Halley's comet | Steve Harrington

ii. xxiii self reflection and monsters

"𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝑰'𝒎 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆."

⇜☾✩☽⇝

"Halley, Halley!" Mike was pulling at her arm, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Come on, we have to go." She was confused, at first, her mind still caught between past and present. Was Lonnie there? No.

No.

She snapped back completely at the sight of Jonathan carrying Will in his arms. The younger boy was passed out with thick beads of sweat pricking at his hairline. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong.

The eldest Byers boy was already breaking free from the shed, kicking the door open and sending it flying backwards. The dark night suddenly invaded by the cruel, artificial light from the makeshift interrogation room.

Jonathan was quick to leave, rushing outside and toward the house, but Halley, much to Mike's dismay, was a little more weary. She wanted to know what was happening; to make sure anything left in the shed wouldn't be missed in case they needed it later.

Fuck. This whole night was just going to shit.

What was going on? Halley had zoned out for maybe five minutes, seven tops, how had everything gone so bad so fast? It seemed like they were just getting to Will, too. Like they had a chance of saving him. Maybe that was wishful thinking, though: to think the problem could be so easily fixed that all they needed were a few tear filled memories.

But that wasn't what she needed to be focusing on.

"Mike, what's going on? What happened?" she was watching her brothers up ahead, just about to disappear from her view, she knew that she and Mike needed to follow and catch up. But there was a bad feeling blossoming in her chest. She couldn't see Hopper or her mom, and that made her feel even worse.

Mike was pulling her toward the house, no longer waiting for her to follow him of her own accord. "It was the phone," he said, finally. His voice was quiet, as if he was worried he would wake up Will. "The sound, I mean. He recognized it."

Mike's face was pale, but the cool air turned the tip of his nose a bright pink. The sight was so... childish, it was almost comical. But it wasn't. Because no matter how young Mike looked, shivering in the cold wind, the edge of anxious nerves etching across his face made him look far too old.

"We're pretty sure that means...the uh, demodogs are on their way," Mike added, checking on either side, as if saying the word would make the creatures appear.

Halley nodded, trying to regain her composure. She needed to get it together. She was supposed to be an adult in the situation. Keeping herself calm was the least she could do, Mike needed a rock right now. And someone needed to pretend to be the composed, reasonable one. Halley needed to be a mature adult. For Mike. For Will.