bloodstains

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Max led Alina and El through her house, which was not much smaller than Alina's own. They passed Max's bedroom and reached the end of the hallway, where a single door sat, ominous, a dark aura surrounding it. This was Billy's room. Max said she'd never been in there, because Billy had never allowed her too, and she wouldn't want to enter that room of horrors, anyway. But now, when it was necessary, Alina assumed she was just as curious as her friends were. And, probably, a little scared.

Max hesitated before opening the door to Billy's room. The stereo was playing, thudding with Billy's strange music, there were posters of bikini-clad women lining the walls, a collection of cigarette butts in a dish, and clothes piled onto chairs and the floor. It smelt like cigarettes and hairspray, and Alina wrinkled her nose in disgust. Max, on the other hand, just looked around. "Why do I get the feeling we're gonna find all kinds of wrong in here?"

"Because it's Billy," said Alina, following her inside, where the stench got stronger. Her heart was still pounding, but not as hard as it had been before, and she managed to take a look around, searching the top of his dresser (which contained nothing but hairspray and a couple of pencils). Max opened up his nightstand drawer but closed it almost immediately after.

"Ugh! Gag me with a spoon," she moaned. Alina didn't ask what she'd seen.

They did a thorough look through of Billy's room, ready to leave as soon as they heard a car rumble in the driveway. None of the girls knew exactly what they were looking for, but went by the mentality that they would know it when they saw it. At least, El and Alina did. Max still seemed skeptical about the whole thing.

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), nothing was found in the bedroom. Alina was glad to leave the overbearing presence of Billy's room and check the bathroom next, following behind El and Max in a makeshift train. They didn't expect to find anything in there, but they'd decided to check just in case. But it turned out to be the scariest room in the house.

The bathroom was small, with shells patterned on the walls, and as soon as Alina walked in there, a chill went down her spine. Her hands went clammy. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Her heart began to thud even more rapidly than ever. Because the bathtub, filled with water, had empty packets of ice floating on top. Which would've been fine a year ago, but now Alina looked at them with a new weight. She turned to El.

They were both thinking the same thing. He likes it cold.

The Mind Flayer. The one who had ripped Will out of his own skin, who had slithered into Alina, too, whispering things, trying to control her. Stealing her powers and her memories until all the faces of her friends, her family, were unrecognizable.

But... the Mind Flayer was dead. Gone. It'd been purged out of Will, and Alina had vomited up the remnants of its corpse. The gate had been closed, sealed shut, locking it inside the Upside Down forever. They had saved the world from destruction, from apocalypse; from people walking around, their minds locked in the Mind Flayer's possession, clawing at their skin and fighting the people still alive. It was impossible.

But Alina still had a bad feeling.

"Max." El's voice was quiet, her words shaky as she called out for her friend. Almost instinctively, she reached for Alina's hand. And almost instinctively, Alina took it. El's warm palm in hers was a raft in a churning sea. It kept her from spiralling, from launching back into hazy memories of breaking apart, piece by piece, of knowing she was going to die and not being able to do anything about it. It had been nothing short of a miracle that she'd lived. That she wasn't stuck in a coma right now, alive but not living.

Max peered into the bath, and picked up one of the empty packets. "Ice," she said. "It's just ice. It's probably for his muscles or something. He works out like a maniac."

"But..." Alina didn't want to voice her concerns. She didn't want to tell Max that her heart was beating a mile a minute, that she was terrified, internally screaming, what if the Mind Flayer is back? What if the Mind Flayer is back? What if it's really back? "Are you sure?"

Before Max could answer, she and Alina caught El's gaze. She'd turned away from the bathtub, and was staring at the cupboard under the sink, which was, usually, solely white. This time, however, it was smeared with red. Blood.

Almost robotically, El moved to the cupboard, opening it with trembling fingers. Alina didn't see anything of note in there, but El seemed to have found something. She took out a green bucket, holding it up to the light, confusion and a hint of fear etched onto her face.

"El, what is it?" Max asked, obviously not liking the silence that had settled over them. Alina couldn't even speak. The sight of the blood on that cupboard had sent her into a state of paralysis, her eyes, darting around frantically like she expected the Mind Flayer or Billy to crawl its way out of the drain, the only thing moving. El, who wasn't speaking, either, reached into the bucket and pulled out a lifeguard fanny pack, cherry red, and then a yellow whistle.

Stained with blood.

Alina's vision was going cloudy. The Mind Flayer, or Billy? She'd thought that whatever Billy had been doing to that girl had just been him—royally messed up him. But seeing the ice in the tub activated something else in her, and she couldn't stop wondering if this was somehow connected to the whole thing. Alina's life didn't seem to care that things were impossible—superpowers were impossible, back then, as were alternative dimensions. So why couldn't this be true, too?

She really, really hoped it wasn't.

It had finally started to rain, drops pounding against the windows of the Wheeler household, where things definitely were not going well. Sure, Mike and Lucas had finally clustered around the D&D board with Gabe and Will, attempting to immerse themselves in the game, but Gabe could tell they just weren't feeling it. Both Mike and Lucas were slumped at their chairs, their eyes darting to the dormant phone that lay nearby. Gabe knew Mike was hoping that El would call, that she would, for whatever reason, reverse the breakup, but after the twentieth time he glanced over, it began to get annoying.

Still, Gabe was trying to have fun. The pouring rain and Will's chilling voice narrating helped him get into the feel for the game, and he really was getting better. He wasn't in costume, but he could almost feel like he was, picture himself in medieval clothing. From one of the earlier campaigns, with Alina, Will had drawn a detailed picture of their characters, and gave it to him. He used the excuse that he'd already drawn Alina's druid plenty of times, but his face had gotten quite red when he'd said it.

Gabe would never get his hopes up, though.

"Do you guys hear that?" Will asked now, his voice quiet. An orchestral march played through the radio, and Gabe's arms erupted with goosebumps. "It sounds like... thunder. But, no, wait. That's not thunder. It's... a horde of juju zombies!"

Will slammed the figures down on the board, and Gabe let out a gasp. "Oh, shit!"

"Sir Mike," said Will, "your action!"

Mike let out a sigh, and then turned to Lucas. "What should I do?"

Lucas shrugged. "Attack?"

"Okay, I attack with my flail." Mike's voice was monotone. Gabe supposed it was a fair trade for Mike to be miserable during this campaign, as he and Will had during the trip to the mall, but at least they'd tried to help. The least he could do was try to sound a little enthusiastic.

Mike rolled the dice, letting them scatter across the board. "Whoosh!" Will cried. "You miss. Your flail clanks the stone, the zombie horde lumbers towards you, and..." Will rolled the dice, letting out a slight gasp when he saw what it had landed on, "...the juju bites your arm. Flesh tears! Aah! Seven points of damage."

"Oh, no, my arm." Mike clutched at his arm, but not in the way a wounded soldier would do. His tone was sarcastic instead of worried. And then he turned to Lucas, and still with that same tone said, "Lucas, look, my arm."

Lucas snickered.

Will looked downcast, before turning to the laughing boy with a little more determination. "Sir Lucas, the zombie horde roars! Do you fight back, or do you run?"

Lucas was about to reply when the one thing Gabe had hoped wouldn't happen during this campaign suddenly happened. The phone rang, its shrill tones reverberating throughout the basement. All eyes turned to it, where it seemed to hover, tantalizingly, in front of Mike, who, Gabe could see, itched to answer it.

Will stood up frantically. "No! It's a distraction! A trap. Do not answer it."

Lucas and Mike both ran towards the phone. Mike answered with, "El?" his voice filled with anticipation, before it slackened again. "No. Sorry, not interested." He hung up, turning back to the group. "Telemarketers."

"Exactly," said Gabe, who'd stood up as well. "A trap."

"Maybe you should just call her," Lucas suggested.

"I can do that?" Mike asked.

Lucas nodded. "I think so."

"Yeah, but what would I say?"

In just a few seconds, Mike and Lucas seemed to have forgotten the D&D campaign entirely. But Will seemed determined to drag them back into it.

"You'll say nothing!" he cried, slamming down his staff. "The Khuisar tribe still needs your help."

"All right, then," said Mike. "I'll use my torch to set fire to the chambers, sacrificing ourselves, killing the jujus, and saving the Khuisar. We all live on as heroes in the memories of the Kalamar."

"Victory," said Lucas, high fiving his friend. Gabe's mouth dropped open.

"What? No! That isn't how you play! We can't just kill ourselves!" he looked from Mike to Lucas. "Guys, c'mon."

Will's face had soured into a scowl. He didn't seem to have heard a word Gabe had said. Slamming his staff on the table, he glared at Mike. "Okay. Fine." He threw his hat off. "You guys win." He turned off the music, which, since it had been playing this entire time, was a jarring loss for their ears. The sounds of the pouring rain outside got louder, and Gabe felt the tension grow in the room. "Congratulations."

"Will, I was just messing around," said Mike, seeing the state his friend was in. Gabe thought it a bit rich to try and peddle back now. And so did Will, apparently, given that he shed his wizard's robes, too. "Hey, let's finish for real," Mike suggested. "How much longer is the campaign?"

"Just forget it, Mike," Will snapped.

"No, you want to keep playing right?"

"Y-Yeah, totally," Lucas said. He didn't sound very convincing.

"I'll just call El afterwards," said Mike, attempting to salvage the mess he'd made. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

"I said forget it, Mike, okay?" Will spat. "I'm going home."

"But..."

Will pushed past them all, making his way to the stairs. Lucas attempted to stop him, but Will shoved through him, too. And then he was running upstairs, leaving Mike, Lucas and Gabe in the basement alone. Though not for long, as Mike immediately began to rush after him, with Gabe right as his heels. A faint anger was flickering inside of the latter. At Mike. At Lucas. For ruining the one thing Will had been begging them to do. But he could tell them off afterwards. For now, Will was the only one who mattered.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: gill! gill! gill! gill! gill stans are WINNING and they're going to KEEP WINNING because the next chapter is the scene. you know the one. and you know what mike says. except this time, gabe's gonna be there ;)

anyways sinclairgrieves isn't thriving as much lately, but i really wanted alina to go with the girls lmfao, it obviously makes a lot of sense. i think i do make up for it later, when the gang reconvenes. but i hope the gill content sustains you until then :')

'till next time!