༻𝑇𝐻𝑅𝐼𝐿𝐿 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐻𝑈𝑁𝑇༺

ꜰᴏᴜʀ

The minute I saw Vance I knew I was dead. Or I thought, at least.

I wanted to turn around then and there, but I knew I had to stop being a pussy and just face him. As I walked closer, I noticed blood dripping slightly down his face.

Weird.

I stopped once I approached him. The thought of him gutting me like a hungry mountain lion completely left my mind once I caught sight of how busted up his face was.

"Are you going to take a fucking picture?" he snapped, his voice cracking slightly. That's when I realized he was crying. Vance fucking Hopper was crying.

He quickly wiped at his watery eyes, "Just piss off, Y/N."

I didn't say anything. I simply sat down on the curb next to him, placing down the bags I was holding. I wasn't going to ask what happened. I assumed it was probably something he didn't want to talk about due to the fact that he was crying.

"I thought the cops got you?" I asked, digging the paper towels out of the bag.

"Yeah. They brought me back to my dads. Now I'm here." he said. His voice was soft, not angry and loud.

I slightly held the paper towel up to his bloody face, looking at him for a moment to get permission. He nodded, still glaring at me through teary eyes.

So, I began dabbing gently at the cuts and bruises that covered his face. At first I thought Vance was nothing but an asshole. I mean, yeah, he is. But now I can tell there's a reason behind it. I bet his dads abusive or something, that would explain his insane anger issues.

I wiped away the blood from his busted lip, meeting eyes with his. Jesus. It was just until now that I realized how pretty his stupid face was.

"You should go." Vance muttered, "I probably look pathetic as hell right now."

I shot him a look. "Dude, your face is pretty fucked up. I'd be upset too."

"Why are you even helping me? I thought I scared you shitless." he retorted, turning away and messing with his leather bracelet.

"You didn't." I said bluntly.

He side-eyed me. "Then explain why you were eyeing me like a fucking hawk that whole time in the Grab-N-Go. You're not as sneaky as you think, you know."

"Well," I rolled my eyes, "Excuse me if I didn't take your little threat yesterday lightly."

Vance laughed, sending shivers down my spine. "Are you kidding? I just said that to fuck with you, Y/N. Stop taking everything so literally."

"Fine," I said, putting the paper towels back into the bag and standing up, "I'll just go home then."

I began to walk past him.

"Wait."

I stopped, glancing back at him. He wiped away at his teary eyes again.

"Can you just.. stay? Just for a little bit." he looked away, clearly embarrassed by the vulnerability he was showing. "You don't have to talk or anything if you don't want to. Just be here."

I smiled gently, sitting back down next to him. "Vance?"

He looked at me. "Yeah?"

"If you don't mind me asking," I looked at the pavement of the road, "What happened?"

I noticed him hesitate at the question. "Not that you have to answer or anything, I just—.."

"— My fucking asswipe of a dad." Vance answered, cutting me off instantly. "He wasn't too happy with me when I showed up at his door, being told that I'm now banned from the Grab-N-Go for beating someone up."

"Oh." I nodded, "I'm sorry, Vance. You're welcome at my place anytime. Just don't mention to my mom that your kind-of a criminal."

He laughed softly. "Thanks, Y/N. And uh, sorry for scaring you yesterday. I guess I can't really control myself sometimes."

"Don't worry about it." I smiled.

Maybe Vance Hopper isn't as bad as everyone says he is.

The two of us continued to sit on the curb, watching as the sun set and turned the sky into a montage of pastel colors. I talked to him about my life back before I moved to Denver. I told him about my friends and how my moms probably the biggest procrastinator on the planet.

I learned a lot about Vance, and he learned a lot about me. I was a little scared to admit that we were friends, though. I don't know.

Everything was going so perfectly. Until
a black van rounded the corner, parking next to us. The side of it read in bold, blue letters: "Abracadabra, Entertainment & Supplies."

Vance and I exchanged a confused look as the window rolled down, revealing an old man with long greasy hair and a top hat. He flashed a crooked grin before speaking.

"You two need some help?"

I looked at Vance, my mind instantly tracing back to Finney and what he had said about The Grabber. Something about this guy didn't seem right.

"Vance. Get the fuck up. Let's go." I said lowly to him as the man got out of the car. At this point we both knew it was The Grabber.

I stood up, and the man didn't waste a second to shove my ass back onto the ground. Shit. This could not be happening. I couldn't get taken, Mom needs me. She'd absolutely lose her shit if I went missing.

Plus, I don't want to fucking die.

I watched with horror as Vance tried to fight him off, The Grabber tackling him to the ground and grabbing a handful of his hair before slamming his head onto the concrete. Vance went limp as he fell unconscious and was thrown into the back of the van.

At this point I knew I was dead, without Vance my chances of being caught were through the roof. I didn't give up though. I didn't hesitate to make a run for it with The Grabber charging after me like a predator chases it's prey.

He grabbed onto the back of my shirt and yanked me backwards with all his strength, spraying some sort of chemical shit into my eyes and mouth. I've never felt anything more painful in my whole life. I couldn't see anything, my eyes felt like they were on fucking fire and my throat was welling up so unbelievably bad.

The chemicals took over my body and I passed out, the last thing being seen was the van door closing.

The Grabber got us.