Lost boys • Will Byers

10

Charlie's POV

Charlie stared at himself in the mirror. If it hadn't been for the bags under his eyes and his messy hair, you'd think he was going to a wedding.

Before he left, his dad was a lawyer. He had too many suits to pick from.

Pam had gotten rid of most of them, but there were still a lot.

This particular one had a black suit jacket and pants the same color. The shirt was a grey color and the tie was solid black.

It was, like every hand-me-down from anyone, too big for him.

He had his mom pin it so that it looked normal.

Charlie had invited Steve to the funeral, thinking he wouldn't show.

That's why he was surprised when Steve showed up at his doorstep with flowers to give to his mother. Everyone was always giving her flowers. Charlie didn't get it.

Was that supposed to make her feel better? She didn't even like flowers.

Steve looked perfect in his suit. No doubt he didn't have to borrow one of his dad's and even if he did, he definitely wouldn't have had to pin up the sleeves.

"You look good." Steve said quietly, sitting down on the couch.

"You too."

The awkward silence didn't make things any better.

After his grandma died, Charlie had a sudden burst of adrenaline. He did everything he could in such a short span of time. He didn't like to think about things like death, but they always seemed to bring themselves up.

Especially late at night when he couldn't sleep.

Flashbacks of trying not to cry too loudly, fretting that Danny'd wake up and ask what was wrong. He remembered using a pillow to muffle the noise— not that it helped much.

"Your mom can drive me, right?" Steve asked suddenly, snapping Charlie out of his hazy state. "Yeah, of course. Let's get in the car."

Steve sat close to Charlie talking about his day at school and how he and Nancy kissed behind the bleachers.

"No offense, but I don't really wanna hear about Nancy right now." Charlie said quietly.

"Oh... yeah of course."

Charlie felt tears beginning to leak out of his eyes. Aggressively, he brushed at his face, trying to wipe them away.

Steve wrapped his arms around Charlie's body. Charlie, feeling awkward about the whole situation, didn't reciprocate the hug.

"Since when did you become such a homo, Harrington?" He grumbled. "Why is it homo that I want to give my best friend a hug after something bad happens to him?" Steve asked, his eyesbrows raised.

"Because it is."

When the car doors opened, Steve pulled away, giving Charlie a firm pat on the back.

"Are you guys ready?" Al asked, sliding into his seat and turning the car on. Pam set her purse on the floor and sat in the passenger seat.

"Yeah, we're good." Steve answered, putting on his seatbelt. Charlie said nothing

The funeral for the two boys was uncomfortable. Charlie watched Danny's friends in the front, chattering away as if their best friends weren't dead and buried six feet under.

After the funeral, Charlie sat next to Steve and Nancy, nibbling on off brand Nilla wafers. "D'you think they're okay where ever they are?" Charlie asked, using a tiny straw to stir the boiling hot chocolate they'd given out.

"Of course, I mean, they're with each other, and your grandma's probably with Danny too." Nancy smiled sadly. "Yeah... but what if there's nothing there?" He asked. "We won't know, Charlie." Nancy said softly.

"Excuse me."

Charlie stood up and walked briskly towards the exit, ignoring the calls of relatives he'd never met before. People who looked happy.

Happy that Danny was dead.

Nancy told him some kid was making fun of Danny and Will and Mike Wheeler pushed him over. She also said he peed his pants, but he didn't ask further about that.

"Hey Charlie." Charlie looked and saw one of Danny's friends. He'd forgotten his name as Danny never talked about anyone other than Will. In fact, Danny never brought anyone else home either.

"Hi." He said quietly, leaning up against the building.

"I saw you walk out, you looked—"

"I know. I'm a mess."

"Danny talked about you all the time, you know."

"I can't say the same. I don't even know who you are." Charlie told him. "Dustin Henderson. I'm the bard."

"I never understood that shit when Danny would talk about it." Charlie had his arms crossed. He looked down at the kid. "That's okay... Danny never understood it either. He was always asking Will for help— interrupting the campaigns of course—"

"What do you mean he was asking for help? He never shut up about that game. He was teaching me. He knows everything."

Dustin frowned then shrugged.

"Guess maybe he got the hang of it after all."

A sudden tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned to see Jim Hopper standing behind him. As usual, he looked ragged, like he'd just gotten out of bed and hadn't bothered nursing last night's hangover.

"We need to talk."

It's short but I wanted to get this out there. I feel bad about not updating. Forgot people actually like this book haha.