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
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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.
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Date: 2021-05-19 02:09 am (UTC)We can handle it. [It's almost a question.]
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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?
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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.
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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.]