Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

It was a cold night. One normal to anybody.. well, normal. Crickets occupied the rather eerie silence that would wash over the gentle light of the moon along with the wind blowing through trees. Of course, cannot forget the ironic random snap of a branch in the middle of nowhere. 

Just a regular November 6th evening in Hawkins, Indiana. 

Again, for those who are normal. 

Lights brightened and dulled at a sickening pace–already not the most stunning to begin with. Never would anybody ever find a place quieter than the hallway these lights lit. No windows, too far under the ground to hear a thing, thick metal walls and doors only adding to this secluded silence. 

But, nothing lasts forever. The loud beeping alarm made even the air particles jump as one of the many doors were pushed open and left to slam shut. A middle-aged looking man, one with a mustache, a balding spot, a long white coat with his nametag on the front, and a skinny body that helped his frantic emotions–was the only man seeming to understand the level of issue at hand. Or maybe fear. 

The man truly couldn't remember a time he'd run so fast. It made the elevator he called over and over again seem to be going tauntingly slow. Some feeling of relief ran through him when the familiar ding of it arriving sounded. 

He rushed inside, standing in the middle after slamming his fist on one of the buttons to at least shut the doors. As he looked down the hallway of flashing lights and echoing alarms, he paused. Things were quiet despite said alarm. It wasn't right. 

Almost as if he knew. With dread and great hope at the same time, he slowly looked up. Then, his body was yanked up and the elevator doors were quick to close–shutting off his screams of terror from echoing further down the hallway. 

=

"Something's coming. Something's hungry for blood. A shadow grows on the wall behind you, swallowing you in darkness. It is almost here.."

"What is it?"

"What if it's the Demogorgon? Oh, Jesus, we're so screwed if it's the Demogorgon."

"It's not the Demogorgon!" 

"An army of troglodytes charge into the chamber!" 

"Troglodytes?"

"Told ya." 

The group of four laughed–one snorting. Their smiles fell slowly. One with a fluffy–seemingly layered and long bowl cut and dark black hair looking over his shoulder, "Wait a minute... did you hear that? That–that sound.."

Everybody watched him in suspense. 

"Boom.. boom... boom!" He slammed his hands on the table–making the three others jump. He looked at the table his binder shielded, "That didn't come from the troglodytes.. no, that... that came from something else." 

Another boy–this one directly across from the narrator leaned forward, bracing his hands on the table. One of the other two sat up as well–this one with curly hair and a red and blue hat somehow keeping its place upon the fluffiness. 

Suspense was thick in the room. They just wanted to find out what else was coming–why was it taking so long? A metal piece was slammed onto the table, "The Demogorgon!" 

Everybody but the narrator groaned. Things were getting intense–now. First the troglodytes, now the freakin' Demogorgon? The curly one expressed this, "We're in deep shit!" He slammed his hand on the table. 

"Will, your action?!" 

"I don't know!" The one across from the narrator shrugged under pressure frantically. His hair was a soft brown–straight and nearly a perfect bowl cut. 

"Fireball him!" 

"We have to roll a thirteen or higher!" Will motioned to the dice in front of them to the one on his right with voluminous hair that was pure black. 

Curly leaned closer to Will, "Too risky. Cast a protection spell." It sounded more like he was a real-estate agent at this point. 

Volume shook his head. "Don't be a pussy, fireball him!" He shouted, eyes fixated on Will who examined the battle before them. 

"Cast protection," Curly tried again. 

Narrator's hand slammed harshly onto the table, gathering the attention of his fellow soldiers, "The Demogorgon is tired of your silly human bickering! It stops towards you–boom!!" 

"Fireball him!"

"Another stomp–boom!!" 

"Cast protection!" 

"It roars in anger!!" 

Unhinged shouting kept much else being audible. Will gathered the dice in his hand, standing from his spot at the table. Stomach filled with butterflies, he tossed them, "Fireball!!" The two small cubes clattered to the floor. 

Each of their chairs tumbled to the floor as everybody stood up as quickly as their legs could manage. They all rushed to the scene, dropping to the ground in search of the shapes. 

"Where'd it go?!" 

"Was it a thirteen?!" 

"I don't know!" 

"Where are they?!" 

"I don't know!" 

Curly paced around–his hands to the sides of his face. He hadn't felt so anxious since forgetting to feed his cat two weeks ago. "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!" 

"Mike!"

"Can you find it yet?!"

"Mike!"

"No, I can't find it!!" 

"Mike!" 

Narrator's eyes shot up the steps he was searching at the bottom of. The downstairs–gentle lit ambiance was ruined by that of the adults needing to have large lights on at all times. He threw his arms out, "Mom, we're in the middle of a campaign!" 

"You mean the end?" The woman at the top of the stairs sarcastically asked, pointing at her wristwatch. Her hair was a bit past her shoulders and was a mixture of both blonde and brunette–obviously styled. "Fifteen after," She tapped her watch. 

Will jumped to the side, "Oh–sorry, Lucas!" 

Volume scoffed, "I swear I just saw it! Why'd you shove me?!" 

"I didn't mean to!" 

"Freaking idiot!" Lucas shouted in return. 

Will only then remembered he meant to speak, "Why do we have to go?" He asked, not really to anybody in particular. 

Mike began to crawl quickly up the steps as his friends continued searching. He ran by his dad who was trying to fix the TV antennas and into the kitchen. He approached his mom with sass, "Just twenty more minutes!" 

His mom was putting away dinner, looking down at the food she scraped into a bowl, "It's a school night, Mike. I just put Holly to bed. You can finish next weekend." 

Mike looked at his mom with desperation, "But that will ruin the flow!" 

"Michael–!"

"I'm serious, mom!" Mike tried once more. "The campaign took two weeks to plan. How was I supposed to know it was gonna take ten hours?" 

Now, hsi mom turned to him with shock written on ehr features, "You've been playing for ten hours?"

Mike licked his lips, realizing his mistake. He turned and approached his dad instead, "Dad, don't you think that twenty more–"

"I think you should listen to your mother," He motioned to his wife before slapping the side of the TV.

Mike's shoulders dropped as he looked at his mom one more time. She showed no signs of backing down. He figured he may as well back down instead. 

"Oh, I got it!" Will shouted, grabbing the dice and jumping to his feet. "Does a seven count?" 

Lucas looked up from the chairs he was straightening, "It was a seven? Did Mike see it? Then it doesn't count." He and the other two boys gathered their scattered possessions. Each of them pulled on their thick jackets and after, their backpacks dropping over their shoulders as well. 

Both Will and Lucas were quick to hop up a couple of steps before being stopped by Curly. He held up a pizza box, one last slice inside, "Does anybody want this?" 

"No."

"All yours, Dustin." 

Dustin watched as they both went all the way up the steps. He stood there for a moment, looking around and back at the pizza. He was going to just drop it off on the counter upstairs until he remembered Mike had siblings. 

So instead, Curly took the box with him upstairs and by Mike's parents that paid no mind to him going one more floor up. Only turning once, he was approaching the open bedroom. 

"No, I don't think... yeah, he's cute, but..... Barb, no. I don't think so.."Mike's older sister laid in her bed, phone to her ear and twisting the cord around her index finger in awe. 

Dustin said nothing as he waved his hand around in an attempt to catch her attention. She only rolled onto her stomach, continuing to talk about her mystery man. "Hey, Nancy," He said, continuing to hold his hand up. 

Nancy turned to him, the blue phone that matched her pajamas and complimented her dark brown hair almost perfectly still against her ear. 

"There's a slice left if you want it," Dustin offered, motioning to the pizza box in his hand. He opened it with a sweet smile, "Sausage and pepperoni!" 

"Hold on," Nancy rolled her eyes. She put the phone down and stood from her bed. She offered him a returning smile before slamming the door in his face without a word really being spoken to him.

Dustin closed the box and made a face of disgust while turning on his heel. "One more slice left, Mrs. Wheeler. Thanks for letting us come," He smiled as he passed by Mike's parents. He already knew the other Wheeler wasn't listening. He made his way outside where he found his friends getting positioned on their bikes, Mike standing alongside them, "There's something wrong with your sister." 

"What're you walking about?" Mike crossed his arms. 

Dustin pulled his bike up as well, "She's got a stick up her butt." 

Lucas held back a smile at the comment. He recalled the quickly spread news at school, "Yeah, it's because she's been dating that douchebag, Steve Harrington. His hair sucked the brain out of his numb head." 

"Well she's being a real jerk," Dustin hopped on his bike. 

Mike looked disgusted as he threw his arms out, "She's always been a real jerk!" 

Dustin looked over his shoulder at him, turning on his bike light, "Nuh-uh, she used to be cool. Like when she dressed up as an elf for our Elder tree campaign."

"Four years ago!" Mike shouted after him as he rode off, Lucas following in his tracks with a  quick 'later'.

Will hung back, still next to Mike. "It was a seven," He shrugged. 

Mike turned to him, "Huh?"

"The roll, it was a seven," Will nodded. "The Demogorgon. It got me." He put his foot on the petal of his bike and with a small grunt, he pushed himself off, "See you tomorrow." As he rolled from the garage, the lights along it flickered twice. 

MIke paid no mind to it. He glanced at Will's figure once more before approaching the lightswitch and shutting them off. He shivered before heading back inside where his mom nagged him to clean up their campaign, "Okay, mom!" He rolled his eyes as he started down the steps again, shutting the door from the headache inducing lights. 

Lucas was always the first one to get home, being the one closest to Mike's house. "Goodnight, ladies!" He bid them his goodbye before turning into his driveway. 

"Wanna race to my place?" Dustin smiled. "Winner gets a comic."

"Any comic?" Will confirmed. 

With slight hesitation, Dustin nodded, "Yeah."

Will smiled, standing on his pedals to move quicker. 

"Hey! Hey!" Dustin shouted after him, following his motions in an attempt to catch back up. His hair was blown back around his ears as he picked up the pace, "I didn't say go! Get back here! I'm gonna kill you!" He was surprised at how quick Will was moving. 

"I'll take your X-Men 134!" Will shouted back as he rolled by Dustin's house and on to his own. 

Dustin rolled to a stop, leaning on his bike seat with deep breaths. He watched Will roll further down the street, "Son of a bitch." 

Will always found peace in riding alone. Not that he hated being with his friends–lord no. Far from it, actually. At first, he was weary of it, but now he loves it. He took the time to pick out small details that really weren't important whatsoever. 

Now, the signs on the fence he passed by daily didn't even bother him. 'No Trespassing. U.S Government Property.' As well as, 'Hawkins National Laboratory. U.S Department of Energy.' 

His shoulders sagged lightly when his bike light went out momentarily. He'd have to find a different bulb when he gets home. Will looked down at it, checking for any more issues before remembering to keep checking ahead of him. 

It felt like his heart jumped up his throat. A tall and lanky figure stood in the road–not even ten feet from him if he were to guess. Filled with shock and fear, he didn't even focus on handling his bike as he rolled off the road and into the fallen autumn leaves. 

Slowly, heart pounding, he pushed himself up. His eyes were focused on the figure that stared back at him. The noises it made were that of which he'd never heard before–not even in a campaign. With a noise of fear, he just ran. 

His back was turned to the creature as he weaved through trees and attempted to doge any branches. It was a good thing he knew the area well–he could find his way home easily. Then his brother could help. 

His veins were still thick with adrenaline as he approached his home–beyond glad to see the porch lights on. His heart only grew heavier as he shut the door behind him. "Mom? Jonathan?" He spoke over his dog's barking, checking each room in the house when he heard not even a shuffle. He grew more frantic, "Mom?!" 

Jonathan's room was empty too. Quickly, he ran back to the front of the house, pulling the blinds apart from one another and peeking outside. His eyes searched everywhere through the god–past the drying racks. Fear struck him again when the figure showed itself again. 

Shutting the blinds, he moved to the telephone, pulling the phone off its holder and moving to dial any number he had memorized. The phone rang twice, "Hello? Hello?" His breath caught in his throat when the line went static and a sort of... cry was heard. 

Looking around the wall, with the phone still to his ear, Will's eyes stared at the window in the front door. The growling from before returned as a shadow crossed the window. The lock on the door he can't even recall locking moved on its own. 

Will dropped the phone and ran again. He yanked open the back door, not caring about the obvious sound of a hole puncturing into the wall as he rushed to the shack outside. He quickly got inside and pulled on the line to the single bulb from the ceiling. With shaky hands, he ripped open a box of bullets and began to load them into the shotgun he got from the corner. 

He cocked it quickly. His breathing didn't seem to be calming anytime soon. It was nearly impossible for him to even think about holding the gun still. It ran through his mind–well, it was a big target anyway. 

The growling was louder this time. Closer. It wasn't in front of him. He turned around, looking u at the creature. He couldn't put into words as to what it could be. It was out of this word. He forgot he had a gun–his mind was just blank. 

The single lightbulb grew brighter. And brighter. And brighter until it went dead silent. The crickets even dared not to chirp anymore. Any animal nearby suddenly knew exactly how to avoid each branch. Even gravity kept anything from falling in a spot to create noise. 

Then, Will was gone. 

=

"And that's it for News Center this morning. Thanks for joining us. Let's head on down to Liz at the news desk." "All right, thank you, Donna. Turning it down to local news, we're getting reports of surges and power outages all across the county. Last night, hundreds of homes in East Hawkins were affected, leaving many residents in the dark. The cause of the outage is still unknown.." 

The news never seems to stop talking. 

It was a rather nice morning for the residents of Hawkins. Everybody was going to work, students were going to school, some housewives were cleaning, dogs were barking about. It's what usually wakes up the late night partiers. Or rather, hungover cops. 

The chief awoke with a groan. While he did enjoy the sun, it wasn't a great thing to have shone in your eyes while your brain is sore from alcohol. It was, however, quite lovely to wake up to a lake in autumn. 

Cigar smoke rose into the sky as the chief leaned onto the railing on his porch. His eyes examined his surroundings as they did every morning and as per usual, nothing was different. 

"You told me you'd quit passing out on the couch." 

"Shit.. sorry. I uh.. forgot," He turned, looking down the porch steps at his daughter who stood with a look of concern. He brushed her off, "I'm fine. I just can;t do the same thing over and over again." 

"There's better things to do than that, Chief," (Y/N) mocked. She sighed and smiled up at him, "But it's whatever. I gotta be heading off, though." 

Hopper nodded, "Good kid! I don't know when I'll be home tonight–haven't checked in to see what I got goin' for me." He zipped up his pants and buttoned them back up before redoing his belt. He pulled the cigar from his mouth, "Prolly be late, though." 

He always felt bad having to rarely ever really see his daughter. She meant a lot to him, but he's a chief. At least he didn't think she really minded too much. She's a seventeen year old who has the house to herself almost all of the time, not paying bills for it or anything–how bad could it really be? Plus, he did try to spend as much time with her as he could. 

"It's fine, dad," (Y/N) practically read his mind. "You can't help it–I understand. It's okay." She hopped up the steps. 

Hopper smiled and put his head down. He tossed aside his cigar and opened his arms lightly. (Y/N) smiled as well and gladly took him up on the silent offer. With one more squeeze, they let go and (Y/N) made her way to her car. Hopper leaned back against the railing once more, "You going to that Byers kid?" 

(Y/N) nodded, opening her car door, "Yeah. I offered him a ride since he has to get his car realigned today. And yes, he's lending me gas money." She lied. 

For a long time she was friends with Jonathan. He was always a really nice guy—hard working too. One deserving of respect. Knowing him so long, (Y/N) was aware of his single-mom. She's a hardworking woman too. The last thing they needed was to pay for gas they aren't using up. 

Hopper nodded, "Drive safe, please."

"I will, dad. I'll see you when I do!" (Y/N) offered him another smile as she got in her car and started it up. The radio was already blasting popular music of the day as she pulled away from home. 

Hopper watched her car disappear in the trees for a moment longer before shivering and heading inside.

=

The scent of bacon filled the smell of the house. The sizzling on the pan was always a comforting noise. For whatever given reason. A scoff sounded, "Ugh! Where the hell are they? Jonathan!" 

"Check the couch!" 

"I did!" Joyce shroud, running her hands in between the couch cushions once more. She perked up when her hands brushed over the familiar pointiness of her keys. She grasped them and made her way into the kitchen, "Got them!" 

She scrambled to grab a light jacket as well as her bag of various possessions. Her hair was as it was everyday–lightly curled and only slightly static. She approached her eldest son, "Okay, sweetie, I will see you tonight." 

"Yeah, see you later," Jonathan didn't move his eyes from the edges and bascon he plated. 

Joyce paused, wanting to make sure everything was as it was, "Where's will?" 

"Oh, I didn't get him up yet," He now looked over his shoulder at his mom. "He's probably still sleeping. 

Joyce dropped her arms to her sides with a sigh, "Jonathan, you have to make sure he's up!"

"Mom, I'm making breakfast." 

Joyce rechecked her bags as she rushed down the hall. With a clap of her hands, she approached Will's bedroom, "Will! C'mon, honey!" She pushed through the cracked door, "It's time to get up–" She was shocked to see his room in its usual clear state. His bed was made, but his covers didn't look like they were touched. Spinning around, she made her way back down the hall, "He came home last night, right?"

Jonathan glanced at her, "He's not in his room?"

Joyce ignored his question, "Did he come home or not?"

"I don't know," Jonathan shrugged. 

"You don't know?"

"No," He began to feel his nerves rising. He couldn't keep up with his words, "I-I-I was working—I got home late." He was upset he couldn't manage his stammering. 

"You were working?" Joyce repeated. 

Jonathan couldn't look at his mom, "Eric asked if I could cover—and I had to find a ride to school. I didn't want to spend money for the bus because I thought we needed extra cash."

Joyce felt guilty. Jonathan was a very caring son—she was beyond grateful for him. But her little boy wasn't home. She tried to take a deep breath, "Jonathan, we talked about this."

"I know, I know," Jonathan avoided eye contact. He should've at least called to say he wouldn't be home, "I should've called Mrs. Wheeler or something.. that's probably where he is. They had their campaign last night."

Joyce shook her head lightly as she made her way to the telephone. She pulled it off its holder and up to her ear, quickly dialing the Wheeler's number. 

"Hello?"

"Hi, Karen. It's Joyce," She put on a smile to sound polite. 

Karen smiled, "Oh Joyce, hi."

Joyce could hear a faint 'what the hell, Mike' in the background. It made her thankful that her son's got along. Mike's voice was faint as well—sounding as if he were defending himself, "Was that Will I heard back there?" She needed an excuse to sound more casual. 

"Will? No, no, no, it's just Mike," Karen shook her head. 

"Will didn't spend the night..?" Joyce's heart sank—Jonathan's following suit. 

"No, he left here a little bit after eight." Coleen washed over Karen, "Why? He's not home?"

"Um.. you know what? I think he just left early... for school. Thank you so much," Joyce spoke quickly. She was only on the line a moment longer to hear a quick goodbye from Karen before hanging up. Her hand fell over her mouth.

Jonathan was frozen. It was dead silent 

Until muffled music sounded outside. 

Jonathan looked through the window, "Shit. (Y/N)'s here.."

"Well.. go on to school, then," Joyce managed. She motioned to the door. 

"I'm not going."

"Jonathan..."

"I'm not going! I don't know where Will is, I'm not going," Jonathan shook his head with raised brows. While he was hoping everything was just a big overreaction, it didn't mean it felt any better. Especially since he should've been home for him. 

Their eyes jumped to the door when three knocks sounded upon it, followed by a small, "Jonny?"

Jonathan and Joyce gave each other looks of concern. Joyce took a small breath before heading for the door. She opened it slightly with a smile, "(Y/N), hi!"

(Y/N) smiled in return, "Hi, Ms. Byers! I thought you'd be off at work already, everything okay?" 

"Oh," Joyce let out a breathy laugh. "Jonathan and Will came down with a cold, I need to stay and take care of them." 

"..Jonathan is allowing you to stay home from work... to take care of him and Will who he takes care of on a regular basis.. right...." (Y/N) eyed Joyce with confusion and slight concern. 

Joyce held up a weary smile, not moving. She only blinked before scoffing and handing her head. She shook her head, "I can't lie to you. Come inside." Opening the door, she stepped to the side. 

(Y/N)'s concern only grew. Despite this, she didn't hesitate to enter the well-known home. She approached Jonathan, standing next to him and eyeing his expression with concern. She laughed slightly, "You guys are worrying me... should I.. be worried?"

Joyce and Jonathan glanced at one another Jonathan sighed and shrugged, "Probably.. I guess. We don't really know what's going on..." 

Joyce winced, "We don't know where Will is.."

"....what?!"

=

Hawkins Middle School was becoming more and more full as time went on. Some parents dropped off their kids, other students were glad to be driving themselves, buses coming to a stop with open doors, and some students walked onto the grounds. Popular students were somewhat glad to be back while others were filled with anxiety. 

Lucas, Dustin, and Mike all pushed their bikes into their practically assigned bike holders. Mike looked around after seeing the one empty spot on the rack, "That's weird. I don't see him."

"I'm telling you," Lucas began. "His mom's right. He probably just went to class early again." 

They began their strides toward the school building. Dustin nodded in agreement, "Yeah, he's always paranoid Grusky's gonna give him another pop quiz."

"Step right up, ladies and gentlemen. Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show," A boy approached with short, only slightly wavy dark brown hair and a small red jacket. Behind him was another boy wearing yellow with lighter brown hair that's curly–nowhere near as curly as Dustin's, though. The one on the red side glanced at his buddy, "Who do you think would make more money in a freak show?"

Walking toward them, the kid balled up his fist. He jammed it into Lucas' chest, "Midnight?" He moved to Mike, doing the same to him, "Frogface?" Then he shoved Dustin, "Or Toothless?"

The boy in yellow put a hand to his chin in overdramatic thought. He examined the three, pointing at each one slowly. Forcing a lisp, he looked at Dustin with a grin, "I'd go with Toothless." 

"I told you a million times, my teeth are coming in," Dustin said in annoyance. "It's called cleidocranial dysplasia."

Continuing his fake lisp, yellow shirt leaned forward, "I told you a million times." He chuckled as he stood back up. 

Red jacket motioned to Dustin, "Do the arm thing."

When Dustin showed obvious signs of not wanting to, yellow shirt glared at him, "Do it, freak."

With a sigh, Dustin dropped his bookbag. His jacket followed suit. His hands clasped together before he stretched his arms out–his shoulders dropping inward. The sound of bones cracking makes the two bullies groan in disgust. Red jacket snickered, "It gets us every time." They laughed once more before shoving through the three. 

Lucas scoffed, hands in his pockets, "Assholes." 

"I think it's kinda cool," Mike retorted. He slowly turned, looking over his shoulder as Dustin gathered his things, "It's like you have superpowers or something. Like Mr. Fantastic." 

They continued walking once Dustin stood back up. He put his book bag back on, "Except I can't fight evil with it."

Further along the way, the high school was decently more silent. Less bullying occured here–most of them matured enough to leave other people alone. The only buses that ever stopped at the highschool were filled with very few people. Almost everybody was driving themselves. 

Nancy Wheeler was a poster-girl. She was beautiful–truly. She dressed cute, but casual. She lived in a nice neighborhood in a three story house. Boys fawned at her. Girls doing so in silence. In most eyes, Nancy Wheeler was perfect. In their defense, she usually is. 

"So, did he call?" Barbra, a sweet girl with a big heart asked as she approached Nancy in the hallway. They both held their binders in their arms as they walked. Barb was what people considered average–some even daring to say she's below the mark. 

But Barb was a beautiful girl as well. Her hair was short and toned a gentle red mistaken for brown on some occasions. She was around an average height–maybe a bit taller. 

Nancy smiled, but was quick to wipe it off of her features, "Keep your voice down."

Quieter this time, Barb leaned in, "Did he~?"

"I told you," Nancy tried. "It's not like that." She kept looking in front of her so as to not bump into anybody. She smiled softly, "Okay, I mean, yes. He likes me–but not like that. We just.." They approached Nancy's locker. "Made out a couple times." 

Leaning against the lockers, Barb made her tone to match Nancy's, "We just... made out a couple times." She looked around in awe mockingly before smiling and looking back at Nancy, "Nance, seriously. You're popular now enough–you're gonna be so cool now, it's ridiculous." 

Nancy turned to her with a smile of denial, "No, I'm not."

Barb didn't fall for it, "You better still hang out with me, that's all I'm saying." She shrugged, "You become friends with Tommy H. or Carol–"

"Oh, that's gross," Nancy cut her off, finally opening her locker. "Okay, I'm telling you, it was a one-time.. two-time thing." She put her binder inside with a smile. She had butterflies in her stomach just thinking about her previous make out sesh. Pausing for a moment, her eyes fell onto the lined slip of paper at the bottom of her locker. 

She picked it up gently and unfolded it. She couldn't help but smile brighter at the name she peeked at. 

'Meet me. Bathroom - Steve'

"You were saying?" Barb tilted her head. 

Nancy slowly looked at her, unable to bite her smile down. 

Nancy's back came in contact with the cold brick wall of the bathroom. Her breath was caught in her throat as her hands roamed his shoulders. His arms had her locked to the wall–the only thing able to really move between them was their lips against each other. 

Their breathing was heavy as they only pulled away from one another for barely a second. Maybe not even that. Nancy's hands fell onto his chest as she leaned her head back more than it already was, "Steve." 

Steve responded with a slight hum, moving to his her neck. The most popular guy in school–Steve Harrington. Certified douche. His hair was a bit longer than average and a dark silky brown. Admittedly, when ignoring bits of his personality, he's an attractive guy. The type that makes people do a double-take. 

"I have to go.." Nancy breathlessly spoke. Her hands grasped his shoulders as she weakly tried pushing him away. 

"In a minute," Steve muttered, one of his hands moving onto Nancy's hip. 

The bell rang, bouncing off of the walls in the halls and bathrooms. Glancing at her watch, Nancy got jitters, "Steve. I really–" She was cut off with a kiss. "I really–" Another kiss. "Seriously. I have to go," She crouched down quickly, grabbing her things she'd carelessly dropped. 

Steve lowered himself as well, picking up the bag Nancy was going for, "Wait, wait, wait. Let's do something tonight, then."

Nancy shook her head lightly, "No, I can't. I have to study for Kaminsky's test." She held her binder tight, worried she would already end up being late. Normally, she was one of the first five students. 

Steve leant against the wall with a hand on his hip. Thinking sarcastically, he looked around, "Oh, come on. What's your GPA again? 3.999.."

With a smile, Nancy yanked her bag back, "The only person who ever gets a perfect score on his tests is (Y/N). They're impossible." 

"Well, then, just let me help," Steve tried.

Nancy tilted her head slightly, "You failed Chem."

Steve continued to avoid her attempts to take her bag back, "C-minus." 

"Well in that case.." Nancy smiled.

"So, I'll be over around.. eight?" Steve shrugged, holding up the bag he took. 

"Are you crazy? My mom would not–"

"I'll climb through your window," Steve cut her off, not wanting to give her another reason to bail on him. He shrugged again, "She won't even know I'm there. I'm stealthy, like a ninja." 

Nancy eyed him. When they weren't earring each other's faces, he could be a charming guy, "You are crazy." She began to walk by him before his hand gently grasped her arm. 

Steve peered at her with gentle eyes, still leaning on the wall, "Just... okay, forget about that. We can just, like, chill in my car." He put his hands on her shoulders when she took slow steps toward him, "We can find a nice quiet place to park, and.."

Nancy stared at him with stern eyes. She shook her head, "Steve. I have to study. I'm not kidding."

Pausing for a moment, Steve furrowed his brows together, "Why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?"

The stern look Wheeler wore faltered. She couldn't hold back her smile any longer, "You're an idiot, Steve Harrington." She turned and made her way to the locked door. Stopping suddenly, she turned to look at him, "Meet me at Dearborn and Maple at eight." The smile on her face fell, one of joyous sternness growing, "To study." 

Steve nodded slightly as he watched her leave. The bell rang again. He quickly dipped down to pick up the yellow bag of his basketball attire. Checking the mirror and adjusting his hair a bit, he went on his way. 

The halls were only slightly occupied by those that wanted to get to class as late as possible. He himself usually wasn't out this long, but he was willing to make a sacrifice every once in a while. As he walked into class, multiple students sitting up front gave him a smile and few offered him a 'handshake'.

As usual, his eyes scanned the classroom–just liking to know who all was around. The seat to the right of him was empty. His brows furrowed as he sat down. Usually, it would be occupied. With a small sigh, he just ignored it. About like he did everything. 

Class went on as it usually did; teacher asking for participation, students getting in trouble for sleeping, students doodling instead of learning, and the students' hopes getting up anytime the telephone would ring in hopes they'd be able to go home. Dreadful, really. Not only that, but they still had an hour left of class. 

All eyes moved to the door when it opened quickly. 

"Ms. Hopper, you finally decided to show up."

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Marvy. Something.. came up..." (Y/N) hesitated. She averted her gaze, shuffling awkwardly in front of everybody, "Can I sit down?" 

With a scoff, Mrs. Marvy nodded, "Go on."

Quickly, (Y/N) weaved through the desks, barely missing other students. She sat down quickly, pulling out her notebook not so gracefully. When she pulled a pen from her bag pocket, she glanced to the side with a nasty look. 

"What a rebel," Steve teased, twirling his pencil around in his hand. 

"How many times do I need to tell you to leave me alone?" (Y/N) muttered, leaning on her palm. 

"I don't listen well," Steve shrugged in response. 

For a long time now, he and (Y/N) have known each other. They only ever really paid –or were friends–to one another in elementary school. Middle school was when Steve's popularity began to sprout. It made them drift away. 

Though, (Y/N) always noticed him. While he was popular and on everybody's minds, she was the opposite. Before, she hated that, but now, she was grateful she wasn't in the light. It did make her feel like a bit of an outcast, though.

(Y/N) raised her brows with sass, "I can tell."

The teacher continued speaking. Each minute felt like ten. As usual, Steve just looked around the classroom and only occasionally paid attention. Everything was as it always was until he looked to the side by the ground. His brows furrowed. 

Most of the time with how focused on her work, (Y/N) would barely budge the whole class. She was one of the few that would actually focus. But currently, her leg was bouncing at a shocking rate. The only other time she ever did that was during tests. 

His eyes moved up to her face, expecting her eyes to have been on the board. Instead, they were staring at her desk. Something was wrong and he could tell. That's saying something. Rolling his eyes, he decided to ignore it. Instead he figured he could think about Nancy instead. 

=

"Good of you to show."

"Oh, hey, morning, Flo," Hopper slurred out as he walked by his rather sassy coworker. Turning through the first doorway, he saw the men he worked with on a daily basis, "Morning, everybody."

One of his men turned in their chair, "Hey, chief." He was taken back by how rough he looked. Office Powell was the one who decided not to speak up about it. 

"Damn! You look like hell, chief," One of the other ones spoke up. Officer Callahan decided against keeping his mouth shut. 

"Oh yeah?" Hopper asked, walking by the two. "Well, I looked better than your wife when I left her this morning." He earned vocal laughter from both Powell and Callahan, each of them shaking their heads slightly. 

Flo stood from her desk in the front and quickly approached Hopper who'd stopped at the coffee maker, "As if your daughter would allow that." She scoffed and took the cigar from his mouth, "While you were drinking or sleeping or whatever it is you deemed so necessary on Monday morning, Phil Larson called. Said some kids are stealing the gnomes from his garden again."

Hopper resisted rolling his eyes in front of the stern woman, "Oh, those garden gnomes again. I'll tell you what, I'm gonna get right on that." He took a donut from the pink box next to the sugar. 

"On a more pressing matter," Flo followed him. "Joyce Byers can't find her son this morning."

"Mmm," Hopper hummed. "Okay, I'm gonna get on that. Just give me a minute." 

"Joyce is very upset," Flo continued. 

"Flo, we've discussed this. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation." 

Flo nodded, "Yes, chief. But she's already in you–"

"Coffee and contemplation, Flo!" Hopper continued to walk away from her, blocking out just about everything she said. Flo stopped and put a hand up. She decided not to speak to him anymore–he should figure it out on her own. 

Hopper continued on his way, turning back down the hallway to head for his office. The door was already open as opposed to its usual closed state. He slowed his pace when he saw a messy Joyce Byers sitting in the chair before his desk, cigar in hand. 

She stood up quickly, turning to him. Her hands played with one another, nerves riding up her body, "I have been waiting here over an hour, Hopper." She explained as he walked by her and sat at his desk. 

Hopper scoffed as he took his hands off of the typewriter. He held them out as he looked at her, "And I apologize again."

"I'm going out of my mind!" Joyce stammered, her arms flailing. 

"Look, boy his age, he's probably just playing hookie, okay?" Hopper's tone raised as he dropped his hand harshly on his desk. He tried not to get too angry, but hungover and worried mothers never mixed well. 

"No!" Joyce said immediately after. She shook her head, "Not my Will. He's not like that–he wouldn't do that."

Hopper looked away, "Well, you never know. I mean, my mom thought I was on the debate team when really I was just screwing Chrissy Carpenter." He shrugged, seeming not to be ashamed to admit it. 

Joyce looked disgusted at him, "Look, he's not like you, Hopper. He's not like me. He's not like.. Most. He only has a couple of friends–they make fun of him, they're mean. They make fun of his clothes." She rambled slightly. 

"His clothes? What's wrong with his clothes?" 

"I don't know," Joyce shrugged with a raised tone. "Does that matter?! Look, he's a sensitive kid. Lonnie.." She scoffed. "Lonnie used to say he was queer. Call him a.. bad word."

"Is he?" Hopper asked, now mostly curious. 

Joyce shook her head, "He's missing is what he is!"

They'd gone silent for a moment, Hopper leaning back in his chair as Joyce sat down. He sighed, "How long has it been since you saw Lonnie?"

Shrugging lightly, Joyce tried to think about it, "Uh, last I heard.. he was in Indianapolis. About a year ago." She was quick to catch her words, "But he has nothing to do with this."

Sitting up in his seat, Hopper picked up a pen and opened one of his desk drawers. He found a small notepad with yellow-lined paper occupying it. Clicking the pen open, he glanced at Joyce, "Why don't you give me his number?"

"You know, Hopper, he has nothing to do with this," Joyce tried. She sounded stern in an attempt to convince him, "Trust me. Will wouldn't go back to him anyway."

"Joyce," Hopper raised his voice. "Ninety-nine of a hundred times a kid goes missing, the kid is with a parent or relative.

Stammering, Joyce glanced away momentarily, "W-what about the other time?"

"What?"

"You said, ninety-nine out of a hundred–what about the other time?" She repeated. 

"Joyce."

"The one!"

"Joyce, this is Hawkin's okay?" Hopper sounded more calm–especially after hearing her tired sigh. "You wanna know the worst thing that's ever happened here?" He asked. "The four years I've been working here–the worst thing was when an owl attacked Elanor Gillespie's head because it thought that her hair was a nest." 

Joyce leaned forward after a long pause. Her eyes were still wide–as they were the entire time she'd been there, "What if this was you?"

Hopper rubbing his face, "What're you talking about?"

"What if.." She trailed off. Her eyes looked back up to his, "What if (Y/N) went missing, huh? This would be a different story." 

"She isn't gonna go missing," Hopper sighed. 

"What if she did, though? You mean to tell me that you wouldn't be worried not one bit? That she'd be with a relative and not tell you?" Joyce's calm tone faltered. 

Hopper was silent for a moment before he waved his arms in front of him slightly, "That's not–"

"Stop making excuses!" Joyce shouted. She slammed her hand on the desk as she stood up, "My son is missing! Nobody knows where he is–please, Hopper." She sat back down, desperation written on her face. 

Hopper examined her for a moment. He looked away and swallowed hard, "Call Lonnie." 

"Okay, fine. I will call Lonnie. He will talk to me before he talks to–"

"What, a pig?" Hopper cut her off with a bland joke to match his bland expression. 

"A cop!" Joyce continued in frustration. Her voice wavered again, this time with sorrow rather than anger, "Just find my son, Hopper. Please." 

Hopper leaned back in his chair. 

=

Men in suits or lab coats were the only ones who ever really entered the building. At least without being stopped at all. It was a tall building–one looking to be locked from the inside out. No windows anywhere except for on the doors. 

Three cars came to a subtle stop at the main entrance. Their windows were tinted and they were practically a mirror with how clean they are. Stepping out of nearly every door were men in suits carrying briefcases. They looked important and rich. One man in gray was the first one to speak, "Dr. Brenner."

The man being identified as this Dr. Brennar was a man with a dark cloth coat, standing outside and waiting for them. His hair was short and white–it showed his age as opposed to the lack of wrinkles on his face. He shook the man's hand firmly before leading them inside with a moment's hesitation. 

The receptionist only glanced up at them and nodded slightly in respect as they entered and walked by. The man in black lead them through the large room to a hall busy with people rushing by. 

A man in a white coat approached them–obviously a scientist. He was nearly bald and had thin glasses. Most of the hair on his head took place on his face–it had multiple shades of gray. He walked faintly behind Brenner, "The entire east wing will be evacuated within the hour. We've sealed off this area following quarantine protocol." 

They approached a hallway with plastic acting as the door. Two guards stood at it. There was an orange hazard sign on the plastic directly next to the zipper one of the guards reached for. They unzipped it and stood back stiffly. 

The group of important men walked through and the plastic was zipped up again. They were all led to a brightly lit room that has yellow suits inside as well as oxygen tanks. Each of them undressed and changed into their suits. There were belts and for the part that went over the head, was a plastic window. Everybody helped one another get hooked up to oxygen–everybody but Dr. Brenner. Their gloves were even taped down. 

Against the wall was a large metal box. It was already unlocked as one of the men opened it and began to hand his men guns. They were already loaded and just in need of being cocked. Everything was gathered quickly before the men left the room and ventured back down the closed-off hallway. 

Only a couple of turns until they reached the heavily boarded elevator that had the call button clicked immediately. Each man stopped inside and faced the door. Their hands were at their sides and holding their guns tightly. None of them would show they were afraid, but they felt it in their stomachs. It was their job, though. 

The elevator only had humming to surge out the silence. Yet it was still so loud. Each time it shook even a little bit, Brenner would glance around what he could see. It came to a stop with a not-so-graceful landing and the doors opened right after. 

The hallway was pitch black before the men turned on their flashlights and shone them around. They slowly stepped out of the metal box with their guns turned up and pointing wherever their flashlight went. Only one light at the end of the hall dared to flicker. It made an unsettling noise as it did–almost like metal scraping metal aggressively. It echoed through the halls. 

Despite the eeriness of this, the men went to it. The hall they turned down  was still metal, but its texture was that of hard mesh. One side of the wall appeared to be burnt in unusual places and the door next to it was already opened. 

As the men neared the burned parts, it looked more to be of goop. It was wet and looked sticky. A dark color, too. Not only that, but it seemed to be moving just in the slightest as if it were a human's chest rising with each breath. 

Odd sounds were faint in their ears, coming from the opened room. Inside of the room was a large board with all sorts of buttons anybody could only dream of knowing what they did. Around four computers were sitting around it–shut off and already dusty. 

Beyond the board of buttons was a glass wall. There was only one entry point to the other side and that was through a tiny room that had vents along the bottom. The men's lights shone through the glass and at the opposing wall.

The air along the other side was much dirtier than their own. It had various sized bits of who knows what floating in the air. It almost looked like thin paper or possibly–if anybody loved the idea–little bits of skin. 

Low growling came from the other side. It wasn't a secret to the men as to what specifically it came from–at this point, it was almost telling you. One word wouldn't describe it. Eerie? Too simple. Dark? Meh. Terrifying? A bit better. 

It was like a hole in the wall, but nothing in this world. It was slimy and had what looked like tentacles covering from one side to the other and crawling out of it. What's worse, is that everything looked to be pulsating as well. Like a heart. Beyond the strings that acted as a fence, right inside the gash, was a glow of red. It was faint, but there. 

It was messy. Dark colors aligned the area. Nobody could tell if it was from the goo or the vine-like things that covered and crawled out of it. It was indescribable. Amazing. 

Amazingly terrifying. 

"This is where it came from?" One man–we can call the first one–spoke up. 

Another one nodded–probably considered the second, "Yes."

Man, one couldn't take his eyes off of it, "And the girl?"

Dr. Brenner's window was fogged up already, "She can't have gone far."

=

Mornings are most people's favorite time of the day. It's when everything is waking up and everybody is preparing for the day. Restaurateurs get up significantly earlier than most other people–having to buy new produce, clean up, and start up the place in general. 

The birds sang in the morning more than they ever do at any other point. Maybe it's only because everything is still so quiet. The sun was gentle on all of the trees and fallen leaves that crunched under bare feet. 

Eyes shot in every direction, finding something new every time they moved. It was beautiful. A wince occasionally sounded when she'd step on something too sharp. Her skin was dirty as well as the hospital gown with a hole torn in the bottom. 

In the distance, she saw a building–one very different from her home. It looked more run-down, but clean at the same time. It had no fence around it and there was even at least one window on each wall. She came to a sudden stop when the screen door opened. 

Out came another person. This man had on an apron, casual blue jeans, and a pale yellow shirt. He had very little hair on his head–almost similar to her own–and a lot of hair on his jawline. He held a black back and walked to the side of the building, tossing it into a metal container she didn't recognize. 

She watched a moment longer as he walked back inside and shut the door again. Slowly, she started toward it. As she got closer, she heard tunes playing faintly. It sounded nice. Carefully, she opened the doors despite their creaking before quietly going inside. 

There were shelves stocked with multiple canned-good and different spices she couldn't dream of understanding what they meant. The music got louder as she walked through and came upon an open entryway along with another door to its side. 

"All right," A man's voice rang out. "And one more." It was the same man from earlier. He sounded like any other person she'd heard, but less... uptight?

There were more people inside. They were sitting at tables in clothes that weren't nearly similar to what she's used to. They looked lose. One man at the table had white hair and a blue hat on, "Hey, Ben. What do you think about that, uh.."

The man she assumed to be Ben threw his arms up slightly, "Hey, I don't know. I don't know." He placed them back on his hips. 

"I don't know, thirty-seven pointer per game average–"

"Thirty-seven now, heh." 

She made her way through the open entryway and to a set of doors side by side. They had a square window in them and they were gray. She pushed them open, walking inside. Her head turned as she scanned her new surroundings. Something smelled good. 

She followed the smell around this metal area in the middle of the room, finding a basket sitting upon it. There were yellow-like things inside of it. Slight steam rose from them. Hesitantly, she reached for them and put one in her mouth. She paused and glanced through the window above her at the men. She looked back down and continued eating. 

Ben laughed at the man's comment, wiping his hands on his apron. He turned to look at his other customers in search of a motion for service. His eyes moved to his kitchen where he saw a shaved person with their head down. "Hey!" 

His loud voice made her jump. He glared at her, "Come here!" She grabbed the basket containing her snack and went for the doors quickly. Just when she slipped through them, Ben came around the corner and was quick on her tail. 

Her mind convinced her she would make it–her eyes were on the sunlight, but the firm hands that grabbed her arms washed all of her hope away. She was turned around aggressively, now eye-to-eye with Ben. He looked mad, "You think you can steal from me, boy?"

She couldn't say anything. She just stared at him with heavy breaths and a pounding heart. 

"What in the hell?" Ben muttered, now a bit worried about the child stealing from him. In the disheveled state they were, they didn't look like any thug he'd ever seen. 

=

(Y/N) practically threw her things into her book bag before standing up and practically throwing people out of the way as well. She rushed through, ignoring the sassy calls at her back. There was usually a four minute transition between classes–she had just enough time to call Jonathan before class. 

Nancy was already in the hallway, walking to see Steve and to class with each other. She jumped and dropped her binder when (Y/N) sped by her. Glaring at the back of her head, she crouched for her belonging, "Excuse me!"

"Sorry!" (Y/N) shouted back, turning the corner and jumping out of the way of other people. There were telephones at the front of the school–directly beside the office and she came to a hurling stop when she arrived. She put the phone to her ear and tapped her foot on the ground as she awaited an answer.

Steve noticed the frustrated look on Nancy's usually calm features. He put a hand on her shoulder blade, "You okay?"

Nancy nodded, "Just (Y/N)." She paused and looked up at him, "Do you think she's okay? She seems.. off."

"Well, she was late to class for once," Steve shrugged, dropping his arm over Nancy's shoulders.

Nancy and (Y/N) were never crazy close friends. They talked occasionally and sat next to each other in a couple classes in middle school, but it never went beyond that. "Should we check on her?"

"Nah, she'll be fine, Nance," Steve shook his head as they approached Nancy's class.

"Hello?"

"Jonathan! Any news?" (Y/N) asked rather quietly into the phone. She heard him sigh.

"No," Jonathan said with disappointment. He leaned against the wall on his side of the phone, "Mom went off to see your dad about an hour and a half ago."

(Y/N) took a deep breath as she leaned against the wall as well, "Great. You know, if we need to, I can go out looking for him tonight. I'm worried about him too.." 

Jonathan shook his head despite not being seen. He scratched the side of his head, "You don't have to do that. I'm sure the police will find him in the next couple hours.... I hope, at least.." 

"Jonathan.." (Y/N) sulked. Anybody could hear how hurt he was–even over the staticy phone. She sighed, "I want to help you guys." 

Jonathan nodded, "I know you do, but you shouldn't. The police will be on top of it, it's okay." The bell rang, venturing through the phone line. "Sounds like you need to get to class." 

"I should," (Y/N) rolled her eyes. She pushed off of the wall, standing in front of the phone holder, "I'm probably going to call again before school is over, I hope you know." 

"I figured," Jonathan laughed slightly. "I'll tell you whatever I find out." 

(Y/N) nodded, "Okay. Bye, I guess." 

"See ya." 

=

"Remember, finish chapter twelve and answer 12.3 on the difference between an experiment and other forms of science investigation," Mr. Clarke–considered to be one of the best teachers in middle school–shouted above the sound of his students packing up and leaving the room. He watched them all leave, finding his words pointless, "This will be on the test, which will cover chapters ten through twelve." He lowered his voice, "It will be multiple choice with an essay section."

The classroom door shut with a rather gentle thud and silence engulfed the now–supposed to be empty classroom. Mr. Clarke looked at the front of his desk. 

"So, did it come?" Mike asked with enthusiasm. 

Mr. Clarke looked at them, upset, "Sorry, boys. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but.. " He looked at the boys who looked disappointed. He smiled, "It came!" He felt happiness rush through him when the boys all smiled. Turning to the side, Mr. Clarke motioned to the door, "Follow." 

He proceeded to lead the boys through the multiple hallways that seemed like a maze to anybody unfamiliar to them. He led them to a room with walls aligned with bookshelves. They were packed with what anybody else would consider junk. In the middle was a desk with multiple stacks of paper on it and a very high-tech looking radio. 

The door was opened quickly by Mike who was shoved aside by an eager Dustin. THey crowded around the radio, smiles covering their faces. Mike put on the headphones first, letting out a 'woah' of awe. 

"Ain't she a beaut?"  Mr. Clarke entered the room as well, standing off to the side with a smile as big as the kids'.

Dustin reached forward, playing with the tuner, "I bet you can talk to New York on this thing."

Mr. Clarke smiled harder, "Think bigger."

Lucas furrowed his brows, "California?"

"Bigger." 

Mike looked up at him, "Australia?"

Mr. Clarke nodded in confirmation. It made the boys gasp in amazement–shocked they had something so cool at their hands. Lucas looked over the whole thing, glancing at his friends in the process, "When Will sees this, he's totally gonna blow his shit!" 

"Lucas!" Mr. Clarke sternly said while crossing his arms in the process. 

"Sorry.." Lucas smiled and looked away, making Dustin snicker at the scolding. It made Mr. Clarke smile again. 

MIke leaned closer to the mic, pressing down on the button built into the stand. He put on an Australian accent, "Hello, this is Mike Wheeler–president of Hawkins Middle AV Club."

Dustin pulled the headphones off of Mike's ears, putting them over his own. He also put on an Australian accent, "Hello, this is Dustin and this is the secretary and treasurer of Hawkins Middle AV Club. Do you eat kangaroos for breakfast?" 

Lucas and Mike laughed at his question. Just when Lucas reached for the headphones, a knock came at the door and the principal walked inside. Standing outside the door was Chief Hopper as well as his two comperade–Officer Callahan. 

The principal glanced at the students before settling to look at Mr. Clarke, "Sorry to interrupt, but, uh, may I borrow Michael, Lucas, and Dustin?" 

They really didn't have much of a choice. They were all led from the AV room and to the office. One more small hallway and they were told to sit on a couch in the principal's office. Hopper and Callahan sat in two chairs before them, listening to their overlapping speaking. 

Hopper yawned, both of tiredness as well as boredom. He raised his hand only slightly, cutting them off, "Okay, okay! One at a time, all right?" He looked directly at Mike, "You."

Mike nodded in understanding as Lucas looked at him with a 'why him' look. 

"You said he takes what?" Hopper asked. 

"Mirkwood," Mike said. 

"Mirkwood?" Hopper repeated. 

Mike nodded, "Yeah."

Hopper looked at Callahan, "Have you ever heard of Mirkwood?"

"I have not," Callahan shook his head. "That sounds made up to me."

"No, it's from Lord of the Rings," Lucas confirmed. 

"Well, The Hobbit," Dustin corrected. 

Lucas rolled his eyes in Dustin's direction, "It doesn't matter." 

"He asked!" Dustin defended himself. 

Lucas mocked him in return, "He asked!" 

Mike shook his head, "Shut up, guys!"

Hopper quickly sat up in his chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, "Hey, hey, hey! What'd I just say?" He stared at them in silence for a moment. His voice got more stern, "One at a damn time. You." He looked back at Mike. 

"Mirkwood, it's a real road. Just a name that's made up," Mike clarified. "It's where Cornwallis and Kerley meet." 

Hopper looked at Callahan, "Yeah, all right, I think I know that–" 

"We can show you, if you want," Mike offered quickly. He wanted to help find Will too. ALl three of them did. 

"I said I know it!" Hopper exclaimed. Ever since (Y/N) matured, he forgot how annoying middle schoolers could be. He doubted it was just the hangover, too. 

Despite the loud tone, Mike didn't back down. In fact, he looked more stern, "We can help look." 

Dustin nodded, "Yeah."

"No."

The three boys weren't shy of their stubbornness. They all three began to state different reasons as to why they should be allowed to come. One's like; they're best friends, they know him better, they've taken his way home a number of times; they know what things look like around there. Which really, they weren't bad reasons, but they're only kids. 

"No," Hopper repeated. He was calmly stern, "After school, you are all to go home. Immediately. That means no biking around looking for your friend, no investigating, no nonsense. This isn't some Lord of the Rings book–"

"The Hobbit," Dustin corrected once more. 

Lucas swung over Mike, hitting Dustin in the arm, "Shut up!" 

Dustin hit him right back. 

"Stop it!" Mike shouted–only getting him into the fight as well. They ended up hitting one another repeatedly, shouting small insults back and forth. 

Shockingly low, Hopper glared at them, "Do I make myself clear?" 

The boys all finally stopped shoving and shouting. In fact, they went silent. They didn't want to lie about looking for Will, but they didn't want to not look for him. They were worried and scared. Hopper noticed this and stood up–looking down at them with a dark expression, "Do I make myself clear..?"

Hesitantly, the boys all shook their heads, purged with fear. "Yes, sir," Both Mike and Dustin said. 

Lucas swallowed hard, "..yeah."

=

The sun grew to be more gentle as the day went on. It took away most of the saturation of anything that reached the sun. Joyce walked through the woods, leaves cracking under her feet as she took the very familiar unseen path. Her eyes stayed focused on the shack-looking structure ahead. 

The wind blew gently enough to calmly turn up the American flag on the top of the structure. Joyce quickened her pace, walking around the front of the stick-walls. There were three signs on the front of it right above the blanket used as a door. 

'All Friends Welcome'

'Home of Will The Wise'

'Castle Byers'

On one stick closest to the door, was a broken metal doorbell Will had found one day. He'd plastered it onto the wood, telling everybody he knew that they were to ring it before entering. Joyce pressed her finger to it, "Ring-a-ding-ding! Anybody home?"

"Password?" Will answered. 

"Uh.." Joyce turned her head back in thought. Her hair was short and vibrant. "Radaga–," She cut herself off, closing her eyes in thought. "Radagast?"

"Yeah," Will softly said. "You may enter."

Joyce smiled, "Thank you, sir." She moved aside the sheet and walked inside.

It was very homey. Pallets were laid on the ground with multiple old blankets thrown on them acting as a bed. Trashed lamps were sitting on surprisingly strong nightstands that were filled with little trinkets of all sorts. Will even took the time to rake the leaves out of his home away from home.

He sat on his bed with a comic open in his hands, criss-crossed. 

Joyce sat on the other side of the bed, "So, guess what? I got off early and.." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out two tickets with a bright smile, "Ta-da! Poltergeist."

Will was smiling in disbelief, dropping his comic quickly, "I-.. I thought I wasn't allowed to see it?"

"I changed my mind," Joyce shrugged, lowering the tickets. She looked at him through her bangs, "As long as you don't have nightmares for a week."

Will almost immediately shook his head, "No, I won't. I don't get scared like that anymore."

"Oh, yeah?" Joyce smiled. "Not even of.." She thought for a moment. "Clowns?"

"No."

"What about my witch?" Joyce pulled up her finger and acted as if it were a claw of some sort. 

"No. Mom... I'm not five anymore.."

Joyce kept up her act, "But Will Byers–I'm going to cook you up in my–" She reached for him, leaning into him with her witch voice still on.

Will laughed, trying to get away from her, "Stop. That's so stupid. Mom!"

Now things weren't nearly as vibrant. It made Joyce let out breaths of pain. The wind wasn't blowing the flag anymore, either. 

"Will?!" Jonathan's voice echoed through the forest, bouncing off all of the trees. Joyce's voice follows suit, trailing not too far behind his own. He cupped the sides of his mouth, worry bringing his brows together, "Will?!"

They went quiet, hoping to hear him calling for them. Still, there was nothing.

"Will!!"

"Will!?"

The wind finally blew again, tossing the sheet-door into the structure aggressively as the Byers' voices took over any other sounds in the trees. Echoing over and over again as they cried for their Will to find them over and over again. 

=

Sizzling filled the area, a pleasing smell beginning to rise in the air. Ben looked through the kitchen window, still seeing the thief sitting at the table he'd sat them at. He grabbed his spatula and flipped the burger. 

He hadn't seen a kid scarf down food like they did in a long time. Rarely ever. Heck, she'd barely even stopped to chew–let alone breathe. "Geez. Your parents forget to feed you?" He asked with crossed arms, watching her eat. 

She didn't answer. She didn't look up. She just kept eating. 

"Is that why you ran away?" Ben still aksed despite her silence. He showed no anger to the silence. "They uh..." He glanced away. "They hurt you?" No response. He put his hands out to try and act things out, "You went to the hospital, you got scared, you ran off, you wound up here, is that it?"

She chewed slower, looking up at him with no answer. 

Ben sighed and took the burger from them, dropping it into the basket he pulled to his side of the table, "All right." He took the burger in his hand, leaned forward slightly, "I'll give this back, all right? You can have as much as you want. All right? Maybe even some ice cream. But you gotta answer a few of my questions first, all right?"

She stared at him. 

"We got a deal?" 

She still just stared.

Ben put the burger back in the basket, "All right, let's start with the easy stuff. All right?" He stuck his hand out, the universal sign of peace, "My name's Benny. Benny Hammond." He noticed they didn't know what it meant. 

Using his other hand, Ben pulled hers up to his own and grasped it rather gently at first. Not his usual way of a handshake, but he doubted they knew that, "Like that.. Don't worry. It's okay." He took his free hand back and shook theirs up and down, "Nice to meet you, yeah. And you are?"

She didn't respond. 

It made Ben lower his arm slightly with a heavy sigh. He moved her hand over, revealing the bottom of their forearm where he saw a tattoo. 011. She quickly took their hand back. 

Ben sighed again, wondering how bad things really were. He glanced at her attentive eyes, "Eleven? What's that mean?" She didn't respond, making him put more emphasis on his words, "What's it mean?"

Hesitantly–and almost looking like it was forced–she looked away, "No."

"Well, I'll be damned," Ben exasperated. "She speaks," He laughed slightly. "No? No, what?" 

She went quiet again. 

With a click of his tongue, Ben picked up the basket, "All right. I guess no more food, then." He turned in his chair and was prepared to get up when she said her second word of the day.

"Eleven."

He looked over his shoulder at her. She looked desperate for the food, watching him closely. He turned back to her, "Yeah. What's it mean?"

She pointed to herself, "Eleven." 

Ben was quiet for a moment. It took a bit for the words to register in his mind before nodding slightly and giving her the basket back. He chuckled at the way she dug back into her food, "There you go. Take it easy, take it easy." He looked away with a sigh. 

"Yeah, look, all I know is that she's scared to death," Ben said into the telephone, looking down at the newspaper. It held all sorts of important numbers for really any sort of trouble anybody could possibly have. He'd circled the one beneath the Social Services Hotline. He nodded, "Yeah, I think maybe she's been abused or.. kidnapped or somethin'."

He peered at Eleven from the phone, leaning against the wall, "Yeha, it'd be great if someone would come by. Yeah, we're at 4819 Randolph Lane. Yeah, Randolph." 

Eleven only stopped to take a sip of water before going back to her food. She was glad to be cleaner, now. She found out that she didn't like the feeling of dirt on her hands–especially while eating. She didn't, however, enjoy the sounds of metal rubbing harshly on itself. It was disturbing her long-awaited peace. 

She looked up at the noise. It was a metal fan that looked rusty in some spaces. Lowering her head, Eleven's eyes settled on it darkly–looking at it through her eyelashes. She stared at it for a few moments longer and it came to a screeching halt. 

Eleven loosened her body again and went back to eating. 

=

Leaves blew up from the road. Some waved off to the side while others retook their place on the cement. Two vehicles–both police vehicles–rolled down Mirkwood road before coming to a subtle stop. One vehicle was blue–holding Officers Callahan and Powell. The other was a tan color–belonging to Chief Hopper. 

They all got out and ventured down the road slowly. Callahan looked into the trees, "Will Byers!" 

"Will Byers!!" Powell shouted as well. 

The two hung far behind Hopper who scanned the area for anything unusual. He saw nothing out of the norm. It only made him think that Will really did go back to a relative. He reached for his pocket as the other two continued shouting into the woods with various hollers. He took a pill from the bottle he got from his side, swallowing it dry. 

As he did, his eyes looked to the side. He slowed his movements, "Hey, I got something!" As the officers rushed to him, Hopper scaled down the small mound on the side of the road. It was a bike–one that looked small enough to carry a kid Will's age. It had to be his. 

"That his bike?" Callahan asked. 

"Yeah," Hopper looked through the trees. "He must've crashed."

"You think he got hurt in the fall?" Callahan began to look around as well. 

Hopper looked at his bike again. Around it there were no footprints or marks that said anything else, "Not so hurt he couldn't walk away, at least. Bike like this is like a Cadillac to these kids. He would have walked it home or wherever he went." He approached the bike and picked it up with ease. 

The three continued to turn their necks to find anything they could follow. There was nothing. All they heard was chirping and wind. Whatever did happen, it happened somewhere else, too.

=

Static was a good amount of what the people in the small room heard. That and nearly all of the conversations through telephones around. To anybody else, it would just be a headache of a job. These people were used to it, though–some even shamefully found it amusing. 

"Oh, Friday I'm supposed to.."

"...but we will cover whatever the damages are done to your property."

"It's just, um.."

"That's for sure." 

The conversations only continued. If not for the headphones, not a word would be audible. That would indeed cause a headache. Everybody wrote down just about everything said or anything deemed interesting. One woman brought a cigar to her lips as she listened to the conversation and just picked up, "Is Lonnie there?"

"Lonnie isn't here right now."

"Can you please–"

"I told you, Lonnie's not here."

"Who is this?"

"His girlfriend, Cythia."

"Cynthia."

"Who the hell is this?" 

"Cynthia, this is Joyce."

"Who?"

"Lonnie's ex-wife. I really need to speak to him–"

"Lonnie's not here. Why don't you call back later?"

"No–no!" 

The line went back to static. 

The phone dinged when it was aggressively placed back on its holder. "Bitch!" Joyce shouted, full of rage. She could understand why Cynthia didn't want to speak to her or anything of the sort, but she should have at least heard her out. Been a little nicer. 

"Mom," Jonathan said from the living room couch, papers strung out on the coffee table. Those along with markers and crayons from Will's bedroom. 

Joyce turned to him with an angry look, "What?"

Still, Jonathan kept his calm, "You have to stay calm." 

Joyce snickered in disbelief. She didn't say anything as she looked back down at the sticky note in her hand before pulling the phone back to her ear. Lonnie's voice ventured out of the phone and a beep followed suit. Joyce smiled despite her state, "Lonnie, some teenager just hung up on me. Will is missing. I.. I don't know where he is." Her voice began to shake, "I need.. I just need you to call me back, please–just–" She practically threw the phone back on the wall, shouting at it in the process. 

Jonathan sighed as he looked back down at the posters he was making. Rocks being driven on sounded outside, making him look up and stand quickly. He made his way quickly to the door, opening it with confusion, "What're you doing here?" 

"I'm sorry. I just–I can't just be in school without knowing what's going on," (Y/N) said quickly, walking up the porch steps and stopping before Jonathan. He glanced behind him before shutting the door behind him. (Y/N) winced, "Is she okay?"

Jonathan sighed and shook his head, "No. I.. haven't seen her so upset in years. My dad isn't picking up the phone, so we don't even know if Chief Hopper will look for him before we get ahold of him." He ran a hand through his hair stressfully, "...I don't know how things will go from here.."

"I'm really sorry, Jonathan," (Y/N) looked away, taking a deep breath. She examined his unreadable expression. 

They'd begun being friends their first year of highschool. Both of them were loners, so they clicked almost immediately. They'd shared some small points of their lives with one another–working through things they found difficult. 

Jonathan was weary at first–having always been introverted. When he saw how (Y/N) acted with his family, he knew she was a good person for sure. Still, though, he doesn't know much about her childhood. It seemed to be a touchy subject–one he wasn't going to beg a story about. 

"..we'll find him," Jonathan tried to convince himself. He leaned against one of the pillars, "I'm sure Chief Hopper is right. He probably did go to a relative."

"Who do you think he'd go to?" (Y/N) asked hesitantly. 

"....I don't know," Jonathan shrugged. 

(Y/N) examined his face for a moment before looking away, "I hate to tear down your hope, but you and Joyce are his go-to people along with his friends. And they wouldn't not let you guys know he's with them. Sorry, again. That sounded mean.." 

Jonathan processed her words. He crossed his arms and shook his head, "No.. you're right, you're right." 

They got quiet, now–really just caught up in thought. Birds seemed to flee the area or just go quiet all around. Luckily, wind was a common thing today. The clouds moved quickly in the sky, amusing (Y/N) through the silence. 

The front door opened with a heavy sigh breaking through, "(Y/N)! Why are you here?"

"Couldn't really focus on school," (Y/N) smiled sheepishly. "I should have called, I'm sorry." 

"No, no, no," Joyce quickly said, stepping outside as well. "I don't mind. I've just uh.. been calling people..." 

(Y/N) looked upset. She didn't hesitate to pull Joyce into a hug, "He's okay, Joyce." 

Joyce swallowed hard into the hug, returning it with tight arms. She nodded against (Y/N)'s shoulder, "..yeah. He's a strong boy."

Jonathan glanced at the hug before the familiar sound of rocks shuffling was heard. He looked up before pushing himself off of the pillar, "Mom?"

The two girls let go of one another and looked in the direction he was, seeing police cars approaching. (Y/N) winced at the tan one. The officers stepped out of their vehicles, Powell and Callahan approaching the porch as Hopper went to the back of his truck. He returned back around shortly after, Will's bike in hand. 

Hopper sent a small look of sympathy in the Byers' direction as he leaned the bike against the porch. His eyes moved to (Y/N)--her looking away quickly, "I'm not going to ask how you got out of school." He took a deep breath, trying to keep calm and not scold her. He motioned to the  house, "Let's go inside." 

Joyce opened the door quickly for the officers, her son and (Y/N) following suit before shutting it again. She rushed to be back in front of Hopper, "Where'd you find it? Did you find anything else?"

"No, we didn't see anything else. And it was just on the side of the road," Hopper looked around the home. His eyes fell down to the posters Jonathan was making before looking back up.

"It was just lying there?" Joyce asked. It made her worry much more. Will loved his bike–and he took good care of whatever he was given. He wouldn't ever just drop it anywhere. 

"Yeah. Cal?" Hopper sighed, motioning for the officers to look around. He walked around the living room. 

Joyce followed him. "Did it have any blood on it? Or–" She tried to think of anything they might have missed. 

Hopper shook his head, "No, no, no.."

"If you found the bike out there, why are you here?" Jonathan asked. He was beginning to wonder if the Hawkins police were really all-that amazing. Then again, it's not like they had any bad things happen for them to prove themselves. 

Hopper wandered into the kitchen vaguely, "Well, he had a key to the house, right?"

"Yeah."

"So.." Hopper looked out the kitchen window. "Maybe he came home." 

Joyce was in shock. She couldn't believe that the police thought she wouldn't check her own home. "You think I didn't check every inch of this house?" 

"I'm not saying that," Hopper muttered. He approached the back door of the house, noticing a spot on the wall. He traced around it, "Has this always been here?" 

"What? I don't know," Joyce shrugged with a look of disbelief. "Probably. I mean, I have two boys."

(Y/N) shook her head, "No–that's never been there." Everybody looked at her, wondering how she would have known that. She shrugged, "I just pay attention.." 

Hopper pulled open the door and swung it all the way open. The doorknob lined up perfectly with where the dent was. He looked at (Y/N), "You're sure about that?"

"..positive," (Y/N) nodded. 

The dog barking turned their attention outside–behind the house. Hopper stared at the dog for a moment, looking in the direction it was. He made his way outside–Joyce following him. He crouched next to the dog, ruffling his fur, "What's wrong with this guy?" 

Joyce scoffed and took the collar in her hand, "Nothing, he's probably just hungry. Come on." She tugged on it lightly, bringing him back up the steps and into the house. 

(Y/N) shut the door behind Joyce. She went outside, following behind her dad who stood and made his way to the shack in the back. Everything about it looked normal. There was no dirt on it, it wasn't obsessively dirty, there was little to no junk around it–nothing out of the normal. 

The two went inside and the light flickered on. Hopper examined the wooden table against the wall, shotgun bullets tossed all over it. He looked up to what should have been holding the gun, but there was nothing there. He brought his hand up to the holder and right when he touched it, the light went out. 

It made (Y/N) jump and step into a small pile of ripped up wood and an old cardboard box with a thud. Rather than apologizing for the action, she paused. 

Hopper looked at her, concern growing on his features, "What's wrong?"

(Y/N) moved her foot from where she'd tripped, looking down at it and noticing a shine to her shoe. Like it was wet or something. Hopper took out his flashlight, shining it on her shoe. Confusion spread to both of them, "What.. is that?" 

It was a goopy substance. Almost like thicker–stickier–water. The color was like a very, very unsaturated green. It was unsettling, really.  

Hopper shook his head lightly, "I don't know." He shone his light where (Y/N)'d stepped. Inside the cardboard box was a substance he'd never seen before. It was thicker than what was on (Y/N)'s leg, but looked to be sheathed in it. He stared at it in confusion and disbelief. 

The light suddenly flickered back on, followed by a loud, "Hey!"

Both Hopper and (Y/N) turned around quickly, their hearts jumping up their throat, "Jesus!"

Officer Callahan stood in the doorway, "Are both of you deaf? I've been calling you, Chief." 

Hopper looked back down at the box with a hard breath of both slight fear and confusion. 

"What's going on?" Callahan asked, leaning to try and look between the two. He noticed (Y/N)'s shoe, "What is on your shoe?"

"Uh.." (Y/N) stammered. 

Hopper brushed his hand through the air, telling the office to drop it. He motioned for (Y/N) to go ahead of him after she'd used a dirty towel to wipe the guck. They went outside quickly, leaving a confused Callahan in the door. He hesitated for a moment before following, "Are you sure you're okay, Chief?"

"Listen, I want you to call Flo. I want to get a search party together, all right? All the volunteers she can muster. Bring flashlights, too," Hopper ordered him quickly as he began up the stairs to the Byers' home. 

"Hey, you think we got a problem here?" Callahan asked as officer Powell turned quickly around the corner of the house, joining them. 

He didn't answer. He glanced back at the tree following him for a moment before heading back inside. 

=

"We should be out there right now," Mike said with a ticked off tone. He'd barely touched his dinner, "We should be helping look for him." 

Karen fed a small spoonful of food to Holly next to her, "We've been over this, Mike The chief says–"

Mike tossed his hands up in anger, "I don't care what the chief said!"

"Michael!"

"We have to do something. Will can be in danger," Mike continued. His expression looked desperate. It didn't feel right to be eating dinner as if nothing was happening while Will was who-knows-where. 

"More reason to stay put," Karen pointed out. 

"Mom!"

Karen dropped her hand onto the table firmly, "End of discussion." She looked ahead at Nancy who only raised her eyebrows with sass. Then, she glanced at her husband who never seemed to help do much of anything. He only sipped his tea. 

Nancy poked at her food, "So... me and Barbra are gonna study at her house tonight. That's cool, right?"

Karen shook her head, "No, not cool." 

"What? Why not?" Nancy asked, tone already rising. It sounded more like a scolding. 

"Why do you think? Am I speaking CHinese in this house?" Karen asked sarcastically. She looked at everybody other than her youngest who couldn't even process that Will was missing. "Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves.

Nancy's shoulder's dropped. She stared at her mother with a displeased expression, "This is such bullshit!" 

"Language," Ted finally spoke up. 

"So we're under house arrest?" Nancy dropped her utensils. "Just because Mike's friend got lost on the way home from–"

"Wait, this is Will's fault?" Mike's voice easily overpowered her own. 

Karen looked at Nancy with an upset expression, "Nancy, take that back."

"No!"

"You're just pissed off 'cause you wanna hang out with Steve," Mike sassed. He paused before looking up at his parents. As much as he hated it, he felt guilty for ratting on his sister–even if she was a jerk sometimes. 

Ted looked up from his meal and at Nancy, "Steve?"

Karen did the same, "Who is Steve?"

At this point, Mike didn't even care. She shouldn't have said what she did about Will. "Her new boyfriend," he answered. 

"You're such a douchebag, Mike!" Nancy shouted, turning to glare at him. 

"Language!" Ted shouted. 

Nancy stared at him before scoffing and standing up. She ignored her mother's order to come back, going upstairs and slamming her bedroom door shut. 

Karen looked at Holly who looked unsettled by the shouting. She smiled lightly, "It's okay. It's okay, Holly."

"See Michael?" Ted spoke. "You see what happens?"

"What happens when what?!" Mike shouted. He looked between his mother and father, "I'm the only one acting normal here! I'm the only one that cares about Will!" 

"That is really unfair, son. We care," Ted said, bringing his fork to his mouth. His tone sure didn't scream caring. 

Mike took notice of this and just shook his head, mouth agape. He slammed his hands on the table and left too, also ignoring Karen's calls to return. Karen shook her head in disbelief ot her husband, in awe that he could do so little. 

=

Echoes traveled through the woods over and over again. Each call being that of the missing Byers. Flashlights shone in every direction and frightened away the many woodland animals while attracting the smaller, more frequent bugs. It was colder now, everybody having a jacket while some had gloves and hats. 

"Will!"

"Will Byers!"

"Will?!" 

"Will!!" 

Every time one person stopped calling, another voice would fill the silence. Between each call, the faint sound of crickets and the occasional croak of a toad would sound. Those along with the rare owl call. Almost like they were asking who Will was. 

Mr. Clarke joined in the search as well. Will–along with the group of friends he was in–was his favorite student. Really anybody that paid attention could see that. He had on a thick coat. He wanted to stay out for as long as he could, "He's a good student." He smiled and nodded, walking next to Chief Hopper. 

"What?" Hopper asked. 

"Will," Clarke answered. "He's a good student. Great one, actually." He shrugged, "I don't think we've met. Scott Clarke. Teacher at Hawkins Middle–earth and biology."

"I always had a distaste for science," Hopper commented. 

Clarke smiled and shrugged again, "Well, maybe you had a bad teacher. 

"Yeah, ms. Radliff was a piece of work," Hopper nodded, recalling how many times he was scolded in school. He wasn't the most goody-goody kid. He'd honestly expected (Y/N) to turn out the same, yet, she's the complete opposite. 

Clarke couldn't help but snicker in agreement, "Radliff? You bet. She's still kicking around, believe it or not."

Hopper raised his eyebrows momentarily, "Oh, I believe it. Mummies never die, so they tell me. Sara, my other daughter... galaxies, the universe, whatnot.. she always understood that stuff. I always figured there was enough going on down here, I never needed to look elsewhere." 

"I remember teaching (Y/N). What about Sara–what grade is she? Maybe I'll get her in my class too," Clarke asked, shining his flashlight the opposite way of Hopper's. 

Hopper was quiet for a moment. He hesitated, "No, she, uh.. she lives with her mom in the city." 

Clarke nodded, "I see. Do you guys visit them?" 

"Sometimes.." Hopper shrugged. They didn't. They never went anywhere out of Hawkins.

He scolds himself everyday he doesn't ask why (Y/N) doesn't go see her mom. "Thanks for coming out, teach. We really appreciate it," Hopper said, walking further ahead of Clarke who nodded. 

A woman met her pace to be with Clarke. She was also wearing a thick coat and she had dark brown hair to her shoulder with side bangs. Looked to be in about her.. mid thirties. "She died a few years back," She glanced at Clarke who looked taken aback. 

"Sorry?"

She motioned to Hopper, "Sara–she passed away."

=

Metal characters stood scattered across the board. As usual, the main lights weren't being used, yet everything was still well-lit. A thick radio was to his ear, the antenna pulled as high up as it could be, "Lucas? Do you copy? Lucas?" 

His voice came in muffled on the other side of the line. Lucas pulled up the antenna and clicked the button on the side of his radio, "Hey, it's Lucas."

"I know it's you," Mike said in an a-matter-of-fact tone. He moved his free hand with sass, "ANd say 'over' when you're done talking so I know you're done. Over." 

"I'm done. Over," Lucas said back sternly. 

"I'm worried about Will. Over."

Lucas sighed and rolled over to be lying on his stomach, "Yeah. This is crazy. Over." He sounded tired–Mike couldn't tell if that was because of the situation or time of night. 

"I was thinking..." Mike hesitated. He tapped his index finger on the table, "Will could've cast Protection last night, but he didn't. He cast fireball. Over." 

Lucas furrowed his brows in confusion, "What's your point? Over."

Mike sighed, "My point is.. he could've played it sage, but he didn't. He put himself in danger to help the party. Over."

Lucas thought about his point. Really only they would understand what exactly that meant. Once the point registered he looked out his window, "Meet me in ten. Over and out." 

They both put down the radio antennas nearly at the same time. They scrambled for their bookbags and loaded them with flashlights–Lucas dumping in some small rocks as ammo for his slingshot. Both of them had to sneak out–having been told by their parents they're basically on lockdown. It was fairly simple, though. 

Mike rolled out of the garage, switching on his bike light. His eyes glanced around the area before he heard thudding on the side of the house. He looked to the side and paused. Steve Harrington was jumping in an attempt to reach the lower-roof of the house. Right next to Nancy's bedroom window. 

Steve paused as well and looked at him awkwardly. He put a hand on his hip and leaned against the gutter with a small wave. Mike stared at him for a moment longer and shook his head before going to meet with Lucas. 

With an awkward wince, Steve jumped again and got his torso on the roof. Using his arms and attempting to crawl up the wall with his legs. He struggled quite a bit before finally being able to roll all the way on. He reached up and knocked gently on the window, grabbing Nancy's attention. 

Nancy looked out the window and her mouth fell open as she jumped up from her seat. She quickly pulled open the window, "What're you doing here? I told you on the phone, I'm under house arrest now." 

Steve smiled, "I figured we'd just study here." 

"No," Nancy shook her head immediately. "No way. 

"Oh, come on," Steve tried. He put his hands on the bottom of the window sill trim and began to pull himself inside. "I can't have you failing this test. So just–" His voice strained a bit as he stepped inside–nearly falling in the process, "Bear with me." He regained his footing, "What'd I tell ya? Ninja." 

Nancy scoffed lightly and shut her window again. 

=

Eleven coughed, earning a look from over Ben's shoulder. She glanced up and just continued eating the cold treat. Ben rinsed off the dishes with cold water before shutting it off and drying his hands, "You like that ice cream, huh?" He leaned against the counter. 

Eleven pulled her lips into a tight smile, playing with her spoon. 

"Smile looks good on you," Ben commented.

She looked at him, confused. 

"You know.. smile?" Ben raised his arms, not really knowing how to explain it. He paused before giving her a smile of his own. Eleven watched him and put on a small one. 

They both went silent–listening to the radio playing from the dining area. Eleven continued eating her ice cream–with the occasional brain freeze–and Ben continued to clean up around the kitchen, never straying too far. Both of them looked up when a faint knocking sound came from the front door. 

Fear engulfed Eleven's body–her stomach dropping. 

"All right," Ben tried to calm her down. "You just sit tight," He dropped the towel that hung over his shoulder on the counter. He put on a careless look in an attempt to relax her, "Whoever it is, I'll tell 'em to go away real quick, all right? Stay here." He put his arms up a bit before heading for the front door–Eleven watching with wide eyes. 

Ben made his way to the front door–seeing a woman with blonde hair to her shoulders. She looked to be in her early thirties–or maybe she just looked good for her age. He couldn't tell. He opened the door and held it there, "Hey, can I help you?"

The woman smiled, "Hi, you must be Benny Hammond."

Ben nodded, "I'm afraid I am. I'm afraid we're closed for the evening, too. So try back tomorrow morning." 

"Connie Fraizer. Social Services," Connie told him quickly after. She held out her hand in greetings. 

Ben paused before shaking her hand, "Ah, my apologies. I didn't expect you so soon. That's a heck of a drive." 

Connie shrugged and tilted her head a bit, "Not too bad this time of night." 

"Hey, listen, I..." Ben motioned to behind him. "I haven't told her you're coming yet. I didn't want her running off again. She's a tad skittish." He could almost feel Eleven's eyes staring at the two of them. 

"Children I work with usually are," Connie nodded in understanding. 

"Right, right.." Ben nodded faintly before going awkwardly quiet. 

Connie held onto her bag and shuffled a bit, "So, where is she?" 

"Right. She's in the kitchen," Ben nodded quickly after breaking out of his silence. He turned and motioned for Connie to follow, "Come on in. I'll introduce you." 

"Thank you," Connie's eyes darted all around the place. It was empty and only the sound of the radio was heard–that is, after the door shut with a gentle click. She pulled her bag closer and reached inside. 

Ben continued to lead her to the kitchen. He made small talk on the way, "Your, uh, voice sounds different on the–"

A stiff and quite silent gunshot made Eleven jump. Ben's body collapsed on the floor with a hard thud causing more blood to jump from his new wound. His heart jumped before coming to a still-point and his lungs failed to rise again. Killed on sight. 

Eleven's jaw hung open momentarily as she let out a gasp of horror. She jumped from the counter and ran for the kitchen doors–knocking dishes over, sending them shattering to the ground. She came to a sudden stop when the side-door she was going for was pushed open by two men. They both had guns as well. 

Where 'Connie' was, Dr. Brenner and one of his–had to be–right hand men walked in. Their eyes fell on a lifeless Benny. It was a pity. They knew who everybody in town was–they'd heard that Benny was a good man. Work was work. One life was nothing. 

The radio went static. It got loud before returning to music. Thuds sounded in the back–like two bodies dropping followed by groans of pain. The group looked in the direction of the loud crashes as a screen door slammed shut. Dr. Brenner overlooked his men on the ground and stepped outside–his eyes scanning for his.. child? It filled him with dread to see nothing but trees and pitch black. 

=

"Ah, man. This is it," Lucas announced. His stomach was filled with both fear and curiosity as he and his friends came to a stop on the side of the road. 

The area they'd approached had a simple wooden barricade marking the star of the search for Will. The sky wasn't clear–the clouds darker than it itself. Thunder rumbled in the distance and it only sounded like it was getting closer. Dustin looked up when he felt raindrops, "You guys feel that? I think maybe we should go back.."

Mike and Lucas were already off of their bikes. Mike pulled up his hood as he looked at Dustin, "No. We're not going back. Just stay close." He and Lucas dropped their bikes on the ground next to the road before moving by the barrier. 

"Just stay on channel six and don't do anything stupid," Lucas ordered. 

Dustin paused as he watched his friends walk through the trees. He dropped his bike quickly when another loud boom of thunder shook the clouds, "Wait for me!" He was beyond relieved when his two friends stopped and turned to face him as the soft sprinkles grew more consistent. 

=

"Which polymers occur naturally?" Steve read from the off-brand white notecard in his hand. The handwriting was smooth and in cursive–showing it to be Nancy's writing. 

Music played quietly in the background. It was loud enough to keep Nancy's parents from hearing the voice of a boy, though. 

Nancy's eyes looked up as she tried to scan the mental notes in her head. She paused, "Starch and.. cellulose." She looked back at Steve on the other end of her bed, awaiting clarification. 

Steve nodded and moved the card to the back of the stack. He read the next one, "In a molecule of CH4, the hydrogen atoms are spatially oriented towards the centers of–"

"Tetrahedrons," Nancy cut him off quickly. 

Steve moved the card after glancing at the back with a shake of his head, "Wow. Jesus, how many of these did you make?" 

Nancy leaned forward a bit, smiling, "You said you wanted to help." 

Steve couldn't deny that. He glanced at her features before straightening the cards in his hands, "How about this.. how about each time you get an answer correct, I have to take off an item of clothing. But every time that you get something wrong–"

"Uh, pass," Nancy shook her head quickly, repeating the word no as Steve laid on his side. 

"During fractional distillation," Steve continued. "Hydrocarbons are separated according to their.."

"Melting point." 

Steve looked at the back of the card. His eyebrows raised, "Oo, it's boiling point." 

Nancy shook her head, "That's what I meant." 

"Yeah, but it's not what you said," Steve smiled slightly. He tugged gently on the collar of his shirt. 

"No."

"No?" Steve repeated. He put the cards down next to him as he reached forward a bit and sat up, "Oh, do you need help or.." He put his arm on the side of her arm as he brought his face closer to her own smiling one. 

Nancy couldn't help but lean in after repeating yet another no. Her smile faded in a daze when her lips met Steve's own. He moved a hand to the side of her face as he continued to kiss her. She got the hint and began to lean back and let her back rest against her pillows. 

They hadn't made any efforts to pull away from one another. Steve let his hands make their way to the buttons of Nancy's blouse, managed to snap one apart before she pushed him away gently, "Steve.. Are you crazy?"

"What?"

"My parents are here," She told him.

Steve paused and looked over his shoulder. His eyes glanced around the room, "That's weird, I.. don't see them." He smiled softly before leaning back down to continue the session. He'd managed to get one kiss in before he was being pushed off again and Nancy was sitting up. 

"Was this your plan all along?" Nancy asked before avoiding eye contact. "To.. get in my room and then.." She buttoned her shirt back up, "So you could get another notch on your belt." 

"No. Nancy, no," Steve shook his head quickly. While he denied this, he did avoid Nancy's large eyes staring at him. 

Nancy shook her head, "I'm not Laurie. Or Amy–or Becky."

Steve nodded and finally looked at her, "You mean, you're not a slut." 

Nancy paused. She shook her head, "That's not what I'm saying." It is what she's saying. 

"You know," Steve smiled. "You're so cute when you lie." 

"Shut up," Nancy couldn't keep down her smile.

The music filled the temporary lack of speaking. Steve looked at a small teddy bear on Nancy's bed before grabbing it and making puppy-dog-eyes. It made Nancy smile and shake her head, "You're an idiot, Steve Harringotn. 

Steve stared at her for a moment, "You are beautiful, Nancy Wheeler." He sat up as Nancy looked away, embarrassed. He picked up the stack of cards again  and switched to a new one, "Compared to the rate of inorganic reactions, the rate of organic reactions is generally.."

=

"I should probably get going," (Y/N) smiled softly, closing one of the kitchen cabinets. She'd just finished helping Jonathan clean the dishes. She'd helped clean up anything she figured needed it. It wasn't much, but she wanted to help somehow. Even if it meant just by taking some of the easy work off of the Byers' hands. 

Joyce smiled at her, "Thank you for checking on us, (Y/N). And for helping us clean the place up." She approached (Y/N) and pulled her into a welcome hug to which was happily returned.

They pulled apart with smiles on their faces. (Y/N) held on to Joyce's hand, "You call me if you need anything at all. You too, Jonathan." She glanced at Jonathan leaning against the counter. 

"We will, (Y/N)," Joyce couldn't have been happier to hear those words. Though, she wished she could hear more, "Again, thank you, (Y/N)."

"I'm glad to help," (Y/N) nodded. She let go of Joyce and shuffled to give Jonathan a quick hug as well. They lingered around one another for a moment before she made her way to the door, "Remember; call me, okay?"

Jonathan nodded with a small smile, "We will, (Y/N). Get home safe."

(Y/N) smiled in return before exiting the house and making her way to her car. She wasted no time getting in her car—it was always creepy at night where the Byers live. Or maybe it was only the circumstances. 

The radio turned on with her car, static at first before turning to a more clear station. Looking as much behind the car as she could, (Y/N) pulled out of the driveway and onto the road. 

Nobody was ever out at this time. Unless it were rebellious teens and late-night workers. The road was empty tonight, though. 

(Y/N) felt her body relax when one of her favorite songs came over the temporary static. No Expectations by The Rolling Stones.

The windows were cracked and blowing around the little tree air freshener on her rear view mirror. It tussled her hair as well as her clothes and sent shivers along her skin in the cool air. 

Everything seemed so peaceful. Everything was peaceful, before she'd remembered that Will was probably scared and alone. With the idea that nobody—not one person knew where he was. It was terrifying to even think about. 

A shine ahead made her foot lay off the gas. (Y/N) squinted her eyes as she leaned closer to the wheel. The one shimmer turned into three. It was where Will's last said area was—other than what was found at the shed of the Byers' estate. 

(Y/N)'s stomach tightened as she came to a stop before the pile of bikes. She could tell they belonged to the three friends of Will. She'd seen them around Hawkins plenty of times before—they were always together and always on those bikes. 

Hesitantly, (Y/N) pushed open her car door and got out. Well, she couldn't not do anything. The boys were all still young and unpredictable—who knows what sort of trouble they'd be getting into. Or rather, what they already had. 

She was quick to dig into her backseat and in the compartment on the back of the driver's seat, she found a flashlight. She clicked it on and was filled with joy when it lit up. The joy didn't last long as she remembered how dark and scary the forest is at night. At home, she's taken to sleeping with a bat beside her bed. Just in case. 

(Y/N) looked at the forest again before taking a deep breath and stepping onto the fallen leaves that gave off a now terrifying crackle along with the first drops of rain following suit.

=

Joyce sighed. She looked toward her eldest son sitting on the couch before the paper filled coffee table. All sorts of photos Jonathan took along with an array of pictures of Will and missing signs. "Jonathan, wow," She sat down next to him after tearing away from the phone on the wall. She picked up a photo, "You took these? These are great." She sniffed as she looked at the photos in awe–amazed how her son was as he was, "They really are." 

She paused at her son's silence. Her arms wrapped around each other before her, leaning onto her knees, "I know I haven't been there for you. I-I've been.. working so hard and I just... I just feel bad–I don't even barely know what's going on with you." She snickered nervously. 

Jonathan didn't look at her. He couldn't look at her. His eyes stayed glued to the pictures of Will as he let out a restraining sigh. One of pain and fear. His throat hurt as he tried to keep everything in and when he felt his mom's hand reach to hold his own, it hurt even more. 

"What is it, honey?" Joyce asked quietly. She rubbed Jonathan's upper arm with her hand in a motion to comfort him. She knew he needed comfort in more than what was going on now. He's taken on so much and she's only just truly being there for him emotionally. It felt horrible. 

"..Nothing," Jonathan managed to get out without letting a tear fall. 

"No–tell me. Tell me, Jonathan," Joyce tried–her voice breaking. "C'mon. You can talk to me.."

"No," Jonathan lowered his head even more at the way his voice shook. Opening up was always something he found to be so difficult. He looked up slightly, "It's just.... I.." His voice broke, tears slipping by his eyelashes, "I should have been there for him."

Joyce shook her head immediately, "No. No–this is not your fault, Jonathan. None of this is on you, do you hear me?" She looked at the photos, "He is close. I know it. I can.. I can feel it." She put an arm around Jonathan's back as he leaned slightly into her, "You have to trust me on this, okay? I can feel it in my heart–I know."

Jonathan nodded, trying his best to compose himself. 

Joyce felt more tears fall down her cold cheeks, "Look at this one." She grabbed a square photo of Will from the school's picture day. Her voice broke again as she looked at his smile, "Look at this one... I think that's it, right? I think that's the one." 

"Yeah, it is," Jonathan nodded before he leaned his head on Joyce's shoulder. His watery eyes couldn't pull away from the picture. He pulled his head back up to take the photo and just when he did, the phone rang. 

Joyce hadn't ever jumped up so quickly before she ran to the phone and pulled it from its holder in a rush. She brought the phone to her ear, "Hello?" She only grew confused when static was all she heard. "Hello?! Lonnie?" Still, only static. 

Jonathan looked over, "Dad?"

"Hopper?" Joyce asked, trying to get whoever it was on the other side of the line to talk. Her brows furrowed in confusion, "Who is this?" She paused to listen. The static turned into breathing. Heavy, scared breathing. She turned as Jonathan approached her and she looked at him with a mixture of fear and hope. "Will?"

"It's Will?" Jonathan stepped forward. 

"Will?!" Joyce cried into the phone before the static returned with the accompany of a sort of.. call. She didn't know what it was–it was distorted and something she'd never heard before. "Will?!" Her crying continued as she held onto the phone as if it were Will. "Who is this?!" 

The growl from before returned–only this time, it was more creature-like. It was deep and eerie. Her mind was too focused on her son to contemplate what it could have been. She only kept shouting with tears dropping from her eyes, "What have you done with my boy?! Give me back my son!!" 

The phone fell to the floor after Joyce cried out in pain. The whole side of her face was stinging and the phone was burnt where it touched her. She moved quickly away from the phone–still trying to register what was happening. 

Jonathan grabbed the phone instead, bringing it to his ear without a moment's hesitation, "Hello? Who is this?" He hit the phone holder repeatedly when he got no response. The small moment of hope when he thought they had a lead was gone. Nobody was answering–not even the static dared spare his heart. 

Joyce's crying continued. Her cries turned into full on sobs that struck Jonathan in the heart. He hadn't heard his mom cry like she was then. He turned to her and grabbed her arms firmly as she spoke incoherently through her sobs. He made her face him, "Mom, look at me! Was it Will?" 

Tears fell from Jonathan's eyes now, too. He kept the hold on Joyce tight, as if he was trying to keep her together with only two hands. "What did he say?" 

"He just breathed. He–He just breathed," Joyce sobbed as she moved by Jonathan to pull the phone back to her ear. Just silence came through. Not anything. She moved into Jonathan's arms as he pulled her into a hug, crying on her shoulder. "I know his breathing–I know his breathing..."

All they could do was hole each other and cry. That, and attempt to keep their hopes up. It's always so much harder than what it sounds like. 

Still, they just cried. 

=

"Will!!" Mike's voice echoed over the rain pouring down. 

Lucas shone his flashlight over the many trees, "Byers!!" 

Dustin cupped a hand on the side of his mouth, "I've got your X-Men 134!!" He sped up his pace to match his friends, "Guys I really think we should turn back." He had to project to be heard over the rain and cracks of thunder. 

Lucas rolled his eyes, "Seriously, Dustin? You wanna be a baby, then go home already!" 

"I'm just being realistic, Lucas!" Dustin shouted back.

"No, you're just being a big sissy!" Lucas retorted. 

Dustin paused before speaking–worried that saying it outloud would only make him more afraid, "Did you ever think Will went missing because he ran into something bad? And we're going to the exact same spot where he was last seen? And we have no weapons or anything?"

Mike kept his eyes in front of him, "Dustin, shut up." 

"I'm just saying," Dustin put his arms out in defense. "Does this seem smart to you?"

"No, it's not smart."

An array of screams echoed throughout the forest–being drowned out in the distance by the rain. Both Mike and Lucas were ready to defend their own, swinging their arms out in an attempt to perform self defense. Dustin, on the other hand, was ready to run. He only cried out more when he was held back by a hand grabbing his bookbag. 

"Quit screaming!" (Y/N) hushed them all, pulling Dustin back to the group. 

Dustin turned to her while putting a hand over his heart that was nearly beating out of his chest, "What is wrong with you?!" 

"What's wrong with me?" (Y/N) repeated. "What's wrong with you guys? You guys thought it would be a good idea to come to the forest in the middle of the night, during a storm, no adults, no weapons, and not even your bikes by your side to be able to get away from something—or somebody quickly? You guys are insane!" 

"Then why are you here?" Lucas asked, glaring at her. 

"To get you three! You're all going home now!" (Y/N) sternly spoke.

Just when Mike opened his mouth to comment about their right to be looking for their friend, distance screeching was heard. All four flashlights turned in the direction of it and (Y/N) stepped toward it in case something was coming. She'd rather it be her than kids so young. And stupid.  

A branch snapped behind them suddenly and almost instinctively, the boys jumped to get behind (Y/N). The group froze when their lights landed on a kid their age. A girl their age. She wasn't from school and her hair was a short distance from buzzed. The large, yellow, oversized shirt she wore was far too large and soaked. The skin around her nose and eyes were irritated and pink. 

(Y/N) froze–not knowing what the first step of a situation like this would be. She shook her head lightly and motioned to the boys, "Quit shining the light in her eyes." 

The boys seemed to have not understood for a moment before finally lowering the flashlights. Dustin hesitated before he motioned to (Y/N) despite her not being able to see him, "Do something."

"I don't know what to do–" (Y/N) shrugged. She paused before crouching down–slowly when she realized the girl flinched. She placed her flashlight on the ground, shining past the fallen leaves and making the rain that fell in its field shine. 

The girl took in (Y/N)'s features. She tried reading if the people before her were people she could trust. The only people she was ever around were scientists or men in suits. Social cues weren't her thing.

"What's your name?"

Eleven. She remembered telling Ben that. Or him finding out. 

"Not a talker," (Y/N) smiled wearily. "Can you shake your head? Yes, no?"

Eleven's eyes met (Y/N)'s. She nodded once.

"Good–good. You can't be okay in the cold like this, especially while it's raining. Do you have somewhere to go?" 

Eleven shook her head no.

(Y/N) nodded, "The choice is yours–you can come with us. Stay with one of us for as long as you need. We can help you." She extended a hand, keeping it open to show there was nothing to be afraid of. Rain dropped onto her hand.

Eleven looked down at the hand before her. She looked back up at (Y/N) and hesitated before slowly reaching her own hand toward (Y/N)'s.

A breath she didn't know she was holding in left (Y/N)'s lips. She smiled softly and grabbed the flashlight at her side before standing with her hold kept on Eleven's hand. "Just stick by my side," (Y/N) looked down at Eleven. She motioned to Eleven's bare feet, "And watch where you step."

"We're really taking them back with us?" Dustin quietly asked as (Y/N) walked by the boys with 

Eleven.

"This is crazy.." Lucas muttered as well. 

"Shut up and follow them," Mike said–his eyes fixated on the unknown girl's back ahead of him. He followed them, ignoring the looks he knew Lucas and Dustin were giving each other. 

They all walked back to the road. Dustin kept shining his flashlight in all directions–still not entirely sure things were okay. Will went missing, they heard an eerie screech, and now they've found some random girl in the woods. Not peculiar at all. 

The group walked through the woods, weary of their surroundings. (Y/N) wasn't all sure about their situation. She had no idea where they were going to go. Mike, Lucas, and Dustin were just kids. Her dad was chief of police–he may be able to help. He would be able to help. But the girl seemed far too shaken up to be put through what came with being investigated by the police. 

"All of you, get your bikes in the trunk," (Y/N) looked over her shoulder at the boys as they approached her car. She spoke gently to Eleven, "Careful going up here.. it's slippery with all the rain and leaves..." She began walking up the mound on the side of the road. 

Eleven did as she was told, carefully walking up the side. She followed (Y/N) around the car before coming to a stop before the passenger side door. (Y/N) opened the door for her, motioning for her to sit inside. But Eleven didn't move–she only looked up at (Y/N).

"What's wrong?" (Y/N) crouched next to her. 

"Wet," Eleven motioned to herself lightly. 

(Y/N) laughed softly, "Don't worry about it. It'll all dry. You can sit."

Eleven stared at her a moment longer before looking back inside the car. She moved closer to the car before crawling inside and sitting in the seat nervously. 

(Y/N) smiled at Eleven before standing. She took one step before being held back by Eleven's tight grip on her hand. "Don't worry. I'm going right around the car. I'll sit next to you, okay?" (Y/N) smiled.

Eleven hesitated before letting go of the hand she gripped onto tightly. 

(Y/N) shut the car door and walked around the car. She paused when Lucas slammed the trunk shut. "You guys get in the back seat," She opened the driver's door and got inside. Before the boys all piled in–each of them discussing what was going on–she reached into the backseat. She brought a blanket she always had in her car to the front seat,  unfolding it and passing it to Eleven. 

"Here," (Y/N) sighed. "Dry yourself off and cover up. Your hands are cold, the rest of you must be, too." 

Eleven took the blanket in her hands, watching (Y/N) closely as she dried her face off as well as her arms. She covered herself up and relaxed into the seat–her eyes still glued to (Y/N)'s face. 

(Y/N) moved the keys into their designated spot and the engine roared as it turned on. Her hands were quick to turn the heat on and direct some in Eleven's direction. Just at that time, the two back doors opened. 

Mike sat in the middle while Dustin and Lucas sat by the windows. Everybody sat in silence as (Y/N) began to drive. A ding began to go off, making (Y/N) scoff, "Are any of you wearing seat belts?" She moved one hand from the wheel, reaching over Eleven to put hers on for her. 

The boys all rolled their eyes and buckled themselves up as well. 

Everybody went quiet again. 

Lucas turned. He looked around at everybody, "So what're we gonna do?"

"Yeah, sitting here like this isn't weird isn't making me feel any better about this situation," Dustin nodded vigorously in agreement. 

"I don't know," (Y/N) shook her head lightly. 

Eleven looked between everybody as they spoke. 

"You're the most adult here!" Lucas leaned forward in his seat. "Take us to the police station!" 

"No!" Mike shouted.

"No, that'll probably be too much for her to handle," (Y/N) sighed as she thought. 

Dustin shook his head, "Take her to your house, (Y/N)!"

"I can't! Are you all forgetting that my dad is the chief?" She put a hand out to seem to get her point across. 

"Ugh," Lucas rolled his eyes. 

Mike's brows furrowed together. His eyes lit up, "Take her to my house!" 

"No," (Y/N) shook her head quickly. "You both are kids. And you do need to consider your parents in this."

Mike shook his head, "They don't have to know–they wouldn't know! I can keep her in the basement. My parents never go in the basement and neither does Nancy!"

"Mike–"

"Please. I can do this," Mike looked at (Y/N) through the mirror, hoping his sad eyes would pull at her heart strings. "You can even check up on us regularly."

(Y/N) sighed in thought. She went over all different outcomes or places they could go. Mike had a point. She agreed with that, but was weary with too much pressure being put on Mike. He's still young. He's going through a lot–his close friend went missing, school bullies (news spreads), school in general, growing up. It's a lot. 

She groaned out loud, "Ugh.. fine."

=====