wall so he could see you, because he was certain this was a dream, and he was about to wake up and have to jerk off to the thought of it. Because there's no way this was really happening. His eyes were wide and laser focused at the sight of you kneeling before him, his teeth biting into his plush bottom lip. He wanted to speak, needed to say something, anything!, but he was speechless.

And he was fucking beautiful, exactly the way you always pictured. Standing at attention against his abdomen, he was the perfect size, his pink tip leaking freely. Desire hit your lower belly like a truck--you'd thought about this probably as often as he did, and the anticipation had you nearly squirming. No more hesitation; you leaned in and showed him exactly what you'd both been dreaming about.

The moment your lips wrapped around his tip, Eddie let out the most pathetic, needy whimper you'd ever heard, the sound hitting you right in your cunt. "Oh my god," he groaned, eyes rolling in the back of his head. His hands remained clenched into fists at his side as you sucked sweetly on his sensitive tip, his hips twitching in an effort not to buck forward.

The racing of your heart was pounding into your eardrums, your cunt on fire with need. "Touch me," you breathed against him, pulling away to look up at him. If he didn't put his hands on you right goddamn now you felt as though you could die. "Please fucking touch me."

"Jesus," he exhaled, features softening but eyes wild with desire. His hands moved to card his fingers softly through your hair, gathering it up in the back as a makeshift ponytail. One hand held onto your hair as the other slid down your scalp, the side of your head, to rest against your cheek. You nuzzled into him on instinct, your hand still holding his rigid cock. "Can't fuckin' believe this is happening."

You began stroking him again, achingly slow, just to draw this moment out a little longer, your eyes locked onto his.

"You're so gorgeous," he mumbled, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth at your movements. "You have no idea...how long I've wanted this."

You leaned in again, the tip of your nose gently sliding up the length of his cock, a smirk forming on your lips at the shaky, stuttering gasp that escaped him. And then you replaced your nose with your tongue, licking a broad stripe up the length of him before wrapping your mouth completely around him. Your tongue flatted against the base as you took him all the way in, his tip reaching past the back of your throat.

"Oh--oh my god," you hear him groan above you, his fingers tightening in your hair.

The moment you began bobbing your head up and down on him, something in him snapped, like the floodgates opened, and he couldn't stop talking. Confessing.

"Fuck, yeah, honey, just like that," he chanted, hips bucking forward and sending him deeper into your throat. "So fucking gorgeous, look at you. Can't believe we didn't do this sooner, wanted you since the moment I saw you." You tried to focus on what he was saying as you fought your gag reflex, tears pooling in your eyes. "C'mon, baby. Look at me, angel." You obeyed, blinking tears away and looking up at him as you choked on it.

Eddie swore he had died and went to heaven.

"Takin' it so well, you were made for this, weren't you?" You groaned in response, your wetness painting your thighs at his words of encouragement, at the way his grip on you was borderline painful. "God, I could've been fuckin' this mouth for months if I hadn't been such a pussy." You whined around him, jaw beginning to get sore in the most delicious way. Eddie grinned like a cheshire cat. "Yeah you'd like that, wouldn't you? Wanna be mine so you can choke on it every day?"

Yes yes yes.

Unable to voice a response, you lifted the hand that wasn't gripping his thigh and cupped his balls, the movement causing him to twitch in your mouth.

"G-god," he choked out, eyes glazing over as his head hit the wall once more. "I'm gonna come soon if you keep doin' that," he warned.

So you continued, never missing a beat in the rhythm you'd set up with your mouth and your hand, your fingers gently squeezing him as you worked your jaw to open wider for him.

Eddie whined, hand almost yanking your hair at your ministrations. "You want me to come in your mouth, sweetheart? That what you want?"

You groaned around him, and the vibrations from it were his undoing. He choked out a quiet Jesus Christ and a moan of your name as his hips stuttered, painting the back of your throat white. You greedily swallowed everything he gave you, fingers and mouth never ceasing until he finally came down.

"Holy fucking shit, sweetheart," he panted, gently pulling you off of him. Eddie looked straight up in love as he took in the sight of you--you, still on your knees and wiping your mouth with a lazy grin, dried tears and mascara smeared down your cheeks.

You stood up wordlessly and stepped closer to him again, taking his face in your hands. He immediately wasted no time and leaned in, finally kissing you, groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue. "You're a fuckin' angel, you know that?" he mumbled in between kisses, his hands wrapping around you and squeezing your ass.

Your cheeks burned crimson at his compliments. "Maybe."

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. "I'm sorry I've been such a coward till now. I never thought you could actually...want me like that."

You smiled, fingers toying with his curls as your arms wrapped lazily around his shoulders. "'s okay. I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me."

Eddie quirked a brow at you, a wicked grin slowly spreading across his face.

The first days of anything new always suck. But the first day of school during your senior year in a small town where everybody seems to know everyone and everything? That shit blows. 

So, naturally, when you walk into your first-period English class, you keep your eyes down and your appearance small. You kept your focus on the rows of desks instead, searching for an empty seat that wouldn't require you to introduce yourself to anyone before eight in the morning.

You slid into the chair, setting your backpack on the floor with a quiet sigh of relief. If you could just make it through today unnoticed, you'd consider it a win.

You knew the routine by now. Keep your answers short; don't volunteer any information people didn't ask for; smile just enough that you don't come across as rude; and, above all else, don't give anyone a reason to remember you. 

If everything went according to plan, today would be painfully uneventful. By the end of the week, you'd just be another student sitting in the back of the class, and eventually people would stop wondering where you came from altogether.

That was the goal. Unfortunately, fate had apparently taken one look at your plan and decided it could use the laugh.

"I love your shirt."

The voice came so suddenly from beside you that your shoulders jerked, your hand flying to your chest before you turned toward it.

A girl with short, feathered hair was looking at you with a genuine excitement that couldn't have been faked, even if she tried. She leaned sideways in her chair, chin resting against the back of it as though she'd been waiting for the right moment to say something.

"Sorry," she said immediately, though she didn't look particularly sorry. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"No, you're fine." You let out an embarrassed laugh. "I just... wasn't expecting anyone to talk to me."

"Fair." She nodded once. "But that's a killer Fleetwood Mac shirt."

You glanced down instinctively, smoothing a wrinkle from the faded black fabric. "Thanks."

"They're my favorite."

"You've got good taste."

"I've been told."

Her grin widened, pleased with herself.

Up close, she noticed the rest of you almost by accident. The silver hoop through your nose. The dozens of piercings tucked along your ear. The random, pointless tattoos littered across your skin. 

"Holy shit."

You blinked. "What?"

"I just realized you're, like..." She gestured vaguely in your direction. "Cool."

You couldn't help the small laugh that escaped. "I don't know about that."

"No, seriously. We don't really..." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "...get a lot of variety around here."

You looked around the classroom. That, you could believe.

"Polo shirts," she continued, counting on her fingers. "Pastels. The occasional denim jacket if somebody's feeling rebellious."

"I wore flannel."

"I like you," she decided.

"You've known me for, what, thirty seconds?"

"Thirty very informative seconds."

Before you could answer, the classroom door swung open.

"Made it before the bell," a voice announced. "That's gotta be some kind of personal record."

You looked up just as a guy stepped through the doorway, dark curls tucked beneath a bandana, a worn leather jacket hanging over a faded Dio shirt. A handful of silver rings flashed as he adjusted the backpack slung over one shoulder, scanning the room with practiced ease before his eyes landed on the two of you.

More specifically...you. He slowed just enough to be noticeable.

"There he is," she muttered, mostly to herself.

The guy wandered over, stopping beside her desk before hooking a thumb in her direction.

"I leave you unattended for five minutes, and you're already recruiting?"

Robin looked offended. "I am making a friend."

"You've said that before."

"And sometimes it's even true."

His attention drifted back to you then. He took you in, eyeing you up and down, quickly assessing what to say. 

"...Hi."

You smiled politely. "Hi."

"I'm Eddie."

You gave him your name. He repeated it once under his breath, as if testing how it sounded, then nodded to himself. "Cool."

Robin watched the exchange with poorly concealed amusement.

"You had something else," she prompted.

"I did."

"You forgot it."

"I absolutely did."

"You do that a lot."

"I know."

He rubbed the back of his neck, giving you an awkward grin before looking back at you.

"Uh..." He cleared his throat. "Your shirt's cool."

Robin snorted. "I literally just said that."

"Oh," Eddie replied, refusing to look at her. "Then, I'm agreeing."

By the time first period was halfway over, your plan to remain invisible had been thoroughly dismantled.

It wasn't entirely your fault, though. Robin had an almost supernatural inability to whisper, and Eddie seemed physically incapable of letting the room stay quiet for more than five minutes.

Most of it wasn't even directed at you. It was little observations muttered just loudly enough for the two of you to hear whenever the teacher turned toward the board.

"...That's the third metaphor in ten minutes."

Robin didn't bother looking up from her notebook. "You're counting?"

"I have to entertain myself somehow."

Five minutes later…

"If Shakespeare wanted us to understand him, he would've written in English."

"He... did," you murmured.

Eddie frowned. "...Oh. Yeah."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.

By the time Mrs. O'Donnell called on someone to read aloud, you had already made the mistake of glancing toward Eddie whenever he sighed dramatically or whispered another running commentary under his breath. 

Every time your shoulders shook with another laugh, he caught it from the corner of his eye, fighting a grin of his own before pretending to pay very close attention to whatever was happening at the front of the room.

Robin leaned toward you just enough to murmur, "Careful. He gets encouraged way too easily."

"I heard that," Eddie whispered.

"You were supposed to."

"I know."

The bell finally rang before Mrs. O'Donnell could assign anyone another passage, and the room erupted into the familiar scrape of chairs and conversations picking back up where they'd left off forty-five minutes earlier.

Robin was already slinging her backpack over one shoulder. "Lunch?"

You blinked. "Already?"

She nodded. Eddie appeared beside the two of you, adjusting the strap of his own bag. "Cafeteria cuisine awaits."

"I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You should be."

The three of you filtered into the hallway with everyone else and were immediately swallowed by the rush of students moving from every direction. 

Lockers slammed shut in uneven rhythms, teachers called after kids who'd forgotten homework, and somewhere farther down the hall, someone was already arguing about Friday night's basketball game. The cafeteria wasn't much quieter.

You had barely stepped through the doors before Robin angled toward an empty table tucked near the windows.

"That's us."

"You have an assigned table?"

"We're creatures of habit."

"And deeply unpopular," Eddie added cheerfully.

Robin shrugged. "That too."

As the three of you crossed the room, a voice cut through the noise. "Well, would you look at that."

Tommy Hagan leaned back in his chair with an amused smirk, Steve and Nancy sitting across from him. Steve looked up first, following Tommy's line of sight before immediately realizing where this was headed.

"The Freak found himself another lost puppy."

A few nearby tables snickered, but Eddie didn't even slow down. "Morning to you, too, Hagan."

Tommy's grin widened. "Didn't realize Hawkins was taking transfers for the circus."

Before Eddie could answer, Nancy sighed loudly enough for everyone at their table to hear. "Tommy."

"What?"

"You don't have to be an asshole every time someone walks into a room."

"I'm just making conversation."

"No," Nancy replied evenly. "You're making yourself annoying."

Tommy rolled his eyes but finally shut up. Steve, who looked like he'd rather be literally anywhere else, offered Eddie the smallest apologetic nod.

Eddie answered with one of his own before continuing toward the empty table as though nothing had happened.

You glanced back once, surprised. Nancy caught your eye for only a second before giving you an almost embarrassed smile, one that seemed to apologize for the entire exchange without saying a word.

Robin noticed. "Huh."

"What?"

She pulled out her chair. "I don't think I've ever heard Nancy Wheeler willingly tell Tommy to knock it off."

Eddie dropped into the seat beside her. "Maybe Hell froze over."

Robin snorted. "Or maybe she's finally realizing he's exhausting."

You looked back one last time. Nancy had already gone back to her lunch, though something about the way she'd frowned down at her tray made it seem as if her mind were somewhere else entirely.

Lunch came and went quicker than you'd expected. Maybe it was because Robin had managed to carry ninety percent of the conversation on her own, effortlessly bouncing from stories about her mom to complaining about Hawkins High's criminal lack of decent music programs. 

Eddie chimed in whenever the opportunity arose, usually with dramatic commentary that had you laughing into your milk carton before you could stop yourself. Somewhere between the cafeteria mystery meat and Robin's passionate argument that The Breakfast Club was wildly overrated, you realized you'd almost forgotten why you'd been so anxious that morning in the first place.

By the time the bell rang, the cafeteria erupted into organized chaos. Chairs scraped across the floor, backpacks were slung over shoulders, and students poured into the hallways as if someone had kicked over an anthill.

"You've got chemistry next, right?" Robin asked as the three of you spilled into the crowd.

You nodded. "I've gotta stop at my locker first."

"We're headed the other way," Eddie said, hooking his thumb down the opposite hall. "Government. Which, by the way, is a completely made-up subject. They already have a government. Why do I have to learn about it?"

Robin rolled her eyes. "You say that every week."

"Because every week it's still true."

She looked back at you. "We'll see you after? You have gym, right?"

"Yeah."

"Cool."

The two of them disappeared into the stream of students, Robin nudging Eddie after he nearly walked into a sophomore because he wasn't paying attention.

The corridor was quieter now, most everyone already filtering into their classrooms. A few lockers slammed shut somewhere behind you, followed by hurried footsteps echoing against the linoleum. 

You spun the dial, worked the stubborn latch open, and reached inside for your chemistry notebook. Something white fluttered forward and landed at your feet, causing you to frown.

It wasn't notebook paper; it was heavier, folded neatly into thirds. Slowly, you unfolded it. Inside, there were only two sentences.

You can change your address, but you can't outrun what happened. Welcome to Hawkins, bitch. — A

The blood drained from your face then. No. No. Nobody here knew; they couldn't.

The newspaper articles had disappeared. Every report, every interview, every mention of your name had been scrubbed before you'd even left town. The police had called it a gas leak; the government had made sure of it. Your aunt had promised you, over and over again, that it was over. 

Your fingers tightened around the paper until it crumpled in your hand. Someone fucking knew.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur.

Mrs. Halpern called on you twice in Chemistry, and although you answered both questions correctly, you couldn't have recalled a single thing she'd actually taught by the time the bell rang. The folded note sat heavy in your backpack, tucked inside your notebook, where you kept catching yourself checking to make sure it was still there.

By the time you reached the girls' locker room for gym, you were still trying to convince yourself there had to be a logical explanation.

Someone from your old town moved here. Someone overheard something. Someone was playing a cruel joke. Anything was easier to believe than the alternative.

The locker room hummed with the usual pre-class chatter, metal doors clanging open and shut as girls changed into oversized gym shirts and tied their hair back.

Robin dropped her backpack onto the bench beside yours with an exaggerated groan. "If Coach makes us run the mile, I'm transferring."

"Can you even afford to transfer?"

"I'll transfer emotionally."

You laughed quietly, grateful for something that felt normal. "I think that's just called giving up."

"It's called self-care."

Robin spun the combination lock on her locker. "You'll learn."

The latch popped open. Almost immediately, something slipped free and drifted onto the bench between you.

"Huh." Robin frowned.

You glanced over. "What is it?"

"Probably another announcement." She reached down casually, unfolding the piece of paper without much thought.

The smile disappeared from her face. It wasn't obvious, but it was just gone. Like someone had flipped a switch behind her eyes. Her gaze stayed fixed on the page for only a second before she folded it again so quickly you barely caught a glimpse of the handwriting.

"You okay?" you asked.

Robin blinked. "What?"

"You just... froze."

"Oh." She let out a tiny laugh that didn't quite sound real. "No, it's nothing."

She crumpled the note into her fist. "Just some idiot."

"What kind of idiot?"

"The anonymous kind."

She shrugged, forcing another smile as she shoved the balled-up paper into the pocket of her bookbag. "You know. Hawkins High. Thriving intellectual community."

Robin was talkative, almost relentlessly so. But for the rest of the time she changed, she barely spoke at all. Only once the two of you started toward the gym doors did she finally clear her throat.

"So..." she said, her usual brightness returning just a little too deliberately. "If Coach says 'give me two laps to warm up,' we fake our own deaths, right?"

You laughed. "I thought you were transferring emotionally."

"I've decided that's too much paperwork."

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself, and Robin smiled back.

The note remained crumpled in Robin's backpack. She didn't look at it again until long after the final bell. When she finally unfolded it in the privacy of a bathroom stall, the words were exactly where she'd left them.

You can hide behind jokes all you want. Doesn't change who you look at when she isn't paying attention. How long before Hawkins notices, too? —A

By the time the final bell rang, Hawkins High emptied itself into the parking lot in waves.

Engines turned over one after another, buses hissed as their doors folded shut, and clusters of students lingered on the sidewalk, stretching out conversations they could've easily continued tomorrow. Eddie took his usual route toward the far corner of the lot, keys spinning lazily around his finger as he walked.

"You coming?" Robin called after him.

"In a second."

She narrowed her eyes. "You said that yesterday."

"And I meant it yesterday, too."

She snorted. "See you tomorrow, Munson."

He threw her a lazy salute before peeling away toward the battered van sitting by itself beneath the chain-link fence. Most people parked as close to the school as they could.

Eddie had learned pretty quickly that giving everyone else a little extra space saved him from finding mysterious dents and spit on his windows. He dug through his pocket for his keys, already fishing out a cigarette with the other hand when something caught his eye.

There was a folded piece of paper tucked beneath his windshield wiper.

He frowned. "Seriously?"

Probably another parking warning, or some freshman trying to be funny. He pulled it free, flattening the crease against the van's hood. 

Guess the apple didn't fall very far from the chop shop. Wonder what Uncle Wayne would think if he knew what you and your daddy really did during your father-son “bonding.” —A

The cigarette slipped from between his fingers, landing forgotten on the pavement. No.

He read the note again anyway, then a third time. By the fourth, he realized his grip had tightened enough to wrinkle the paper.

"Eddie?"

Robin's voice carried across the parking lot, and he looked up.

She was halfway out of her own car, watching him. "You good?"

He glanced back at the note. Without thinking, he folded it once, then again. By the time Robin reached him, it had disappeared into his pocket. 

"Yeah."

She studied him. "You don't look 'yeah.'"

He forced a crooked grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Just realized I forgot I have homework."

Robin stared at him for a beat before laughing. "That might be the worst lie you've ever told."

"I've told worse."

"I know."

She gave him one last suspicious look before climbing into her car. "See you tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He waited until her taillights disappeared out of the parking lot before climbing into the driver's seat. For a long time, Eddie just sat there, staring at the folded note resting in his lap. 

By the time Nancy stepped through the front door, she was already mentally sorting through calculus homework and college applications.

"Kitchen!" Karen called from somewhere down the hall.

Nancy slipped off her backpack. "I'm home."

"There was something in the mail for you."

Nancy paused. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know." Karen appeared around the corner, drying her hands on a dish towel. "Large envelope. I put it on the kitchen table."

Nancy's stomach gave a hopeful little flip. Emerson, it had to be. She'd been waiting all week. She crossed into the kitchen, already smiling to herself as she spotted the manila envelope sitting neatly beside the fruit bowl.

No return address, strange. She picked it up anyway. It wasn't heavy enough to be a packet. No school logo, no crest, nothing.

Her smile faded as she slipped a finger beneath the seal and pulled it open. A photograph slid onto the table.

It took her a second to understand what she was looking at.

It was her. Jonathan stood across from her beneath the pavilion at Lover's Lake, the two of them caught in the soft glow of a lone flashlight. She was smiling at something he'd said, one hand resting lightly against his arm while he looked at her with an expression she knew all too well.

The moment right before someone leaned in.

Another photograph. Same night, but closer, their faces inches apart. Then another. And another. Each one taken from somewhere in the darkness beyond the light. Someone had been watching them.

At the bottom of the envelope was a folded index card. Nancy unfolded it with suddenly trembling hands.

Poor Stevie. He still thinks he has you all to himself.  —A

"Nancy?"

Karen's voice floated in from the living room. "You okay?"

Nancy's eyes never left the photographs. Someone had followed them. Someone had stood in the dark, close enough to capture every glance, every smile, every hesitation she hadn't even admitted to herself. She hurriedly gathered the photographs into a pile just as her mother stepped into the doorway.

"What was it?" Karen asked.

Nancy forced the envelope shut and tucked it beneath a stack of textbooks before looking up.

"...Nothing."

Karen frowned. "I thought it was from Emerson."

"So did I."

"Maybe tomorrow," Karen offered gently.

Nancy managed a smile that felt brittle around the edges. "Yeah."

Karen returned to the kitchen. Nancy waited until she was gone before pulling the photographs back out. 

Jonathan didn't get home until well after dark.

The grocery store had been busier than usual, and by the time he pulled into the driveway, every light in the Byers' house except the one over the stove had already been turned off. Joyce had left for her night shift an hour earlier, and Will had almost certainly gone to bed.

He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, rubbing his eyes tiredly before climbing out. Something sat in front of the screen door: a cardboard box, no bigger than a shoebox. No shipping label, no postage stamp. 

Just his name written neatly across the lid in black marker.

Jonathan frowned. "...Mom?"

He glanced toward the road, but nothing greeted him.  He picked the box up and carried it inside, setting it carefully on the kitchen table. For a second, he considered leaving it unopened, but curiosity eventually won, and he peeled back the tape. Inside was a thick stack of photographs. His stomach sank before he'd even picked one up.

Steve. Nancy. The photographs from the school's developing room, the ones he'd sworn he'd thrown away. One after another.

Steve with his arms around Nancy. Nancy lifting her shirt. Steve kissing her neck. Every single picture he'd secretly taken through the trees that night.

His breathing slowed. "No..."

He knew these; he knew every frame. Hands suddenly unsteady, Jonathan thumbed through the stack faster. They were all there, every single one. Even the negatives. Tucked beneath them was a folded piece of paper.

Poor Johnathan. Can’t have her all to himself, so he settles for watching from the outside. Would be a shame if Nancy saw these, wouldn’t it? —A

Steve didn't think twice when he got home.

His parents were gone, as usual. The house sat in complete silence, the only sound coming from the grandfather clock ticking somewhere deeper inside. A note rested on the kitchen island in his mother's handwriting, letting him know dinner was in the refrigerator if he wanted it.

He tossed his keys into the bowl by the front door. "I'm home," he called anyway.

No answer.

"Shocking."

He took the stairs two at a time, already reaching for the collar of his polo to tug it over his head. By the time he pushed open his bedroom door, he was thinking more about tomorrow's basketball practice than anything else. Then he stopped.

There was an envelope sitting in the middle of his bed. Cream-colored, perfectly centered against the navy comforter.

Steve frowned. "...What the hell?"

He crossed the room and picked it up. Steve.

He slid a finger beneath the flap. A single photograph slipped into his hand. Nancy. Jonathan. Lover's Lake.

She was smiling at him. Not the polite smile she gave strangers, not the one she wore in yearbook pictures. The real one.

Steve stared at it. Then another photograph. Jonathan was looking at Nancy like she was the only person in the world. Another. Their hands brushed as they walked. Another. The distance between them disappearing.

Steve's jaw tightened. Folded beneath the photographs was an index card.

Funny thing about second choices... ...they never know they're second until someone better comes along. —A

His first instinct was to laugh; it had to be fake. Some asshole with too much time on their hands. Nancy loved him.

Didn't she?

The next morning, you told yourself yesterday had been a fluke. One note, one sick joke, and nothing more.

You repeated it in your head while getting dressed. On the drive to school. Walking through the front doors. Even as you smiled at Robin when she waved from farther down the hallway.

Normal, everything was going to be normal. You reached your locker before first period, balancing your chemistry book against your hip while you worked the combination.

The latch clicked, and you pulled the door open. Something slid forward. It didn't flutter to the floor like yesterday's note; it hit the tile with a dull slap.

A newspaper clipping, yellowed around the edges, and folded in half. Slowly, your knees bending almost without permission, you picked it up. The headline stared back at you: 

LOCAL TRAGEDY LEAVES DOZENS DEAD

No. No, no, no.

Your hands shook as you unfolded the rest. The article had been blacked out in places with thick marker, entire paragraphs disappearing beneath uneven strokes, but one grainy photograph remained untouched.

At the bottom of the clipping, written across the photograph in neat black ink: 

Still think it was an accident? Run all you want. It’ll find you anywhere; I’ll make sure of it.  —A

You burst through the side doors, the crisp morning air hitting your face like ice water as you crossed the practice field without looking back. The grass was still damp with dew, soaking through the canvas of your sneakers as you headed toward the line of trees bordering the property.

Only when the school disappeared behind the branches did you finally stop. Your hands found your knees. Your chest tightened until it felt like someone had wrapped steel bands around your ribs.

"This is not happening," you whispered to yourself. "It's not happening."

The clipping was still clenched in your fist, crumpled beyond recognition. You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Hey..." The voice was so soft you almost missed it. "...Sweetheart?"

Your head snapped up.

Eddie stood a few yards away, one hand still holding the cigarette he'd apparently forgotten to smoke. His backpack hung lazily from one shoulder, concern replacing the easy grin he usually wore.

"You okay?"

You immediately wiped at your face with the sleeve of your flannel. "Yeah."

He looked at you for a long second. Then, with the smallest shake of his head, he started toward you.

"Usually," he said carefully, "when girls are crying and tell me they're fine..."

A corner of his mouth tugged upward. "...they're generally not."

A watery laugh escaped you before you could stop it. "Is that right?"

"It's one of the few things I've actually learned in nineteen years."

You looked down at the ground. "I just... needed a minute."

"Mhm."

"I'll be okay."

"Mhm."

"You don't believe me."

"I believe that you think you'll be okay."

He shifted his weight, glancing toward the school before looking back at you.

"But I also think whatever made you sprint into the woods before first period probably wasn't a pop quiz."

"...Hey."

You looked up.

"You don't have to tell me what's wrong." His voice stayed quiet. "But... whatever happened back there scared the hell outta you."

You swallowed. "I know."

"And I know we've known each other for..." He checked an imaginary watch. "...roughly twenty-four hours."

A weak laugh escaped you.

"So maybe I'm overstepping."

"No."

"I just..." Your voice caught before you could finish.

"There are..." You paused, searching for words that didn't sound completely insane. "There are things that have happened in my life that..." You shook your head. "Nobody here is supposed to know."

Eddie's brow furrowed. "Okay."

"I mean nobody. But somehow, someone else does.”

Eddie looked away for a second. "...When you say 'someone else'..."

"...You mean..." He stopped himself. "...Things nobody should know?"

You stared at him. "...Yeah."

Eddie reached into the inside pocket of his vest. He didn't say anything; he simply unfolded a wrinkled piece of paper he'd been carrying around since yesterday and held it out toward you.

You looked down. The handwriting. The black ink. The signature. Your stomach dropped.

You looked back up at him. "...You got one."

"I got one."

"When?"

He gave a humorless laugh. "Yesterday."

Your heart started racing all over again. "You didn't tell anybody?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face. "I figured somebody was screwing with me."

"I thought..." You looked back toward the school. "...I thought somebody had followed me here."

"I don't even know who'd know mine." He sighed. 

Your fingers tightened around the crumpled newspaper clipping. "...Mine shouldn't exist."

Eddie looked at you. "What do you mean?"

You hesitated. Then slowly opened your hand just enough for him to see the edge of the yellowed newspaper.

Not enough to read it, just enough for him to realize it wasn't from yesterday. His eyes flicked from the clipping to your face.

"...Jesus."

You nodded once. "I wasn't lying."

"I know."

"No, I mean..." Your voice cracked. "I really don't know how they know."

"...Are you kidding me?" Robin's voice carried through the trees a second before she did. She pushed through the brush, hands thrown up in disbelief as she looked between you two.

"What the hell, guys?"

Eddie looked over. "Oh. Hey, Rob."

She blinked. "'Hey, Rob?'" she repeated. "Why aren't either of you in class?"

You instinctively wiped beneath your eyes.

"...Were you crying?"

"I'm okay."

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't believe either of you."

Eddie pointed at you. "See? I told you."

"Told me what?"

"That whenever somebody says they're fine while actively crying..."

Robin finished the sentence with him. "...they're usually not."

She looked between the two of you again. "I went to English."

Neither of you said anything.

"I figured maybe one of you overslept." She shrugged. "Then neither of you showed up."

"So I told Mrs. O'Donnell I had to use the bathroom."

"You skipped class?" Eddie asked.

"I skipped five minutes of class."

"You've changed."

"Oh, shut up."

Robin's gaze drifted to the folded paper still hanging loosely from Eddie's fingers. "...What's that?"

Eddie looked down, then back at her. For a moment, it looked like he was weighing whether to answer. Finally, he held it up.

Her eyes scanned the page, the color draining from her face.

"...Where'd you get that?"

"On my van."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"You... never said anything."

"I wasn't exactly eager to advertise it."

Robin swallowed. "...It was signed, wasn't it?"

Eddie frowned. "...Yeah."

Robin let out a slow breath through her nose. "No way."

"What?" Eddie asked.

She stared at the ground for a second before reaching into the pocket of her jacket.

"I thought..." she muttered. "I thought somebody was just being an asshole."

She unfolded a wrinkled piece of notebook paper. The black ink matched Eddie's perfectly. The same sharp handwriting, the same signature at the bottom.

—A

"You too?" you asked quietly.

Robin nodded once. "I found it yesterday."

"You didn't tell anybody?"

"I was kind of hoping if I ignored it, it'd magically become somebody else's problem."

Eddie gave a humorless laugh. "How'd that work out?"

"...Poorly."

Neither of you asked what the note said; Robin was grateful for that. She folded it back up before either of you had a chance to read it, stuffing it into her pocket with a practiced shrug that fooled absolutely no one.

"It was..." She searched for a word, eyes fixed on the dirt beneath her shoes. "...Personal."

Eddie looked from Robin to you, then back toward the school barely visible through the trees. "I don't think this is a coincidence anymore."

Robin shook her head. "No."

You tightened your grip around the crumpled newspaper clipping still hidden in your sleeve. "...Neither do I."

You made it back before second period ended, after Eddie insisted on walking you to the side entrance, the two of you agreeing, without ever really saying it aloud, that whatever was happening would stay between the three of you for now.

At least until you understood it.

By seventh period, you hadn't retained a single thing your teachers had said. Every unfamiliar face in the hallway made your stomach tighten. Every folded piece of paper you saw sticking out of someone's notebook caught your attention for just a second too long.

When the final bell rang, you waited for the hallway to thin before ducking into the girls' bathroom. Maybe splashing some cold water on your face would make you feel less like your heart had been living somewhere in your throat all day.

Someone stood at the sinks with their back to you, shoulders rigid beneath a pale blue sweater. You recognized the chestnut curls before she turned around. Nancy Wheeler.

She startled at the sound of the door closing, hastily folding a piece of paper in half. 

"Oh."

Nancy quickly wiped beneath one eye, forcing the kind of smile that only made it more obvious she'd been crying.

"Sorry," she said quietly. "I... didn't know anyone else was in here."

You shook your head. "It's okay."

You'd spoken exactly twice before. Once when she'd apologized for Tommy in the cafeteria. Once in Chemistry, when she'd handed you a pencil after yours rolled beneath a lab table.

"...It's Nancy, right?"

She nodded. "...Yeah."

"I'm..." You gave her your name.

"I know."

Nancy looked down at the folded paper in her hands, almost instinctively trying to hide it behind her sleeve.

Your eyes followed the movement. Then slowly, very carefully, you asked, "That’s from A, isn’t it?"

Nancy's head snapped up, the color draining from her face. "...What?"

"You heard me."

"...How..." she whispered. "...How do you know that?"

You reached into your backpack. Without saying a word, you unfolded the now-soft newspaper clipping you'd carried around all day.

Nancy's eyes flicked from the article to the black ink scrawled across the bottom, then to your face. 

"...Oh my God."

You nodded once. "I'm not the only one."

Nancy looked back at the letter in her own hands. "You too?"

"Me."

"My friend."

"...Actually..." A humorless smile tugged at your mouth. "...Four of us."

Nancy looked up quickly. "...Four?"

You nodded. "Eddie, Robin…"

"And now..." Your eyes settled on the paper still trembling in her hands. "...You."

Nancy leaned back against the sink as though her knees had suddenly forgotten how to work.

Nancy barely had enough time to fold the letter back into its envelope before the final bell echoed through the building. Students spilled into the hallway in every direction, conversations overlapping into one constant wall of noise.

She looked at you. "...I don't think I can do this by myself."

"You don't have to."

The two of you stepped out of the bathroom together and were immediately swallowed by the crowd.

"Nancy!"

The voice cut through the hallway sharply enough that people nearby turned to look. Steve.

He was pushing through the crowd, jaw tight, one hand clutching something so tightly it had crumpled around the edges.

He stopped in front of her. "What the hell is this, Nance?"

Nancy frowned. "...Steve?"

He held up a photograph. Even from where you stood, you recognized Jonathan's jacket. Nancy's eyes widened.

"...Where did you get that?"

"So it's real?"

"Steve, let me see it."

He pulled it back before she could reach it. "No."

His voice wasn't angry so much as... hurt. "You tell me why somebody left this in my locker."

Nancy's face went pale. "Locker...?"

Steve flipped the photograph around. On the back, written in thick black marker, were three words.

Ask your girlfriend. —A

Nancy felt the blood drain from her face. "...No."

Steve stared at her. “‘No' what?"

"No, I mean..." She shook her head frantically. "Steve, somebody's doing this."

"Doing what?"

"They—"

"They what?"

"They've been sending—"

"Nance." His voice cracked. "It's a picture."

He turned it back over. This time, you saw it clearly: Nancy and Jonathan, standing beneath the pavilion, Jonathan's hand cupping her cheek, and Nancy kissing him.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?"

The hallway had gone almost completely silent around them. People slowed as they walked by, and the whispers started. 

Nancy took one desperate step toward him. "It wasn't—"

"What? What it looks like?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Steve let out a hollow laugh. "I defended you."

His eyes shimmered with disbelief more than anger. "When Tommy started running his mouth yesterday, I told him to shut up."

He looked down at the photograph again. "I thought we were okay."

"We are."

"Are we?"

Steve didn't say another word. He looked at Nancy for one long, unreadable moment before turning on his heel and shoving his way through the crowd.

"Steve!" Nancy hurried after him. "Steve, wait!"

By the time the three of you spilled out into the afternoon sun, Steve was already halfway across the parking lot, moving with long, determined strides.

"Steve!" Nancy called again.

Then Steve stopped, not because of Nancy, but because he'd spotted Jonathan. Jonathan had just stepped out of the school, camera bag slung over one shoulder, as he headed toward the student lot.

Steve changed direction without hesitation.

Your stomach dropped. "Nancy..."

Jonathan looked up just as Steve reached him. "What—"

His sentence was never finished; Steve's fist connected squarely with his jaw. Jonathan stumbled backward, crashing into the side of a parked car before sliding onto one knee.

The parking lot erupted while Nancy shoved past you. "Steve!"

Jonathan wiped at the blood already forming at the corner of his mouth, looking up in complete disbelief. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Steve was breathing hard, and his hand was still clenched into a fist. "You wanna tell me?"

"I don't even know what this is about!"

Steve barked out a bitter laugh. "No?"

He reached into his backpack and yanked out a thick manila envelope. "You don't recognize this?"

Before Jonathan could answer, Steve threw it at his chest. The envelope burst open the second it hit him. Photographs scattered across the asphalt, dozens of them.

Nancy instinctively looked down, her face draining white.

She recognized herself immediately. Standing in Steve’s bedroom, shirt rising over her head, then another of them kissing, then her bra…

Jonathan stared at them, his entire body going still. "...No."

Nancy slowly bent down, picking up one of the photographs with trembling fingers. Then another, then another. Each one felt worse than the last.

She looked up at Jonathan. "...You took these?"

He couldn't answer. "Nancy..."

"You were watching us?"

"It wasn't—"

"You were watching us."

Steve shook his head, chuckling in disbelief. "This is the guy you cheat on me with, Nance?"

Nancy's eyes never left the photographs in her hands; there were simply so many. So many moments she'd never known someone else had witnessed.

Then, something caught your eye. Another folded piece of paper had slipped from the envelope, drifting beneath Jonathan's shoe. You reached down before anyone else noticed and unfolded it. The now-familiar handwriting stared back at you.

Smile for the camera. Everybody loves a good love triangle. —A

"What the hell's going on?" Robin's voice carried over the crowd as she and Eddie hurried across the pavement, weaving around students who had already formed a loose circle around the fight.

"Move, move—excuse me—"

She squeezed between two juniors just as Eddie stepped around the edge of the crowd.

His eyes found you immediately. "Hey."

He reached your side, his expression pinched with concern. "You okay?"

You looked at him, still clutching the folded note, but before you could answer, his gaze dropped to the photographs scattered across the asphalt.

Nancy. Steve. Jonathan. Dozens of them. Some half-crumpled beneath students' shoes, others fluttering in the breeze.

"...Oh. Oh fuck."

Robin finally reached the front of the crowd beside him, her eyes darting from Steve, who was still glaring at Jonathan, to Nancy standing frozen with a photograph in her trembling hands.

"What..." She bent to pick one up. "...the hell?"

She looked up at you. "This..." she said quietly. "This isn't..."

You gave the smallest nod. "...Yeah."

Eddie's eyes narrowed. "It's them."

You nodded again. "The same person."

Robin's stomach dropped. She looked back toward Steve and Jonathan, neither of whom had noticed the three of you yet.

"...They don't know."

"They have no idea," you replied.

Eddie watched Steve shove Jonathan back another step before looking down at the photographs littering the ground.

His jaw tightened. "...This is exactly what they wanted."

Robin frowned. "Who?"

Eddie looked between you and Robin. "The person sending the notes."

It wasn't just three separate secrets anymore; it was one game. And somehow, all of you had been invited to play.

A fr.

well, I hope you all enjoyed :)))) part two will be out soon, promise.

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