Oh.
That was all that Eddie said after Joan had spilt everything to him in the light weed smelling living room. There was a silence and then the metalhead silently walked out of the house leaving Joan to stare down at the carpet in a whirlwind of emotions.
The first person to know that no, she wasn't that Joan, just left her.
She laughed at herself cruelly, before giving in to the exhaustion begging her to lay down and sleep. She walked sluggishly upstairs into a second bedroom that did not hold a make shift interrogation chamber and laid down over the bed sheets, trying to push aside the mental question of when the bed was last cleaned and made.
Instead she spiraled down the path of where Eddie Munson could possibly be in the future. While she wasn't a huge devourer of old school rock and metal, she figured someone from Hawkins High School who made it in the industry would have been known by her. Especially someone so close to her dad.
Hopefully in the future he isn't creeped out by the fact that he lost his virginity to...
Oh God, no.
Joan's eyes widened at the implication and shook it from her head, praying that she never would meet Eddie Munson in her future. With that last thought bouncing around, Joan drifted off into a dreamless sleep ignoring the soft ticking melting into the background with what sounded like smooth scribbles on parchment.
Ha.
As if she'd be so lucky.
Joan's eyes snapped open quickly as she recognized the familiar feeling up infinity slither down her skin salaciously. In front of her was already a scene unfamiliar to her with characters she remembered clearly.
Who she assumed to be Agatha-Joan giggled on one of the Harrington's couches next to Patrick while holding onto a red solo cup nearing empty. Around them sat various jocks and preps, including Steve himself and a few other seniors she only knew briefly from parties or outings with the girls. She knew they couldn't hear or see her, yet Joan took slow steps over to the crowd giggling and laughing loudly, talking animatedly while smoking what she assumed could only be weed.
"Totally got that freak good last night." A random senior chuckled out, his voice echoing around them, as he let out a sigh of smoke and passed it on to his girlfriend, exchanging snickers with his buddies over the matter. "Threw his little demonic dice summoning set in the toilet. Watching him scramble his hands in the toilet bowl was disgusting."
Girls let out complaints of the vulgarity, but still giggled. Guys laughed loudly and some offered a pat on the shoulder in congratulations.
"Yeah, well, still can't beat what Jo and Pat did to that other freak." The senior looked over at the couple, tossing his cup up in a toast to being cruel. "Hats off for pulling that show off."
Joan felt sick as she watched her doppelgänger accept the toast happily, drinking with the others while Patrick seemed to sigh as he barely took a sip. It was surreal that Dustin would name his daughter after someone like that.
"He hasn't been at school for, like, a week." Joan looked over at the familiar voice of Missy smirking into her cup. "You know what the rumors are right?"
"I overheard his older cousin talking about it when I went to go buy some shit from the freak. You know the fat one who sits at their table while everyone holds their breath in hopes he doesn't tip it?" Laughs went around at the joke. The basketball player who had spoken up taking a long puff of the blunt and chuckling to himself. "Man, Munson may be a freak, but he does have some uses."
Surprisingly enough, Jason Carver denied a hit of the blunt, taking it without a fuss and passing it off to the next in line - some cheerleader no longer on the team. Joan waited for him to speak up, but he neither laughed nor roasted. Jason had never been someone she hated because every time he spoke out was only in protection, never malicious like the rest of the group could be. He was just a little... eccentric?
"I'm lost." Chrissy said softly from her spot, fiddling with the edges of her jacket. Joan walked over to the image with her heart in her throat and examined the shy girl closely as if she could keep her there forever. Around her, there were chuckles and people looked over at the basketball player who had bought the weed expectantly.
"Awe, well, kid hasn't been in school since his little band crush stopped talking to him." The guy shrugged, leaning back against the cushioned couch and spoke words that made Joan's ears ring. "Apparently the coward tried to kill himself."
There were mixed reactions around that room.
Chrissy covered her mouth in shock; Jason let out a soft sigh and looked away from the crowd; Steve looked around awkwardly while he attempted to laugh with the others.
Patrick froze mid sip.
And Agatha-Joan laughed joyously.
Slowly the scene faded away and Joan was left with a sick feeling in her stomach, hand over her mouth and core as if to call herself down. She wasn't given much time to process before a new scene alerted her through the sound of a slamming door.
In the void was only Agatha-Joan stumbling and Patrick, the latter of whom paced the length of the room nervously and almost frantically while the former sat clumsily on the edge of the bed.
"W-what's got your panties in a bunch?"
Patrick froze in front of his girlfriend, looking down at her in disbelief, eyes wide and jaw slack at the total lack of awareness on her part.
"...do you have no guilt over the fact that we basically were the number one reason a kid tried to kill himself?!" Agatha-Joan shrugged and Patrick shook his head in disbelief, rubbing his cheeks aggressively as the night played over and over again. "I know you aren't that cruel, Jo! It's not-!"
"Like me?" She scoffed rolling her eyes and examining the paint on her nails. "No Patty, I don't feel bad for the waste of space. I only feel bad that he didn't succ-!"
Joan sucked in a breath at the heavy slap that fell across her twin's face, Agatha-Joan's head knocked to the side from the force of it. Patrick looked from the brunette to his hand in stunned silence before taking a step away from the girl.
"Did it feel good, Patrick?" Agatha-Joan whispered soothingly while her head slowly turned towards the close to tears boy. "You were in on it too. Don't throw your self hate onto me because you are just as guilty as me. I only loaded the gun, baby. You made the shot."
All of a sudden Joan was in the middle of Steve's backyard with a party in full swing, the only visible parts of it being the people, house structure, chairs, and pool. She watched with increasing disturbance as Gareth was given more and more alcohol and egged on by those around him into talking about embarrassing stories from not just his life, but other Hellfire member's as well.
Which led to him writing a name on his forehead in what had seemed to him like a romantic gesture.
R O B I N 3
Then he splashed into the pool and Joan cried for him as the scene faded away to leave her alone. It wasn't fair, none of it was, she thought as she sat down and shoved her face into her knees.
"I want to go home."
"I want to go home."
"I want to go home."
All that greeted her was her own echo noisily bouncing off of the endless nothing around her to play back to her on loop. She tried to block it out with hands over her ears until the pressure in her chest could no longer be held back and a scream ripped out of her to appease guilty monster within.
"ⱼₒₐₙ."
Joan looked up to see herself kneeling in front of her with those damn sad eyes. It wasn't the Joan who had stolen her body and tormented others harshly, but it was the one who spoke like she was underwater and dripped from her hair and body wherever she went.
"What... what do you want?" Joan finally asked tiredly, feeling defeat wash through her in an acceptance. "Why... why?"
"Wₕₐₜ ᵢ cₐₙ'ₜ ₕₐᵥₑ." An almost self deprecating smile spread across the twin's face as she blinked softly and let the echo transpire around them. "ₘₒᵣₑ ₜᵢₘₑ."
"What's that supposed to mean?! I-I don't understand!" Joan hissed out with her hair in her fists at the scalp. "Just spell it out, stop with the riddles for the love of God!"
Cold hands landed on her cheeks and Joan looked into kind eyes as her tears were wiped away. Slowly, the distorted Joan took Joan's hands away from her head and helped her up, grabbing one of them firmly. There was an almost motherly tenderness from the stranger that had Joan missing her mom for the millionth time.
Slowly a hand was placed on her forehead and Joan's eyes fluttered shut only to watch nearly a lifetime play out in front of her so vividly that it felt light a punch to the stomach. It was chaotic and beautiful all the same dancing with the time line of the past as she listen to the soft, distorted voice of Agatha-Joan narrate parts of her life, filling in some of the mysteries of her life.
Playing with Dustin until the sun was passed the horizon, waking up with a mustache drawn on her face from the Holloway household, learning piano with her grandmother, developing stories for the boys to dive into, drawing a heart around Patrick's name in her notebook, baking brownies with her mother, laughing loudly with Chrissy...
It was all told so eloquently with a peace that could only be described as beautiful, until panic filled the distorted JoanMs voice and the scenes around her turned staticky and slowly red skies started to bleed into a memory of Agatha-Joan sitting peacefully in the woods behind their home.
Joan blinked a few times and the soft spoken Agatha-Joan spawned in front of her, grabbing her by the forearms and looking deeply into her eyes with fear all over her.
"ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ."
"Who? Who's coming?!"
"ⁿᵒ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ." Agatha-Joan let out a shaky breath and looked behind her at a peaceful past almost longingly. She shook her head and looked back at Joan with desperate eyes, voice the clearest it had ever been. "ᵀʰᵉ ʲᵒᵘʳⁿᵃˡ, ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵗᵉˡˡ ᵃⁿʸᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ."
"Wait, I don't understand." Joan repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, trying to grab onto the girl as she started to let go her go and move away. Like a ghost, her aunt seemed to fade away with a face of regret. "Don't leave! Just speak straight and tell me-!"
"Jo-an." A deceptively sweet voice sang out behind her, successfully bringing her attention to a bloody Heather next to an equally hurt Billy with a striking hole in his chest. All the blood in Joan's face left along with the air in her lungs at the grim reminder of two teens she was unable to save. "I'm so glad you could join us."