Kissing Habits.

12. The Mind Flayer

Chapter Twelve
The Mind Flayer

BACK AT THE BYERS', TENSIONS WERE HIGH. Nancy and Jonathan stuck to the couch, where Jonathan's younger brother lay asleep - or a coma, perhaps, but Camila hadn't been filled in on this part of the story yet, so it was all speculation right now. Whilst the unlikely couple stayed by the sofa, Steve stood on the other end of the room, arms crossed, glaring, half with longing, half with hate.

Camila wandered around the house, stature wavering, as she curiously followed the various pages stuck around the halls, up the walls, on the ceiling, all melded together as a map of sorts with rolls of tape. Some pieces were white, some red, some not even paper. But what they all shared in common, were the black lines, joining together as the pages overlapped, blue scribbled within the lines.

"What is all this?" She hummed as she rounded past Steve, who'd been pulled from his daze. He glanced down at her and gave a shrug, brushing his thumb over his nose. Behind them, the chief spoke demandingly on the phone to an unknown person. Camila had never met the chief before.

"Couldn't tell you," Steve replied, falling into step with the girl, who continued to walk around the small bungalow curiously. "But I think it's all got to do with the kid on the couch. Will. His name's Will."

Camila's tone softened, so as to not offend anybody else by asking such questions. "What's the deal with him? Is he okay?"

For a moment, Steve stopped his pace, which caused the girl to do so, too. He glanced over at where Will's friends sat around the dinner table, a small circle of a thing, illuminated by the single bulb hanging overhead. He took a breath, and turned back to Camila, digging his hands into his pockets.

"Okay, remember when I was telling you and your friend about what happened last year? About the Demogorgon?" He asked, to which Camila nodded, eyes wide and nervous. "Well, that kid on the couch, he saw it all firsthand, more than any of us saw. Sure, I had to fight off that thing, but this kid was stuck there for weeks, trying to stay alive."

"Stuck?" Camila hummed. "Where?"

Steve cocked his head over to where the younger kids sat around the table. "They call it the Upside Down; it's a place just like ours, but weird, I guess. Our world doesn't have gross face-opening thingies."

"I mean, it does now. Why is that? Why are they in our world now?"

The man opposite her let out a long exhale, clearly trying to take all of this in as she was. "Look, I don't know how to tell you about that. You'd be better off asking one of the kids. Sorry." And he began to saunter off.

But Camila's fingers caught hold of the fabric on the elbow of his jacket, causing him to stop, and look back at her. "Hey, I know you're bummed about Nancy and Jonathan, but we have bigger things to worry about, clearly. Like your life."

With another exhale, one that sounded similar to a scoff, but like he'd tried to disguise it, Steve turned his body back round to her. "You wouldn't get it, okay? Me and Nancy, we..." He glanced back towards the living room. "I don't know. I guess I thought we were good."

"If you have to try to win someone back after they broke up with you, they're not worth it. They won't take you back, because they've already made up their decision in their mind. Not to be the bearer of bad news, but I think she's already moved on."