Welcome home
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Chapter 5
They decide to go to a cafe; the place is nice and cozy, and Izuku will have the opportunity to ask questions to every single one in order to get all the details about the mission; he wants to know how they used their quirks and why they decided to use them that way.
The tables have bench cushions around; Katsuki and Izuku sit on one and Uraraka, Hagakure and Todoroki on the one in front.
Even though he tells himself to calm down, Izuku can't help it and starts asking about the rescue. He listens with a fascinated smile on his face as Hagakure explains how she used her quirk to blind the villain when he tried to attack them.
Then he starts rambling about her quirk for a while, all the data he has gathered about her during the time they have met each other, she seems interested or at least he hopes so. He's too focused he doesn't even realize Uraraka is looking at something with amusement until she makes a gesture with her hand towards it.
Izuku turns around, only to find Katsuki with a hand on his chin, quietly staring at him with a fond smile on his face.
"What?"
Katsuki looks a little bit flustered when he notices Izuku's confusion, but he doesn't say anything.
"Midoriya, do you want something to eat?"
"Right!" He says, embarrassed. He looks back at Todoroki as his cheeks turn slightly pink. "Sorry for rambling! You must be hungry!"
"It's alright, I don't mind," the pro hero with mismatched hair assures him. "Actually, everything you say is fascinating. I feel like I'm learning a lot about quirks after listening to you."
Izuku can feel the moment his face turns even more red; Katsuki hisses next to him. When he looks at him again, he realizes he's get irritated. He must be starving too.
"What do you want to eat? I'll get it for you."
"Uhh..." Before Izuku can answer Todoroki's question, Katsuki is already getting up while glaring at the other pro hero.
"Don't bother. I always get Izuku's food."
"Well, I want a strawberry churro and Uraraka wants a croissant. Thanks for asking! Yes, we both are here too, in case you have forgotten!" Hagakure cuts in, half irritated half amused at the situation.
"Sorry! I'll go get them for you!" Izuku says.
"Not you, darling! Sit down!"
However, no matter how much Uraraka insists, Izuku ends up in the line with Katsuki and Todoroki.
"Midoriya."
Katsuki growls as a warning, but Todoroki ignores him completely.
"I'd like you to consider working at Endeavor's agency instead."
That definitely wasn't something Izuku expected to come out of Todoroki's mouth.
"I was really impressed by your performance these last two days; you're really smart and I think you'd be a great asset for our agency."
"Oh, fuck off!"
"Kacchan, please," Izuku has to grab the blond pro hero's arm in order to calm him down a bit. Then, when his friend looks less murderous, he turns towards Todoroki again: "I appreciate the offer, but I'm really happy where I am."
"Take that, half and half!"
Rolling his eyes, Izuku is glad they're next in the line. It's a nice distraction. Perhaps food is what everyone needs to feel less irritated.
"What happened?" Uraraka asks, grabbing her croissant and the coffee Izuku decided to buy for her. "I was watching you from here and Bakugo got more grumpy than usual."
"Half and half here wants to steal Izuku from m–us!"
"What do you mean?" Hagakure asks, sounding curious already. By the time Todoroki explains, even the women get slightly annoyed.
"No!" Uraraka huffs, grabbing one of Izuku's hands in hers. "Get your own green bean! This one is ours!"
They keep playfully scolding him for it and even he starts smiling at them. However, Katsuki moves closer to Izuku until their legs are pressing together even though there's plenty of space on his side.
After a while, the four pro heroes start talking about their time in the UA; Izuku can't help but laugh at all the things they tell him about Katsuki.
"They had to put a muzzle on him because he was so angry at Todoroki for not trying harder at the sports festival!" Hagakure chuckles, while Katsuki narrows his eyes at her.
"He even won, but didn't look happy with the results!" Uraraka adds, laughing along with Hagakure.
"He probably thought he didn't deserve it," Izuku cuts in. "That's why he was so mad."
He looks up at the blond pro hero before stroking his cheek; Katsuki closes his eyes and leans into the touch, content.
"It's alright, Kacchan. You did your best!"
"I didn't," Todoroki says then, getting Izuku's attention again. "But that's because I didn't truly accept myself back then."
"But now you do, right?" Izuku asks, smiling kindly at him.
"Now I do."
***
As they sit back in Katsuki's car, Izuku realizes that he's still frowning. Probably because Todoroki asked Izuku to think about his offer.
"I'm not going to work at Endeavor's," Izuku assures him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
He relaxes somewhat before looking back at the green haired man with an intense expression on his face; Katsuki does that a lot lately and he has no idea what he's thinking about.
"Stay with me tonight."
"Okay, Kacchan," he says, smiling at him softly. The truth is that he still wants to spend a little bit more time with his friend after what happened.
But staying is a mistake because Izuku likes Katsuki's apartment; it feels like home even though it shouldn't.
The next days he barely stays at his own place and every time he goes back to it, it feels colder and less like the cozy apartment he once acquired.
Katsuki basically gives him one of the guest's rooms; he has a closet for himself in which he keeps a few clothes because he also stays during work days and it's more "convenient" that way.
Somedays, Izuku feels like he's fooling himself.
There's green tea now in Katsuki's kitchen, chocolate, and blueberries on the fridge that Izuku makes disappear quickly.
"You seriously don't want the last bit of honey?" Izuku asks, looking tempted to pour it all over his bread, but he wants to offer it to Katsuki first. He doesn't think he has ever seen him touch the bottle, but he's not there ALL the time.
"I don't like sweet food," Katsuki says from the couch, browsing through Netflix's catalog, looking for a good horror movie.
"But you do like honey!" Izuku argues. "I mean, you bought this..."
That bottle was there before Izuku started staying in that apartment a few times a week.
"I bought it for you," the pro hero says casually, already selecting a movie. The thumbnail looks like it'll give Izuku nightmares.
He looks back at the now empty bottle, feeling warm inside out of the sudden. He smiles, thinking about all the things Katsuki does for him...
"Well, I'll go back to my room now!"
"None of that, nerd!" Katsuki turns around, looking at him over the back of the couch. "You promised!"
"Fine!" Izuku pouts, getting ready to close his eyes. "But if you complain about me clinging to you, I'll leave, okay?"
Being as close as possible to Katsuki is the only thing that makes him feel safe when they watch those kind of movies.
Katsuki snorts.
"Have I ever complained about that?"
"No, but just in case," Izuku mumbles before sitting right next to him, even though there's a lot of space on the couch. "I don't know why you want me here, to be honest. All I do is cover my eyes, gasp and wrap myself around you every time. Sometimes, I even end up on your lap! That can't be pleasant for you!"
Katsuki's smirk makes his eyes glimmer with amusement.
"That is actually very pleasant for me. You have no idea."
It must be because he enjoys Izuku's suffering... his friend is still a jerk sometimes. But he buys a lot of sweets for him and lets Izuku cuddle him so he'll forgive him for that eventually.
To no one's surprise, Izuku ends up covering his eyes and Katsuki's space.
The pro hero looks like he's having the time of his life, but he's kind enough to put a hand over Izuku's shoulders and nuzzle against his green curls to calm him down.
He falls asleep like that but wakes up on his bed in the morning.
***
"Trying a new style?" One of his coworkers asks as a form of greeting. "Well, you look good with everything, Midoriya!"
"Isn't that too big for you though?" Another one says, frowning a bit.
Some days, he wishes he didn't blush that easily; it makes him look like he's hiding something.
"Kacchan gave it to me," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. It's not his fault that Katsuki's clothes are very comfortable; it's true that wearing black is not Izuku's style, but he likes the fact that the hoodie feels like it's hugging him.
He's not sure if that's completely true, though, because most of the time is just Izuku "stealing" things from him that the pro hero ends up giving him.
"I see," the man in front of him grins in a way Izuku doesn't like. There's nothing to "see" there.
He runs back to his station then.
An hour later, he decides to pay a visit to Hatsume. He wants to ask about Kaminari's gear; something happened during his latest mission and it ended up damaged, but Izuku doesn't understand what prompted it to act the way it did. And he needs to understand in order to write a report about it.
But he's also very curious.
Right outside Hatsume's department, Izuku remembers why other people are not allowed there unless they let them know they're coming beforehand.
Izuku forgot to do that.
"Not again!" He manages to hear someone complaining before Hatsume laughs.
"It's alright! We always learn from our mistakes," she says right before something inside explodes and sends Izuku backwards.
There's smoke everywhere; his ears start ringing a bit, but he realizes he's alright, although his back hurts.
"Are you okay, Midoriya?" Hatsume asks, leaning over him. "You shouldn't be here."
He gets that now. At least the people from support are completely fine, mostly because they wear special clothes all the time. In case something like that happens.
"Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yes, don't worry!"
"Alright, then let me turn off the alarm in your device before he comes running here..."
Honestly, Izuku had forgotten his pretty necklace was a security device. But now as he looks down he sees a red dot in the middle of the X.
"IZUKU!"
"Too late," Hatsume mumbles, right before turning it off. She moves away from Izuku to give room for Dynamight to fret over him.
"I'm fine, Kacchan, I promise," he assures him as he manages to sit.
Katsuki kneels on the floor next to him and Izuku notices his hero suit; it looks clean and impeccable, which means he was about to go out.
His red eyes start scanning his body from head to toe, desperately looking for wounds.
"Where does it hurt?" He asks, touching Izuku's back of the head with his fingertips. When the green haired man flinches, the pro hero's eyes lose their shine. "I'll take you to the infirmary."
"Kacchan, wait!"
Katsuki growls. He's obviously still in distress, and Izuku can't have that. Pretending no one is watching, he cradles his friend's face and rubs their noses together.
The fear he notices in his eyes shocks Izuku for a moment.
"I'm fine, Kacchan," he whispers, smiling softly at him. "I promise."
He watches as the blond's broad shoulders lose some of their tension. His arms wrap around Izuku's completely before he presses his lips against one of his freckled cheeks gently. After he takes a deep breath, he does the same against the other.
Izuku's heart skips a beat.
"Alright! Let's go back to work, everybody!" Hatsume says, clapping her hands together to get her workers' attention. "There's nothing to see here!"
As the smoke clears, Izuku turns as red as a strawberry.
Katsuki doesn't seem to care about having an audience or not.
"When I heard the alarm, I panicked," he admits, pointing at a bracelet on his right wrist. Izuku had thought all this time it was a simple accessory.
"I'm fine," he repeats, mostly because his own heartbeat doesn't let him think that much.
Katsuki leans to give him a kiss on the forehead, making even more difficult for Izuku to actually focus.
"Let me take you to the infirmary anyway. Please, it'll help me feel better."
"Okay, Kacchan."
As the doctor explains to them both that Izuku doesn't have a concussion and the incident only got him a few bruises, he realizes, as he remembers Katsuki's soft kisses on his face that me might have feelings for his best friend.
And that could be a problem.
***
Perhaps the best thing is to stop staying with Katsuki; Izuku's feelings will only grow if he keeps spending that much time with his friend.
It's a good thing he never moved in with him like Katsuki wanted. He'd be kicked out immediately if the pro hero found out about Izuku's crush on him.
Except that it doesn't feel like a simple crush.
As they both walk down the stairs, Izuku takes a deep breath and thinks about an excuse to stay at his own apartment this time.
"Here, take this, nerd," Katsuki stops for a moment to give him a key. "This is just in case you need it, but you know you only have to type the code to get in."
A copy of Katsuki's apartment door key. And he's going to give him the code too.
"It's 0715," the pro hero says in a whisper. His face turns so red Izuku worries about him for a moment. "So when... I'm on late night patrol you can get in without me and stay there."
"Oh, that'll be easy to remember!" He says, chuckling. His friend probably hasn't even realized what those numbers mean. "It's like my birthday! What a coincidence!"
Katsuki chokes on air, blush spreading down his neck. Maybe he's getting sick or something...
"I know you are really smart, but sometimes you make me question your intelligence."
"Kacchan, that's so mean!" Izuku tries to look offended, but he fails miserably. Besides, his mind is preoccupied with something else.
When they're inside Katsuki's car. Izuku takes a deep breath.
"Take me to my apartment, please."
"Why? Did you forget something?"
"No... it's just," he bites his bottom lip before continuing: "I mean... I live there after all, I should stay in my own apartment."
"Or you can finally move in with me."
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Katsuki turns his head towards him; good thing he hasn't started the car yet.
"Why not? Does something in my apartment bother you? We can redecorate it if you want. I just bought you a display cabinet to put your ridiculous All Might figure collection. It was a surprise, by the way. So pretend to be surprised when it finally arrives."
Katsuki is making it really difficult for Izuku not to fall in love with him.
"Uhh... it's..." Izuku blinks as his eyes start getting wet.
"What is it, Izuku? Talk to me. You know you can tell me anything," he says; he's never heard him speak that softly to him. His thumbs wipe his tears off before he presses his forehead against the sweet nerd's.
Katsuki deserves to know so he can decide for himself if he wants to keep some distance between them from now on.
It'll break Izuku's heart, but he can handle it.
"Listen, Kacchan, don't freak out, but I think I have f-feelings for you. So it'll be better if we–"
"Wow," Katsuki chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really are an idiot, Izuku."
"This is not funny, Kacchan! I'm trying to tell you something important!"
"So am I!" He smiles, red eyes glimmering with unrestrained happiness. He cradles Izuku's confused face, before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "Izuku. I am in love with you."
"What?" He blinks, getting slightly dizzy as Katsuki keeps pressing their lips together. Kisses pressed against his face as he turns so pink his freckles disappear momentarily.
"I have never been subtle about my devotion to you," Katsuki smirks, enjoying the fact that Izuku gets so flustered after being kissed to speak properly. "That's why everyone in the agency thinks we're dating. Yes, I know about those rumors too, the only difference is that I have never shut them down."
"But why you never told me anything?"
Katsuki's smile vanishes for a moment and Izuku wants to take the question back immediately.
"I thought you didn't love me the way I did."
This time it's Izuku the one who initiates their kiss, although Katsuki is the one in control. He smiles against his lips before taking his time to explore Izuku's mouth.
"Move in with me, Izuku."
"I'd love to, Kacchan."
***
A lot of things have changed in a month; Izuku finally left his old apartment and is now living with Katsuki.
And sleeping on his bed too.
Waving a hand in front of his face to stop himself from blushing, Izuku focuses on the task at hand.
He has practiced that curry recipe a lot, torturing his friends in the process, although Todoroki claims that the first time was perfect.
Uraraka couldn't even finish it, Kirishima gave him a thumbs up, but didn't look like he was enjoying it.
However, the last one was a success, which means he's ready to make it for his boyfriend.
He wants to surprise Katsuki this time; he's the one who cooks for them and he knows he does it gladly, but Izuku wants to show him he can make an effort too.
A loud sigh escapes from his lips when he finishes just in time for the door to open.
"I'm home, Izuku!"
He rushes towards the entrance because that's one of his favorite parts of living with Katsuki, that he gets to greet him in his own home.
In their own home, and wants to do that for the rest of their lives.
The realization hits him by surprise, and both Izuku and Katsuki just stand there, frozen, staring into each other's eyes like they know exactly what they're both thinking.
"You look cute with that apron," Katsuki breathes deeply, as if he had forgotten how to and pulls Izuku into a tight hug. "Is it too soon to ask you to marry me?"
"It's us," he whispers back, trying not to cry. "We have never been a conventional couple to begin with. It's fine."
"Is that a yes?"
"It is."
After a long kiss, Izuku pushes his boyfriend away a bit, chuckling when Katsuki chases his lips desperately and pouts when he keeps turning his head away.
"Come on, nerd! Just one more!"
"Wait, I need to tell you something first."
"What is it?"
"Welcome home, Kacchan!"
Katsuki rolls his eyes, but the glimmer in them and the wide smile on his lips tell Izuku that he's just as happy to hear that as Izuku is to say it.
***
Thank you so much for reading this story!
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letters that i can never send
words: 25,571
Chrissy/Tina | Teen and Up Audiences | POV Tina | Ghost Chrissy Cunningham | Letters | Right Person Wrong Time | Unhappy Ending
beyond excited to get to share my fic for @sapphicstevents' stranger things sapphic mini bang!! writing it definitely fought me for a while but i'm really proud of this fic.
so here's the first chapter and a cover i threw together to post it with! the whole fic is up on ao3 here, and @hullomoon has been amazing and created a podfic of the work for anyone interested in listening <3
---
Chapter 1 : A Pack Of Green Scrunchies
words: 5,739
June 20th, 1986
Dear Chrissy,
I wish I had known you before everything went mad.
I think I told you that before, but I mean it now more than I meant it then. It feels so crazy to think that we went through school walking past each other in the halls and not even glancing in each other’s direction. I know that I did the same thing to other kids but it still feels impossible.
My mom took me out to the mall the other day—there’s a mall in this town, not like the destroyed one in Hawkins. It’s full of people and stores and it's loud. I didn’t like it. I always used to find it annoying how quiet Hawkins was sometimes, but I hate how loud it is here. There’s too many people talking and smiling and I can’t see them without thinking about how oblivious I was before I met you.
They were selling scrunchies in one of the stores. My mom was looking for a new purse but I stopped to look at them instead. I bought a pack of green ones because they made me think of you. I wonder if that’s what you would smell like; cotton fabric and lingering perfume from my wrist.
I miss you.
Tina.
—
The lights in the hospital waiting room hum with an electric static. Even under all the anxious chatter and background noise of the hospital, it’s the only thing Tina can hear. Well, that and the fading ringing in her ears.
Her hands clench and unclench around the hem of her shirt as she watches the minutes tick by. Beside her, her dad’s leg bounces up and down. She’s not sure if he’s aware of her watching him. The man stares ahead down the crowded hall through the chaos as if her mother will suddenly appear there, good as new.
Tina doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and entwines their fingers, letting out a sigh of relief as her father squeezes her hand back. She needs his strength to lean on. It doesn’t matter that, rationally, Tina knows her mother’s injuries from the earthquake were far from the most severe that came through those hospital doors today.
She’s never been more scared than she was when her dad came stumbling out of the rubble, shirt bloodied and with her mom’s arm over his shoulder to support her weight. Tina had been so frantic that she can’t even remember if her mother had been conscious at that point. She was out cold during the drive to the hospital, though; the sounds of ambulances and firetrucks and police cars responding to the destruction weren’t even enough to break her from her state. Her father had somehow remained stoic then, too.
Thankfully, it’s not too much longer before a nurse lets them visit her mom. After hours of waiting, they’re more than ready to see how she’s doing.
With all the trouble caused during the disaster, her mom is crammed into a room with other people, separated only by a flimsy curtain. Around them, the relieved reconciliation of other patients and their families fade into the background as Tina reaches her mother’s side and grasps at her hand where it lays atop her blankets.
IVs poke into her skin and wires trail off to monitors she doesn’t even begin to want to look at. Instead, Tina focuses her gaze on her mom’s weary face. She looks tired, eyes rimmed with dark circles that are only accentuated by the pale colouring of her skin. But she seems okay, all things considered, and Tina sighs out in a relieved whoosh of breath.
The nurse goes over her mom’s condition with her dad, but Tina hardly takes in a word—the moment the nurse confirms that her mom will be okay, she tunes her out entirely. Instead, Tina drinks in the sight of her mom, brushing a careful thumb over her scraped knuckles and almost tearing up when her mom gives her a small smile in return.
Eventually, the nurse hurries off again and Tina’s dad slumps into a chair beside the bed. Tina barely glances his way, too scared to look away from her mom, convinced that if she so much as takes her eyes off her, something terrible will happen again.
“Tina,” her mom sighs. “I’m okay. You don’t need to look so worried.”
Tina shakes her head.
“I was so scared,” she manages, voice cracking under the tears she spent so long suppressing. They finally rush down her face in a flood of emotion, tasting salty where they converge in the corners of her mouth.
“Oh, baby,” her mom says, voice softening. “It’s going to be okay now, okay? Why don’t you go and get some rest, you look exhausted.”
Tina can’t help but laugh at that, an ironic, choking thing. “I look exhausted?”
“Well,” her mom smiles before shifting slightly and doing her best to smother a wince. “I’m already laying down and getting rest. I’m more worried about you.”
Guilt stabs Tina’s heart like a blade. Her mom’s the one in a hospital bed, with doctors and nurses hovering around outside to help if needed, and yet Tina’s the one acting like the world’s weighing down on her shoulders. It’s shameful in its own way.
Tina always thought she was strong enough to be her parents’ equal. She did well enough in school and had plenty of friends; her parents saw how grown up she was and even helped her plan her Halloween parties; her mom told her everything—every annoying thing someone at work said, every snippy little complaint about her dad forgetting to hang the washing out…
And here she is now. Comforting Tina like she’s a little kid in need of a nap and not a seventeen-year-old who should be better than this. So, she shakes her head, plastering on a smile even as her eyes sting with another wave of tears and, admittedly, exhaustion.
Before she can put up much protest, her dad pipes up to agree with her mom. It doesn’t leave enough room for anything more than Tina going along with what they want. Her dad almost follows before he hesitates, catching her mom’s eye. She nods back at him.
“Why don’t you see about finding some dinner for us two? I won’t be far behind you, I just need to have a talk with your mom.”
What is Tina supposed to do about that other than leave? She’s obligated to listen to her parents, even if she wants to stay. Besides, she’s sure she’ll be visiting her mom as often as she can until she’s discharged.
So, it’s fine. All this is fine.
When she gets to the door, Tina turns and looks back at her parents one last time. With all the other people talking in the room, she can’t make out what her parents are discussing. What she can make out is the way her father’s face pinches into a concerned frown.
Whatever it is they wanted to talk over without her must be serious. Resigned, Tina sets off in search of the cafeteria. It feels strange, pushing on through crowds of the distraught and the injured. Against her better judgement, her eyes catch and linger on the horror around her.
Nothing will ever be the same after this, not in Hawkins at least. Too much bad has happened, too much to even let herself think about.
By the time her dad finds her in the cafeteria that evening, the dinner that Tina bought them has long since gone cold.
—
School doesn’t reopen until a week later—a week filled with funerals and clean up and searching for anyone still buried under the rubble. During that time, Tina recovers what she can from her trashed house to cram into some other girl’s bedroom. She should probably count her lucky stars that its usual inhabitant left for college a year ago, otherwise she would be knocking elbows in this little space—seemingly so much smaller than her own room was.
She longs for home: for her corkboard of polaroids of herself and her friends, for each marker line creeping up her door frame dedicated to a year of her life, for her fuzzy blue blanket, and for so many more little comforts that she had taken for granted. Staying here, in someone else’s bedroom while her dad stays on the pull-out downstairs, makes her feel strangely like a jigsaw piece jammed into the wrong puzzle.
There’s nothing to be done about that, with the roof of her house half-collapsed it’s not like they have much choice other than this. She is grateful that her dad’s work friend—Mr. Daniels—took them in, but that doesn’t stop her longing for what she’s lost.
Returning to class brings back none of the normality she longs for, either. Sure, the cracks in the road outside have been hastily paved over for the most part and the classrooms have been deemed safe to return to despite whatever state the earthquake had left them in, but everything has so clearly shifted…
All Tina sees, everywhere she looks, are the empty seats. The ones from kids whose families fled the town are one thing, one type of grief for the friends she’s not sure she’ll ever see again. The rest are something else entirely, vacant seats that will never be filled; those seats offer no question to their absence in Tina’s life.
So far, she has been to eight funerals. Three of them were some of her best friends. She didn’t sleep the nights after any of those. After the last one, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to attend any more; it turns out that there’s only so many bodies you can handle saying goodbye to within such a short period of time.
Mr. Clarke clears his throat, trying to recapture the forlorn attention of the room. Even he can’t seem to muster a genuine smile so Tina doesn’t know how he expects the students to care about any of this. Honestly, she’s surprised the school has even bothered swapping teachers to fill in for staff absences with how little chance they have at passing their exams after all this. If their grief wasn’t enough, having a teacher so clearly unprepared to deal with older kids isn’t going to help them learn at all.
She remembers Mr. Clarke from middle school and almost, very briefly, feels bad for thinking poorly of him. He’d been a nice enough teacher. She’s sure he’s still nice enough, but she just doesn’t have it in her to care about stuff like that anymore. Not after everything. She’s not sure how she fits into this new, broken version of Hawkins; how the hell should she be able to care about how everyone else fits in?
Slowly, the eyes of the class do raise to the man where he stands, squirming at the front of the room, backdropped by the chalkboard covered in scrawled science Tina hasn’t understood a word of. She can’t help but think that their usual teacher would have explained it in a way that made so much more sense to her.
She doesn’t know if that teacher is one of the leavers or worse.
Everyone sits quietly as Mr. Clarke stumbles his way through telling them about the commemorative assembly that is going to be held in the gym. Both schools will be coming together in a few days time to remember their lost friends, or at least that’s the plan.
Silence hangs in the air for another excruciating moment. Then the whispering finally begins. Names get thrown around, ones Tina is sure must belong to the dead.
“Jason,” someone whispers.
“Carol,” says another.
“Nicole—”
The whispering gets cut off abruptly by the scraping of a chair as it’s shoved out from under its desk. Some kid launches himself to his feet and stalks out of the room, eyes red-rimmed. Behind him, the classroom door slams shut on a spluttering Mr. Clarke.
Whispers start up again in the wake of his sudden departure. This time, Tina tunes them out. Instead, she sets her thoughts adrift, steering away from anything too dour to think on. She doesn’t want to deal with this today. They’ve only been back at school for a day.
She isn’t ready for this yet. It doesn’t feel like there has been nearly enough time for any of them to come to terms with this. How the hell are they going to get through these last two months of school and—
“Tina!”
Blinking back to her senses, Tina looks up, across the lunch table and to whoever called her name. It’s Vicki, looking at her with wide, concerned eyes. She probably should be concerned, Tina can only vaguely recall walking to the cafeteria, she’d been so trapped in her own mind.
“Sorry, what did you say?” she asks.
It’s just the two of them, perched on the edge of a sparsely populated table. Their group used to be a lot bigger.
“I—” Vicki starts, hesitates, and then leverages a painfully forced smile onto her face. “I asked if you figured out what you wanted to do at college yet.”
She wants to wince, to cringe away from the inane topic. It makes her feel sick to pretend that everything is normal. People died, other people got hurt, the town is a mess. Why would they be worrying about stuff like this as if it means anything at all anymore?
“I don’t know. With my mom in the hospital everything’s changed. I haven’t had time to think about it.”
Vicki squirms uncomfortably at her confrontational tone, looking chastised. It makes her deflate a little, feeling suddenly very cruel. Just because Tina doesn’t know how to play at being normal, doesn’t mean she has to be such an ass to her friend over it. She still cares about her and being a bitch is only going to drive a wedge between them. It’s not like she has many friends left after everything, either.
Her hands tremble in her lap and she shakes them out as if that might banish some of her simmering nerves. It doesn’t. With a tense kind of control, Tina pushes up to her feet. Vicki’s eyes swivel up to her, surprised by the abrupt shift.
“Bathroom,” Tina chokes out, trying to tamper down the frustration in her voice.
“Tina…” Vicki starts but Tina is already walking away.
The lighting in the bathroom is dingy and off-putting, and yet the electric buzzing of those fluorescents still puts her in mind of sterile hospital walls. Her mom’s been making a great recovery, she reminds herself. She’ll be home before she knows it. Maybe then everything will start going back to normal.
The porcelain basin of the sink stares, glaringly white up at her as she leans over, splashing her face with metallic-tasting water from the old taps. Her ragged breaths send speckles of water back into it as it drips in trails down her face. She’s probably smudged her makeup now, and it didn’t even help at all.
With a choked sob, Tina turns her face upwards, meeting the paled expression of her reflection; eyes wide, droplets of water clinging to mascara-tinted lashes. But that’s not all she sees.
A sick feeling of horror settles deep in her stomach as she notices something from the corner of her eye—something hovering behind her, in the corner of the bathroom. The room had been empty when she came in. Heart hammering, startled by being snuck up on, Tina whirls around to see—
Nothing.
Just an empty, dingy, school bathroom. The green doors of toilet stalls stare back at her impassively as she clutches a hand to her chest, willing her racing pulse to settle.
It was nothing. It was her mind playing tricks on her. It had to be nothing. Because if not, how could she explain that fleeting glimpse of the ghost of Chrissy Cunningham?
—
Tina’s pen taps restlessly against the Daniels’ kitchen table, the only sound in the eerily silent house.
Sharing a living space with another family comes with all the chaos one would expect, with each of their routines clashing loudly and incompatibly as they stumble around each other each morning and night. And yet the quiet moments like this are almost worse, when everyone is out working or visiting the hospital or whatever else it is these people do. Aside from Tina, it’s empty. Abandoned, almost, like the rest of this god-forsaken ghost town.
She scratches a frustrated line through her pitiful homework attempt and pushes it away across the table, out of sight and out of mind as she stares distractedly out the window. The chair she sits on creaks as she leans to the side, trying to look out into the street. Usually at this time of the evening, kids would be running around, excited and playing in the warm spring air. Usually parents would be seen and heard, trying to cajole their kids inside for whatever they had cooked up or ordered in for dinner.
Tonight, there is nothing but a creeping sunset that paints the sky a dull pink, like drops of blood diluted in a lake of blue. There is no one finding time to play, and no one enjoying a peaceful evening, and Tina’s parents aren’t here. It’s just her, alone with her anxious mind.
She should be at the hospital, trying her best to be there for her dad and checking in on her mom. But going there again and again felt like poisoning herself, losing herself in worry that would set her heart pounding and mind spiralling. It doesn’t matter to her scared brain that she knows her mom is doing much better, she still can’t help but feel sick with worry.
And she’s so tired. It makes visiting her mom so difficult because her mom gives her this pitiful, concerned look whenever she sees her like this. Tina just can’t take that; being a burden to her parents instead of a place of support. They have nothing to be worried about, really. It— She’s just tired…
She can’t sleep with worrying about if something happened to her mom in the night, or if another earthquake might come to completely level this damn town. And what’s more, her mind hasn’t been able to stray far from the thought of what she saw—or what she thinks she saw—in that damn bathroom. Any time her mind has a chance to wander, her thoughts get inevitably dragged back to that sight.
She had only glimpsed her for a fleeting moment but that had been enough. Enough to see the shape of blood splatters on her cheer uniform and the inhuman pallor of her skin… Now, every sound—every creaking shift of this unfamiliar house, every car driving by, every sudden noise—leaves her jumping, expecting to see something horrific around her as if she’s being tormented by some twisted apparition. She hates it.
She should know better than this, she doesn’t even believe in ghosts! Whatever she saw must just be a trick of the mind. And yet.
With a frustrated groan, Tina pushes her chair out from the table and stands. Sitting around like this is doing her no good, either. It’s like she can’t escape any of this worry for even a second. Or, at least, she can’t when crammed into too-small rooms that have no space for the shape of her grief.
Her loaned keys chime against each other as she snatches them from the countertop. She just needs to get out of the house, walk around and clear her head. Maybe then all this anxiety can start to dissipate and the memory of that hallucination will fade.
Locking the door behind her, Tina wanders off in whatever direction her feet decide to take her.
The air is clear outside and she hopes that might ease some of the tension that she has been holding, coiled and aching, within her. It’s hard to remember that she doesn’t need to be prepared for something awful to happen, because chances are nothing will.
She wishes she believed that.
Every time she blinks back to awareness, she finds herself on a different stretch of road that she can’t recall making the conscious choice to head to. This walk clearly isn’t doing anything for her. Clear her mind? What a ridiculous idea. How the hell could a place as fucked up as Hawkins bring her any relief, no matter where she might go or what she might do? It’s like the only thing her body knows how to do here anymore is to run on autopilot—to keep her body moving as her thoughts keep on spiralling.
She stills, taking a frustrated breath and at least trying to keep track of where she’s ended up. Her eyes scan her surroundings, taking note of how the efforts to fix up the town haven't reached this far yet, great deep cracks still clear and precariously crisscrossing the roads, splitting the asphalt open to reveal the exposed bowels of the earth.
It’s not something she’s that surprised by. Ahead of her, the road turns off into the trailer park. It makes sense that no one has prioritised fixing up things around here. With the abandoned yellow streamers of police tape, catching and glinting in the golden hour, it’s only too easy to remember what happened here all too recently.
Tina cringes at the sight of them, dancing in the gentle breeze like they don’t know what they mean. Like they don’t know a girl was massacred inside that place. Still, she can’t quite tear her eyes away. For a long, breathless moment, she just stares, caught in the bone-deep wrongness of that place. And then, like ice slithering down her spine, a stomach-churning feeling of horror settles upon her. It takes a hold in her chest before she even realises the cause of it.
Just barely visible from this far away, lingering in the window of the Munson’s trailer, is the shape of a person, standing stock-still. The longer she stares, breaths shallow and fast under the weight of that settling dread, the more the distant shape seems to resemble a girl, its silhouette becoming more convincingly feminine as that agonising second draws out longer and longer, running on forever as her gaze refuses to budge from the sight.
It’s like time has stopped.
Tina doesn’t realise she’s stepping away until her feet scuff against the uneven ground and she nearly loses her balance. That, at least, is enough to break her out of her trance even if the terror sinking into her stomach refuses to dissipate; she rips her gaze away from the trailer as if burned. It feels like the shape of that figure is scorched into her retina now.
Unwilling to look back at that window, Tina runs.
—
Sitting through the commemorative assembly in the school’s gymnasium is like pulling teeth. Every word jars her, striking through with pained awareness of how overcrowded the room is playing host to two schools and yet not nearly as crowded as it should be.
She feels like an exposed nerve, too vulnerable for this. Her eyes burn with exhaustion and the threat of tears.
At some point she stops listening entirely, too mentally overwhelmed as she tries not to think about anything at all if it will get the ringing in her ears to stop. As she looks down at her hands, the shadows cast by the lines of her palms form a dark echo of the blood and grime she remembers from that day. She had to trim her nails as short as she could to get rid of the last traces of it.
When they’re finally dismissed, the end of the speeches coinciding with the end of the school day, Tina lingers behind at a shout of her name.
Waving over at her from through the dispersing crowd is Vicki. There are strained creases around the corners of her eyes as she weaves her way to meet Tina but she valiantly keeps a smile in place, something more than Tina can say for herself.
“You want to tag along with me? I’m heading to meet Samantha, she snuck some of her parents' booze in all the confusion so we’re going to meet up and let off some steam.”
“Samantha Stone?” Tina clarifies. “Since when do you hang around with Samantha?”
Vicki scoffs. “Since almost everyone else is gone.”
Tina presses her lips together to keep the sudden roll of nausea at that blasé statement at bay. Vicki seems to pick up on it, her expression dimming marginally with her concern, but she chooses not to question it. Instead, she strides on, head held high.
“Anyway, we all have people’s memories to drink to. I cannot deal with the aftermath of that stupid assembly while sober. So, you coming or what?”
Tina takes a steadying breath and follows. After all, it’s not like she’s got any better ideas.
The crowd that gathers at the edge of the school’s field is a mishmash of different people, most of whom Tina has only ever seen around each other in the classroom or at her own parties. They seem to clump together uncertainly, stilted conversations offered between each other about inane topics that Tina doesn’t have the energy to entertain.
Regardless, she loiters around with the group, accepting whatever drinks get thrust into her hand and taking great gulps to avoid joining any conversations. Listening is more than enough, if you can even class what she’s doing as listening.
Everyone else, at least, seems on the same page about getting shit-faced. As the hours creep by, shoulders finally start to slump and the group gets rowdier the drunker they get. Bottles are uncapped with grandiose claims of them being in honour of someone who couldn’t be there with them.
Silently, Tina raises her own drink, the faces of her friends flashing in her minds’ eye.
At some point, Vicki leaves her place at Tina’s side. She looks up to see her, arms interlocked, with Samantha and laughing the way she only does when she’s really tipsy. For a second, Tina considers going over to talk to them, but when she gets up from her spot on the bench her body feels clumsy and uncoordinated. It’s probably better that she stays here, leaning against the seat for support.
There’s another kid who could probably benefit from the same. He’s pale aside from a splotchy flush to his cheeks as he stumbles ungainly out from the tree line.
“Didn’t get lost taking a piss then?” his friend taunts as he wobbles his way back over to their side.
“I think I just saw a ghost,” he says in a daze.
Everyone laughs at that. Tina tries not to think at all.
The sun is creeping towards the horizon and Tina is far too many drinks in when the nausea finally hits her. It feels like a physical thing, crawling its way up her throat.
“Shit,” she gasps, floundering up onto her feet at last and heading blindly into the trees. At least there she might have just a smidge more privacy in her shame.
Her sneakers shuffle over uneven earth, hesitant at first until the need to puke becomes too much and she hurries further along, with all the uncoordinated grace she can muster. Knees meet the ground and an arm braces against a tree as she sucks in deep breaths. They slowly soothe the sickness away. In the end, she’s not sure if it’s better or worse that she didn’t actually vomit.
Head still hazy, she looks up and widens her awareness back to her surroundings.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she says, clambering back to her feet, as she spots them.
It’s a girl. It’s too far away to be sure but she looks to be dressed in a cheer uniform, at least from what Tina can see. The girl is curled around herself, sitting with her back against a tree and her head in her hands.
This could be it. This could be that same hallucination.
Tina should just go—whether or not this is real, she just needs to leave it alone. If this is just some other student from their drunken group, then her crying is none of Tina’s business. Hell, she’s had to step away for private moments herself and it’s not the sort of thing you want to be walked in on. And if this is Chrissy, then… Well, then that doesn't bode well to think about.
Leaves and twigs crunch underfoot, stealing any stealth she might have managed, as Tina approaches. Not like it matters, the girl doesn’t react at all, as if she can’t even hear her.
The closer she gets the less she can deny it. That strawberry-blonde hair, held back from her face by a green scrunchie; that small stature; the familiar cheer uniform, speckled with somehow still-red blood… She may not have known Chrissy personally, but Tina had certainly seen her around enough to be able to recognise her.
She slows to a stop, looking down at the figure of her. From here she can see that her head isn’t actually in her hands. She’s covering her ears, muttering something under her breath that Tina can’t quite make out without getting closer.
Tina’s mouth opens to speak but she finds it suddenly dry, her throat barren. She clears her throat, the sound perversely loud in the atmosphere around her.
“Chrissy?” she manages finally, voice little more than a whisper.
Chrissy’s head snaps up to look at her, eyes wide and frantic. Her whole body tenses, posture coiling and shifting as if she’s preparing to bolt, and for a moment Tina feels that same need to flee echoed in herself. Neither of them do.
Tearful, blue eyes take in Tina’s face before some of the fight seems to drain from her, slumping infinitesimally against the tree behind her. Tina, though, doesn’t relax and her alcohol slowed mind fumbles to come to grips with the sight before her.
Chrissy, where she sits in the leaves and dirt and forest debris, is so pale. Every so often, the very vision of her seems to flicker in Tina’s sight, as if the girl herself were not fully corporeal… trapped between this world and the next.
“Are… Are you real?” Chrissy breathes, voice small and broken.
The irony of that startles a laugh from Tina before she can help it.
Shouldn’t she be the one asking that? Chrissy is the dead girl out of the two of them. If either of them should be mistrusting their minds right now, it should be Tina. Because if ghosts aren’t real, as Tina had always believed so strongly, then how can Tina be facing this right now?
“Am I real?” she scoffs, voice bordering on hysterical. “You’re the dead girl here.”
“What?” Chrissy asks in that same crushed tone.
“You’re dead,” Tina tells her, because what else is there to say?
Somehow, Chrissy seems to pale further, as if blood was rushing away from her non-existent face.
“No. N-no. I’m not, I can’t be. What are you talking about?”
“You died. In the Munsons’ trailer.”
“You’re lying. I’m right here—I can’t be—” Chrissy’s voice becomes shrill and stricken with panic before an anger steals over her features. “This isn’t funny. What kind of joke is that? I just—I need to get home.”
Tina scoffs, almost disbelieving, and steadies her swaying against a low-hanging branch.
“I went to your funeral. You’re dead. And I must be going crazy…”
The last part comes out half as a laugh, half as a sigh. It’s a fact she’s resigned herself to uncomfortably quickly, but what other explanation could there be? People don’t just see visions of dead girls sitting around and telling them they can’t be dead if they’re not mad.
Chrissy’s expression glazes over, seeming to be lost in her own mind as a fresh wave of tears give a new shine to those mournful eyes.
“You’re lying,” she says again, but this time she sounds more defeated than accusing, like it makes sense to her even if she doesn’t want it to be true.
Or Tina’s mind thinks Chrissy shouldn’t want it to be true—if Chrissy’s ghost actually was in front of her, that is. But she isn’t, because that would be preposterous. She’s just had too much to drink, and she’s been feeling paranoid, and it’s not as if she’s been able to rest since all of this began.
She doesn’t know why she’s indulging this in the first place.
Her mouth opens to say something to that effect. Surely she has some smartass comment about it all, but all that remains in her mind are the wispy impressions of the thought as she tries her best to reorient herself. In the end, she gets nothing out before a voice calls out for her.
Damn, she’s been out here for too long. She’s not even really sure how much time has slipped away without her notice between her leaving the gathering and ending up where she stands now.
Right, that decides it, she’s leaving. This—all of this—is something she doesn’t want any part in. Not ghosts, or hallucinations, or whatever any of this is and certainly not while she’s drunk. There are a thousand more important things she could be worrying about, she chides herself as she turns on her heel and sets her eyes on the way back. In fact, she’s mid-step when a feeble voice calls out for her.
“Please, don’t go. I’m scared to be alone…”
Tina pauses, her heart pounding.
“I need to get back,” she says; to herself, because there is no one else there.
For a moment, Chrissy is quiet. Tina almost thinks the hallucination has finally dissipated when she speaks up again.
“Will you come back?”
Tina’s heart stutters in her chest. This isn’t real. None of this is real. She turns to look behind her and Chrissy is gone, not even a trace of her to be seen.
“Tina!”
“Yeah,” Tina replies, the words mumbled to herself, as she finally unsticks her feet from the ground to return to the group.
---
chapter 2
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