Demise of Mayfield

Chapter Four: The Feelings That Are Felt

Jonathan flinched as pieces of hail hammered against the windowpane, ruthlessly breaking the glass into pieces and hitting the ground. He pulled himself behind the counter, watching as the employee ran to the employee's room with panic. He groaned and shook his head, "Lucas, Mike, El, back away from the windows." He said.

Lucas staggered back, his eyes wide as he watched the lightning illuminate the skies. "Isn't… this what Will always saw?" He looked at Mike.

Mike's mouth was open, but as he tried to form his thoughts into words, no sound came out. He just scratched the back of his head and grumbled, "Yeah… it seems like it for sure." He stepped back like Jonathan had said. He soon eyed Eleven, and his heart almost jumped out of his chest.

Eleven was stepping closer to the window, using the tip of her finger to send any bits of hail away from her. Face visible pale, her raised eyebrows pulled her eyes open even wider. A lump formed at the back of her throat, and she forcefully gulped it down. She stood, her hands on the glass that was left over from the shattered window. "No," she breathed out, feeling her lungs agonizingly keep in her breath. "No, no, no-."

She threw her arms at her sides, keeping her lips pinched as her gaze fell while eyeing the red storm. She began to thrash, but she eased down as she felt Mike's arms wrap around behind her. She finally let her breath out, her heart beating senseless in her chest. "Mike…"

"What is it, El?" Mike gently turned her around, directing her away from the window. "What's wrong?"

El looked at him with teary eyes, "I think… I think it's One…"

Lucas's lips parted, and he looked at Eleven while heaving out a breath. Glancing at the ground soon after, he kicked at the chair and sank down on the floor - sitting as he buried his face in his arms. "We should've done a better job," he murmured.

Eleven felt her heart almost crush into pieces, and she got to her knees, "Lucas, you did everything you could." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "You did your best." 

"That's not true!" Lucas looked at her. "Our plan got fucking messed up because of me and my selfishness. I wanted to be cool, I wanted to, but that… that ruined so much." He choked out, his voice croaking as he gasped harshly.  His lips curled in a smile, letting out a laugh, a disheartened laugh. "I won't be surprised if Max hates me for not waking her up."

"She won't hate you," Mike got down too. "I know so."

"Oh please," Lucas scoffed a little, giving him a scornful look, "you weren't here when we all dealt with Vecna…"

"Well," Mike scratched the back of his head, "I may not have been here, but I know she won't hate you. She loves you!"

Eleven held Lucas's hand, her eyes wide, "It's true, Lucas."

Lucas looked at both of them, a desperate breath leaving his mouth, and he leaned his head back against the piece of furniture. "Is it…?" He said groggily. Tears were pricking the corners of his eyes the same way cactus spikes poked at the skin. It felt like he was cutting onions, the way their odor caused a burning sensation in the eyes that made them tear up. So painful, such a burning sensation. He hated it. It was something he could dread no matter what it was. Why did he have to cry right now?

Eleven pressed Lucas's hand a bit tighter, "I promise." Her eyebrows were raised, her lips in a thin line.

"Okay."

Mike looked at Jonathan, "Any way we can head home now?"

Jonathan came from behind the counter, and he took a look at the outside. "I dunno, it still looks pretty bad…"