in your dreams harrington

chapter 4

...

You take a risk, by skipping your morning classes, to go to the local Radio Shack. There has to be something wrong with the damn phone. Something.
"Why hello there young lady!" A friendly voice quickly greets you. Is there a name attached to that voice?
"Uh hi-" You look around for a name. This guy seems familiar. Ah, a name tag. "-Bob?"
"That's me! Now what can I help you with? I see your phone is in some rough shape, we just got a brand new shipment of Motorola-"
"I really appreciate it, Bob, but I came to inquire about this specific phone, I assume you're a tech-y guy?
"The tech-y-est you'll get!"
He examines the phone with a number of different hums and hmms. You were in the AV club a long time ago, but man this guy was a different kind of geeky. You must've seen at least seven different projects behind the main counter.
"Well, I can't seem to find anything, you said it just-let out a volt of electricity?" He says
"Yeah," You sigh. "Are you really sure there's nothing?"
"I'm really sorry, I mean I'm baffled, and they called me Bob the Brain in high school." He chuckled.
"Right. Well thank you anyway-have a good one."
You reply, trying to hide your ever growing concern.
However you stop yourself before leaving.
"YOU'RE BOB!" You grin.
"..Yes I thought that was established."
"You founded the AV club! Bob Newman!" Quickly clearing your throat. As much as you hated to admit it, you'd begun to reflect your father. The miserableness, the reclusiveness. Too scared to open up to new people. Too scared you'd lose them like you'd lost everyone else. You'd begun to find warmth and comfort in the unforgiving cold. Comfort that maybe you'd be able to save others from the Hopper's family curse.
"I was in it for a little while after my dad and I moved back here. You helped a lot of people." You say averting eye contact. You didn't like to admit weakness, but you felt this Bob character should know.
A big stupid grin spread on his face.
"That's still going? Ha! Awesome!" He said finding it hard to contain his giggles. Yeah. Super geek. "And what do I call this fellow member?"
"Y/n," You hesitate. "Y/n Hopper."
Bob's smile fades for a moment, but quickly returns after a shake of the head.
"Jim's kid? I knew him in high school! Tell him I said hello!"

You find yourself in the Hawkins high parking lot searching for your close friend. You find him of course, but not how you wanted to.
"Hey Hopper!" Steve Harrington calls you over. This can't be good.
"I didn't know your friend was such a good photographer!" He says shoving a small pile of pictures onto your chest. Shuffling through them, horror sets in on your face. Eventually you come across a picture of Nancy Wheeler undressing, and hand them over to her.
"Jonathan.."
He can't even look at you.
At first it's disappointment. Was this really the kid who came to talk to you when you moved back to Hawkins when no one else would? The kid who was just happy to sit and listen to music with you? And then it's anger. What if this was you? How could he do this to someone? This is the stuff that ruins peoples lives.
They continue to rummage through his bag, a few pictures falling out ever once and a while, until they find his camera.
"You see you can tell he knows it was wrong, but... man that's the thing about perverts. It's hardwired into 'em." Steve Harrington begins, "We'll just have to take away his toy."
Jonathan begins to plead with them. You yourself almost intervene. Jonathan messed up. Bad. But that camera is everything to him. Everything. However you don't. You're not proud of that.
This continues on for a few moments more before Harrington shockingly begins to hand Jonathan the camera. That shock is quickly replaced with a broken camera. You wince at the sound of it hitting the ground.
The group makes off, but not before Nancy Wheeler picks up a few scraps of ripped up photographs.

After about an hour of walking the guilt begins to hit you.
"Shit."

At first it's a light knock at the door but then after a few minutes of silence your patience runs out.
BANG BANG BANG
"Jonathan Byers!" You yell. " I know you're in there! Open the door! I'm sorry alright!"
BANG BANG BANG
"Jona-"
The door suddenly swings open to reveal dishevelled looking Joyce Byers.
"Ms Byer-" But you're yet again cut off by her roughly pulling you inside. Holy shit. You look at the wall, the alphabet bet boldly painted in black surrounded by Christmas lights.
"I know, I know I sound crazy," she said frantically. "but he speaks through the lights."
Your stomach sinks.
"Ms Byers.." You sigh. "I know you're scared-"
"No! No you have to listen to me, I don't care about you what you know, you have to help me." Her words are more firm now. Commanding. "You have to see-"
Suddenly the buzzing sound of lights fill the room. All of them. Fading in and out. You stand in awe looking around the room.
"Will! Will baby talk to me!" She yells hands in the air facing the alphabet wall. "Where are you?"

R

One bulb lights up. R.

This continues.

R
I
G
H
T

H
E
R
E

"I-I don't know what that means, tell me what to do, what do I need to do? How do I get to you?" She questions.

R

U

N.

The sound of ripping wall paper emerges from
behind you. You turn to see a vague figure that seems to be trying to crawl through the wall. And Joyce's scream snaps you out of your shock. You're practically picking her up as you drag her out of the house, running as fast as you can. And you don't stop running until a truck pulls up the drive way.

You stand outside awkwardly as you hear Joyce shouting at your father. After a little while he leaves, placing his hat back on his head. The drive home is filled with tension.
"I want you to go back tomorrow and apologise to Joyce." Your Dad finally says.
"What? No that's insane. You actually don't believe me?
"You know, I really didn't take you as this kind of person, Y/n, but this crossed a line."
"Wow," You scoff. "this is fucking amazing. You are so consistent with your bullshit, and yet it shocks me every time!"
"Enough-"
"I mean first you drag me out here after Sarah, you act like she isn't dead. You never talk about her. You're never there. You act like I'm not your here, like you don't know me. Hello! Nice to meet you! I'm Y/n! You know, your 17 year old daughter-"

"Enough!"

"You've changed." You say, finishing the argument.

...