just a blip

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

After what happened to Angela, all skating stopped. An ambulance was called, and only ten minutes later, a flock of EMTs had arrived to assess the situation. They spoke to her softly as she cried, barely able to remember her own name, while her friends continued to rub her shoulders and keep a tissue firmly pressed to the laceration El had made in her nose. The skaters gathered around the scene, whispering to each other and shaking their heads. A few glared directly at El.

Gabe stood beside Will and Mike, trying to stop shaking. His trembling hands were balled up at his sides, his nails cutting into his palms. Unfortunate images were running through his mind—Billy slamming him into a locker, the Mind Flayer spraying goo into his face, his dream where Will's blood coated him from head to toe. The welts on his legs—mere scars, now—stung as if they were brand-new, and his own nose itched, as if it was seconds away from splitting open. He couldn't look at El, who was sitting alone at one of the booths. He couldn't look at Angela, either.

A strange feeling went over him, a dizziness that blurred the roller rink into nothing but a jumble of shapes. The world swooped under his feet, and the compulsion to leave, to let his jelly legs carry him somewhere, surged through him. A path he hadn't even created himself mapped out in his mind, and he almost started walking right then and there. Anything to get out of here. Anything to banish the memories.

He might have done it, too, if not for the comforting hand placed on his back. Will, pale and shaky, let himself linger there for a moment, perhaps believing that the chaos currently occurring in front of them would prevent unwanted attention. Gabe leaned into the gesture, letting it ground him. Tears sprung to his eyes, and he didn't even know why. He just wanted to leave.

Immediately after they'd found Angela, Mike had called Jonathan and Argyle, who agreed to pick them up. He'd only given the most basic of details over the phone—El had been bullied before lashing out—but they'd know the truth, soon. Gabe wouldn't be surprised if it spread around the town.

Why this event had affected him so much, Gabe had no answer for. It wasn't like Angela was innocent—what she'd done to El had been simply unforgivable. And that had been after a year of making her and Alina's lives miserable, of attempting to sabotage them at every turn. There was no question that she deserved retribution; in fact, Gabe had been considering it himself.

But not this. It shouldn't have been this.

Blood blood blood blood blood—

Sometimes, Gabe forgot what El used to be. Forgot that, under her curtain of rapidly growing hair that she was definitely modelling after Joyce, big brown doe eyes, and sweet smiles, lay a killer. And sure, it had been a necessity back then—it had been a kill or be killed world, after all—but she'd never had any qualms with it. She'd never really felt any remorse.

Gabe liked El. He really did. She was his friend, and he didn't blame her for what she'd done in the past. But this... this...

Something about this made him sick.

"Hey," Will whispered, startling Gabe out of his own mind. He hadn't even realized he'd been zoned out, his eyes vacant. But the room had changed; Angela was now gone, her friends and the EMTs with her. The other roller skaters were slowly beginning to file out, their appetites for continuing on ruined. "We're leaving now. Jonathan and Argyle are here."

"Okay," Gabe said. Obediently, he followed Will over to where Jonathan, Argyle, Mike, and El were waiting. El was standing in the corner, her dress still stained brown, purposefully distancing herself from the others. Mike was anxious, gnawing on his lip and bouncing from foot to foot. Jonathan and Argyle... well, they appeared far calmer than the situation warranted.

It was only when they got in the van that Gabe realized why. They were high. Even Jonathan, a boy Gabe had known solely as Will's quiet brother. Their eyes were rimmed with red, and slow smiles spread across both of their faces. It made sitting in the back of an already dangerous van a little uncomfortable to Gabe, but he didn't say anything. He just sat as close to Will as he could without being suspicious.

They drove for ten minutes in silence before Argyle finally spoke. "I know this may be, like, upsetting and shit, but that future prom queen is gonna be fine. I mean, it was just, like, rubber wheels."

"Plastic," Jonathan corrected.

"Oh."

"Not, like, hard plastic, just... just the soft kind."

"Totally. But you ever wonder why the wheels aren't wood, man? Or metal? So people don't get hurt when they get schmacked."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Because it happens more than you think, man." He turned to face the teenagers in the back. "Roller-skate attacks."

"Man," Jonathan said. "Hey, at least it wasn't an ice skate."

"That nose would've been sliced clean off, man."

"Ah. Ah."

"It could've been so much worse."

"So much worse," Jonathan agreed. "In the grand scheme of things, it's just a little blip."

"That's a funny word, man."

"Blip."

"Blip."

"Blip, blip, blip, blip, blip, blip, blip."

They then proceeded to sing the word 'blip' to the tune of the song over the radio. Gabe, already squished between Will and Mike, sucked in a breath. He pushed his head between his knees. Then he snapped, "Can you stop?"

Jonathan and Argyle did, but also swerved around to face him. Gabe wished Argyle would keep his eyes on the road.

"What's your problem, man?" Argyle asked.

El, by the window on Mike's other side, tensed. Gabe still didn't look at her. "You're being super insensitive right now."

"How?" Jonathan asked. "She's gonna be fine. We're being reassuring."

"Totally reassuring," Argyle agreed. "You know, I think I'd be a great father."

"You totally would, man!"

"I can just imagine it. Me and Argyle Junior. Goin' for rides in this van."

"I can't believe you two are high right now," Gabe said. "Jonathan, I can't believe you even get high."

"Purple Palm Tree Delight, man," Argyle said. "It works miracles for girlfriend issues."

"Huh?" Mike asked.

"Guys, seriously," Will said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This isn't the time."

Gabe looked past his head and out the window. By now, the sun had set, and palm trees and mountains loomed out of the darkness like crooked fingers. He imagined them stretching towards the car, getting a hold on them, and shuddered again. He just wanted this day to be over.

Unfortunately, it was far from it. Even with a friendly greeting from Skywalker to soften the blow, the weirdness didn't even end when he stepped into the Byers household. Sure, Skywalker was there meowing and rubbing against Gabe's leg—apparently, he still remembered him—until he picked him up, but his contented purrs had a soundtrack. For, piping through the house, came opera music.

Gabe opened his mouth, then closed it. Okay.

Will was similarly bewildered. "Mom?" he called, shuffling behind El down the hallway. Then he stopped so abruptly that Gabe nearly rammed right into him. He stumbled, then straightened up. When he looked over Will's shoulder, his already furrowed eyebrows creased further.

For there, at the stove, preparing a meal that smelled surprisingly tasty, was Murray Bauman.

"Well, well!" he shouted, turning from the stove to reveal the apron he was wearing—which was patterned with hearts, cows, and sheep. "Aren't you lot a sight for sore eyes, huh?"

"Hi, Murray," Jonathan greeted.

Murray held up his spoon. "You kids like risotto?"

Personally, Gabe couldn't imagine anything less appealing. But maybe that was just him.

Regardless, twenty minutes later, he found himself with his own heaping portion, sitting beside Jonathan in what might have been the most uncomfortable meal of his life. Jonathan, Argyle, and Joyce all ate jauntily, listening in rapt attention to the story Murray was telling, while Gabe, Will, Mike and El all picked at their food in relative silence. Gabe's stomach was churning so much that he'd only managed to nibble on a hunk of bread. And even that had been a Herculean effort.

"So there I was, headed down the I-5, going to see a client out in Ventura," Murray said. "I'm looking for a motel to stay for the night, and suddenly, bam—" he slammed his hand down on the table. Dishes rattled, and Gabe suppressed a flinch. "—it hits me. 'Didn't the Byers move here?'"

"Small world, isn't it?" Joyce chuckled. "It's a small world."

"So I thought, 'hey, you know what? Why don't I drop in, and say hello to my old friends?'"

Gabe couldn't help but stare at him. What? The last Gabe had seen of him, Murray had been pretending to be upset when he told everyone he was 'relocating' and he wasn't going to see them again. After all, in the limited time Gabe had known him, he'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't the biggest fan of children. So, why the hell would he willingly surround himself with them now?

Joyce, strangely, didn't even seemed fazed. "It's so sweet of you."

"Sweeter of you to let me stay," Murray replied.

"And he cooks, too."

"Mm, and cleans. A regular little housewife."

Gabe looked at his fork, then set it gently on his plate. Every time he looked at the food, he just kept seeing blood, blood, blood. He'd never been less hungry in his life.

"You should just stay."

"I'd be tempted, Joyce, except, you know, you have that, uh..." he gestured vaguely. Will met Gabe's eyes from across the table. Gabe could only keep his gaze for a moment before looking away.

"Right, that business trip," Joyce said.

"Business trip?" Will asked. "What business trip?"

"Oh my gosh. I almost forgot to tell you guys. This thing came up at work last minute..."

"Can you pass me the olive oil?" Jonathan asked Argyle.

"That's wine," Argyle responded.

"...and it turns out I have to go to a conference tomorrow. In Alaska," Joyce finished.

"Alaska?" Will asked.

"Tomorrow?" Mike added.

"Seriously?" Gabe asked. She hadn't mentioned that at all when they were planning everything out.

"Crazy, right?" Murray chuckled.

"That's where they're based, the Britannicas," Joyce said. "Joan and Brian Britannica."

"Mm."

"So do Eskimos, like, still live in igloos, or, uh, are they, like, fully blown, like, living in the... in the suburbs now?" Argyle asked.

Gabe swivelled his incredulous gaze from Murray to Argyle. This was what he was focusing on, right now? "There were about five kinds of offensive in that question, Argyle."

"Oh, shit. My bad. I'm not—I'm not racist, or anything. I think they should get their land back and stuff. I was just—I was just wondering."

Murray tilted his head toward Argyle with a tight smile. "Who is this?"

Joyce didn't bothering answering. "So, Jonathan," she said instead, "this means you're gonna have to, you know, take charge while I'm gone."

"Yeah."

"Wait," Jonathan said, blinking around the room as if he'd just woken up from a nap. "What? What's going on?"

"Oh, my God," Will muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head.

"Your mom's going to Alaska," Argyle whispered.

"You're going to Alaska?" Jonathan repeated.

"Mm-hmm," Argyle agreed.

"What's going on in Alaska?"

"The Britannicas are there."

"The Britannicas?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Jonathan, what is wrong with you?" Joyce asked, concern spreading across her features.

"I think I know what's wrong with him," Murray murmured.

"We just had a super stressful day," Jonathan said, taking a sip of his water.

"Stress, huh?"

"This girl got schmacked in the head today at the roller rink," Argyle said.

El, who'd been raising her fork to her mouth, froze.

"Schmacked?" Murray repeated.

"Yeah, it was one of those vicious skate attacks."

"A skate attack?"

"Yeah, but it wasn't, like, an ice skate." Jonathan said. "It was... um, it was a plastic skate."

"No, it was, like, rubber," Argyle corrected.

"Rubber. Rubber."

"You know what? I'm not sure." Argyle went quiet for a moment, closing his eyes. "Anyway, she looked like she's gonna be fine."

"She's totally fine," Jonathan agreed.

"She didn't look fine," Mike said, eyes on his dinner. El turned to him. Then she set down her fork, pushed back her chair, and began to make her way out of the kitchen.

"El, aren't you gonna finish your—" Joyce began. But El was already storming up the stairs.

Will sighed. Gabe pushed his plate away.

"You know, I'm not really hungry, either."

Before Will or anyone else at the table could stop him, he, too, was heading out of the kitchen. Skywalker, who'd been curled up in the living room, followed him, and Gabe scooped him into his arms as he headed out the door. The warm California air hit him straight on, but he didn't let it bully him into going back inside. Instead, he just sank down on the porch, cat in his arms.

Again, his head began to ache. Again, there was this urge to run.

Come back, Gabe, something whispered. Gabe buried his face into Skywalker's fur.

Come home.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧