alina's quest

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

That night, Mike slept in their room. On the floor, which didn't seem to be comfortable, but he refused to go home after learning about Will's worsening condition. From the top bunk, her eyes open, unable to sleep, Alina thought about the two of them. Mike had always been close to Will—closer than he was to any of his other friends—and in the past couple days, it seemed they'd grown even closer. In another world, perhaps they wouldn't be friends at all, but something else. Alina had a fondness for the both of them.

She blinked up at the white ceiling, listening to the sound of Mike and Will's breathing. Neither of them snored—thank God—and it was almost relaxing to listen to them. She didn't want to fall asleep yet. She was too afraid of what she'd find in her dreams.

Her fingers absently traced the bandage still covering her hand. Why had she done that? It had seemed reasonable at the time—to face your fear of fire, you might have to get burned—but now it was just ridiculous. It was like... it was the same force that had propelled her to slash at Daniel's face. A force that simply wasn't like her at all.

Alina pushed back her covers and sat up suddenly. Slowly, she moved so she was dangling off the railing that prevented her from falling out of bed, and looked at Will. The boy's eyes were closed, but he could see them moving under his sockets again. Back and forth, like a steady ticking of a clock. Was that what happened when someone entered REM sleep? Perhaps she should've paid more attention in science class in the past. But that had seemed trivial.

Will's hair was plastered to his skin with sweat, and occasionally, he let out a sharp gasp, but he didn't wake. This wasn't normal. Nothing about this was normal. Something was happening to him, and Alina didn't know what to do.

She lay back down on her bed, throwing the covers off. Even though the window was open, a slight breeze blowing through, she preferred the coolness to the heavy warmth of her blankets. Alina nuzzled her face into her pillow, her eyes still open. It smelled of lavender. And that's when she heard the whisper.

"You're still awake, too?" It was Mike. He was buried in blankets on the floor beside Will, his hood pulled up, and as Alina leaned over the railing, she noticed he'd propped himself up on one elbow, studying his friend. His eyes flicked up to meet hers.

Alina nodded. "Couldn't sleep. I've been having nightmares." She chewed on her lip, looking at Will. "I'm worried about him."

"Me too," said Mike. "I just... I don't want to think of what the shadow monster's doing to him right now. What it's like to have it inside him."

Alina wondered the same. "We'll help him," she said confidently, even though she didn't feel so confident herself. "We'll... Will will find out its weakness, and everything will be fine."

Mike was the one to nod now. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. 'Night, Al."

"Goodnight, Mike."

It was an hour after that conversation, an hour in which Mike had since drifted into his own fitful rest, when Alina finally fell asleep herself, unaware of what would happen in the morning, and how fixing Will would not be as easy as it seemed.

It was a peaceful slumber until Alina Fairgrieves woke up to the sound of Will. She sat up straight, her heart pounding, looking down her bunk at the boy who was now sitting up straight in bed, his eyes wide.

Mike sat up, too. "Will, what's wrong?"

Will didn't respond, just stared at Mike with a look of utter horror on his face, before throwing back the covers and sprinting out of the room. Alina and Mike exchanged a look of surprise before Alina was dropping down from the top bunk and running out of the room after him. She found him in the living room, calling for Joyce, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, phone beside her, evidently waiting for Hopper to call her back.

"Mom?" he was saying. "Mom?" he put a hand on her shoulder. His limbs were trembling. "Mom?"

Joyce startled, turning around to face the three teens. "Yeah?"

"I saw him," said Will.

"You saw who, baby?"

"Hopper," Will explained, leaning towards his mother. "I think he's in trouble. I think he's going to die."

"Lucas, do you copy?"

Alina was perched on the top of her bunk bed, trying desperately to get in contact with her friend. She'd been trying for who knew how long, while Joyce and Mike were having Will draw the place he thought Hopper was. Apparently, he'd gone out after saying something about vines, and Alina assumed he'd found whatever he was looking for. But that didn't make it a good thing.

"Lucas, this is an emergency! It's a code red, damn it! Just answer me!" she pushed the button again and again, switched channels, but nobody picked up. "Come on, Lucas!" she let out a swear. "Dustin, do you copy? Dustin, are you there? Hell, I would even appreciate it if Max or Gabe picked up. Can someone just please answer?! Please?!"

Nobody did. There was only static on the other end. Alina threw down her walkie talkie in frustration. Shit. This wasn't good at all. Alina looked to her bedroom door, which was open. She could hear the sounds of Mike, Will and Joyce talking, and thought they wouldn't mind if she went to find her friends. Lucas would be first.

And so Alina slipped off the top of her bunk, pulled on her sneakers, and was about to head out the door when she realized Joyce might not want anyone else to know the full extent of Will's illness. Letting out a sigh, Alina moved away from the door and instead to the open window. And then Alina dropped out into the hazy morning, her feet crunching on fallen leaves. She decided to bike to Lucas's, thinking it would be faster, and she clutched onto her handlebars until her knuckles turned white, praying he was home.

Alina pedaled quickly, and it felt nice to have somewhere to go. She cut through lawns and even a backyard, thinking that it was early enough in the morning—the day still had a cool feel to it, like the world hadn't quite woken up yet—that Lucas wouldn't have gone out yet.

Come on, Lucas. Come on, Lucas.

She arrived at Lucas's house, nearly falling off her bike in her haste to reach the front door. She rang the doorbell quickly, and then, after waiting only five seconds, rang it again, tapping her feet impatiently. Unfortunately, it wasn't Lucas who opened the door. It was his mother.

"Oh, Alina," she smiled. She always looked happy to see her. "What a pleasant surprise! How's everything with you and your family?"

"They're good," Alina said quickly. "They're, uh, they're great. But, um, is Lucas around? I need to talk to him. It's urgent. Like, really urgent."

"Is something wrong?"

"Yes. I mean, no, not really. It's a school project." Alina was tempted to push past Mrs. Sinclair and find Lucas herself. "But is he here?"

"I'm so sorry, he just went over to Dustin's," said Mrs. Sinclair, shaking her head. "Maybe you could check there?"

Alina smiled tightly. "Yeah. Sure. Thank you, Mrs. Sinclair."

"Oh, no problem dear. Have a nice day!"

"You too..." Alina trailed off when she realized Mrs. Sinclair had already shut the door. She let out a sigh, slumping a little bit. Shit. Now she was going to have to go to Dustin's. What if something bad happened while she was gone? What if Will's condition got worse?

She had no choice, though. She knew that they needed help. And so she mounted her bike, being more careful this time, and took off. While she biked through the neighborhood, Alina couldn't stop thinking about Lucas. There was this nagging feeling she had in the back of her head about him, and it wasn't until she pulled up to Dustin's porch that she realized why. If Lucas was with Dustin, he'd have taken his walkie talkie with him.

Lucas wasn't at Dustin's. He'd lied to his parents. Which meant there was only one other place he could be, and only one other person he could be with.

Shit. Alina was cursing to herself, remounting her bike, when she stopped. Perhaps she shouldn't jump to conclusions. Maybe Lucas was at the arcade, but he was just trying to beat her score at Dig Dug. Maybe he wasn't with Max. She'd have to check there to find him.

Alina stared at Dustin's front door. He wasn't answering the walkie talkie, either, so maybe he'd gone along with Lucas. And so with a newfound vigor, Alina began to pedal, heading towards the Palace Arcade, the place where it had all begun.

Meanwhile, Gabriel Burton set off into the morning, shoving his hands in his pockets. After school yesterday, where he actually had stayed behind to help Dustin and Lucas, unlike Max, who'd simply skated home, Dart still hadn't been found, and Gabe had a sneaking suspicion that the little creature was not roaming around the school. So he decided that he'd check the neighborhood around it.

He was thinking of calling Alina or Will, who he wondered whether was still sick or not, before realizing he didn't have anyone's phone numbers. He'd seen them communicate on walkie talkies, but he didn't have one of those either. So it was alone he went, walking by himself across the streets of Hawkins. He found he didn't really mind the solitude—he'd had a lot of it in his life.

As to be expected from a father who'd had a one-night-stand to produce his child, George Burton was an absent father. He never brought Gabe fishing or played football with him or the other stereotypical things dads were supposed to do with their kids. Honestly, he just left Gabe alone. Made him dinner at night, sure, and bought groceries and stuff, but other than that, he didn't really do much. He'd be at work by the time Gabe woke up in the morning, and he wouldn't return until eight-thirty at night, where the two of them would eat a microwaveable dinner and George would watch the game.

Okay, so George barely even made dinner for him. And Gabe knew deep down that he was just another problem for him. So Gabe had learned to be self-sufficient; he could make his own meals, wash the dishes, do the laundry. He could get to school on time and do his homework without any help, and for a while, that was the way he liked it. Gabe thought this was normal. He thought this was what life was like.

Until that day.

Gabe had been sitting on the couch, doing homework, when George had come home. It was a hot night, and Gabe had opened all of the windows, but that didn't stop himself from feeling sticky and gross. Not a very good first impression for the woman who walked in right behind him.

The woman was black, like George, and wore her hair in a high bun. Large silver hoops dangled from her ears, and her hands—nails painted red—clutched at her pregnant belly. The woman was simply elegant, but the way she stared at Gabe with distaste made him automatically uncomfortable.

"So, this is him, then?" she asked, her beady eyes scanning every inch of his face. Gabe felt like he was being x-rayed, and immediately looked away, his cheeks burning. But the woman wasn't finished. "He's not very handsome, is he?"

Who is this woman? Gabe thought to himself, sneaking a peek at her. And why is she with my dad?

George Burton chuckled awkwardly. "He's a fine-looking boy," he said. "Gabriel, stand up." Gabe stood, and George clapped him on the back. "I'd like you to meet my fiancé," he said. "Gabe, this is Linda."

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: huh, that name sounds familiar. wonder who that is. 

'till next time :))