even weirder stuff || stranger things x female reader (season two)

seven - fucking genius

Saturday, November 3, 1984

"I think Hopper's dead," you sigh while talking to yourself, sinking deeper into the Byers' couch. You had slept over in the living room while Mike had gotten the spare mattress next to Will's bed. Overall, you had had a good night, if you didn't count the crippling anxiety and the sound of Joyce pacing around in her room.

You weren't sure she had slept at all. She didn't look like she had slept at all.

Right now she was sitting in the middle of the living room, not far away from the couch you were comfortably installed in, and staring at the wall as if the answer to the universe was hidden among the vines Will had drawn the day before.

"Do you think he's dead?" You say in a light tone despite your extremely pessimistic thoughts. "Joyce? Joyce?"

You figured maybe she had fallen asleep with her eyes open, because she didn't answer. Or maybe she was possessed by some kind of weird demon.

"Joyce, are you possessed by some kind of weird demon? Answer if yes."

No answer.

"Good for you," you throw your blanket off your body and walk to the kitchen to get some pancakes from the war supplies you had accidentally cooked yesterday. As you pace around in the living room, plate in hand and groggily glaring at the mysterious drawings, your eyes fall on the phone.

"I forgot to call Mona!" You gasp and set your plate on the coffee table. "Joyce, you mind if I borrow your phone for a bit?"

No answer.

"Thanks," you are already dialing Mona's house number and waiting for her to pick up. However, an annoying little voice answers instead.

"Hello?"

"Lisa!" You act cheerful, hoping she won't hang up on you. "It's me. (Y/n)."

"Who?"

"Don't play around with me, child. I know where you live. Can I talk to Mona?"

"She's still sleeping. I don't mind waking her u-"

"Oh, no, don't. Unless you've got a death wish. Do you know if she's okay?"

"Why wouldn't she be, she's always fine."

"Uh... Yeah, right. Well, did she seem as fine as usual?"

"I don't know. She's been in her room ever since she came back home yesterday."

"Ah. She must have been tired," you try to convince Lisa, but also yourself as you twirl the telephone handset cable around your finger nervously. "Well... Tell her I called."

"This isn't your usual number. Where are you calling from?"

"Wow, calm down Sherlock. I'm at a friend's house," you lie through your teeth, looking around at the mess of a house you were in. Of course, you could call Will, even Joyce, a friend, but this wasn't your usual sleepover.

"Alright. I'll tell Mona you called, if I feel like it."

"Brat."

"Sorry?"

"Adorable, beautiful, amazing Lisa."

"That's a bit more like it. Bye, (Y/n)."

"Bye," you say, then make sure you hang up before you continue, "brat."

You find yourself standing in front of the couch, considering calling your house to explain why you weren't there last night. You wonder whether they had noticed your absence.