Content warning; suicidal thoughts, homophobic slurs.
Saturday, March 22, 1986.
Oz was convinced that somewhere between last night and that morning, he'd effectively lost his mind. That was the only reason he could think of as to why any of this was happening. That was the only logical explanation he could give as to why he'd just hallucinated the voice of his dead best friend coming to murder him in the back room of Family Video. It didn't quite explain why he was pretty sure his coworkers knew far more than they let on, but that really was a problem for another time. At the moment, he had far more pressing matters to attend to.
He wasn't sure where to go.
Somewhere in the fear and confusion, Oz had run about halfway through town before realizing that he had no idea where he was going. It wasn't until he reached the end of Cornwallis, near the edge of the woods, that Oz seemed to run out of steam. He came to a stuttering halt in the middle of the road, doubling over and bracing his hands on his knees. He began dry-heaving again, trying his very best to not throw up all over his own shoes.
This was fucked. It was all so incredibly fucked. Every explanation Oz could come up with was worse than the one before—he was poisoned, had a psychotic break, or most likely this was some sort of divine punishment—and it did nothing but worsen his already awful mood.
It also didn't offer him any actual answers.
"Oz." The voice still echoed in his head. It was Tyler's voice, clear as anything, but it also wasn't. It sounded mangled, as if spoken through a garbage disposal.
That solidified it for Oz, though. It had to be some sort of punishment from a higher power that was being inflicted on him. How else could he hear the voice of someone who had been dead for almost four years?
On top of all of that, Steve and Robin knew. They'd said it right to his face. If they knew, then that had to mean that they knew about Tyler, and they knew about that night. They knew about the one thing that people were never allowed to know about.
Oz felt his breathing speed up again, quickly leaning back on his knees while trying to take deeper breaths. He was crying—again? Still? He wasn't sure—as he heaved out broken breaths.
Suddenly he became aware of just how visible he was, all but standing in the middle of a road lined with houses, filled with families, any of whom could look out the window at any moment and see Oz having a meltdown. With some difficulty he picked himself up and headed for the treeline. He figured disappearing into the woods was as good a choice as any.
The story of Oz and Tyler was a complicated one—far too complicated for Oz to correctly put into words. They had been friends, at one point, until Oz ruined it. Like he ruined everything.
He was incapable of admitting it, even back then, but Oz had been in love with Tyler. He'd been a coward about it. Still was. Oz often thought he could have made a difference just by admitting it out loud, but he'd been too scared. He'd stayed quiet, and it had made all the difference.
Now, Tyler was dead.
Tyler had been dead since halfway through freshman year, when he'd ran out of Oz's house. Not a day went by that Oz didn't see it play out behind closed eyelids. The sight of Tyler's car crushed into nothing, his body lying lifeless on the asphalt, the bright flashing lights of an ambulance that arrived far too late.
Looking around, Oz realized that he'd effectively gotten himself lost. He was rather certain that he'd passed the exact same tipped-over tree three times now, but he didn't know where he'd gone before the tree. That was the shit part of focusing on crying instead of his surroundings.
Oz wanted to go home. Not his own home—that place hadn't been home since he was eight years old—but a place where he could feel at home. He just didn't know where that was. It wasn't in Hawkins, that much he was sure of.
He'd already considered the places he could possibly go to. None of them quite sufficed. He could sit around the theater for as long as they would let him, or chuck some rocks into Lover's Lake until he tired himself out. Maybe he'd hang out at the Quarry drop, let his legs dangle off the edge and consider jumping for a good while.
Because Steve and Robin knew.
Oz trusted Robin, to a certain degree. She hadn't had the easiest time in high school either, and he assumed a level of understanding from her. No, Robin likely wouldn't go out of her way to tell the people of Hawkins what Oz was. But King Steve Harrington was a different story entirely.
Oz had very little faith in the in the idea that the same man who'd so easily called others queers and faggots in the past would be kind enough not to out Oz now. Even if accidentally. Oz knew he'd be too disgusted to keep quiet about it for long. He gave himself a week, maximum, before everyone in Hawkins knew that he was a dirty fag.
Oz didn't intend to stick around for that long.
Somewhere behind him, a twig snapped, and Oz twisted himself around as quickly as he could. The woods were empty, as they had been ever since Oz walked in. The hair on the back of his neck was raised, and he couldn't shake the awful feeling that he was being watched. He was vaguely aware that he must look completely manic, crying in the middle of the woods and shaking like a wet cat. Considering the fact that it was the middle of the day, it wasn't even all that hard to imagine that someone would stumble upon him.
Damn it. Being found by some random person, in that state, was the last thing Oz wanted.
Walking straight ahead was as good an option as anything. At least, if he beelined ahead he might end up somewhere that wasn't the same crooked tree for the fourth time over. Maybe he'd even end up at a road, or even just a trail.
Maybe if he focused on walking for a little while he didn't have to think about anything else.
So instead, he focused on breathing. He cradled his hands to his chest and attempted to steady his own breathing. Breathing in when he put his left foot forward, and out on his right. In, out, in, out. He kept going in a steady rhythm, walking and breathing a little faster than he perhaps should but regaining some sense of mental clarity all the same.
There were only two things he allowed himself to think about; his own breathing, and how he was going to hand in his resignation from the video store. He'd miss Family Video, in some odd way. He'd miss working with Robin and he'd miss the employee discount and he'd even miss talking to customers when they'd ask him for movie recommendations. He wouldn't miss Keith's smug face or the way Steve would constantly attempt to be his friend and feign an 'I'm a nice guy now' attitude, but the pro's had outweighed the cons for a very long time.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but was realistically about five minutes, Oz felt something hard beneath his feet and saw the road ahead of him. He was pretty certain he'd reached Cornwallis again, which meant that all he had to do was walk up it to reach his own house. Or he'd go left on Sixth Street and hide out in the library for a good while. That seemed like the better option, considering that his mother would be home all day.
The library it was.
Oz crossed the road, deciding to walk on the gravel that lined the sides of it. It wouldn't be another half a mile until he'd reach the land of the living—or a sidewalk—so the gravel would do.
He couldn't help but duck his head slightly as a car passed him. Oz didn't want to assume that Steve and Robin were out there hunting for him like some sort of militia, but considering the things that had happened to him that morning he didn't entirely rule it out either.
He still couldn't place any of it—the voice, the lights, the vines—and Oz wasn't sure that there was an explanation out there that could ever truly satisfy him. Besides, of course, the idea that it was an act of God, punishing him for being gay. He couldn't rule it out.
Somewhere along the way, Oz managed to calm himself down. He didn't have to think about his breathing anymore, and his hands were now shoved into his pockets. He was still somewhat shrunken in on himself, but that was mostly his natural posture. Head down, shoulders forward. In some way, he felt a little relaxed at the idea of hiding out in the library for the rest of the day. It would allow him some more time to think.
"Oscar?"
Fuck.
Looking up, Oz was met with the sight of Steve, Robin, and the two kids that had been with them that morning, all piled in Steve's car that now stood still in the middle of the road. Before Oz could even move, Robin and Steve had both gotten out and were now slowly walking towards Oz.
"H—hey," Robin tried carefully, hands raised in an attempt to show her good intentions. "We—uh. We come in peace?"
Good one, Robin.
"Listen, man, we just want to talk, okay?" Steve tried in a more direct manner, also with his hands raised. "We think we know what's happening, and we want to make sure you're okay, right? So just—come with us. Please?"
It was a nice try. Too bad there was no way in hell Oz would ever go with them.
It all happened way too fast. One moment, Oz was darting back down the road, towards the woods, and the next he was wrapped in Steve Harrington's arms, being lifted into the air like he weighed as much as a stack of papers.
"Let me go!" He snarled, twisting and kicking his legs.
"No way!"
Oz struggled, attempting to fold himself in half to bite Steve, pushing his legs backward to try and kick his knees, throwing his head back to try and hit his face—anything he could do to get out of here. His face was stained with tears again. Though, he looked more like a feral animal than a frightened human.
"Motherfu—" Oz managed to kick Steve's leg, hard, being dropped to the ground right in front of the car. Steve fell to the ground, clutching his knee, Oz having been long forgotten. He took off running again immediately.
But it didn't last.
Oz had barely managed to turn away from the car before he was hit by something hard and metal against the back of his head. All he could feel or hear before hitting the ground was a ringing in his head and his ears, and then everything turned black.
"Max!" Robin jogged up to the car with a gasp, looking at the red-haired girl holding a flashlight above her head like it was a deadly weapon. "Jesus, is he dead?"
"That was bad-ass," Dustin said with a grin, climbing out of the car to get a closer look at Oz. It earned him a disapproving frown from Robin.
"Uh, yeah, jesus." Steve slowly got to his feet again, taking the flashlight from Max's hands. "Uh... well done. Please don't do that again." He kneeled down to check if Oz was still breathing. Thankfully, there were soft little breaths coming from him, shallow as they were. At least Max hadn't accidentally murdered anybody.
"We should probably, uh—" Steve froze for a moment, looking at the three others in front of him. "What do we do? We're pretty sure he's—uh—possessed, right?"
"Yup," Dustin agreed, "totally possessed. We should tie him up, at least."
"And keep him where? The backroom of Family Video?" Robin responded incredulously. Dustin shrugged for a moment, making Robin shake her head. "No way! We would totally lose our jobs if anyone found out."
"We could keep him with Eddie."
They all turned to look at Max, who's face was colored with quiet indifference.
"It makes sense. We could keep him in the shed until we figure out what to do. If he wakes up, we could explain everything, and maybe he'll calm down."
"He'll kill Eddie." Dustin had his arms crossed, shaking his head. "I mean, they almost fought in the cafeteria like two days ago."
"We'll keep him tied up," Max argued, "until he calms down, anyway."
"How about we ask Eddie first?"
"Fine."
Steve stood now, arms on his hips and giving both kids disapproving looks. "Well, if you two are finished arguing, we should get him in the car and all of us off the road. It looks like we just murdered somebody in broad daylight."
It didn't take long for them to reach Reefer Rick's house again, this time with an unconscious Oz in the trunk. They had been right when searching for Eddie's hiding place, finding him in the boat shed of the house. After some unpleasantness where Eddie had almost decapitated Steve with a broken bottle, the four of them had gotten a chance to listen to Eddie's explanation of Chrissy's death. After, Dustin had explained the basics of The Upside Down to Eddie, and thankfully he'd believed them pretty easily. It wasn't hard, considering the things he'd seen. It hadn't exactly aligned with what they knew about the monsters from The Upside Down, but they couldn't rule anything out.
Worse than that, the things he'd said about Chrissy were exactly the things they'd seen with Oz, save for the whole bone-snapping-eyes-bleeding thing. It was too similar, and while two might be a coincidence, in Hawkins it never seemed to be.
Vecna's curse. That's what Dustin and Eddie had called it.
"We're back!" Dustin announced right before Robin slapped a hand over his mouth. The four—or really, five—of them were walking back into the boat shed, Oz's unconscious body thrown over Steve's shoulder.
"Quiet down, man," Steve chastised in a whisper, "we're not exactly throwing a party here."
Dustin pushed the door open and walked back into the shed. It was darker now, far more than it had been earlier that day. Dustin had to look around for a few seconds before he could see Eddie walk up to them, having been hidden by the shadows.
"Back so soo—" The words died in his throat as he looked at the body hanging over Steve's shoulder. "What the fuck is that?"
"This is Oscar. You know him." Steve shrugged him off, laying the unconscious boy down on an old, shaky bench pressed against the shed's wall. "He's possessed, too."
"Oh, no. No way. No fucking way, man." Eddie was shaking his head and taking steps back, wide, scared eyes flitting from Dustin to Steve to Oz's body. "No way that you're leaving him with me. I'm not doing that."
"Told you!" Dustin slapped Steve's elbow, earning him yet another disapproving look.
"It's just temporary," Robin assured him, "until we find a cure or something."
"We'll tie him up." Max was already digging around the shed, throwing some rope Steve's way. "All you have to do is keep both of you alive while we figure stuff out."
Eddie looked between the four of them with wide, scared eyes as they worked on tying Oz to one of the shed walls' wooden planks. The boy stirred slightly as they worked, making all of their nerves stand on edge. Finally, Max found a piece of cloth and handed it to Steve. He looked at it a bit strangely, unsure of what to do with it.
"For his mouth. So he can't scream."
Eddie couldn't think about just how horrifying the little girl's calm attitude was considering the situation they were in. They'd kidnapped a kid, and now they were tying him up in the shed where they were also keeping a murder suspect. Eddie was pretty sure that if he'd been in Max's position, this alone would make him collapse in on himself. That's not even counting the fact that she'd lost her brother less than a year ago. He feared the girl, if only for the fact that she seemed to be keeping it all together, somehow.
"Uh, guys." Robin took a hesitant step away from Oz. "I'm pretty sure he's waking up."
Oz's head rolled a little, a groan escaping him, and his eyes slowly blinked open.
"Wha-he—" Oz mumbled behind the gag, unfocused eyes looking around the room before settling on the group of five in front of him. His head was burning, his entire body felt bruised, and when he tried to move Oz discovered that all of his limbs had been tied up.
Steve, Robin, the two kids, and fucking Eddie Munson were staring him down. Of course he was there. He'd killed Chrissy, and now he was going to kill Oz. He didn't want to believe that Eddie had killed Chrissy—or even think about it at all—but now? What else was he supposed to think? The only thing Oz could get himself to figure out was why this was happening.
Fuck. I'm going to die like this. It was the only thing Oz could think as he began to struggle against his binds. They were going to kill him. Tied up like a wild animal—like prey. He tried to scream, tried to push the gag out of his mouth, but nothing seemed to budge. He was really fucking stuck, and he was going to die like this.
"Okay, hell," Steve's hands were in his hair, pacing a few steps before standing in front of Oz. "Look, man, please calm down. We're trying to save your life here."
Oz wanted to laugh, or curse him out, or kick him in the leg again. How was this in any way about saving Oz's life? He couldn't think of a single thing that could explain away the position they'd put him in. Oz kept trying to kick his feet, refusing to even look at Steve as he attempted to explain himself.
"Oz!" Robin shouted, finally making Oz freeze in place. "You're cursed, okay? You're cursed by a demon who wants to kill you and we're trying to stop it. So can you please listen to us?"
And, to her credit, Oz kept quiet after that.