Night Vale ▷ Steve Harrington

xviii. free pass

Still. She had a point. And so Scout shakes his head in an attempt to rid thoughts of wanting to see Steve, and works with Letitia in a joint effort to wrench open the front door, proving much harder than it needs to be when they finally do get the damn thing wide open and discover the multitude of crushed bottles and beer cans jammed in the frame. They pause for a moment, surveying the mess. 

Once again, Letitia voiced what he was thinking. “It’s gonna take forever to clean all this up.” 

“Yeah.” Scout gulped, then continued. “I kinda feel bad.” 

Something stirred at his shoulder, and he felt Letitia turn her head to stare at him. He purposefully averted his gaze, instead focusing on the satisfying crunch of glass that emitted when he grinded his shoe on the concrete. Probably shouldn’t do that, he thought. Makes it harder to clean up. He stopped, then started again after a second thought. “Seriously?” She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “You feel bad? Scout, he's the one who wanted to throw this party. You’re not part of the flattering population that decided to trash the place while drunk —" 

“Right,” the blond interceded darkly. “I just tried to make out with the guy who hosted it, I forgot.” 

For some reason, Scout felt an instant surge of resentment rise up in his gut at that. Even though he quickly tried to squash it down, it’s not hard to tell that the damage has been done. 

“Right,” Letitia repeated, her tone somehow not as dark as his had been. “Okay, well. Sorry to break this off, but looks like this is your stop.” 

Forlornly, Scout follows her gaze to where it’s landed on his bike lying discarded on the snow-laden grass of the front lawn. Before he can even fathom just how painful it’ll be to ride the stupid thing all the way back home — his side, somehow, still hasn’t healed, and the last time he checked, was still working on an impressive bruise — Letitia bent down (nearly taking Scout down with her, like she forgot she’s supporting a good amount of his body weight) and grabbed the handlebars, shaking it as much as she could with one hand to get some of the snow off it. With one hand, she cleans it up pretty well, actually. Even brushes off what’s left of the pile on the seat, too. The feeling in his gut began to fade as he watched. 

“How’m I even gonna get home?” Scout complained, his voice verging near a whine. Even if he was going to ride home, it would take a ridiculous amount of time just trying to maneuver through what easily could be a foot of snow. Not to mention how cold his hands were trembling, even though they’ve literally just stepped outside. And walk home? Forget it. 

“Same way I’m going to,” Letitia replied. Somewhere in their walk outside she’s managed to grab a coat, one he doesn’t recognize. While he’s busy staring between the bike and her, the brown-skinned girl is preoccupied with making sure she’s warm, tugging it tighter around her body before reaching a hand up to her neck to make sure her hair hasn’t gotten stuck in the process. 

Like some kind of compensation — since his hoodie isn’t much protection, and it’s like four in the morning — Scout dug his hands into his own pockets, but his gaze won’t leave his friend. “W-wait, did you -- did you just steal that? From inside?” 

“Are you crazy? Anyone who came to this party would have killed to get something like this; got it right after your little secret spilled. My mom picked it out, thought it would make me feel better.” 

He honestly had no idea what to say to that except, “Did it?” 

Perhaps it’s a trick of the darkness, what little light is beginning to show, or something else altogether, but Scout could have sworn she shook her head. A blink of the eye and the evidence is gone, though, because the next thing he knew, she’s wished him luck and turned to head in the opposite direction, already a meter away before he could comprehend what he may or may not have even seen in the first place. By the time it comes for her to turn on the next street, the only thing he can see quite clearly is the scarf wound around her neck, the rest of his best friend disappearing like the Cheshire cat.