𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑷𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑬𝑳𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵

❛ I should let you know, I'm not good with kids. ❜

❦

Steve Harrington sits on the boot of his car outside of the convenience store, waiting for Carol and Tommy to exit. He stares at the ground, his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers fiddling while blood drips from his eyebrow and a black bruise starts to form around his eye. He regrets it. He regrets it all, so much. The way Malia looked at him was enough to cause his stomach to lurch and Nancy's harsh tone made him rethink the whole situation. It was wrong.

"Hey," Tommy calls, throwing a bottle of pills and a coke can to Steve, "You owe me $1.20."

Steve clenches his jaw, but remains silent while pouring a few aspirin pills into his palm and swallowing them in an instant. Realisation was starting to dawn on him, and due to the recent events, he wasn't sure on how to act. Jonathan Byers had just kicked his ass, after all.

"Don't worry, he'll need more that aspirin when we're done with him," Tommy grumbles.

"Yeah," Carol scoffs, still rubbing at her bruised cheek, "If those creeps ever get out. The cops should just lock him up forever. I mean, it's about time Malia goes to prison, right? She's dangerous." She swallows, "Did you see the look on Jonathan's face, as well? They're both psychos."

Steve squeezes his eyes shut in anger and leans forward slightly, raising the cold coke can to his eye to cool the swelling. It's all starting to bubble, and in a moment his hatred for his only friends is going to boil over and he'll break.

Tommy laughs, throwing his head back, and tapping a hand against Steve's tapping knee, "He probably had that same look whenever he killed his brother, right?"

"Oh, God." Carol grimaces, "I just got an image of him making that face while he and Nancy are screwing." She smirks, "I bet Malia joins."

"Carol, for once in your life, shut your damn mouth!" Steve shouts, his patience finally snapping, "I'm thankful Mal had the sense to punch you." He scoffs, lickinh his lips, "God, I wish she went further."

"What?" She gasps, her eyes wide due to his sudden harsh words.

Tommy tilts his head in confusion, "Hey, what's your problem, man?"

Steve removes the can from his face, turning his head to face the both of them. They're completely dumb founded, and like most other things, they don't undertsand him, "You're both assholes. That's my problem." He snaps.

"Are you serious right now?"

Steve jumps off the car, sending a shove into Tommy's chest before marching past him and towards the front of the vehicle, "Yeah, I'm serious. You shouldn't have done that."

"Done what?" Tommy asks.

Steve comes a stop, whirling around on his heel to glare daggers into his so called best friend, "You know what."

Tommy shoves his face in front of Steve's, his eyes now wide with anger, "You mean call them out for what they really are? Oh, that's funny, because I don't remember you asking me to stop."

"I should've put that spray paint right down your throat," Steve spits, his eyes flicking to Carol for a moment and noticing her bruised cheek, "Or I shouldn't just left Malia to beat the shit out of you instead."

"What the hell, Steve?" Carol throws her arms into the air, once again shocked by his mention of Malia's violence.

"You know, neither of you ever cared about Malia or Nancy. You never even liked Nance, because she isn't miserable like you two. She actually cares about people." He scoffs, "And you're both terrified of Malia, yet you've never actually taken your time to talk to her! She was right about you both. You're horrible people."

"Oh, yeah, that's right," Carol raises her voice, "Malia, the girl with major daddy issues. Isn't that the only reason you're 'best friends' with her? Because you feel bad for her. Because her poor old daddy is dead."

"I told you to watch your mouth!" Steve bellows, pointing at harsh finger at the girl.

The topic of Malia's father was brought up alot whenever the trio argued. Carol and Tommy knew it infurited Steve so much more than calling him names ever would. They know how protective he is over the girl, making the topic just as sensitive for him as it was for her.

"Hey!" Tommy wraps his fingers around Steve's bloody collar and slams him back against the car, "I don't know what's gotten into you, man, but you don't talk to her that way."

Steve pushes him a step back, his jaw ticking, "Get out of my face."

Swiftly, Tommy is shoving him against the car again, their faces now centimetres apart, "Or what?" He spits, "You gonna fight me now, too? Huh? Because you couldn't take Jonathan Byers so I wouldn't recommend that."

Harshly, Steve shoves him away and pulls open the driver's door before slipping into the seat, ignoring Tommy's angry fists banging against the window while he pulls away from the shop. Steve's knuckles begin to turn white while he grips the steering wheel. He's made a mistake. A mistake Malia warned him about.

❦

Malia stands between Hopper and Nancy while squinting her eyes at the Wheeler household. Cars are filling the driveway, while men walk in and out with boxes before piling them into their vehicles.

Nancy gasps, realisation hitting her, "I have to go home."

"No, you can't." Hopper replies, holding a pair of binoculars up to his eyes with his eyebrows slightly cinched while he attempts to figure out why so many people are at the Wheeler's house.

"My mum. . . my dad are there!" She protests, angrily motioning to the busy building, "I have to go see them!"

"They're gonna be okay, Wheeler." Malia speaks up before Hopper has the chance, her hand patting Nancy's shoulder, "I doubt those men are there for them."

With a grumble, Nancy shakes her head and breaks off into a run down the road but Hopper is fast to grip her arm and pull her back, a now stern expression replacing his confusion.

"Hey, hey, hey." He ignores her cries for him to let go and tightens his grip further, "The last thing in the world we need is them knowing you're mixed up in all this."

Her eyes widen in shock, "Mike is over there—"

"They haven't found him." Hopper snaps, "Not yet, at least." He points into the distance at a helicopter flying above the woods.

Malia and Nancy follow his fingers, watching for a few moments while the helicopter flies just above the canopy of the trees and even more men wander into the trees with flashlights. A search party.

"For Mike?" Nancy's eyes widen further, in complete disbelief that her younger brother is the cause of all this.

"Come on," He shoves her into the car before turning around and wagging a finger at the other girl, "Malia, get in."

The dark haired girl does as instructed, just thankful that she isn't squashed between Nancy and Jonathan again. She tries to ignore the soppy words that the two teenagers beside her exchange.

Hopper turns around from the front seat, silencing Nancy's and Jonathan's awkward conversation, "Look, we need to find them before they do. Do you have any idea of where he might have gone?"

"No, I don't." She says, shaking her head frantically.

"I need you to think," He grumbles.

"I don't know," She slaps her hands against her thighs in frustration, "We haven't talked a lot. I mean, lately."

Joyce sighs, running a tired hand over her face, "Is there any place that your— your parents don't know about that he might go?"

"I— I don't know." She shrugs again, her eyes lowering to her lap in disappointment.

"I might." Jonathan speaks up, causing everyone's attention to immediately snap to him, "I mean, I don't know where he is, but I think I know how to ask him." He swallows, "Drive us back to my house."

Hopper nods firmly, whirling back around before staring the car and driving off quickly. Malia stares out the window, her eyes still focussed on the government cars lining the Wheeler's drive and the helicopter sawing through the sky.

"Hop?" She questions, earning a hum in reply, "What the fuck is actually going on?"

He rolls his jaw, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror and offering her a calming smile, "It's hard to explain."

For once, she believes him and doesn't just think he's saying that so he can get rid of her sooner. This whole thing is complicated. A literal monster chased her through the woods of a parallel universe and cut your ankles so much that she is one hundred percent sure she's going to have scars.

❦

The two adults and three teenagers climb out of Hopper's car and stand on the Byer's driveway, staring at the slightly destroyed state. Malia glances over at Jonathan while he marches inside, trying to ignore the hole in the wall and the boarded windows. She shoves her hands into her pockets before following after him.

Inside is, somehow, even worst than the exterior. Furniture is thrown all over the rooms, mostly broken or dirty. Christmas lights are strung in every angle and there's large writing displayed on the wall above the sofa. Malia skids to a stop, circling around to look at all the devastation, but as Hopper walks past, her grabs her arm and pulls her after her him into a room she presumes was Will's.

It's the tidiest, making it clear that Joyce hasn't dared to enter since Will's disappearance.

"I got it!" Joyce yells, sliding her body back out from underneath the bed, holding a communications radio in her hand. Immediately, she throws it to Nancy, allowing the younger girl to contact her brother.

After a deep breath, Nancy presses down the side button and raises the radio to her lips, "Mike, are you there? Mike?" Her eyes flick over to Jonathan and he smiles gently, urging her to keep going, "Mike, it's me. Nancy. Mike, are you there? Answer. This is an emergency, Mike."

Malia groans, falling back onto the bed and she sits up slowly, running her hands through her hair before resting her elbows on her knees, listening to Nancy's attempts.

"Mike, do you copy?" She squeezes her eyes shut, trying her hardest not to look at Joyce, "I need you to answer. We need to know that you're there, Mike."

Rolling her jaw, Malia started to stand up and match over to the girl, but a strong hand against her chest pushes her back onto the bed and Hopper snatches the radio out of Nancy's hands instead.

"Listen, kid, this is the chief. If you're there, pick up. We know you're in trouble and we know about the girl." He purses his lips, "We can protect you, we can help you, but you gotta pick up. Are you there? Do you copy? Over."

There's a long silence before Hopper sighs heavily and places the radio on the cabinet beside him, turning back around to face the group.

"Anybody got any other ideas?" He questions.

Malia raises her hand lazily, "We could just go look—"

"Yeah, I copy." A young boy's voice cracks through the radio, causes everyone's heads to snap towards it in shock, "It's Mike. I'm here. We're here."

Malia's face lights and she smirks over at Jonathan and Nancy, causing them to smile back. Hopper's quick to grab the radio again, and after a few minutes, the kids have managed to tell them the correct location.

They all pile into the car, and Malia rolls her shoulders back, "I should let you all know. I'm not good with kids, so don't ask me to do anything with them. I tried babysitting once, didn't end so well."

Hopper glances at her through the mirror, a sly smirk on his lips, "Don't worry. None of us were going to expect you to even talk to them. You can't even keep a fish alive, let alone a whole kid."

Her mouth opens in shock and she raises her middle finger, her face now screwed up in disgust, "Uh, you're supposed to be the Chief. You can't be speaking to a minor like that."

He chuckles lowly, shaking his head and she rolls her eyes, smiling gently before readjusting her position so she's staring out of the window again at the foggy surroundings.