— CHAPTER 5 —
THE BIRTHDAY

WEDNESDAY 31st OCTOBER,
1984

THE last day of October begins seemingly like any other day — dull daylight softly illuminates the curtains in Daphne's window, which spills out onto the girl as she slowly writhes in half-slumber. Birdsong and hoarse barks of the neighbour's basset hound permeate the soundscape of Kerley road in the daily morning routine.

     But there are a few differences. The air is laced with the aroma of pumpkin innards, put out on display at people's doorsteps, along with crisp autumn rain that paints the fiery leaves in a glossy varnish. Excited chatter is exchanged between children who have started the school run, exchanging costume ideas; indeed, Halloween is upon them.

     Of course, the most important difference of the day is yet to come...

     Daphne should get used to anticipating Cath's gentle knock by now, for her sister has been doing it since she could walk. But half-asleep, it still surprises her. Her eyelids still glued together with the will to sleep, the gentle tip-toe of footsteps across the floorboards alert her attention, along with the sudden sinking of the mattress as Cath plonks herself down on it. Daphne groans, rolling over in her bed and rubbing her eyes.

     "How are you not awake yet?" Cath asks incredulously, but in a gentle whisper.

     "Mmph... stayed up late," Daphne replies. She squints past a blurry Cath at the blob of colour on her desk, which soon materialises as her heaps of story ideas piled up in scraps. Some homework is bound to be buried under there too...

     "Well, maybe it's for the best, 'cause we had more time to prepare downstairs."

     "Downstairs?"

     "You do know what day it is, right?" Cath asks, then lights up as if Christmas has come early, nudging her sister playfully. "It's your birthday, silly!"

     The sudden epiphany strikes Daphne's mind, erasing her half-sleeping brain fog — it is a strange blend of euphoria and dread, which throws her for a loop. With instructions to get downstairs as soon as possible, Cath scurries away. Daphne sighs and contemplatively stares at her ceiling from the comfort of her pillow.

     Eighteen, she thinks, staring herself down in the mirror. Daphne tries to see if anything has miraculously changed overnight. So far, nothing — she is just as small as usual, same wide blue eyes and blonde bedhead, same voice as far as she can tell. Just a little bit wearier than she used to be, perhaps. Is weariness wisdom? It would certainly be a more romantic way of seeing it, like a prophecy fulfilled as she hits adulthood, but part of Daphne is sceptical that it is merely a product of what she endured last year. Maybe feeling years beyond your age isn't the best feeling in the world after all...

     So then how is she supposed to feel?

     Before her mind can get too existentially tangled for the morning, Daphne gets herself dressed in a comfortable sweater and jeans to head downstairs. She has barely made it down the bottom when the warmth of candlelight flickers from the kitchen. It beckons her, and when she reaches the doorway, she finds the source — a circle of lit candles illuminating a small homemade cake, with Thomas, Cath and Peggy stood around.

They begin to sing a birthday song, but most of them as awkward and shy as each other, their singing comes across more bashful as Daphne blushes red listening, while Peggy confidently belts it out with more gusto. Suddenly she finds herself thinking about how, if her mother were here, she would pour so much glowing energy into the room — she had that effect wherever she went, Daphne remembers. She may be too young to remember her detail-for-detail, but she remembers how she felt. Like sunlight.

     "Happy birthday dear Daphne, happy birthday to you..."

The song concluded with a small round of applause, Daphne grins sheepishly at the surprise. "Cake? For breakfast?" she retorts. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"Oh no, not for breakfast, but—"

"Come on, she's eighteen!" Peggy interjects, nudging Thomas. "It's a special day."

"No way!" Thomas retorts back. "Especially if she's going to be eating Halloween candy later."

"Wait," the Aunt turns to Daphne, a quizzical look on her face. "You still go trick or treating?"

"Well," she blushes, "not exactly, but—"

"How about you make a wish?" Cath interrupts, somewhat timidly but loud enough to be heard. She gestures grandly to the cake and steps back, as if it were some sacred rite of passage for Daphne to follow. Chuckling, she kneels down in front of the cake and thinks about what to wish for. Some of her wishes when she was younger were so blissfully innocent and naïve, or wildly hopeful. But now, Daphne finds, all she finds herself hoping is that things will get better. Or, if this is as good as it gets, may it never become worse.

Please let everything turn out okay, Daphne wishes internally. And please don't let any of my friends, anyone I love, get hurt. Not again.

In one and a half puffs she extinguishes the candles, tendrils of smoke rising from the wicks. The smell of burned candles still lingers over the breakfast table as they eat and Daphne opens some gifts. It is tradition for them to divide up the day this way — although the whole day is a balanced celebration, the focus hovers over Daphne's birthday in the morning, while the evening brings on the Halloween celebrations in the Delaney household. Her gifts form a neat little pile at the side of the table, an intriguing range of trinkets since she had no particular birthday wishes this year. One in particular, a small porcelain fairy from Cath, captures her heart completely.

By the end of breakfast, time is ticking before school starts. In a Stevie Nicks-charged rushed drive there, Daphne and Cath quietly enjoy each other's company before parting ways in the parking lot. As Cath walks away, Daphne feels a tug of nostalgia for when she was that age herself. Then, all of a sudden, it stops. She doesn't know why she started remembering it so fondly — those bully-filled years were some of the most miserable of her childhood.

You're eighteen now, Daphne chants to herself, like a mantra. A grown woman. You should be excited for this new chapter!

Following her mental pep talk, she starts to stride with a bounce in her step as she reaches her locker. Daphne begins loading some of her textbooks inside, when a rough handling of the locker door next to her distracts her. His door is covering his face at the moment, but she knows exactly who it is — the mullet peeking over, the tight-fitting jeans and the cologne so heavily doused it catches at the back of her throat.

She freezes, trying not to appear too transparent in her disdain over sharing a locker space with Billy Hargrove. The new guy freshly delivered from sunny California, girls in Hawkins High have been falling over him left, right and centre... and Daphne just can't understand why. The attraction feels so materialistic. Whatever happened to old-fashioned charm? A good heart? The apparent heartthrob qualities that have everyone else swooning pass right under Daphne's radar.

As she is pondering this, Billy abruptly slams his locker door, and suddenly they've made the most uncomfortable eye contact. Daphne thinks this is the first time she has looked into his eyes — and there is something numb in them. She can't pinpoint what exactly, but it sends a chill down her spine. There is a wild vacancy in his eyes that seems to say, "You do not want to know what I am capable of." With a jangle of the chains hanging from his jeans, Billy takes off in the other direction, completely unfazed in comparison to Daphne after that strange interaction. She is never usually one to judge too quickly, but something about Billy Hargrove feels... off. She doesn't quite know what. If one thing is for sure, next time she sees him at his locker, she'll just come back later for her books.

Suddenly, all in an instant, he instantly from her mind as something latches around her torso — and with it, a jolt of fear. Her breath hitches in her throat, her heart lurching against her ribs. Daphne blinks at the flash of a world that materialises around her; dark and cold, otherworldly, and haunted by death. The Upside Down. She can't go back, she can't go back—

Just as quickly as the sensation begins, it abruptly ends as her feet touch the ground again. She hears Felix's voice, then sees him, chuckling to himself as he draws his arms away from her torso. Putting two and two together, Daphne releases a shaky breath and lets her head fall back onto the locker door — the cool metal on her now-clammy skin anchors her to reality again.

     "You should have seen your face!" Felix chuckles.

     "Felix—" Daphne's voice catches, teetering on the edge of shocked tears. She takes a moment to recompose. "... I told you not to do that."

     "I'm sorry, it just slipped my mind. It won't happen again, pinkie swear."

     "You scared the shit out of me..."

     "Look, I'm sorry, I honestly didn't mean to scare you that much... Daphne? Hey, you okay?"

     Like a flipped switch, Felix transitions seamlessly from playful fun to genuine concern, gingerly placing a hand on her shoulder. Even at that Daphne tries not to flinch. Her breathing is coming back to normal again, and the dizzying terror of being back in that place on that night again has subsided... for now.

     "I'm good," she nods, although she still feels somewhat queasy in the aftermath.

     "Good, because I wouldn't want to be the one to have ruined your birthday," Felix adds sweetly, although he still seems to linger between concern and guilt.

     "Well, there's the birthday girl!" Right on time, Amy arrives with an armful of science textbooks in her arms. To her surprise, Daphne finds her being drawn into a one-armed hug, which she makes sure to reciprocate. Amy's hugs are something of a rarity, but when they happen, they almost feel more special than a hug from any other friend. It's moments like this where Daphne realises she has forgotten what Amy's good moods are like — most of the time she is cranky due to her chronic headaches and migraines, paired with the medication to quell them.

     "Before you wonder about gifts, they're saved especially for later, so stay tuned," Felix says as a quick disclaimer, accompanied with finger guns.

     "Aw, you guys..." Daphne smiles softly at the pair of them. "Oh, and speaking of later, just you wait until you see my costume. Not dropping hints, but honestly, this might be my favourite one I've ever done."

     "That makes one of us," Amy mumbles, who usually never indulges in the theatrics of Halloween quite like Felix and Daphne do.

     "On that topic, we do have a little proposal to make..."

     From his satchel, Felix plucks out a bright orange flyer and slips it into her hands. Daphne has seen these going around the last couple of days, but didn't pay any attention to them — now she reads the printed black ink that reads 'TINA'S HALLOWEEN BASH: COME AND GET SHEET FACED'

     "Okay, first of all, 'sheet faced'?" says Daphne.

     "I told you it was stupid," Amy whispers, to which Felix nudges her.

      "And second of all... so, hold on, where did you get one of these?"

     "Tina was giving them out after class, and we stopped and got talking. So she gives me one of these, tells me to bring my best costume and bring some friends along, and voilá."

     "You got invited? To a party? Personally?"

     As Felix nods, somewhat giddily, Daphne can't help but feel a pang of stubbornness over the whole thing. Felix was never an object of attraction for any of the girls in school, until perhaps the last year. Sure, maybe he wasn't as magnetic as Billy Hargrove seemed, but there were enough to get him sufficient attention. What did she miss for him to suddenly be going up in the High School hierarchy?

     "So, my suggestion is..." Felix pauses, as if for dramatic effect. "We all go, the three of us, for your birthday."

     Like a knee-jerk reaction, Daphne retorts, "Felix, no! We already have plans, like we do every year, remember?"

     "What? Trick or treating when we were kids? Or handing out candy to kids, because the former is a little too childish for us now? Come on, Daphne. It's one night. You could try something totally different, step out your comfort zone, actually see what all the buzz for High School parties is about... you can't be sceptical of them if you haven't tried one."

     "I don't need to try it. I just know," Daphne says, although she does start to ponder it now. She turns to Amy. "And you're on board with this too, Ames?"

     Amy simply gives a curt nod. "Elaine said she was going and asked if I was coming, so I thought I might as well tag along. But it's your birthday, Daphne, I really couldn't care less about a Halloween party otherwise."

     Elaine seems pretty persuasive... Daphne thinks to herself. Not even she can usually sway Amy like this, so this Elaine must be pretty special. Whether Daphne likes it or not, she seems outnumbered two to one. There is a small spark in her that feels curious, to see what seizes people her age to enjoy parties so much. Besides, it's Halloween themed, not just any old party — maybe there would be a more interesting atmosphere on a night like this?

     "Oh, what the hell," Daphne throws her arms up in the air. "I'm in. But still costumes, right?"

     "Absolutely..." Felix high-fives her. "But the first part of your birthday celebration still applies. We'll pick you up this evening."

━━━━━━

"CAN we meet at your house tonight, instead of mine?" Andrea's voice asks, from behind the locker door as Cath rummages inside it. "It might not be best time to come over..."

     "Sure, whatever you like," Cath replies, shutting the door. "Is everything okay?"

     "Yeah, just..." she adjusts the collar of her denim jacket slightly, the pin badges on her collarbone rattling. "My dad started feeling kind of rough last night, and he isn't any better this morning. So, bedrest for him, and probably not best to go to our house. In fact, it took a lot of persuading just to get us to go trick-or-treating, 'cause Mom wanted us to stay home in case we were sick too — Cath, I'm not sick, you don't have to look at me like that."

     "Sorry. You just look a little tired, that's all."

     "That's exactly the look I was going for. See, I'm going as a zombie tonight — no I'm not. That's amateur. But speaking of which..." Andrea's eyes twinkle, and she claps her hands together loudly. "HALLOWEEN!"

     At her loud exclamation, Cath shushes her in embarrassment. But indeed, the hallways in Hawkins Middle are decked out with Halloween bunting, paper cut-outs of ghosts, pumpkins and black cats hanging from the ceiling. Kids file up and down the corridor with excited chatter as they plan where to pillage for candy in their costumes. Andrea, in particular, has been very excited in the lead-up; usually Cath has little reason to look forward to Halloween, however this year she at least has friends to enjoy it with.

"It's my first Hawkins Halloween, so you'll have to teach me the ropes of all the best routes," says Andrea.

"I'm hardly an expert," Cath chuckles. "Lucas told me we should meet him at lunch so he can show is the route. I think they've planned it out very carefully. Probably too much, if you ask me."

Andrea seems distracted, however. A grin tugs at the corners of her mouth, her gaze drifting past Cath's shoulder as she seems to spot something. "Well, I don't think that's the only thing they've planned..."

Noticing that other people are now staring at the mysterious subject of interest, Cath follows Andrea's gaze, taking her around in a circle to face the other direction. She has to bite back a grin when she spots them — Mike, Lucas, Will and Dustin are all kitted out in matching Ghostbusters costumes, complete with proton packs in exchange for their usual school bags. She remembers when that movie came out in the summer, the boys were absolutely obsessed, humming the aggressively catchy theme tune whenever they could. But as much as they love them, their realisation that today is not fancy-dress seems to still be sinking in, their embarrassed stares burning holes into the linoleum floor.

"Who you gonna call? The nerds!" calls a boy in the hallway.

"You can take a wild guess at what the boys are dressing up as tonight," jokes Andrea, then suddenly snapping her fingers. "Unless that's just the day costume..."

They both burst out giggling, and as they do, Cath only feels a tad guilty as she catches eye contact with the boys for a second. The Ghostbusters at Hawkins Middle are still a hot topic in first period, Lucas and Dustin both being in Cath's class. At first, she has to admit, it was very amusing — but now the continual chatter and mocking looks of their classmates feel old. Yes, we get it, they dressed up as Ghostbusters. Move on.

Cath's resolve is to help them lay low as much as possible. Andrea's, however, is vastly different; in an attempt to withdraw attention from the boys and onto herself, she walks into the classroom and animatedly smacks a hand to her face.

"Aw man!" she says, addressed to Cath but loudly enough so everyone can hear. "No one told me we were dressing up today! I had my costume ready and everything... oh well, there's always next year."

A ripple of giggles flow across the classroom, and Dustin in particular looks as though he wished the ground would swallow him whole. Andrea seems to feel victorious though — but not everybody can be as blindingly fearless as she is. "Uh... maybe not the best approach there," Cath whispers, cringing with secondhand embarrassment.

"So what?" Andrea rebukes. "They got the wrong day. They should laugh it off and own it. I was trying to do them a favour."

Maybe that favour has yet to materialise. If all eyes weren't on the Ghostbusters before, they are now, as Lucas struggles to shrug his proton pack off his back. Cath can tell he is trying to achieve it as subtly as possible, wriggling slowly to no avail. Eventually she can't take it anymore and stands to help him. Lucas gives her an appreciative nod once she gets it off, but staunchly avoids all eye contact with her.

Later during lunch, after Cath and Andrea have eaten, they go to where they agreed to meet the boys... not that it's difficult to find them. From his pocket, Lucas takes out a folded map of Hawkins and flattens it out on a concrete step, while the others huddle around it. On it he has etched an intricate route with annotated candy-jackpots in a red marker. He explains it with such purpose, Cath would have thought he was planning a heist. When he's finished, Dustin asks the girls if they know where to meet them tonight:

"Sure," Andrea deadpans. "Four nerds dressed as Ghostbusters, we can't miss you."

While Dustin scowls in embarrassment, the gritty sound of skateboard wheels against concrete alerts them to Max's presence. Still alone, Cath notices, the redhead meanders between other kids on the playground with such ease. She can't help but wonder if that is all she ever does — just skating around, all by herself. Maybe she is a lone wolf, but that's also the kind of defence lonely people can put up. Cath out of everyone knows a thing or two about loneliness...

"Have you guys thought about inviting Max?" Cath proposes, looking pointedly to Lucas and Dustin. "That way, you could actually get to know her without stalking her—"

"No, no way," Mike quickly interjects, with a strong stubbornness that surprises them all.

"Yikes," Andrea raises her eyebrows. "Someone's territorial."

"I'm not. We've been planning this for months, and can't afford just inviting someone who isn't in the party now."

"What about me? I'm not in this so-called party, and yet I'm coming... unless you want me to back out too."

Cath looks awkwardly between Mike and Andrea, suddenly feeling tense. "I'm sorry, I'll take it back," she quickly says, standing up between the two of them. "I wasn't trying to cause anything, it was just a suggestion."

Mike drags out a long sigh — in it she catches something hidden underneath, like a weariness. This is what worries her about him recently. Every now and then, which has become more frequent, he becomes unexplainably shut-off. If Cath remembers anything she first admired about him, it was how open he was to everything. Nothing was too far out of reach for him. Now he's so... different.

"It's one Halloween," Mike finally grumbles. "She can survive."

━━━━━━

THERE are a lot of things that weigh on Thomas Delaney's mind, and today is no exception. Usually he puts them on the shelf for later thinking, which turns into never. But, in the darkness of his projection booth at the Hawk Theatre, his mind can really wander outside its usual self-inflicted limitations.

     This dimly lit room has been his retreat since he was a young boy. In fact, he was probably too young when he started working here — but everyone knew that the Delaney boy could be trusted. Maybe because he had to grow up quicker, Thomas very early on possessed the responsibility required for the delicate handling, preserving and projecting of film reels. There was a routine to it, a certain predictability he gravitated towards. The quiet purr of the projector and the vinegary aroma of the reels soon became strangely associated with comfort.

     Today he definitely needs the space and time to himself for thinking. While he lets the projector run, he sits isolated in his booth from whatever audience is watching 'The Terminator' in the theatre — and he just thinks.

     The first nagging thought, perhaps most obviously, is the notion of Daphne turning eighteen. It still boggles his mind. He still remembers bringing her home from the hospital, only a tiny pink thing swaddled in a blanket (no matter how many times she tried to wriggle out). Even clearer is his memory of taking her to school on her first day, hand-in-hand, and the heart wrenching feeling he would never admit as he and Martha watched their daughter walk in. Would she make any friends? Who would she become?

This morning, when she walked down for breakfast, Thomas thought about that last question a lot. She had really grown up over the past year. And what's more, the pursuit for colleges had hit home the realisation for Thomas that soon, his little girl would be gone. Seeing Daphne eagerly flit through brochures for what felt like a dozen different colleges was overwhelming. As much as it makes him proud, the thought of letting her go is...

Thomas shakes his head. Time for a new thought.

Of course, an unexpected and new one — Peggy camping out with them. The ins and outs of everything are still grinding the clockwork of his brain. Is she moving away from Cincinnati permanently? If so, where will she live? In Hawkins? And is she renting or buying? Or... is she living with them? No, you don't have room, he tells himself. But what if you have to make it? What if, without staying here, she has nowhere to go? Do you want your sister to live on the streets?

     In the darkness, Thomas rubs a hand over his face, riddled with conflicting thoughts. Sometimes he wishes things could just be simpler.

Like how he reacted to what Cath asked him this morning.

That's the third thing. It was while they were getting the kitchen ready with Peggy, cooking a nice breakfast and laying the table. Cath was putting the candles in the cake with painstaking care — it warmed his heart to see how much she wanted it to be right for her sister. He and Peggy loved each other, for sure, but they weren't strangers to butting heads. But all throughout childhood, for the most part, Daphne and Cath had openly cared for one another. Thomas just hoped they would keep it going when they were both grown up.

It was during this that Cath sprung the question on him. The two of them were chatting small talk, perhaps birthday preparations, when she innocently asked: "What would Mom have made of all this?"

Thomas had almost dropped the matchbox he was holding, but caught himself. "Wh– what do you mean?"

"I don't know. I was just wondering, if she was here today on Daphne's birthday, what would she be doing?"

"Oh, I don't know..." he'd laughed breathily. Fiddled to get a match out of the box, then paused. "Your Mom, she... she breathed life into everywhere she went. I don't know, she had this way of... of doing that. She would've been very... proud." Thomas sighed. He appeared to be struggling with words as much as he struggled with lighting a match. With one last fumbled strike of the match, it hissed and lit a small flame. "Ah, finally!"

Thomas carefully sheltered the flame with his cupped hand, lighting the tip of each candle, but in the midst he caught Cath's expression — the transition from curiosity to what he interpreted as disappointment, the sinking of her heart illuminated by candlelight. Immediately he'd felt a pang of guilt for not saying something.

"Hey, is your sister still asleep?" he asked, trying to change the subject as Peggy walked in. "How about you go give her a nudge?"

With a polite nod that only fed his internal guilt, Cath had drifted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. That moment had been nagging him all day. First of all, he doesn't know why she suddenly asked — the sudden entry of Martha into the conversation had thrown him off guard. And secondly, he wishes he knew how to fix his reluctance to answer those kinds of questions. The reluctance he has always had since she passed; Daphne used to be so inquisitive about her mother in the first years after she died, and in the rawness then it felt the most painful.

There's this... coil inside of him. Part of Thomas would love to talk about Martha, his beloved Martha for forever if he could. He starts off with that confidence, but then the coil returns. Something strangles him from inside. A happy memory, golden with nostalgia, is tainted by the remembrance that she's gone. An empty chair, a quiet room, dust collecting on her old desk. Suddenly, in those moments, he can't bear to find the words. The coil may be better these days — in the beginning, he thought it would strangle him to death — but it still remains.

He isn't sure what he would have told Cath. In hindsight, maybe he would have told her this:

That the bunting they hang up for every birthday was, in fact, made by Martha herself. Or that if there was a prize for worst birthday-candle-blower, it would go to Martha's hilariously weak puffs on the stubborn candles. Or how Martha always put the most thought into her gifts, so much so that you didn't even realise you wanted it until you opened it, then wondered how the hell she noticed or saw into your soul to know that was the perfect gift; and that he thinks Martha actually passed that quality down to Cath...

But he didn't say a word.

.... Perhaps it would be a story for another time.

━━━━━━

A/N;

SURPRISE!! i know i'm meant to be on writing hiatus, but i couldn't resist this one 🤠 as always i can never stick to my hiatuses!

i actually pre-wrote this chapter a little while back, originally meaning to save it for once my writing hiatus was over — but season 4 came out yesterday and i just had to mark it somehow, so here you go! it was actually nice doing writing this without the pressure of updating instantaneously, if that makes sense? i feel like i took my time more. maybe there is something in this whole pre-writing thing...

first off, i just want to preface that i still haven't watched stranger things 4 yet, although i'm hoping to start it very soon. i'm trying to dodge spoilers, but if not for my sake, for the sake of other readers DO NOT comment season 4 spoilers on this book! not that it would be relevant to this plot, just in case anyone tries to. not everyone can watch volume 1 immediately so please consider that!

anyway, daphne's 18th birthday!!! this chapter hit somewhat close to home because i also recently hit this milestone. it's... a weird time. half exciting, but half existential crisis. you will definitely see more of that in the coming chapters, which are going to be a double update by the way! goodie goodie! also thomas 🥲 writing him is one of my new favourite things, it's a whole different type of POV for me, and there is something so comforting about writing thomas i think. he just misses his wife god damn it 😭

despite this surprise chapter, i can definitely say now that there won't be more updates until my hiatus is officially over (which should be around june 23rd). then i'll treat you guys to the double update to make up for it. thank you for reading as always, and hope you have a lovely day/evening!

— Imogen

[ Pre-written: May 17th, 2022 ]
[ Published: May 28th, 2022 ]