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Jan. 16th, 2021 01:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eggosThe bus rolls up to the stop outside of Starcourt, and Eleven turns from her conversation with Mike to look at it. It's time to go; she knows there's only a short window of time before they're not allowed on it anymore, and then they'll have to wait for the next one. She looks at Max, then at Mike again.
He lied. He's still lying. Nana isn't sick. Eleven squares her jaw and remembers what Max had said.
"If he doesn't fix this, if he doesn't explain himself? Dump his ass."
Eleven steps closer, her eyes trained on Mike's. He looks wary, and for a fleeting moment, she's glad. He should be wary. He treated her like garbage. He lied.
"I dump your ass," she declares.
Then she turns and walks towards the bus. Max follow, and when they collapse into the seats, they start laughing. It's a strange relief, she thinks as she claps her hand against Max's in a high five. She should be upset — maybe later, she will be. But right now, Mike is getting the medicine. Now he knows what it's like to feel like garbage.
For most of the ride, they talk and laugh some more. It's good.
Until something happens: the bus takes a turn too sharply, or the ice cream is bad. Eleven feels dizzy and she thinks she hears tires squeal. The bus stops abruptly, and she catches herself with her free hand against the seat ahead of her.
"What—" She stops, looking at the empty seat beside her. The seat Max had been in just a second ago. "Max?"
Eleven looks around, but the rest of the bus is just the same unfamiliar faces. No, not the same. Their clothes are different. Some of them are looking at her like she's the weird one.
She's always the weird one.
The bus doors hiss open, indicating they've reached a stop.
"Max?" she calls again. But she's still not there. She stands; does she feel unsteady because of the bus? Or because she's afraid?
It feels like a forever walk to the bus doors, and the driver is giving her a bored, impatient look by the time she reaches them.
"Sorry," she whispers.
She steps off the bus, and onto a cold, snow-trimmed sidewalk. It's winter again. She's not dressed for this, but for the moment, she doesn't notice the cold. All she notices is that this isn't Hawkins.
"Max?" she asks again, first a whisper, and then a scream. "Max!"
She doesn't know where she is. She doesn't know where Max is. This isn't the Void. This isn't Hawkins. Eleven turns around, breath starting to come quicker.
"Max! Mike! Mike!"
He lied. He's still lying. Nana isn't sick. Eleven squares her jaw and remembers what Max had said.
"If he doesn't fix this, if he doesn't explain himself? Dump his ass."
Eleven steps closer, her eyes trained on Mike's. He looks wary, and for a fleeting moment, she's glad. He should be wary. He treated her like garbage. He lied.
"I dump your ass," she declares.
Then she turns and walks towards the bus. Max follow, and when they collapse into the seats, they start laughing. It's a strange relief, she thinks as she claps her hand against Max's in a high five. She should be upset — maybe later, she will be. But right now, Mike is getting the medicine. Now he knows what it's like to feel like garbage.
For most of the ride, they talk and laugh some more. It's good.
Until something happens: the bus takes a turn too sharply, or the ice cream is bad. Eleven feels dizzy and she thinks she hears tires squeal. The bus stops abruptly, and she catches herself with her free hand against the seat ahead of her.
"What—" She stops, looking at the empty seat beside her. The seat Max had been in just a second ago. "Max?"
Eleven looks around, but the rest of the bus is just the same unfamiliar faces. No, not the same. Their clothes are different. Some of them are looking at her like she's the weird one.
She's always the weird one.
The bus doors hiss open, indicating they've reached a stop.
"Max?" she calls again. But she's still not there. She stands; does she feel unsteady because of the bus? Or because she's afraid?
It feels like a forever walk to the bus doors, and the driver is giving her a bored, impatient look by the time she reaches them.
"Sorry," she whispers.
She steps off the bus, and onto a cold, snow-trimmed sidewalk. It's winter again. She's not dressed for this, but for the moment, she doesn't notice the cold. All she notices is that this isn't Hawkins.
"Max?" she asks again, first a whisper, and then a scream. "Max!"
She doesn't know where she is. She doesn't know where Max is. This isn't the Void. This isn't Hawkins. Eleven turns around, breath starting to come quicker.
"Max! Mike! Mike!"
