𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

𝟔. 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

Boys from the basketball team were scattered all over the room, eating fistfuls of cereal straight from the box or chugging lukewarm beers left over from the night before. The overripe smell of the rotting ceiling tiles made that sick feeling in your gut rear its ugly head.

An old TV was playing in the corner — news footage straight from Eddie's trailer. A nervous-looking reporter with dozens of people lined up behind him, craning their necks to catch glimpses at the fluttering white sheet that had been placed delicately over Chrissy's body. The blurry headline racing across the bottom of the screen was clear as day; Hawkins Student Found Dead.

You had been standing in that exact spot not even ten whole minutes ago.

"(Y/N)?"

The sound of your name makes you flinch and you look over to see your brother sitting up on the broken sofa, giving you a dirty look. You knew better than to show up there, and if you hadn't just been though a solid four hours of police questioning, maybe you would be a little afraid. Patrick sat beside him, smiling confusedly but not sober enough to command himself to greet you.

No one else really seemed bothered by your presence, watching the news with hungover fascination. It hits you all at once that nobody else knows. You're the only civilian in Hawkins who'd been burdened with the knowledge of Chrissy's death.

You came all this way because you thought Jason deserved to hear it come from you instead of that new police chief who no one really seemed to like. But time was running out and that blue state police cruiser wasn't far behind you. You wondered if they've told anyone's parents — if they've told Chrissy's.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain yourself, when the refrigerator door slams shut and you peer over the chipped diner countertop to see Jason standing up with a jar of pickles stacked under his arm. He had obviously had a fun evening – his hair whisked unevenly across his forehead and clothes all askew. You could practically smell the beer soaking through his white t-shirt from across the floor.

It hits you all at once what you're about to do and the tears you've been holding since you walked up the steps of Eddie's trailer come flooding out of you.

Andy rushed to his feet and set a hesitant, somewhat comforting hand on each of your shoulders as he looked back at his team for help. "Hey, hey, (Y/N), what happened? Are you okay?"

You nearly expected him to kick you right back out of the restaurant for disrupting what looked like a killer group hangover. Who was this guy and what did he do with your brother? The one who literally banned you from talking to him at school because the only thing worse than people finding out about his dorky math tutor was people finding out that the two of you were related.

Lucas must've closed the door behind you because all of a sudden the room was dark again and you could only make out slivers of everyone's faces in the multicolored light of the Christmas bulbs. A few other guys stood up, looking stiff, awkward, and out of place. Like a couple of G.I Joe's propped up in a broken dollhouse.

You shake your head with a pathetic sniffle, bubbles of tears blinding you as they fell in heavy rivers down your cheeks. You don't think you've cried this hard since you watched The Last Unicorn in theaters for Will's birthday three years ago. You obviously can't form the words necessary to explain what was wrong, but Andy pulls you into a stiff hug anyway.

It's unnaturally supportive; nothing like the hugs your parents forced you to perform on family vacations to prove to the other families that you were somewhat normal. Andy hasn't hugged you like this since all you cared about was Barbie, My Little Pony, and trying to catch Santa coming down the chimney on Christmas Eve.