#yeaaa.....

𝒮ee, the thing about Nikki [ and there are, regrettably, many things about nikki ] is that she has never learned the respectable art of leaving well enough alone. Most individuals arrive into this world furnished with boundaries, property lines, sensible little hedgerows separating one person's interior from another's. NIKKI DID NOT POSSESS SUCH EQUIPMENT. Whether by defect or design shall remain anybody's guess, but she encounter these walls with a little pickaxe.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀╵╵ [ today was one of those days. ]

They'd argued for the better part of an hour. Nikki pushes because this is what she does best, Taissa refuses because this is what she does best. TWO UNSTOPPABLE FORCES, both discovering that much to their collective irritation, that they have once again chosen the same narrow highway. That is, until, Taissa had firmly planted herself & her tongue, speaks. & suddenly the room changes shape. For once, Nikki stops. WHICH OUGHT TO BE CLASSIFIED AS SUPERNATURAL ON ITS OWN. she's stood with the backpack strap dangling from one shoulder, fingers curled around the strap. you can practically see it, thought colliding behind her eyes. THE TRULY MISERABLE FACT: Nikki likes Taissa enough to be angry, to be pushy, to notice. Finally, ⠀“ Y'know what ? Fine. You really wanna know ? ” She turns, steps closer. Close enough now that this has stopped being an argument and has transformed into autopsy.

The backpack slips from her shoulder and lands at her boot with a soft, defeated thud. Her attention has moved elsewhere, fixed now upon the other with the particular intensity Nikki reserves for very specific places. ⠀“ I think you're, like, trying so hard to be good at pretending shit just doesn't get to you. Like ... ” she continues, words gathering a momentum now, emphasizing the syllables with her hands. ⠀

⠀⠀“ So good at it, that you think everybody else should do the same thing. ⠀⠀And maybe that's just so great, and so super awesome and maybe you're ⠀⠀so super really good at it. ”

It was a dark and stormy night…. But thankfully, for Leland Hawkins, it was Midday, and well past the rain and wind infested night. Remains of the storm remained on the ground, showing in the silver dew droplets that glazed the summer grass and the small clumps of slow drying mud that bunched up on the edges of murky puddles. He walked with an air of determination, hesitant but strong. The clunking sound of his boots along the road echoed and splashed through the otherwise silent street.

Leland had spent the last few weeks locked up in that shop of his, thinking, sulking, and working. He had fixed many things in his time away, but the most important thing he fixed was himself. Leaving his home, and his family, was probably the hardest and worse thing he ever did, and ever could do.  But there was no way to go back and change what had happened, only move forward and clean up the mess he created. He moved swiftly down the street preparing for his toughest crafting job yet; rebuilding the shattered remains of his relationship with his family. And the first step to that was a talk with Sarah.

The door to the Diner swung open, the silver bell above the door ringing in an old and rusted tone. Propping himself against the frame of the door, Leland let his eyes roam over the familiar sight of the Diner, taking in a few whiffs of the freshly cooked and sweet smelling food that hovered through the place. It had been a while since he had been to the Diner, not since that night before the fight when he walked Sarah home. He missed the place, the friendly atmosphere, the workers, even the leaky sink that blasted him with water whenever he helped out. True, he could have entered the Diner whenever he wanted, but he just couldn’t bring himself to go in, couldn’t bring himself to face her.

But as soon as he spotted her, he knew he couldn’t turn back.

She was pale, paler than usual, her silky brown hair now hung limp in a loose bun. Her eyes were glassed over, framed by dark circles that hung from her eyes like jewelry. And, although he couldn’t see it from this angle, a small bump was slowly taking obvious form over her belly. Honestly, she looked ready to fall over where she stood. Leland frowned at this scene.

Now, he wasn’t about to get all self centered and turn all of this on himself, saying that he was the reason she was like this and what not. That would be placing far too much credit onto himself, leaving him with the idea that she worried over him enough to make her like this. Leland was positive that any worry or concern had been discarded of a while ago, she had probably moved, she must have moved on, he was afraid she moved on. But either way he couldn’t help but feel some guilt from it, not that he was the one who caused it (even though he did take partial credit to her current state) but more for the fact that he wasn’t there to stop it, and see her to health.

And now…he was afraid. Afraid of what she would think, of what Jim would think, afraid that in the few weeks of his absence that they might have moved on (or found a magical Unicorn namedBlossomBubbles, Buttercup that flew them off into that stereotypical sunset.) Afraid that all the time he spent consumed by thoughts of them, that not one thought was passed to him. A large part of him wanted to flee, and walk away before he made a bigger fool out of himself. But there would be no more walking away for Leland Hawkins. He was determined to face this, and fix this.

Pushing himself off of the door frame, he made a few silent steps toward her frail and sickly frame, pondering what he might say. He had thought about this moment several times, imagining what he could say to break the ice. Words had never been his specialty, and now would be a horrible time to say something stupid like he usually did. Thankfully, fate had a smiled kindly on the man, deciding that they wouldn’t completely screw him over today.

Just steps away from his wife (whom, at this moment was cleaning a newly dirtied table) he noticed her sway slightly. The silver tray of plates wobbled in her grasp as she fought to stay up, until her legs gave way and began to send her to the floor. Noticing this, Leland made a quick move to catch her before she landed on the cold tiled floor. The plates shattered below them with a loud crash. Leland held onto Sarah tightly, if not a bit awkwardly. Somewhat confused as to what just happened. He did his best not to stare at her directly (from the sheer fear of seeing a hard and cold glare of hate that was sure to emanate from her.) as he searched for something to say.

A cool thing would be simply to say nothing and smirk, a corny thing was to use a cheap pick up like ‘Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Probably not, because I caught you.’ And the Leland thing to say was simply….

“…Hi”

Smooth Leland. Smooth.