BASKET CASE | mike wheeler

xvii. undone

"Jane." Caleb huffed as he was pulled into the teenager's arms, falling limp against his chest. "Want Jane."

"Dunno who that is, buddy." Steve murmured, stepping back to allow the rest of the kids to pile out of Hopper's truck before setting off for the compact house in front of them.

"Bob." Caleb whimpered, curling into himself as they waited for a trembling Joyce to open the front door. "Couldn't save Bob."

"You tried, kid. You tried."

Another fog settled over his mind before he could reply and he was set down on a couch across from the one Will had been laid on, where he fell into another disturbed sleep until he was woken by the sound of yelling.

"We can't just sit here while those things are loose!"

"We stay here, and we wait for help."

Caleb grunted, pulling himself up on his elbows and glancing around blearily. "Jane?"

"Caleb!" Max cried, kneeling down next to the couch she had been sat on while Hopper made his phone call, clutching the boy's hand tightly. "Thank fuck, I thought you were dying or something, you kept passing out!"

"Alright, give him a bit of room, red." Steve stood from the other end of the couch, breaking his eyes away from where Nancy was comforting Jonathan and smiling down at the boy softly. "Feeling any better?"

Caleb shook his head, grimacing at the smell of blood and sitting himself upright, shedding the navy duvet that had been placed on top of him. "Head hurts. Ears stopped ringing, though."

"Good, that's good." Steve nodded, scuffing at the floor with the toe of his sneaker and clearing his throat, a troubled expression on his face. "Look, uh... I know this isn't really the best time, but... well, I just wanted to say sorry, for yelling at you the other morning. You were right, it wasn't my place. And uh, well, I know you told me you got in a fight, but Hargrove said something to me in the changing rooms yesterday. Said something about your dad-"

"Not my dad." Caleb snapped, resting his head back down on the arm of the couch, giving Max's hand a firm squeeze to try and gain some sense of actual being. It felt like he was drifting away from himself, from everything. "More important things to deal with now. Where's Joyce?"

"In her room." Max informed him, staring at his hands which had become tainted with the blood he had tried to wipe from his face during the car ride, mumbling something about not letting the doctor see. "Hasn't left it since we got here."

"Shit." Caleb muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Shit. This is gonna break her. It's gonna fucking break her."

"There was nothing you could do, Caleb." Steve patted his shoulder, but his attempts were futile and the boy simply turned away from him and grew very quiet. "I'm gonna see what those little shits are whining about, alright?"

Neither of them replied as he slinked off to the kitchen, and Max kept staring at his scarlet hands, face creased in thought. "Lucas told me," she finally said, "about everything."

"Shit." Caleb sighed, pulling his hand away and sitting up again with a small grimace. "Little bastard got to it before I could. How much of 'everything' did he tell you, exactly?"