Briggs is restless, bored with the mundanity of Hawkins and the drag of rural Indiana November. That energy is channeled into laps up and down the Hawkins High pool, where he's worked his way up the ranks of the swim team and found a rival in one of...
COREY SITTING CASUALLYon the couch, shoeless feet tucked underneath her and tossing popcorn into her mouth with startling accuracy, is not at all an unusual sight in the Davis-Reyes-Holbrook household—Briggs is still working on that, what to call their place, considering his mom hyphenated her maiden name and new last name but Briggs kept his dad's surname. Davis-Reyes-Holbrook is sort of a mouthful.
No matter what he calls his house, Briggs can recall countless occasions on which he's strolled past the living room and seen Corey in this exact position, not a care in the world but whatever was on the TV and casting flickering sheets of color over her intrigued face.
What is not normal, though, is the fact that Briggs returns from school to find Corey in this position, seemingly unruffled and occupied by the TV, the day after her best friend died.
Back in the darkroom, Briggs and his nonsensical group of apparent would-be monster-hunters agreed the best course of action would be to hunt down the faceless thing tomorrow, after the funeral—no school because of Veteran's Day—the more pressing course of action being tracking down Corey and Mike and, by extension, their little gang of gamer scientists. Briggs dropped Mack off at home and swung by the Wheelers', not seeing any of the kids' bikes in the driveway.
Meaning either Corey was home, or...God, he didn't want to think about where else she could be.
And arriving home to find Corey safe and sound, while unexpected, is a blessing, a flood of relief that wraps around Briggs' bones like a fleece and whispers it's okay, you can breathe now. Briggs doesn't know who picked her up from the Wheelers' or dropped her off at home, but as he toes off his shoes in the entryway and observes her through the open stretch of wall, every cell in his body sings something along the lines of thank the Lord. Thank the Lord Corey is sitting innocently in the living room and not out hunting monsters with a bunch of overconfident thirteen-year-olds.
But.
Briggs knows Corey, despite the months he spent trying not to. She's never been one to shy away from emotions, to pack them down and tuck them into hidden places behind her ribcage until they boil over the way Briggs is so prone to. No, Corey's always been the one to let the tears flow, let the thoughts fall unbidden from her lips until everything is in the air, in the open, off her chest.
So the fact that she seems to have wholly recovered from the news that Will Byers' lifeless body was pulled from the quarry last night just doesn't sit right with Briggs. Maybe last night she cried out all the tears she had, maybe she just needs a break from the emotional trauma of losing her best friend. Maybe this has shaken Corey up on such a deep level that she's forgotten her own grieving process.
