~Sierra~

Green eyes to green eyes, both flooding with tears. Soul to soul. A mother to her daughter. One lost person to another. For what seemed like an eternity, this woman, who seemed more like a stranger to me now, and I gazed at one another. They were gazes of wonder, intrigue, guilt. Rosa Nightingale truly was a figure to behold. The glare of the headlights illuminated her slender, tall frame, a thin beige sweater both clinging and hanging off of her. Her raven corkscrew curls were glamorously wild, a contradiction in itself. She appeared both totally put together and yet so chaotic. It amazed me to finally see that she hadn't just been a myth to exist solely in the chambers of my mind. Wordlessly, I followed her into the car which as I grew closer, realized it was a jet black, freshly waxed, Chevrolet Cavalier.

"Shit, this is one hell of a fancy car!"

Sorrow rushed up my throat and I suddenly let out a whimper as the uncontrollable, hot tears cascaded from my eyes. God, he was meant to look at my car tomorrow. We were sat by the grassy banks of The Communion, our toes dipped in the placid water, when I'd told him I had a flat tyre. Billy had tenderly brushed a kiss on my forehead and told me not to worry, he'd be there to sort it out. But, now, Billy wasn't going to fix my tyre. He wasn't going to kiss my forehead again, nor was he going to learn about how despite seeing my mother for the first time in over 2 years, all I could hear was his voice.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry" she whispered. Her voice was as soft as silk - smooth, easy, a comfort and a luxury. There was no other way to describe the words flowing from her lips. I closed my eyes, pressing my balmy palms against them, and envisioned myself in silk, pastel pink pajamas, hopping from cloud to cloud effortlessly. That's how it felt hearing her voice again. Reaching over, I found myself seeking shelter in her arms. They felt like how home should feel. "I came as soon as the maid from our old house told me you'd called. A new girl had answered the phone and hadn't said a word about it until yesterday evening. When she told Nelly, she was on the phone to me. I nearly drove to your grandparents because I saw all the lights were out, until I saw the gate was open. I'm so glad you called, my love" A muffled squeak escaped past her composure, and in seconds, we were both sobbing wrecks, clutching onto each other as if we were each other's lifelines. "I'm so sorry, Sierra. You've been through too much"

Fuck, how could I even answer that one? The pressuring, people-pleaser in me yearned to casually waft a hand in some pretense, like it had all been a piece of cake. Billy had often spoken of masks. This one was mine: a girl who had it all together, who was unbroken and could take everything on the chin. But, when I took the mask off, it was a fragmented version of that girl. The reality was this girl was exhausted, wondering when it would all come to an end so she could begin her own life. I couldn't keep up the pretense I was okay anymore. I just couldn't.

"It's been fucking awful" I wept, the stinging tears ceaseless. The tornado of every emotion I had experienced swept up the control I had struggled to muster each day since she'd gone, my tangled mind finally showing itself on my scrunched up face. Torrents of strained sobs carelessly abandoned my body. This was heartache and it was goddamn suffocating. "I just wanted to go to fucking California with my boyfriend, go to college and I can't because I have to protect Zack from my bastard of a father, because I'm so goddamn scared he's going to hurt him like he has to me. Grandpa is dying, the one person I've actually loved left me and I don't know who I fucking am. You fucking left me!" I desperately tried to get another sentence out, but I eventually surrendered to the broken words and buried my hands in my head. Scrambling to seize any random thought was leaving its smokey, destructive path and only I was feeling it. Jesus, I was going to throw up. "I came back here because I wanted to figure it out. I don't live here anymore. I live with Nana and I fucking hate it. I hate it because for two years, I've been the parent, I've been the responsible one. And now, whenever she so much as offers to do my laundry, i I want to scream at her for offering to do something to help me out. I can't accept help and it's fucking destroying me. So, I came back to figure it out"

"Figure what out, Sierra?"

I remained silent, trying to heed the buzzing of every thought ready to come pouring out. There was so many things to figure out. Life, where I was going, who I was, what I was. But then, there was Zack. Who was he going to be, where was he going?

Just what exactly was I meant to be figuring out?

Was I actually meant to be figuring out anything or just going with the rapid flow that was life?

There was so much I felt she couldn't, wouldn't , understand. I caught a glimpse of my nostrils flaring in frustration in the sun visor mirror. Everywhere was tense. Giving up was on the horizon and it was a sweet temptation to both go towards it and avoid it at all costs. I was on the precipice of either getting out of the car and following wherever the street lights took me or breaking completely. I wasn't sure if it was seeing the glaring red in my puffy eyes or the streaks of mascara staining my skin which started this train of thought off. I had no idea where I could start or end. Just that I was here. I was here, in the car of a mother I thought had lost me, pushing my back against the leather seat in some hope I could remain present. But I kept on getting swept in the winds of both the past and future. I looked back in the mirror, the reflection staring back at me enough to startle my heart. Black, translucent streaks stained my face, clumps of mascara clinging to my long eyelashes. God, I was a wreck. It was the present, I was the present and there was no escaping the thoughts scratching viciously at my brain.

"There's been so many morning's I've woken up and just wanted to fall out of my window. Do you know what it's like to try so badly to get it all right, to try and help this little human be the best he can be, when you don't even know how to do it yourself?" My eyes darted to her, desperate and curious to see how she was responding. Slowly, she nodded, her eyes gleaming with tears. She held them back and remained fixated on me. There was a glimmer of acknowledgement in her eyes, tainted by the unbearable reality that she'd shoved it all onto me before my time. "I love Zack so much. I'd do anything for him" I solemnly shook my head, watching the tears drop onto my bare lap. I was still wearing Billy's shirt. It smelt of his unique scent of smoke and musk, his love, his hope for me to join him in the sunshine. I so badly wanted to be with him there. "But there's so much I want to do for myself and I feel like its been stolen from me. I want to go to college because I have enough intelligence and drive to make something of myself. I want to go to California with my boyfriend because I've never been in so much goddamn love with someone else in my life and I want to feel free. I want to go on hikes with my friends and get rid of this goddamn clock droning in my head all the time"

"Do you think the clock is time racing on?" I wasn't expecting her to ask that. Hell, I wasn't expecting to let on so much as an inkling. I wondered if she'd respond to my revelations of the Upside Down well or if she'd straight up get me sectioned. "Signifying an end or a deadline?"

I shrugged my shoulders and snagged the sun visor down again to see how much damage these tears had on my face.

"More than you know" I mumbled and slumped back in the chair. It was all gone - the sadness, the anger. Now, I just had to sit with nothing. Sitting with nothing was worse than sitting with the emotions. Because now, it was a void and I had no idea how to fill it or if it was even a good idea to do that.

"You shouldn't have to have a reason for why you want to do those things, Sierra" Once again, the silken voice infiltrated my tangled mind and managed to work its way around it. I nodded, understanding she was right.

"I know why you left. I don't want to have any malice towards you for doing it" I bluntly replied.

For some weird reason, fumbling around with my hands, a microscope on every flaw, was soothing. Bronzed, indiscernible swirls in my fingers were like marble. Under my nail beds were grains of salt I had pinched during dinner tonight. I could still taste the bland lasagna mingled with the onset of morning breath. Jesus, I needed to get a hold of some toothpaste.

I was lying to her. I did have malice towards her for leaving. Why was I fucking lying? To save her from the truth? My body sagged, desiring nothing more than to fold like a lousy, first-grade origami. The metaphorical questions in scribbles pretty much showed in my tired, miserable features. Brows knitted together was a translation for, "I know why you left. I understand. But Jesus, why do I feel so shit about it?". Downturned, flooded eyes were, "I want my boyfriend back. I want to rewind 12 hours so I can tell him I'll come to California". A solemn sigh, "I just want to sleep".

"But, I understand if you do. You need to know though, I tried so hard to get you back, baby" Despite trying to be a calm, understanding adult, her face betrayed her. A teardrop rolled down her freckled cheek, redefining the nature of our entire relationship. She wasn't just my Mom - she was human. She was my equal, a nuanced woman who could be outwardly composed and frail. She bit the inside of her wobbling lip. I placed my hand gingerly on hers and she smiled slightly, letting out a small laugh. "Your dad has a lot of friends in high places. As soon as I left, I tried for full custody, explaining I'd left him for reasons we both know of. But he managed to convince the judge, I'd had an affair and had full intentions to leave, how I'd been using him for money, used my parents being immigrants as a justification. Long story short, he got full custody. I tried to come back so many times. Your dad - "

"You can call him Anthony" I abruptly said. I understood why Billy used to refer to his dad as 'him' now. Sighing, I regained some sense of calm. "Sorry"

"It's okay, I get it" She paused, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "He'd hired some guys. Sent threatening letters to my home, to Robert's workplace. If I tried to get out of the car to approach the house, there was some buff honcho by my car window. It terrified me and when I found out I was pregnant, I just didn't know what to do. I knew if I tried anything else, it could make things worse for you and Zack. And it did. He pretended Zack had done some drawings of me hurting him and threatened that if I came near, he'd show them to the judge. I tried to call and he'd change the numbers. After I saw you at your grandparents, the last time I saw you, the next day, I had a package of copies of these drawings and a note that said, "Don't push me, R" in his handwriting. We had to move house"

"God, what a piece of shit" I breathed out. It all made sense now. Everything from why I hadn't seen or heard from her, why there was barely a trace of her now. Both sadness and fury created themselves anew just for what she must have gone through. Imagine knowing your daughter resents you, knowing your son has a blurry image of you in his memories, and it was all out of your hands. I could only feel a fraction of the heartache she must have. "And you have evidence of him doing all of this?"

She bowed her head, the gentle motion of her curls indicating that no such evidence existed.

"If there's ever one thing I have to credit your fath - sorry, Anthony - for, is he is a clever man. He knows when to play by the book and when to inconspicuously drift from the first page" she sighed and joined me in slackening her back against the seat, molding into the odd comfort it offered. "I have the drawings. It's about proving he did it"

Silence lingered for a few seconds as we pondered on all that we'd revealed. Slipping Through My Fingers by ABBA played, and in subconscious unison, our bodies swayed along. Trickles of our soft laughter harmoniously complimented the song. Any sorrow lifted slightly, replaced with a warm, bittersweet nostalgia.

"Why now, Mom?" It was the final question. The only thing I needed to know. "If he still has these threats, then why now?"

She remained quiet, eyes cast downward, as she reflected on the appropriate words.

"Because you found me" She paused for a second, peering up with watery eyes. I was too scared before, but when Nelly told me you'd called, I realized that must have taken so much courage. I didn't want to be scared anymore, and I didn't want you to be either. I'm done with that man ruining people's lives" Earnestly, she held my hands in hers. Everything about her was silk. It was the closest to home I had. "Sweetheart, I want you to look at me" My eyes fluttered up to meet hers. I was almost startled by them. It was like looking in the mirror. A bright beam of hope and determination glimmered in hers, and it was only then, I knew she was making a pact. "You are going to go to California. You are going to go to college. You are going to live your life. You're not Zack's mom - I am, and I'm yours too, and we're not going to let Anthony fucking Nightingale dictate us anymore"

I was in utter awe, as seen by my jaw hanging open. This was no deception, no fantasy. No, Rosa Nightingale was ready to slay and she wasn't leaving without Anthony's metaphoric severed head in hand.

"Now, what would you like to do?" she asked, firing up the engine.

"Honestly?" I laughed, the corners of my mouth effortlessly rising.

"Of course!"

"I'd kill for a hamburger right now"

And so, we went to a drive through. I wasn't sure if she was desperately trying to please me or actually gave a shit. Despite all the revelations made tonight, I felt my spine bristle whenever I so much as glanced at her. She ordered a hamburger for me, a chocolate milkshake for herself. Once we were parked in a bay, she took a long, refined and dignified sip.

"God, I miss these things" she sighed, taking another little sip.

"Just go to town on it, Mom" I furrowed my brows at her. Who exactly was she? Grace and elegance versus a woman so clearly wanting to down the goddamn thing. I lowered my eyes to see a necklace glittering under the florescent light of a street lamp. It was a fine, golden necklace with small initial pendants - S, Z and M.

I nodded at them. "Who's M?"

The corners of her mouth curled upwards and she held the M pendant in between her finger and thumb, gently brushing it.

"Marigold. Your little sister" she softly announced. "She reminds me a lot of you. She has a lot of sass"

"Enjoy it while it lasts. Sass turns quickly into sarcasm" I muttered in a drone voice and took an unsatisfied bite into the dry hamburger. The nausea hadn't exactly subsided yet. "Are you still a housewife?"

Inwardly, I slapped myself. What a demeaning question to ask. She had no choice but to be a housewife because of my dad. Retrospectively through the lens of a grown girl, I realized how fake her smiles and titters of laughter had been with the rest of the moms when she'd pick me up from school. Inside, she was screaming and yearning to speak of anything other than whether kids were shitting okay and the latest recipe she'd tested from Woman's Weekly. Hell, she had an entire library with the bookcases teeming of classics and philosophy. In Hawkins, the books were the only things who understood her, her sole friends. If she'd had a choice and chosen to dedicate her life to domestic duties, then it would be another story entirely. At least it would have been an active choice. But, it wasn't. He'd trapped her in this cycle of clean, cook, act happy.

"No, not anymore" She cast her gaze downwards, pursing her lips. "During my pregnancy, Robert encouraged me to look into some part-time courses. I got pretty bored in the house, so started doing aerobics and well, turns out there's not a whole loads of pregnant ladies doing it, so I did a fitness instructor course and I do a lot of classes for pregnant women, some Mommy and Baby classes too. Mainly yoga and aerobics. A lot of us became friends, we have a little book club going on a Wednesday night" She was smiling to herself, but still couldn't look me in the eye. This was an entirely different life to the one I'd lived with her. Had I ever really lived with her or had she created another world for us? One without crying, beatings and depression. As she found it within herself to finally look at me, I looked down to my lap. "You would have graduated now, right?"

"Yup. Last month. I've got an internship with Hawkins Post now with Nancy" I said. I nibbled on the hamburger bread, restraining myself from gagging. I was still on the cusp of a full blown panic attack. All I was doing was hiding it well.

"That's great! And you and Nancy are still friends?" I nodded, the rustle of the paper bag I placed my hamburger back into being my only response. "And what about Steve? You guys were the best of friends"

"Yeah, we're still chill. He's still obsessed with his hair" I permitted a snort of laughter to free itself before returning back to my veiled anxiety-ridden state. "How did you and - did you say his name was Robert?"

"Mmhmm"

"How did you and Robert meet?"

"He worked for the mayor at one point. Your dad met him during the initial negotiations with Stargate Enterprises" she said quietly. A bright redness flooded her cheeks. "Sorry, Anthony. He met Anthony during the negotiations" I could see an slight tick in her eyes when she said his name. He'd marked her with his anger and violence to the point where she couldn't even say his name and it was devastating to see. "He was invited to one of your dad's parties in 1982. He was kind to me, made me laugh quite a lot" She paused, having another deserving sip of the chocolate milkshake. "Do you remember him?"

I shook my head. Whatever image I'd potentially had of him was burned along with the photos the night she left.

"There were a lot of people at those parties" I muttered, trying to find something else to distract me.

"He really tried to get you and Zack to come home, Sierra"

I let out a sharp, derisive laugh.

"Home?" I rolled down my window before groaning into my hands, shielding them from the torrential rain outside. We hadn't expected rain. I guessed there were a lot of things I hadn't expected tonight though. "Your home isn't my home, Mom"

"Sorry, I was out of line. I just..." She released a shuddering, heavy sigh. Her hands were quivering, the S pendant pinched tightly between her fingers. "Your home was with me. It was always with me, and I kicked you out"

I watched for a few moments as the serene calm abandoned her. Now, she was just as haunted by anxiety as me.

"Mom, I'm sorry" I said curtly. My voice, outside the realm of the panic attack sneaking up on me, was hostile. She was right - she had kicked me out. And now, she wanted me to come straight back. "Look, just fucking yell at me"

"Wha - why would I yell at you? You're fully entitled to feel anger towards me, Sierra" She frantically wiped her tears, leaving stains down her freckled face. "I left you"

"Yeah, you did, and yes, I've felt like shit ever since. There's been so many times I just wanted to come home to you. That letter you sent? It took me two years to open it. Two goddamn years. Wanna know why? Because I was scared. I thought you'd just upped and left me. I was furious, I was hurt and above all, I was scared shitless" I tutted at myself and vowed to cut the monologue short. "You should yell at me because I'm being a complete bitch"

"No" This was the strength she'd shown earlier. It was resilient, unmoving. Was I subconsciously testing to see how far she'd go? "I don't yell, Sierra. Yes, you are acting hostile, but I was expecting this. It's okay for you to be angry"

I remembered the night we'd hoarded off the Demodogs. Harrington and I had baseball bats thrust into our hands and told to break a coffee cup into a million fragments. I'd said then, "Anger begets anger". And yet, I was the angriest of them all. Harrington and Billy had told me it was okay to be angry. Mom was telling me it was okay to be angry. But those deserving of my anger weren't even so much as catching of glimpse of it. I was an accident, I was never meant to be in this situation and it was the origin of all this pent up rage. Others had forced me into a difficult position and I was feeling the wrath of its consequences.

"Do those yoga classes of yours help with anger?" I flopped my head to the side and reached over to wipe one of her tears. She gingerly held my fingers and brushed a loving kiss on the palm of my hand.

"Do you want to find out?"

I paused, and waited for a moment just to savor the moment. I was home.

"I'd like that a lot"

~Billy~
One Week Later…

Pulsing in my ears was the sweet sound of Metallica. God, this is just what I needed. The sour taste of pale ale tingled on my tastebuds and the combined energy of the steady stream of strangers dancing under the moonlight was enough to keep me going. As I moved through the haze of thick smoke towards the beer keg, I forcibly pushed aside the memory of her red dress as I won the title of 'Keg King' all those months ago. I was in California now. Hawkins and Sierra were long behind me. As soon as she had left, I'd packed my bag and started heading to the bus station where I was taking a one way ticket to Chicago. But not without one last stop at her house. I wanted to say goodbye. I wanted to tell her I loved her. If she had answered the door, I would have told her I wanted to stay and apologize until my mouth stopped moving. One last glimpse at those green eyes would have been enough for me to stay put. But, there was no answer. Even when I ended up in Chicago, hungry and dying for a piss, I would have turned around in an instant if she'd answered the phone. So, I hitchhiked to Denver where I finally called Him from a dingy phone booth and told Him I was never coming back. His reply was, "Your girl was here a few hours ago and I suspect she's never coming back too". The anger rippling down my fingers was enough to nearly snap the black phone cord. I called Sierra's house to no avail.

No answer.

I wasn't ready to hear the fake confidence in my voice tinged with the reality of loneliness if she picked up. And so, I continued my trek until the truck driver I stumbled upon in a bar dropped me off by the Boardwalk with a pack of Camels and a can of lukewarm cider. His light voice, one completely the opposite of a stereotypical truck driver, wished me luck and told me to forget the girl who plagued my mind. I'd flashed him a suspicious look before he released a belly laugh and called out his parting advice, "You think you're the only heartbroken guy I've picked up trying to find the other side of life? Let me tell you, kid, it exists. Call her one more time. If she picks up, it's meant to be. If she doesn't, then go where the sun takes you". It was profoundly deep for a man who uttered barely any word other than a stray belch on the way here. On the way here, in the infestation that was his stinking truck, I had preferred sleeping under the bridges. But watching him drive off made me somewhat glad I had to endure the smell of the man's pits for a day.

I didn't call Sierra. No, I called Harrington who was confused to say the least. As I explained why I fled from Hawkins, I could hear his frantic pacing around his kitchen. He was alone in the house again and pissed because we had planned a fishing trip for that weekend. But, Harrington being Harrington, he understood the reasoning behind my abrupt departure.

"Look, you need to do what's best for you, man" There was a forced perkiness in his sigh and I could basically envision him pinching his temples and mouthing various expletives. "But, dude, you just upped and left Sierra"

"I didn't get up and leave her, Harrington. I said I was coming here" I spat out defensively, finding myself gripping the phone until my knuckles turned white. I mirrored what the Harrington in my imagination was doing and mimicked hitting my head against the payphone until I could regain some sense of composure. "I stopped at her house, called her and got nothing back"

"That's because she's not with her grandparents right now" Harrington declared. I was confused. Immediately, an image of Sierra with another man entered my mind, and the hot, seething envy as green as her glowing eyes coursed through me. Was she finding comfort in someone else already? "She's found her mom, Billy"

"Her mom?" I asked, the pleasant relief clear in my voice.

"Yeah, she'd called her mom about a week ago and she finally got the message and came down when she found Sierra on her way back home" Regret panged at me, as strong as a heart attack. After every monstrosity we had seen lurk in Hawkins and its underworld, I had just let her - made her - walk home alone. I had promised to protect her. First, I let her walk straight in the line of His fury and straight afterwards made her walk home alone. I was a piece of shit and I goddamn knew it. But also, why hadn't Sierra told me she'd called her Mom? "So, she's been where her mom is staying in Hawkins"

"How is she?"

There was something timid in my words that I seriously disliked. I felt odd intruding on her life. Even though I'd been in her life for over 240 days, seeing her when she was at her highest peak and lowest hole, it was like I was a prying neighbor. I'd scratched the back of my neck nervously. I wanted her to be okay. She deserved that much. But there was an undeniable part of me that craved to hear Harrington say, "Honestly, man, she misses you. She really goddamn misses you". Forever, I just wanted to know I had a place with her, a seat at her table of abundant love. But, I had taken the seat and thrown it. I had burned the place, the home, everything, and there was no way I could reverse how I had been the one to start the fire. The flames, I, had done the damage.

I turned to the chaos again. I made the choice to start running.

And now, I had to stick with it. Chaos was my only companion.

"She's getting by. Obviously everything going on isn't great, but she's enjoying spending time with her Mom" And then, came the words on the edge of the cliff in my mind. "She misses you"

I held in a desperate breath - desperate to be set free. But I kept it imprisoned. If it was free, it would allow the mask to slip. To my demise, my silence was loud enough to speak for itself.

"You miss her too, Hargrove"

I hung up the phone, lit a cigarette and immersed myself in the thick, ashen smoke circling the small space. It was trapped in here with me. Just for a few moments so I could tell my thoughts to stop spiraling. I squeezed my eyes shut and pursed my lips, keeping the words inside me where I wanted them to stay.

Of course I miss her. I love her. I want her back. I'll do anything.

It was a desperate yell to whoever would listen. Instead of screaming though, I put my hand firmly over my mouth and squashed the voice down. It was for the better.

I slammed the door behind me and headed over to Harry and Michael who had my bright blue surfboard at the ready. And so, we went surfing until the sun began to set, the music started blaring and the hordes of people dying to keep their adrenaline rush descended on the beach for the best party of summer. I was determined to say a huge ' fuck you' to the last week or so. My mood was sour, incredibly sour. I hadn't spoken much to Harry and Michael who had sat and watched me surf off as far out as I could. A few beers and a smoke would get me going though. I'd already had a number of bikini clad girls eye me up. I could still make the best of today.

At the beach party, I sat down on the sand, feeling my body sink into its golden bed, next to Harry, Michael, and whatever girls they'd managed to find. The two were Tweedledum and Tweedledee with dark brown curls flopping over their faces and identical earrings dangling from the same ear. They were always in different variations of the same outfit and had the same snort when they laughed. Honestly, I was secretly betting they were fucking each other and planning their joint outfits in their spare time. We'd all known each other since elementary school when we'd come out for a surf. Both of them had seen my Mom and until Hawkins, were the only people to see the mask come off. One of the reasons we all got along so well was because we all had a mask to wear. Harry was the son of two alcoholics. One absent and lost, the other roaming around on the streets. He'd basically brought himself up. However, Michael was the opposite, his background the only true difference between him and Harry. Michael's parents were hard-working, blue collar folks who always strived to provide for the family. But they didn't provide emotionally. Michael was left to navigate the beach like the rest of us, and thus, we became a pretty tight trio that surfed until sunset and made the night our own. We'd spent my last night in San Diego nearly a year ago right here. I hadn't slept from waking at 10am that morning until 10 am the next day when I was stuck in the back of the car. We were brothers and probably the only real connection I'd had before moving to Hawkins.

"So, you down here for the rest of your life, Hargrove?" Harry asked, a smirk penciled on his lips and a blonde girl in a small leopard print bikini on his lap.

"Yeah, probably" I murmured back and took a sip of my beer.

"Why?" Michael's voice, rumbling and low, piped up.

I turned around to face him, locking my heavy lidded eyes on his, and put my beer down. There was a bemused look spread on his face. A growl was shoved down my throat involuntarily. I wasn't about to explode on him for a simple, if not sudden and unnecessary, question. I didn't get all the way down here with some sweaty motherfucker in his Cheeto-infested truck, sleep under a bridge and piss in a phone booth when I wasn't allowed to go in a bar, for Michael to ask me why I was planning on staying down here.

"What?" I snapped.

"I said, why?" Michael repeated, his tone holding the same slight bewilderment as before.

"I don't have to explain that, man" I shrugged and took another, bigger, sip of the now lukewarm beer.

I was about to get up to grab my surfboard when he said something that really made me want to drive a fist through his goddamn crooked teeth.

"Yeah, actually, you do"

My head twisted around so fast I felt pain course down my neck muscle. It felt good. It felt hot. It felt like how I'd been feeling each day since leaving Hawkins.

"Fuck off, Michael"

I lit a cigarette, the flame tinging the rough skin on my fingers. Inhaling the bitter smoke, the exact same strain darted through to my head. Michael had the audacity to roll his fucking eyes. A white hot flash of anger blinded me. When everything became clear, I saw Michael beneath me, the same goddamn, satisfied smirk on his lips, and my ghostly white knuckles tugging his black, Def Leppard vest up.

"Struck a nerve, Hargrove?" Michael chuckled and pushed me off. I landed with a dull ache on my back. Amused, irritating laughter filled my ears. "You come all the way down here, smoke up and surf, all to what? To end up with us ingrates on the fucking beach again?"

I snorted and rolled my eyes, letting out my own wild cackle. Licking my lips, preparing for the peak of my adrenaline rush, I turned around to face the laughing fucking clown. I could hear the words I desperately wanted to roar pound in my ears before they'd even left my mouth.

"Don't bless yourself, Michael" I peered over at Harry who was watching this entire show play out. Had he been almost expecting it? Was he on Michael's side here? The blonde girl looked frightened and tapped Michael's shoulder. He murmured something in her ear and she immediately scrambled off. "What was that, Harry?"

Did the chaos follow me here?

No, I was the chaos.

I forced my eyes closed and took a deep, shallow breath. Breathe in the ocean, feel the salt swim up my nose. I was here for a reason. I was back home. But ever since I had arrived in San Diego, it was as if I was a stranger to it. As I said, chaos was my only companion. Harry and Michael had changed - I had changed.

Harry rolled his eyes and gestured for me to sit the fuck back down. I glared at him. No one was telling me what to do.

"Jesus, Hargrove, relax" Harry groaned and passed me a joint.

"Fuck this, man. I'm out of here" I picked up my beer, my grip around it nearly enough to shatter it into a thousand pieces.

"All I asked was why, Billy" Michael voiced as I began to wade my way through the sun-bleached sand. Fucking asshole asking me why I trekked my ass all the way back here. They should be happy to fucking see me! Not asking questions. I'd deal with him another day. Not now. Not when the reason why I was down here was so fresh in my goddamn head. "Because you should have stayed up there in Hawkins!"

What the fuck did he just say?

In the last week, I had endured sleeping without a roof over my head, trying to piece my life back together, all the while having that same goddamn question repeating itself over and over in my head. I did not need Michael to voice it out loud. A thundering rage possessed my tense body. Eyes flaming with the red hot fire smouldering in me, I stormed over to Harry and his smug fucking smirk. But before I could land a fist right there in between his already crooked teeth, he stepped back.

"You had a chance, man" he said. It was low, almost a whisper. But he still said it.

I staggered back a little, the booze, the weed, the chaos, really washing over me. The sand was beginning to swallow me whole. Just like his words. How had this escalated so quickly? A chance. One fucking shot and I'd blown it. I'd always envisioned my return to California as something grand, something fresh and positive. It had been anything but. I was running. I'd always been running or getting away from land. I never wanted the problem I was running from to hurt me.

"You were onto something big, Hargrove. Something better" Michael said. There was a shine in his eyes, a vulnerability. He wouldn't lower his gaze from mine. I'd never seen Michael be so serious. "You know, man, when you came down here with your girlfriend - "

"She's not my girlfriend" I sharply interrupted.

"Well, she fucking should be. You had things, Hargrove. I saw the way you looked at her, saw the way she looked at you. Christ, I'd never seen you so damn comfortable with someone. Girl aside, you were starting to get good grades, a college scholarship. Tell me one thing, Hargrove" He put up an accusatory, assertive digit. I grunted dismissively and went to walk away. Tell me something I don't know. I knew what I had. To my surprise, Michael snagged my arm and pushed me down on the ground with a thud. Before I could even launch his ass off me, he slammed my arm into the sand. Harry just watched on, smoke leisurely floating from his partially open mouth. "One goddamn thing, Hargrove!" Spit from his mouth flew in my face. God, I was ready to pummel this bastard straight into tomorrow. He had no idea what was coming for him. "Why the fuck are you letting your prick of a dad make you lose it all?"

My entire body softened, the tendrils of smoke in my mind slowing down. The menace flashing in my eyes dissipated. His question had been subjected to years of avoidance. I knew that. As with everything, there was a time to own up. But this question, this one left me stumped. I stared stupidly at Michael, paralyzed by the brutal reality of his words.

"I'm pissed off with you, man. You had so much. So goddamn much" Michael paused for a moment, assessing if I was on the attack or surrender phase of our fight. I wasn't sure yet. One false move and I'd happily deck him here and now. The horns of my anger were still rearing. Not at him, at me. I was a fuck up. I was here fighting with my friend, drinking like a goddamn idiot and smoking my life away. Jesus, it made me want to do it even more. "And you just let Neil fucking Hargrove get to you. Like all of our folks have gotten to us. I fucking admired you, man. Last time you was up here, you were speaking of goddamn marriage, a job, a fucking future. And you know what I thought? I thought, 'Finally, he's gotten that fucker of a father off his back. He's finally letting him know nothing will get to the better of him'. I'm a high school dropout, Harry's off into the army, and we both saw you graduating and shit, and seriously thought, 'Thank fucking God. Somebody goddamn made it off this beach" He moved off of me, turning away and kicking sand, watching as it flew inches away from him. He lit a cigarette, the flicker of fire revealing an exhausted face. He was tired of this life, tired of the past haunting him. Like me, he was tired of running. He blew a flume of smoke and peered down at his feet. "And now look at you, you're back on it"

We fell into one of those reflective silences. I fixated my stare on the millions of sand grains beneath me. There was a part of me that came here to find answers. So many people there's always a part of you at home. San Diego was my home, and that's the exact word I evaded for so long. San Diego was my home. This beach was my home. But what had made it a home exactly? Harry and Michael, the ocean, but other than that, San Diego was as much home to me as what the brick house in the middle of Hawkins was. I could make home wherever I wanted to. But there were two pieces holding together the foundation of my home missing. One was in Hawkins, back with her mom, creating her own sense of home. The other piece was somewhere here, and in order to feel myself again, I needed to find it.

I needed to find her.

Wordlessly, I stood up and started walking away towards the bright lights of the city. I wandered past them until I found the place I needed to get to. As I opened the door, I was welcomed into the humid, empty bar. It was relatively quiet, a few regulars sipping on a pint of beer, drowning their sorrows. Shit, I wasn't much different to them. The last time I was here, I'd ran. The reason I was in San Diego now was because I'd ran. And now, I was back so I could finally stop. A full circle. Weirdly, it was a place I didn't anticipate going back to for a while. The middle-aged guys in here with a thousand moans and groans written over their faces weren't exactly the crowd I'd want to be amongst. Especially halfway during my time in Hawkins when I realized I could actually be somebody other than these people when I reached 40. If I reached 40. Shit, being in Hawkins actually made me think I could get to that age. There was something sentimental about Harrington's speech of his cult of nuggets that made my rusty heart warm up. It made me believe I could do it too. Fuck Harrington and his mushy bullshit…

I approached the bar where Billy, in all his Southern glory, stood polishing glasses in a wife-beater vest and a cowboy hat, a limp cigarette hanging from his mouth.

"Hey, kid! Long time no see, how you been?" he asked, putting the glass down to slap me boisterously on the back. "Back for another trip?"

"Yeah, you could say that" I chuckled and sat down on the red, vinyl stool.

"I'll get you a beer" He went to turn around and placed one in front of me. I stared hard at it. I was buzzed enough already. In fact, I wasn't even buzzed. No, I was fucking depressed. I wasn't about to join the rest of these guys in their pity. "Something the matter, kid?"

"Do you remember that woman who came in to play the guitar the night I came in with my girl?" The gentle pulling of guitar strings sounded in my head. It was almost like a lullaby. God, I needed to find her. I had so much to ask, so much to discover.

"Blonde hair?"

"Yeah"

"Older woman?"

"Yeah"

"Guitar?"

"Yeah, Billy"

He paused, gauging whether I was pissed off at the incessant questions or genuinely searching for something, someone.

"Lavender Phoenix?"

My face fell and for a second, I seriously contemplated drinking the beer. It was as if someone had dragged me to the top of a cliff to see this phenomenal view and before I could see it, shoved me straight off. I had been so sure it was Her. So goddamn sure. It wasn't Her name. Any notion of finding home, finding myself, vanished. I nodded solemnly and cleared my throat, beginning to get up.

"Thanks, Bill" I quietly said and turned around to leave.

"Strange you mention her…" As quickly as I had decided all hope was lost, I twisted around. Billy had continued polishing the glasses, two deep, lines between his eyebrows as he focused hard. He wasn't focusing on the glass though. "That night was the first time I'd had her perform here. Heard about her through some friend of mine. She's good. Mighty fine singer. At the end of her little guitar set, she came up and asked who the young kid in the red shirt with the girl was. I told her your name, how you'd been gone a darn long time and she kinda did this little inhale thing. You know, the one chicks do when they're about to start crying?" I nodded, although I know I'd done the same thing when I saw Sierra leave. It was the dawning of knowing something life-changing had taken place. "Well, she pulled herself together and asked if she could perform every week. I liked her enough so said we'd give it a shot. She's a real hippie type, kid. Started seeing her surf and sunbathe on the beach every day since she started. Figured she brought people in, so I hired her to work some nights on the bar here. Fact, she meant to be here in 10 minutes"

My heart suddenly leapt so goddamn high it became stuck in my throat. Maybe she'd changed her name? But why? It made no sense.

"Do you know her, kid?"

I laced my hands together and sighed, resting my head on them for a second. Did I know Her? I knew images of her. Fleeting images of her watching me ride that 7 feet wave. The look of joy and pride glimmering in her eyes. The shrill, light laughter trickling from Her lips. The purple blotches from His fist. But did I know the real Her? The one who left? I peered over my shoulder to the ding of a bell as the doors flew open.

I had to answer Michael's question.

Why did I come back here?

But I also had my own to answer.

Did I want to find out the reason why?

A/N: Hi! Sorry I've left this for so long again. I've been doing ridiculous hours at work and been quite ill too. However, I'm really happy to have written this chapter. Thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot :)