Welcome back! It's kinda sick that you're still here. In a good way, of course. Are you having fun? What kinda snack are you munching on? I recommend Cool Ranch Doritos. Nothing's better.

Will swayed with the movements of Jonathan's car, the headset and Walkman sitting in his lap. His gaze was stuck on the toes of his converses, his mind stopping and chiming at a constant low hum. Drifting from the radio was Purple Rain by Prince. The volume was too low to hear the lyrics, but the instrumental kept everyone's emotions under control in the tenseness of the car. The tenseness that came after Will ignored each of their attempts to talk, managing only a soft grunt or one-word reply. Tenseness that both Mike and Jonathan could understand and didn't blame Will for. It finally reached noon but Will wasn't exactly keen on going home just yet.

Will's mind was on a constant whirlwind of taking in some information and denying others. Of questions unanswered and what other questions were to emerge from the other tapes. That was until his brain clocked out and became nothing else but pulsing dead weight in his skull. His mind has never been on hardcore overdrive before, his eyes burning with each blink.

There was a lot he wanted to know. A lot. But most of all, Will wanted to know which tape was his, despite not having all of them in his possession. He wasn't going to skip forward because he wanted to know each person that hurt Sloane and what they did, but it wouldn't hurt to know which was his. It had only been a couple of hours and he was only on the B side of the first tape, but he couldn't help but feel like Sloane's pain was his as well. If Sloane wouldn't be mad at them, Will would take that job. He was already prepared to snap at Mark if the jock even looked at him sideways during school in a couple of days.

Heaving a sigh, Will let his head rest back on the soft fabric of the seat. A flash of red in his peripheral told him to turn his gaze. Sitting beside him was Sloane, arms folded limply across his chest. His expression was light, but not smiling. He looked a bit confused to the point of his eyebrows being furrowed, a soft frown on his lips. He looked the same as he did the last day Will had seen him. Hair long enough to reach his shoulders, donned in one of his favorite red pull-overs tucked into stonewashed jeans. Turning to look at Will, he shakes his head.

"I don't even like that stupid diner. The only good thing on the menu is the smoothies." Will quirked his head, curiously before the car stopped. He and the Sloane manifestation turned to the front of the car, staring at Jonathan, a hesitant smile on the young man's face.

"Okay, Will. We're here." Will's head dips softly, turning to see that Sloane had disappeared. Removing his bag, Will grasped the Walkman, climbing quickly out of the vehicle. Mike moved to get out as well, Sloane now leaning on the hood of the car.

"Wow. Is Wheeler finally caring about your mental breakdowns? I don't know if I should be okay with this competition." Will bit his cheek to hide his inappropriate amusement. Clearing his throat, he leads the way into the diner, taking his time to take in the overall appearance. The bright colors were like missiles of discomfort to Will's already sore eyes. The black and white tiles on the ground, placed in a heinous, uncoordinated pattern. Red and white tiles on the tables in a checkerboard fashion. Thankfully, the walls were all painted in a single solid color. Maroon. In the farthest corner sat a jukebox, primed and ready for a quarter. Moving out of the way of the door, Will pulled the headset on. Sending a glance to Mike, he shook his head.

"If I sit at a booth, don't sit at the same one. Okay?" Mike frowned.

"Are you sure?" Will nodded. "Yeah. I have to try to... Get a grasp on my emotions, y'know?"

"On my own."

With an unsure nod, Mike approached the counter, taking a seat on one of the brightly colored stools. He twisted the rotatable seat back and forth, his hands folded on the surface. Pressing play, Will waited by the door for his next directions.

I bet your wondering who's next, right? What they did. Is it you? What did you do? Maybe you did something cruel. Or maybe you didn't do anything at all and you wish you did. I hate to remind you but... I'm dead.

Friendship is a complicated thing, right? Like, am I close enough to this person to open up-are we homies-or are they just another person who'll forget my name within the next month? Airheads find it easier to have groups of friends, I think.

Listen, I hate small talk. I'm not going to spend 10 minutes making you wait for the next person's name, because that's what you're all waiting for. That's what you're all here for. One of my friends during sophomore year was an Airhead. But it was understandable and she wore it proudly.

Jane Hopper, Pro-Climber of the Popularity Ladder. Welcome to your tape.

A waitress approached Will, notepad in hand and a shy smile on her lips. The cherry lip balm coating them looked like they were sucking the life out of the feature. She wore what Dave's Diner considered it's Bangin' Look. See, Dave's Diner was decorated to impersonate the 50s. Her skirt fanned out to resemble a poodle skirt and Will almost feared for his toes when she skated carefully towards him. Stumbling to a stop, she met his hazel irises with her own chocolate ones, apologetically. From a closer distance, Will could now tell who the girl was. He didn't return the smile, but paused the Walkman, waving lightly.

"Hi, Tami." He managed as she regained her balance. Brushing her dark brown hair over her shoulder, she sighed. "When I told my old man I needed a job, I didn't think he'd make me work in this dump, yannow?" She complained, popping the gum she had hiding in her cheek. With a tossed glance over her shoulder, she leaned on the half wall Will was harboring. This was the usual Tami, not the shy, apologetic one that he almost lost his toes to. Smiling softly, Will shrugged.

"You take what you can get, right?" She laughed.

"Yeah, sure." Tami White. Or Tamsin to the many teachers that she hated, especially the Principal. She was the captain of the cheerleading squad at Hawkins High. She was great at it, and still managed to balance all of her classwork as well. She was apparently the face of what Hawkins teen girls were supposed to look like as all Jane talked about was 'having the same lip gloss as Tami White' or 'needing to have the new jean skirt that Tami White wore to school that day'. As far as Will knew, her father worked for the Mayor and was loaded so she could basically get whatever she wanted within reason. He supposed that her needing a job had less to do with money and more to do with needing something to do during the colder months.

Personality-wise, she was nice enough.

Clearing her throat, she tapped her pen on the notepad. "You stayin' or goin'?" Will sent a wary glance at all the booths before mumbling that he was staying. Nodding, she scribbled on the paper.

"Okay, Will Byers," Though it sounded more like Byas. "Where are you placin' your tushie? You came at a good time, every seat's empty." Will could see that clearly. The diner was a ghost town. Shifting nervously, he quirked his head.

"Do you know where Jane used to sit? When she came here?" Nodding absentmindedly, Tami pointed to a booth just over her shoulder with the butt of her pen.

"Yeah, it's the sacred seat. Jane will come in once every day to make sure no one is sitting there." Nodding, she narrowed her eyes. "It's scary seein' the glare she gives to the kids who sit there."

"Though, you two are like Brother and Sister or somethin' now, right?" Will hesitated before nodding. "You should be fine." She finished, spinning around and leading him to the booth in the very back. She was a little steadier at stopping this time, watching Will slide into the red leather seat. She placed a hand on her hip, gesturing to him with the pen.

"You just call me when you figure out what you're orderin'." And with that she was gone, stumbling off and stopping by Mike. From where Will was sitting, they seemed to be having an engaged one-sided conversation, a bright smile bedazzling Tami's face. Mike's fingertips tapped anxiously at the bar, giving the tawny-skinned female short answers. His form was stiff, keeping his gaze on the napkin dispenser sitting in front of him. As if like clockwork, Will pressed the play button, pulling his hands up to open the menu sitting on the table.

Jane and I met Sophomore Year. It wasn't like fate or anything. It was just a group project that started off with four people and ended up being two. I think you can imagine why the other two, who happened to be guys, left the group.

She told me about this diner that her father introduced her to. She said the smoothies were, excuse my french, bitchin' and if I didn't have one I was a mouthbreather.

Will smiled at that, his gaze on the Sides as he picked at the corner of the plastic booklet.

I didn't want to be a mouthbreather, so I tagged along on one of her trips. It wasn't all that bad. I walked in with no friends and left with one. The food was crap, but I stayed for the freedom it gave me.

You all know Jane. The 5 foot 4 girl with massive spunk and clothing that you'd only find on the mean streets of Chicago. Who's glare makes you stop in your tracks and piss your pants.

This is where the story really begins, I think. The story of Dave's Diner and the friendship we built in the building. Even after the project, we made it our ritual to meet there after school for 40 minutes. It was just us and the smoothies and empty promises that would eventually crash and burn like the fads of the 70s.

But if you could ever guess, someone joined our duo! We became The Three Musketeers and suddenly I was overwhelmed with the number of people who wanted to actually be around me. Now it was Jane, Sloane, our smoothies and a bottle of pop for the Dungeon Master, Michael Wheeler.

Will blinked, frowning at the small icon of a hamburger. His stomach filled with uneasiness as a soft tickle spread from his shoulder blades to the back of his neck. He turns slowly, meeting the attentive gaze of Mike in the distance. Will froze, ignoring the want to frown or even the word that bubbled at the base of his chest. 'What?' Mike's gaze was indecipherable. Will couldn't tell if he was worried, waiting for Will to start crying, or if the smaller of the two was simply over thinking it; Mike was looking through him. They stared in silence, neither saying a word, the frown that Will had tried to will away, taking his face. A cold ghost-like tap on his shoulder and he turned to stare into the hesitant eyes of Sloane. Will's frown deepened as he was pulled into a memory that wasn't his.

. . .

He pulled open the door and found himself again in the Diner. It seemed brighter somehow, lighter. How the world felt to Will before Sloane died even with all of the rumors. The booths were all filled and each stool at the bar had an animated person sitting in it, yelling jokes and chattering with people that they'd never met before and probably would never speak to again. That was Dave's aura. A place to make friends. A place where you could be as free and loud as you wanted because no one cared who you were. Only what you ordered and what songs you listened to. As Will took in the stark difference of the place, the door chimed behind him. Sloane stepped past him, not even acknowledging his existence, grinning from ear to ear. At the sacred booth, Jane sat with Mike.

Mike waved Sloane over, sitting opposite of Jane. "Hurry up!" Sloane seemed to glide around the restaurant, nodding to the waitress at a booth and sending a quick greeting to the chef. A couple hellos came from others in the restaurant, Sloane laughing in reply. He received a kind pat on the shoulder from a man leaving the establishment, his stomach full and spirits light, before sliding into the chair beside the Paladin. A smoothie is slid onto the table by the waitress. Kiwi-Strawberry. Sloane immediately takes a long sip. Swallowing, he turns to address Mike.

"I can't help but notice, you took my spot." Mike scoffed.

"You're like 10 minutes late! Better luck next time, Ramen Noodle." Reaching across the table, Jane patted Sloane's arm. "It's okay. You're a very pretty Ramen Noddle." Mike scowled, picking at the basket of fries at the center of the table.

"Handsome, El. You call boys handsome."

Jane narrowed her eyes. "Does handsome... Mean pretty?" Sloane weighed his hands, shrugging softly. "I don't think so..?" He mumbled, sending a glance to Mike. Shaking his head, Mike turned to Jane.

"No, but I know you don't call a boy pretty." Jane was silent with thought, looking between the two boys. Straightening her posture, she pulled her smoothie closer and took an exaggerated sip. Swallowing, she turned to Sloane.

"Well, I do. Sloane is a pretty boy."

. . .

Will blinked and both the memory and Sloane were gone. Shaking his head, he breathed uneasily. He always wondered what Mike and Jane were doing on the days they turned down an offer to hang out with the party. Dustin always said it was because they were 'hiding behind some building mashing'. At the time, though, Mike and Jane were on one of their regularly planned breaks, so Will knew it couldn't possibly be that. As quickly as he grew suspicious, they'd started snaking their way back into the equation. Missing a couple sleepovers here and there until none were missed at all. And they started dating again, but Mike was... Different. He'd overthink his answers or never speak at all.

Will squinted out the window beside his booth, eyeing Jonathan's car. The teen rested on the hood of the Ford, talking to Jane. She looked distraught, almost hurried, but Jonathan was calm in comparison and lightly tapping his foot. Will was sure she knew he was in there at her sacred booth, but not once did she look at him or the building. She seemed concerned, but not enough to check for herself. Once Jonathan calmed her down, she turned on her heels, leaving the way she came. Will could see a glimpse of Mark Miller across the street.

I got too comfortable. I made myself a daily reminder to go to that Diner. A little yellow sticky note in the mirror, so to speak. I don't think Jane felt the same way, though. She was the first to stop coming around. At the time, it was for good reason. She needed to be there for her family. I didn't hold that against her, she came whenever she could.

. . .

"No Jane?" Mike shook his head, fingertips dancing along the condensation of his pop. Nodding, Sloane managed a sad smile. Shrugging softly, Mike glanced over at Sloane. They still sat on the same side of the booth, as they would any other day.

"I can tell something's wrong. I can always tell. She gets this weird look on her face and she never looks you in the eye." Mike described, talking with his hands.

"She rarely talks, doesn't eat."

Reaching over, Sloane patted Mike's shoulder.

"Hey. It's okay. Jane's way cool and she's strong. Just show her you're willing to listen and I think she'll come around." Mike nodded, with a tentative grin. "Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Slo."

"No problem. Cheers?"

"Cheers."

. . .

But it was when she wouldn't even talk to me in the halls, that I knew something was wrong. Not even a glance to let me know she still thought about the get-togethers we had planned after school. But it's okay. After a while, she grew tired of letting me stew in self-pity, trying to figure out what I did wrong.

She told me what I did wrong the last day she showed up for Smoothies.

Will took a shaky breath, the salt shaker in one hand and the pepper in the other. He slid them back and forth between his hands using the sleek table to his advantage. He didn't watch each reason happen. He didn't see Jane go storming into the Diner, ignoring the chimed greeting from the chef and waitress. He didn't see her yelling, steam practically billowing from her ears, Mike trying to stand up for himself and Sloane sitting in bewildered silence. And he definitely didn't see the waitress who worked before Tami, go flying across the room, scaring away most of the customers that Dave's Diner used to have.

Dave's Diner had never been the same since.

Holding up a finger, Will sent a dazed smile to Tami. She came over quickly, grinning with her perfect white teeth.

"Can I get the... Kiwi-Strawberry?"

Rumors are like honeybees on flowers. They leave for the Winter and you hope your life can be peaceful for once. But once the Spring comes again, you're swarmed. And you can't find any way out, but the wrong way.

Tami nodded, an impressed hum escaping her lips. "The best smoothie in this joint, if you ask me." She tucks the notepad away in her apron pocket, with a wink. "Even if you ain't. I'll go get that for you."

You'll always be the sweetest girl at Hawkins High. Same as Mark, you aren't an inherently bad person. You let yourself be deceived by a rumor and your views on me changed all the same. You're just a... Sweet little airhead.

Will forces himself not to jump when his smoothie is placed in front of him. He sends Tami a thankful smile, her hand ruffling the already messy bushel of hair on his head. Glancing at the tall serving, Tami seemed to freeze thoughtfully. "Yannow? I think there was someone else who sat here, drinkin' that same flavor smoothie... I completely forgot his name." Will's smile fell, watching a drop of water traveling down the glass.

"Oh, well. Enjoy!"

Mike stopped coming around after you expressed your distaste with our friendship. I can at least say, he still gave me silent nods in the hallway. And congratulations. I hear you two started dating afterward. Are you dating again now? Or are you on another break?

Will reached forward, taking the straw between his index finger and thumb. He twirled the tool, mindlessly before taking a quick sip. Neither. He answered. They've decided they just don't work. The drink was insanely sweet. He could see the appeal it had to people like Sloane and Tami. Swallowing heavily, he lifted his gaze to the person across the table. A different Sloane had returned. A sadder grey-er Sloane. Looking out the window, the time had changed to night, the parking lot empty except for a stray bike. Sloane's. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, the moon staring back at him, menacingly. Tools to record a tape were splayed across the table in between the both of them. A leather jacket hung from his shoulders and a wrinkled old Disney tee was tucked into a pair of dark blue khakis.

I still go to Dave's. Consistently-actually, I'm recording this while drinking my favorite smoothie. Kiwi-Strawberry. It's dark out-pretty late-and I think they want to close up but they're avoiding me. Out of pity, I think.

Sloane's hair looked like it hadn't been maintained in a long time, a bit frizzy at the ends. He hadn't cut his hair since the end of Sophomore year, but his hair looked forgotten. There were obvious bags under his eyes and the usual light specks of amber and espresso gone.

His fire was gone. Sloane shut his eyes as he took the last sip from his Smoothie.

This'll be my last smoothie for a very long time. Oh-shit, sorry. Forever, actually. This is my last smoothie, period.

Will looked down at his smoothie in disgust as if drinking it was disrespecting Sloane's memory somehow. It was about a third of the way empty by this point, but his stomach flipped, knowing that Sloane could never have another. Closing his hands around the cup, he leaned until it was on the opposite side. He could feel the lump at the back of his throat building as he met Sloane's gaze.

Friendship. It's a fickle and confusing thing, isn't it? I wonder, Jane. Do you understand it quite yet? Or is it just as confusing for you as it was for me? When you left and let the rumor change the way you saw me. Was constantly-on-the-prowl Sloane easier to swallow than the genuine just-needed-a-friend Sloane you got to know?

And which did you prefer? Sloane sighs with a laugh. I think I'm going relieve the chef of having to look at me anymore. Friends. Funny how you think you know somebody. Time for the next tape, everyone.

The tape fell silent and the soft hum of the tape continuing to turn filled the headset. Sloane collected his things, placing them into his bag and left the table without a goodbye. Will never got to say goodbye. Will sniffled softly, taking off the headphones. His ears popped and were filled with the sounds of a working Diner. Clattering dishes and the Chef yelling about a burnt burger fazed in and out of his attention. He pulled up his sleeve to glare at the small watch on his wrist. 1:20. School ends in about an hour. Pulling the glass back to himself, Will decided not finishing it would be more disrespectful to Sloane's spirit. Slouching in the booth, he placed the straw in his mouth.

He took elongated sips, taking a moment to swallow before returning to slurping every last bit into his mouth. Mike slips into the seat across the way, placing a small basket of fries onto the table. Will looked between Mike and the fries and his stomach snarled in response. He hadn't eaten at all, had he? Pulling the straw out of the smoothie, Will placed it to the side, grabbing a french fry and dipping it into the sloppy drink. Across the table, Mike grimaced in disgust.

"Is that good?" Will snatched another fry, shaking his head. "I can't tell." He mumbled, frowning slightly. His mouth was numb to any flavors, the only thought on his mind being 'eat something, stupid'. He'd probably regret this later, but he figured staying hungry was an even dumber idea. Mike shook his head, obviously foreseeing something Will didn't. Watching Will place another dripping french fry into his mouth, Mike cleared his throat.

"So did you?" Will grunted, pushing the empty smoothie glass away. "Did I what?" Mike nodded to the Walkman that was now sitting on the table.

"Walk away?" A clip of Will watching Jane throw the waitress across the diner played behind his eyes as he bit into another french fry. The Diner bell dinged with him letting the door close, turning on his heel and running home. Shaking his head, Will managed a stiff smile.

"No." Mike sighed in relief. That was good enough for Will. Sitting up, he glanced out the window at Jonathan, who was now watching the two, curiously. When his gaze met Will's, he smiled, waving slightly. Will nodded in reply, turning back to the table. Rubbing his palm, he sighed.

"I think I've had enough for today." Mike nodded in understanding.

"I could only listen to one before getting sick." Will sent him a grimace, Mike shrugging softly. "You know, like sick sick."

"Oh. That's disgusting, Mike."

"Listening to my dead friend on tape just didn't sit well with me," Will grumbled about Mike not being Sloane's friend anymore, but brushed it off when Mike asked. To say his thoughts had turned petty would be an understatement. The two boys rise from the booth, turning to leave the building. Before stepping out, Will stops to pay for his smoothie. Approaching the bar, he waves Tami over, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He glances at the price briefly, before sifting through the lightly used wallet for the accurate change.

"Hey, hey, hey. What are you doin'?" Tami questioned, her tone light. Shaking her head, she pushed Will's money away. "Listen, the smoothie's on me. You look like you could use a break."

Will wanted to scoff. He wanted to tell her she had no idea. Instead, he put away his money and pulled out a five instead. Proffering it to her, he smiled. He spoke before she could reject it.

"It's a tip. Thanks for the smoothie, Tami." A bright smile spread across her lips, cheeks warming. Taking the bill, she nodded.

"Thanks, Will. Try to have a nice day, okay?" She called as he exited. Will snorted.

"Sure."