A/N: Content Warnings: Fear, Language, Disturbing Content, Death.
Hopper awoke dripping in sweat and with a pounding headache. His breathing staggered as he sat up quickly and looked around the room, the slow, dawning realization that he was sitting in his own trailer taking hold.
Like always, the coffee table was covered in empty beer cans and unmarked prescriptions. He also noticed his gun laying on the corner of the table where he usually left it. It appeared as though he had simply passed out after a night of drinking, the same ritual he partook in every night for the past four years. Throwing the blanket that covered him away from his legs, Hopper snatched his gun, dashed out of the front door, and ran down the front steps of his trailer. He distanced himself from the trailer by about twenty feet and spun wildly, searching for any sign of the government soldiers that had subdued him.
But he found no one.
Back inside, Hopper inspected his neck in the mirror of his bathroom, checking for any puncture marks. Using his middle finger, he applied pressure over his veins, freezing when he made contact with a small bump. Finding the evidence he needed that the previous night's events hadn't been a dream, he immediately began searching his home. Hopper ran his fingers along the edge of the bathroom mirror before moving to the overhead light. He unscrewed the bulb and felt inside the casing.
Nothing.
This pattern continued through the rest of his home. He checked the hallway lights, the thermostat, behind photographs, in his pantry, inside the radio, and scanned through the cooking ware. He flipped over his kitchen table and checked underneath it, broken open the phone and checked inside it, and even tore open the cushions of his sofa with a pocketknife to ensure that they too were empty. He shoved the items off of the mantle overlooking the fireplace, shattering glass in his wake. He took apart his television and his broadcast receiver and found nothing there. Eventually he had upended his entire trailer, but still he couldn't find any signs of tampering.
Hopper used his foot to move the various items now littering the floor out of his way, searching for anything that he might have left untouched. As his eyes searched around the room, they landed on the light fixture directly above the coffee table. Reaching up, he removed the glass covering and then the lightbulb, revealing a small, round microphone connected to the wires of the light.
Gritting his teeth in, Hopper began to breathe heavily and yanked the device out of the ceiling. He inspected it closely, the wheels in his brain turning as he began to formulate his next move.
In the depths of Hawkins Lab there was a room filled with electrical equipment for the purpose of monitoring any audio communications in Roane County, whether they be via phone or via radio. Cigarette smoke filled the air as multiple men and women sat and listened to countless hours of data, recording anything of note using a pen and paper. At the end of a long table, Dr. Brenner held the earpiece of a set of headphones up to his left ear. An audio recording from the day before began to play.
"Will! Will, its us!" Shouted a young boy. "Are you there?"
"Can you hear us? We're here!" Came another boy's voice.
A third voice, distorted this time, called out. "Hello? Mom?"
"Why can't he hear us?" The first boy asked.
"I don't know!" A new voice, a fourth male child.
"Mom, it's coming!" The distorted voice echoed.
Brenner set the headphones down, having heard enough. "She was there," he said, turning to the man seated next to him.
Jonathan made his way over to Nancy, signaling for her to sit down in front of a nearby fence with him so that they were obstructed from the view of any prying eyes.
"Everything okay over there?" Nancy asked, gesturing to where he had just finished speaking to that strange boy from school.
"I really don't want to think about that right now. Here, I made us a guide." Jonathan did a quick scan of the area to ensure they were alone. Once he had, he reached into his pocket and unfolded the map he had printed of the area around his house, gesturing at the markings he had drawn. "This is where we know for sure it's been, right?"
Nancy pointed at a red 'X' on the imprecise map. "So, that's…?"
"Steve's house," Jonathan nodded. "And that's the woods where they found Will's bike…" He pointed at another 'X' near the first one. "And that's my house."
"It's all so close," Nancy replied, something he had also realized the night before. It was so strange how Loch Nora, the upscale neighborhood where Harrington lived, was so near to where his house was. They were night and day when it came to the economic status of their residents.
"Yeah. Exactly. I mean, it's all within a mile or something. Whatever this thing is, it's...it's not traveling far," Jonathan said, focusing on the topic at hand.
Nancy peered into his eyes, recognizing something. "You want to go out there."
"We might not find anything…" He knew it was a shot in the dark. But they didn't really have any other option.
"I found something," Nancy admitted, making him feel a bit more secure in his plan. She glanced down at the ground and furrowed her brows. "And if we do see it...then what?"
Jonathan sighed and looked away, thinking for a moment, before turning back to her with a serious expression. "We kill it."
He turned around and checked over the fence, confirming that his parents were still standing by Will's grave. He motioned for Nancy to follow him and the pair stealthily made their way over to Lonnie's car. Double-checking that his dad was remaining immersed in his conversation, Jonathan opened the passenger door of the vehicle. Nancy watched nervously as he attempted to use a pocket knife to unlock the compartment box under the dashboard.
"What are you doing?" Nancy asked, darting her eyes back to looked at their parents.
"Just give me a second," Jonathan replied. After a few more wiggles he successfully broke the lock.
Nancy looked behind her again to be sure no one was watching as he opened the glove box and quickly found what he was looking for. He removed the hidden gun and checked to see if it was loaded. The sound drew her attention and she turned back to him, eyes wide when they landed on the gun in his hand.
"Are you serious?"
"What?" Jonathan pulled out a box of bullets and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "You want to find this thing and take another photo? Yell at it?" He knew he was being a bit rude, but… come on, really? The thing was an actual monster, and that made it dangerous. They needed something to protect themselves when they found it.
With the gun in hand, he shut the compartment and climbed out of the car, slamming the door closed behind him.
"This is a terrible idea," Nancy said with crossed arms.
"Yeah, well, it's the best we've got." Jonathan tucked the gun out of sight under his jacket and glanced back around to make sure they hadn't been caught. He knew they were in this by themselves. The one stranger he thought had been in the loop had apparently just been really accurate with the random advice he had found at the library. Seeing that the Nancy was still not sold, he continued argue his point. "What? You can tell someone, but they're not gonna believe you. You know that."
"Your mom would," she replied.
"She's been through enough." He didn't need his mom to get involved. She was already fragile enough as it was.
"She deserves to know."
"Yeah, and I'll tell her...when this thing is dead," Jonathan said, staring into her eyes. Nancy looked away, her nervous expression mirroring the feeling in his gut.
Principal Coleman entered the Hawkins Middle School AV room, guiding a man wearing a blue jumpsuit and a brown utility belt. "I don't know what in the world caused it," Coleman said as he pointed at the destroyed radio.
"Let's take a look, huh?" The repairman walked around the device to examine the damage caused the day before.
"Yeah," Coleman nodded. "Mr. Clarke says he's never seen anything like it."
"Mr. Clarke?" The repairman asked, interested. He set his clipboard down on the table and pulled out a flashlight.
"Yeah, he runs the AV club."
"That right?" The man aimed his light at the radio's control board, inspecting the charred machine.
"Apparently, some of the less athletic types go nuts for this stuff," Coleman replied as he leaned over the radio to watch the man work.
Outside of the school a white Hawkins Power and Light van started up, the now finished repairman ambling toward it. He climbed up into the passenger's side and gave a meaningful glance to his partner in the driver's seat.
At Will's reception, Mike looked all over for his science teacher. He noticed the man standing by the refreshment table and motioned to his friends before the three proceeded to make their way over to him. Dustin had suggested that they ask Mr. Clarke some questions, insisting that the older man would be able to help them solve the mystery that their book had presented.
"Mr. Clarke?" Mike asked. Their teacher turned to find him, Lucas, and Dustin staring at him. Though the latter was currently helping himself to the food, he and Lucas gazed at the man hopefully.
"Oh, hey, there," Mr. Clarke replied with a solemn smile. "How are you boys holding up?"
Remembering to look as sad as possible, Mike stared down dejectedly at the floor. He and his friends stood in silence for a moment, making no other noise beside Dustin's loud munching.
Lucas sighed at the curly-haired boy, before addressing their teacher. "We're...in...mourning." Mike glanced back at Lucas to see him also looking at the floor sadly.
"Man, these aren't real Nilla Wafers," Dustin interrupted, glaring at the cookie in his hand.
Lucas let out a huff of irritation as Mike tossed Dustin an exasperated look. He turned back to Mr. Clarke to ask, "We were wondering if you had time to talk?"
"We have some questions," Lucas added.
"A lot of questions," Mike finished.
Around a nearby table their teacher sat down with them, ready to hear said questions. Mike felt a little nervous over the coming conversation, but he was determined to do what he could to find Will.
"So, you know how in Cosmos, Carl Sagan talks about other dimensions?" He asked, Mr. Clarke looking back at them with folded hands. "Like beyond our world?"
"Yeah, sure," Mr. Clarke nodded his head and smiled. "Theoretically."
"Right, theoretically," Mike echoed quickly.
"So, theoretically," Lucas said. "How do we travel there?"
"You guys have been thinking about Hugh Everett's Many-worlds Interpretation, haven't you?"
Mike had no idea what that meant. He turned to his friends, the other boys all staring back at him with an equally clueless look.
Mr. Clarke noticed their puzzled faces and started to explain, "Well, basically, there are parallel universes. Just like our world, but just infinite variations of it. Which means there's a world out there where none of this tragic stuff ever happened." Mike frowned as he listened, an expression that his friends repeated.
"Yeah, that's not what we're talking about," Lucas replied with a shake of his head.
"Oh."
"We were thinking more of an evil dimension, like the Vale of Shadows," Dustin said. "You know the Vale of Shadows?" Mike rolled his eyes when Dustin took another bite of a cookie before looking expectantly back at his teacher.
"An echo of the Material Plane, where necrotic and shadow magic-" Mr. Clarke apparently did know the Vale of Shadows, making Dustin nod enthusiastically.
"Yeah, exactly," Mike cut the man off. "If that did exist, a place like the Vale of Shadows, how would we travel there?"
"Theoretically," Lucas repeated for measure.
"Well…" Mr. Clarke thought for a moment, Mike watching closely as he grabbed a paper plate from the table and a pen from his pocket, clicking it and beginning to draw. "Picture...an acrobat...standing on a tightrope." He and his friends stared at the plate, brows pinched together. "Now, the tightrope is our dimension. And our dimension has rules. You can move forwards, or backwards," Mr. Clarke drew arrows on both sides of the stick figure, pointing at opposite ends of the plate, "But, what if...right next to our acrobat, there is a flea? Now, the flea can also travel back and forth, just like the acrobat. Right?"
"Right," Mike nodded, struggling to keep up.
"Here's where things get really interesting. The flea can also travel this way...along the side of the rope…" Mr. Clarke drew an arrow between the parallel lines with another underneath the 'tightrope'. "He can even go...underneath the rope."
Mike and his friends locked eyes, a look of understanding passing over their faces as they simultaneously muttered, "Upside Down."
"Exactly."
"But we're not the flea, we're the acrobat," Mike replied, wanting to make sure he was interpreting the example correctly.
Mr. Clarke nodded at him. "In this metaphor, yes, we're the acrobat."
"So we can't go upside down?" Lucas asked.
"No."
Dustin attempted to find a solution to the problem that had just been presented. "Well, is there any way for the acrobat to get to the Upside Down?"
"Well…" Mr. Clarke thought hard again before answering. "You'd have to create a massive amount of energy. More than humans are currently capable of creating, mind you, to open up some kind of tear in time and space, and then…" Their teacher folded the paper plate in half before poking a hole in it with his pen and yanking the pen back out. "You create a doorway."
"Like a gate?" Dustin asked with wide eyes.
"Sure. Like a gate," Mr. Clarke smiled. "But, again, this is all-"
"Theoretical," Lucas finished for him, nodding his head.
"But...but what if this gate already existed?" Mike asked, trying his best to sound nonchalant.
"Well, if it did, I...I think we'd know." Mr. Clarke looked around at them, seeming pretty sure of himself. "It would disrupt gravity, the magnetic field, our environment. Heck, it might even swallow us up whole. Science is neat. But I'm afraid it's not very forgiving."
Mike sighed and withdrew his hands from the table, glancing over at Dustin and Lucas. Based on the expressions on their face, they were just as stumped as he was.
"See you later, man. Good luck with the princess!"
Steve waved back at Tommy as his freckled friend and Carol walked to Tommy's car. Once they got in, he opened up his own car door and flopped into the driver's seat, sighing heavily before looking into the rear view mirror at his reflection. He cringed at what he saw.
Truthfully he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. He had tossed and turned for hours, unable to stop thinking about his interaction with Nancy behind the gym. As a result, his hair looked as if it had definitely seen better days. Tommy had suggested that Steve invite Nancy to the movies, and that had totally been his plan, but for some reason Nancy hadn't come back to school after she had left early the day before.
And she just plain didn't come at all that day.
Steve had even shown up early to wait for her in the parking lot. When that didn't pan out he checked her classes before and after each period, he looked for her during lunch. He even waited after school, but she was nowhere to be seen. Like she had just vanished.
Tommy and Carol had gotten quite the laugh out of that, accusing him of being ghosted. But they didn't get it. They were far too shallow to have any real connection, which was why they never fought. Instead they just made out on every surface they came across when they had a disagreement.
Steve sighed heavily again and leaned his head against his steering wheel. It just wasn't his day so far. Even weirder, and he normally wouldn't have noticed this in the first place, he was pretty sure that Byers and that Pierrot guy hadn't shown up for school either. Not that there was any chance the three were hanging out… but it was still a strange coincidence. And he didn't like not knowing what was going on.
Turning the key in the ignition of his BMW, Steve caught his reflection in the mirror once more, eyes narrowing.
If Nancy hadn't been at school, then that just meant he would have to go to her. He was going to make everything right. If he had to keep being the King of Hawkins, then Nancy was going to be his Queen. Steve's tires squealed as he peeled out of the Hawkins High School parking lot and headed toward the other side of town.
Officers Powell and Callahan climbed out of their squad car and meandered over to Hopper's trailer. They peered into the windows, searching for a sign of the men, and saw that the place had been demolished.
"Whoa," Callahan muttered before knocking on the door. "Hey, Chief! Whoa!" The man stepped back as Hopper threw open the door and waved a gun around. "Hey!"
Hopper stumbled out with the weapon aimed in the air, making both Powell and Callahan flinch and step farther away from him.
"Jesus, Chief," Powell exclaimed, noting Hopper's disheveled appearance. "You alright?"
"What are you doing here?" Hopper asked, shutting his door and turned to the two, gun now pointed downward.
"We tried calling, but-"
"Yeah, the phone's dead."
Callahan sighed deeply, as if processing that information before changing the subject. "Hey, so Bev Mooney came in this morning all upset. Said that Dale and Henry went hunting yesterday...and they didn't come back home."
"She thought they were on another binger, but she's not so sure now," Powell added.
"I think this whole Will Byers thing has everybody on edge."
"Where was this?" Hopper asked in a whisper.
"It was at the station," Callahan replied, visibly confused by the question.
"No, no." Hopper emphasized each syllable as he reworded the question, "Where did Henry and Dale go hunting?"
"Oh. Uh, out near Kerley."
"Mirkwood," Hopper said out loud as realization set in.
Powell frowned, glancing at the other officer briefly. "What?"
"Okay. You go back to the station." Hopper turned away from the men. "I'll take care of this, alright?"
"Are you sure?" Callahan asked, sounding very doubtful.
"Yeah, leave it." Hopper opened his front door and started to head back inside. Before he could disappear however, Callahan stopped him.
"Oh, hey. Uh, they found Barbara's car."
Hopper slowly stepped back out and shut his door again. "What?"
"Barbara Holland's car," Powell replied. "Seems she ran away after all. Staties found it late last night at a bus station."
"Funny, right? They keep doing our job for us," Callahan laughed.
Hopper narrowed his eyes at the man. "Yeah," he chuckled humorlessly. "It's funny." Turning around, he went back into his trailer without another word to his officers.
Callahan leaned against the side of the trailer, sharing a look with Powell. A minute later they were back in the squad car, Powell starting the vehicle while Callahan wondered aloud, "Is he off his meds again?"
"He's been spending too much time with Joyce Byers," Powell theorized. "That's what I think."
Mike watched Eleven flinch as he violently poked a hole into a folded sheet of notebook paper. When they had gotten home from Will's reception, he, Dustin, and Lucas had immediately begun trying to explain to her what Mr. Clarke had shared with them. "It would take a lot of energy to build a gate like this," he said. "But that's got to be what happened. Otherwise, how'd Will get there, right?"
Eleven gave a small nod. "Right." She was sitting on the basement couch next to him, as Lucas sat across from them and Dustin paced nearby.
"What we want to know is, do you know where the gate is?" Lucas asked. The girl shook her head and he sighed dramatically. "Then how do you know about the Upside Down?"
Mike stared between the two, waiting to see what else they would say. Eleven looked down at her hands before peering over at Dustin to watch him pace back and forth, holding something in his hand. Noticing her distraction, Mike and Lucas glanced over at him as well.
"Dustin, what are you doing?" Mike asked, narrowing his eyes when the boy didn't respond. "Dustin? Dustin!" But still Dustin didn't hear him.
"Dustin!" Lucas shouted.
Coming to a halt, Dustin looked up at them as if he had forgotten they were there. "I...I need to see your compasses.
"What?" Mike didn't see how compasses had anything to do with what they were talking about.
"Your compasses," Dustin said, uncharacteristically aggressive. "All of your compasses, right now!"
Mike shared a confused look with Lucas. Shortly thereafter the two had located every compass they owned. He and Lucas tossed them onto the flipped game board on the basement table, the Dungeons & Dragons guidebook still laying open to the page detailing the Vale of Shadows. Dustin turned each compass toward himself and examined them.
"What's exciting about this?" Mike asked, brows furrowed.
Dustin grinned at them like he had just discovered a buried treasure. "Well, they're all facing north, right?"
Mike was unimpressed. "Yeah, so," Lucas responded, equally unimpressed.
"Well, that's not true north."
Mike frowned, not following along. "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I just said. That's not true north. Are you both seriously this dense?" Lucas shrugged, clueless at what Dustin was getting at. Dustin sighed heavily and explained, "The sun rises in the east, and it sets in the west. Right? Which means that's true north." He pointed toward the wall opposite of them, toward what was the front side of the house.
Mike peered down at the compasses, which were indeed all pointed in the wrong direction. "So what you're saying is the compasses are broken," he said. He still didn't see how this mattered.
With another sigh, Dustin picked up one of the compasses and waved it at him. "Do you even understand how a compass works? Do you see a battery pack on this?"
"No," Mike replied. And for the record, he didn't appreciate the way he was being spoken to.
"No, you don't. Because it doesn't need one. The needle's naturally drawn to the Earth's magnetic North Pole." Dustin rolled his eyes and as set the compass back on the table.
Lucas looked down at it suspiciously. "So what's wrong with them."
"Well, that's what I couldn't figure out, but then I remembered. You can change the direction of a compass with a magnet. If there's the presence of a more powerful magnetic field, the needle deflects to that power," Dustin rambled excitedly. "And then I remembered what Mr. Clarke said. The Gate would have so much power-"
Mike understood now. "It would disrupt the electromagnetic field," he interrupted, suddenly finding a newfound respect for Dustin's brainpower.
"Exactly," Dustin nodded.
"Meaning, if we follow the compasses' north…" Lucas worked through what was being explained.
"They should lead us to the Gate," Dustin nodded again, a relieved expression washing over his face now that his friends were caught up to speed.
Eleven, who had been listening closely to the conversation, looked away from them. Excited as they were with this new information, the failed to notice the deepening in her breathing, or the way in which her eyes shifted around the basement fearfully.
It hadn't taken very long for Steve to reach Nancy's house. And it totally wasn't because he had been speeding the entire drive there.
He strolled up the driveway, seeing that the garage door was open, and furrowed his brows when he noticed Nancy was standing inside of said garage holding a wooden baseball bat. Questions of why she had skipped school left his mind as he now questioned what the hell she was doing.
Nancy held the bat up and took a few practice swings. The momentum of the final swing caused her to turn on the spot so that she was no longer facing Steve as he approached her. He recoiled backward when she suddenly spun and narrowly missed his head with the bat.
"Whoa, whoa, hey, whoa, whoa," Steve yelped.
Nancy also jumped back with a shout before exhaling loudly. "What are you doing here?"
Steve watched carefully, waiting for her to lower the bat before he answered. Once she did he stared at the bat incredulously. "What are you doing?" He asked.
"Nothing," She shrugged.
Wildly swinging a bat around wasn't really nothing in his opinion. Did this have something to do with their argument? "I hope that's not meant for me," Steve admitted cautiously as he stuck his right hand in his front pocket. He didn't think he had been that big of a dick.
"What?" Nancy flashed him a confuse look. He pointed at the bat with his left hand and she stammered, "No. Oh, no, I was just...thinking about joining softball." Her eyebrows did that thing they did when she was lying.
Steve frowned and shifted both hands to his back pockets, trying to make sure he seemed as genuine as possible for what he was about to say. "Oh. Well, uh...listen, I'm really sorry." He apologized partly because he meant it and partly because she had nearly decapitated him. "I mean, even before you threatened me with the baseball bat." He moved past her and leaned his back against the front of Mr. Wheeler's car.
"Okay," Nancy replied blankly.
Steve sighed, refusing to meet her eyes. "I panicked and…" He sighed again, shaking his head and searching for the right words. "I mean I was a total dick."
"Yeah, you were."
The fact that he had just said that meant he hadn't really needed her to emphasize it, but okay…she was clearly in a mood. He sighed a third time, suddenly a little more apprehensive.
Nancy looked around awkwardly before asking, "Did you get in trouble with your parents?" Oh, he definitely had. But he didn't want to talk about that.
"Totally, but...you know, who cares?" Steve shrugged and shook his head again, pretending it didn't bother him. "Screw 'em. Any news about Barbara?" Nancy moved her head back and forth slowly. "Parents heard from her? Or…"
He watched her grip the baseball bat tight. "No," Nancy answered flatly.
Damn, he had kind of been hoping Barb had just ran off temporarily. That kinda made this next bit a little uncomfortable, but he came here for a reason. He stepped forward, putting on an air of confidence.
"Hey, listen. Why don't we, uh, why don't we catch a movie tonight, you know?" Steve stared deep into her eyes, as if eye contact would be enough to persuade her. "Just kinda pretend everything's normal for a few hours. All the Right Moves is still playing. You know, with your lover boy from Risky Business?"
It turned out that Carol and Nancy both really liked Tim Crow, or whatever that actor's name was. That had been the inspiration for this specific movie pick.
Nancy looked at the ground when he smiled at her. "Yeah, I know," she admitted, a small grin forming on her face.
He felt a weight lift off of his shoulders with the smile. Maybe Tommy had been right. Maybe she did just need to blow off some steam. He took her small grin as a sign to continue.
"You know, Carol thinks I actually kinda look like him. What do you think? Huh?" Steve turned his face to the side and pointed at his cheek, then grabbed her bat and held it up to his mouth like a microphone, starting to sing. "Just take those old records off the shelf!" He nodded his head dramatically. "I'll sit and listen to them by myself." He stopped when Nancy suddenly began to fidget awkwardly.
"I just, I...I don't think I can," Nancy replied. "I've been really busy with this whole funeral thing and...with my brother. It's been really hard on him."
Steve didn't need the eyebrow signal this time. He could tell that she was lying from her voice alone. He looked at the floor, deflating, and nodded. "Yeah, sure. Sure, yeah, yeah." The weight that had been lifted crashed back down, now joined by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. With her, or with himself, he couldn't tell.
"So…" Nancy drawled when he kept standing there, making him look back at her for a moment.
Steve realized that the lie had been his cue to leave. "I should go."
"Sorry," Nancy shrugged. Steve straightened up and smiled softly at her. She must have sensed his disappointment because she added, "I'll call you later. Is that okay?" He nodded weakly and she kissed his cheek, a clear attempt to make him think she wasn't saying no because of him. He didn't buy it though.
"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Steve nodded, patting her arm and turning to saunter off, beginning to sing again. "Just take those old records off the shelf! I'll sit and listen to them by myself." As soon as he had made it a few feet away from the garages he sighed, taking his hands out of his pockets and adjusting his jacket.
The sting of rejection. And the worst part was that he wasn't even sure what he had done. Maybe Tommy had been wrong, maybe Nancy wasn't interested.
He was starting to feel stupid for thinking that she had been his girlfriend in the first place. Yeah, she never officially agreed to that, but he thought it was obvious that he wanted to date her. Maybe he had just been a hookup for her. A way to enter the dating scene with a bang. Who better to lose your virginity to than the top dog on campus?
Steve huffed as he made his way down the driveway, head swirling with dark thoughts. He had parked about four houses down the club-de-sac, not wanting the sound of his car to give him away when he tried to surprise Nancy. Some surprise that was. Here he was walking away, shot down like a loser. He looked up to see his car about fifty feet away from where he currently stood. He had just passed the third house when his brooding was interrupted by a voice suddenly echoing through the air.
"And so, turned away by the girl who would be Queen..." Steve's head whipped up, trying to locate the voice. "King Steven did depart, wondering if he was truly happy with the current state of his court."
To his right, he saw nothing but the empty street and sidewalk, houses stretching along both sides. There was a metal fence beside one particular house, with a dog that was barking loudly. But he didn't speak dog so that definitely couldn't be who had just spoken.
As he continued to search, Steve's eyes landed on an object sitting in the grass to his left. It appeared to be an easel of some kind. But he couldn't see behind it, due largely in part to the canvas blocking his view. He looked back around before carefully approaching the easel from the side. His view gradually increased more and more as he moved, and stopped in surprise when a familiar face appeared.
"Are you, like, following me or something?" Steve asked before he could stop himself.
Valentin Pierrot, whose name he had no trouble remembering anymore despite the fact he had trouble remembering everyone's name, tilted his head and stared at him.
"This is my front yard," the blond boy replied, the corners of his mouth dipping down with what Steve could only guess was disapproval.
"Oh," Steve replied dumbly. Well, that explained why he had seen him walking down that same street the other night. And he felt very embarrassed.
He shifted awkwardly and examined the quiet boy, taking in his all black attire. The guy was dressed like he had just come from a funeral. Like getting hit by a rock, Steve felt the realization of what he had just observed rush through him. And he suddenly really wanted to kick himself.
The guy looked like he had just come from a funeral because, based on his association with Byers lately, he probably had just been at a funeral. Will Byers' funeral. He also realized that the funeral had been the reason Pierrot, Byers and Nancy had missed school.
Man, he really was a jerk.
Almost as if the guy had heard something funny, Pierrot let out an empty chuckle, drawing Steve's attention back to the boy that still stared at him. He moved his gaze up and examined the house behind the painting teen. It was only one story, and slightly run down in appearance. His embarrassment was replaced with suspicion as, yet again in the span of twenty seconds, what he was looking at registered in his brain.
That couldn't be right. Steve looked back at Nancy's house, quite small in the distance behind him, before turning again to the house in front of him. "I thought this house was abandoned." He was pretty sure it was fairly common knowledge in Hawkins that nobody lived at that address. In fact, he was pretty sure he had heard a ghost story or two about it being haunted, just like the old Creel house.
"Could the same not be said of your house when you are not home?" The quiet boy asked, returning his focus to the easel once more.
Well, Steve guessed he had a point. If it weren't for him being there all the time, the Harrington house would seem empty too. It wasn't like his parents were ever home. He looked back the other boy, who had gone back to… painting? There was a brush in his hand, and he was sitting in front of an easel, so painting was the best bet.
"I take it, then, that she did not accept your apology," Pierrot said after a brief period of silence.
Steve groaned, because of course the blond had heard about his and Nancy's issues. He was really starting to get fed up with the weird teen sticking his nose where it didn't belong. "You know... that's not really any of your business."
It probably wasn't very fair to take his frustration out on a stranger, but he didn't really care at the moment. And neither did the other boy, if the second empty chuckle was any indication.
"If everybody minded their own business, the world would go round a deal faster than it does."
He wasn't quite sure what that meant, but at this point he was beginning to accept that it was just going to be that way with the other teen. Never quite fully understanding what the blond was talking about.
He glanced over to his car, fighting the urge to leave. He really wanted to, but… instead he looked back at where the other boy was sitting. Steve watched the boy's admittedly delicate hands move back and forth, admittedly graceful. The guy clearly wasn't the manly type. That probably played a hand in all of the rumors about him.
"What are you painting, anyway?" Steve finally asked, deciding to stick around and learn more about the weird stranger. He heard another soft chuckle from behind the canvas, but unlike the previous two this one had actually sounded genuine. It was the first time the other boy's voice had sounded anything other than empty.
It was also very strange to hear the guy laugh in general.
"You know…" Pierrot's eyes turned and locked with his. "That is not really any of your business."
Seriously? This damn guy had to make everything so damn difficult!
"Fine!" Steve felt the heat spread on his cheeks. He wasn't about to stand around and be teased by some stranger. "That's what I get for trying to be friendly." He immediately turned and stomped away, not waiting for a response. As he made his back to his car, he muttered under his breath about not wanting to see the damn painting anyway.
The sound of tires squealing against the pavement filled the air as Steve sped off.
If he had bothered to step around the easel, he would have seen that the strange boy was painting a forest. A very familiar forest, one that ended just outside of his house.
A/N: It's probably very clear from the way his sections are written that Steve is my favorite character. I love Joe Keery too, but Steve is the GOAT. If I could pick a character from any work of fiction in all of history to be my best friend it would be Steve.
So.. what is up with that weird student, huh? What does he want? Why is he so awkward? Anyone have any theories? Do people even read these notes to answer that question?
Until our stars next align!