"Jesus, you're late!" Mike exclaimed as I walked down the basement stairs.
"Yeah, I got a little fucking held up," I muttered. My backpack was still at Mike's, but it had dirty clothes in it now. I hadn't seen Steve in a day and a half, so I couldn't just get more clothes from my suitcase in the car.
"Why are you in a bad mood?" Lucas asked.
"None of your fucking business." I zipped my backpack shut, throwing it back on the floor. And then I snapped.
"Actually, yeah, you can know. I have no fucking clothes, you guys kicked me out when important shit came up, and your girlfriend just about called me a dyke for no reason! And I think it's kind of fucking stupid. And I'm exhausted, and I haven't seen Steve in more than a day and he has all my shit in the car-oh yeah, in the fucking car, because we're fucking homeless." I scoffed, flopping on the couch.
It was quiet for a little bit. I looked back up, finally realizing what was going on. Will was sopping wet in the corner, looking traumatized as ever. Mike had one of the walkie-talkies in his hand, and Lucas was standing next to the phone.
Will nodded, his eyes shifting around the room.
"Uhh, okay." Lucas frowned. "We have a lot to talk about."
"What, are you gonna interrogate me and ask me about the dyke comment? Or how about the homeless part?"
"Later." Mike interrupted. "Where's Max and El?"
"What do you care about them?"
"It's important!"
"He's back, Daisy," Will said.
"Who's back?"
"The mind flayer."
"Oh. Awesome." I rolled my eyes. "It's over. That bitch is dead. We burned the shit out of it, and Eleven screamed at it and it's dead or something." I leaned back on the couch. "It's over."
"It's not over." Mike groaned.
"I am not fucking fighting another one of those weird dogs. I've still got a scar on my hand."
"Scars tend to last pretty long." Lucas pointed out.
"Fuck you."
"Okay, we get it, you've had a bad day." Mike stood up and walked over to me. "But frankly, the mind flayer is more serious. You need to suck it up and deal with it until we get this bigger fucking issue sorted out."
"Fuck you Wheeler," I muttered.
"Fine, what do you want me to do about it?" He exclaimed. "I can't undo whatever Max called you, or wether or not they're bonding. And I don't think I can get your house back, Daisy. Please, stand up and tell me specific instructions, because I will do it if you stop being so dramatic."
"Please, you're being the fucking dramatic one." I crossed my arms. I still had Max's sweater on, but it was disgustingly sticky. I hadn't buttoned my coat when we left the Holloways, so I was soaked.
"Mike, she's having a bad day," Will muttered.
"Clearly." He rolled his eyes. "They're friends, they'll get over it."
"Dammit Mike, do you really think I got over that so quickly?" Will asked. "Ooh, It's not my fault you don't like girls."
"Well, now she fucking knows!" He shouted.
"She knows because I told her." He poked Mike in the chest. "And no, I am not over it. That's not something you say to your best friend. So listen to me when I say this. Stop being an asshole, and suck it up having to actually care about someone other than yourself for once."
Lucas was staring at everything as it went down. He looked like he was about to pull a bag of popcorn out of nowhere and watch us like a fucking movie.
"Can we just stop fighting, for like, one minute?" Mike asked. "And where the hell is Dustin?!"
"Probably with Steve, being his little stuck-up bitch." I rolled my eyes.
"Where did that come from?" Will asked.
I scoffed, glancing at the pool of water around Will's feet. "Are you gonna bring that puddle everywhere or are you gonna change?"
"I don't have any clothes."
"Yeah, me too."
"Can you guys all just apologize?" Lucas asked.
"For what?" Mike and I said at the same time.
"Being assholes to each other."
I shrugged. "Can I borrow a t-shirt?"
He looked me up and down. "Maybe."
"Get Will something too," Lucas added, watching Mike walk to the stairs.
"Got it." He nodded, running up the stairs.
After a moment of silence, I leaned back against the couch and smiled. "So, the mind flayer."
Will nodded. "I can feel him. He's in Hawkins."
"Ugh. Creepy."
Will nodded, looking back to Lucas.
"So, Max called you a dyke?"
"Yep."
"Why?"
"I dunno."
"Was it because of that thing you said the other day?" Lucas muttered. "About Phoebe Cates?"
"Jesus Christ," Will muttered.
"She probably said it because apparently, that's what I look like."
Lucas stared at me. "Is that Max's sweater?"
"Yeah."
He nodded. "Are you a lesbian?"
"No, no, of course not." I shook my head. I think I might've done it too much, and it looked super obvious that it was a lie.
"Okay, cool."
"Alright, Will, here's some stuff." Mike bounded down the stairs and handed him a folded pile of clothes, grabbing a yellow t-shirt off the top and handing it to me. "And for the resident flower."
"I've never been called the resident flower before," I muttered, taking the shirt. "Is this clean?"
"Yes, ask my mom if you don't believe me."
"Thanks."
He rolled his eyes. "So, where are the girls?"
"El's, probably."
He scoffed.
"When did you tell her, Will?" Lucas turned to him. "About you."
"She asked." He muttered, glancing at me. "Do you want to change in the bathroom?"
"Oh, yeah." I took Mike's shirt and closed the door almost all the way, leaving it open enough so I could hear what they were talking about.
"How do we reach them?" Mike asked.
"Reach who?" Lucas said.
"The girls. El and Max."
"Well, I doubt they're gonna wanna talk to you now," Will added. "Especially with your nana lie."
"Hopper threatened me!"
"Mike!" The door at the top of the stairs flew open. I couldn't tell whose voice it was yet.
"What?!" I cringed at the sound still, but I'd gotten used to the random shouting—kind of.
"It's late!" Karen Wheeler. I left the bathroom, wearing the clean shirt and tossing my wet one over the drying rack by the washing and drying machine.
"I know!"
"Come up and get ready for bed please!"
Mike groaned, going to the stairs. "Mom, this is really important."
"I don't care if it's important, it's past nine." She replied. "And it's time for you kids to get to bed.
"It is nine o'clock." He said. "That is not that late."
She sighed and slammed the door shut again. Her footsteps began on the staircase above us, on going to the second story.
"Alright, I'm calling again." Lucas grabbed the walkie-talkie, un bunching the antenna.
"I'll call." Will reached for the phone, still in his wet clothes.
"I got it," I muttered, taking it from his hand. "Go change."
He nodded, turning away.