Sunday 1978. 5:04PM
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Your mom had gotten home just minutes ago, already passed out on the couch as soon as you heated up dinner for her. She mumbled a small 'thank you' and pecked you on your forehead lightly before going to sleep. Multiple blankets lay untouched in a basket across the room, and it was cold in the house, giving it was mid October, so you unfolded your favorite blanket and draped it over your mom. You were careful not to wake her up, settling the floppy plate of uneaten slices of pizza onto the coffee table near the couch. Before heading to the door to grab your shoes and sweater, you gave your mom a small kiss.
You needed alone time, not cooped up in a small space like your room, or your house in general. You also didn't want to risk running into anyone outside in the front yard, so you ultimately set on going behind the Grab N' Go to think more thoroughly about how you felt. Not just about Vance, but about everything else. Should you really have talked to Robin more about what happened on Wednesday? You felt extremely guilty and couldn't get the images of him crying out of your head no matter how hard you tried. It just broke your heart seeing him sob over something he couldn't control, something that wasn't even his fault. You felt so bad that he blamed himself for what Moose and his friends did, though he couldn't have stopped it since he wasn't there. He didn't know that it would happen, it wasn't his fault.
After minutes of walking, you ended up at the Grab N' Go, which was entirely packed. Kids from school sat on the curb eating candy and other snacks from the store, and others just lingered around, talking with their friends, or—
Watching Vance Hopper play pinball.
There was a small crowd gathered around him as he attempted to beat his previous high score, deep in focus. He ignored his friends cheering for him, or the girls that were trying to flirt by saying they could never get a score that high and that he was talented. You found yourself staring at him, full on taking in his features. He wore a simple white tank top with dirt and grass stains, most likely from fights, and light wash bell-bottom jeans. His eyes darted all around the game and the store went quiet. Vance was just 100 points away from beating his score.
You didn't want to be there when people were leaving, including Vance, so you trudged over across the parking lot and sat down in the boy's usual spot when talking to you, since that's what you do now, apparently. What you wanted more than anything was to bottle up your growing feelings for the stupid boy and throw them away, go on with your life and never talk to his dumb ass again. Why did he have to make you feel this way? He hasn't been nice to you once, why did you like him? Everything was so frustrating, and it made you want everything to go back to normal, when you didn't ever talk to Vance, when Wednesday didn't happen, when Robin didn't feel responsible for what happened, when Griffin and Billy weren't missing and you didn't have a strong feeling that something bad was going to happen sometime soon that would affect you.
"God, when is this gonna end.." you ran your fingers through your hair and brought your legs to your chest, tears already beginning to form in your eyes.
You were beyond disappointed in yourself. You had failed your best friend, and developed a crush on someone that didn't like you back.
"Hey." You heard a raspy voice greet from your right. You didn't bother to look up, because you already knew who it was. Vance stood in front of you now, trying to find the right words to say.
"Are you crying?" The tone of his voice, it sounded like he was trying his hardest not to sound rude. The boy was doing a pretty good job, but you wondered why he didn't want to sound rude when he already was during all of your previous interactions.
"No," you hated when others saw you cry, but Vance had seen you do it before. He could deal with it again.
"Yes you are." Why was he even here, anyway? To yell at you again?
"Can't you see I wanted to be alone? Go hangout with those people that were with you just a minute ago. Leave me alone." That right there was the reason you piqued Vance's interest. You weren't afraid to bark back at him, despite knowing about his anger issues. Not many people did that, let alone girls.
Don't say anything rude. Don't say anything rude. Don't say anything rude.
"I was trying to be nice, but what-the-fuck-ever. Maybe if you weren't such a depressed bitch you'd have friends, like me." Vance shrugged, pointing to himself proudly and smirking after. You couldn't help but smile at that, and also try to fight back a giggle from escaping while still not meeting his eyes.
Oh. Vance was trying to make you laugh. He was doing a great job so far too, you gave him that. But still, you wanted alone time. After almost a minute, Vance still wasn't gone. He stood there, arms crossed over one another and tapping his foot impatiently.
"Are you gonna say anything back?" He was so accustomed to your witty remarks at this point that it was surprising to him you didn't make one. No, you weren't gonna say anything back. But no, you also weren't mad at him.
"Talk to me! Why aren't you speaking?" he bent down to your level and shook you roughly on your shoulders. You still didn't respond, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Vance would leave because he was bored.
Guess not.
You sighed deeply and stood up, shrugging his hands off of you. You then wiped your tears with your jacket and finally locked eyes with Vance. He looked irritated from you not responding, but why did he care anyway? He acted like you weren't the one doing most of the talking during your interactions. It was as if he was afraid of becoming friends with you, or at least opening up to you more, becoming more than just 'Pinball Vance Hopper' or 'the toughest kid at school'.
"Have you ever gotten high?" The sudden question caught the boy off guard, and he scratched his chin awkwardly, having to think about it for a second.
"No, I only smoke cigarettes." Oh boy, this would be fun. A way to get everything off of your mind and hangout with Vance.
"Follow me." He didn't question it further, not until you were both halfway to your house. Follow you? Were you gonna kill him or something?
"You? You smoke weed? Actually?" Vance snickered at the thought of you getting high.
"The fuck is that supposed to mean, Hopper?" You shot him a dirty glare when approaching the front steps to your house and unlocked the door, letting him in. Vance hesitantly stepped inside and looked around until laying eyes on your mom. She was still, yes, passed out on the couch, but the food you warmed up earlier was now gone.
"Take off your shoes, my mom is big on having the house clean." Vance muttered something inaudible under his breath before taking off his shoes and tossing them into the shoe bin carelessly. He trudged up the stairs close behind you, so close that you could hear his breathing. Jesus, that dude needed to learn about personal space.
"You know how to roll?" He asked when you closed and locked the door behind the both of you upon reaching your bedroom.
"'Course I know how to roll, dipshit. It's easy." Vance sat himself down on your bed without asking and glanced around your room, taking in every poster plastered on your walls. You were a music gal, he could tell now.
"You steal this shit or did you actually buy it?" He questioned, running one hand down your Blondie poster.
"I'm gonna push you out of my window, just shut up and wait." You still did want alone time to think, but weed was weed, and you sure as hell needed to get your mind off of everything going on. So, once you were done, you put on your one and only Blondie record.
"I'm getting the vibe that you like Blondie," Vance commented when he was passed the blunt.
"Holy shit, this smells weird." He nearly gagged when taking in the scent.
Half an hour had passed, and Vance was high as a rocket. He told you stories about his fights, and very few details about his home life which you had pieced together to come to the conclusion that his father was the reason Vance Hopper was Vance Hopper.
"Wait, wanna hear a story?" The boy mentioned someone named Max he got into a fight with, and it reminded you of that same kid, who you had stolen the bike from.
"Hell yeah," Vance seemed calm and serene when he was high, making you want to get high with him more.
"Well, I met this kid named Max. He pissed me off at school because he was slut-shaming some innocent girl, so wanna know what I did?" You laid on your side, holding your head up with your bent arm to get a good look at Vance's reaction.
"What'd you do?" He asked almost eagerly.
"I waited until school ended and stole his bike off the bike rack. To make things worse, I made sure that Max saw it too. He watched me ride away on his most prized possession and leave him stranded there at school. He was totally pissed and tried to beat me up the next day, he even followed me outside where I eat lunch! But what he didn't know was that I'm friends with Robin Arellano." The way you said his name, you spoke in a way that was admiring your best friend. You looked up to him in so many ways, and were actually entirely grateful he was there to save your ass that day.
"Robin beat him up and no one ever tried to mess with me again. Well, until.. y'know... Moose." Vance laughed at your story up until the Moose part, then his face went straight.
"Moose is an asshole. More of an asshole than me. Kid's always spewing bullshit like there's no tomorrow and can't put up a fight." You giggled at that and went quiet, just taking a moment to enjoy everything. Not having to worry about anything, and smoking weed.
If Robin found out you smoked without him, though, and with Vance Hopper, he would be pissed. Which is why he couldn't find out.