[Is he in shock? He's probably in shock. Will is getting up and pulling on his coat, about to mount a rescue!! Because there are creepyass worms out there, Marshmallow is coming too.]
okay. i'm on my way. do you know where you are?
[We'll just...unpack the whole person-getting-hit-by-a-worm-launched-car thing later!]
[Jury's out on whether Nightmare Kelpie is going to help or not, but tonight has just been full of surprises.]
by the elementary school
[He'd just delivered pizza to someone on Griggs Road, he remembers that much. Then the ground had split apart, only instead of going down... he went up.]
[Nightmare Kelpie is a gentleman and a scholar! And he's weak to Will, so of course he'll at least reluctantly trot along when Will tugs on a handful of his mane, texting with the other hand.]
okay i'm coming don't lie down or fall asleep you might be concussed too
[It isn't hard to miss, once Will reaches the high school, just a couple of blocks away. There's something glowing, in the dark sky over the intersection, and as he gets closer he'll be able to see - it's Deerington Elementary, at least partially on fire, black smoke starting to billow in front of the mountain.
The fissure stretches from the torn, ragged asphalt, all the way up the school's front steps, grass and concrete split and tossed with the force from below. A disaster movie set in miniature, localized to less than a block. Somewhere inside the burning building, a shrill alarm tells an absent student body to evacuate. It's the only sound, except-
Someone coughs - once, twice - then spits. Mike is sitting on a chunk of ruined street, head between his knees; a trail of red from his nose is dripping into a puddle on the sidewalk.]
[It's not the first time that Will's seen a building burn -- not lately, not when things are falling apart on the daily. He's ridden past half a dozen burned-out husks on his way over, fingers knotted into Marshmallow's stringy, always-damp mane, trying not to see the cracks in the street, the way the concrete has split or buckled or just crumbled away into an endless black hole.
But something about it being a school, even if it's a school he's never set foot inside, makes it all seem...more real. Like watching a library or a church burn. For a moment Will is frozen, sitting upright, breath caught in his throat, watching the flames lick up into the dark sky.
The cough startles him out of it, and Will is sliding off Marshmallow's back, landing hard on one knee and having to stumble a couple times to get his balance back. The horse follows, head low, watchful for any sign of enemies. It lingers a couple feet away as Will skids into a crouch in front of Mike, reaching out and resting a shaky hand on the back of the other boy's neck.]
Hey. Hey, it's me. [That's -- a lot of blood. Well, comparatively, it's a small amount of blood, but it's still enough to make Will's stomach turn.] Can you hear me okay? [Over the fire alarm and the sound of things burning, he means.]
[Mike's head whips up; he's clearly startled out of distraction, though still disoriented enough that it takes him a moment to understand Will's question. When he does, he gives a strained approximation of a smile.]
Yeah. Sorry.
[Is this what it feels like to have finally snapped? Is this crazy? Because he keeps trying to focus in what's happened - on the car, on the bike, on Peter - but he can't. His head is full of cotton, and his thoughts are pinwheeling, and he feels closer to laughing than crying.]
Hey, careful. [Moving your head around like that is definitely not good if there's a concussion involved. Will tugs the sleeve of his sweatshirt down over his hand, reaching to press it gently under Mike's nose to try and stop the bleeding.]
Nahhh, we'd just tell him it was the town. He'd never know. [It's an attempt at teasing, at making this less horrific than it is. Hard to do when the air is thick with smoke and the ground they're sitting on keeps rumbling ominously.] Besides, you said it was a, uh. Worm?
But, like. [He spreads his hands out clumsily, as if he can at all describe the thing's size using only eight shaking fingers.] As big as a bus, at least. And it just-
[He hadn't even seen it, not until after the car settled upside down; he'd scrambled out then with seconds to spare, right into the mangle of Peter's bike. It's still there, over in front of a shattered storefront, and Mike's eyes flick carefully.]
It just came out of the ground. Right under the car.
Mike. [It's exasperation and horror, mixed up together, even though of course there's no way they could've known. Things are always weird and dangerous here, but usually the town itself doesn't suffer for it -- not like this. Not like it's falling apart.
Will presses his sleeve a little tighter, nudges Mike to look up a little so he can look at his pupils, see if they're...however they're supposed to look. He isn't sure. Are they supposed to be big or small?] You were in the car when it flipped it?
[It takes Mike a second to figure out where the disconnect happened. Of course he was in the car, Will. That's how it was going down the road when the worm happened. That's how he got his nose broken.]
That's how I got my nose broken. [The words come out slow and dumb, with a clumsy jab to the slowing drip of blood, caking above one lip.] I think it hit the wheel.
[He lets Will nudge and position him, tilting his head down to give a better look at his eyes. They're not as bad as last time, when he tumbled from a roof, though it's harder to tell in the dim light of the street.]
It was Peter, who I hit. [A thick swallow. He blinks like he can't quite comprehend his own admission.] Graham. He was on his bike.
[Will glances over at the crumpled remains of the bike, the question -- was he okay? -- dying in his throat. Of course he wasn't. Of course not. Mike would've said, he would've started with that, before any description of his own injuries. So he's probably --
Swallowing it back, the rising horror and grief and rage at how unfair it all is, Will shifts back to sit on his heels, looking around for a moment, then carefully getting to his feet.] We should -- get home. It's not safe out here. [Anymore. Was it ever really safe, or were they all lying to each other?] C'mon. [He'll stoop, reach for both of Mike's hands.]
[Letting Will take his hands, Mike heaves himself up. He's shaking more and more, and a distant voice in his head asks if it's his blood sugar, or perhaps the ground trembling. Dazed and puzzled, he looks down at his wobbling knees.]
[Winona. He remembers her -- and Waverly and Frank and Laura. The farmhouse. He remembers them, and so many others who've left. While he and Mike are still here, with the town crumbling from under them. Maybe that'll be what goes first.
He shakes himself, ducking under Mike's arm (he still fits, even though they're both taller now, stretched out and too skinny) and supporting the other boy.] Here, lean on me.
I think you told me about that once. I asked why it was bumpy. I think. [Now it's just normal -- well, it's normal when it isn't coated in half-dried blood. He can't remember how Mike looked at home, with his shorter hair and rounder face. He wonders if Mike remembers how he looks at home.] C'mon, you can ride in front of me.
[Ride because they're getting on the demon horse. Congrats. Marshmallow seems subdued, at least, kneeling down obediently and only sniffing a little at the blood on Mike's face.]
[Riding on Marshmallow is among Mike's least favorite activities, and he can already tell that it's going to be nigh impossible with his swimming vision and queasy stomach. Instead, as the horse's (??) nose prods at his cheek, he shakes his head.]
I can walk.
[He doesn't want to puke on the demon horse, who would probably in turn make his life even more of a hell than it already is. Marshmallow does allow him to weave his fingers into his swampy mane, though, giving Mike somewhat of a crutch to lean on.
It's strange, the way they've just tried to keep living their lives while the town falls away in bits and pieces. Another building Mike's seen every day for two years, ripped apart in the day's quake, and it's so easy to pass it off as a horror that will be gone with the month. But it's getting worse, every week, and it's getting harder to deny.]
... Guess no one can tell us to go back to school, now.
[Marshmallow would, in fact, make every waking moment of Mike's life an even more eldritch nightmare if he were puked on. He's not as forgiving as Billy's car. But he does walk alongside Mike, on the opposite side of Will, who will not be moved from his position as crutch-prime.
The worry is still evident on his face, poorly masked by a weak laugh as they start leaving the school behind.] Yeah. Or work, I guess. The, uh, bowling alley's gone too.
The house is still okay, though. [For now.] At least there's that? [Will's voice is pitched a little too high, a little too desperate. He'd never thought he'd be homesick for the way Deerington was, for when the monsters and the nightmares were contained to a few days a month and the rest was bizarre, mundane normalcy.
But he is. He'd give anything to go back to Mike and Brianna jumping off roofs and the three of them avoiding blood waves and moon monsters. He'd live through a thousand Octobers to have Deerington the way it was. He'd go back on the Titanic, even. The wanting of it has his chest in knots, his stomach flip-flopping, and he resorts to fussing.] Are you sure you can walk?
[It's been a running gag, pretending that the world isn't falling apart bit by bit around them. Everyday, another familiar piece crumbles, making it harder to ignore. And everyday, they plaster another smile over their fear and act like their lives aren't balanced on a precipice that's getting thinner and thinner.
Tonight, it's like an elephant between them.]
Yeah, I'm good.
[Mostly true. Though his nose still throbs and his stomach roils, he somehow escaped the crash with full mobility.]
I guess we don't really need jobs if there's nothing to spend money on. [Weakly, absurdly optimistic, the way Mike tends towards in moments of crisis. If you can't earnestly convince your friends that everything's okay, you can at least distract them with an unlikely bright spot.] We can become a bartering society. Start trading rocks, and stuff.
Okay. [Will almost says something snippy about how if Mike is fibbing, exaggerating his wellness, and he stumbles or falls, Will alone won't be able to get him back on his feet. He doesn't say it. But he almost does, feeling the words in his throat like a tangible thing.
He swallows tightly.] We never really needed the money. Not after a while. We had everything we needed. ["Had". The life they'd had a year ago -- all of them, the house crowded and noisy and brimming with warmth -- feels like another world. Like they'd somehow slipped out of a town that was dangerous, but familiar, and into something else. Deerington is still dangerous, but the familiarity is gone, replaced by vast gaps of nothingness.
Will prefers the strangeness, the rhythm of that life, a few weeks of calm, then strange things that meant hiding inside or making sure you had a weapon when you went outside. Sweeping the diner floor, riding his bike to the pizza place, the grease smell overriding the fresh, woodsy outdoors one.
He realizes he's gripping Mike's arm too tightly, tight enough that his fingers leave marks when he removes them.] Sorry.
[The grip hadn't gone unnoticed, but Mike would never have said anything about it. He knows what Will's feeling as well as he knows his own thoughts, and it feels like an ache in his chest. They've always supported each other, always quelled each other's sadness and fear. What happens now, when there's so little light left in either of them? How do you quell something that you yourself are made of?]
We still have a lot, [he finally says, after Will's grip eases.] Maybe this is just one of those bad times that'll get good again, like October.
...yeah. Maybe. [Will leans against Mike a little more, draws in a slow breath, the scent of blood and ash mixing with pizza grease.] I haven't seen any, uh. Moon monster yet. That's a plus. You still have your flame thrower and stuff, right?
[A few months ago, standing near a fake coffin at a fake wedding, someone had asked him to recall what home smelled like to him. Old home, back in Indiana, during the red-brown fall that had been his favorite time of year until 1983.
Mike can't remember when he forgot the smell of Hawkins, and replaced it with the pine trees of Maine.]
Yeah, back home. [He doesn't need to clarify which one.] Not that it's any good against half the monsters here.
[It's still home, now. They're going to go home to the others, and nobody will have disappeared, yet. That final straw hasn't come, the final crumble of everything that's become beloved, the true end. Now, Will can still grin, even if it's tight with worry, and mean it.
So he does, rounding the corners towards the house on Castle Road, big monstrous damp horse plodding along and Mike lanky and bloody beside him.] Half's still a good percentage. Burn what you can and, uh...shoot the ones you can't?
[The monstrous damp horse looks back at the noise, giving Mike a gravely disapproving look. Sorry for accidentally mocking your horse noises, Marshmallow. He will definitely, 100% do it again.]
You're the one with the real gun. That weird mountain guy just gave me a paintball gun.
[Marshmallow makes a low, rattly sort of grumble, picking up his pace now that they're within sight of the house. Time to go brood in the garage.
Will laughs, more genuinely, pausing in the light of a streetlamp to reach up, hands on either side of Mike's face, giving him a long, worried look.] Paintball's still good. Are you sure you're okay?
[A cursory glance shows Mike that his sister is already on the front porch, so the kiss he plants on Will's forehead is quick and clumsy. With his sister already about to yell at him for crashing Steve's car without a license, he's not quite ready to pile the "so I'm kind of gay a little bit" conversation on top.]
Yeah. [He tries a brighter smile, wide and assuring.] Yeah, I'm fine.
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sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2021-04-12 04:23 am (UTC)i guess my nose is maybe broken again
but yeah i'm okay
the person the worm threw the car at isn't though idk
[wow haha is this what disassociation feels like??]
no subject
Date: 2021-04-13 06:55 pm (UTC)okay.
i'm on my way.
do you know where you are?
[We'll just...unpack the whole person-getting-hit-by-a-worm-launched-car thing later!]
no subject
Date: 2021-04-17 05:44 pm (UTC)by the elementary school
[He'd just delivered pizza to someone on Griggs Road, he remembers that much. Then the ground had split apart, only instead of going down... he went up.]
no subject
Date: 2021-04-21 12:57 am (UTC)okay i'm coming
don't lie down
or fall asleep
you might be concussed too
text > action
Date: 2021-04-21 07:58 pm (UTC)i'm wide awake
[He absolutely definitely might be.]
oh ok i threw up
[It isn't hard to miss, once Will reaches the high school, just a couple of blocks away. There's something glowing, in the dark sky over the intersection, and as he gets closer he'll be able to see - it's Deerington Elementary, at least partially on fire, black smoke starting to billow in front of the mountain.
The fissure stretches from the torn, ragged asphalt, all the way up the school's front steps, grass and concrete split and tossed with the force from below. A disaster movie set in miniature, localized to less than a block. Somewhere inside the burning building, a shrill alarm tells an absent student body to evacuate. It's the only sound, except-
Someone coughs - once, twice - then spits. Mike is sitting on a chunk of ruined street, head between his knees; a trail of red from his nose is dripping into a puddle on the sidewalk.]
action
Date: 2021-04-22 04:01 am (UTC)But something about it being a school, even if it's a school he's never set foot inside, makes it all seem...more real. Like watching a library or a church burn. For a moment Will is frozen, sitting upright, breath caught in his throat, watching the flames lick up into the dark sky.
The cough startles him out of it, and Will is sliding off Marshmallow's back, landing hard on one knee and having to stumble a couple times to get his balance back. The horse follows, head low, watchful for any sign of enemies. It lingers a couple feet away as Will skids into a crouch in front of Mike, reaching out and resting a shaky hand on the back of the other boy's neck.]
Hey. Hey, it's me. [That's -- a lot of blood. Well, comparatively, it's a small amount of blood, but it's still enough to make Will's stomach turn.] Can you hear me okay? [Over the fire alarm and the sound of things burning, he means.]
no subject
Date: 2021-04-24 08:05 pm (UTC)Yeah. Sorry.
[Is this what it feels like to have finally snapped? Is this crazy? Because he keeps trying to focus in what's happened - on the car, on the bike, on Peter - but he can't. His head is full of cotton, and his thoughts are pinwheeling, and he feels closer to laughing than crying.]
Shit. Steve would kill me.
no subject
Date: 2021-04-24 11:58 pm (UTC)Nahhh, we'd just tell him it was the town. He'd never know. [It's an attempt at teasing, at making this less horrific than it is. Hard to do when the air is thick with smoke and the ground they're sitting on keeps rumbling ominously.] Besides, you said it was a, uh. Worm?
no subject
Date: 2021-04-25 01:56 am (UTC)But, like. [He spreads his hands out clumsily, as if he can at all describe the thing's size using only eight shaking fingers.] As big as a bus, at least. And it just-
[He hadn't even seen it, not until after the car settled upside down; he'd scrambled out then with seconds to spare, right into the mangle of Peter's bike. It's still there, over in front of a shattered storefront, and Mike's eyes flick carefully.]
It just came out of the ground. Right under the car.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-01 10:14 pm (UTC)Will presses his sleeve a little tighter, nudges Mike to look up a little so he can look at his pupils, see if they're...however they're supposed to look. He isn't sure. Are they supposed to be big or small?] You were in the car when it flipped it?
no subject
Date: 2021-05-02 03:33 am (UTC)That's how I got my nose broken. [The words come out slow and dumb, with a clumsy jab to the slowing drip of blood, caking above one lip.] I think it hit the wheel.
[He lets Will nudge and position him, tilting his head down to give a better look at his eyes. They're not as bad as last time, when he tumbled from a roof, though it's harder to tell in the dim light of the street.]
It was Peter, who I hit. [A thick swallow. He blinks like he can't quite comprehend his own admission.] Graham. He was on his bike.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-03 12:41 am (UTC)Swallowing it back, the rising horror and grief and rage at how unfair it all is, Will shifts back to sit on his heels, looking around for a moment, then carefully getting to his feet.] We should -- get home. It's not safe out here. [Anymore. Was it ever really safe, or were they all lying to each other?] C'mon. [He'll stoop, reach for both of Mike's hands.]
no subject
Date: 2021-05-05 03:27 am (UTC)Winona set it, last time. My nose.
[Is it the head injury, or ADHD? A real toss-up.]
Back before you were here.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-05 05:55 am (UTC)He shakes himself, ducking under Mike's arm (he still fits, even though they're both taller now, stretched out and too skinny) and supporting the other boy.] Here, lean on me.
I think you told me about that once. I asked why it was bumpy. I think. [Now it's just normal -- well, it's normal when it isn't coated in half-dried blood. He can't remember how Mike looked at home, with his shorter hair and rounder face. He wonders if Mike remembers how he looks at home.] C'mon, you can ride in front of me.
[Ride because they're getting on the demon horse. Congrats. Marshmallow seems subdued, at least, kneeling down obediently and only sniffing a little at the blood on Mike's face.]
wynonna* smh
Date: 2021-05-06 05:43 pm (UTC)I can walk.
[He doesn't want to puke on the demon horse, who would probably in turn make his life even more of a hell than it already is. Marshmallow does allow him to weave his fingers into his swampy mane, though, giving Mike somewhat of a crutch to lean on.
It's strange, the way they've just tried to keep living their lives while the town falls away in bits and pieces. Another building Mike's seen every day for two years, ripped apart in the day's quake, and it's so easy to pass it off as a horror that will be gone with the month. But it's getting worse, every week, and it's getting harder to deny.]
... Guess no one can tell us to go back to school, now.
i get u i get u
Date: 2021-05-07 06:37 am (UTC)The worry is still evident on his face, poorly masked by a weak laugh as they start leaving the school behind.] Yeah. Or work, I guess. The, uh, bowling alley's gone too.
The house is still okay, though. [For now.] At least there's that? [Will's voice is pitched a little too high, a little too desperate. He'd never thought he'd be homesick for the way Deerington was, for when the monsters and the nightmares were contained to a few days a month and the rest was bizarre, mundane normalcy.
But he is. He'd give anything to go back to Mike and Brianna jumping off roofs and the three of them avoiding blood waves and moon monsters. He'd live through a thousand Octobers to have Deerington the way it was. He'd go back on the Titanic, even. The wanting of it has his chest in knots, his stomach flip-flopping, and he resorts to fussing.] Are you sure you can walk?
no subject
Date: 2021-05-12 04:17 am (UTC)Tonight, it's like an elephant between them.]
Yeah, I'm good.
[Mostly true. Though his nose still throbs and his stomach roils, he somehow escaped the crash with full mobility.]
I guess we don't really need jobs if there's nothing to spend money on. [Weakly, absurdly optimistic, the way Mike tends towards in moments of crisis. If you can't earnestly convince your friends that everything's okay, you can at least distract them with an unlikely bright spot.] We can become a bartering society. Start trading rocks, and stuff.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-15 01:34 am (UTC)He swallows tightly.] We never really needed the money. Not after a while. We had everything we needed. ["Had". The life they'd had a year ago -- all of them, the house crowded and noisy and brimming with warmth -- feels like another world. Like they'd somehow slipped out of a town that was dangerous, but familiar, and into something else. Deerington is still dangerous, but the familiarity is gone, replaced by vast gaps of nothingness.
Will prefers the strangeness, the rhythm of that life, a few weeks of calm, then strange things that meant hiding inside or making sure you had a weapon when you went outside. Sweeping the diner floor, riding his bike to the pizza place, the grease smell overriding the fresh, woodsy outdoors one.
He realizes he's gripping Mike's arm too tightly, tight enough that his fingers leave marks when he removes them.] Sorry.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-17 08:21 pm (UTC)We still have a lot, [he finally says, after Will's grip eases.] Maybe this is just one of those bad times that'll get good again, like October.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-19 02:09 am (UTC)We can handle it. [It's almost a question.]
no subject
Date: 2021-05-21 04:59 am (UTC)Mike can't remember when he forgot the smell of Hawkins, and replaced it with the pine trees of Maine.]
Yeah, back home. [He doesn't need to clarify which one.] Not that it's any good against half the monsters here.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-22 05:45 am (UTC)So he does, rounding the corners towards the house on Castle Road, big monstrous damp horse plodding along and Mike lanky and bloody beside him.] Half's still a good percentage. Burn what you can and, uh...shoot the ones you can't?
no subject
Date: 2021-05-25 03:55 am (UTC)[The monstrous damp horse looks back at the noise, giving Mike a gravely disapproving look. Sorry for accidentally mocking your horse noises, Marshmallow. He will definitely, 100% do it again.]
You're the one with the real gun. That weird mountain guy just gave me a paintball gun.
no subject
Date: 2021-05-28 05:10 am (UTC)Will laughs, more genuinely, pausing in the light of a streetlamp to reach up, hands on either side of Mike's face, giving him a long, worried look.] Paintball's still good. Are you sure you're okay?
no subject
Date: 2021-05-30 06:33 pm (UTC)Yeah. [He tries a brighter smile, wide and assuring.] Yeah, I'm fine.
[Another glance at the house, and a pause.]
At least 'til Nancy's through with me.
(no subject)
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