Don't Panic - B. Hargrove

ONE

Summer had gone by in a haze, and autumn had taken over the small town of Hawkins, giving nature time to breathe after a long, hot summer and coloring the streets in all shades of yellow and orange.

It was a relief from the agony that had held David Byers captive in its firm grip and his beloved, soft sweaters hostage in the back of his closet. Now he was free again, enjoying the brisk breeze in his hair as he skated through the morning on his way to school. 

He hummed to himself while his right hand flapped at his side to the rhythm, keeping his brain focused on the task of following the street down towards Hawkins High. Up on his board, he felt the most alive and completely free of the rumors that followed him around like an unwanted shadow.

What had happened to his little brother, the monster that was housing in his nightmares, and the nicknames that followed him through the corridors like a curse spoken by Tommy H and his friends of jocks, were all forgotten, locked out of his bubble. The names echoed outside, trying to scratch the surface and break in. Zombie boys brother, the freak, the weirdest weirdo of Hawkins. All titles were synonymous with his name. But he didn't let them in. Up on his board outside school, they didn't define him. Sometimes it was easier to keep them at bay; other times, people made it more challenging.

So he was thankful he had the thirty minutes on his board, trailing the streets of Hawkins where absolutely no one could bother him. A time where his mind could run free and unhinged about the essential questions of life, about the book he'd just finished, the one he would start next, what his mother would dish up for dinner, and if  Steve would go see Return of the Jedi with him one more time.

No one was talking into his plans or calling him out for not listening. Luckily, things had been worse. Fighting monsters alongside Steve Harrington came with the perks of having a certain amount of protection and all the other benefits of a new, popular friend on his side. So the kicking and beating wad limited to the brief periods of time when he was caught alone. Tommy really had a timing for those.

But when he was early enough to slide into school and hide long enough in the toilets, he was saved. When he left late enough or caught a ride with Steve or Jonathan, it was manageable to end a day without another bruise or scratch on his gentle skin. He was good at timing as well.

Today would be one o; Jonathan; Jonathan had promised to take him home in time for his favorite tv show, Steve had asked him to meet in the library to read over his  college application essay, and he was going to ask him about the movie. David had plans. And that made him incredibly happy. So happy, in fact, he was grinning widely to himself as he took the next curve effortlessly.

As he reached the parking lot of Hawkins High, he stepped off his board, carrying it under his arm while stiffly marching on, expecting everyone's gaze glued to his petite frame as they usually did. He hated when they watched him like that, the smirks on their faces as they whispered to each other. What was wrong with him? What did he do this time? He could never tell. He could never read them.

Surprisingly, today was different. He was left alone. No whispering. No names. The girls who were always on board to call him words didn't even bet an eye at him as he walked by, and that startled him so much, he stopped hot in his track to see what would be more interesting than pushing him around.

Leaning against his car, a cigarette between his blush pink lips, a boy had their undivided attention as he looked around, baby blue eyes squinting in the same brooding way all the boys wore on the covers of the magazines. And David understood why he was causing such a fuzz.

He was different. Foreign. A city boy. Blond,  buff, with a pretty face and cover boy features. Precisely the type of guy the girls, fawned over.
The definition of a teenage male model, playboy written all over him and a musky, way too expensive perfume in all the right places.

That he could get behind, but the denim jeans and the denim jacket were just icky in all the wrong ways, so much it made him shiver just imagining how uncomfortable it must be to wear something out like that. He would never be caught dead in an ensemble like that, regardless if it would make him look like that.

Plus, not all the perfume in the world could cover that nasty stance of tobacco and sweat rolling off his forehead and into dark-knitted eyebrows. Strangely that seemed to attract the girl as they excitedly scanned his body and dirty blond locks with their hungry eyes as if the boy was a piece of meat.

He had never seen them do that. Not even to Steve, and the boy had always been the most attractive at Hawkins-High. Maybe Steve didn't have anything on that type of boy. Trouble was said to be tempting.

Another social thing David could not relate to. He liked it save and cozy, without much fuzz and brooding. He wanted the type of boy that was in the band, or science club. Even if none of them liked him back, he wasn't delusional. This was Hawkins, after all. And he was David 'Doodle' Byers. The weirdest weirdo. And he was completely fine with that. A love life was something for normal, popular kids with shiny smiles and sparks in their eyes—people who understood people and went on movie nights with strangers.

And right there, as if he had felt he watched him, the boy's gaze landed on him, frowning while his bedazzled fingers snipped away the stump of his smoke, paying no mind where it landed. It bored deep into his soul and stirred it unpleasantly. . David felt like he was caught at something he wasn't supposed to do, and he was aware of how strange it was to stare at another boy for that long.

Deeply uncomfortable with the sudden eye contact, he quickly averted his gaze and walked on, pretending like nothing had happened and hoping the stranger would let it slide as simple curiosity and not bother to call him out as Tommy would. And marvelously, he did. David had never been more thankful.

"Ey, Doodle!" his flight into the building was interrupted halfway by the familiar, warm voice of Steve Harrington, who approached with an arm around his girlfriend Nancy Wheeler, smiling at him, which as usual, made him fizzy inside.

"Can you take a look and tell me later? Nancy thinks it's crap, but I have high hopes, man. You get me. You'll know how to rewrite it." He passed the more petite boy a paper that was covered in Steve's surprisingly neat handwriting and flowery comments of Nancy, who, as usual, didn't dare to tell her boyfriend the truth about his horrible writing style.

Lucky for David, who happily traded help for the first and only friends he ever had. Apart from Jonathan. But Jonathan didn't count as it was his duty as his older twin to love him unconditionally.

"So I'm your only hope? " David joked and took the paper like a precious gem.

"You're my Obi-Wan, dude," Steve said, remembering the line from when the two of them had watched the boy's favorite movie at the drive-in. David beamed at that, which made Nancy chuckle.

"I have no idea who you have that patience with him."  she shook her head, earning a pouty lip from her boyfriend.

"I'm broke. He's paying for the movies. So I don't mind he's lacking a few brain cells," David responded in painful honesty, then shrugged. Steve stared at him, brown eyes wide, mouth agape; even his signature lock looked hurt.

"Rude!" he breathed out dramatically, with David just raising an eyebrow.

"You know I'm right."

"Yeah, but you don't have to say it that way. Just do it like Nancy and say I have other qualities," Steve complained.

"What other qualities?" David asked, genuinely curious about what the boy would list as such. Nancy burst into laughter as the older boy was lost for words.

"You know I didn't mean to hurt you," David quickly added as he struggled to read what was going on in his friend's mind.

"Don't worry. He can take it." Nancy waved his concern off with a soft giggle.

"Yeah, he can take it." Steve echoed in a mumble.