little lost sheep

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

            If Gabe was being honest, a large part of him was deathly afraid of Eddie Munson.

He was probably the oldest kid in the school, held back at least twice from graduating Hawkins High, and the type of boy Gabe's grandparents always warned him to stay away from. With his long, slightly matted hair, embroidered jean jacket, and copious tattoos, Eddie was the epitome of what most believed to be a real bad kid. And it certainly didn't help that he was pretty notorious for being the school's primary drug dealer.

Despite all of this, however, he was also the founder of the Hellfire Club, Hawkins High's very own D&D group. And, as a part of it (he'd been recruited along with Dustin, Lucas and Mike right after the Byers had moved away), Gabe was forced to interact with Eddie on the daily. Still, even after months of being around him, he hadn't gotten used to his unpredictable personality.

Which meant that the prospect of asking him to postpone tonight's session had turned Gabe into a jumble of stress.

When Gabe, Mike, and Dustin started to approach their typical lunch table, Eddie was theatrically reading from Newsweek, the magazine meant for soccer moms who were avid participants in PTA meetings. It typically had articles about how video games were rotting children's brains and why the 'old days' were so much better. Today, though, it seemed as if those White, middle-class, Catholic women had decided to go after D&D.

"'The Devil has come to America,'" Eddie drawled. "'Dungeons and Dragons, at first regarded as a harmless game of make-believe, now has both parents and psychologists concerned. Studies have linked violent behaviour to the game, saying it promotes satanic worship, ritual sacrifice, sodomy, suicide, and even...'"

He slammed the magazine onto the table and made a face. "'...Murder.'"

The other members of the Hellfire Club—Grant and Jeff, both seniors, and Gareth, a junior—burst into laughter. Dustin visibly gulped.

"Shit, he seems really revved up today," he muttered.

"He's always revved up," Mike replied. "We'll just act casual."

"Casual."

"Casual."

"Right, okay. Totally."

"Cool as cucumbers," Gabe said, then immediately winced. Maybe he should let his friends do the talking.

With their trays in hand—Gabe's contained a pile of canned corn, pieces from a fruit cup, two chicken legs and a bun—they made their way over to the table. Gabe dropped into his usual seat beside Mike and set down his backpack. As usual, there was an empty seat where Lucas was meant to be—he was off with the basketball team. Not that Gabe blamed him.

For some reason, Mike and Dustin seemed to view Lucas's decision to join the team as some kind of betrayal to the party. It was ridiculous, especially for Mike—after all, he'd been the one to skip out on group hangouts in order to make out with El last summer. Lucas finding other friends was not abandonment, especially since he still hung out with the Hellfire Club as often as he could. Before today, he'd done his best to attend every meeting, getting as excited by the story as everyone else was. So, who cared if he pursued other interests? Who cared if he occasionally hung out with someone else?

Apparently, Dustin and Mike.

"Society has to blame something," Grant was saying. Gabe stabbed his fork into his corn. "We're an easy target."

"Exactly," Eddie agreed. "We're the freaks because we like to play a fantasy game. But as long as you're into band or science..." Here, he sprung out of his seat and hopped onto the table, taking a step forward with each word. Gabe pulled his tray into his lap. "Or parties..."

One of the juniors flipped him off.

"Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets..." Eddie continued, raising his voice and cupping his hands over his mouth to make sure everyone could hear him. Across the room, the people on the basketball team turned around, booing.

"Loser!" one shouted.

Jason Carver sprung to his feet. "You want something, freak?"

Mimicking his Hellfire Club shirt, Eddie held two fingers on each side of his head, representing horns, and stuck out his tongue. Dustin and Mike burst into laughter, and Jason's face contorted. He looked away.

Eddie walked back down the length of the table. "It's forced conformity. That's what's..." he leaped off the table and pranced towards a teacher, startling her into a pole, "Killing the kids!"

Everyone laughed again. Gabe put his tray back on his table.

"That's the real monster," Eddie finished, returning to his seat.

"So, uh, speaking of monsters..." Dustin began. Mike sucked in a breath. "Uh... Lucas has to do his, uh, balls-in-laundry-baskets game. So... he's not gonna be able to make it to Hellfire tonight. And I know there's no way we can beat your sadistic campaign without him. So, me, Gabe, and Mike, we were talking, shooting the shit, and we were thinking that maybe we might..."

"Postpone," Mike finished.

Gabe was just about to hold up a thumbs-up when the rest of the table burst into protests.

"Postpone?" Gareth shrieked. "You can't just drop this on us."

"Over my dead body," Grant sneered.

"Shut up!" Eddie snapped. "You saying Sinclair's been taken in by the dark side?"

"Uh, something like that," Mike said. Gabe glared at him.

"It's not a 'dark side'," he protested. "Yeah, they're basketball players, but some of them are really nice."

Eddie threw a pretzel at him. It bounced off of Gabe's forehead and landed in the middle of the table. Gabe glared at it, his skin twitching. It was probably caked in saliva.

"So, rather than find a sub for him, you want... you want to postpone 'The Cult of Vecna'?" Eddie asked. His tone was low and threatening. On any other day, this would have been enough to shut Gabe up completely.

"I... I don't want to postpone it," Mike protested. "We don't want to postpone it."

"I do," Gabe said. Everyone's heads snapped over to stare at him.

"What?" Gareth asked.

"Lucas asked us to go to his game, and I think we should. I mean, I want to know what happens next in The Cult of Vecna as much as everyone here, but I think I can wait until after spring break. This is really important to Lucas. It's the championship."

"Oh, it's the championship?" Eddie snapped, leaping to his feet. At Gabe's nod of assent, he narrowed his eyes and began to make his way toward him. "Can I level with you? Jeff graduates this year. Gareth's got, what? A year and a half? Me, I am army-crawling my way toward a D in Ms. O'Donnells. If I don't blow her final, I'm gonna walk that stage next month, I'm gonna look Principal Higgins dead in the eye, I'm gonna flip him the bird, I'm gonna snatch that diploma. And I'm gonna run like hell outta here."

"Didn't you say that last year?" Gareth asked.

"And the year before that?" Jeff added.

"Yeah, yeah, and I was full of shit," Eddie replied. "This year's different. This year is my year. I can feel it. '86, baby. You know what that means? It means you boys are the future of Hellfire."

He put one hand on Gabe's shoulder, another on Dustin's. Gabe tried not to flinch at the unwanted contact.

"I knew it the moment I saw you," Eddie continued. "You sat on that table right over there, looking like... looking like three little lost sheep." He looked to Dustin. "You were wearing a Weird Al T-shirt, which I thought was brave."

"Thank you," Dustin said.

"Mike, you were wearing whatever shit your mommy bought you from the goddamn Gap."

Everyone burst into laughter, including Mike. Gabe just sighed.

"And you?" Finally, Eddie turned towards him. "Gabriel Burton. You were a fresh little Boy Scout, weren't you? All dressed up like you were going to Sunday Service."

Again, the table broke into a fit of laughter. Gabe's face burned.

Before things could get too boisterous, though, Eddie fisted a hand into Gabe's and Dustin's collars and yanked them to their feet. Mike, still in his seat, stared as Eddie's ringed fingers dug into his friends' necks. "And we showed you that school didn't have to be the worst years of your lives, right?"

"No," Dustin whispered.

"No, no. Well, I'm here to tell you that there are other lost little sheepies out there who need help. Who need you. And all you guys gotta do is get your Bo-Peeps on and go and find one."

With that, he shoved Gabe and Dustin forward. Gabe stumbled, barely avoiding a faceplant on the floor, and whirled around.

"Did you not hear anything I just said?"

"Huh? What are you talking about, Burton?"

"Lucas invited all of us to his game, and we want to go." When Eddie turned to Dustin and Mike, eyebrows raised in questioning, their eyes widened. They quickly shook their heads. Gabe clenched his fists. "Fine. I want to go."

"Why?" Mike asked. "Lucas isn't even playing! He'll be sitting on the bench the entire game."

"Because he asked me to? Because I want to support him? Because he's my friend?"

Eddie blew out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Gabe," he breathed, clicking his tongue. "Gabe, Gabe, Gabe. And here I thought I taught you well."

"It's not that big of a deal," Gabe said.

"Au contraire, Burton. It is a very big deal."

Gabe curled his fists. His eyes narrowed. His face continued to heat.

"Fine, then," he spat. "You don't have to postpone."

"Thank you."

"But you will have to find two lost sheep instead of one. Because I'm not going."

And with that, he grabbed his tray, slung his backpack over his shoulders, and stalked out of the cafeteria.

The cool, late-March wind swept over Gabe as he picked at the bun in his tray. It was unfortunately stale, harder than any bread had the right to be. This was the fifth time in the last month that he'd gotten something out-of-date from the sneering lunch ladies—last time, his milk had congealed into chunks—yet it was a particular blow today. He'd already been in a bad mood without food that broke your teeth when you attempted to eat it, and this just made things worse.

He was sitting on the bleachers outside, gazing into the empty football field. Ringed with a track, its grass had been crushed by enough sprinting feet that it had assumed a permanently wilted appearance. A few scattered leaves drifted across the vast space, the only signs of life—for whatever reason, it was completely abandoned today. Chrissy Cunningham had passed through ten minutes earlier, heading into the woods, but that was it.

Gabe abandoned his bread and sat back, crossing his arms. Why were Mike and Dustin being such assholes, lately? He'd thought that had been thrown out the window after Mike had finally apologized for stringing him and Will along like two puppets last summer. But here he was, back to his usual. And he didn't even have his girlfriend to fall back on for an excuse, this time.

It felt as if everything had changed for the worse since the Byers had moved away. Max barely spoke to him anymore. Mike and Dustin seemed to be drifting away from Lucas after he had the audacity to make new friends. Gabe's grandpa was sick, his grandma was struggling to provide for both him and Nicole, and Gabe himself been getting the worst headaches lately.

He just wanted Will back. No, not just Will. Alina, El, and Jonathan, too. And though he would be seeing them in less than twenty-four hours—well, not Alina. She'd be in Hawkins—it wasn't going to be the same. Seven days wasn't enough time for things to go back to normal. Seven days was barely any time at all.

"Uh, Gabe?"

Gabe's head snapped up at the voice. One, because he hadn't been expecting anyone to make their way over here for the rest of lunch, and two, because he knew that voice. And its owner knew him.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly down at Gabe. It made him seem taller in proportion to Gabe than he already was—while everyone else had been shooting up like weeds during these past few months, Gabe's body had decided that it wasn't interested. The only bright side was that he didn't need to buy all new clothes.

He had to admit that he was surprised to see his friend. He would've thought that Lucas would want to spend the rest of lunch with the basketball team and catch up with him later. But here he was, squinting through the sun, holding what appeared to be slips of paper in one hand.

"Hey, Lucas," Gabe said, looking back down at his tray. "What's up?"

"Are you okay?" Lucas blurted. Gabe blinked.

"Huh?"

"I don't know. I saw you, like, run out of the cafeteria, looking super pissed off, and I wanted to make sure that everything's all right. And, uh, no offense, but I don't think it's in typical Gabe fashion to eat outside by yourself. You're usually with Hellfire."

"Usually, yeah," Gabe said. "I just wasn't in the mood today."

Lucas tilted his head, looking supremely awkward. "Can I ask why?"

"Mike and Dustin aren't coming to your game," he blurted out. "Eddie got under their skin, and now they'd rather find a sub for you than just postpone Hellfire. They were being such dicks about it for no reason, so I decided that I'd rather eat out here."

Lucas's face fell. "They're not coming?"

"No." Gabe looked down at his shoes. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Lucas mumbled, taking a seat beside him. "Max isn't coming, either. I tried to offer her a ticket earlier and she shoved it back at me."

"I'm sorry," Gabe said again. "I know Alina would've come."

"Yeah. At least I'll get to see her tomorrow, though. I've missed her so much. And Will and El too, honestly. I wish I could see all of them."

"Well, say hi to Alina for me, and I'll say hi to them."

Lucas chuckled. "I will."

He unfolded his fist, finally revealing the tickets he'd been holding there. There were four of them—one for Gabe, one for Mike, one for Dustin, and one for Max. He held out one to Gabe. "In case you're interested."

Gabe took it. "Of course, I am," he said. "It's important to you, and we're friends, so it's important to me, too."

A slow smile spread across Lucas's face. "Thanks," he said. "You're, um, a pretty great friend, Gabe. I promise to introduce you to the team whenever I can."

"Okay," Gabe said.

At least he had one friend in Hawkins who he could rely on.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧