it's the end of the world as we know it.

24. the spaces in between

It was the day the Byers was set to move, and Frankie didn't want to get out of bed. He had spent the night at their house, and he was curled into Jonathan's side. The only thing they had left to pack was the bed sheets when they woke up.

He spent most of his time the past two months at their house when his home was practically a war zone. After the last incident when the police had shown up and Adam spent the night detained, Carol finally decided enough was enough, and she went in search of the best divorce lawyer. She could care less about the rumors that would spread as long as she and her children were safe.

Jonathan shifted and opened an eye as he realized Frankie was awake now, and he gently ran a hand through his hair. He remembered after that night how Frankie had been - trembling, anxious about coming over. Jonathan had to reassure him that they were okay, that no one would know.

He just didn't want to get out of the bed, knowing that if they got out, in a few short hours Jonathan would be locking himself in the moving van and shipping himself off, leaving Frankie behind.

"Frankie," Jonathan murmurs, his lips brushing Frankie's forehead.

Frankie closes his eyes again. "Hm?"

"We have to get up. Finish loading things in." Jonathan told him.

"Ugh, do we?" Frankie groaned, frowning.

"Everyone will be here by 11 and we have to be gone by 2."

Frankie heaved a sigh and sat up, grumbling to himself as he did so. He looked down at Jonathan, soaking in his last few looks of him. His soft brown hair, his deep brown eyes that Frankie loved so much. He swallowed thickly, before sitting up fully and moving to the edge of the bed. "Yeah, I guess we better get going."

They both changed and headed to the living room where the entire house was in boxes, aside from a few last minute things that the others were going to help with. Will and Joyce were already awake and talking, and a few minutes later El came trudging down the hall with a yawn.

"Is Luke not out here?" She glanced around the kitchen, not seeing the blond teen anywhere.

Joyce shook her head. "He wasn't in your room?"

El frowned. "He must've gotten up early and gone somewhere."

"Well, it is his last day in Hawkins. . . " Joyce trailed off. An uneasy feeling washed over the group, a mixture of sadness and anxiousness. She cleared her throat. "I'll get a bit of breakfast started, everyone get ready, then we'll eat and the others should be here, alright?"

Being the only ones dressed already, Frankie and Jonathan lingered in the kitchen, helping themselves to some mugs while Joyce got the coffee brewing.

"How is your mom, Frankie?" Joyce asks, glancing over at the teen over her shoulders as she cooked. She knew about the divorce and had given Carol her apologizes the last time she saw her, but she hadn't heard much since.

Frankie shrugged. "It's hard for her. Even though he was an asshole, y'know. . ."

Jonathan watched Frankie over his mug. Frankie never talks about his father, even after the whole fiasco last year when they first met Murray. Especially at school, Frankie always seemed like the kind of person who never had any problems in life with the facade he showed.

"I've dealt with assholes, trust me, I get it." Joyce laughs, and Frankie grinned. He also rarely heard about Jonathan's father, and Frankie wasn't around for the short time he was in Hawkins when Will had gone missing. But if he was friends with Frankie's father, he knew he was just as bad.