You remember that earlier in the week, Dustin mentioned some movie he was excited to see. Some time travel thing about cars and 80+ miles-per-hour and a boy meeting his parents as teenagers.
The Starcourt Cinema is hosting a late-night premiere showing, so you decide to head over there, hoping there are still tickets left. Maybe you would run into Dustin and Steve and could talk about things.
You drive over to Starcourt and get your ticket just in time as the lights start to dim. You wish you had been a bit earlier to get popcorn and a soda.
There's a disturbance at the front of the theater that comes with lots of shushing, but you don't pay it any mind. The movie has enthralled you.
However, when you see a flash of navy blue, you realize the giggling theatergoers are Steve and Robin.
You glance between the big screen and your friends and ultimately decide to follow them out. You've been trying to get a hold of Steve for days, so it would be stupid not to go talk to him now.
"Steve!" you shout as he's hunched over the water fountain. "I'm so happy to see you. I've been trying to get a hold of you for days, something weird is—holy hell!"
Steve has turned from the fountain and you're shocked to see his face bloodied and bruised. One of his eyes is nearly swollen shut. Yet, he's unfazed by his painful-looking injuries.
"Hey, you!" he says. He stumbles your way and Robin dives for the water fountain.
Steve beams, his soft smile a stark contrast to the bloodied skin around it. His grin makes your heart do a somersault in your ribcage.
"I missed you this week," he says. His smile drops, mouth in a thin line, and speaks with an earnestness you aren't sure you deserve. "But I'm also really, really glad you weren't there."
"Where?" you ask, a bit horrified. "Who did this to you?!"
"It doesn't matter," he says, waving his hand in the air. "But I'm a little bit high, and I—"
"You're high?"
"Yeah," Steve says matter-of-factly. "I was drugged. Anyway—"
"You were drugged?! Jesus Christ, Steve! Do you need to go to the hospital—wait, do you know about the hospital attack? You weren't there for that, were you?"
"I need to tell you something," Steve says, placing a hand on your shoulder. "I really, really like...whoa. Robin, you've gotta check this out!"
He wanders away, staring up at the mall's skylight, leaving you confused and hopeful about whatever the fuck he was about to say.
"The ceiling," he adds. "It's beautiful."
"Oh, wow!" Robin says, starstruck by the sight.
You look between the skylight and your friends. It's just lights and glass—nothing major or special.
Suddenly, each of them grab their stomachs and sprint toward the women's bathroom. You follow, cursing the whole way.
Up comes what looks to be stale popcorn. You grimace but hold Robin's hair back.
"Just let it out, Robin," you say. "It's okay. You're good, you're good. Steve? You okay in there?"
His response comes in the form of gagging and puking.
"Great!" you say, forcing an upbeat, positive tone despite how overwhelmed you're feeling. "Glad you're alive."
Eventually, the two of them stop puking, and you step back from Robin.
"The ceiling stopped spinning for me," Robin says. "Steve, is it still spinning for you?"
"No," he says with a breath of relief. "You think we puked it all up?"
"Puked what up?" you ask. You stand by the sinks, looking into each of their stalls. "The drugs? Who did that to you?!"
Robin clears her throat.
"We probably shouldn't tell you," she says. She gives you an apologetic smile and shrug. "Sorry."
Your stomach drops like a stone. What is it that Steve and Dustin were doing earlier in the week? Hunting for 'evil Russians'? And now, after not seeing them for days, you find Steve beaten horribly and both him and Robin high out of their minds.
There's no way, you think No way they actually got caught by Russians...right?
"Does this have anything to do with your little 'evil Russian investigation' earlier this week?" you add, voice tight.
"I don't think you should get involved," Steve says. He stands too quickly and stumbles. You reach out to grab his shoulders and steady him, feeling warm at how close you two are now standing. "Like Robin said. We can't tell you."
This annoys you to no end, but you don't press.
"Fine," you say. "But vomiting makes you dehydrated, and being dehydrated makes you vomit more. I'm going to get you some water. Stay here."
They promise to stay. As the bathroom door swings shut behind you, you hear Robin ask in a thick, fake Russian accent: "Interrogate me."
The bored-looking employee at the snack stand rings up two waters and a bag of buncha crunch. The candy isn't a necessity for survival, but you hope it'll lift Steve and Robin's spirits.
You start to open the bathroom door with your hip, arms full of snacks, when you hear something that makes you pause:
"So we've established that my taste is exclusively 'duds who can't sing.' I may not be able to make a move on my Muppet-sounding Nashville hopeful, but you can do something about your little crush."
"What crush?" Steve asks, voice level and casual.
"Oh, come on!" Robin says. "You said all that stuff about Waldenbooks, and you aren't even going to make a move?"
"I can't, Robin."
"Why not? Because you're afraid they don't like you back?"
"Yeah, pretty much," Steve says quietly. You have to strain to hear him from the other side of the door. "And I've been burned before. Nancy calling me 'bullshit' and sleeping with another guy when we were technically still together really did a number on me and my confidence."
"And your ability to trust," Robin says, "and your ability to—"
"Okay, we don't have to list all my issues. That's my therapist's job."
"I say you go for it," Robin says. "Worst thing that happens is that they say no."
"Oh, hey! What are you doing here?"
You jump and drop your snacks at the sound of Dustin's voice. He and a younger girl snuck up on you.
"Dustin!" you say, a bit too loud. You're mortified that Steve and Robin now know you were listening. "I was just—"
"Standing outside the bathroom like a creep?" the girl says. You think she's Erica Sinclair, the little sister of Dustin's friend Lucas.
"I'm no creep," you say. "I found Steve and Robin super out of it, and then they got really sick. I'm bringing them provisions."
"Buncha crunch," Dustin says flatly. "The epitome of health food."
You roll your eyes at his sarcasm and step aside so the younger teens can barge into the bathroom (and chastise Stevea nd Robin for running off). You gather the waters and candy and walk in last, eyes on your feet.
"New plan!" Dustin says after you've handed out the waters. "We hide here until the movie ends. Then, we leave with the crowd. We get to your car," he adds, pointing to you, "and then we lay low."
"My car?" you say. "I mean, sure, I can drive you all home, but why can't we just go now?"
"There are commies after us," Erica says. "They're probably watching the exits!"
"The evil Russians!" you say. "Holy shit. They're real?!"
"Very real," Dustin says, ignoring the way Steve shakes his head 'No.'
"Stop!" Steve says. He turns to you. "We aren't getting you involved. You should go back to the movie."
"Uh, Steve?" Robin says. "I agree that it's shitty of us to get Waldenbooks over here into trouble, but we do need a ride home. Unless you can conjure a new set of car keys or bus fare, we're kind of stranded."
Steve sighs.
"Fine," he says. "Only if you're okay with it, we do need a ride home. But really, really dangerous people are following us."
You think of Billy Hargrove and the hospital attack, surprised that the dangers in Hawkins only seem to multiply with each passing day.
"I'll help," you say. "I'm not going to leave you four behind."
"So now, we wait," Dustin says.
A while later, you hear voices as the crowd shuffles out of the theater. Dustin leads you into the throng of people, but a tough-looking soldier blocks the exit checking IDs.
He notices Dustin and scowls.
"Abort!" Dustin hisses.
You all slide down the in-between of the escalators, using the area as a makeshift slide. Once you're on the lower level, you book it to the Great American Cookie booth and hide behind the counter with your friends.
You hear a soldier murmuring into his walkie-talkie, but you don't speak Russian and don't know what he's saying. But he sounds like he's getting closer.
You tremble in fright, fearing it's all going to end. If you do die here, at least you'll see your dad again. If you died here, it wouldn't even matter, because your dad would be waiting for you in whatever comes next.
You resign yourself to being okay with that, but something nags in the back of your mind. He wouldn't want that for you. He would want you to keep living, even though the pain of living without him felt unbearable sometimes.
You bury your head into Steve's shoulder, trying not to think about how the footsteps of the soldiers were getting louder and louder and—
Beep! Beep! Beep!
A car alarm rings through the food court's atrium. Then, you hear a crash and the squeal of metal. And, nothing.
Steve peers over the counter and motions for the rest of you to do the same. The soldiers are dead, thanks to the prize-winning contest car, which is now nestled into the Sbarro.
A group of teenagers stand on the second level, one with her arm outstretched. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Did she just throw that with her mind?!
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