honey, we're home

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Seeing her older brother saw open El's leg was not an experience Alina ever expected—or wanted—to see. Then again, that could describe most of the situations she'd been in during the past few days, because, she had to admit, she was totally not having a good time here.

She knew she could easily look away, but she found that it felt like a betrayal to El and all of the pain she was in to do so, so instead she kept her eyes firmly locked on the wound and held her friend's hand as she screamed, the heated knife sinking into her flesh. The smell of blood and rot, which had been faint before, got stronger as Jonathan cut into her leg, causing pus and blood to squirt out of the wound, and Alina tried to breathe as little as she could as the skin on El's leg split. The only time she briefly looked away was to watch Erica, who, given that she was literally ten, should not have been witnessing this shit, but Alina found that the girl was actually leaning forward to witness this surgery, curiosity written all over her face.

"Oh, shit," Dustin swore as he watched, and Alina wondered if he, too, was going to throw up. What was it like for him, to reunite with his friends briefly only to have one of them collapse mere minutes later with some strange parasite writhing around in her leg? A parasite that, apparently, he hadn't even been dealing with?

The gaping hole in El's flesh was larger now, and Jonathan—who seemed to Alina moments away from passing out—heaved in a deep, horrified breath. And then he sank his gloved hand into the fissure he'd created, causing skin to split and spread, veins to bulge, and for El to let out another scream. Everyone else was letting out cries of disgust, and Alina was pretty sure she saw Gabe duck away to vomit again. She was seriously considering joining him, but kept her hand firmly intertwined with El's, even when the girl squeezed it so hard she lost the circulation in it. She tried, for a brief moment, to imagine the intense pain El must've been going through, multiplying what she'd gone through at the hospital by a dozen, and stared down at her friend incredulously. How in the world was she still conscious?

Jonathan's fingers sunk deeper into El's leg, and Alina saw the pained, queasy faces of her friends out of the corner of her eye. Will looked like he was about to cry, Gabe had already thrown up twice, Nancy's eyes were panicked and wild, Mike was biting his lip in worry, Max was wrinkling her nose and forcing herself not to look away, and Lucas's skin was glistening with sweat, his eyes bulging.

"Jonathan!" Nancy screamed now, as El's wails got louder and louder.

"Stop talking!" Alina's older brother looked two seconds away from bursting into tears. He'd been incredibly brave to volunteer for this awful position, but Alina didn't think anyone else would've been able to do it. But Jonathan had the right amount of empathy and the right amount of shielding his disgust to fish his hands around in El's leg. He still deserved a new camera or something after this, though. Especially when he swore, unable to find the creature. "Goddamn it!"

"No!" El shook her head wildly, causing the wooden spoon to fall out of her mouth. "Stop it! Stop! Stop!" At Nancy's urging, Jonathan looked up, drawing his hand out of El's leg, and the girl groaned, her face streaked with blood and tears. "I can do it," she whimpered, and, with Max, Alina and Mike's help, drew herself to a sitting position. "I can do it."

Panting, El took a moment to catch her breath, and then, with all eyes on her expectantly, she launched out her arm, hovering it over the wound and concentrating on the fleshy thing inside of it. There was an immediate sizzling of flesh and El let out a fresh wail, and Alina forced herself to keep looking, even though the desire to close her eyes and block this shit out was excruciating now. El kept wailing but continued to hold her hand over her swollen, black-veined leg, tears streaming down her face. "God!" she screamed, as her flesh seemed to almost bubble, and then she burst into one long, drawn-out scream as the skin on her leg sizzled and burst, and that was when the display window they were all sitting in front of exploded, shattering into pieces that rained down on the party. Alina ducked, shielding her head, managing to avoid most of the damage, but a couple of stray pieces pierced into her arm, causing her to let out a shriek of her own as blood ran down in rivets.

She forced herself to look back at El just as a tiny piece of the fleshy Mind Flayer was peeled out of her leg, shrieking and chittering as El held it, hovering it above her leg. She continued to scream—her throat must be nearly hoarse by now—and then lifted the creature higher before hurling it across the mall. The critter went flying, bouncing once, twice, and leaving a trail of blood on the ground. It chittered painfully, inching itself forward with a shriek, and that was when it was crushed by a chunky black boot. A boot Alina definitely recognized from somewhere.

Alina's eyes drew up, and she found that the owner of the boot was none other than Hopper. He looked like shit, almost as bad as her own crew, and on one side of him was Murray Bauman, the conspiracy theorist who had helped Nancy and Jonathan close down the lab last year. Even though most people in Hawkins thought he was crazy, Alina would never forget that good deed. But that wasn't who she was looking at. And it wasn't Hopper, either. No, on the chief of police's other side was Joyce Byers.

Her mom. Her mom.

Alina immediately staggered to her feet, aggravating her ribs and the new wounds in her arms, but the adrenaline was pumping through her so hard she could barely feel either of those. And then she was running, sprinting through the mall, nearly slipping on puddles of blood and vomit (thanks a lot, Gabe) before launching herself into Joyce Byers' arms. She immediately began to sob without the faintest idea of why, her body trembling. Dimly, she was aware that Will had joined in, similarly in tears, but just clutched Joyce closer to her, inhaling her motherly smell. She never wanted to let go. In Joyce's arms, everything was all right. In Joyce's arms, everything would be all right.

Joyce was stroking her hair, and it was, for some reason, the best thing Alina had ever felt. As she clutched her younger children, she found herself crying, too. She'd been so worried about them when she'd found out about the gate. About the way that they—and Alina and Will especially—might be in danger. She spoke somewhat to herself, somewhat to the kids as she held them.

"It's okay," she soothed. "It's okay. We're safe now. We're all safe now. Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be fine." She took in a rattling breath and turned to Hopper, but he was already making his way over to El, who was looking hurt. God. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted. She'd thought they were having fun at the fair (wasn't it one of their birthdays today?) and instead, they were in pain, yet again. And judging by everyone's gaunt faces and tattered clothes, along with Harrington's swollen eye and Gabe's battered cheek (had he been slapped?), it seemed like it had been a rough couple of days.

"It's okay," she continued to say, stroking her children's hair. "It's okay. Just breathe, alright? Everything is going to be okay."

Like Alina, she wished she could stay here forever. In a precious moment where everyone was alive, if not well. Where everyone was together, where everyone was okay. But, like all moments, this one ended, because Alina was bleeding from her right arm, pieces of glass jammed in the flesh, and El looked like she was about to pass out, even with Hopper immediately and hastily wrapping bandages against her wound. So, yes, this moment ended. And although there would be yet another moment like this soon—in fact, within hours—it would not be the same at all, because by the time Joyce Byers threw her arms around her children again, one member of this impromptu group would be gone.

But nobody knew that. So it was that they went about the unpleasant tasks of rewrapping up El's leg—Alina hoped she wouldn't have to look at that thing again—consoling a shaken up Jonathan, who had rushed to the bathroom to throw up immediately after this whole situation, and, generally, moving so they were in a better condition to catch up. And catch up, they needed to do. Alina's group still had no idea what was going on with the Russians, Dustin's didn't know much about the Mind Flayer, and Joyce's didn't know either, and was bursting to tell them all about their travels in Illinois and everything with Alexei and Larry and the Russian Terminator.

They were also all starving, none of them having eaten much that day, and so, Alina found herself beside Lucas, her arms newly patched up, rifling through the food court for snacks. She found a pizza that, although a little cold, would do, and the two of them perched on the counter to eat it, watching the others gather smoothies, hot dogs on a stick, and, in Erica's case, a boatload of ice cream. Alina kept her eye on her mother as she opened the box, as if the woman might disappear again. These past few days had been excruciating without her, and, if she was being honest, Hopper as well. The man might've been chief of police, brutish, and a little too protective over his daughter, but she admired Hopper, too. Daresay even liked him.

"You good?" Lucas asked her, tracing his hand over the bandage on her knee. Alina nodded, taking out a slice of plain cheese pizza (sometimes she liked it with pepperoni and vegetables and the like, but mostly she preferred it just plain) and took a bite.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just... shaken up. But I can't even imagine what El must be feeling right now."

The girl in question was currently perched on the counter of Orange Julius while Hopper looked for something for her to drink. Occasionally, she winced, but she seemed much better than she had before. Probably because that thing was finally purged out of her. It was just like it had been for Alina.

"Understandable," Lucas murmured, taking a slice of pizza for himself. "Out of all the things I expected to see today, your brother hacking open El's leg was not one of them."

Alina laughed lightly. "Well, I guess we can't really expect anything anymore," she said. "I mean, have you predicted anything that has happened during these past few days?"

He shook his head. "Can't say I have. Except..." Lucas trailed off, his eyes flickering down to the floor. Alina tilted her head.

"Except what?"

And then he was leaning in. "Except this."

His lips met hers, and although this probably wasn't the best time for kissing, and showering and brushing their teeth would've been infinitely preferable, Alina didn't let him go. She just kissed Lucas Sinclair, her thumb traces the curve of his jaw, and let herself fly away.

Gabe wasn't so lucky as to sprout wings of his own. He was currently sitting beside Will at a table near Hot Dog on a Stick, licking mustard off his cold corndog and trying to keep his gaze from straying to the boy's lips. They were holding hands, but just barely, their fingers brushing their palms like feathers, and Gabe wondered if it had the same weight to Will as it did to him. It didn't seem like it did. Will seemed distracted—he was probably thinking about El's leg—and several times, he smeared mustard on his face as he missed his mouth trying to shove a bite of corndog in it. Gabe resisted the urge to sigh, or scream, or just tell Will his feelings right then and there. His heart felt like it was on fire.

Then Will spoke. "I didn't know what to get you for your birthday." His face was a brilliant vermillion, his hair flopping all over, but his brown eyes struggled to rise and meet Gabe's. "Like, I know what you like. I know what you want to do. But every time I tried to find you something, it never seemed good enough, which is weird, because I get everyone else gifts so easily."

Gabe didn't know what to say. He stopped licking his mustard and just stared right into Will's inky brown eyes, convinced he could see right through them and into the boy's pure, angelic soul. Will continued, "Nothing material really seemed like it'd be enough. I don't know why. So I wanted..." he swallowed, struggling for the right words. "I wanted to give you something that wasn't an object. I mean, until I found something that was right. I wanted to give you a secret for your birthday, even though I... it might be the worst birthday present ever," he admitted. "Or maybe it's not." He shook his head. "I know a lot of things about you, Gabriel Burton, but how you'll... how you'll react to this isn't one of them. But, if anything, I don't think you'll be mad. It's not in your nature."

"What is it?" Gabe's voice was barely above a whisper, and he leaned forward, propping his head up with his hands. He thought he might melt. Or faint. Or throw up again. Hopefully none of those things.

"I... I..." Will blinked furiously, tears sprouting in his eyes. Gabe clenched his fists to resist the urge to wipe them away with his thumb. "I wanted to tell you that I—"

"What's taking you nerds so long?"

Erica Sinclair's voice burst right through Will's birthday present to Gabe, causing both of the boys to whip around. She was standing a little ways away from them, a hand on her hip, a couple drops of ice cream on her clothes. "Seriously," she complained. "How long does it take to eat a hot dog on a stick? Hurry up, the others are waiting!"

And then she turned around, sauntering off to meet the others. Gabe whirled back to Will, who was looking, if possible, even more embarrassed than before. "What was it you were going to tell me?" he asked lightly, because he didn't want to let a disruption from Erica Sinclair keep him from whatever Will was going to say. But Will was shifting, uncomfortable, and it seemed the moment had been ruined.

"Nothing," he said. "I—it was nothing. I mean..." he took a deep breath. "I'll tell you later, Gabe."

If there even is a later, Gabe thought to himself, and he finished off his corndog, trying not to show Will how much his bluffing hurt.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: 👀👀👀

'till next time!!