User:CraftTech/Sandbox

June 8, 1975

You don’t feel like you inhabit your body.

You feel like your mind and your body are on separate planes of existence as you walk up to the front door of the house and knock on it.

Your mind is somewhere dark and your body is back on the normal planet.

Knocking on the door makes the small birdy screams start.

You hear footsteps run up to the door and its wrenched open.

El looks at you with a frown.

“Marty? Marty what is it –“

“I’m going away,” you said, your voice monotone.

You don’t know where your mind is but it isn’t here.

“Wh – what?” El asks, tears coming to her eyes and spilling over, smudging her makeup.

“My dad is sending me away. For the summer. To camp,” you still have the monotone voice.

El moves aside and lets you come into the cabin, closing the door behind you.

“Camp?” she asks softly. You sit down, staring in front of you, not saying anything.

“Marty? What’s camp.”

“It’s a place out in some sort of woods or park or something and I’ll have to live in a cabin like this but with a bunch of boys I don’t know and they’ll do ‘character building’ exercises which basically means that they’re going to be disciplining me the whole time,” you say quickly, just staring out in front of you still.

“Why are you going?”

“My dad is sending me. He thinks I need ‘discipline’ but doesn’t want to spend money on a special school for it. Which, really, means he’s sick of having me around, and he doesn’t want to be bothered with me for a summer, and would like to not be bothered with me ever again.”

Everything inside of you is clenched too too tightly.

“Marty…”

“My dad doesn’t want me around. My dad doesn’t want to deal with me,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry, Marty.”

“My dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Marty.”

“Yeah, he kinda does.”

“Okay, maybe… yeah.”

The birds are screaming still. And one of them is moulting, so the fluff all over the cabin is getting ridiculous.

You don’t really care.

Except for the coughing, but whatever.

“I hate him.”

“You should.”

“But I don’t want my parents to get divorced.”

“Divorced?”

“It’s when married people break up.”

“Married?”

You’re too tired and too… disconnected from yourself for her questions today.

But you don’t want to hurt her.

You’re connected enough to yourself for that.

“When two people promise to be together forever, like boyfriend and girlfriend together, forever, and go through life together and spend the rest of their lives helping each other and being together. You’ve seen that on TV or in books, right?”

“Yeah, I just kept forgetting to look it up. And I like it when you explain things to me.”

You sit there in silence for a long time.

“Why don’t you want them to get divorced?”

“Because it’ll be my fault.”

“Marty…”

“I’ll be the kid who made them divorce. That’s who I’ll be, forever. That kid. The one who fucked everything up because he couldn’t keep his FUCKING SELF TOGETHER,” you scream, getting up and kicking the coffee table.

Jane watches you with wide eyes as you keep kicking it.

“I’m – such – a –piece – of – worthless –“ you shout, continuing to kick it as tears fall out of your eyes, hot and wet against your cheek. The birds scream, startled in their cage.

“Marty –“

“I’m awful I’m terrible I’m the reason they’re going to divorce –“

“Marty –“

“Why is this happening? Why is this happening to me –“

“Marty!”

You stop kicking and crying and turn to look at El. She’s watching you from the couch.

“You’re not the reason they’re going to divorce,” she murmurs.

“What?”

“They weren’t in love, Marty.”

You’re still disconnected from yourself that you barely really register her words.

“They – what?”

“They weren’t in love,” El repeats, “You should get married to someone you love and they weren’t.”

The words are true and they hurt.

They hurt so, so much.

You fall down to the floor and start crying, holding your face in your hands. Jane gets off the couch and holds you, wrapping her arms around you tightly.

“I’m sorry, Marty.”

You sniffle more.

“Why doesn’t my dad want me?”

“I don’t know.”

You hold your face in your hands and cry more and more.

“How long does camp go for?”

“Starts the 17 and goes until August 2.”

“So one and a half months.”

“Yeah.”

You look up at her and she looks at you, frowning.

“Can you get through it?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter.

“I’ll try to visit but it’s going to be hard because you’re farther away,” Jane mumbles.

“Yeah,” and your voice breaks.

“Should you run away and stay here?” Jane asks.

You laugh weakly.

“They’d find out.”

El holds on tighter to you and squeezes.

“Please don’t go,” she whispers.

“I have to…”

“If you go I won’t…”

“You’ll have Dustin and Lucas and Will and Max.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have no one.”

She makes a sobbing sound and hugs you tighter. You both sit there and cry, for a long time, even though you know you should go back home soon.

“Marty?”

You pull away and look at her.

She grabs your hands and holds them tightly.

“What… are you doing,” you frown.

You still are dissociated from yourself so it feels like everything is happening to someone else.

“I promise,” she says softly.

“You… promise what?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“I want to stick with you forever and help you forever and all that other stuff,” she repeats.

“Wh… what?”

“That married thing. I promise. We’re married now.”

This is so ridiculous you burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“El, we’re not married now.”

“Why not?”

She looks grumpy.

“Well, to begin with, I have to promise too. And then we have to have someone like, say we’re married. An official guy. And we have to sign a bunch of things for the government, which we can’t do because you are still hiding from them. And we also have to be adults, we’re only fourteen,” you manage to say while laughing, now so distracted from your pain that you feel like you’re two separate people in that moment.

She frowns even more, “That’s stupid.”

“Why is it stupid?”

“Why should we need all of that? Besides you promising too.”

“Because… a big part of it is the government knowing you’re married.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Why do we need to be adults?”

“Because it’s a big decision.”

“I’ve made big decisions.”

“I… true,” you admit.

“Why can’t I make this one?” El demands.

“Because… because grown-ups are stupid,” you say softly.

“Okay,” El pauses, “Then we’re married without them.”

“I never promised back,” you say, and now you’re so confused and shocked by what’s happening you’ve separated into three different people –

The Marty who is Crushingly Sad and Lost

The Marty who is Confused and Overwhelmed

The Marty who is Happy and so Ridiculously in Love with this weird girl –

“Well, why don’t you?” Jane asks.

“Because… of all those things I just said,” you admit, “It’s… not something kids do.”

“Well it’s something this kid does.”

You laugh again.

“Are you sure? Forever? Forever is a long time,” you say.

Lost

Overwhelmed

Happy

“Yes, I’m sure,” El says firmly.

Sad

Confused

In Love

But she has a point.

She has a very good point.

Are you really going to break up with her, ever?

“Okay,” you hold her hands, “I promise too.”

This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever –

Okay not the weirdest.

But it’s up there.

It’s very very very up there.

“We shouldn’t tell our friends though,” you say softly.

“Why?”

“Because… they’ll think it’s really weird and stupid. And I don’t want it to be ruined.”

“Okay,” El nods, “Makes sense.”

You smile weakly at her.

So weird.

You love this weird weird girl.

El smiles and nods at you, “And that’s how you’ll get through camp.”

You laugh, before crying again. And you just hold onto each other until you can’t cry anymore.

June 18, 1975

“Hey El,” you mutter quietly, looking up at the ceiling of your cabin.

The other boys are out playing baseball or something but you decided to stay inside where you could be alone for at least a few seconds.

“I know you aren’t listening to me… probably… because you’d say hello back. And I’m too far away for you to visit, really,” you continue, “At least for any length of time.”

It’s hot in this stupid cabin and you miss playing Dungeons and Dragons with your friends, or helping El read in the house, or making homemade popsicles with Nancy.

“But only sixty-three days left to go. I know I should change the countdown to when I get out of here, but… we’ve been counting down to the first day of school for so long it feels wrong to change it, you know?”

You let out a long sigh.

“The worst part of this is that you can’t write, because you’re still hiding. I can get letters from everyone else but I can’t get one from you. It’s just stupid.”

You feel so lonely it’s like your chest is crushing in on itself.

Your stomach feels much much much too tight.

You start crying and you hold your face in your hands.

“I hate everything about this place and it’s only day one.”

You sniffle and sit up, staring in front of you.

“It's boring. All the things to do are sports. And like, other things I don’t care about. And the boys are mean. And the counselors are mean. And I just… miss you so much.”

You let in a shaking breath and try to hold it together.

But you can’t.

“I miss you. And I miss Anne. And I miss Dustin, and Lucas, and Will. And I miss Max. And I miss Steve and Joseph and Hopper and Mrs. Byers. And I even miss my mom a little. And I miss Zayde and Bubbe. And I miss Holly. And I miss just being at home with my things. And I miss your crazy stupid birds. And I miss everything. I don’t want to be here.”

You can’t stop crying.

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t know why my dad sent me here. I don’t want to be here.”

You press your face into your knees.

“I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be here.”

You keep crying and hold your face tightly against your knees, so that you’re as compact into this ball shape as you can be.

You just want to make yourself small.

You don’t really want to exist anymore.

You haven’t for a while.

You can pretend you do when you’re with Jane, or your friends, and happy.

But those always ebb away back to not wanting to exist again.

“I miss you, El. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.”

You can’t stop saying it, you just rock back and forth and mumble it to your knees.

“I didn’t want to say that ever again, El. We had a whole year of this. Worse, because I didn’t know if you were alive, but a whole year. And now I’m separated from you again. I hate this. I hate this. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.”

You miss her.

June 22, 1975

“Care to explain what this is, Camper Wheeler?”

You look up and glare at the Counselor.

You don’t bother to learn any of their names.

“It’s my razor blade.”

You’ve gone back to cutting only your thighs.

Your wrists are too exposed in this heat.

“You don’t have a beard.”

“No, but I have it with me in case a miracle happens over the summer.”

Some other campers snicker at that, but most everyone stays silent.

“Sharp objects are not allowed in the camp.”

“So what are you going to do about it?” you ask dully.

You can always find another way.

You’re innovative like that.

“Well we will obviously have to confiscate this blade,” the counselor says, “And then I believe you should be ordered to run laps around the camp.”

“How many?”

“Oh, until you get tired.”

You frown and go, “No.”

Everyone is completely silent.

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you disobeying a direct order?”

“Yeah, I am,” you say quietly.

You don’t give a fuck anymore.

They can do what they want to you.

You just don’t care.

“Fifty push ups!”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“That’s it, you’re being sent to the head counselor’s office.”

You shrug, and walk there willingly, kicking up rocks as you go.

You just.

You don’t care.

And you get yelled at, and screamed at, and it goes on for hours and hours, and they’re going to call your parents, and you’re on thin ice and having privileges revoked, and blah-blah-blah.

You don’t care.

June 30, 1975

“Hey Wheeler, want to go hiking with us?”

The woods remind you of Will getting lost and El being found and you searching for El every now and then during last year.

You sigh.

“No, thanks though.”

The other boys leave without you, and you can hear their muttering as they go –

“What a weirdo.”

“He never does anything.”

“Did you hear him talk back to Counselor Yates the other day?”

“Bet he was going to use that blade to hurt everyone in the camp.”

“Yeah! I bet he’s one step away from snapping.”

“No wonder he doesn’t have any friends.”

You listen to them leave and walk back to your bunk, going up into it and pressing your face into the mattress.

You hadn’t gotten any letters yet.

And you know that your friends are busy – Lucas is doing a space camp thing, Dustin’s volunteering at an animal shelter, Will is doing some sort of art-therapy thing, Max is back in California with her dad, and El cannot, of course, write.

But Anne hasn’t even written you and she is just doing college prep stuff at home.

So maybe you don’t have any friends.

Maybe the only friend you have is El and –

No.

No.

Stop thinking like that.

You have lots of friends.

They’re all just busy.

And they don’t know this is going as badly as it can.

They don’t know anything.

It’s not like you’ve written them either.

You quickly pull out your paper and pen and write as many letters as you can.

You need to hear from them just to get through this mess.

And maybe they can tell you how El is doing.

July 4, 1975

“Happy Independence Day!”

“Happy Fourth!”

“Let’s go set off some fireworks!”

“Yeah!”

Everyone’s laughing and talking. One of the other boys comes up to you as you watch everything from the cabin, standing outside of it and leaning against the wall.

You managed to steal some cigarettes and a lighter from one of the counselors, since you still haven’t found something good to hurt yourself with.

So you started to smoke them, and since the counselors were all in a meeting, you were taking the opportunity to do it now.

“What?” you ask gruffly as the boy walks up to you. He’s slightly younger than you, and looks nervous.

“Um… do you want to come play with us all?”

“No thanks,” you mutter.

You don’t want them to just make fun of you.

“Don’t you like the fourth?”

“Not really.”

“Why not?”

You drop the cigarette on the ground and smash it with your foot, covering it with gravel.

“America fucking sucks and the sooner you realize that the better.”

The boy’s eyes widen.

“Are you a communist?”

“No, I’m a person who America fucked over. See ya,” you say angrily, walking away and through the woods.

Yeah, it reminds you of shitty stuff, but at least it reminds you of home.

And you don’t have to listen to these idiots praising your shithole of a country.

A country that enslaved countless people and killed the people who originally lived in it.

A country that did scientific testing on young kids and then fucking killed anyone who tried to help them.

Fucking shithole.

You walk to a clearing near the camp and sit down on a rock, smoking another cigarette and just staring out into the sky.

July 7, 1975

These letters are a lifeline.

Dear Marty,

Enclosed is a letter from El. Don’t worry, I didn’t read it. I’m glad you liked my idea of me sending you her letters. I know you need them. I’ve been doing okay. As you know things have been better for me since Barb’s funeral. Joseph and I are doing well. He’s nervous about college applications next year. I’ve talked to Scott some, too. He’s… nervous because he’s training to be a police officer. Things are still kind of awkward but I’m dealing with it. Mom and Dad are still fighting, but now it’s not about you, so I hope that helps.

Love, Anne

It does help, if only a little bit. Mostly it just hurts that you being gone doesn’t make things better.

Dear Marty,

I love you. I visit you sometimes but I can’t say much. I’m glad you heard me that one time though. I love you. I’m bad at writing. I hope you can read this. I love you. I’ve been practicing more and more though. I’m scared of school. I hope I do well. Hopper thinks I can do this and I believe him. I love you. Eddie and Chester are doing well. They’ve finally stopped moulting and the house is clean again, and they are flying all around. I love you. Please don’t hurt yourself too bad.

Love, El

Each I love you is like a stab to the heart, but it reminds you that you have her, still, and she’s alive and this isn’t like last year at all.

If only you could remember that for long enough to not start to flash back –

And panic –

And feel like you were in the past again…

Dear Marty,

Space camp is the best. I wish your dad had sent you to this with me! I miss Max and everyone but man I’ve made a lot of friends. They like D&D and Star Wars too. And we can do things like pretend to be astronauts and learn about going into space! You know, I hope one day I can go into space. That would be neat. And better than, like, fighting Necromancers. I’ve been thinking about what I want us to do when we all get back and I think we should have a really long campaign. You in?

~ Lucas

You are painfully jealous of Lucas.

Dear Marty,

Hope you’re doing okay! I’m really bad at writing letters but I love art therapy. I’m supposed to just draw things that reflect my moods and to let out my pent up emotions about stuff. So I’ve included some drawings I’ve done just for you! They’re of some of the scary stuff we saw last year but I think you’ll still like them. Oh! Joseph says hi. He’s doing work so he’ll have some money saved up for college. Mom’s really hoping he’ll get to go to NYU! Man next year’s going to be hard. Well at least there won’t be any ghosts!

~ Will

You wish you could believe Will.

But the fall approaches ever faster and with it reminders of the past two years.

Of Will being lost.

Of Necromancers.

Of trying to keep Jane safe.

Of Will having now-memories.

Of giant tunnels.

Of Bob dying.

You’re reminded to say a single mourner’s Kaddish and you do so quickly.

Dear Marty,

Okay so important: animals are the best but what is the best GROUP of animals? I personally think its reptiles. No one else agrees with me and it’s a BUMMER. But! This means that whenever someone drops off a reptile to the animal shelter I GET TO TAKE CARE OF IT! No one else wants to! Ha! They’re all fighting over the dogs and the cats and I GET TO HAVE THE SNAKE ALL TO MYSELF! His name is Percival. That’s such a great snake name it’s fantastic. Scott is super nervous about training he talks to me about it all the time. He’s getting better at it though and he passes all of his practice tests! I can’t wait for him to work with Chief.

~ Dustin

You can practically hear Dustin’s excitement, even from all the way over here.

Dear Marty,

California fucking sucks. I thought I liked it better but I guess I don’t. I like having friends more. Sorry things suck for you as much as they suck for me. Summer won’t last forever though.

~ Max

That letter is so Max it’s practically comedic.

You write replies back to everyone and reach into your bag. You finally managed to grab a counselor’s razor the other day and you quickly go to work on your thighs, before bandaging them up.

You then go outside and smoke, watching as other campers are all talking by a campfire. You know you can’t be seen where you are, hidden amongst the trees.

You don’t even really care if something, like a bear, could catch you.

You’d probably just let it.

July 11, 1975

“Ha ha! Ha! I’ve got Wheeler’s le-tters!”

“Give them back!” you shout.

“Look, this one’s from his giiiiirlfriend,” another camper teases, holding up El's two letters to you and laughing. Everyone laughs with him.

“Bet she’s even weirder than he is!”

“Give them back!”

“Is your girlfriend some sort of goth chick?”

“Oh oh! I bet she’s a murderer or something!”

“She totally wears only black clothing right?”

“I bet you just made her up! You probably have one of your nerdy friends write as her so you can seem cool.”

“Give me back my letters!” you scream.

“What are you going to do?” an older camper asks, looking down at you. He’s big and burly and reminds you of how much High School is going to fucking suck.

“You don’t want to know, just fucking give them back,” you hiss.

The camper grins, and then starts to tear one of the letters. You scream again and dive at him, knocking him to the ground.

“Ow!”

You wrench the paper from his hands and stuff them into your pockets. You then tackle the other boys and grab the papers from them, too.

“What is going on here?”

You wheel around on your heels to see a Counselor walk up to you all.

“Wheeler just tackled me, sir,” the other camper says.

“Oh did he?” the Counselor asks, glaring at you.

“They stole my letters,” you mutter quietly.

“What letters?” the Counselor demands.

You pat your pocket, because you don’t want to lose them.

“He’s lying. Those are my letters,” the camper says.

“No! They’re for me,” you snap.

“Oh yeah? Prove it,” the camper laughs.

“They’re addressed to Marty –“

“I’m Marty.”

You feel your heart clench in your chest.

Fuck your parents for giving you a common name.

“They’re from my girlfriend El –“

Everyone bursts into laughter.

“Kid, do you really think I believe you right now?” the Counselor asks.

You reluctantly pull out the letters and show them to him. The counselor reads them over and frowns.

“Seems these are for Wheeler.”

You breathe with relief.

“But clearly they’re causing problems.”

Your heart clenches tightly.

“If everyone is going to be fighting and causing a ruckus over these letters then I have no choice but to destroy them –“

“NO!” you scream, and you tackle the counselor now too, ripping them from his hands and backing away.

Everyone looks at you like you’re a wild animal.

Is this what El feels like all the time?

Shit you’re going to give her all the hugs.

“Wheeler,” the counselor pants, “You’re in big trouble now.”

You follow him, but he doesn’t go to the head. He goes to your cabin and starts going through your belongings.

“Wait, what are you doing –“

“Aha!”

The counselor pulls out your cigarettes, lighter, and razor.

“Knew it.”

“What –“

“These are my friend’s fags, dumbass. And lucky for me you keep your weapon next to them.”

You watch him in horror.

“You’re getting it now. Come on.”

The counselor grabs you by the neck and drags you across the camp.

It hurts so fucking much.

You just want to die.

Die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die…

You’re sitting in front of the Head Counselor again for what feels like the millionth time.

“He’s been smoking cigarettes, Mr. Parker, sir, and he has this razor. I feel like he’s going to hurt another camper with it. And he tackled another camper to get his letters back,” the counselor explains.

“Hmm.”

You don’t look at Parker, you just look away.

“Your father mentioned you are a handful of trouble.”

You look up at that, glaring at him.

“We’ve been acting accordingly when we have ‘special case’ boys. Watching you, seeing how you interact with the other campers, how you lash out at the counselors. But you have shown no improvement.”

You shrug.

“You seem to have no respect for authority.”

“Well, authority doesn’t respect me.”

Parker glares at you more.

“Young man, I think you should spend some time in isolation to think about your attitude.”

You shrug.

Whatever.

You’re isolated anyway.

The counselor throws you into a room and you sit there, staring at the wall across from you.

In the beginning you revel in not having to talk to anyone or deal with anyone else.

But soon you really want a smoke.

And soon after that you really want to cut yourself.

And soon after that you’re trapped in your own thoughts again.

Trapped trapped trapped trapped –

You are awful.

No one wants you around.

You’ll never be able to relate to other people.

Because of the Other Side.

And everything that happened.

You’re always going to be weird and angry and unapproachable.

And no one will ever want to become your friend.

And eventually your friends will all leave you because they’ll be able to move on.

But you won’t be.

You’ll never be.

Maybe El won’t move on but what kind of person are you to drag her into your shit of a life?

It isn’t fair to her.

She deserves to be happy.

You can never be happy.

You’re going to feel this way forever.

You’re useless.

And terrible.

And awful.

And you should die.

Cutting yourself isn’t enough of a punishment.

You should just be dead.

Dead dead dead.

Couldn’t save Will – El did that.

Couldn’t save El – Hopper did that.

Couldn’t save anyone.

Nope.

Awful.

Awful.

Awful.

Awful…

July 28, 1975

You’ve never fasted on Tisha B’Av before.

It was a thing grownups do, and you consider yourself to be a kid, still, even after you became a Bar Mitzvah.

But you figure, camp food sucks ass anyway, and you don’t have many other ways to hurt yourself anymore now that they took away the cigarettes and your razor.

So you sit in your cabin and you don’t eat.

No one talks to you. No one approaches you.

Everyone thinks you’re dangerous because you punched out another camper again and pretty much everyone is avoiding you so you don’t “snap” and kill everyone.

Not that you actually would.

And you hate yourself so much for reaching this point that it’s time to fast.

It’s time to think about how your people are doomed to suffering.

Doomed to losing the temple, twice.

Doomed to exile.

Doomed to persecution.

Doomed to death.

Doomed.

And so are you.

You know that this is wrong, logically. You know you’ll be okay when you get out of this camp, and even though terrible things happen, you’ve always been able to get through them – with your friends, with your sister, and of course with Jane.

But it’s hard to make that stupid spiral shut up.

And honestly, the longer you’re on your own, the harder and harder it is.

So you sit.

And you fast.

And you stare out the window.

And you wish you could go back in time.

August 18, 1975

You almost don’t know who the boy who came back from camp is.

He looks like Marty. In some ways he acts like Marty. And you know he is Marty.

But he isn’t Marty.

He’s a shell of Marty, a broken thing, a lost thing.

He isn’t Marty.

“I don’t know what to do,” you mutter quietly to Dustin as the two of you play with Eddie and Chester. Dustin is scratching Chester on the back of his head, and Eddie is standing on top of yours and singing.

“Neither do I. Fuck his fucking shithead of a father,” Dustin grumbles in annoyance. You nod in agreement.

“I can kill him.”

“El what have we talked about?”

You sigh, “Murder isn’t okay.”

“There we go.”

You pull Eddie off of your head and look at him.

“Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“Being here this summer.”

“Yeah. I’m glad I stayed in Grand Rapids,” Dusting frowns.

“Marty was supposed to…”

“Well still. I’m glad I did. And Lucas and Will and Max are back now, too, and they aren’t traumatized.”

“Yeah,” you mutter quietly. Dustin puts Chester on his shoulder and wraps his arms around you in a hug.

“It’ll be okay.”

“You can’t know that.”

“No, but it’s all I can say.”

You nod and wipe tears out of your eyes.

“Thanks Dustin,” you mumble.

“Yeah, of course,” Dustin pauses, frowning, “Are you okay?”

“What?”

“With Marty coming back as the evil version of himself literally no one’s been checking up on you.”

“Marty has.”

“Okay, he doesn’t fucking count.”

“It’s one of the few times he seems like himself,” you mutter quietly. Dustin sighs again, not meeting your eyes.

“Fine. Has anyone else checked up on you?”

“Not really,” you mumble.

“So, how are you?”

“Scared.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“You are?”

Dustin shrugs, “High School is different. We’re not kids anymore.”

You frown, “But I am a kid.”

“Okay, this is going to be one of those really stupid societal things you question all the time and I have to explain in painstaking detail. Are you ready?”

You laugh, “Yes.”

“Awesome, okay. So yeah we aren’t adults until we’re eighteen.”

“Right.”

“But by the time we’re in high school – so like, fourteen and stuff – people expect us to act more like adults.”

“Why?”

“Because honestly eighteen is a date they just picked arbitrarily cause it’s when school ends. But high school is more serious than other schools. And like, we’re supposed to have different interests, like not playing with toys.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Oh I agree, but people go along with it anyway. And we have to start making adult decisions.”

“What are those?”

“Like, what we want to do with our lives, and where we want to go to college, and that kind of thing. Even if we want to go to college.”

“So we start… now?”

“No, people usually give the first two years for us to adjust. We also grow up more.”

“Like, taller?”

Dustin laughs, “Yeah, sure. Taller. And other stuff. We look more like adults.”

You nod and frown.

“But we’re still kids?”

“Yeah. They give us this buffer time to figure out how to be adults before they start like, giving us adult consequences for what we do.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Except sometimes there still are adult consequences, and like, people get mad at you if you don’t act like an adult. It’s weird and stupid and I wish I could explain it better but honestly I just don’t think there is a good explanation.”

You let out a heavy sigh.

“Society is stupid.”

“Agreed.”

You press your fists together briefly.

“But don’t worry,” Dustin pauses, “You’re smart and strong. You’ll be fine in High School.”

“Will I?” you mutter.

“Yeah! And when you don’t know how to be a human being,” Dustin grins, making you stick your tongue out at him, “We all can help you figure it out.”

You sigh again, “Thanks.”

You just wish you didn’t have to worry about Marty on top of it.

August 19, 1975

Waking up this early sucks.

You are so grumpy you feel like you’re going to wreak havoc on the cabin if you’re not careful.

“El, please, just, eat some food,” Hopper groans. You grunt at him.

“El, I need you to wake up, it’s your first day –“

“No.”

“El, you’re fourteen, I’m not letting you get addicted to coffee.”

“I want to go back to bed.”

“Please try to wake up.”

You’re also super nervous and your stomach is churning, so you don’t really want to eat anyway.

“Well hopefully the Wheelers will be here soon.”

You stab at your Eggos and eat them slowly.

You wish you had Cinnamon Rolls, though.

“Kid, look, you’re going to be fine,” but Hopper is frowning.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“What can I say to convince you you’ll be okay?”

You frown, thinking.

“I don’t know.”

“Well here is your daily reminder that you’re not a monster.”

You sigh.

“Thanks…”

Hopper ruffles your hair, which is weirder now that it’s so long, but you smile at him. You then go and feed and say hello to Chester and Eddie until you hear a car pull up.

“Well that’s them. You got all your books in your bag?”

You nod.

“And pencils and pens?”

You nod again.

“And notebooks and folders and a planner –“

“Yes, Hop!”

“Alright alright,” Hopper smiles weakly as a knock goes on the door. You run to open it and see Nancy and Marty. Marty smiles at you, and you’re glad to see him smiling.

“Ready?” Anne asks as Marty rushes in to hug you.

He always hugs you like he hasn’t seen you in ages, now.

Even though you saw him yesterday.

But you hug him back just as tightly.

“Yeah, she’s ready,” Hopper grunts.

You grab your backpack hurriedly, and as you do so Hopper follows you to your room.

“Good luck kiddo. Be sure to let me know if you need anything by going to the office.”

“Okay!”

“And don’t be afraid to ask for help finding anywhere or –“

“Okay!”

“And try to be nice to the other kids –“

“Okay!”

“Don’t use your powers –“

“Hopper!”

Hopper smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, El. Hug before you go?”

You hug him and look up at him, murmuring, “I love you.”

He smiles back at you, “I love you too. Have a good first day at school.”

You nod, wave goodbye, and run out to the car where Anne and Marty are already sitting and waiting for you.

“So, do you both have your schedules?” Anne asks as she starts it up and begins driving away, Hopper watching you go from the porch.

You nod silently.

“Yeah, we’re in Biology and World History and Freshman Lit and Comp together,” Marty says hurriedly, “But she’s in Honors Geometry.”

“How did you even pull that off, Jane?” Anne asks, smiling though she’s looking at the overgrown dirt road of the woods.

“I took a big test this summer and I did very well.”

“Can’t believe you get to skip algebra.”

“But you’re in Honors Algebra? Isn’t that good?” you ask Marty softly.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve been having trouble with school so like, I’m glad I’m in an honors class at all, but geez.”

“What else are you guys taking?” Anne asks.

“I’m in Spanish I and then Gym which will be awful and study hall and lunch. I don’t know what else Jane’s in.”

“I’m taking Spanish I too but I’m nervous,” you admit, “I barely know English.”

“Well we’re all going to help you,” Anne reassures.

“Yeah,” Marty agrees.

“Thanks,” you mumble, “And… gym too. I think I have Spanish with Dustin and gym with Max and study hall with Will and lunch is all together.”

“And Lucas is in her Honors Geometry class, and so’s Dustin, so that’ll be a party I’m not a part of,” Marty grumbles.

“Yeah but you have Max with you in Honors Algebra.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well you all are going to be fine. Freshman year is scary but you have your friends and me and Joseph are still around,” Anne reassures, “And you have friends in all your classes!”

“Yeah,” you say, and you smile a little at the thought.

Anne pulls up to a big building, with lots of other kids walking into it. All the kids look so much older than you and Marty and your other friends it’s…

Terrifying.

You slowly get out of the car and Marty immediately takes your hand, helping you walk towards the big building. Anne follows you both from a slight distance, just enough that you feel safe but not too close that you feel weird.

“Ready?” Marty asks you softly. You turn to him and nod, the two of you walking through the hallways together.

Everyone is loud, and talking, and lots of people are taller than you.

You’d been here once before for registration. You got a locker, and your schedule, and your books. Hopper had been very nervous.

But now it is you who’s nervous.

You go to your locker and open it just like you practiced over and over and over again.

Next to you a tall girl with beautiful hair and bright red lips. You can’t help but look at her curiously.

“What are you looking at, fresh meat?” she snaps, before slamming her locker and walking away.

You glare after her, flick your head, and she trips on the floor. Smiling, you grab what you need and start walking, hurriedly, towards where you knew your history room was.

Being a monster has some perks.

Marty immediately sits next to you, looking over and smiling.

He seems like himself today.

Maybe the excitement of going to school with you is enough to help him?

At least for today.

Marty reaches over and grabs your hand under the desk, and you smile at him for that, your heart flipping a little in your chest.

You’re here.

You’re at school.

With Marty!

How bad can Marty really be getting when this is actually happening?

And then the teacher walks in.

“Okay class. Welcome to High School – I shall be your teacher for World History, Miss Ford. Since this is your first period class, I am in charge for taking attendance; then we will go through the syllabus. Adams, Tiffany –“

You sit back and listen, patiently, your heart in your throat a little because you know eventually your name is going to come up and everyone is going to ask who you are and oh no you stand out so much because of your clothes and makeup everyone keeps looking at you you should have worn something more normal but you wanted to feel comfortable oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no oh no –

“Hopper, Jane?”

“Here,” you say softly.

Everyone looks over at you in shock.

Now they think you’re Hopper’s daughter.

Well, you are.

Kind of.

The names keep going through and you smile over at Marty when he responds to “Wheeler, Matthew.”

“Alright. Now that we’ve gotten that under the way, let’s move on to – what is world history?”

You’re able to keep up, mostly. Taking notes is hard and the teacher says a lot of things and you have to write very very very quickly.

And you keep getting distracted because Marty is next to you and he’ll smile at you sometimes and your heart will do a flip.

The bell rings and its very very jarring but you get up, grab your things, and follow Marty into the hall. He grabs your hand immediately and squeezes it.

“How’d it go?” he asks softly.

“Okay I think,” you admit, “It was a lot.”

“Yeah, but you’ll get used to it,” he reassures. He’s acting way too cheerful.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.”

You frown at him, but he ignores it.

Which is annoying.

“Well I have gym now. But you’ll see Dustin in Spanish,” Marty says. He leans over to you and kisses you softly, making you let out a soft and happy sound before you can stop yourself.

“I’ll see you at lunch?” you murmur. He nods.

“Lunch. Bye,” and he’s off, and you wish you could just follow him all day, but you know you can’t.

You reach Spanish and you sit with Dustin, smiling over at him. He beams back at you.

“Ready to habla español?” he asks eagerly. You frown at him.

“Ready to – what?”

Dustin grimaces as the teacher goes up to the front of the room and says “Hola!”

“Hola,” you mumble back with the rest of the class.

And you basically spend the entire time as confused as humanly possible, even though it is only the first day.

“I hate this,” you grunt angrily.

“I am so sorry,” Dustin groans, “We’ll have lots of studying parties, okay? And Mike will be there too!”

You grunt in annoyance and walk away quickly.

It’s going to take all your energy not to make the teacher in that class just fall over and stop talking all those words you don’t understand at all.

Next you have gym. You go to the big room you’re supposed to go to and are surprised to find no one there.

“Hey! You! Get changed!” a large man with a pot belly shouts. You squeak and leave the room, now panicking.

Changed?

Right, you have those other clothes in your bag – but where do you get changed?

“El! There you are!”

You turn around in surprise to see Max running up to you and grabbing your arm.

“Come on, this way –“

You follow her down the stairs and into another room where there are a bunch of lockers and a bunch of other girls getting undressed and putting on clothing.

Wait, what?

“You do it in front of everyone?” you whisper, your eyes widening.

You thought you weren’t supposed to get in dressed in front of people – right?

Dustin and Lucas and Marty had acted so weird when you tried to do that when you first met –

“Yeah it’s the fucking worst,” Max agrees, “Just don’t look at anyone and they won’t look at you.”

You nod, flushing, and you pick a locker next to Max, getting dressed as quickly as you can.

“Hey!”

You turn around, half dressed, and look at the girl approaching you in fear. You might have seen her in another class, maybe, but you don’t remember exactly.

“Are you Jim Hopper’s daughter?”

“Adopted daughter,” you mumble.

“Where have you been before this year?” she asks, frowning.

“Homeschooled.”

Some other girls start snickering and you quickly put on the rest of your clothes as fast as you can.

They all disperse at that, and you turn to Max nervously.

“Don’t worry about it, they’re just curious,” Max rolls her eyes, “Had to deal with that a lot when I was new.”

“Does it ever stop?” you ask softly.

“Yeah eventually. And lucky for you you already have friends, so some of these weirdos who come up to you won’t seem like your only option for friendship, thus making you join them, leading to you being part of a secret apocalypse-fighting team,” Max snorts.

You laugh, “Is that how you met everyone last year?”

“Pretty much. I was new, Dustin and Lucas had crushes on me, they insisted I be their friend, I figured I had no better options, and now here we are, one trauma later.”

You giggle even more, even though you know people are staring at the two of you.

Max rolls her eyes, “C’mon, let’s head up there.”

There isn’t a lot of “syllabus discussion” in this class; the big burly man briefly goes over what’s expected, and then you spend the day running around the room.

It’s awful.

But, at least, right after you have lunch.

You and Max head to the cafeteria together and you find the others at a table, eating and talking. You quickly scurry over to it and sit next to Mike, who gives you a kiss on the cheek.

“How’d everything go?”

“I hate Spanish and gym.”

“Yeah I figured you would. But after lunch we have biology!”

“I’m so excited. I’m completely ready to talk about everything,” Dustin says, clapping his hands together and rubbing them excitedly.

“I can’t believe we’re all in the same class,” Lucas says, shaking his head.

“I think Hopper pulled some strings so that I would have an easier time,” you admit.

“I figured,” Lucas nods.

“Did you bring a lunch?” Will asks.

You nod and pull it out, eating your sandwich quietly. Marty wraps his arm around you. You look over at him and his face pulls into a smile where it hadn’t been before.

“Marty…” you mutter.

He continues to smile and eats his lunch too, not saying anything in response.

You’ll have to talk to him when the day is over.

You all head over to Biology together and you sit with Marty at a lab table, like the one you laid on two years ago. You swallow and look down at it, trying to not think about that day and everything you lost.

“Welcome to Biology! The study of life!”

Dustin looks over you and grins and you smile back at him. Max rolls her eyes, but is smirking, and Lucas next to her starts to take notes. Will next to Dustin also smiles at you, mostly in reassurance.

“So, what is life?”

This is the best class you take by far, thanks to the words you’ve already seen and the pictures in the book. It helps to have all your friends with you, too.

“Hey, Hopper!”

You turn around to see a girl run up to you as class ends and your friends all trickle out together.

“You shouldn’t steal a raccoon’s makeup!”

You frown as the girl walks off, laughing with some friends. Marty squeezes your hand tightly.

“A… what?”

“She’s talking about your eyes. Don’t pay attention,” Marty grunts angrily.

“But I thought I was bitchin’?”

“You are,” Marty reassures, “You’re beautiful as always.”

You smile at him and lean in to kiss him, before quickly pulling away in case a teacher saw. Marty smiles back at you.

“Alright lovebirds, class is going to start soon,” Lucas rolls his eyes.

“Lucas why don’t we ever kiss in the hallway.”

“Because we aren’t star-crossed lovers, Max.”

“Well shit.”

“I know. We gotta up our game to compensate.”

You can’t stop giggling.

Marty rolls his eyes, “Alright I have Spanish. Relax in study hall, okay? It’s the first day. You don’t need to study.”

You nod and you and Will head off to study hall together, sitting down in the large room next to each other.

Even though Marty told you not to study, you study Spanish anyway.

You don’t want to fail…

You don’t want to leave school…

You don’t want to leave Marty…

The thought makes you panic so much you study harder.

“Psst!”

You look up and see that Will is handing you a piece of paper. You open it up and see a list of names, with “GOOD BANDS” written in big letters at the top. You look up and grin at Will.

“We can listen after school if you want,” Will hisses. You nod rapidly.

You keep studying, and when you look over at Will again you see he’s doodling monsters and things in his notebook.

You write on a piece of paper YOU’RE REALLY GOOD and hand it to him, and he takes it and grins at you.

“Thanks!” he whispers, and you smile more.

You like study hall.

Or, at least, you like study hall when you’re not thinking about how hard school is.

You then file out and walk up to math, sitting down next to Lucas. He grins at you.

You’re glad all your friends are trying so hard to make you feel safe.

It’s working, too.

“Ready for math?” Dustin says, sitting on your other side and beaming.

“Dustin, how are you not dead?” Lucas asks.

“I am fueled by the power of knowledge.”

“It’s the first day.”

“So much knowledge!”

“Of syllabi!”

You giggle quietly in between them as the teacher comes in.

“So, Honors Geometry. I’ll get right to it –“

You start learning a lot of phrases and talk about ‘proofs,’ but even though its more wordy than math you’ve done before you like it, and the class flies by.

And then you move on to English, and you get to be with Marty again, and Will is with you too. You all sit together and you are glad that the day is almost over. It has been long, and you are quite tired.

Of course, English is draining, and by the end of it you’re even more tired, but at least you’re done for the day.

“So what should we do after school?” Marty asks, walking with you out of class.

“Will wants to show me some albums, maybe we could all go over to his house?” you offer.

“Joseph can drive us!” Will agrees.

“Should we find the others?” Marty asks as you reach your locker and start to pack things into it.

“Hey!”

You turn to see the girl who stands next to you.

“Weirdo,” she says, frowning, “Get these weirdos away from my locker.”

“No,” you say calmly, putting on your backpack.

“No?”

“You can’t make me,” you say simply.

She glares and opens her mouth again.

“Hey, Erica, leave my little brother and his friends alone,” Joseph says, walking up to you all with Anne following him.

Erica scowls, “Eww, I don’t talk to you.” She quickly grabs something from her locker and then walks away.

Anne waves with a fake looking smile, “Nice to see you too!”

Marty snorts.

“I hate her,” Anne shakes her head slowly, “Sorry your locker is next to hers.”

You frown and shrug.

“Right, Will, ready to go?” Joseph asks.

“Can everyone come over?”

“Don’t really see why not, Anne?”

“Nah it’s fine. I’m going to go home and work on some college applications though,” Nancy explains.

“Oh shit. Right. Can I come too? I’ll drop them off and then head over.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Do you all know where your friends are?” Nancy asks, “We should get going.”

“I’ll find them,” Marty offers, running through the school. Eventually he comes back with the others, and you all head over to the Byers house, going to Will’s room and listening to punk bands you haven’t heard before.

Marty still is acting normal, and you wonder when that will break. Because, eventually, it’ll have to.

August 31, 1975

“So, El. What are you hoping to get out of our meetings?”

You look at Dr. Owens and frown. Hopper’s outside the room, in a “waiting room,” so you feel safe here. You also just trust Dr. Owens after he helped you to get free.

It’s weird to trust a man from the base but you are hopeful, lately.

“Um. What are they for?”

Dr. Owens laughs, “Well, to talk about your powers, talk about how joining society is going, maybe talk about what you went through in the Lab.”

“Can you talk about that?”

“Well I have a degree in psychology and biology –“

“No, I mean… uh…”

You frown.

“I don’t know what I mean.”

“That’s okay, take your time.”

You swallow and try to find your words.

“I mean… will the people… in charge of you… be okay with talking about my past?”

“Well it doesn’t matter if they’re okay with it, does it?”

You smile a little.

“So – how is school going?”

You frown now.

“It’s been two weeks, you must have something to say.”

You swallow and frown even more.

“Take your time again.”

You think for a little while and finally manage to put your thoughts into words.

“It’s hard.”

“Oh?”

“The teachers talk very fast, and there is a lot of work to do at home. There are a lot of things to read. I have to read very fast and I’m not very good at it.”

“Why do you think you’re not very good at it?”

“The letters… all get jumbled up. And mixed up. And turned around? And so I have to read very very slowly.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Owens writes some stuff down, “Who have you told about this?”

“Hopper, and Marty,” you admit softly.

“What did they say?”

“Marty said I should tell someone else and that we’ll figure it out together.”

“Yes, sounds like him.”

“And Hopper said that if I keep practicing I can figure it out.”

“Hmm,” Dr. Owens leans forward in his chair, “El, have you heard of dyslexia?”

You shake your head.

“It’s a different way for a brain to work and read words. Basically, it changes how your brain interprets the words it reads on a page, differently than how most people do it.”

“Oh,” you mumble.

“It sounds like you might have it. I’ll schedule some tests – they’ll be very easy and not anything like you’ve had before, don’t worry – and we’ll see if you do.”

“Will it go away?”

“No, but you will be able to train it, and figure out how to read in your own way.”

You nod, frowning, and trying not to cry.

“El? Are you alright?”

You shake your head, holding your face in your hands and crying. You look up after a minute to see Dr. Owens handing you a tissue box. You take it and blow your nose into it, sniffling.

“El, do you want to tell me what is wrong?”

You shake your head.

“Alright, then just take your time.”

He says that a lot.

“Take my time for what?”

“To collect yourself, breathe, try to get through whatever is making you sad, even for the moment.”

You nod again.

“Um…”

“Yes, El?”

“I’m sad a lot.”

“That’s common.”

“Common for… what?”

“For people who go through traumatic experiences.”

“Traumat…ic?”

“It means something awful. Something that changes who you are and how you see the world.”

“Oh.”

“So you being raised at the base was traumatic for you.”

You nod.

“Will I ever stop feeling… this sad… a lot?”

“I hope that over time we can get to that point together.”

You nod again.

You hope he’s right.

September 16, 1975

“I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I hate my dad I had my dad I HATE MY DAD!”

You sit, in one of you nicest dresses, watching Marty pace back and forth in front of you.

“Marty…”

“I hate him! I hate him! I hate him! I hate him!”

“Marty!”

He whirls around and looks at you.

“What?”

You reach out for his hand and he takes yours.

“Deep breaths.”

He nods and takes in long, deep breaths, breathing out just as long. You watch him do that for a minute before speaking again.

“Okay. Your dad is awful.”

Marty nods.

“And you should hate him.”

Marty nods again.

“But we are at your house and he could hear you and get mad at you.”

Marty frowns.

“Since when do you remember social things more than I do?”

“I’ve now been going to High School for more than a month. I know some things.”

He smiles at you a little.

“You know lots of things.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

Not enough to get more than a C- on your Spanish test.

Or to be able to write a halfway decent English essay.

Letters were just hard. Words were just hard. And you hadn’t gotten the results of your Dyslexia test back yet but you have a funny feeling you know what it’s going to be and even though math and science are going okay everything else is really hard and you feel small and awkward in gym and like everyone’s always making fun of you and high school is so much all the time so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much so much –

“I just can’t believe he walked out of Rosh Hashanah like that! It was so rude! Everyone saw him do it! The shofar was blowing! Blowing, El!”

“I know, I was there.”

“We got school off for this! He took off work! And he just gets up and leaves!”

“It was extremely mean.”

“He doesn’t even try! He doesn’t even try! I get that he doesn’t love Mom but does he love his kids enough to not fucking do that to us?”

You shake your head, frowning. Marty sits down on the floor, crying and holding his head in his hands. You slide down and hold him, rubbing his shoulder calmly.

“It’ll be okay, Marty. It’ll be okay.”

He reaches into his nightstand but you fling the razor out of his hand before he can put it to anything.

“Hey –“

“Not on Rosh Hashanah.”

“But –“

“New year, right? Book of… something?”

“Life.”

“Right. If you do that you hurt me. Do you really want to have to get my forgiveness within ten days?”

He shakes his head quietly.

“That’s what I thought.”

Marty pokes you weakly, but then goes back to crying.

“Can I smoke at least?”

You sigh heavily.

“Fine. Out the window, please.”

He nods and opens up the window, smoking a cigarette for a long time. He then comes back and sits next to you.

“Sorry.”

You just shake your head and rest it against your knees.

“Marty, I’m sorry your dad is the world’s Biggest Asshole.”

Marty nods, “Yeah. He is.”

“But you need to…”

“To what? If you spout some crap that doctor you see said to you –“

“It’s not crap! It’s science!”

“Fine.”

“You need to learn that just because he’s an awful person, doesn’t mean you are.”

Marty frowns at you for a long time.

“And you shouldn’t hurt yourself because your dad is awful.”

He sighs.

“It's not just that. I just… feel like everything is out of my control. Camp this summer was awful. School is really hard and I’m struggling.”

“So am I.”

“Yeah but you’re new…”

“So? High School is new for you.”

Marty nods and cries some more. You hold him tightly, just trying to keep him put together.

You know ignoring your own problems is not going to end well. You know it, Dr. Owens knows it, even Hopper has said it.

But you can’t just stop helping Marty.

He needs you.

“Marty?” you murmur quietly after a while. He looks up at you.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He smiles weakly at you.

“I love you too.”

You lean in and kiss his forehead, “Let’s go eat some apples and honey. Right? That’s what you eat today, right?”

“Yeah,” Marty sniffles, “Yeah, we have some downstairs.”

“Great. Let’s go eat some. And you’re not allowed to talk to your dad.”

Mike laughs weakly, “Okay.” And you take his hand and go together downstairs.

It takes all of your self control to not kill his father on sight.

October 3, 1975

You can’t believe you failed your damn history exam.

You’re so fucking screwed.

You study all the time – by yourself, with El, with the whole party – but you just don’t have the mental presence.

You can’t fucking concentrate on anything because your parents won’t fucking stop fighting.

Today is no exception.

You can hear their dulcet tones through the walls of the house as you stare at the little “63%” on your history exam. You get up and creep towards the door, walking outside into the hallway to listen.

“I WILL NOT TAKE IT DOWN, THEODORE!”

“IT’S AN EYESORE!”

“DO YOU WANT TO BE DIFFICULT? IS THAT WHAT THIS HAS ALL BEEN?”

“MAYBE I THINK OUR KIDS HAVE FUCKED UP PRIORITIES!”

“YOU KNOW WHO’S PRIORITIES ARE FUCKED UP, TED? YOURS! YOURS ARE FUCKED UP! YOU CARE MORE ABOUT YOUR DAMN PEACE AND QUIET THAN OUR KIDS –“

“MAYBE I DO! MAYBE I GO TO WORK ALL DAY LONG SO THAT I CAN HAVE A LITTLE PEACE AND QUIET –“

“YOU AGREED! YOU AGREED WHEN WE GOT MARRIED –“

It hurts to listen to this.

You grab your history book and run downstairs, escaping out to the hut outside the house. You dive into the sukkah and start studying, highlighting the words on the page.

It’s comforting to be outside. The hut is spacious enough, and there’s a table and chairs for when you all eat dinner and breakfast out there, and you like to hear the birds chirping around the hut because it reminds you of the cabin.

Of course, you can’t focus on Ancient Greece basically at all, because you know they’re still screaming and yelling inside, and even though you can’t hear them anymore doesn’t mean it isn’t still weighing on your mind.

“Hey.”

You look up to see Anne.

“Hey,” you greet softly.

“Can I come in?”

“It’s your sukkah, too.”

“Fair enough,” Anne agrees, walking in and sitting across from you.

“Mind if I work on some applications?”

“Not at all.”

You both work in silence together, the sounds of highlighters and scratching pens filling the air and mixing with the tweeting birds and dimming of the sky. Anne lights some candles so you can keep working, now crickets filling your ears quietly.

“How goes history? You have Miss Ford, right?”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I didn’t have her but… Barb did. Barb hated her.”

“Yeah she’s a piece of work,” you sigh.

“Are you keeping up with it okay?”

“Not really.”

“Oh no…”

“I did fine on the first test but the second one I failed and I’m not sure how I’m going to pull myself up from it.”

“Have you told Mom and Dad?”

“Not yet.”

“Well you can pull yourself up from one failed exam. I know you can. You’re smart.”

“Thanks… how go applications?”

“Oh geez why do we need to talk about them.”

“I had to admit I failed a test.”

“Fair enough. They’re awful. I wish I was just accepted already.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not how it works.”

“In a better world…”

You laugh with her and it makes you feel a little better.

After some quiet working later, you look up to see your mom coming into the sukkah. She brings a bowl of spaghetti and some plates.

“Thought I could find you both out here.”

“Mom?” you ask in confusion.

“It’s dinner time. Help me set the table.”

You and Anne help immediately, not saying anything as you set everything out and Mom dishes out some food. Holly follows her out there, bringing silverwear for you all. The four of you sit around the table, and Mom mutters a blessing over the food and for eating in the sukkah.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Dad?” Anne asks quietly as Mom starts eating.

“Your father will not be joining us tonight,” Mom says brusquely, “Now, come on, eat up.”

Anne and you look at each other for a minute before digging into the spaghetti without further comment.

“So, Matthew, how is school going? Better than last year, I hope?”

“Uh… in some ways,” you answer honestly.

“We at least it’s not worse?”

“In a few ways,” you say softly.

Your mom frowns at you, “Like what?”

Dad isn’t here, so you swallow and try to pull yourself together.

“Um. History is really hard for me.”

Your mom puts down her fork and looks at you seriously.

“Matthew, you can tell me. I’d rather you did.”

You nod, grimacing.

“Um… I failed my last test.”

“Did you fail your first test?”

You shake your head rapidly.

“Alright. Well there’s still a lot of semester left, and I will help you whenever I can, okay?”

“Wait… you’re not going to yell at me?”

“You clearly look upset about it enough as it is,” Mom sighs, “So I don’t think yelling would do much good. Your father isn’t here… and we’ll just keep this between all of us, okay?”

You are so confused.

Mom… isn’t yelling?

You don’t… have to tell dad?

What… is happening?

“Are your other classes going okay at least?”

“Um, yeah. I’m doing well in biology and Spanish and English. Math is hard too but I’m not failing it.”

“And gym?”

“Gym is alright. Kind of rough sometimes…”

“Well, our family was never very gifted at athletics,” Mom smiles, “You know, when I was in school, I tried out for the cheerleading team –“

“You didn’t,” Anne gasps.

“I did. And they laughed at me so hard I wanted to die of embarrassment right then and there.”

“What happened after that?” you ask quietly. Holly is not really paying attention to the conversation, just eating quietly and wiggling her head back and forth in happiness.

“Oh, nothing really. Your Bubbe comforted me, reminded me that it’s not the end of the world, and then I went for the debate team instead. Kind of hard to argue whether or not not making the cheerleading team is the ‘end of the world’ when your parents are holocaust survivors.”

You can’t help it, you snort. Mom laughs with you.

“If we don’t have humor we don’t have anything. But one failed history test isn’t the end of the world, Matthew. You can do it.”

You nod, and smile at her weakly before eating more.

You wish that would have shut up the voice in your head telling you you’re utterly doomed.

October 9, 1975

“Ugh, I can’t stop coughing,” Dustin groans.

The entire party is sitting in the living room of the Byers house. You have a big biology test the next day and this was the natural choice for studying – Joseph and Anne were out, the other houses had distractions (whether it be the birds at El's cabin, your fighting parents at your house, Erica at Lucas’ place, parents fighting at Max’s house, or cats and Dustin’s mom constantly showering you all in baked goods at Dustin’s).

“Dude just have a mint or something.”

“I’m coughing up a lung and you are suggesting a mint?”

“Fine, two mints.”

“Oh my god –“

“One day Lucas and Dustin will stop bickering like an old married couple,” Max snorts, eating popcorn and flipping a page in her biology textbook.

“We aren’t married,” Dustin protests.

“Dude, we’re a little married,” Lucas jokes.

“Oh my god –“

El writes something down on a piece of paper. You look over at her and frown.

“What are you writing?”

El raises an eyebrow at you.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Curious. We’re not studying right now.”

El shows you her notebook. In big, scribbly letters it says NUMBER OF TIMES DUSTIN SAYS “OH MY GOD.” Underneath it is a tally, and you can see twelve marks.

You burst out laughing.

El can always cheer you up.

“Wait, what? What is it?” Dustin demands.

“Nope. It’s a secret,” you snort.

“Oh come on man – “

“It’s not for you!”

El holds her mouth behind her hand and laughs more while Dustin pouts.

“Oh my God!”

El writes down another tally. You roar with laughter, holding your stomach as you do so.

“That’s it –“

Dustin chases El around the room and she screams, running away quickly. Dustin chases her and she locks herself into the bathroom.

“Great, now none of us can pee. Good going Dustin,” Max sighs.

“Want me to kick his ass for you?” Lucas offers.

“Like you can kick Dustin’s ass –“

“I can too!”

“I’d honestly need to see some proof –“

“That’s it, this is happening.”

“Guys, can we just get back to studying biology?” you groan.

“Yeah,” Will agrees.

“Fine,” Dustin groans, “El, come out, I’m not going to take the notebook.”

El comes out, glaring at Dustin. Dustin makes a move to grab it anyway and El flicks her head, sending Dustin back onto the ground.

“Ow!”

“Friends don’t lie,” Jane says, sticking her tongue out at Dustin and skipping over to sit next to you. Dustin sighs.

“She’s right. You should apologize,” Lucas snorts.

“Fine, fine. I’m sorry,” Dustin says.

“Thank you. You’re still not getting the notebook.”

“Ugh.”

“Right, so mitochondria –“ you say, loudly.

You can’t afford to be failing this class too after all.

It’s science, it’s your best subject.

You’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be fine, you’ll be –

“It’s the powerhouse of the cell,” Dustin says firmly.

“Talk about the stupidest summary I’ve ever heard –“

“You know what, maybe we should all just study on our own!” you shout angrily. Everyone looks at you, worry etched on their faces.

“Marty?” Jane asks softly.

“I can’t focus with you all goofing around all the time!”

“Sorry man. We’ll be more quiet,” Dustin mutters.

“Yeah,” Lucas agrees.

“Thank you,” you grunt angrily, burying your face in the book and trying to focus.

Everyone studies silently for a little while, the only sounds being that of pens and pencils on paper and highlighters against textbooks. You manage to focus and study organelles for a long time, but you can smell El's sweet scent, and hear Dustin tapping his fingers against te table, or Will tapping his pencil against his lips, and it is all very distracting.

And then Dustin starts coughing again.

“Oh come on!” you shout.

“Dude, I can’t – cough – help it!” Dustin protests.

“Yeah, Marty,” El murmurs.

“I can’t hear myself think when you do that!”

“I would stop if I could!”

“Argh!” you shout again, gripping your hair tightly in your hands and trying to pull on it.

“Woah woah woah –“

“Marty take a deep breath –“

“It’s okay, it’s okay –“

“Maybe you should go home and just try to study alone –“

“Guys give him space – “

You take a deep breath and stop gripping your hair, looking over at El as she frowns at you with worry.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“It’s okay,” she whispers back, though you can see she’s trying to not cry.

“Um… maybe you’re right. Maybe I should head back.”

“Totally understandable,” Will says reassuringly. You nod at him and frown.

“Wait… I was going to help you study –“

“It’s okay man, we have half a year until my Bar Mitzvah, it’s late anyway. Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks, man,” you mutter quietly. Will nods at you and you get up, packing your books into your backpack.

“I can come with you…” El mumbles.

“Um… no, it’s fine. I know you wanted to ask Lucas some questions and I don’t want you to do badly because of me,” you mumble back.

“But –“

“Seriously, El, it’s okay. Cross my heart.”

El looks upset, so you lean down and kiss her softly before leaving, going out to your bike and peddling back to your house.

Inside, for once, it’s quiet. You creep upstairs to your room and sit down with your book, trying to study.

You manage to do it for a little while, studying about organelles and the nucleus and everything else in the cell, but your thoughts are too jumbled.

You remember El's face when you left the house.

Stupid.

Stupid selfish idiot.

Stupid selfish worthless idiot.

What is the point of you if you’re not around to help her get through it all?

Why does it matter that you’re struggling? You can figure it out. It’s her first time at school.

Stupid worthless piece of shit Wheeler.

Worthless, awful, horrible, waste of space and air and food Wheeler.

You start crying and you hold your head in your hands, just sobbing into your arms as hard as you can. You still can’t hear anything in the rest of the house – perhaps your family is actually out of it for once?

You pull out a cigarette from your nightstand and light it, taking a deep breath of it and blowing out the smoke for a long time. It brings you some relief from the crushing weight in the pit of your stomach, but you still can’t escape the thought spiral – if anything, the rush makes it tighten.

Piece of shit.

Awful.

Worthless.

Terrible.

Stupid.

Waste of Space.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself.

You hate yourself –

You finally grab the razor and just drag it across your wrist without thinking, letting it dig deep into your flesh. You remember how it stung so bad the first time you did this.

Now you can’t imagine going that shallowly.

Blood rushes out of your wrist and you wrap it up with a bandage from under the bed. You tie it tightly and take a long, deep breath.

That’s the third time today, though the other two were actually at school, in the corner of a bathroom stall where no one could see.

But you haven’t told El.

You don’t want her to know there’s a problem.

October 13, 1975

You have another history test and you can’t stop freaking out.

The words and the dates and everything swim in your head and you don’t care about Ancient Greece enough to actually pay attention to it and you can’t study and you can’t stop freaking out and you can’t calm down and you’re going to fail again you’re going to fail again you’re going to fail again you’re going to –

“Marty.”

You look up at El. She’s trying to help you study.

She has a black eye from where she got into a fight with someone who was making fun of you during lunch and he hit her and she made him fly back against a chair and when the teachers asked she just said that she pushed him and now she has detention and you really had to stop letting her do these things for you it isn’t safe it isn’t safe it isn’t safe it isn’t safe it isn’t safe it isn’t safe it isn’t –

“Marty!”

You shake your head rapidly and groan.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry –“

“Marty, deep breaths.”

You try but you can’t find your lungs.

“Marty!”

You aren’t even really looking anywhere you can’t really put your thoughts with what you see and everything is spinning everything is spinning everything is spinning –

“MARTY!”

She’s shaking you.

This finally pulls you out of your thoughts.

You look at her and pant, trying to not freak out again. Her eyes are staring deeply into yours and it snaps your brain back to the present, back to the brown in a sea of black eye make up and pale skin apart from the shiner.

You breathe in.

And Out.

In.

And out.

In.

And out again.

In.

And out.

And in.

And out.

“Okay. Marty. It’s going to be okay,” El whispers.

“No –“

“Yes.”

“How can you know?”

“I can’t.”

She looks sad to be saying it.

“Then why say it?”

“Because thinking it won’t be isn’t going to help anyone, most of all you.”

You nod, and you start crying again, holding your face in your hands tightly. El pries your hands away from your face and you look at her in shock. She leans over and kisses you on your nose, and then on your eyes, smudging the tears that are hanging there. You squeak in surprise at this, your heart pounding rapidly as you look at her.

“El – what –“

“Shh,” she whispers, and she kiss you softly, making you squeak again. You kiss her back before you can stop herself, and your worries float away up into the sky above…

“Better?” she asks quietly. You nod rapidly, your eyes wide.

“Much.”

She smiles weakly at you and sits back down, pulling out the history book.

“Come on, let’s study more.”

“El… El I’m so scared.”

“I know, but you can do it. You’ll be fine.”

“No I won’t –“

“Yes, you will!” El shouts, looking angry now. You swallow and nod.

“O… okay.”

“Sorry,” Wl mumbles, “But we have to study.”

You nod again and lean over the book, trying to focus on dates and information, but it’s still swimming.

“Hey.”

You look up at El again.

“What?” you mutter quietly.

“Do you want to quiz each other?”

“I don’t think I’m at that point yet.”

“Neither am I. We can struggle together.”

You smile weakly at her, “Thanks, El.”

“Alright, so,” she holds up her book and frowns, “What is the difference between Corinthian, Doric, and Ionian column?”

“Uh… I don’t know…”

“Alright well Doric are kind of tapered at the top, they don’t have much that’s interesting, then Ionian –“

And that’s how it goes for a while – you’ll ask each other questions, and sometimes you’ll know the answer, but mostly you’ll have no clue, and you’ll explain the answers to each other calmly and kindly as you make your way through the chapter.

“Thank you El,” you mumble quietly, “I just can’t stop when I –“

“I know, I do that too,” El whispers.

You lean over and kiss her on the forehead, and she smiles a little, like how she used to smile back before everything got fucked up.

Now she smiles wider but things are worse.

Well, okay. Will’s okay and you’re not running away from the Bad Men. But.

You feel worse.

You’re back in your basement, somehow, even though you’re in your bedroom – or at least – you thought you were in your bedroom – you’re in your bedroom, right? With El, studying history – but

You’re in the basement, and you’re talking to Present El – Past El – Present El – Past El –

Past El with the puffy sweatshirt and the buzzed hair and the cute younger face –

Present El with the shoulder length hair and older beautiful face and the underground band (“Bad Religion” that Joseph had showed her) t-shirt –

Past El looking shy and not talking –

Present El trying to get you to talk to her –

Past El crouching in the fort and smiling a little bit at you, that small smile you miss sometimes because now she smiles so wide across her whole face –

Present El crying and shaking you –

“Can you please stop that –“

You’re saying that in the past and the present –

Are you saying that in the present?

“Why – why should I stop –“

Present El says this –

Past El says nothing, just fiddles with a walkie –

What –

Wait –

Where are you –

You shout in pain –

No, you’re screaming in pain –

And then you’re back in your room.

You pant, heavily, looking at El in confusion.

“Marty? Marty!” she’s shouting, and she’s crying, smudging everything on her face.

You lean over and vomit on the floor.

“Marty!” El screams.

You look over at her, panting and sweating.

“I… don’t know what just happened,” you whimper.

El doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with a white face and wide eyes.

“I… I… I…”

“Marty you’re scaring me.”

You cry.

“I’m sorry –“

“What happened?”

“I don’t know!”

“Where did you go?”

“I went somewhere?”

“In your head – “

“I was back with you in the basement. When you were hiding. When we first met.”

“You… you were?”

“But also here –“

“I’m confused.”

“Me too.”

She reaches out and holds your head in her hands and moves it back and forth, looking at it with a frown.

“I don’t see anything wrong with you.”

“Maybe it’s just a… flashback? Maybe?” you mumble.

Your head is aching and your mind is spinning.

“Flashback?” El asks.

“When… last year… Will… kept going onto the Other Side… the doctor thought he was reliving… when he was down there… he wasn’t but… it’s a thing that… happens,” your words stumble out of your mouth like they’re falling down three flights of steps, your head doesn’t stop spinning, and you want to lie down for a year.

“Okay… are they like this though?” El mutters.

“I dunno but what else could it have been?” you demand quietly, looking at her and trying to not cry.

“I… don’t know. Okay. It’s a flashback. Are we done studying?”

“The test is tomorrow!”

“But you’re sick!”

“We have to clean this up and get back to studying.”

“Marty…”

“El, please, I can’t handle failing another test okay? I just can’t handle it. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t –“

El nods, pulling your hands into hers and holding onto them tightly. You squeeze back weakly for a long minute, before the two of you quickly clean up the the vomit and go back to studying.

At the very least, you manage to pass the test.

October 21, 1975

You’re up all night with a panic attack again.

The end of October is rapidly approaching.

You know what that means.

You know what’s happened, now, two years in a row.

Utter disaster.

Something terrible.

Losing your friends.

Someone dying.

People getting hurt.

You and the people you care about, traumatized.

Ghosts in the woods.

Crops spoiling.

Everything going to shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

You want to run out the door, grab the whole party, and escape to somewhere safe.

But you know you can’t.

You know that isn’t allowed.

So you lie awake and you stare up at the ceiling and you want to scream you want to scream you want to scream you want to scream you want to scream you want to –

El.

You get up, grab some clothes, pack things into your bag, and crawl out of the window. You run to your bike and peddle, as fast as you can, through the town.

It’s eerily quiet, given that it’s one in the morning. You ride as fast as you can, through the woods, over to the cabin.

You drop your bike off in front of the cabin and run over to the door, standing outside of it.

You wish you could just psychically call El over, but you know that you can’t knock without Hopper hearing.

You frown and walk around the back of the house, creeping over to the window where El's room is. You knock very, very quietly and wait.

The window is thrown open and El peers down at you with wide eyes.

“Marty?”

“I can’t sleep,” you hiss.

She immediately closes the window again and runs to the front, so you run around to the front of the cabin. She lets you in, looking at you in worry.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

Her hair is still fairly short, so it’s sticking up everywhere in a curly little ball.

“I don’t know, I can’t stop panicking.”

“Marty?”

You start pacing the room, running your hands through your hair and trying to not cry.

“I just can’t stop thinking about everything that always happens this time of year and how it’s this time of year again and what if something happens and what if someone else dies and what if you die and I can’t handle the thought of you dying and what if the Beholder comes back or Ratched comes back or someone –“

“Marty,” Jane whispers, “Shh.”

But you’re already freaking out, and you pace around the room while tearing at your hair.

“WHAT IS GOING ON?”

You turn in a panic to see Hopper, panting in the doorway to his room, looking at you both angrily.

“I’m – I’m sorry – I’m sorry –“

“What the hell are you doing Wheeler?” Hopper shouts.

“He’s having a panic attack!” El says angrily.

Hopper immediately calms, sitting down and sighing.

“Sorry. I was startled.”

You nod, tears streaming down your face.

You can’t calm down either.

So you just keep pacing.

“Why is he panicking?” Hopper asks.

“He thinks something is going to happen again this year.”

“Yeah, I’m panicking about that too.”

Hopper coughs for a long moment before groaning.

“Okay, kid. You can stay here. But, uh. I’m not sure how much less you can panic here.”

You flush furiously and shrug, “I wanted to be near El.”

The look Hopper gives you clearly says You’re killing me kid but you don’t look away.

“Fine. You guys can have a sleepover out here. And please sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

“Yes Hop,” El reassures.

“Out here.”

“Yes!” you say, nodding rapidly with your eyes wide. Hopper gives you a look and then goes to grab you both some blankets, before turning back into his room. He leaves the door partially open.

“Why is he acting weird,” El mutters.

“Dunno,” you mutter, and you hate yourself for lying, “Let’s just… sleep.”

You lie down next to her, and you hold each other in your arms, and you manage to fall asleep eventually, even though worries and fears of the future refuse to stop dancing angrily in your head.

October 31, 1975

This is the first year you haven’t gone trick or treating.

You’re having a party instead, and you actually don’t mind it much.

You and the whole rest of the party are at some other kid’s house, all dressed up in costumes. Jane is dressed as Leia and you’ve dressed as Han to match, though she insists on carrying around a lightsaber with her.

“Ha! Hopper!” someone shouts at her. She looks up and glares.

“What?”

“Should have worn the bikini.”

“Why? I’d be cold,” El demands, frowning even more.

She had loved Return of the Jedi when you took her to see it, but of course that had been a while ago now.

“Classic Hopper,” the girl snorts, before walking away. Jane looks up at you and frowns.

“Should I have worn the bikini?”

“No,” you answer immediately, “You would have been cold.”

You still don’t know what she knows and what she doesn’t know and you don’t want to be the first person to break through that complete topical silence.

For some reason, you have a feeling it would be a bad idea.

El nods, and goes to grab a drink.

“Wait, you don’t know what’s in that –“ you say, running up to her. She gives you a look.

“I can handle it.”

“But –“

“I can handle it.”

You can tell from her face that she isn’t going to take no for an answer. She pours a bunch of the punch into a cup and drinks it, smiling as she does so.

You take some too, drinking and pressing your cup against hers. It burns on the way down, and you feel kind of woozy, and not in a good way.

“There’s alcohol in this isn’t there,” you say, frowning.

“Yup,” El says, “Bitchin’.”

You frown at her.

You don’t want her to start drinking again.

But who are you to talk? You cut multiple times a day and honestly have to eat a bunch of sugary foods to not feel faint most days.

“Come on, let’s dance,” El urges, and before you know it she’s dragged you to the dance floor and twirling around together, even though everyone around you is dancing in much different ways. She doesn’t seem to care though, and she’s smiling and laughing at you, and you can’t help but smile and laugh at you.

“Guys!”

You look over to see Will running up to you, dressed as Chewbacca.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Max is like, super drunk, and Lucas is having trouble –“

“Shit,” you mutter, and you and Jane run over to Max, who is vomiting into a bush. Max is dressed as Lobot, and Lucas as Lando (he wanted to this year), and Dustin is dressed as Luke.

“What do we do?” Dustin asks, pacing, “What do we do?”

El immediately runs forward to Max and helps her up, letting Max lean on her shoulder. You watch in amazement as El leads Max over to a bench and helps her sit down.

“Okay, you just rest,” El says softly, “If you feel like you’re going to pass out, lie down on your side. Lucas?”

Lucas runs forward and nods.

“Watch her. If she passes out, come find one of us and we’ll take her home,” El says simply. Lucas nods and hugs her, mouthing thanks.

El just nods and heads back inside, so you follow her quickly.

“El –“

“I need more.”

“El…”

“Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not going to!”

“Good!”

El grabs another drink and chugs it, before chugging a third. You watch her with worry, frowning and feeling yourself tense up.

“Sorry,” El mumbles, “I’m just…”

“What?” you ask quietly.

“Stressed.”

You nod, “Yeah. I’m sorry. I haven’t been easy lately.”

El leans up and kisses you softly, making some boys whoop in a corner. You flick them off without thinking, before pulling away from her.

“I don’t care, Marty. I really don’t. I love you,” she says, and all her words come out jumbled and slurred, but she smiles as she says it, “I just… school is hard for me too. I need to… I think Dustin called it let off steam?”

“Yeah,” you agree, “Me too.” You take two cups of punch yourself and drink it, and sway on your feet in shock.

“Marty!” El shouts, “You haven’t had as much experience as me –“

“I am quickly realizing that –“ you slur out.

“Oh no,” El groans, and she helps keep you upright, but you pull her out to dance and you spin her around a lot, even though you’re already dizzy.

“Marty!” El gasps.

“S-sorry –“

“You need to go sit down too.”

You nod, and you watch her as she drags you outside, and she looks so beautiful, you just wish you could kiss her all the time –

You’re sitting next to Max and you sway in your spot, your head spinning –

Spinning –

Spinning –

Spinning –

Suddenly you feel like you’re looking over a cliff, down to a quarry below –

You spin back –

Quarry –

Party –

Quarry –

Party –

Quarry –

Party –

Quarry –

Party –

Vomit –

El holds your curly hair back as you vomit all over the ground, and sooths you, and you flit back to the present.

You’re so dizzy you can’t even think properly but why would you get a flashback now?

Why were you getting flashbacks at all?

“I’m a mess,” you mumble quietly.

“So am I,” El reassures, and you somehow find this comforting, even though she’s your main source of relief.

“We’re all messes together,” Max reassures softly, her words all meshed together still.

“Yeah,” Will agrees.

“And we’ll get through this as a team,” Lucas finishes.

“As a Party,” Dustin emphasizes.

You look up at all of them and smile weakly, before resting your head against El's shoulder and just trying to regain yourself.

All messes together.

Well at the very least there’s that, you guess.

November 1, 1975

You wake up with your head pounding again.

Everything just hurts.

And you don’t really particularly want to get out of bed.

“El, come on. You have school.”

“Screw off,” you mutter quietly into your pillow.

“El, seriously?”

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“I don’t care about the swearing, just… I’m assuming you drank last night?”

“Yeah.”

“How much did you drink?”

“Dunno. It was punch.”

“How many cups?”

“Four.”

“Four?”

“Three all at once and then another later on.”

“Good grief, kid.”

You bury your head in the pillow more and grumble.

“You get into fights. You use your powers. You mouth off to teachers. Honestly the only thing that seems to actually be going okay is that your grades are pretty damn high.”

“I’m getting a B- in Spanish,” you mutter.

“Yeah, and a B+ in English, and A’s in everything else. I’m very proud of you.”

You finally remove your head from the pillow, “You are?”

“I am. But you really need to get your act together,” Hopper sighs.

You glare at him, “Didn’t you get in trouble a lot in High School?”

“Do as I say not as I do.”

“Bullshit.”

“Kid…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but lets out a long and rough cough.

“Bull. Shit,” you shout, sitting up and glaring at him, “That’s bullshit.”

“Fine, you want a reason?”

“Yes!”

“Because people care about your conduct. Because you’re a smart kid and you should go to college and do something with that brain of yours that doesn’t involve moving things with it, but schools are going to look at how you behave and if they see you’re a ‘problem’ child they won’t take you.”

“Oh,” you mutter.

“There it is, kid.”

“Did you go to college?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I got into a lot of trouble in high school, I’m not a smart cookie like you are, and frankly I didn’t want to. I went to the army instead.”

“The… army?”

“Yeah, the Korean war. We talked about it a little while we finished up your history overview this summer.”

“I remember. You just haven’t mentioned it before…”

You’re confused. You remember seeing a box with “KOREA” on it down underneath the floorboards last year, but neither of you have ever really talked about it together before.

“Well I don’t like to talk about it.”

“Why not?”

“It was rough, El.”

You nod, “Okay.”

“But you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to do any of that. You can go to college. But you can’t… be acting out like this forever. They won’t like that.”

“I’ll try to do better,” you mutter softly.

“That’s all I can ask. Now, are you actually up for going to school today?”

You groan again.

“Alright, I’ll call you in sick. Just please don’t make a habit of this.”

You nod and roll back over in bed, pressing your face into the pillow and falling fast asleep again.

You wake up sometime later in the day, crawling out of bed and walking back over to the living room. The birds scream immediately upon you entering and you run to them, opening the cage and letting them both crawl onto your arms.

“Hey guys,” you greet quietly, not saying much of anything as your head continues to pound. The birds scream in your ear anyway, but you don’t mind much. You just listen to them and give them scritches, before cleaning out their food bowls and the bottom of their cage.

You then sit down and start watching TV with them on your shoulders, before you hear a knock on the door.

You frown and get up, opening the door and looking in shock.

“Can we talk?” Max asks, looking exhausted. You nod and let her in, putting Chester on her shoulder. She proceeds to lie down on the floor – no, flop is a better word for it.

“Ellllllll.”

“Maaaaax?” you respond, frowning.

“I skipped school today because yesterday was a mistake.”

“I’m not confused about that…”

She looks up and stares at you, “Let’s be real for one second.”

You nod quietly.

“Don’t you hate being the new kid?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “All the time.”

“Like, don’t get me wrong. The boys are great. But I would like to have the opportunity to make new friends.”

You frown, “I dunno…”

“Okay, you’re a great big ol’ bag of strange,” Max pauses, “So I get why you wouldn’t want to have other friends. And that’s fine for you.”

You smile.

“But I had a normal life at one point, and as much as I love being a part of the Apocalypse Brigade, I also wouldn’t mind being able to hang out with other people too. Have multiple groups of friends. But the moment I try to talk to anyone else they brand me as a loser nerd with weirdo friends. Do you ever get that?”

“I don’t really try to talk to other people,” you mumble.

“Yeah,” Max sits up and frowns at you, “Yeah, I guess you’re not the right person to talk to about this either.”

“I don’t mind though.”

“Like, the reason we were all at that party last night was ‘cause I was trying to befriend Olivia and she was like ‘you should come to the party I’m having for Halloween!’ so I was like ‘okay sure I was going to do stuff with some other friends’ and she’s like ‘bright them along’ and so then I did, we all went together rather than trick or treat because of that and then when I got there with you all she was like ‘oh I didn’t realize you meant them’ and I was like ‘what are you talking about’ and she was like ‘I figured you had non-loser friends’ and then she and a bunch of her friends laughed at me and it was so mortifying, you know?”

“I would have just punched them.”

“I thought about it but I didn’t want us to get kicked out. We’d all just gotten there and Dustin was being challenged to a keg stand.”

“Which was a mistake.”

“And then I didn’t want to get one upped so I drank way too much and now here I am dead on your floor.”

“Which was also a mistake.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Why do you want other friends so much?” you ask quietly.

Max sits up and frowns at you.

“How do I explain this… basically whenever we all hang out all we talk about is like, school, or nerdy stuff, or the strange things, or how everyone’s screwed up, and that’s fine, but sometimes I want to talk about other things. Like skateboarding! Or boys – and look, El, I love you, but we can’t talk about those boys together, you end up defending them all the time –“

“I do not –” you’re mostly confused that she’d say ‘I love you’ to you, but you’re going along with it.

“You do too! Last time I complained about them to you you were like ‘well Marty just doesn’t like to be surprised’ or ‘Will needed the green pencil for his trees’ and I just wanted to complain!”

You sigh, “Okay.”

“But that’s okay! We don’t have to complain about the boys together. And I’d complain about them to the other boys but none of them can keep a damn secret to save their lives –“

You giggle at that.

“Well, they can keep their own secrets, but not other peoples.”

You laugh more.

“So like, who do I complain about our group to?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, “I mostly just talk with Mike.”

“And I’d do that with Lucas, but Lucas is really bad at talking about these things. He gets super uncomfortable. Plus, you know, you and Marty hang out more than we do.”

“Why?”

“Cause you guys are like, soulmates –“

“What’s a soulmate?”

Max rests her head on her hands and frowns at you, “Surely you know that one by now.”

“I think I’ve heard it? But I’ve stopped questioning every word I hear now… I just kind of figure I’ll find out eventually.”

“Right, makes sense. Well a soulmate is like… it’s more than just the person you’re in love with, or even like, the person you marry or whatever. Soulmate is basically… if you have one, you’re destined to be together. You aren’t just in love, you aren’t just together, you’re like… inseparable. Like magnets are pulling the two of you together. I love Lucas,” Max pauses, “Wow that was hard to say –“

You smile.

“I basically have only told him. Anyway, I love Lucas, but like, if something happened and we weren’t together anymore, I’d be upset, and it would take me some time to move on, but I like, could, you know?”

You frown, but nod.

You don’t really know but you understand, you think.

“But like. You and Marty. I feel like you could move on eventually but you’d never be whole again if you lost him. And same for him and you. That’s what being a soulmate is.”

You nod again.

“Yeah. I don’t… yeah.”

“Anyways, that’s a cheerful topic,” Max pauses, “Back to the main thing – basically I just want to have other people to talk to about stuff.”

“I don’t really… think I need that,” you admit.

“That’s fine for you,” Max shrugs, “We’re different people.”

You laugh, “Yes.”

It seems so obvious that it wouldn’t even need to really be said, but you find it funny.

“Also like, I need someone to talk to about… girl shit,” Max groans, “I hate saying that sentence.”

“Girl… shit?”

“You know, bras and periods and stuff.”

“Right.”

You don’t know, but you don’t want to seem stupid in front of her.

“And you just aren’t the one to talk about it all.”

“No, I’m not,” you agree.

“And I can talk to Anne sometimes but she’s older and she has other concerns like sex, and I’m not at that point yet, so I don’t really want to talk about that.”

You just nod again, not wanting to question her.

You have no idea what she’s even talking about.

“Like, can you even imagine being naked in front of a boy? Yeesh.”

You frown.

A wave of memories wash over you and you don’t like them.

They make you feel gross, and icky, and not yourself – like you’ve gone backwards in time two years to someone you used to be.

But you nod anyway in agreement with her, because you get the feeling that she’s grossed out by the thought, and you agree with that.

“How’s your headache doing?” Max asks.

You sigh, “It hurts. Let’s have some water.”

Max agrees and you spend the rest of the day watching movies together and playing with the birds, but you can’t help but feel shaken the whole time.

November 2, 1975

You’re sitting next to Will’s bed, drawing on a piece of paper and humming along to the song playing on the stereo. Will is singing along with it, drawing as well, his face lit up into a wide smile you aren’t used to seeing on it.

“Don’t you just love this song?”

“Yeah,” you agree, grinning at him, “Thank you for showing me.”

“Of course! They go a little hard for my taste but honestly they’re just way too good.”

“I like how intense they are,” you argue, looking up and smiling at him, “Especially Bad Words”.

“We can listen to that again!” Will says, “Give me a sec.”

He rewinds the tape a bunch and finds the song, playing it and banging his head, sending his long hair all around. You bang your head with him, making your curly hair go all over the place. You both laugh together and scream along with the lyrics, dancing all around his room.

“What’s the name of this group again?” you ask when you finish dancing around, frowning at him.

“Oh – Circle Jerks.”

“Circle… Jerks?”

“Yeah.”

“What does that mean?”

“I dunno, but I like their stuff.”

“Me too,” you beam at him, and you listen to more of it as you both doodle together.

“How is art class?”

“Good! I like a lot of the kids in there.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. No one calls me ‘zombie boy’.”

You laugh quietly, “That sounds nice.”

“It is. And I get to draw every day!”

“I wish I could.”

“You always could in study hall –“

“That’s Spanish class number two and you know it.”

“Yeah yeah – can I see what you’re working on?”

You nod and show him a drawing of one of your birds. Will grins at you.

“Nice Chester. You should show him when you get home.”

“He’ll just eat the paper.”

You both giggle together for a while.

“What are you drawing?” you ask him.

“Oh… one sec,” Will quickly colors something and then shows you. It’s a picture of a scene under the ocean, and there are a bunch of rainbow – colored fish swimming through colorful coral.

“Wow!” you breathe.

“Yeah, I’m really proud of this one. Think Mom’ll put it on the fridge like I’m five or something,” Will grins.

“She’s proud of you,” you say simply.

“Yeah,” Will laughs. He looks over out the door of his room and frowns.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Oh… nothing.”

“Come on, Will.”

Will looks at you and frowns.

“Just wish Joseph was around more.”

“Oh…”

“He’s always with Anne, which is fine, but like… I dunno. He’s going away to college next year. We only have so much time together, you know?”

You nod.

“Are he and Anne soulmates?” you ask quietly. Will frowns at you.

“I dunno.”

“You know what those are, right?”

“Course I do,” Will laughs.

“Do you not think they exist? Or something?”

You’ve been having your own doubts since you talked to Max yesterday.

“Oh, I think they’re a thing.”

“Oh…”

“You and Marty, for example. Total soulmates.”

You laugh.

“And everyone has one.”

“Everyone… has one?”

“Yeah!”

“How do you know?”

You don’t find yourself believing him and you want to know why he thinks this.

“I don’t, really. But I hope so,” Will smiles, but his smile is sad.

“What’s wrong?” you ask quietly.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just hope I have one,” Will shrugs, “I feel… alone, a lot.”

“You’re not alone. I’m right here.”

Will smiles at you, “I mean like, like I’ll never find someone to be with, you know? Like I’m just… doomed to never fall in love.”

“That’s stupid.”

Will glares a little at you.

“I mean – of course someone’s going to fall in love with you.”

“It just seems unlikely.”

You lean over and flick him on the arm and he shouts.

“Don’t think like that. You’ll find someone.”

He smiles sadly again.

“Yeah. Someone.”

And you both return to drawing while listening to music.

November 3, 1975

“Hey Marty?”

“Yeah El?”

“Are we soulmates?”

Marty spits out the water he was sipping.

“Are we – what now?”

“Soulmates. Max explained to me what it is and told me we are. Will thinks we are too.”

“Uh…”

“Sorry,” you frown.

“No, no, it’s… uh… it’s fine. I guess we are?”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m not sure I believe in the idea, honestly.”

“Oh…” But, truthfully, you’re a little relieved.

“Like, one person you’re destined to be with forever? And everyone has one? That seems wrong. It implies a lot more order to the universe than I think there actually is.”

You look at him seriously, “Talk to me more about it.”

Marty sighs, “I mean, like. Everything sucks. I think I believe in God… most… days… maybe…”

“I am never going to understand God,” you huff, frowning.

“You don’t have to.”

“Thanks.”

“But like… everything’s random, you know? Like you and I meeting was just by chance. My grandparents surviving the Shoah was just by chance. There are plenty of hypothetical other kids out there who’s grandparents died during it and like, they don’t exist. I’m just lucky. So why should there be someone out there I’m destined to be with?”

You nod in understanding.

“But I mean. I guess. In a more… loose sense. Like, not ‘destiny’ or a set thing for every person or whatever but more…”

“That person is a part of you?” you offer quietly, coming up with words to describe what you’d been trying to figure out for two days.

“Yeah,” Marty agrees, just as quietly, “Then I can get on board with that.”

You look at him for a long time and your heart is pounding much too fast in your chest, because he’s giving you that look again, the one he gave you when you reunited last year, or at the snow ball, or when he came back from camp, and it always makes you feel so weird, but now you felt weird already because of what you and Max talked about, and you’re just confused but you’re also happy because he’s looking at you like that again and it always makes you happy and your stomach flip and your heart pound and your fingers tingle and you just… want… to…

He leans in and kisses you, and it’s different from other kisses you’ve had before. His hand is in your hair and he’s so close to you that you can feel how lanky he is, like when you hug, but you’re kissing, not hugging. And his lips are moving against yours a little bit, and it makes you lose your breath, and you try to move yours back and he makes a sound that makes your stomach flip, and his other hand is on your waist and drawing you closer to him, so close that you can feel him move against you and wrap his arms tightly around you. You grab onto the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you, making him squeak into your mouth, and before you can resettle yourself the two of you are falling down against the wood of your floor, and you pull away and look at him with wide eyes.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, his eyes equally wide.

“Sorry,” you whisper back, and he laughs, and you laugh with him. He sits up and pulls you up with him, before sliding away and sitting a little farther on the floor. You frown at that and scoot back over to him, resting your head on his shoulder and closing your eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be tutoring me in history?”

You make a mumbling sound and just keep your eyes closed, nuzzling your head against his neck.

“Oh fine, guess I’ll just study Spanish by myself.”

You feel your eyes fly open and you rush to grab your history book, opening it to a page on the Roman Empire and reading aloud from it.

“You know, I knew that would work,” Marty grins.

“Shush,” you say, “In what year did Titus rise to become the Emperor of Rome?”

“Oh come on, El –“

“Nope, answer the question.”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s such a shame. Guess I get your cookie,” you say, reaching over for the chocolate chip cookie on the floor. Marty snatches it away from you quicker, and you gasp.

“You broke a rule!”

“I did not!”

“Did too!”

You both laugh for a while and continue to bicker over the cookie. Marty puts it in his mouth, though half of it is hanging out. You glare at him and lean over to kiss him, and also take the other half of the cookie.

Marty squeaks in surprise and looks at you with wide eyes. You chew the cookie, though crumbs have fallen all over the floor so that you really didn’t get that much into your mouth, and swallow.

“Ha!”

“You lost like half the cookie!”

“Whatcha going to do about it?”

He leans over and kisses you again, almost like before but not as close. Your breath escapes your body all at once.

“That,” he whispers, and he’s looking at you with those eyes again that make you feel like you’re melting in a good way.

POUND! POUND! POUND!

You look up at the door in shock.

“You two should be STUDYING in there, not GOOFING OFF!” Hopper yells.

“Yes sir!” Marty squeaks, leaning over and grabbing his book again and burying his face in it.

“I can keep quizzing you,” you offer. Marty nods, and you return to that, talking happily for the rest of the day.

If you’re being honest, it’s the last day you see him truly happy before everything went to shit.

November 7, 1975

You hate Spanish with a fiery burning passion, but at least it’s only one period of the day.

Every time you manage to get out of that class you’re filled with a sense of extreme relief, and today is no different. You practically skip off to Gym, even though Gym is just as bad, and run down to the locker room. Max is already there, sitting on a bench and waiting for you.

“Hey,” she greets, nodding.

“Hey,” you mutter, throwing your clothes into your locker and pulling out your gym clothes.

“Oh Hop-per!”

You turn to face the girl talking to you in a sing-song voice – Renee, another Freshman who looks like she’s a Senior.

“What do you want?” you grumble.

“What’s your bra size, again?”

You glare at her.

“Why do you care?”

“It’s just fun to see you get all nervous about it,” Renee laughs, and all the other girls laugh with her.

You slam your locker shut and glare at her. She backs away, holding her hands up in the air.

“Don’t get all crazy on me, you whacko.”

You glare at her still until she and her friends walk away, before letting out your breath in a sigh and resting your head against the locker wall.

“She’s a bitch,” Max says simply.

You sigh again.

“I’m serious, El.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “But I am crazy.”

“So am I. Big deal.”

You smile weakly at Max and you both go upstairs together, running around the gym and throwing balls at each other. You’ll never understand the rules of these games, but at one point during one round when you were playing against Renee, you take the opportunity to just –

Flick –

And send the ball flying into her head. She goes down, hard, against the floor, groaning.

“Ow!”

The teacher goes running up to her, helping her off the floor while you grin from across the net. Max looks over at you, and you grin at her as she grins at you.

“Let’s get you to the nurse’s office –“

“That freak made me fall!”

You put on your best innocent face. The teacher looks at you suspiciously.

“She couldn’t have, she hadn’t touched the ball in ages, sir,” Max pipes up.

“Yeah,” you agree, “It was Max’s serve.”

“It was,” Renee’s friend grumbles, looking annoyed.

“So you did it?” the teacher demands.

“Not on purpose, sir,” Max says.

The teacher grunts, but then helps Renee out of the room. Her friend glares at you both.

“I don’t know how, but one of you weirdos sent that ball at her head,” she hisses, “So watch out.”

“I dunno man,” Max laughs, “If either one of us had some sort of magical ability to send objects flying where they shouldn’t go, you should probably be the one to watch out, right?”

The friend glares more, but the clock ticks down and everyone runs to the locker room before more words can be said.

November 10, 1975

The blood has gotten all over the place this time.

You’re helping to clean it up, but you know you’re not going to be able to get all of it, and you’re overwhelmed with the iron smell filling your nose.

Marty is groaning next to you and you don’t really pause to help him, you just keep cleaning up as much as you can around him. He’s wrapped up his thigh with a bandage, at least, so that problem is not immediately urgent.

You finally dry up the cleaning spray off the carpet and sit back down, panting quietly and looking over at Marty.

“Sorry,” Marty mumbles.

“Stop saying that,” you mutter.

“I can’t,” Marty sobs, holding his face in his hands, “I can’t stop saying I’m sorry –“

“Then… just… change the subject.”

“Change the subject?” Marty demands, looking up and glaring at you through his tears, “How can I do that?”

“I don’t know,” you mutter.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles again.

You just sigh and stare at your knees.

“I can’t stop saying it. It’s like the word just spills out of my mouth before I can stop myself.”

“Why are you sorry all the time, Marty?”

Marty frowns, looking at his hands, “I… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

Marty shakes his head, “I don’t.”

“Friends. Don’t. Lie.”

He looks up at you and frowns, “I… I’m sorry I exist.”

You burst into tears at that, holding your own face in your own hands and just shaking.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have said that, I shouldn’t have –“

“Shut up!” you scream. Marty looks at you in shock.

“Just shut up!” you repeat, “Just shut up!”

“I’ve shut up,” Marty mumbles.

You immediately feel bad.

“I didn’t meant that – I’m sorry – I’m sorry Marty – I’m sorry –“

“Maybe you should go,” he whispers, and his voice is hoarse and his words seem hollow.

“No.”

“El…”

“I’m not leaving you.”

He nods, letting out a long breath.

“I’m really, really, really sorry,” you mumble, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”

“I understand why you did.”

“Well that doesn’t make it okay.”

“I forgive you.”

“Thanks.”

You open up your arms and pull him into a long hug as he cries into your chest. He cries and cries and cries for a long time, before sniffling and looking at you.

“I’m going to fail the class.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am –“

“No, you’re not.”

“But I failed the test –“

“You’ll pull yourself out of it. I know you will.”

“You can’t know that –“

“I do know that.”

“How?”

“Because you’re Marty. You’ve gotten through all of this so far and you’ll keep getting through it until…”

“Until?”

“Until things have gotten better. Until life is easier.”

“Will it ever be?”

“It has to,” you whisper.

“No it doesn’t.”

“Well, there’s no use in thinking it won’t.”

Marty nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. You hold onto him tigheter and kiss him on the side of his head.

“Look, I know things look bad,” you murmur, “I know another failed test isn’t a good sign. But you can do this. We’re just going to study even more for the next one, okay?”

“I just can’t focus on it at all,” Marty mumbles.

“What will help you focus?”

“I’m not sure.”

You nod, frowning.

“I think I might have to study alone.”

“Okay,” you agree quietly.

“You help a lot, but I just get… distracted… because of you,” Marty admits.

“Distracted how?” you ask softly.

“I just… I end up wanting to kiss you more than I want to study,” Marty mumbles, blushing rapidly. You blush too.

“I… uh… okay,” you say.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to weird you out.”

“No, it’s okay.”

He sighs again, looking out in front of him.

“Maybe I should meet with the guidance counselor or something.”

“Guidance counselor?”

“Like, a Dr. Owens for the whole school. But not as smart or in the know about how weird Grand Rapids is.”

You laugh, “Yeah, that would be good.”

Marty nods, but begins crying again, holding his face against his knees.

“I studied s-s-s-s-so hard, El! I studied so hard! How come I didn’t pass?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, “I don’t know.”

“I feel like I’ll never pull myself out of this hole.”

“Don’t say never.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s just like giving up before you even try.”

“Haven’t I?”

You pull him by the shoulders so that you look at him straight in the eye, “Please, Marty.”

“Please what?”

“You need to keep it together. You’re scaring me.”

He looks at you with the same kind of eyes you’d see him have when he thought you were dead, only a little more than a year ago. Or when he was trapped in the base and the Necromancers were coming.

It breaks your heart.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to stop.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“So then…”

“You won’t lose me,” he promises quietly.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

You don’t know if you believe him or not.

But friends don’t lie, right?

You pull him into a long hug and just hold him, letting him cry into your shoulder as you wait for him to run out of tears.

“Talk to the Counselor,” you urge, “It’ll help.”

He nods.

“Talking to Dr. Owens is helping me so much, Marty –“

“I know,” he smiles weakly, “I’m really glad.”

“So why can’t this help you?”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs weakly, “I’ll go. I’ll set up an appointment for this week.”

You beam at him and give him a long, big kiss, making him squeak and look at you with slightly happier eyes.

“So, do you want to try to study, or just rest?”

“I can help you with Spanish… we have it this week… and I should study for that too.”

“I don’t want to make you –“

“You’re not making me.”

You nod, and the two of you pull out your books and study together until your eyes are too tired to continue.

November 14, 1975

Thursday is the earliest day Mr. Maybank could see you. You walk into his office nervously, sitting down in front of him and fidgeting.

“Hello, Mr. Wheeler.”

You smile at him weekly, “Uh, hi.”

Your brain is kind of spinning a little bit.

You feel… weird.

Like you’ve been walking separate from yourself for days.

This morning you couldn’t escape from a memory again – when you thought you saw Will’s body coming out of the quarry –

You couldn’t escape and you didn’t even really feel like you were in the present –

Your nose kept bleeding, too, which was random and weird and distressing.

It had left you feeling separate from your body for the rest of the day.

“What brings you in today?”

You take a deep breath, even though your heart is pounding so hard and fast you feel nauseous, and you just kind of want to run out of there and never look back, but you’re not allowed to so here you sit, looking at the Guidance Counselor and wishing that things were different.

Wishing your whole life was different.

“Um. I’m worried about history,” you mumble quietly.

“I’m going to need you to speak up.”

“I’m worried about history,” you say louder, wishing your heart would just calm the fuck down for maybe five seconds.

“Your performance in history class?”

You nod quietly.

“Let’s see here… yes… yes Miss Ford mentioned that you were not performing adequately in the class,” Mr. Maybank says, pulling out some papers and reading from them.

“Yeah… I did alright the first test but the other two I’ve failed,” you whisper quietly.

“Yes, yes I see that here. You do alright on homework assignments though,” Mr. Maybank pauses, “So what seems to be the problem?”

“I… um… I have a lot of trouble focusing.”

“Focusing?”

“Yeah. On the dates and stuff. And that’s a large portion of the exams in Miss Ford’s class.”

“Hmm, yes,” Mr. Maybank writes a few things down, “Why do you have trouble focusing on the dates?”

“I can’t seem to memorize them. My brain just… doesn’t want to retain it.”

“Do you have trouble with things like this in your other classes?”

“Not really, no. I can remember stuff for biology exams just fine, and stories and books and stuff are interesting enough that I remember the characters for those, too…”

“So it’s just history dates?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” you ask quietly.

“I am thinking, young man.”

“Right, sorry,” you mumble.

“Well looking at these exam scores it’s going to be very difficult for you to bring your grade up, especially since you seem to not be able to handle the course material proper.”

“Right…”

Your heart sinks into your stomach and you just want to go somewhere and cry. Preferably a bathroom. Hopefully an empty one.

“So what did you want to talk about? You seem aware of that situation.”

“I… was wondering if I could be transferred to a different class.”

“A different class?”

“I hear some other history classes don’t involve as much memorization of dates,” you whisper, “And it’s more… like, what happened, or why things happened, and stuff. I can do that part just fine, it’s why I get good grades on the homework.”

“Well, Mr. Wheeler, we can’t all pick and choose what we do in life.”

“No, but –“

“We all have to try and do different tasks as best we can.”

“Yes, but –“

“Allowing you to transfer to a different class would just be letting you avoid the problem, now, wouldn’t it?”

“Um… I guess.”

“It is a shame you’re having trouble memorizing the dates for your class, but eventually you’ll have to memorize things like dates for other classes in High School. And what kind of counselor would I be if I didn’t make you try and gain that skill now, rather than let you skate by and fail sometime in the future?”

“But… I’m not learning the skills to memorize dates.”

“Have you talked to Miss Ford about it?”

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Have you tried different methods?”

“I’ve done a bunch of different stuff.”

“Is it possible that you just don’t want to study the course material?”

“I mean, I don’t want to, no, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t study. I study more for this class than I do for any of the others.”

“Hmm,” he says.

You wait, wishing your stomach would stop churning.

Or your mind would stop spinning.

Or your head would stop hurting.

“Mr. Wheeler, what are your goals?”

“My… goals?”

“Yes. What would you like to get out of your education to move forward in a career.”

“I… haven’t thought about it.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean, I have a couple ideas of what I’d like to do, but I figured I had time to… decide all of that. Since I’m just a Freshman.”

“Well, Mr. Wheeler, I see that this failure –“

“Failure?”

“Like I said, it will be very difficult to pull your grade up in this class. You would, essentially, have to receive only A’s on the rest of the exam, and if you are unable to memorize dates as you claim –“

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t let yourself cry.

You can’t –

“I see that this failure is not a surprise based on your record.”

“Based on my… what?”

“You haven’t failed a previous class but your grades have been slipping for the past two years, compared to your performance in the sixth grade and elementary school.”

“Um, yeah…”

“And you seem to be having increased behavioral problems besides that.”

“Yeah…”

“Care to talk to me about those?”

“Um…”

Your best friend got sucked into an alternate dimension

And you and a girl who was abused her whole life had to save him

And that girl got sucked into the alternate dimension and then got chased away from you by the government who wanted to take her back to the place where she was abused

And you spent an entire year not knowing if she was alive or dead

And becoming increasingly aware that everything else sucked too from bullies to racism to antisemtism to all that stuff against gay people to sexism

And bullies kept attacking you and your friends

And then that friend who got sucked into a dimension started to act really weird and got possessed

And then a bunch of people died because they just wouldn’t leave a little girl alone

And then your parents started fighting all the time

And then school was overwhelming

And…

And…

And…

“I’ve just. Had a lot happen. Over the past two years.”

“Yes, you’re friends with Will Byers, I believe?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been rough.”

“it has.”

“I just don’t see how it would lead you to act out in this way.”

“I… I’m angry with how it was all handled. And the cover up from the Department of Energy with Barb. And… just… a lot of stuff makes me angry lately.”

“Hmm. Have you talked to anyone about that anger?”

“Not really.”

“It seems to me that you have it pretty good in life.”

“I – what?”

“You have a good group of friends, you have a girlfriend, you have your family and a nice house and a nice income. You aren’t wanting of anything.”

“No, but…”

“And you’re smart. I feel like you are just acting out for attention, young man.”

“I… what?”

“This is common in adolescents such as yourself. Something major happens – like losing your friend for a bit there – and you realize that you enjoy the attention and the adrenaline-inducing nature of such moments, so you try to create more of them.”

“I… that’s not what…”

“But, it’s important to realize Mr. Wheeler that wanting attention is not a substitute for being the best person you can be.”

You’re just silent.

Now everything feels as though it’s shattered completely.

As though all the cells inside of you have broken up and now you’re just a soup of nucleic acids and protein and carbohydrates and lipids.

This isn’t helping.

This isn’t helping at all.

“Continuing down this path may destroy any future you decide you want yourself to have. For example, behaving in this way – yelling at teachers, getting into fights, even apparently carrying weapons at camp, it won’t look good to future colleges. And neither will this failure in history.”

“I… don’t want to fail history.”

“Do you want to go to college?”

You nod mutely.

“Well, Mr. Wheeler, I simply don’t see that happening if you continue down the path you are going.”

You’d be shocked by this if you had any feeling left in your body.

“Acting out, failing classes, being violent – these are not things colleges look for in prospective students.”

You nod again.

“If you don’t turn your behavior and performance around, then I believe you should try to consider another career path for the future.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

You just want to leave the room.

“Do you have any questions?”

“Not… really. Um. What will happen if I fail first semester history?”

“You’ll take the second semester but we’ll ask you to make up the first semester in the summer.”

“Got it,” you whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Maybank.”

You get up and leave the room without another word, and you don’t go to Algebra or Lit class, either. You just leave the school and start mutely walking home.

Disconnected from yourself like this, you feel like your body is being piloted by another person, and you are just watching yourself walk through the streets of Grand Rapids, the dead trees around you echoing how you feel from their bare branches to dead leaves to the wind whistling through them.

You know El will be worried about you in Literature but you just can’t turn around and go back.

After a while, you reach your house and step inside, dropping off your bag at the front of the door. You walk inside and whisper, quietly, “Mom?”

You hear footsteps and your mom walks up to you, looking at you with worry.

“Marty? What are you doing home?”

You want to cry but you can’t seem to let the tears out now.

“I… um..”

“Marty, what’s wrong? You’re scaring me.”

You bite your lip for a minute.

“Um… I met with the… I met with… I met with the guidance counselor today.”

“Oh, what about?”

“I... I… I…”

Mom grabs you gently by the wrists and pulls you to sit down with her on the base of the stairs, looking at you straight in the eye.

“Marty, take your time. I’m listening. I’m here for you.”

You nod, swallowing, before bursting into tears and holding your face in your hands. You sob and sob and sob and sob and sob, shaking as each one escapes from your body, and Mom pulls you into a long hug as you cry.

“Just let it out. You can talk when you’re ready.”

You nod and keep crying and sniffling, shaking from head to foot and wishing that you would stop crying. Your head starts to hurt and your eyes already ache and you feel so cold and lost and like you’re broken, oh so very broken, in every part of you.

“I – I – I – I – I –“

“Deep breaths, Matthew. Just take deep breaths.”

You breathe in and out but each breath is staggered and rushed as you continue to sob.

“I… I… I…”

“Shhh, shhhh,” Mom sooths, rubbing your back and looking at you with worry.

“I’m… I met with the G-G-G-G-Guidance Counselor t-t-t-today…”

“Alright.”

“He says I’m g-g-g-gonna fail history –“

“What?”

“I failed the last test, too, and he says its impossible for me to bring my g-grades up w-without a m-miracle –“

“What?”

“Please d-d-d-don’t be mad at m-me –“

“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at him!”

“Oh.”

“His job is to guide you and reassure you and help you figure out a solution, not reprimand you for a problem you already know you have!”

You sniffle.

“What else did he say to you?”

“That between this and my c-conduct I wasn’t… I’m not… I’m not going to g-get to go to c-college…”

“The nerve of that man!”

You frown at her and keep crying, tears streaming down your face.

“I am going to call the school and give them a piece of my mind. Alright, tell me why you’re having trouble with history.”

You sniffle more.

You wish you felt better.

You wish your mother’s words were helping.

And they are, logically.

But logic isn’t the problem here.

You’re a failure.

You’re a complete and utter failure.

You’ll never be a scientist.

You’ll never go to college.

You’ll never do anything with your life.

You peaked at twelve and now you’re stuck in a spiral down to shitdom.

And El will just have to carry you forever and you’ll be a burden on her for the rest of your life.

However long that is.

“I… can’t memorize the dates,” you whisper.

“Hmm, yes, I understand that. Dates suck.”

You laugh weakly though it’s hollow.

As hollow as you.

“Well look. I’ll help you study from now on, okay? And we’ll get you to pass that class together. We’ll work very very hard, and you can at least say you’ve done that, no matter what happens. And that’s what matters.”

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble.

“No, you’re not.”

“But –“

“Matthew, you are very, very, very smart. I’ve known that since you were a toddler. You’re good at science and that’s your strength. And you have a very strong sense of morality which is the only type of intelligence that actually matters.”

You smile a little.

It’s still hollow though.

Everything is hollow.

You are hollow.

“And being smart is not mutually exclusive with struggling at some things. You happen to struggle with historic dates and memorizing them. And that’s okay! You know, that doesn’t even mean you’re bad at history. Plenty of history involves things that aren’t dates. But you happen to need to learn dates for this class you’re taking, and that’s a struggle. But we’ll get through it together.”

You nod mutely.

“I’m assuming you came right home after your meeting with this awful man?”

You nod again.

“Alright, well I understand. I won’t drive you back to school. Go upstairs and rest. Be kind to yourself.”

You nod and go upstairs.

You curl up on your bed and just hold your legs up close to your chest and try to not cry more, but you can’t help it.

You bury your face in the pillow and just sob into it until you can’t really cry anymore.

November 25, 1975

“Alright Marty,” El whispers, “Come on, let’s study a little more.”

“I can’t focus,” you mutter.

“But the next test is tomorrow…”

“I can’t focus. Not with that happening downstairs.”

“But…”

“I can’t, okay?” you hiss, because you don’t want them to hear you shouting, “I just… can’t.”

“Okay,” El agrees, looking at you with her worried face.

You sneak out of the room and start creeping down the stairs to listen, El following you from a way’s back.

“That boy is no good!”

You shiver at that and swallow, hard.

“Leave him alone, Theodore.”

“He gets into fights all the time, he constantly gets bullied by other students which means there’s something off about him –“

“Theodore.”

“I mean it, Karen. He’s probably a secret queer, or maybe he’s messed up in the head and we just don’t know it –“

“Theodore, stop it. I’m warning you.”

“And now he’s failing history?”

Your eyes widen.

You thought Mom wasn’t going to tell him.

“I can’t believe you opened that letter!” Mom shouts.

“It was addressed to both of us and I am the man of the house –“

“You should have left it to me.”

“And have you continue to hide this from me?”

“Yes!”

“He’s my son, too!”

“Is he, Ted? I don’t think so.”

“What are you talking about –“

“You barely talk to him, except to yell at him. You never praise him or reassure him about his life. You don’t make any sort of effort to get to know him or encourage his interests and hobbies. And you sent him to that hellhole of a camp that just made his quote-on-quote ‘behavioral problems’ even worse. So I don’t think you get to be his father anymore, regardless of the fact that he’s your biological son.”

“That makes absolutely no sense. He’s still my son.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference between literal meaning and textual nuance, Ted.”

You’ve never heard your mother be this scathing towards your father.

“He is a burden, on this household, on our marriage, on –“

“Our marriage?”

“Ever since he started acting out we’ve been having problems –“

“Yes, because you want to blame him when he’s clearly going through something!”

“Oh don’t start that again.”

“Start what again?”

“That in-touch with your feelings crazy people crap. Our son is not a loony, he’s a trouble maker.”

“Stop talking about him like that!”

“I can talk about our son in any way I want to.”

“Theodore, you’re a piece of work.”

“What did you just say to me?”

“I said you’re a piece of work. You scream at our son. You ignore our daughters. You disrespect my culture and where I come from, and me as a person in general. When we got married we agreed. I would raise the kids, you would provide for the house, and since I’m raising them, we’d have a household in my culture’s name, with a few concessions for you. But you’ve been ignoring and disrespecting that culture from day one, and disrespecting me, and my family, and our children.”

Your dad doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, Theodore?”

“I am just treating him like my dad treated me.”

“Oh that explains a lot –“

“Explains why I have had my life turn out for me and why, what, your siblings are disasters?”

“Disasters?”

“Your brother barely earns an income –“

“You are being absolutely ridiculous right now –“

“Well then explain to me why they live in that small house.”

“There’s more to life than income, Theodore!”

“Yes, that’s why you married a successful businessman you barely knew so you could have kids with him, obviously.”

“Oh my God.”

“Just being honest, which you fail to be on a daily basis, Karen.”

“Screw you too.”

“I do not want to hear such language from my wife.”

“I can say whatever I want!”

“Oh, no wonder our son is headed on a path straight to drugs and AIDS and being a complete and utter disappointment to our family –“

“You know what – all this crap about Matthew – we’re done.”

“What?”

“We’re getting a divorce.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes I can. It’s nineteen seventy five.”

“How will you support yourself?”

“Alimony exists, and I have other means. You are damaging for Matthew and our girls too. You need to get out of the house.”

“This is my house. If you want to divorce me, fine, but you’re leaving.”

“Fine.”

“Now.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You want to leave, fine, but take your no good children with you and get the hell out of my house!”

You don’t even know what’s happening.

You feel like everything is shattering around you.

“Fine!”

You watch from the stairs as your mom walks over, looking up and seeing you.

“Matthew, please start packing your things. Just the essentials. Theodore, I expect you’ll send along the rest of our belongings? We cannot possibly pack everything in one night.”

“Fine.”

“El, it was nice to see you again, but –“

“I’ll help,” El whispers behind you.

“Thank you.”

“Where are we even going to go, mom?” Anne whispers, looking pale and coming out of her room.

“We’ll go to Zayde and Bubbe’s until I’ve come up with another plan. Come on, pack your things. I’ll call you sick from school tonight.”

Anne nods and runs back into her room. You walk, as though someone else is piloting your body, into your room and start stuffing things into your backpack.

“Matthew, I have a suitcase you can use,” Mom says suddenly. You turn around to see her hauling a suitcase into the room, and you grab it mutely. El helps you start stuffing clothing and a few other things into the suitcase, not saying anything to you, just helping.

You drag your bags downstairs and look over at El, who looks like she’s going to cry.

You don’t see your father. You assume he’s sleeping on his chair.

“The car is in my name, Theodore,” Karen shouts.

“Fine.”

Karen’s holding Holly on her hip and has a few bags with her as well. Anne comes running down the stairs with two bags, looking at you with worry.

“El, would you like a ride home?”

“Um…”

“It's no trouble.”

“I…”

“Speak up, please. We have to get going.”

You still haven’t reconnected with yourself.

“I’d like to stay with Marty… he’s… not… he’s going to be in…”

“Hmm. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that.”

“We’ve… had sleep overs before.”

“Yes, but the house we’re going to is crowded –“

“Please, Mom,” you whisper hoarsely, “It… nothing inappropriate will happen. Please. Please, Mom.”

“Alright, fine. Theodore, can I give Chief Hopper a call before we leave?”

“Make it quick.”

“Fine.”

You watch as your mom goes into the kitchen and starts talking quietly on the phone. You don’t really hear the words she says, it’s like there’s a ringing in your ears.

A loud, endless ringing.

You feel like you’re falling…

Falling…

Falling…

Falling…

And you can’t stop…

“Alright.”

You snap back.

“El can stay with you overnight. Come on, let’s go.”

You all pile into the car and you just sit in the back, pressing your face against the window and staring out of it.

“Marty?” El whispers, but you don’t answer her.

You don’t really know what to say.

The car pulls up to a small, but nice house and everyone piles inside. You follow your mom wordlessly as she goes to talk to Zayde and Bubbe.

“Good riddance,” Zayde hisses.

“David –“

“I’m sorry, but I’m also not.”

“I think the kids just need to go to sleep, Dad,” Karen sighs.

“Yes, of course. Good to see you again, El.”

El nods next to you.

“Alright, well you two and Anne can sleep in the guest room here,” Zayde says, opening the door to another room. There are two twin beds in there.

“Holly you can sleep with Karen in this room –“

You aren’t listening anymore, you just go walk up to the bed near the window and lie down on it. You stare out the window, not saying anything, not being connected to yourself.

You feel the bed shift and don’t even react when you feel an arm go around your waist, you just lie there.

It’s nice, though.

To feel El's breathing against you.

The feeling eventually lulls you to sleep, though it’s not a very restful one.

November 28, 1975

“Matthew, I understand you’re not feeling well, still, but we’re all headed over to your Aunt Olivia’s house.”

You just shake your head, burying your face in your pillow.

You have had a lot of trouble moving these days.

And you missed Wednesday as well as Tuesday because you couldn’t get out of bed and really you would have missed today too if it weren’t a holiday and you had school off anyway.

“Alright, well, just let me know if you want me to come pick you up, alright?”

“Alright, Mom,” you mutter quietly.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hear her and Anne and Holly and Zayde and Bubbe all leave the house, and you just remain in the bed, staring out in front of you and trying to not think.

Because when you think you can’t stop thinking that this is all your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

Stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it

You sit up in bed and take a long, deep, shaking breath, it burning you on the inside as you try to not cry again.

Worthless

Piece

Of

Shit

Failing a class – and now you’re really failing, because you missed the last test, and yeah sure you were called in sick, but what are the odds that you’d be able to pass a make up test when you’re like this

And acting out in school and getting into fights with anyone who even looks at Jane slightly the wrong way or makes fun of Will for any reason and constantly getting in trouble with teachers for doing it

And getting bullied by all those stupid dicks at school for being who you are and having your curly hair pulled on or your nose mocked or getting Holocaust jokes shoved in your face and getting pushed to the ground and all that awful stuff

And now your parents were divorcing because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you, because of you

Because

Of

You

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

All your fault

You sit up and hold your head in your hands and sob into them, just shaking madly and trying to breathe.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

In and out.

But everything is crushing around you.

You feel like you’re crushing inside of yourself.

And you just wish the world would stop spinning.

You just wish you would stop spinning.

You just wish.

You just wish.

You just wish you were different.

You just wish you weren’t yourself.

You just wish that your life had gone another way.

That life in general could go another way.

That it was possible for the world to be good.

But it’s not.

Everything is awful.

Nothing is ever going to get better.

You are doomed

You are doomed

You are doomed

You peaked at twelve

And now you’re going to fail history

And you’re going to flunk out of school

And never go to college

And be a burden on El forever

And be a burden on your mom forever

And your friends

And Anne

And everyone around you

Everyone

The whole party

You aren’t a dungeon master

You’re a deadweight

Just a corpse that they drag with them through everything and have to keep track of as everything goes to shit around you

Worst possible thing to have, really, when everything is falling apart, like it doubtlessly will again

And God forbid something happens again

It doesn’t seem to have this year yet but you never fucking know

Things could come back in the future

And then what would you be?

Deadweight

You’re a deadweight

Useless, awful

Awful deadweight

Worthless

Useless

Terrible

Awful

Piece of shit

Piece of shit

Piece of shit

Burden

Burden

Burden

Burden

Burden on everyone around you

No one needs you

No one wants you

That’s why you’re alone

Not because you isolated yourself

But because they’re all relieved you’re not with them

Everyone, relieved

Even El

El must also be relieved

She loves you but eventually she’s going to realize that’s a mistake

That her love was a mistake

That you’re a mistake

That you are the biggest mistake

That you’ve always been a mistake

And that she could just have so much better of a life without you

She will have a better life without you

Everyone could have a better life without you

You could be better without you.

Everything has been ringing, but the ringing stops, snaps back into place.

You get up, walk to your backpack, and pull out a piece of paper. You write on it, though your hand is shaking madly – so madly you feel like the words won’t actually be able to be read, I’M SORRY.

It’s all you can really say.

What more is there?

You put the piece of paper down next to you and lie down on your floor.

You take a deep breath.

And another.

And another.

And another.

You think of El's face.

How beautiful she looked at the Snow Ball.

Or when you first saw her again.

And how she made your heart flip in your chest.

She’s too good for you.

Much, much, much too good.

And you’re sorry you ever found her.

You’re sorry you’re the one she latched herself to.

You’re sorry.

You’re sorry.

You’re sorry.

You’re sorry.

You take out your razor and do the deed, even though it stings, even though it hurts.

You put down the razor and don’t look at the blood. You don’t look at it at all.

You just think of El's face.

You just think of her smiling.

Kissing her.

Dancing with her.

Waking up next to her and seeing her and smiling at her.

You just want the last thing you think about to be her.

That’s your final wish.

And it’s the last thing you think of as you fade into blackness.

November 28, 1975

“El, come on, eat your food.”

You shake your head, frowning down at the plate.

Hopper groans and holds his face in his hands.

“Have you eaten at all the past few days, sweetie?” Mrs. Byers asks, looking at you across the table.

“Some,” you mutter.

“You can’t do anything to help Marty right now, he’s at his family’s thanksgiving,” Will whispers.

“Do you want me to go and call Anne? She gave me the number of where they’d all be,” Joseph offers.

“No…” you mumble.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted her to have a normal Thanksgiving,” Hopper groans, “I didn’t mean to ruin all of yours –“

“No, no, it’s fine Hop,” Mrs. Byers mutters, “El, what can we do to help? You have to talk to us.”

“I’m just… worried,” you whisper.

“We all are,” Mrs. Byers nods.

“Divorce is a tough thing to get through,” Jonathan agrees.

“For everyone,” Hopper reassures.

You swallow, “I think… I think it’s more than that. He hasn’t… he told me he hasn’t left his bed for a few days, not more than… than he needs to.”

“That is worrisome,” Mrs. Byers sighs.

“I… should… um…”

“I’ll call Anne and see if he’s at Thanksgiving, okay?” Joseph asks.

“Can’t you visit him?” Will asks.

“I don’t think I can right now,” you mumble, “I’m too… upset.”

Will nods and pats you on the shoulder.

“Hey Anne, just wondering about Marty – oh – oh I see – is he at… yeah, okay. I think El wants to – yeah it’s a good idea. Okay. Thanks. Bye.”

Joseph hangs up and peers around the corner at you all.

“Apparently he didn’t go with them all. He’s back at the house,” Joseph explains.

“Can I go get him?” you ask quietly.

“Yeah, kid, I’ll drive you over there,” Hopper says. You get up and go with him to the car, just staring out the window.

“Kid, I know you’re worried, but you can’t… you can’t put this all on yourself.”

“Why not?” you ask quietly.

“Because you’re a kid,” Hopper whispers, his voice hoarse, “And… and you have your own troubles.”

You nod, and continue to stare out the window.

You pull up to the house and run up to knock on the door. You knock on it multiple times, but no one comes to it.

“Marty?” you shout.

There’s no answer.

Hopper frowns.

“Kid? It’s us, we just want to see you,” Hopper shouts.

Still no answer.

You unlock the door with your mind, and swing it open.

“El…” Hopper sighs. You don’t listen to him, you just run inside and run to his room.

And you scream.

He’s passed out – you hope he’s passed out –

So much blood –

So much blood –

So much blood –

So much –

“Fuck,” Hopper shouts.

You dive to his side and start sobbing, trying to stop the long slits in his arms from bleeding anymore.

“Kid, Kid –“

You hold onto his arms and feel blood all over your hands and you can’t stop sobbing and you can’t see anymore because your eyes are clouded with tears and –

“EL, MOVE.”

You’re being shoved aside and you scream, grabbing hold of something – a piece of paper – and you try to wipe the tears away from your eyes but you just get Marty's blood all over you instead, but you don’t care, and you can’t stop screaming –

“Okay he’s still alive. El I need you to move out of the way.”

You roll over and keep screaming, burying your face in the carpet and holding yourself tightly.

“Yeah, yeah it’s me, I know it’s thanksgiving shut the HELL UP. We have a suicide attempt at 723 East Wilmet –“

You keep screaming and you reach out for Marty's shoulders, and you still can’t really see so you reach blindly, and you shake him and he’s limp –

“MARTY –“

“Yes, RIGHT AWAY –“

“MARTY –“

“Okay, thank you. Shit.”

“MARTY –“

“El, El calm down –“

“MARTY –“

You feel yourself being picked up and you scream, you hit Hopper, you hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him and you hit him as he drags you away and you start to hear sirens outside.

“I’ve got to call Joyce to get Joseph to call –“

“LET ME GO – MARTY –“

“El, please –“

“MARTY, MARTY, MARTY –“

“EL”

You keep scream and screaming as you hear people running into the house and you can hear machines and things being moved around and you scream –

“El, El, breathe –“

“Sir, does your daughter require –“

“Get the damn blood off of her!”

“Yes, yes sir –“

You’re being taken by another person and you scream even more, flailing around and you scream so loudly and –

Crash –

“What the hell?”

“Oh shit,” Hopper shouts.

“Sir we have half of our machines broken –“

“Just get him inside the ambulance and start the transfusion immediately –“

“Chief, please move out of the way –“

Hopper pulls you from whoever was holding you and drags you over to another spot, and you keep screaming, and you can’t think anymore –

“El, El, please, please breathe, please calm down –“

“Miss, they’ve got him, he’s going to be okay.”

You just scream and cry in response and curl up, holding your self into a ball.

“We’ll take her too –“

“I’ll drive her myself.”

“Yes, sir.”

You feel yourself being moved and put into a car seat and you just keep sobbing.

“El, please use your shirt to wipe your face.”

You weakly reach to do that, pulling your shirt up to wipe everything down. Hopper doesn’t make a comment about it, just drives behind the ambulance.

You blink and you can see again. You look and see the ambulance, with the flashing lights and the blaring sirens, driving quickly through Grand Rapids.

You sniffle, but you’re out of tears now.

“H… Hopper?”

“Yeah, kid?” Hopper asks quietly.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“You heard the paramedic.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I hope so,” Hopper answers quietly.

You start crying even more, and you place your head in your hands again.

“El –“

“He lied to me.”

“He, what?”

“He said I wouldn’t lose him.”

“Well, you haven’t.”

“But he still tried.”

Hopper sighs.

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“But friends don’t lie.”

“I don’t think he was lying.”

“But –“

“I think he didn’t think he’d be capable of this. I think he believed what he was saying. And right now he’s going to need you, kid. He’s going to need you to help himself get better.”

You nod, tears still streaming from your eyes.

Your head hurts.

“But kid, make me a promise, okay?”

“What?”

“Just. Don’t let yourself. Don’t… don’t sacrifice your own health, okay? Don’t ignore your own problems to help him. You have issues, too, and I don’t want you to get to where he is.”

You nod quietly.

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, El.”

The car pulls up to the Hospital and you jump out of it, running after Hopper as he goes up to a big place marked EMERGENCY.

“Yes, we were following the ambulance – kid attempted suicide – name is Marty Wheeler –“

“Yes Chief, can you enter some of his information –“

“I’ll write in what I can. Can the kid see him?”

“I’m sorry, but no, they’re treating him now.”

“Okay.”

You sit down in a chair and hold your face in your hands, crying heavily into them, trying to breathe and finding yourself not doing so properly.

“Sweetie?”

You look up to see a woman in pink clothing looking down at you.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Redfield. Do you need anything?”

You just sniffle.

“Yeah, her boyfriend’s in there, she’s shaken up,” Hopper mutters quietly.

“Oh no!” the nurse says, “Here, one moment. I’ll go get you a blanket.”

You frown.

You’re not cold.

But she brings over the blanket and drapes it over your shoulders.

The weight of it is comforting.

You breathe slowly, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out.

“El?”

You look up at Hopper.

Actually look at him.

His face is as pale as snow and he looks like he’s going to throw up.

“I’m going to go make a couple of calls. I need to get in touch with his mother, and of course Joyce, and I want to call the doc.”

“Doctor… Owens?”

“Yeah. I don’t want Marty staying with just any quack.”

You frown, “But his mom –“

“It might be time to tell his mom everything that happened. That’s not the point. Are you going to be okay here?”

You nod mutely.

“Alright. Just stay calm, the nurses will tell you what they can.”

You nod again and he goes off to a payphone in the corner.

You pull the wadded up piece of paper from your hands. It’s covered in blood. Your hands are covered in blood. Your arms and shirt and probably still your face are all –

Blood –

So much blood –

You open it up and read in shaky letters I’M SORRY.

You start sobbing again, holding your face in your hands and just crying and crying and crying and crying –

You need to see Marty.

You need to see Marty right now.

You get up and wipe off your eyes, wandering up to the desk. The woman looks at you sadly.

“Hello El.”

You sniffle, “Can I please –“

“I’m sorry, you can’t.”

You glare at her, “Please.”

“It’s not allowed, kid.”

You walk back, wrapping your arms tightly across your chest as you stumble into a seat.

You see doctors and other people running in and out of two double doors.

You look back over and see that Hopper is still on the phone.

You look over at the receptionist office and flick your head, and a bunch of papers come tumbling out of cabinets.

“Oh, geez –“ the woman says, and you immediately scurry over to the doors, opening them and running through before anyone can see.

You then crouch against the wall and close your eyes, trying to focus even though your mind is spinning –

Spinning –

Spinning –

But you only have one thought.

You only have one person you need to see.

Marty.

You find him.

You get up and you run through all the rooms until you find the one you need, and you slip inside.

There are a lot of doctors, and they are all moving quickly around Marty. Some are working on his arms, others are finagling with blood that they’re putting into him, and others are doing other things that you don’t understand.

You crouch behind a bench and wait, breathing quietly.

“BP seems stable –“

“Almost finished here –“

“Someone should go out and tell the family what’s going on.”

“Family isn’t here yet I think.”

“Who called him in, then?”

“The Chief.”

“Goodness.”

“I need to go and get – hey!”

You look up to see a doctor staring down at you.

“What are you doing in here?”

“I want to see Marty,” you mutter angrily.

“The hell, kid, who let you in here –“

“Myself.”

“Jesus we must have forgotten to lock the door.”

“Someone escort her out.”

“No!” you scream, glaring, “No.”

“You can’t be in here, kid –“

“No!” you scream again, and you run past them all to go to Marty. He’s still passed out, but he has more color in his cheeks and his arms aren’t bleeding anymore.

“Where is she –“

“Right here, Chief –“

“NO!” you scream at Hop, but you’re being picked up anyway, “NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO, NO –“

“El, calm down!”

“NO!” you scream again, and you keep screaming it until you’re being carried outside, and suddenly you’re on a bench.

You feel Hopper pulling your face into your chest as you just keep whimpering No, No, No, No, until your throat is too dry to talk any further.

November 29, 1975

Marty finally wakes up the next day.

You aren’t at the Hospital when it happens. They eventually kick out non-family visitors and you aren’t family.

You hate that because it’s wrong but they won’t listen.

But Hop drives you over quickly, not really saying anything as he pulls up to the Hospital. You just run inside, and wait impatiently until you finally reach the room.

“Okay, just, try to be calm. He’s recovering,” Hopper mutters. You nod as the door opens and you run inside.

His whole family is there, and he’s lying in a bed. He looks tired and weak and pale, but he’s alive, his eyes are open, he’s breathing, and he looks at you, and he looks so upset your heart breaks for the millionth time.

You rush over to him and throw your arms around him, sobbing into shoulder harder than you’ve sobbed before.

“El, let him breathe,” Hopper mutters.

“No, it’s alright,” Karen sighs.

You pull away and wipe off your eyes, sniffling heavily and trying to not cry anymore. Marty looks at you and he’s crying too, not saying anything yet.

“Thanks for coming so quickly,” Anne mutters near you. You nod.

“Um, I know you probably want to stay here, mom, but maybe we should give them a minute alone,” she continues. Mrs. Wheeler nods and everyone leaves the room, except Marty, who is still looking at you like that.

“Marty,” you whisper, and it’s all you can say.

You rush forward and hold him again, and he wraps his arms around you, and you cry into his shoulder and just stay here, sobbing, unable to really get yourself to stop.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Please never say that again,” you mumble.

“What?”

You pull out, shaking, the piece of paper from your pocket, covered in blood and tears. You flatten it out and show it to him, more tears leaking from your eyes.

“Oh,” Marty whispers.

“Please, please, please stop saying that.”

“What do I say instead?”

“Anything else.”

“Okay.”

You take a deep breath and start pacing the room, holding you head in your hands. Marty watches you, still with that facial expression, still looking like death.

Well.

That makes sense.

“Say something,” he begs quietly.

You turn to look at him.

“Why didn’t you call me first?”

“I don’t know,” he mumbles, “I… I was caught.”

“Caught?”

“My thoughts wouldn’t stop spiraling. Ever since… ever since they decided to get divorced. They keep spiraling and I blame myself and I’m. I’m. I couldn’t escape. I couldn’t think clearly. I couldn’t get myself to stop.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“And I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“A FAVOR?”

“I see that I was wrong,” he mumbles.

You take a deep breath.

“Why did you think you were… why?”

“Because I think I’m a burden.”

You rush over to him and hold his face in your hands, looking at him and trying to not cry.

“You’re not a burden, Marty. You’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“I’m s-… okay.”

“Please believe me.”

“I do.”

“Thank you.”

You’re still holding his face and you’re still looking at him and you’re still trying really really really hard to not cry anymore but you know you’re not going to be able to hold it in and you just –

You start sobbing, and Marty holds you tightly, and you just rest on him for a long while, wishing that you never had to let go.

December 4, 1975

“Hey Hopper!”

You turn around, slowly, glaring at the boy as he walks up you. You are too tired for this and you don’t know why Hopper is making you go to school, except for that you’ve already missed two days this week and you know full well that you will be in trouble if you miss any more, really.

But you’re too tired to be here.

You’re too tired to be much of anywhere, really.

“What do you want?” you snap.

“How’s your crazy boyfriend?”

“Alive,” you mutter.

“I heard he almost wasn’t.”

“Shut up.”

“He’s insane, you know that right?”

“Shut up.”

“Real loony!”

“Shut up shut up shut up shut up!”

“Make me!”

You shove him, but physically you are quite weak, so he laughs and he shoves you back. You fall to the ground and hit your head on a locker and it hurts, a lot, but you glare at him and he trips.

“Ahh!”

He looks at you with wide eyes.

“How’d you –“

“Leave me the hell alone,” you hiss, and you get up and start running through the hallways.

And you bump right into a teacher.

“Miss Hopper.”

You look up and grimace, gulping a little bit.

“Fighting in the hallways again?” the teacher asks. You nod mutely.

“Come on. We’ll have to talk to the Principal about this.”

You nod and follow, just wishing things could be simple for maybe five seconds of your entire life.

You get detention, and you aren’t really surprised about this anymore, so you serve it without really complaining that much.

You’re just… so tired.

So, so, so tired.

“El,” Hopper says angrily when you get into the car with him afterwards.

“Yes,” you grunt angrily.

“What have we talked about.”

“No using my powers at school.”

“Exactly,” he says, letting out a few coughs, “Look, I get that things are rough right now –“

“Rough?”

“Okay, fine, they’re horrible –“

“They’re more than horrible. My boyfriend tried to kill himself and I got covered in his blood trying to save him.”

“But he’s alive.”

You grunt in anger.

“And he’s with Dr. Owens.”

You grunt again.

“And Dr. Owens is already starting to help him.”

You let out a third grunt.

“And Karen knows… everything now.”

You sigh.

“So now he’ll have an adult at home to help him.”

You just hold your face in your hands.

“Everything is overwhelming and awful.”

“I know, kid.”

You continue to drive in silence for a long time.

“I just… know you haven’t been able to get that whole behavioral problem thing under control since we last talked.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“And now I feel like it’s only going to get worse.”

“Yup.”

“I just… be careful. Try to not use your powers.”

“I’ll try,” you mumble.

“Eventually someone’s going to figure it out.”

“Yeah.”

“And then where will we all be?”

“In trouble.”

“Exactly.”

You just keep staring out the window, not even knowing what to think about.

December 8, 1975

“How’s Marty doing?”

“Okay.”

Will looks worried, sitting with you as you listen to the Sex Pistols, the loud music reverberating through you and helping you to just, briefly, forget who you are and what you’re doing and everything that’s been happening to you.

You let out a longer sigh.

“I mean, I think Dr. Owens is helping.”

“But it hasn’t been that long.”

“Exactly.”

Will frowns and lies back on his bed, looking up at the ceiling.

“What is it?” you ask.

Will frowns more, “I just remember… the past year for me, you know? Two years, really.”

“Yeah…”

“Everything’s been rough. Really rough. And like, it’s not just the shadow monster or my connection to the upside down. That’s terrible, but if it were just that I’d be able to get over it faster.”

“It’s your memories,” you offer quietly.

“Exactly. I can’t stop remembering them, sometimes,” Will admits.

“Little things will just make you thing about stuff?”

“Exactly. And then I’ll get trapped into thinking about it for a while.”

You nod.

You know the feeling.

“But I’m glad I’ve been working on it. Talking to Dr. Owens has actually helped since, ya know, the gate was closed and my connection to the Upside Down broken. And Art Therapy was so good for me last summer. And I’m just glad everything’s back to normal… well…” he sighs, “Close to it.”

You nod again.

“I think I… need to work on all that.”

“Dealing with memories?”

“Yeah…”

“Have you talked to Dr. Owens about it?”

“Only a little bit.”

“How come?”

“I’m just… nervous about talking about it, I guess. And we mostly discuss my dyslexia and dealing with that for school.”

“Yeah, makes sense.”

You both sit and listen to the music together, bobbing your heads quietly.

“When are you going to see him again?”

“In a week,” you grumble, “Well, less. Next Saturday.”

“That’s nice though, right?”

“Yeah. I just want to see him more.”

“I know, but Dr. Owens must know what he’s doing, right?”

“I guess…”

“And we have school.”

You laugh before you can stop yourself.

“Right. School.”

Everything seems so stupid now.

With Marty…

And how you miss him, every day, without him in the halls with you…

“You’re not, like, giving up, are you?” Will asks worriedly.

“No,” you mumble, “I’m just… I dunno. It’s hard.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees.

“Thank you for listening to music with me though,” you whisper.

“Of course. Any time,” he smiles, and you go back to listening together, you just wishing you could disappear into the lyrics.

December 14, 1975

The lab is quiet, because it’s a Saturday.

It’s a different lab than the base, and there are a lot of different people here, including ones who have no idea who you are or what the Other Side is.

You walk quietly through the halls to the room where Marty is staying, knocking and entering when you hear his voice.

“Ah, El! Good to see you,” Dr. Owens greets.

“Hi,” you mumble quietly.

“I’ll just pack up my things here and you and Marty can chat. I forgot visiting hours were starting. Do you both need anything?” Dr. Owens asks.

“Um… how long can she stay today?” Marty mutters.

“You know what, why doesn’t she stay until the evening? Then you can use the Menorah and light the last candle together.”

“Thanks,” Marty says, smiling for real, and Dr. Owens nods before leaving. You walk over to sit next to him on his bed.

“They let you have a Menorah in here?” you ask him softly.

“An electric one, and I have to use it supervised. But I feel like you’ll count as supervision, especially for Dr. Owens,” Marty smiles weakly.

You lean over and kiss him on the cheek, “How is it going?”

“Better,” Marty says, “Every day is just a little better.”

“That’s all we can hope for.”

Marty nods.

“The divorce is moving forward.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to hear about that at all?”

“I’m not, but I asked anyway, and Anne told me.”

“Oh.”

“I’m glad.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. My dad is a dick who made me hate myself.”

You nod.

“I’m not saying this is all his fault, because… because I don’t want to pretend like my mind isn’t… like my mind is screwed up. But… but he didn’t make it easier.”

“No, he didn’t,” you agree.

“Nothing made it easier,” Marty mumbles.

You nod with him, “Don’t think about that right now.”

“I have to think about it occasionally.”

“Okay…”

“I mean, like… one of the things Dr. Owens talked to me about was avoidance behavior. He says that… that people’s feelings should be respected, and that, like, if someone isn’t ready to discuss something yet they shouldn’t be made to. But you also shouldn’t avoid discussing something forever, because that’s unhealthy. So I was avoiding discussing how awful I felt, because I knew starting school was stressful for you, and I didn’t want to make anyone worried about me. I just pretended I was more fine than I was.”

You nod silently.

“And that just made me bottle it all up and then I just… with the failing and the divorce… it all exploded, you know?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

“And… can I just say one thing?” he whispers quietly.

“Okay…”

“I’d like to apologize.”

“Marty –“

“No, I’m not going to use the s-word. I’m trying to be… I need to say it. But I’m not being… I’m not hating myself and that’s making me say it, okay? I promise.”

You nod weakly.

“I am apologizing for not telling you how bad I was. You knew I was hurting myself, and that I was upset, but you didn’t know the extent, or how much I hated myself, or anything like that. And that wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I ended up hurting you more by not being open with you. And I hope you can forgive me,” Marty says softly.

“Mike, I already have.”

Marty looks at you sadly, “I know.”

You sit in silence together, you just leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder. He rests his head on top of yours and you sit there like that in silence for a long while, breathing and taking in each other.

“Marty?”

“Yeah?”

“Promise me you’ll talk to me if this happens again.”

“I promise.”

“I don’t want any more secrets.”

“We can’t have no secrets.”

“I know, just… I want to minimize them.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

“Thank you,” you smile weakly. He looks over at you and leans in to kiss you softly, and you sigh into his mouth happily, and you keep kissing him, the two of you moving your lips slowly against each other as you sit on the bed together. He wraps his arms around you and you wrap yours around him, pulling yourself as close together as you can. He makes another one of those sounds that make your heart pound extra super fast, and you feel a little weak everywhere as a result.

He pulls away from you and rests his forehead on yours, his eyes closed. You close yours too, and just rest there with him, enjoying the two of you breathing in slow unison.

“El?”

“Yeah, Marty?”

“I love you.”

You smile.

“I love you too.”

He leans in and kisses you again, and you kiss him back, and you’re feeling happy again for the first time since long before he even tried to kill himself.

It’s so nice it makes you feel warm all over.

The good kind of warm, the kind of warm that makes you feel like maybe you can get through all of this.

“Marty?” you whisper softly.

“Yeah?”

“We’re still married, right?”

He bursts out laughing, and the sound gives you even more of that warm feeling.

“Yeah, of course. We never stopped.”

“Just making sure.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t talked about it since it happened.”

“Well, we are.”

He looks at you, blushing furiously and smiling a little bit, “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah?”

He swallows, “I’ve… I’ve gotten close to that dark place a lot.”

“I figured.”

“I usually can pull myself back from it.”

“Make sense.”

“You… you want to know what has helped a lot?”

“What?”

“You.”

“Me? But you’re always worried about me –“

“Yeah, ‘cause I love you.”

You smile a little.

“But you also… I dunno. I was already in a very dark place when we met and everything. Will disappearing didn’t help, like, at all. But meeting you… seeing how good of a person you are despite everything that happened to you… how curious, and funny, and sweet, and smart you are… you’re like a light in the darkness, you know?”

You smile at him weakly, blushing furiously.

“And I’m s – I wish I hadn’t forgotten that so quickly on Thanksgiving.”

“It’s okay, Marty,” you murmur, “We all have those moments.”

Marty smiles back a little bit and sighs, “Yeah. I just don’t want to have one again.”

“I’m glad.”

“I mean it. I don’t want to die.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you or Mom or Anne or Holly or Zayde or Bubbe or Will or Dustin or Lucas or Max or Steve or Hopper or Mrs. Byers or Joseph again. I really really don’t.”

“Do you and Dr. Owens talk about how you’ll stop yourself if you get there again?”

“Yeah. We’ve mostly been unpacking how I got to that point and how I can talk myself out of it, or things I can do to get someone else to help me, if I ever get there again.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m just… tired of being stuck here,” he admits.

“I’m tired of you being stuck here, too. When will you get out?”

“When he thinks I can be trusted to not hurt myself again. And that means at all. I’m not… allowed to cut myself like normal anymore either.”

“Oh. That’s good.”

“Yeah. I’m sure I’ll slip up, but I have to be harder on myself if I do. I was too lenient before.”

“I was too.”

“Maybe a little. But we’re fourteen and you don’t want to make me upset. No one can blame you if you don’t want to yell at me.”

You smile weakly, “Thanks.”

“And it shouldn’t be on you to get me to stop this. It’s my life and my body. I have to… I have to be hard on myself.”

“Well I’ll still try to help.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, smiling weakly at you.

“How’s your mom doing?”

“Waiting to talk about everything until I’m better.”

“Makes sense.”

“She’s still nice to you, right?”

“Yeah, very.”

“Good.”

You sit there and talk for a long while more, and kiss for even more, too.

You don’t talk about how you have nightmares about finding him covered in his own blood.

Or about not being able to stay with him as the doctors all took him away.

Or about reading the ‘I’M SORRY’ on a piece of paper and feeling like the words clawed out your heart from your chest.

He doesn’t need to know any of that.

You don’t want to make him worse.

Eventually Dr. Owens comes in with an electric Menorah, and Marty lights it with you and mumbles blessings softly under his breath. You stand with him, looking at the lights as the almost moonless night sky hangs above you, dark and infinite.

“That’s what this holiday’s all about, you know,” Marty murmurs softly.

“About… what?”

“Light. In the darkness. It’s called the Festival of Lights.”

“Oh,” you smile. You like that.

“And it’s also about not assimilating but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

You laugh a little.

“But yeah. Light in darkness,” Marty pauses, “I’m glad… to be getting a little light.”

You squeeze his hand tightly, just staring at the lights together.

All you needed was just a little bit of light.

January 4, 1976

You like stepping outside into the sun.

Yeah, it’s cold outside, and you haven’t left the building for over a month.

But you’re glad to be outside again.

“Now okay, you have my phone number to call if you need me, right?” Dr. Owens asks as he leads you outside.

“Yes,” you nod quietly, looking around and finding your Mom standing by the car.

“Alright. We’ll see each other again next week for our first appointment.”

“Yes Doctor Owens.”

“And please don’t hesitate to reach out for help if you find yourself getting overwhelmed- “

“Yes, Doctor Owens,” you repeat, feeling antsy.

You just want to go home now.

“Alright, well good luck.”

You nod at him, before scurrying over to Mom.

“Ready to go?” she asks. You nod and get into the car, breathing fresh air and looking out the window as the trees and sky pass by.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you admit quietly.

“That’s good.”

More silence.

“I want to ask you just one question. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, Mom, sure.”

“Were you ever going to tell me about the Other Side?”

You sigh heavily.

“Probably not.”

“Alright. That’s all for now.”

“Will we talk more about this later?”

“When you’re ready.”

You nod, and keep staring out the window as you pull up to Bubbe and Zayde’s. With all of the chaos of the divorce and you being committed, she hadn’t tried to look for her own house yet.

“Alright, come on. Let’s get inside,” Mom insists. You nod again and get out of the car, bringing your bag with you as you walk up into the house.

Everything is dark, so you reach to turn on the lights.

“SURPRISE!”

You jump in shock as everyone jumps out from behind chairs, from El and Anne to Max and Lucas and Joseph and everyone. El runs up to you and hugs you tightly, making your heart leap.

“What… is all this?” you ask, smiling weakly as El pulls back from you slowly, looking up at you and smiling weakly back.

“Your welcome home party, zeisele,” Bubbe murmurs, walking forward and pulling you into a long hug. You hug her back tightly as everyone starts crowding around you and chatting, looking at you with those faces that mean they’re trying to hide their worry.

“Okay Marty now that you’re out we need you to settle a dispute for us,” Dustin says eagerly, running up to you and grinning. Lucas follows him, rolling his eyes.

“Really, this is the first thing you –“

“Shush let me live. So we’re debating what we think would make a good Star Wars prequel.” Dustin continues, “I say it’s finding out where Luke and Leia come from and how Anakin turned into Darth Vader –“

“Whereas I say that it’s just the clone wars in general and that it shouldn’t focus on a Skywalker again,” Lucas grunts.

You grin a little at them.

You’re glad that they’re just treating you normally right away.

“Um… I dunno. I think the two would probably factor into each other a lot?” you say.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” Jane mutters.

“But the movies would have to focus on one or the other – clone wars or Anakin’s life – and I would prefer it just focus on the universe of the Republic!” Lucas shouts.

“And I want to know how Obi-Wan’s apprentice ended up Darth freaking Vader!” Dustin responds.

“I mean it’s not like these movies would be made anyway,” Max says dismissively.

“You shut your mouth,” Dustin says, pointing at her.

“Bite me,” Max sticks her tongue out at him.

“Okay let’s stop arguing about this,” Will says, walking up to you all, “Let’s play Dungeons and Dragons!”

“I dunno if I have it in me to be the dungeon master, though,” you admit.

“That’s fine! Someone else can do it –“

“Has anyone else planned any campaigns, though?” Lucas asks with an eye roll.

“No,” Dustin mutters.

“It’s alright, I don’t know if I’m in the mood to play right now,” you mumble.

“What are you in the mood for?” Jane asks.

“Not sure,” you sigh.

“Do you want to talk?” Nancy asks, walking forward to you. She’d visited you as much as she could over the past month, but you knew that she was having a rough time of it too. She was going through the same things you were; she was just able to keep herself slightly more together.

“About what?” you ask quietly.

“Anything,” she says, “To anyone. We just wanted you to remember that we’re all here for you, and we love you, and we’re glad you’re back. If you’re overwhelmed, people can leave.”

You frown.

“I guess… I am a little overwhelmed. But I don’t… I don’t want anyone to leave, you know? I think I just… want everyone to act normally. And just… be here.”

“Okay,” Nancy smiles and hugs you, “We can do that.”

Dustin and Lucas go back to arguing about Star Wars while Max grabs Jane and leads her over to the kitchen table, the two of them immediately starting an arm wrestling match. Will and Jonathan are talking quietly in a corner and Steve is discussing work with Hopper.

You turn to your Mom, Zayde, and Bubbe.

“Um… can we all talk? Somewhere?” you ask them softly.

“Only if you’re up to it, sweetheart,” Mom says.

“I think I am. At the very least, I’d feel weird… not talking about it,” you say, “At least, going on like this without talking about it.”

“Alright,” Zayde nods, and you all go retreat into your room, sitting down together. Bubbe sits with you on your bed while Zayde and Mom sit on Nancy’s.

“Okay,” you whisper, “What do you know?”

“Everything,” Mom admits.

“At least, Chief Hopper says its everything,” Zayde grumbles.

“David…” Bubbe sighs.

“Sorry, Sisel, but he should have told us this all last year,” Zayde mutters.

“I know, but not in front of Mike.”

“No, in front of me,” you mutter.

“What –“

“I need… I don’t know. I can’t have any surprises, okay?” you mutter, “Not about important things.”

“Alright, Michael, if you’re sure,” Mom sighs.

“Fine. I understand that there was government intimidation involved in the whole affair, but honestly Hopper should have told your mother the truth last year,” Zayde says simply.

“Alright,” you mutter.

“But that’s not your fault,” Mom says quietly.

“It’s really not, zeisele,” Bubbe reassures.

You nod and sit back, watching them all.

“That being said,” Zayde pauses, “We’re very proud of you.”

“You’re… what?”

“You’ve been having a tough time and dealing with things most grown ups couldn’t handle,” Mom says.

“A real nightmare scenario,” Zayde agrees.

“But you’ve been very brave and worked hard to make things right. Not just for the town, not just for Will, not just for Jane, but for yourself. And how hard you’ve worked with Dr. Owens is proof of that,” Bubbe murmurs.

“Thank you,” you whisper, “I’m… sorry I hid everything from you.”

“We forgive you Michael,” Mom says, “Just… learn your lesson for next time, alright?”

“Yes,” Zayde agrees, “If you find yourself slipping into that place again, please, please let one of us know.”

“Your Zayde and I have had our share of bad times in the head. Something like the shoah… well. You know,” Bubbe murmurs, “But we’ve gotten through the dark moments by talking to each other and being open about how we feel, and what we’re going through.”

“And that means everything we go through,” Zayde says, “And the same should go for you.”

“And not just Jane. She’s a wonderful girl and we’re happy you’ve found each other,” Mom says, looking at you seriously, “But she has her own issues she has to work out. A long dark past and… the same years as you. You need to talk to an adult, at least… where you’re both at now.”

“Okay,” you agree softly, “Okay.”

“It’ll be hard, so you get a learning curve. We promise,” Mom reassures.

“Thanks,” you smile weakly.

Zayde pats you on the shoulder, “How are you feeling now?”

“Well, better than before,” you say, “But… overwhelmed, still. And tired. And wishing… things were different.”

“There’s no way to change the past,” Bubbe murmurs, shaking her head, “Only shaping the future.”

Your head hurts, but not because you’re confused or anything like that. It just… hurts.

“And you have to be in charge of your own future. I don’t mean that in a scary way, just a… you have control of it. And you need to remember that when everything seems out of your control,” Zayde continues.

“You need to try to talk to her, I don’t think we have any other choice,” Bubbe shouts.

“What – are you talking about, Bubbe?” you ask her in confusion. She tilts her head.

“I didn’t say anything, zeisele,” Bubbe murmurs.

“No, but you shouted –“

“Look, kid, we know you’re scared, but we have to try it,” Hopper roars, “Or else we could lose her forever –“

“Wait, Hopper?” you ask, whirling around.

“Hopper’s outside, Mike,” Mom says, reaching out for me, “What’s wrong.”

“I, um…”

It was like those flashbacks you had.

Except these weren’t memories.

You’d never had this conversation before –

“Okay,” you feel yourself say, “I’ll do it.”

“Do what, Mike?” Bubbe asks.

“Mike you’re scaring us,” Zayde interjects.

“Thank you,” Joyce whispers, “We’re going to be with you the whole way.”

“And everyone believes in you –“ Hopper continues.

“Mrs. Byers?” you shout.

“She’s not here, Mike, Mike what’s going on –“ Mom demands.

“His nose is bleeding, look –“

“He keeps spacing out –“

You shake your head madly and hold it in your hands. You breathe in deeply for a long time, and just focus on your feet.

“Mike?”

“I’m okay,” you whisper.

“What was all that?”

“I don’t know.”

You look up to see them all looking at each other in worry. You wipe off your nose, which tickles from the blood.

“Um. I’ve been having flashbacks from like, all the bad stuff that’s happened. It’s that, I think.”

Zayde nods, and everyone around you breathes with relief.

“You know, I couldn’t stop having flashbacks for years after the shoah,” Zayde says, “And I still have them sometimes.”

“Me too,” Bubbe agrees, “It’s… well, it’s a trauma.”

“The worst trauma.”

“It’s perfectly natural to have flashbacks,” Mom reassures.

“Sorry, I don’t know what was happening. And what the bloody nose is,” you mumble.

“You used to get them as a kid,” Mom says, “Remember? When the air was dry. I guess today is just a dry day.”

“Yeah, I remember. Makes sense,” you nod.

Your head is still spinning.

And you feel a little nauseous.

It’s one thing to have a flashback

But you literally have never had that conversation in your life.

“I don’t feel good,” you whisper, “I need… to lie down.”

“This is all very overwhelming,” Bubbe murmurs, helping you to lie down on your bed as all three of them get up.

“Yes, the party wasn’t a good idea,” Mom sighs, “I knew I shouldn’t have let them go ahead with it.”

“Ah well. Do you want us to send them all home?” Zayde asks.

“Um… no. I’ll just lie down for a bit,” you reassure.

It doesn’t help that you’re back where it all happened.

“Can… Jane come here?” you ask.

Mom sighs.

“I don’t know, sweetheart…”

“They’re good kids,” Bubbe says, emphasizing the word, “Karen, it’s okay. And we’ll all be outside.”

“Yeah, alright. We’ll send her over,” Mom says. You nod and stare up at the ceiling, trying to not feel sick.

“Mike?”

You look up at Jane, smiling weakly at her as she walks over to the bed. She looks hesitantly around the room.

“What’s wrong?” you ask softly.

“Just… um… I don’t like being in here,” she whispers. She has tears in her eyes.

“Oh,” you realize, “Oh. Shit. You can go. I made a mistake.”

“No –“

“Jane, please,” you beg, sitting up, but immediately feeling woozy.

It doesn’t help that you can see badly faded bloodstains in the carpet.

“I… might vomit,” you whisper.

Jane runs to you and helps you up, leading you out of the room and through the hallway. You go to the bathroom together, without anyone paying much attention to you, as you slip inside and close the door.

You scramble to the toilet and lift up the seat, just staring into the bowl.

“Mike?” Jane asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I don’t know what’s wrong I just –“

You can’t stop it, so you lean over and vomit. Jane dives forward and you can feel her hold your hair off the back of your neck.

“What – are you doing?” you gasp out.

“Seen it on TV.”

You laugh weakly.

“I’m not pregnant, Jane.”

“No,” she says, “But –“

“Thank you,” you murmur. You turn to look at her and she nods.

“What did you want to talk to me about?” she asks softly.

“I… um… how I was feeling overwhelmed and sick,” you mumble, “And how I had a really weird flashback again.”

“And that’s why you feel sick?” Jane frowns at you.

You nod.

“What was it a flashback to?”

“That’s the thing I don’t – I don’t – I don’t remember,” you mutter, “I literally don’t remember having this conversation. And… Bubbe and Mrs. Byers and Hopper were there. And we were in my room. My room here.”

“That’s… weird,” Jane frowns. You nod, opening your eyes wide.

“When would that have ever happened?”

“I’m… not sure, Mike,” Jane murmurs. You nod, holding your head in your hands.

“My head hurts…”

“Should I tell everyone to go?”

“No,” you mutter, “Just… stay here with me.”

“Yes,” she whispers, sitting next to you on the bathroom floor. She pulls you into her arms and holds you loosely, and you rest your head on her shoulder until the pounding finally passes.

January 14, 1976

“Well,” Anne says, putting the papers down and beaming, “I got into Indiana Bloomington!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Karen says, smiling wide across her face, “I’m so proud.”

“Good for you, Anne,” you say, grinning at her.

“And with Illinois at Urbana-Champaign and Purdue that’s the third acceptance. Just haven’t heard back from Ohio State or NYU yet,” Anne says, “And I won’t till March.”

“Have you made any decisions yet?” Zayde asks, smiling at her and leaning against a wall.

“Not yet, I want to hear back from everywhere,” Anne responds.

“Well, these are all lovely schools, zeisele,” Bubbe laughs, “You’d be lucky to go to any of these places.”

“I know. I just… don’t know what we can afford,” Anne frowns.

Mom sighs, “I’m worried about it, too. But we can definitely do Indiana Bloomington.”

“And that’s not a bad school,” Zayde reassures.

“No,” Anne agrees, “I think I’d like it there. And it’s not that far away… I mean, it’s in the southern part of the state so we’d have to drive a bit to get there, but at least I could come back quickly if something awful was happening.”

Mom sighs again, “Well, you still might be able to go somewhere else. I have to see about that job at the newspaper.”

“We can always pitch in –“

“Dad, you’re doing enough by letting us stay here with you. Please, don’t,” Mom mutters.

Zayde doesn’t say anything more, just shrugs and looks away.

“Have you thought about your major at all?” Bubbe asks, changing the subject and sitting down at the table.

“I’m not sure. Maybe biology?” Nancy pauses, “Maybe Literature?”

“Those are two ends of a scale,” you say, smiling a little.

“Ha ha,” Anne says, sticking out her tongue at you.

“Well I think either is a lovely idea,” Mom rolls her eyes at you, “You’d succeed at either.”

“And you have time to decide, you’re usually given freshman year and even most of sophomore to decide on your major,” Zayde agrees.

“Yeah, right now I’m just focusing on getting through my last year,” Anne says.

“Well let’s have a celebratory dinner!” Bubbe shouts, “Anne, I can make the matzo ball soup you like so much –“

“Oh, yes please,” Anne beams.

“Alright, come help me start it up in the kitchen, David –“

“Yes, let me just get my apron!”

“Must you wear that every time we cook together –“

“I’d wear it constantly if you’d let me.”

“Oy vey –“

You laugh a little, which makes your Mom smile at you. Anne beams at you too.

“Mommy! I need help with homework!” Holly shouts from her and Mom’s room.

“Coming,” Mom sighs, getting up and walking over. You look at Nancy and smile weakly.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Of course, Marty,” Anne says, frowning.

“I hope you go to Bloomington, or Purdue. So you’re still close,” you mumble.

“Don’t worry, Marty. I am seriously considering it,” Anne says.

“But – Jonathan – NYU –“

“If we don’t go to school in the same place, that’s okay, Marty,” Anne pauses, “I have lots of reasons for wanting to be close, not just you. And in the end, you’re not allowed to blame yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

You don’t want to be the reason she and Joseph break up, or… anything else.

You don’t want to be the reason she doesn’t follow her dreams at a different school somewhere else that was too far away for you to be happy with.

But they all told you to be honest.

They all told you to be open with how you feel.

So this is you.

Being open.

“I’m serious, Marty.”

“Okay,” you nod, smiling weakly. Anne gives you a hug from the side, and you both get up to help Zayde and Bubbe in the kitchen.

January 29, 1976

“Come on, let’s go!”

Dustin starts peddling down the street as fast as he can. Lucas shouts and takes off after him, also peddling quickly.

“This is ridiculous,” Max snorts, skating on her skateboard.

Will finally had a new bike as a Chanukah present, and he takes off after the rest of them.

You turn to El and grin at her, “Ready?”

She beams, “Ready.”

She hops behind you on the bike – though the two of you are much bigger than the last time you did this – and you start peddling as quickly as you can.

“Are you ready?” El murmurs.

“I’m ready,” you reassure.

“Alright,” El says, and you stop peddling as she spins the chain super fast, making the peddles and the wheels zoom as you hold out your legs to the side.

The bike rushes forward, and you both whoop together as you race down the street.

“Oh come on,” Lucas shouts as you approach the rest of them.

“Dude, this is so cheating!” Max agrees.

“I have to carry extra weight!” you respond, and El keeps everything moving forward quickly, and you both laugh together as you reach Dustin and Will up in the front.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Dustin shouts.

“No –“ Will calls, but El pushes you forward even more, and you keep zooming straight through until you reach the end of the street.

El and you cheer together as you get off the bike, El still holding onto your waist and making your heart pound a little bit.

“Okay, you two one hundred percent cheated,” Dustin shouts, wheeling up to you both and dropping his bike on the curb.

“Yeah,” Will agrees, “You can’t use psychic powers to win.”

“Yeah, but we had a late start, and I had more weight to carry,” you laugh.

“El weighs like five pounds, she doesn’t count,” Dustin snorts.

“I do not,” El shakes her head.

“Yeah, she has plenty of weight,” you agree.

“Okay, if she has plenty of weight, then I bet you can’t pick her up,” Dustin challenges.

“Can too!”

“Can not!”

“Can too!”

“Can not!”

“Can too!”

“How old are you two? Seven?” Max demands, rolling her eyes.

“There’s an obvious solution to this,” Lucas points out, “Marty's just gotta pick El up.”

El looks at you with wide eyes.

You roll yours, “Is that okay? It really doesn’t have to be.”

El frowns, “I dunno.”

“Then I won’t do it,” you nod.

“And we will never know,” Dustin grins.

“You’ll just have to take me at my word,” you snort.

“Oh bullshit,” Dustin rolls his eyes, “You can’t do it.”

“Can too!”

“Can not!”

“Can too!”

“Can not!”

“Oh my God,” Max groans.

“Alright, I’m going to just, you know, go to the arcade like a normal person,” Lucas snorts.

“Yeah I’m coming with you,” Max agrees. The two of them start going down the next street. Dustin goes after them, and Will follows soon too.

You turn to El, “Ready to go?”

She frowns, looking after the rest of them until they disappear out of sight. She then looks at you.

“You can try, if you want.”

“Wha –“

“To pick me up.”

“Oh – um – okay.”

You reach, awkwardly, your heart pounding in your throat, and you grab El from underneath her knees.

At least she’s wearing jeans so you feel less… awkward.

You hold her with your other arm around her back and then lift up, grunting.

She isn’t very light, but she’s not very heavy either. You lift her up and grunt in some pain, but she wraps her arms around your neck.

Your faces are very close together.

“I…. uh… um…” you stammer.

She smiles weakly at you, “Can too.”

You laugh a little, planting a small kiss on her nose, before letting her back down.

“Shall we catch up with them?”

“Yeah, but we can go slower,” El pauses, “I just want to ride with you.”

“Me too,” you agree, and you peddle through the town together, her resting her head on your back.

“Marty?” she murmurs quietly.

“Yeah, El?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You keep riding together.

“Remember when we met,” she whispers, “And we rode around like this everywhere?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, remembering and feeling your heart grow warmer.

“I was a lot quieter then,” she says.

“You’re still quiet,” you respond.

“Yeah, but not as much. I… I dunno. I have trouble talking, I guess,” El murmurs.

“Well, talking can be hard,” you agree.

You keep peddling, the two of you riding through the town.

“You didn’t sit as close to me back then,” you comment after a while.

“I wasn’t as used to touching people back then,” she mumbles.

Her voice sounds shaky.

“El? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she whispers.

You stop peddling, pulling over on the side of the road.

“El?”

“Nothing’s wrong, okay?” El mutters, “Please.”

“El, friends don’t lie. Especially girlfriends,” you whisper.

El looks at you for a long time, and you just look at each other on the side of the road.

“I… I don’t think I’m ready to talk about it,” El murmurs, “I don’t… I don’t really know what I’m feeling… right now.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“My mind’s been… all over the place? Since… everything happened,” El continues, “And I don’t… I don’t know what I’m feeling. Most of the time.”

“Okay,” you say again, “But… you shouldn’t keep it bottled up forever. I did that, and it was a mistake.”

“I know,” El agrees, “And I cross my heart… I won’t.”

“Okay,” you repeat a third time, “You say you weren’t used to touching people.”

She nods.

“Can I… ask you something?” you say, before you can stop yourself.

Be open.

Be open.

Be open.

Be open.

Be open.

Be open.

Be…

Open.

“Yes,” she says.

“Was it… okay… when I kissed you the first time?” you ask seriously, “I… I should have asked for permission. I think.”

She smiles, “Yeah, it was okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay…”

“Marty, I liked you too, even back then. And you made me happy. And it was a small kiss. A baby kiss.”

You laugh a little, “Yeah, I guess it was.”

“And if I didn’t want you to kiss me you would have known then.”

“Fair point.”

You both laugh together for a little while.

It’s nice to laugh with her.

It always is.

“Marty?”

“Yeah, El?”

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

You lean in and hug her, tightly and she hugs you back just as tightly.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.”

“Are you talking to people?”

“Yeah, you’re one of them,” you laugh in her ear.

She pulls back from you.

“Not just me. Our friends, and your Mom, and your grandparents, and Anne, and –“

“Yes, El. I promise. I’m talking to everyone. As much as I can,” you pause, “I can’t… say I don’t… still have bad feelings.”

She nods.

You swallow.

“But I’m fighting them better. I am. I promise.”

She leans up and kisses you softly, and you feel so nice and warm at that as it spreads from your lips to your toes and fingers. You pull her closer to you and she wraps her arms around you, the two of you holding on to each other tightly. You kiss her a little harder and she makes a soft sound, causing your heart to flip.

You pull back from her and rest your forehead on hers, the two of you staring at each other lovingly.

“We should head off,” El murmurs.

“Agreed,” you say, and you both get back on the bike and continue peddling away.

February 14, 1976

“Alright, so, what are you doing today with her?” Lucas asks.

He came over right away in the morning, pacing worriedly through your room as you frown at him.

“Lucas, you’re being –“

“Don’t say I’m being ridiculous. I am not being ridiculous right now.”

“Fine, stupid then.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t know ‘im.”

“I will punch you.”

“What is freaking you out so much?” you say, frowning.

“Last year Max and I weren’t ‘official’ or whatever you want to call it on Valentine’s Day, so we didn’t do anything for it because she didn’t want to – I dunno I guess she just doesn’t like the idea very much in general – and so this year we are official and I want to do something nice and fun with her but not too much pressure because she’s not a girly girl and she doesn’t want to do anything like normal girls do, and I figured, well, El is whatever the opposite of normal is, so maybe last year you guys did something and I could copy that –“

“Lucas, you are even stupider than I thought.”

“Shut up, man.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Lucas glares at you.

“I’m just asking what you did with El –“

“Right. So what do you and Max do on dates usually?”

“I dunno – we go play games at the arcade and then get a pizza! Or we go to a movie and split the popcorn –“

“Okay, so do that.”

“What?”

“If you want to make it special, maybe offer to pay for it all if you don’t already, or take her out for ice cream, or something else she’d like. But you don’t need to be… over the top about it, you know? Like going to a fancy restaurant, or buying her nice things, like that’s all great for other people, but I think Max would just like you both to have a nice night together.”

“Is that… what you did?”

“Well, El was still in hiding back then,” you smile a little.

It’s nice to remember.

Sometimes.

“So all we did was hang out at the house, and we watched TV together, and I had learned how to cook my mom’s spaghetti recipe, so I made that and she loved it, and we just spent time together. It was nice,” you explain.

“So… are you doing that again this year?” Lucas asks, frowning.

“No, this year she’s going to surprise me with something and I have no idea what,” you shake your head, “Which is important – she’s not planning on doing anything, is she?”

“I… don’t think so?” Lucas grimaces.

“Did you guys not even plan this beforehand?”

“Not really,” Lucas admits.

You snort, “Idiot.”

“Oh leave me alone.”

“Not for this!”

“Let’s go to school and you can ask her there,” you snort, “Anne!”

“Yes!”

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah –“

All three of you pile into the car together and get to school, picking up Jane on the way.

“So, Max,” Lucas says as you all walk through the halls together, Jane holding onto your hand and just smiling.

“Yeah, stalker?” Max asks, looking amused.

“Um… what did you want to do today? You know, after school?”

“Probably go watch TV,” Max rolls her eyes, slamming her locker shut.

“Uh… I meant more like… for Valentine’s… Day?” Lucas grimaces.

You are trying really hard to not laugh.

“You… hadn’t mentioned anything,” Max raises an eyebrow.

“Right, well, um, I wanted to surprise you, which feels really stupid now –“

“Just a little bit.”

“Are you okay with… not… watching TV?”

“Sure,” Max snorts, “What do you want to do?”

“Um… well I was trying to figure something out but… well… what do you want to do?”

“Do you want to go and heckle one of the awful movies that came out today?” Max offers, “WE can make fun of it in the back.”

“Sounds good,” Lucas grins.

“I’m so proud of them,” you whisper to El. El snickers softly.

“Do you want a rematch on the arm wrestling without psychic powers?” Max challenges.

El walks up to her and grins, “Any day, I can beat you.”

“Oh, I’d like to see that,” Max laughs.

The two of them shove each other lightly, before you all split up, laughing, to go to class.

February 18, 1976

“Happy Birthday toooooo yooooou!”

Everyone finishes singing as Marty blows out a bunch of candles on top of a cake.

You still find this weird, but honestly at this point the weirdness of everything around you is normal, and things you find normal are… weird, instead.

“Happy Birthday sweetheart,” his mom says, hugging Marty tightly.

“Thanks Mom,” Marty says awkwardly, grinning a little bit.

“For your birthday, you get… a new last name!” Dustin cheers.

Marty glares at him and sticks out his tongue.

“It is nice, though. New start, right?”

“Right,” his mom responds.

“Alright, it’s time for presents!” Anne shouts, pulling out boxes of them. Marty opens them eagerly, revealing books and new sweaters because he’s growing very, very, very tall.

Much taller than you.

It’s… annoying.

“Okay, would you like your special present first, or some of the others?” his mom asks.

“Hmmm… other ones first,” Marty responds.

“Here you go buddy!” Dustin says excitedly, handing Mike a poorly-wrapped rectangle. Marty looks at him in amusement, before opening it, and grinning.

“Sweet, Return of the Jedi! Finally we can watch the whole trilogy,” Mike gasps.

“Yeah! We all pitched in to get it for you,” Dustin nods, pointing to the rest of the party, “Well, except Jane.”

He glares at you and you glare back.

“I have my own gift!”

“Here,” Nancy rolls her eyes, “It’s from me and Jonathan.”

Mike eagerly opens it to find a manual for the Ghostbusters roleplaying game.

“Oh man!” Mike gasps, flipping through the pages, “Oh man.”

“Dude,” Dusting asps.

“This is going to be freaking amazing,” Lucas agrees.

Max gives you a look and you laugh.

“Okay, I think the next gift has to be the big one.” Hopper says, “Before we give our present.”

“Alright,” Mike’s mom agrees, and she pulls out a large package, which Mike looks at with wide eyes and parted lips.

“No –“

“Just open it!”

Mike rips off all the paper very fast, revealing a large box saying “Nintendo ENTERTAINMENT SYSTEM” on it.

“Mom! Oh my God! Mom!” Mike shouts, looking at it happily, “Oh my god!”

“It’s from me and your grandparents, and it comes bundled with Super Mario Bros,” his mom says, beaming at him.

“And your no-good father is gone, so it won’t be taken away from you for no reason,” Zayde mutters.

“David,” Bubbe hisses.

“Just telling it like it is.”

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you –“

“Michael, calm down!” his mom laughs, but the three adults all hug him together as he jumps up in excitement.

“Alright kid, here are some presents from me and Joyce and… Steve, apparently,” Hopper looks over at Steve, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Look, they were all expensive, and I’m a junior cop, you don’t pay me enough,” Steve responds, glaring.

“Kid, this isn’t a work environment –“

“I am nineteen years old –“

“That doesn’t make you not a kid –“

Jonathan and Nancy are laughing quietly together in a corner, as Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Max all groan. You just look at Mike, smirking, as he smirks back at you.

“Please stop,” Joyce groans, handing over the two wrapped packages to Mike. He opens them happily to reveal two other games – Ice Climber and Excitebike.

“Oh wow!” Mike gasps, “Thanks, you guys!”

“Of course kiddo,” Hopper nods.

“Oh man we’re going to play that all day come on let’s set it up –“ Dustin says quickly, and the other boys grab the box and run over to the TV.

Mike grins and hugs his parents again while you stand awkwardly next to them all.

“Jane, I know you have a gift –“ his mom says.

“I’d like to have him open it alone with me, if that’s okay,” you murmur. His mom nods and people start milling about and talking while the other kids set up the game system. You sit down next to Mike and hand him the wrapped present, biting your lip nervously.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Jane, I know you don’t have an allowance,” Mike murmurs, taking your hands in his.

“I made something,” you say, smiling at him. He grins back and unwraps it, pulling it out and looking at you.

“It’s… a book?”

“Yeah,” you respond, “I bought a notebook at the store. Just open it.”

He opens up the leather-bound book and starts reading from a page.

“I remember when I first saw you in the woods. I was cold and scared and wet, and you found me there. You didn’t even question it, you just brought me home –“

Mike looks up at you with tears in his eyes, “What… is it?”

“I just wrote down… everything I feel about you. It was hard, but Doctor Owens said it would be a good way to practice my writing,” you take in a deep breath, “And… when everything happened… I needed a way to deal with it.”

He swallows, “Um… does it talk about…”

“It does.”

“Oh.”

“But it talks about the good things, too. Mostly the good things.”

He smiles weakly at you, “Thank you, Jane.”

You lean in and kiss him, and he holds you back tightly for a long time, ignoring Dustin shouting “MIKE, JANE, GET IN HERE!”

“I love you,” you murmur, “Happy birthday.”

“Thanks,” he grins, “I love you.”

“MIKE!”

“COMING!” Mike screams back, looking annoyed. You giggle and pull on one of his curls, making it go boing!

“Please don’t do that in front of them all or else they think it’ll be okay for them to do it,” Mike groans.

“No promises,” you giggle.

“Must you hurt me in this way?”

“Yes,” you laugh more, and you both walk over to the living room to take turns playing video games. The cake could, apparently, wait till later.

February 22, 1976

“Dustin, are you sure you don’t need anything?” you ask.

You were supposed to go and pick him up (and by ‘pick up’ you mean ‘ride on the back of his bike to Marty's house’) for the usual Saturday hang out and minor study session.

But Dustin was lying in bed, refusing to move.

“I feel awful. Just leave me here to die.”

“Dustin.”

“Take care of Yertle for me.”

“Dustin!”

“I am fated to die, El. Fated to die alone and unwanted, forever –“

Dustin lets out a long, painful cough.

“So Nadine didn’t say yes when you asked her out,” you say calmly, “Big deal.”

“I am in LOVE,” Dustin shouts, “I am in LOVE and I have been SCORNED –“

“Dustin, you are not in love.”

“Yes I am! You and Marty do not have the monopoly on love –“

“Dustin, you barely know Nadine.”

“So?”

“So, that means you aren’t in love with her. You like her a lot, and you probably want to kiss her, but that’s not the same thing as love.”

“Alright then, miss smarty pants,” Dustin sits up and glares at you, “What is love then?”

“Um,” you sit down at the foot of his bed and frowns, “Uh…”

“Come on, oh grand expert.”

“Well… you know how when you’re friends with someone… you’d do anything for them?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’d never lie or break a promise?”

“Yup.”

“Well okay. Start with that. Then… you know how when your friend is upset, you’re upset too?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well… imagine that feeling but like, deeper. You feel… their pain… inside of you. Like it’s your own. And you would not just do anything for them. You’d do everything for them. And you want to spend forever with them. And they… they make you feel warm inside. All over. So happy and warm and good. And… you don’t even need to really be doing anything with them. You’re just happy to sit with them somewhere and read together. And you can’t imagine your life without them. And…” you’re rambling now, which you’ve picked up from Marty.

You’ve picked up a lot of things from Marty. And he from you, really.

“Okay okay okay. I guess I don’t love Nadine,” Dustin sighs, “But… then why do I want to kiss her and take her on dates?”

“I dunno. I guess you like her – like her?” you offer, “Which can lead to love, but it isn’t love love.”

“Fine,” Dustin groans, flopping back on the board, “No one will ever love me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you say, “Your friends all love you in a not-kissing way.”

You understand that now.

You think.

“Consider: you know what I meant.”

“Okay, I know you’re going to find someone who will love you.”

“I swear, if you spout any of Will’s soulmate crap –“

“I don’t believe in soulmates.”

“You… don’t?”

“No. It’s ridiculous. Marty said once that it would mean there’s more order in the universe than their actually is.”

Dustin laughs, “Agreed. The universe tends towards disorder!”

You frown at him, “What?”

“It’s the second law of thermodynamics – you know what, never mind. Chemistry is next year.”

You shake your head and continue, “Anyway, soulmates don’t exist, but that doesn’t mean you’re doomed to never be in love with someone.”

“No one’s weird enough to get me. All the girls who do get me are already with people.”

“I think you never know what will happen or who you’ll meet in the future.”

“But all normal people just… I dunno. Like, they have their lives and they’re happy and they didn’t have to fight ghosts and see people die and watch their friends deteriorate into ghosts of themselves and… and… I just can’t relate to anyone. And when I do they find me weird because, well, it’s not like they know about everything, and also I’m just weird to begin with, but not even nerdy girls like me because I am an extra freak –“

“Other societal outcasts exist,” you murmur softly, “It’s not just us.”

“We’re an entire other breed of societal outcasts.”

“Right, and there are people of equally ridiculous weirdness.”

“Like who.”

“Well, my sister and her friends,” you murmur.

Your heart pains for a minute.

“The murder family?”

“Well, yes…”

“Great. That’s comforting.”

“All I’m saying is that eventually you’ll find someone who can handle you, and who you can handle, that’s all.”

“Such as a murder family.”

“No! Not them! I just mean we’re not alone, that if we exist and the Murder Family exists then there must be other groups of people out there just as fucked up as us who aren’t us or a murder family. The murder family are all adults anyway,” you shout, “Except my sister. She’s only a little older. But she’s a bag of crazy you don’t want to touch.”

“Great. My crazy friend is saying her crazy sister is too crazy for me.”

“Yup.”

Dustin glares at you before sighing, “Yeah fair enough.”

“And I don’t know where they are, anyway,” you mutter quietly.

“Okay, moving on from this weird alternate universe we’ve entered where suddenly we are talking about your murder family as a serious prospect for my dating life,” Dustin says, sitting up and looking at you, “If you want to find them… can’t you? In your head?”

“I could,” you admit softly.

“But?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Okay.”

“DUSTIN! DUSTIN, DO YOU COPY?”

The buzzing of the walkie shocks both of you. Dustin reaches for it and shouts, “SHUT UP WE’RE HAVING A MOMENT HERE.”

You laugh.

“Why… don’t you want to?”

You swallow and shake your head, staring down pointedly at your knees.

“DUSTIN? DUSTIN, THERE IS A BIOLOGY TEST WE HAVE TO STUDY FOR –“

“OH MY GOD SHUT UP, OVER,” Dustin shouts, before bursting into a coughing fit and groaning.

You roll your eyes, “We should go.”

“No,” Dustin responds, turning off the walkie and looking at you, “Have you talked to Marty about this?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

“He’s… been…”

“You can’t bottle up your own feelings because he –“

“Sure I can,” you whisper, “I’m already doing it.”

“El, that’s not healthy and you know it.”

“What do you know about healthy?” you snap.

Dustin frowns at you.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

“I don’t know much,” Dustin says softly, “But I do know that you shouldn’t bottle it up, either.”

You let out a long sigh.

“Um… when I was there… I talked about this a little bit, back after I closed the gate.”

“Right, right.”

“I mentioned that she made me see… papa?” the word escapes your lips in a hoarse, pained whisper.

You don’t want to say it.

You don’t want to think it.

You don’t want to think about the lab.

Make the memories come flooding back.

Overtake your brain.

Overtake your thoughts.

Overwhelm you.

Fill you everywhere.

Everywhere.

Everywhere…

“Jane?”

“Sorry.”

“Is that all?”

“I mean. She made papa talk to me,” you mumble.

“Right… and what did he say?”

“Um… that… that I have a wound,” you say, trying to not cry, “And… that I need to heal it. Or it’ll fester and kill me.”

Dustin looks at you seriously, frowning.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that true?”

“Probably,” you admit quietly.

“Do you want to talk about it?’

“I don’t… think I can.”

Dustin frowns at you worriedly, “El…”

“We should go,” you whisper, standing up and smoothing out your black skirt, “Come on.”

“El –“

“You heard Lucas, we have a test.”

Dustin grumbles, but follows you out the door.

March 6, 1976

This is it.

The most awkward conversation of your life.

You’d been putting it off and putting it off and putting it off and putting it off as long as you could.

You managed to go yourself, in secret, multiple times, using money you’d saved up from random sources (you wish you could have an allowance, but Hopper couldn’t really afford it, and he was saving up for you to go to college anyway, so you understood why in the end).

But you can’t put it off anymore.

You can’t try to gather funds yourself anymore.

You can’t mooch off of anyone, or ask anyone to help.

You need to talk to Hop.

You are so uncomfortable.

All.

Of.

The.

Time.

Pinchy pinchy pinchy pinchy –

You walk up to Hopper, who’s reading in his chair, Chester on top of his head again. Eddie is on your shoulder, and he’s singing a nice little song, which calms you a bit.

You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this You can do this –

“Um… Hop?”

“Yeah, kid? What’s up?”

“Can… we… go…”

“Go…?”

You let out a long sigh, “To the mall.”

“Why?”

You sigh again, “I… need new… bras.”

Hopper looks at you with wide eyes.

“You – what now?”

“I need new bras.”

“I didn’t realize you wear bras.”

“I have since the Snow Ball.”

“You – what?”

“The dress didn’t fit quite right and Anne helped me get my first one –“

“Jesus Christ –“

The birds were screaming because Hopper was talking loudly. It was all very, very, very loud and you were having trouble continuing to talk.

“I’ve been washing them myself with my other clothes…”

“And you haven’t needed new ones since then? I’ve been… wondering if you were going to… ask... to get your first ones.”

Hopper looks about as uncomfortable as you yourself feel.

“I… um… save up bits of money… to buy them when I need them,” you mutter, “But…”

“But?”

“I… uh… don’t have enough right now. And I really, really, really need new ones.”

Hopper grimaces, “Alright.”

“Can you take me?”

“Yup.”

“Thank you –“

“It’s fine, kid. That’s part of the job. Um… How many do you need?”

“I need to replace all of them.”

“All of them?”

You groan quietly, “All of them.”

“Wh… why?”

“They’re all pinchy and tight and too small and you can see through my shirts now that they’re too small and other girls make fun of me and –“

“Okay okay okay, slow down,” Hopper says calmly, “I… don’t get it but I get it in the sense that yeah, you’re right. Let’s go to the store. Don’t go overboard, and get practical ones, please.”

“Why wouldn’t I get practical ones?” you ask, frowning.

Hopper looks at you for a long time.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I said that.”

“Why don’t people get practical ones?”

“I don’t really know, myself, honestly.”

“People are weird?”

“People are weird.”

People did lots of weird things.

Wore weirdly uncomfortable looking bras – and underwear – and other clothes.

And looked at each other naked.

And made fun of you for not understanding things about this.

And you didn’t want to think about it at all.

You just buy the most comfortable bras you can find before leaving the store as quickly as possible, and Hopper looks just as relieved as you are.

March 18, 1976

“Friends! Romans! Countrymen!”

“Dork!”

Max bursts out laughing at lunch as Dustin glares at Lucas, who grins back at him.

“Anyways – right – Lend me your ears!”

“I can’t, they’re attached to my head,” you say in confusion.

Max laughs even more.

“Oh my God –“

“Just come out with it, Dustin,” Marty says, rolling his eyes. You rest your head against his arm and close your eyes happily.

“I am embarking on a new journey of adventure! Romance! Intrigue!”

“Being even weirder than usual,” Lucas snorts.

“You – shut your mouth –“

“Dustin get on with it,” Marty begs.

Will looks at you from across the table and you both grin at each other.

“I have my new typewriter and I am going to be beginning the greatest undertaking known to mankind…”

You all look at him in amusement, along with everyone else, leaning closer towards him to catch what he is going to say –

Dustin just grins at you all.

“Get on with it!” you all shout.

You may or may not have rented Monty Python and the Holy Grail that past weekend to watch.

“I’m going to write a story about what I think the Star Wars prequels should be!”

“For god'a sake –“

“Dustin, seriously?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“I was expecting this to be something important.”

“Dustin,” you groan.

“Oh you are?” Will gasps, the only positive one in the group.

“This is important!” Dustin protests, “I’m going to be writing an epic, gripping tale – the kind of tale we all wish we had from George Lucas himself –“

“You are so full of it right now!” Marty snorts.

“Plenty of people write Star Wars books! And now I will be the next –“

“Dustin, the prequels aren’t open for public creation!”

“So? I’m not going to publish it. I’m going to write it for you all to read!”

“This should be good,” Max snorts.

“I will write a chapter every day –“

“Every day?”

“And you will all read it and tell me what you think –“

“We cannot read a chapter of your story every day –“

“No protests! If I am to tell the entire epic tale of Anakin Skywalker, his wife Emine Organa –“

“You did not make that up –“

“Oh my God –“

“And their epic battles as jedi, side-by-side, during the horrible Clone Wars –“

“Dustin, please stop torturing me…”

“That spanned the entire Galaxy –“

“You span the entire Galaxy.”

“Oh come on, guys,” Dustin grumbles, slumping, “I’m really excited about this! I have a great idea and I want you all to read it!”

“I’ll read it,” you offer, smiling.

“Me too,” Will agrees.

Marty rolls his eyes, “Fine, I’ll read too.”

All of you look expectantly at Max and Lucas.

“Fine, if you’re all going to be talking about it all the time, I guess I’ll read. If only to make fun of you,” Max laughs.

You all turn to Lucas.

“No! No!” Lucas protests, “I do not have to participate in this!”

“Everyone else is,” you point out.

“Come on, make fun of Dustin’s terrible story with me,” Max says.

“I do not want my opinion of Star Wars to be ruined by Dustin’s crazed –“

“Maybe it’ll be good! You don’t know!” Dustin protests.

“Oh I do very well know, because you and I have very different ideas of what a prequel of Star Wars should be!”

“Just give me a chance. I promise there will be something in it for everyone.”

“Fine, but I will not hold back.”

“Bring it!”

“We’re going to witness a murder, aren’t we?” Will groans.

“The question is, who will murder who,” you agree.

“Dustin could very well murder Lucas for being too critical of his story,” Mike continues, frowning.

“But,” Will points out, “Lucas could murder Dustin for doing something in the story that he disagrees with on a fundamental level.”

“So basically, it’s a walking time bomb,” Marty agrees.

“Time… bomb?” you ask quietly, “I know what a bomb is but –“

“It’s a bomb that’s on a timer. So like, you can time it for a day or something, and it’ll go off in a day, rather than right then.”

“Oh,” you murmur.

You feel like you’re one of those, sometimes.

March 25, 1976

“Are you ready to go?”

Marty looks very, very, very excited, and it makes you very, very, very happy to see.

“Yup,” you twirl a little bit, “Do I look normal enough for your synagogue?”

His mouth is partially open and his eyes are wide as you twirl and your skirt goes up in a spinning motion. You stop spinning and the skirt settles back down around your legs, but he’s still looking like that.

Just… weird.

“What?” you ask.

He startles and shakes his head rapidly, closing his mouth.

“Uh… you look really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, blushing.

You wish he had just said that rather than act weird, though.

“Like… really beautiful.”

“Thanks,” you say again, walking up to him and kissing him on the cheek, “Ready to go?”

“Yup. My mom’s in the car,” he looks nervous, suddenly, “I’m supposed to be practicing driving.”

“You got the Learner’s Permit?”

“Yup, and I’m terrified, but I drove over here and I’m alive, so…”

“This should be interesting,” you giggle.

“I am especially terrified because I have you in the car and I don’t want to hurt you,” Marty admits.

You kiss him on the cheek again, “You’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head in disbelief and you both run together to the car, where his mom is waiting in the front seat.

“Ready to go?” she asks as Marty sits in the front. Holly is next to you, dressed in a costume (a fairy) and looking excited.

“Yeah, mom,” Marty says, putting the car in motion and driving extremely slowly and carefully through the town. He drives more cautiously than anyone you’ve driven with before, but you eventually reach the synagogue.

You all head out together into the building, where there are a lot of carnival games and booth set up, and plenty of food. Holly runs off with Marty's mom, with a bunch of other small kids who are dressed in costumes, playing games and things around the synagogue’s hall.

“What do you want to do first?” Marty asks.

“Let’s play some games,” you say, beaming at him, and he takes your hand and you go around the room together. You throw rings onto pegs and try to get prizes together, and Marty manages to keep you from cheating too much.

“Come on, Jane,” he groans as you get that look in your eye –

You keep losing and it is very annoying –

“This is a synagogue, not a sleezy real carnival where people trick you out of money. Don’t take money from a religious building,” Marty hisses.

“Fine,” you grumble in annoyance, just throwing the rings normally.

You don’t win anything, but it’s nice to have Marty and you hang out together, going around the room and throwing things.

All the little kids are dressed up in silly costumes, and you like to watch them run around and play games themselves.

Marty and you go up to one of the booths and you try to dunk the Rabbi into the dunk tank, the Rabbi laughing as lots of little kids fail to successfully complete the task.

You grab the ball and throw it, Marty watching you and smiling as you keep throwing the ball awkwardly and failing to have the Rabbi fall into the tank. Finally, you focus just a little bit, throw it, and he falls – splash! – to the joy and cheers of all the kids.

“You didn’t,” Marty laughs, glaring at you a little bit.

“I did,” you say proudly as you’re given a large teddy bear. You take the bear and hand it off to a kid next to you, who squeals in pure delight and runs away.

“Happy?” you ask, sticking your tongue out at him.

Marty grins at you a little bit, blushing as well.

“What?”

He still doesn’t say anything, just continues to smile at you.

“What?” you demand irritably.

“Oh,” he says, shrugging, “You just amaze me, that’s all.”

You roll your eyes at him and take his hand, walking through the carnival together and playing more of the games. Neither of you manages to win anything more, but you have fun, laughing and walking and talking together.

“Everyone! Everyone! Please take a seat!” the now very wet Rabbi calls from the front of the room, “It’s time for the Purim play!”

Marty grins eagerly at you and pulls you to go and sit together, him wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you look in confusion up at the stage.

“Chag sameach!” a woman greets, walking up to the front and waving.

“Chag sameach!” everyone greets back, and you do too, even though you are quite confused.

“Today we will be putting on the story of Esther and the evil Haman –“

“BOOOO!” everyone shouts, including Marty, so you boo too, grinning as everyone gets rowdy and loud together.

“In the same style as Star Wars! We hope you enjoy!” the woman yells, and Marty cheers very loudly, and seeing him this happy and carefree makes you feel the most hopeful you’ve felt in ages.

You wish you still had the notebook so you could write about today in it.

Perhaps you’ll get another one for some other time to give to him.

“Long ago in the days of the Persian Empire –“

You sit back and watch the play, and laugh as the character act silly and ridiculous, and boo along with everyone else every time the name Haman is said. Marty is laughing especially hard, and looks so happy, so very very happy, that you wish you could live in this moment forever.

The play ends and you and Mike get up together, wandering through the carnival. He takes you over to a place with some triangle-shaped pastries, the two of you eating them and the jelly in the middle getting all over your lips.

“Oh no,” Mike says, looking at you in worry, “Here –“

He pulls out a napkin and dabs your lips with it, looking even more flustered than before.

“What?” you ask, but your heart is pounding too as he looks at you.

Pounding much, much, much too fast.

“Um… sorry! Nothing!” Mike squeaks, throwing away the napkin and taking your hand.

You both play some more bad carnival games, and eat more of the fun pastries and other foods spread out all over the table, as some adults clear away all the chairs that were out for the play.

“We’ll now be having a dance! Come out and celebrate the fact that we are alive!”

A bunch of laughter goes up at that, and you find yourself agreeing with the thought. Mike grabs your hand and pulls you out onto the dance floor, spinning you around under his arm.

“Woah!” you shout, gasping but giggling and looking up at Mike in amusement.

“Sorry, gotta use my height to my advantage sometimes,” Mike says, beaming down at you. You stick your tongue out up at him.

“You are far too tall –“ you grumble, but he leans down and kisses you before you can finish.

You squeak in response and pull away, glaring and shouting, “Mike!”

“Oops, please finish,” he says, blushing.

“You are far too tall and skinny,” you finish, glaring more, “How?”

“Genetics,” he answers seriously, making you giggle more. He twirls you again, and you shout happily, and then he pulls you back to rest on his chest.

“I love you,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

The music changes to something more upbeat – something about S’s and A’s and F’s and E’s and T’s and Y’s and why was there a song spelling out SAFETY – but Mike keeps dancing slowly.

“Mike?” you ask quietly.

He seems to be spacing out, his eyes going in and out of focus.

Like those other times.

“Mike!” you shout, shaking him a little bit. He blinks rapidly, shaking his head and groaning.

“Um –“

You drag him away, pulling him to a corner and sitting with him on the floor. He holds his head in his hands and then looks up again, blood on his palm.

“Mike?” you whisper softly.

You don’t want to see his blood.

Ever, really.

“Um… I think it’s from,” he touches his nostril with his finger, “Yeah, I have a nosebleed.”

Your eyes widen.

“What?”

“People get them for reasons other than psychic powers, Jane,” Mike says softly.

“Oh.”

“I used to get them a lot when I was a kid –“

“What happened?” you demand, cutting him off.

He frowns, “Um… I dunno. I was remembering the Snow Ball for some reason.”

“Remembering?”

“Flashback, I guess.”

“Mike,” you say firmly, “I talked to Hop about this.”

“Oh?”

“Flashbacks are usually to things that were traumatic.”

“… Oh.”

“Yours aren’t always to things that were traumatic.”

“They also can be to things that never happened,” Mike jokes. You glare at him.

“Mike.”

“S – I mean. Um. Not the s-word. Something else. That means the same thing as the s-word.”

You shake your head and sigh, “Maybe it’s something else?”

“What else could it be?”

And you both stare out ahead together, wondering, as the carnival continues to happen around you.

April 9, 1976

“So, how has everything else been, in general? Besides worrying about El.”

You look at Doctor Owens and frown, thinking.

You’ve spent most of the session today talking about El.

You can’t stop worrying about El.

“Okay, mostly.”

“Let’s talk about that ‘mostly.’”

“Um… well, I’m doing better in school.”

“Good!”

“And I don’t self harm anymore. I do feel like I want to, though.”

“But it’s good you’re controlling those urges.”

“Yeah…”

“What else?”

“I… I still get bullied but, I dunno…”

“It’s alright Matthew. You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, “It’s not even that I don’t want to. It’s that it’s hard for me to put my feelings into words.”

“Oh I understand completely.”

“Like, words are hard.”

“Very hard.”

Doctor Owens smiles at you, and you find yourself smiling back, which is strange when you don’t entirely trust him yet.

“I guess… even though it still makes me feel awful… I now can use the things we talked about when I stayed here, to get through it?” you finally get out.

“Yes, well that would be the goal of therapy. Tools to get you through the day.”

You nod.

“I still smoke sometimes.”

“Hmm.”

“El hates it.”

“Do you want to keep smoking?”

“Not really. I know El hates it and I know it’s bad for me.”

“Would you like to talk about strategies to get you to quit?”

“Maybe,” you sigh, “Yeah. It’s not a bad idea.”

“Alright. Let’s tackle that next session.”

You frown.

“Is that all we’ll do?”

“Probably. Quitting smoking is difficult. In fact, there’s research in the works through the Surgeon General that cigarettes are actually addictive, though it hasn’t been published yet, of course.”

You nod. Makes sense.

“Why? Is there something else you’d like to talk about?”

Yeah.

Your head is being weird.

And you’re having flashbacks to things that aren’t actually traumatic.

And flashbacks to stuff that hasn't actually happened.

And when they happen you feel sick and sometimes get nosebleeds – usually get nosebleeds.

And it is all very very very confusing and distressing.

“Um, no. It’s nothing.”

“Alright. Then that’s what we’ll tackle next time.”

“Great,” you say, “Thank you, Doctor Owens.”

“Of course.”

You shake his hand and leave the lab, walking back out to the car and getting behind the driver’s seat.

“Are you alright for practice hours?” your mom asks.

“Um…” you frown.

“You don’t have to be. I know therapy can be very exhausting,” Mom continues.

“No, I want to get more hours in,” you say firmly, starting up the car and driving very carefully through the town.

“You should speed up a little, sweetheart. You don’t want to get into an accident for being overly cautious.”

“Yeah, okay.”

You speed up some, but you don’t like it much.

“So what did you talk about today?”

“Mostly about how I’m worried about El,” you admit quietly.

“Did you talk about yourself at all?”

“Yeah, a little.”

Your mom sighs.

“Honey, you can’t be any help at all to El if you don’t –“

“I am taking care of myself, Mom, I promise. El's just been… more quiet lately,” you admit.

“More quiet?”

“I mean, she talks, it’s not like when we first found her, but she doesn’t… offer up stuff. As much. She seems like she’s always lost in her head.”

Mom sighs.

“I’m sorry, Matthew.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I could see this coming.”

“Uh… what?”

“Don’t take what I’m about to say the wrong way.”

“Okay…”

“She’s been bottling up all of her own pain and issues over… her entire past… this past year. Because of you, and the fact that you’ve needed her.”

“Oh,” you mumble.

Guilt

Guilt

Guilt

Guilt

Guilt –

“Matthew.”

You snap out of it.

“Take deep breaths. Use what Doctor Owens has told you.”

You nod.

You focus on what you’re doing.

Drive.

Drive carefully.

Watch the road.

Stick between the lines.

Turn signal.

Break slowly.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

“Okay,” you mutter, “Sorry.”

“it’s fine, I’m glad you pulled yourself out of it.”

You nod.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right, though. That she’s been doing that.”

“I just hope she talks to someone about what she’s feeling.”

“Me, too,” you whisper.

“She isn’t talking to you?”

“Every time I ask about it she just glares at me until I drop the subject,” you admit tiredly.

“Well,” Mom sighs again, “You can’t force her to talk about it.”

“No,” you agree, though you feel like there’s a permanent weight in the bottom of your stomach – different than your depression weight.

It’s a worry weight.

“I can’t force her at all.”

April 15, 1976

“Hot off the presses! Hot off the presses! Finally, despite exam delays and that one pause I took for my cough, finally, we have –“

Dustin looks expectantly at Will and he immediately starts doing a drumroll.

“CHAPTER TWENTY!”

“Thank God,” Lucas snaps, grabbing the sheets of paper from Dustin and looking them over.

“Hey! It’s my turn to read first!” you shout, trying to grab it from him.

“No!” Dustin shouts, putting his arms between the two of you, “No no no. We do not want a repeat of the Chapter Sixteen Incident!”

“Fine,” you grumble in annoyance, “Lucas, don’t tell us what happens.”

“I won’t, I promise,” Lucas says, eagerly, pouring over the pages and reading while he sips his juice.

“This rotation system is ridiculous. Obviously you need to type out multiple copies of each chapter for us,” Max says, grumbling.

“Right, because I can type out twenty pages over and over and over again. Yup, that makes sense,” Dustin grumbles, “Especially when I can’t sleep. Stupid nightmares.”

“At least do it twice!”

“No!”

“But how will you get my humorous Chewbacca quips otherwise?”

“I will wait!”

“You fool, you absolute –“

Jane is giggling next to you, her face in her hands as everyone argues around you. You look down at her to smile at her, and she blushes in response.

“What?”

“I just like your laugh, that’s all.”

She sticks her tongue out at you.

You want to kiss her.

“What?” she asks again, frowning at you.

“I – uh – nothing –“

“You’re acting weird.”

Everyone’s looking at you.

You want to melt into the floor.

Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid –

“Yeah, Mike, why are you acting weird?” Lucas teases. You glare at him.

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Mike’s acting weird!” Max chants, looking around at everyone. Dustin immediately joins in.

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“I’m not –“

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Guys shut up I’m trying to read –“

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

The only people who are not chanting in your party now are you and Lucas.

“I am not!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“Mike’s acting weird!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

Emboldened by the full participation of the group, the others have started shouting, pounding their fists on the table.

“Oh my God,” you groan.

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD!”

“MIKE’S ACTING WEIRD –“

“EMINE IS ALIVE!”

Everyone shuts up, turning to look at Lucas.

“Lucas you didn’t,” Dustin groans.

“YOU SPOILED IT!” you shriek in fury, diving after Lucas. Lucas gets up and runs away, shouting, “YOU ALL DIDN’T LET ME READ!”

You chase after him angrily, sprinting through the halls as you chase him out of the cafeteria and down the building.

“HEY!”

You skid to a stop, your shoes squeaking against the linoleum, while Lucas runs away faster.

A teacher walks up to you, glaring.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh… running.”

“No running in the halls!”

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, “Um, I’ll go back to lunch.”

“You do that,” the teacher grumbles, walking off after where Lucas went. You go to sit back down, picking up the pages of Dustin’s story to read, even though you already know what happens.

April 27, 1976

“Mom!” you scream from the bathroom, “MOM!”

“What, honey? We have to go,” she says, running up to the bathroom and looking at you with a slight glare.

“Look, we can’t avoid this anymore,” you grumble.

“Can’t avoid what?”

“I need a razor.”

“Matthew –“

“LOOK AT MY FACE!”

Your mom sighs heavily as you point to your chin with one hand and your upper lip with the other.

“I HAVE AN AWKWARD PUBERTY BEARD, MOTHER.”

“Well, you’re Jewish, and we’re not entirely famed for being hairless –“

“MOTHER.”

“Sweetie, you know how I feel about you being around –“

“I know, Mom,” you groan, “But I look like a teenager who thinks he can grow a beard when he can’t so I’m just awkward looking. AWKWARD, MOTHER.”

“Marty –“

“IT IS EL'S BIRTHDAY.”

“I’m aware, we’re going to be late –“

“PLEASE DON’T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A PEDOPHILE ON EL'S BIRTHDAY.”

You can hear Anne cackling in another room.

“Fine! But I get to supervise you and I will keep your razor locked up in another room.”

“Fine!”

Your mom makes a motion to leave, before groaning.

“Father –“

“Yes?”

“Can you teach Marty to shave his face?”

“Don’t you have to get going?”

“This is slightly important for that to happen.”

“Alright, alright.”

Zayde comes into the room with shaving cream and a razor. He helps you to put it on and shows you how to move the razor blade against your face, and then watches you as you repeat the action.

It itches and hurts and you nick yourself in a few places.

And you’re trying to not look too closely at it.

Lest you start to remember.

And start to spiral.

And let any of your addictive urges take over.

You take a long, deep breath and hand it to your mom when you’re done and all the little hairs are off of your face.

“Alright, I’ll go put this away and then we’ll get going.”

“Thanks, Mom,” you say softly. She walks away, leaving you and Zayde alone.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

“Um… mostly,” you admit.

“Well, one day you’ll be able to grow a proper beard and you won’t have to shave anymore.”

You perk up.

“I won’t?”

“If you’re my grandson, which you are.”

You grin.

“Sweet.”

“Come on,” Zayde laughs, “You need to go wish El a happy birthday.”

You grin at him and run to change into something nicer, before getting into the car with your mom and Anne.

“You have everything right?” Mom asks as you start driving, slowly, down the road.

“Yup,” you respond, focusing on the road. Driving to the cabin is the fucking worst with all the trees and non-roads, but you suppose you couldn’t have a better method of actually practicing how to drive.

You pull up to the house and all walk in, finding everyone mingling about and talking. Jane runs up to you happily, tackling you in a hug.

“Happy Birthday,” you murmur, pulling back from her to kiss her. She smiles up at you, blushing furiously to contrast with her black lipstick and black eyeshadow.

“Thanks,” she says, “Come on, we’re all bothering Steve.”

“Bothering Steve?” Nancy asks behind you. Jane laughs and pulls you with her into the living room.

“Okay Steve, picture this: you’re walking in the woods –“

“Oh my God you kids have got to stop this now –“

“There’s no one around. You can’t get a decent signal on your walkie.”

“Dustin I swear to God –“

“Out of the corner of your eye, you spot him…”

“Maxine –“

“Billy Hargrove!” everyone shouts in unison.

“I hate you. I hate all of you you little dipshits,” Steve sighs, holding his face in his hands.

“What would you do?” Lucas asks, grinning.

“I’d fucking taser him,” Steve says, a dreamy look coming on over his face.

“I’m super glad Billy moved back to California,” Max says, “And that I don’t have to talk to him except at holidays now.”

“Your dad is awful, though,” Lucas mutters.

“Yeah,” Max agrees quietly.

“Let’s not think about that right now,” Will says, “Mike’s here!”

“Please, Mike, stop the torture –“

“Nope,” you laugh at Steve’s crestfallen expression, “This is too funny.”

“Steve,” Jane asks seriously, “You’ve replaced Hopper as police chief –“

“Oh please, not another one –“

“Wait, why has he replaced me?” Hopper asks, stepping out behind a wall. The birds are on his shoulder, both screaming, and one flies over to land on your head.

You decide to do nothing about this situation, especially since this means Eddie has started to sing instead of scream.

“You’ve gone into a well needed retirement,” Jane says simply, “Now – Steve, you’ve replaced Hopper. And you hear tales of something weird happening in the woods.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake –“

“And you go to investigate these weird things. There’s a house, abandoned, in the middle of the woods…”

“Not this one, I presume?”

“No, this is where Hopper is retiring.”

“I’d go to Florida, thank you very much.”

“Yeah right,” Jane laughs, “Anyways – you find a weird shadow creature living in the house –“

“Okay then!” Hopper shouts, “You know what, Mike being here means it’s a good time for leaven free cake and presents!”

“Leaven free cake?” you ask in confusion.

“Yeah, I have a normal cake for me,” Jane grins, “But we made this one for you guys.”

“Thank you,” you beam, leaning in and kissing her on the cheek, “Was it hard?”

“Well, I made it, so,” Mrs. Byers rolls her eyes.

“I helped,” Hopper protests.

“You bought the ingredients!” Mrs. Byers smirks.

“And I helped you mix it!”

Jane looks at you with the most pained expression and it makes you snort.

“Barely! You just made a mess!”

“I did not! My job was very important! And I haven’t been sleeping well because of those damn dreams I’ve been having – ”

“That’s not an excuse!”

“Okay we have a cake you guys can all eat!” Jane says hurriedly before the bickering can continue, “Let’s all sit!”

Everyone sits around the table as presents are piled on Jane, Jane eagerly taking them and opening them. She receives what you’d expect – new punk albums, cd’s, a concert ticket, and clothing.

Except for the big present –

“Alright,” Hopper says as Chester chews on wrapping paper and Jane giggles at the bird’s antics, “One second and I’ll bring out my present.”

“Okay,” Jane says happily, though she’s clearly focusing on the bird’s antics.

Hopper leaves for a moment and then comes back in, bringing out a –

“A guitar?” Jane whispers, her eyes widening.

“Yup,” Hopper beams, handing it to her. Her face breaks into a huge grin, before she tackles Hopper to the ground with a hug, making him grunt in pain.

“Kid –“

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you –“

“You’ll have to be serious about your lessons!” Hopper grunts as they both get up, looking at her with raised eyebrows, “You can’t slack on them.”

“I won’t I won’t I won’t I won’t I won’t –“

“And it’s just an acoustic guitar, I do not have the energy for that amount of loudness –“

“I love it I love it I love it I love it –“

“Jane I can show you some chords,” Jonathan offers, grinning.

“Yes yes yes yes yes –“

“First, she should open Mike’s present,” Mom says, smirking.

“Um, can I give her my present in private?” you ask quietly. Everyone nods and starts mingling about as you and Jane go to her room, alone, sitting on her bed.

Your heart pounds loudly in your throat even though you didn’t give it permission to.

You’re just giving her a present for the love of everything –

“What is it?” Jane asks softly, looking at you happily.

“Um… right,” you pull out the gift and hand it to her, smiling, “Here.”

She opens it, to find two things – a blank, leather-bound notebook, and another notebook, with words written in it.

“What… is this?” she asks, frowning.

“Open them,” you say, smiling.

She opens the blank one and reads aloud, “Memories Volume Two.”

She looks at you in confusion, tilting her head to the side.

“I loved that book you wrote me,” you murmur, holding her hands in yours tightly, “Even the bad parts –“

“Even the –“

“Yes, even that.”

“Okay…”

“And I don’t want you to stop writing.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I think it’s good for you,” you continue, tucking a curl of her hair behind her ear, “And your writing has really improved since you started. Your reading, too.”

She smiles and blushes again.

“And… I want to read more of it. What you think, about all of this. Our lives together,” you whisper, and your voice is a little hoarse.

She leans in and kisses you, and it’s a deep kiss, the kind that makes your whole body feel absolutely weak and your mind wiped blank, and it makes your heart pound even more.

“U… Uh… Um –“

“What’s the other one?” Jane asks.

“Well, for me, Doctor Owens told me to think more about the future,” you explain, “About where I’d like to go in the future and what I’d like to do in my life. I managed to fill up a whole notebook with it. It’s not like… plans, like ‘oh I want a house at the end of the street with two – point – five kids or something. But it’s just… I dunno… images? Scenes? Thoughts about stuff I hope will happen. Like... I dunno, just read it,” you finish.

Jane opens the book and murmurs out loud, “One day we’ll be sitting by a fireplace. The snow will be falling around outside, and it’ll look cold and dark. But we won’t notice at all…”

She looks up at you and smiles.

“Thank you, Mike.”

“Yeah,” you say, blushing furiously. You lean in to kiss her again, and she kiss you back softly, wrapping her arms tightly around your neck.

You can’t help but let out a squeak.

She pulls back from you and smirks.

“Why do you always do that?”

“Do – what?”

“Squeak.”

“Squeak?”

“Squeak!”

“Uh… I dunno,” you say.

You don’t want to say it out loud.

The unspoken fact that your relationship was growing up along with you has to remain unspoken.

For some reason you just…

You know…

You can’t talk about it…

Not yet…

You don’t know what will happen but you don’t think it will be good.

“Mike,” Jane glares at you.

“What?”

“Friends don’t lie, especially boyfriends.”

You sigh heavily.

“I dunno, just, kissing feels nice.”

She nods, “Why was that hard to say?”

“Uh… I dunno. I’m being stupid I guess.”

She glares at you for another minute, before shrugging.

“Alright. Let’s go back. I want to try out the guitar!”

You beam at her and walk out with her.

You really hope the shoe won’t drop any time soon.

M A Y  1 0   1 9 8 6

You are so proud of Will you could cry.

He’s up there in the synagogue, chanting along with the Torah, using the pointer to go along with the Hebrew words. He gets a few mixed up here and there (he just happens to be chanting the Torah Portion you chanted when you became a Bar Mitzvah) but he’s going along almost perfectly, and he looks fairly confident while he does it somehow.

Next to you Jane is listening intently, her brow furrowed as she tries to follow along with the translation in the book. Dustin is awake, but clearly not paying attention nearly as much; Lucas seems to be nodding off, and Max is just straight up asleep. Hopper and Mrs. Byers are behind you, with Hopper coughing frequently. Steve, Jonathan, and Nancy all sit next to them, where your Mom is near you, with Holly.

You nod at Jane and she looks over at your sleeping pals and glares a little bit. She tilts her head ever so slightly, making both Lucas and Max move in their seats.

Max jumps in hers, now awake, and turns slowly to glare at Jane. Jane grins back, while Lucas just groans quietly.

“Shhh,” Mrs. Byers hisses next to you all, and you all sit more quietly, Jane looking at you with a smile.

You smile back.

It’s one of those moments where you just can’t believe she exists.

Will finishes his Torah portion and the service continues on, before everyone breaks for the small party being thrown afterwards.

You run up to Will and hug him and he grins at you, looking nervous but happy.

“You did great man!” you cheer, running up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You couldn’t tell that I was, ya know, completely new at this, and doing this way later than anyone else, because I hadn’t been raised Jewish yet?”

“Nope, not at all!”

“Phew,” Will nods.

“Is Jonathan going to do this?” Jane asks curiously, looking at you with a tilted head.

“No, probably not,” Will admits, “He’d have to fully convert, he was too old when Mom came back to this.”

“Oh,” Jane frowns, “Is converting hard?”

“Fairly,” you say, “You have to learn a lot.”

She nods, a concentrated expression on her face, “Hmm.”

“Guys! There’s food!” Max shouts.

“Duh?” Dustin looks at her in confusion.

“Dustin, I’m not talking to you.”

“What? Still?!”

“I have not forgiven you for that last chapter –“

“It needed to happen!”

“Needed my ass –“

“Guys, this is a religious event –“ Will protests, running forward to them all.

“HERSHIEN SKYWALKER WAS A PRECIOUS, GOOD SOUL AND HE DID NOT DESERVE TO BE MURDERED BY DARTH KIOL –“

“HIS MURDER WILL BEGIN ANAKIN’S PATH TO THE DARK SIDE!”

“GUYS!”

You snort quietly and Jane giggles next to you.

You lean down to grab a glass of punch and then pull yourself back up, looking around the room.

Jane isn’t next to you anymore.

“Wha –“

“Good job, Michael. I know you didn’t want to do that today but we’re still proud of you,” your Mom says, walking up to you. Your dad is –

What –

Dad –

Why –

“Mike?”

You look and see Jane.

“Flashback,” you whisper softly.

Jane looks worried sick.

“Come on, Michael, don’t cause a scene here,” your father says in the past.

“I want to go home –“

“This is your Bar Mitzvah. At least look a little happy about it –“

“Mike?”

“Help,” you whisper, trying to remove yourself from the past. It’s as though you have one foot in one place, and the other in the other.

Jane grabs your arm and pulls you away, back outside to the parking lot. You sit on the curb and hold your head in your hands, staring down at the pavement.

“Mike?”

You look up at her, sniffling.

“Your nose is bleeding.”

“Oh…”

You take out a hankerchief and wipe off your nose.

“Your nose bleeds every time this happens.”

“Not every time.”

“Every time, Mike.”

She looks so worried you wish you could say something.

“Look, it’s nothing.”

“Have you talked to Doctor Owens yet?”

“We’re… still working on my smoking.”

Jane makes a sound of annoyance, crossing her arms tightly in front of her chest, as if to shrink it.

“What’s wrong?” you ask her softly.

“Nothing,” she mutters.

“C’mon, Jane –“

“You need to talk to him about this! This isn’t normal!”

“Nothing’s normal.”

“You know what I mean…”

“I… know. I know I need to talk to him about this…”

“Mike?”

You look up to see the rest of the party standing there, looking at you in worry.

“You ran out of there, what’s going on?” Lucas asks.

“Um…”

You look at Jane, frowning. She studies you for a moment, before turning to the others.

“Mike’s been having weird visions.”

“Jane –“

“Weird visions?” Will asks, his face paling.

“Uh… yeah.”

“Okay, you have to tell us now,” Dustin demands angrily.

“I – what –“

“Man, we all know what happens when we bottle things up,” Lucas agrees, “You gotta talk to us about this, okay?”

“Alright… fine,” Mike sighs heavily, “So… uh… starting last summer I’d get flashbacks to stuff in the past. I figured it was a PTSD thing, you know? It was pretty much always to stuff that was bad that happened, like Jane getting lost in the Upside Down after defeating the Demogorgon, or Will collapsing on the field, or all those people dying because of the Demo-Dogs, or us all going into the tunnels and running away from the Demo-Dogs… stuff like that.”

“Yeah?” Dustin asks.

“But… starting last fall I’d get… more of them. And they weren’t just bad things. A lot of them were just memories, you know? Just normal memories. And over the summer when this happened I’d feel nauseous, but now I was…”

“Actually throwing up,” Jane says quietly.

“Like, remember Halloween?”

“I thought you were just throwing up because of alcohol,” Lucas says, frowning.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “Well, I guess I wasn’t. And then… when I came back from Doctor Owens… I had a vision of something that hasn’t actually happened.”

“Something that hasn’t happened?” Will asks breathlessly.

“Like… the future?” Max asks.

“Oh man – can you see into the future? Mike, that’s awesome –“ Dustin shouts.

“I don’t know if it was the future. It was just kind of weird and disjointed,” you interrupt, shaking your head.

“And you started to get nosebleeds during it,” Jane mutters quietly.

“Wait… like… Jane using her powers… nosebleeds?” Lucas asks, his eyes wide.

“Um… well I thought it was just cause the air was dry,” you admit.

“But the air’s not dry now,” Jane mutters, now sounding a little angry.

“No,” you agree softly.

“But Mike’s not a psychic! He doesn’t have the number on his arm, his mom wasn’t in that study thing, and it’s not like being psychic is a disease, you can’t transfer it, it must just be a coincidence,” Lucas insists.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you agree, “But what are the visions?”

“I don’t know, but can you even control them?” Lucas asks.

“I… haven’t tried.”

Everyone looks at you, and you look at everyone else.

“You should try,” Dustin says.

“Look, I can see into the past any time I want, it’s called remembering things –“

“Yeah, but this is different. You’ve said so yourself,” Jane murmurs, “You see things that you wouldn’t remember.”

You swallow and look back at her.

“It’s just a weird mental illness thing.”

“I dunno, man,” Will mutters, “I don’t think you can count on that.”

You look at him, and he looks at you.

“How would I even try?”

“Try to… I dunno, try to see like, what will happen tonight,” Dustin offers.

“Right, because I know how to control this madness –“

“Mike.”

You turn to look at Jane, and she looks at you, and she looks upset.

“Can you drive us back to your house – or my house – or somewhere?”

“Um… no? I’d need my mom.”

She nods, “Alright. Everyone,” she turns back to the group, “After the party, we’re going to my house. No adults.”

“No adults –“

“I want to find out more ourselves before we involve them,” she whispers quietly.

“Alright,” you agree. Everyone else piles back into the room, but you hold Jane back.

“Jane?”

“What?” she asks softly.

“What’s wrong?”

“I made you sick,” she mutters.

“You can’t have!”

“Who else could have?”

You look at each other for a long time.

“I made you sick,” she repeats.

“Jane…”

“I’m a monster and I made you sick and I hurt everyone I touch and I’m a black hole,” she says, before turning and running into the gym before you can say anything more.

You spend the rest of the party trying to get her to talk to you, but she pretty thoroughly avoids you, making you fall prey to your own terrible thoughts.

Awful

Terrible

Never should have told her

Worthless

Waste of space

Making her hate herself

Terrible

Terrible

Terrible

Terrible

Terrible –

You force yourself to sit down in a chair and think about other things.

You think about kissing her.

You think about Will reading the Torah.

You think and you think and you think and you think and you breathe and you breathe and you breathe and you breathe –

Until you finally manage to pull yourself out of it again.

The party winds down and you all go up to Steve together.

“Hey, Steve?” you ask.

“Yeah?” he says, looking startled and putting down his glass of wine.

“Can you drive us all to the cabin?” you ask.

“The – what now?”

“The cabin.”

“Uh… why?”

“We want to test something,” Dustin says.

“But – I was going to –“

“What’s going on?”

Hopper walks up to you all.

“Uh…” you falter.

“We wanted to do an experiment at the cabin,” Jane says firmly, “Alone.”

“You and Mike? Alone?”

Hopper glares at you out of the corner of his eye.

“No, all of us,” she gestures to the group, “And Steve.”

“I thought you asked for the night off so you could hang out with Jonathan and Nancy?” Hopper asks, looking over at Steve in confusion.

“I did, they sprung this on me too.”

“Why can’t I help? I’d like to go home,” Hopper says.

“Has to be Steve,” Dustin says firmly.

Hopper sighs, “Steve, you can reschedule. I’ll work late tonight.”

“But –“

“The fun of being a father. Just let me know when you’d like off later.”

“Alright…”

He walks away to go talk to your Mom.

“I can’t believe this. Alright, let’s go,” Steve groans, and you all run out to his car. He drives through the town and into the woods, before reaching the cabin.

“Alright, you little shits, what the fuck is going on –“

“Mike,” Jane says, turning to you.

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“We’re going to do the sensory deprivation thing.”

“Is there a bathtub?” you ask in confusion.

She nods. She runs into her room and pulls out the kiddie pool from so long ago.

“No – what the fuck – what is going on –“ Steve shouts.

“We’re dunking Mike,” Jane says simply.

“Do we have salt?” Dustin asks in amazement.

“We have an emergency cash out back,” Jane explains, “It’s for… well, if I need to use my powers.”

“Fuck,” Lucas breathes.

“Why does Mike need a sensory deprivation tank?” Steve roars.

“Look, Steve –“ Dustin pulls him aside to start explaining.

“Lucas, go get the hose from the back,” Jane orders. Lucas nods and Max runs out with him.

“I’ll get the salt,” Will offers, running down the steps.

You turn to Jane as she busies herself setting up the kiddie pool.

“Jane – talk to me –“

“Busy.”

“Jane.”

She looks up at you, and mutters, “What?”

You swallow, “Are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No!” she shouts, looking shocked.

“But –“

“I’m mad at me,” she whispers.

“Jane…”

“I’m sorry you fell in love with me,” she mutters quietly, and before you can correct her she moves on, helping the others fill the bath with water.

“Okay, there’s a problem with this plan,” you say, as the kiddie pool essentially fills the entire living room, water sloshing around as Dustin checks the temperature and Steve swears consistently in the back of the room.

“What?” Lucas asks, giving you a look.

“I do not want to get this suit wet.”

Everyone looks at each other.

“Mike, when Jane did this she was in her dress,” Dustin says, shaking her head.

“This is a nice suit!”

“You’re also a boy and can just be in your underwear,” Will says, shrugging.

“Uh…”

You blush rapidly, trying to not make eye contact with Jane.

Jane frowns at you, “What’s wrong with that?”

“Uh… nothing… I… I… g-guess…”

“When you’re done, we’ll put on the white noise from the TV just in case,” Jane says, “And here is a mask for you.”

You nod and take it from her. You turn away from everyone, wishing you could melt into the floor, hoping that Jane wasn’t watching.

Or hoping she was.

Or

Or

Fucking hell

You grit your teeth and think about anything else and then put on the blind fold. You stumble into the pool, floating.

You’re weightless.

“Good,” you hear Jane murmur, “Dustin, the noise.”

“Right.”

The static fills your ears.

Everything is quiet.

It’s as though you’re just… nowhere.

It’s only you in the world.

You breathe in and out, slowly.

“What am I supposed to be doing?” you ask.

“Try to go into the future.”

“The – what?”

“Try to go to tomorrow. Focus on tomorrow’s date. Focus on some things you think you’ll be doing tomorrow. Focus on it.”

“Oh… okay…”

You do so.

You’re surrounded by blackness.

Pitch blackness.

Emptiness.

The floor underneath your feet is water.

You’re overwhelmed, to say the least.

“Hello? Hello?!” you scream, spinning around on your heels.

“Mike, Mike, breathe,” you hear the soft voice of Jane. It surrounds you. It’s like it’s coming from the sky.

“J- Jane?”

“Mike, breathe. Keep focusing on tomorrow.”

You nod,

You focus.

You’re suddenly surrounded on all sides by your house.

You look over to see your Mom walking over to you – you’re sitting at the table.

“Alright Michael, you should really work on your homework, you have that big history test this week.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will,” you say, without really controlling yourself.

“Good good. We’re very proud of you!” she says in response.

“Thanks Mom!”

You want to be out.

You feel dizzy and completely sick to your stomach.

You force yourself to stop thinking about it.

You pull off the blindfold and struggle to sit up.

“Mike?” Jane asks, looking at you with wide eyes.

You wipe blood from your upper lip.

“I don’t know what I saw, but… I saw something.”

“I guess we just see if that happens tomorrow?” Dustin asks quietly.

“This is insane. This is completely insane. This is insane –“

“Steve, shut up!”

You look at Jane in worry and her face matches yours.

What was happening?