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"𝑜𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒶 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹, 𝓃𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔."
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Jonathan slams his hand repeatedly on the red OPEN button, somehow convinced that something will happen if he keeps pushing it. He and Dustin argue back and forth in a heated debate on why the gate is not working. The usual buzz in the air is silent, telling me the power is out here. I inform them of this, but they continue to try to pry the metal gate open.
I prop my elbows on my bent knees, hanging my head between them in shame.
I wish I were stronger.
My friends need my help, and I can't do anything. If I hadn't expelled all my energy at the junkyard, I could open the gate. We could save Will and Mike if only I was good enough.
Nancy sits next to me, the impact of her body on the ground sending dust and dirt flurrying around us. "Hey, you okay?"
"I'm alright." I lie. I dare to sneak a glance at Steve, something I immediately regret.
He's stood next to Max and Lucas a few feet from the gate. While Max and Lucas talk, Steve rests his hands on his hips, indenting his baggy, roughed jeans. His jacket has pulled back just enough to expose his heaving, broad chest.
Nancy follows my stare. "I know that look," she tells me. "he's thinking."
"Is he even capable of that?" I joke.
Nancy smiles warmly. "You'd be surprised."
The loving look she gives me makes me sick to my stomach. I suddenly remember Halloween night, and my skin crawls. I betrayed one of my best friends.
I nibble on my nails nervously.
Does Nancy still love Steve? It's apparent he still loves her, and she knows it.
The gate creeks open slowly. Nancy instantly rises to her feet, beckoning for Jonathan to follow her. Steve's face contorts to a noticeable scowl.
"Where are you going?" I whisper, grabbing Nancy's leg. She looks down at me.
"We're going to find the boys. We'll be right back." she reassures me.
I try to stop her from leaving, but my muscles burn at the slightest movement. Nancy and Jonathan take Jonathan's car up the road, disappearing past a bend in the road obscured by trees.
Steve takes Nancy's place at my side next to the booth. He stands, playing with his lighter in his hands. An awkward tension hangs in the air, and I secretly wish he'd go away.
"You know, you're surprisingly not a bad babysitter," I tease, trying to lighten the mood.
Steve huffs, a tiny smirk cracking his handsome features. "Yeah, I guess it's easy when your parents are horrible examples. What would dad do? Then do the opposite, you know?" he rambles. I allow him to spill his thoughts, maybe just because I like the sound of his voice. He stops for a second. "You're not too bad yourself... at babysitting, I mean," he tells me. "for an idiot, anyways,"
I laugh and roll my eyes.
"You'll have to read up on some fresh insults," I quire.
"I can't read, remember? You're supposed to teach me," he jokes.
"Uh huh," I smirk, pushing against his legs next to me with my elbow, but he doesn't budge. "tell you what, Harrington. If we live through tonight, I'll tutor you,"
"Is that... a sense of kindness I smell?" Steve raises his nose in the air. "Or even... friendship?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Harrington. The sooner you graduate the sooner you leave Hawkins. Been trying to get you outta my hair for a year now," I lie.
Regretfully, if I'm honest with myself, I know I don't want Steve to leave Hawkins at all. A part of me deep down inside my heart tells me it's important to keep him close.
I hear a hum of an engine in the distance. It races closer, tires kicking up loose rocks and dirt on the road."Someone's coming," I tell the group. I point inside the gate. "from in there."
"Guys, look!" Max points at two cars barreling down the road in the opposite direction of the lab.
Steve holds out a hand and I take it. He clutches my hand tight and pulls me up.
Jonathan's car is first, honking loudly and speeding past us.
A beastly SUV with Hawkins Police Dept. plastered on the side screeches to a halt next to us.
"Let's go," Hopper demands.
Steve ushers the kids into the car first, ordering them to hurry to the back seats. He lifts me up into the car. I slide over into the front middle seat next to Hopper. Steve hops in right after.
Squished between the two men, I can barely breathe, nevertheless move. I begin to pick at my fingernails at a matching pace with my racing heart again. At this rate, I'll have zero fingernails left by the end of the night. It probably doesn't matter because we're all going to die anyway.
Maybe the embalming people at the funeral can still paint the nubs that remain where my long fingernails once were? If not, I'm okay with them painting straight onto my skin. I mean, I'm dead. What the hell do I care? Funerals are for the living to look at you one less time. I'm sure mom will want my nails painted yellow, her favorite color.
The bumpy road knocks Steve and I into each other a few times. Heat radiates off of him, making me sweat.
"Does anyone want to explain what's going on?" Dustin squeaks out.
I side-eye Hopper. His hardened expression hints at witnessing something he really wishes he didn't. He doesn't address Dustin's queries.
"Steve..?" Dustin whimpers, and my stomach sinks. For the first time, my little brother has reached out to Steve for comfort instead of me. A dangerous concoction of jealousy and sadness brews inside me.
Steve inadvertently puts an arm over my shoulder as he reaches into the back seat to ruffle Dustin's hair. "I got you Bud,"
His deep, loving tone sends warmth spreading rapidly through my chest. It overtakes me like a virus. I feel myself drawn to Steve, to beg for his comfort and protection as well.
I bite my tongue hard, drawing blood. I remind myself who I am.
I don't need protection. I don't need comfort.
Especially not from Steve Fucking Harrington.
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I sit with my back pressed firmly against the wall, elbows resting on my propped-up knees. Staring at my once-white-now-brown Converse, I listen to Hopper's phone call.
"I don't know how many people are left alive... I AM THE POLICE! Yes, 6767. I will be here." he slams the phone back into its place on the wallpapered wall. I flinch, reckoning the call did not go as swimmingly as we hoped it would.
"They didn't believe you, did they?" Dustin frowns. I twist to look at him.
"We'll see," Hopper groans.
"We can't just sit here while those things are loose! We have Y/N, she can take them!" Mike complains childishly.
I open my mouth to protest his willingness to volunteer me to fight monsters when Dustin speaks up.
"My sister's not risking her life because you don't want to be patient!"
Steve puts a hand on Dustin's shoulder to soothe him. "Y/N is tired. Even if she wants to go out there, she'll die," his brown eyes meet mine in a flash, an urgent glance as if to check if I'm listening. He clears his throat. "And uh... if she did, Tiny here would be really upset," he gestures to Dustin, who is offended. "So let's... not... die," Steve trails off awkwardly. Taking the tense silence as a queue to leave, Steve walks back into the hall while rubbing his temples.
"We stay here, and we wait for help," Hopper instructs everyone. He doesn't give anyone a chance to argue before he disappears into the depths of the long hallway.
I bury my face into my dirty hands, no doubt smearing gunk and makeup everywhere. A body slides down the wall to my left, plopping beside me. I presume it to be my brother until an unexpected voice resonates in the hazy air.
"Careful, that makeup's the only thing that makes you bearable to look at," Steve jokes, trying to lighten the mood.
I look up and elbow him playfully. "Oh, shut up. We both know you'd look like a thumb without all this," I gesture generally to his head full of hair. "Steve Fucking Hair-ington
"You think you're funny, don't you?" he frowns.
I smile. "I'm the funniest person I know,"
"Yurtle is funnier than you," he counters.
My jaw drops to the floor. "First of all, ouch. Second, how do you know about Yurtle?"
"Dustin tells me everything. We're best friends, don't you know?" he kids.
"Oh, then he must have informed you how much you piss me off,"
"Nope. Just how much you love me,"
"You wish, Steve Harrington."
He graces me with a hardy laugh, a sound I never imagined I'd be so thankful for. In all this sorrow and loss, I'll take any brightness. Even if it is from Steve.
"You know, you're probably right," he giggles, Adam's apple bouncing in his throat. My heart sinks into my stomach, and my eyes widen. Thankfully, he can't catch it in the dark. "About the hair,"
"I should sneak into your house and shave it while you sleep. It would do well for your ego to be taken down a notch or two," I tease, desperate to play off how nervous he makes me.
Steve's lips puff out into a theatrical pout. "Aaand that's it, I'm gonna start locking my doors at night,"
"You should've already, after that movie we watched,"
We giggle amongst ourselves like little kids for a moment. Eventually, the noise fades, and we are plunged into an uncomfortable silence as Steve stares at Nancy.
The mention of Halloween night tosses an immediate blanket over the air, snuffing out any fire in the conversation.
Nancy eyes us from the kitchen.
"I think you should talk to her," I force myself to say.
"I don't know..." he's apprehensive.
"You love her, don't you?" I push.
He shrugs. "What is love, anyways?" he frowns.
"Fuck if I know," I scoff.
"You've never been in love?"
"There was this one guy back in the Home. It was a long time ago, though," I relent, toying with my shoelaces.
"What happened?" Steve speaks quietly. He's far too close for comfort and talking all too sweetly for our supposed I-hate-you-more relationship.
"Superheroes don't have time for relationships." I play it off as a joke, not wanting to get into it any further. Steve relents, sensing my discomfort. I haven't thought much about Davis since I saw him that night many years ago. Every once in a while, I see someone in public that looks like him, though I know it's impossible for it to be. He's buried in a cemetery back in California, wilting flowers stacked on his tombstone.
"His army!" Mike shouts, startling us. Steve and I rise to our feet quickly to check what the kids are talking about. "Maybe if we stop him, we can stop his army, too,"
I look over Dustin's shoulder to watch the boys scramble papers together, rambling incoherently about how the monster acts as a virus infecting Will.
"It's a Hive Mind," Dustin adds.
"A Hive Mind?" Steve repeats.
"A superorganism, interconnected..." I mummer, leaning over the table to fumble with the papers strewn about.
"When the vines feel pain, so does Will," Mike explains. I nod in understanding.
"So, to kill all, we need to kill one," I look over my shoulder at Will's unconscious form on the couch. "But that means..." I clamp my mouth shut, thankful no one seems to have heard my skepticism. I can't afford to think this way, let alone share my thoughts with the kids.
The group devolves into a debate on whether or not the military stands a chance against the Demogorgons. The boys insist that killing the Mind Flayer will free will, but Hopper disagrees. Their voices fade into a misty haze in the background as I slowly approach Will. He's completely still except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. I sit on the floor next to the couch he sleeps on, propping my head up on my palm. I find myself staring at him blankly, waiting for the moment his tiny chest quits moving. What would I be able to do if that were to happen, anyways?
"I want to kill it," Joyce interjects in the other room.
"We don't know where it is," Jim raises his voice sternly.
"Will does!" Mike exasperates.
Will stirs in his slumber. I squeeze his arm comfortingly. Suddenly, an idea comes to mind.
I turn abruptly to look at Hopper. "He can't spy if he doesn't know where he is," I blurt.
Steve raises a brow and gestures my way. "She's right,"
"Okay. Yeah, that's a good point..." Hopper trails off, looking around. He rests his hands on his hips in contemplation. "I've got an idea."
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Steve practices his swings with the nail-ridden bat. I watch him silently, picking at my nails.
The air hangs heavy between us. Unfortunately, it isn't a foreign feeling anymore.
Sick and tired of the tension, I stand up and make my way to the next room. I find Nancy leaning against the wall, curled into a ball. I slide next to her. We don't say anything for a while as I rest my head on her shoulder and she rests her head atop of mine. I have almost forgotten the comfort my best friend brings me; we haven't seen much of each other lately.
"So..." I croak, my throat dry. "you and Jonathan have been hanging out a lot,"
I feel Nancy smirk. "Yeah, he's cool,"
"Cooler than Steve?" I tease, a smile cracking on my face.
"Way cooler," she adds. We giggle at that.
"I saw you guys got stuck in the shed alone together. How'd that go?"
"Awkward as Hell, of course,"
I snort at that. She shifts a bit, causing me to detach from her side.
"You two have been hanging out a lot," she points out, suspicion laced in her voice.
My mouth feels dry, my throat clenches. "Um, yeah... Dustin has taken a liking to him... unfortunately,"
"It's really cool he helped the kids," she says admirably.
I force a smile. I know deep down inside her, there's a part of her that still loves Steve. It's obvious. But I also know Nancy, and the look in her eyes when she's smitten. It's how she used to look at Steve when they first got together, how she looks at Jonathan now.
Nancy is blessed that way. Both Steve and Jonathan would do anything for her. They see her as their world, the beautiful glimmer of something worthwhile in a pile of rubble. Nancy Wheeler is just that kind of girl: the kind of girl you fall in love with.
I can't help but feel jealous. Not because she has two boys wrapped around her finger, but because I know I'll never have a love like that again. I'm already a difficult person to befriend but an impossible one to love. It's a phenomenon that occurs once in a lifetime, and I've already spent it.
The phone on the wall rings, scaring me shitless and startling me from my thoughts. Dustin scrambles to turn it off.
A pit opens up in my stomach and swallows me. Impending doom lingers like a fog over the Byers property. Nancy and I scramble to our feet and convene with the others in the living room.
"Do you think he heard it?"
"Phones could be anywhere,"
"Not just anywhere," I mumble. Then I feel it, this rumble in the earth as if it is trembling over what is to come. My head pounds, and I groan. My ears ring, and I clutch my head in my hands, squeezing it in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.
"Y/N?" Steve calls out.
"It's her powers," Dustin scrambles to sit in front of me, pushing himself between my knees to wipe the blood from under my nose on his sleeve. "Y/N, it's okay, you're okay. I've got you,"
My brother replaces Nancy's place at my side, leaning me against him and allowing me to ride out the pain in his comforting presence.
"It's hurting her," Nancy whines. I try to tell her I'm alright, but I'm far too preoccupied with not vomiting to get any words out. I allow myself to tune out most of the conversation while Dustin explains that he's observed this to happen when my powers are used too frequently. He explains it as if I'm a machine that hasn't been completely shut down in a long time: it overheats and stops functioning at total capacity.
I tap Dustin's hand to get his attention. He stops talking and gives me his attention.
"They will come," I whisper to him. "for him..."
The room falls eerily silent.
Steve and Nancy share a long gaze as if communicating telepathically.
"I'll go get my gun." Nancy grumbles, disappearing into the hallway, leaving Steve to watch her longingly as she goes.