[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.
[Will glances over at the porch to see Nancy with her hands on her hips, radiating a very Joyce-Byers-esque level of concern, and he winces a little, stepping carefully back into the just-friends sort of close proximity.]
Yeah, it was nice knowing you. I'll remember you fondly. [Marshmallow plods back to nudge under Will's hand, clearly ready to go back into the garage and feast on the souls of the innocent.]
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sforzinda
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
Date: 2021-05-31 05:29 am (UTC)Yeah, it was nice knowing you. I'll remember you fondly. [Marshmallow plods back to nudge under Will's hand, clearly ready to go back into the garage and feast on the souls of the innocent.]