𝟬𝟴
𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱

    𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐏 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀'𝐒 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍 as she trudged toward Hawkins Middle School, the sky above a pale, muted blue that seemed almost suffocated by the delicate veil of mist. Leaves, brittle and golden, crunched beneath her sneakers, their dry, skeletal forms crackling like embers underfoot. The trees that lined the quiet street had shed most of their summer vibrancy, their once full, verdant branches now twisted and bare, reaching toward the sky like ink-black tendrils, stretching, yearning.

    Each step Tessa took felt heavier than the last, as though the weight of the world had settled firmly on her small shoulders. The familiar, brick façade of the school stood ahead of her, but even it seemed different this morning—its usual warmth dulled, the windows dark and still. The building was wrapped in a sense of eerie quiet, as though it, too, could sense that something was off. The leaves that had gathered at the entrance swirled lazily in the morning breeze, whispering secrets in the language only autumn knew.

    The air smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke, the faintest scent of burning leaves lingering in the distance. She could taste the change of season, the way the sharpness of fall lingered on her tongue, mingling with her unspoken worries. It was the kind of morning that felt too still, too quiet, as if the entire town of Hawkins was holding its breath, waiting for something—anything—to happen.

    Tessa's fingers, cold and stiff, curled tighter around the strap of her backpack. The fabric rubbed against her palm, a small but grounding sensation amid the unsettling feeling creeping up her spine. She stopped at the entrance to the school, her gaze drifting over the chipped paint of the double doors. They were slightly ajar, just enough for her to catch a sliver of the dimly lit hallway inside. The fluorescent lights flickered, casting a jittery glow that wavered like a heartbeat.

    With a sigh, she pushed the door open, the hinges groaning in protest, and stepped inside. The familiar scent of stale textbooks and cleaning supplies greeted her, mingling with the faint hum of distant voices and the squeak of shoes against linoleum floors. The warmth of the building hit her immediately, contrasting sharply with the bite of the cold morning, but it wasn't comforting. The warmth felt thick, oppressive even, like it was trying too hard to convince her everything was normal.

    The hallway stretched out before her, lined with row upon row of lockers—some dented, others plastered with stickers peeling at the edges. The beige walls seemed to close in slightly as she walked, and the buzzing overhead lights threw faint, sickly yellow shadows along the floor. Every little sound—footsteps, the murmur of distant conversation, the occasional slam of a locker door—seemed louder than usual, more insistent. She could feel the echoes of each sound reverberating through her, each one unsettling her more.

    She passed the bulletin board, its cork surface riddled with pushpins that held up crumpled flyers and faded announcements. A sheet of paper hung haphazardly, fluttering slightly in the draft that crept through the hall. "Hawkins Middle Dance" was scrawled across it in bold, blocky letters. Yet, the torn edges and hastily taped corners made it seem like something from a forgotten time—a relic from when things were still simple, before Will had gone missing.

    Tessa's thoughts drifted back to the night at Mike's house, playing Dungeons & Dragons with Will, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. Will's smile had been shy but bright as he held the dice in his hand, eyes glimmering with that quiet excitement he always carried during their campaigns. She had barely spoken to him then, too absorbed in the game's fantastical twists and turns, but now... now, his absence left a hollow ache in the pit of her stomach.

    Her footsteps slowed as she rounded the corner, where the hallway opened into the larger common area, filled with the usual scattering of students. She caught sight of Lucas first, leaning against one of the pillars near the cafeteria, his arms crossed, a deep frown furrowing his brow. His jacket hung loose around his frame, slightly too big, the collar turned up against his neck as though it might shield him from the uncertainty that clung to the air. His gaze was focused, intense, and even in this moment of anxiety, there was something about the way he stood that captured Tessa's attention—a quiet strength beneath the worry.

    Dustin was next to him, gesticulating wildly as he spoke, his curly hair bouncing with every exaggerated movement. His backpack was slung low, barely hanging onto one shoulder, and his cap was askew, the brim tilted just enough to shadow his eyes.

Tessa swallowed hard and approached them, her heart thudding in her chest like a drumbeat that wouldn't stop. Every step felt longer, heavier, the air between them thick with unspoken worry. She could feel the tension in the space around them, palpable like static before a storm.

"Tessa!" Dustin's voice broke through the fog of her thoughts as he spotted her, his face lighting up in a momentary flicker of relief. "Hey!"

"Hey," she replied, her voice quieter than she had intended, barely audible above the low hum of chatter in the hall. Her gaze flickered to Lucas again, who still hadn't looked up.

Lucas uncrossed his arms and glanced at her, his frown deepening slightly. "Did you hear anything? About Will?" His voice was cautious, tinged with the kind of hope that didn't want to be crushed but expected to be.

Tessa shook her head, the motion small, barely noticeable. "No, nothing," she said softly, the words falling like stones between them. "But his mom called my house yesterday. She was looking for him."

Lucas's eyes met hers for a brief moment, his gaze sharp and searching.

"What did she say?" Mike's voice, more urgent than Lucas's, cut into the moment, and Tessa turned her attention back to him. His desperation was clear in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself—tense, on edge, like he was ready to spring into action at any moment.

Tessa shifted on her feet, suddenly feeling the weight of their collective hope resting on her shoulders. "She thought maybe he was with one of you. That he was just playing another game of D&D somewhere. But... but he never came home."

The silence that followed her words was thick, almost suffocating. It wrapped around them, each of them caught in their own thoughts, their own silent fears.

Lucas kicked at the floor, his sneakers squeaking against the tile. "The police aren't doing enough. It's like they're not even looking." His voice was firm, carrying that edge of frustration Tessa had seen in him before. But beneath it, she could sense something more—a protective urgency, a need to fix things.

Mike's fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his frame vibrating like a coiled spring. "They think he just ran off. That he's hiding somewhere. But he wouldn't do that. Will wouldn't just... disappear."

Tessa nodded, knowing full well the frustration they must all be feeling. She had seen it in her own mother's eyes before, that helpless rage when something you care about is slipping away and you can't do a thing to stop it.

Dustin spoke up again, this time quieter, more serious than usual. "Maybe we can do something. We know the places Will likes to hang out. The woods, the quarry, even Castle Byers. We could—"

"We could look for him ourselves," Mike interrupted, the idea taking root in his voice, growing stronger with every word. He straightened up, determination flashing in his dark eyes. "We're not waiting around for the police to do their job. If they won't look, we will."

Tessa's gaze darted back to Lucas, watching him closely for his reaction. He was still, processing the idea, but she could see the flicker of resolve in his expression, the way his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as if weighing the risks. His calm in the face of uncertainty made her feel steadier somehow, more certain that they could actually pull this off.

The rest of the group exchanged uncertain glances, but there was a quiet agreement between them. It was unspoken, but they all felt it—that urgency, the knowledge that time was slipping through their fingers like sand.

A bell rang out, signaling the start of the next period, but none of them moved. They were locked in their own bubble, caught in the crosshairs of fear and determination.

"We'll find a time everyone is free, then we look." Mike said, his voice firm.

.ೃ࿐ IRIS SPEAKS !

TYLER MY ABSOLUTE GOATT

chromakopia is EATING just from the snippet