The Reason I Can't Help But Love You.

Missing, have you seen me?

A kid missing.

Poor family.

I could only relate to a parent missing, but a sibling? I couldn't if I tried. My brother never lets me forget him. Trust me, I'm the one who shoved him into clothes after his expedition last night.

And I wouldn't have it any other way.

I can't imagine it. Trying to keep it together with the unknown.

I mean yes he's reported missing, hadn't been missing for that long. But from what I've known of the Byers, around town, they're good people. Bad things happen to good people.

And something just felt off.

   I normally don't get involved in other people's nightmares, I mean I have enough.
But when I saw the oldest Byers, I felt my chest weigh.

I was about to wish my condolences like every other person, but then Wheeler splits from her cult and goes over to the teen.

And I decide that I don't think a stranger's condolences would mean anything, so I stay in my path and casually pass Wheeler.
She gives me a polite half-smile before talking to Jonathan.

She seemed so polite. In a way, I've seen faked on many faces. Her mother carries the same. My mother did. It's the face you carry when you think you're being what you're supposed to be and then suddenly you wake up one day and the name you're being called seems as if it's the wrong person. Then you're leaving. 

   Maybe I'm projecting. 

I then passed the cult she came from.
All standing around her watching her like vultures. Carol, Tommy. H, Jackass, and Barb.

I was surprised to see Barb hanging with such assholes, but then again they're starting to collaborate.

Guess there's no preserving the decent people in this school from hienas.

The weird thing is Tommy is a normal class clown, always trying to bring light to things. But he takes them too far and uses them in the wrong areas. I think that's why he likes Carol so much, she gets his jokes. Even if they're mean. She's in on it.

They both insecurely project, so I see why they get each other.

  The next day was as boring as usual.
I met a random spoon-fed jock from Hawkins High's Best, they gave me money, and I gave them weed. Normal shit.

Then I wait for Eddie to waddle out of kindergarten, into my van, strap him into his car seat, get him some shitty ass pizza, and put on some Metallica lullaby on the way home, we get home he makes his way into his room. I go to mine.
  We take naps, and then around 6, I wake up, and fix something out of the cabinet. Open his door, trip over his pile of clothes, face plant, grab him, sit him on the floor - behind the coffee table. Turn on MTV, sit down behind him, and put curl products into his hair while he eats.

A normal little routine we picked up when we were around 14, Eddie still growing out his freshly shaved head.

  14-year-old me, wandered into the store, (when trying to find out where to get cold medicine for a sick Eddie) and found a hair aisle.

   I find it stimulating to work my hands while watching something, and Eddie was comforted by the care (and because he thinks it makes him look hot.) So I do mine in the mornings and his in the afternoons when needed.

"You know what's weird?" He asks as he stuffs his face.
"What?" I ask from behind him. "You don't hang out with anybody. Other than the few older guys and random girls from one of those goth or punk clubs you like to go to. But that's more of acquaintances. Like I have more friends than you." He says like he's thinking aloud.
I scoff, "Wow, thank you, dear brother." I say sarcastically before jerking his curls.
He yelps, "OW?! I meant like, I'm a nerd. I'll admit it, all my friends are metal-headed DND-playing nerds. That's my click. I hang out with those people, and you could be hanging out with anyone. Anyone. Everyone knows you, and not even in a bad way."
"That's not true-" I start to say.
He sits his bowl down, "No, like people know you. They don't associate anything bad with you, I have a negative trademark going for me. And you have a more positive or neutral one. I bet you if you talked to Carol or-"