( these are the conversations that each of them shies away from, except for nancy ( seemingly unafraid of anything ), nancy who has had most of her life mapped out since she was a small girl. nevermind the disruption of monsters basically crawling off of a playing board from a campaign that mike wheeler thought up after a nightmare. that wasn’t a part of anyone’s plan. a hiccup from the devil’s wagon, if you’re the zealous type. the only prayers jonathan has succumbed to have been while down on his knees; praying for will to wake up and giving reverence to nancy in an entirely different context. so let’s say it like it is: jonathan doesn’t want to disrupt the peace they’ve found here. the kids, alive and okay, and then steve, nancy, robin and himself, attached like out-of-body appendages. it’s nice, you know? it’s so nice, watching the girls wax poetic about these futures they’ve constructed for themselves like empires. a big fan of not lying, not pretending ( friends don’t lie ), he tells white ones by agreeing with nancy over burgers and shared fries.
how he’s going to afford tuition like that? and if he could, say he does, on grades and on merit, how’s he supposed to make the kind of income required to keep himself afloat in a university town? what if something happens? what if will needs him? what if this is never really over? because if he’s speaking his truth, then he has to eventually voice that he wants to stay closer to home. she would never go for his option, which is city college. a perfectly reasonable solution to the economic cost of education, at least for a few years. he doesn’t intend to fall back on old habits, to hide in himself and keep his fears close to his chest, but he does.
a large part of it due to how wild it feels to be talking about college when the world’s already almost ended three times. they’re just. they’re supposed to move on, somehow? knowing that? like the upside down isn’t an entity that keeps reaching for eleven and by extension, the rest of them. living day-to-day hasn’t failed him yet. he knows that’s the avoidance of talking, the anxiety and the paranoia, but days turn to weeks turn to months, and they’re alive. nothing crazy has interrupted their lives. he wishes he could get out of it, except he’s been in survival mode much longer than the rest of them.
he embraces summer like it’s the last one, spending less time behind the lens and more time instigating in the lives of the friends around him. yeah, friends, not people. he thinks maybe they’ve earned that. )
I don’t need to. It’s called subtitles. You can read, right?
( after a retort like that, he’s deserving of having the watermelon volleyed back at him. steve’s aim smacks him in the jaw in a smushy wet slap that plummets to his lap. unbelievable, this assault he asked for. )
Augh! ( he cries out, not necessarily in pain so much as it’s already tacky, humid, and a little miserable in here without sticky fruit juice on his face. a sole watermelon seed sticks to his cheek. common sense doesn’t tell him to stop when it should. he picks up the fallen fruit in his lap, more green rind than hot pink fruit and hurls it in steve’s general direction. his aim is horrific and it splatters against the cushions. there’s only certain vengeance on his face where guilt ought to be. he scrambles up, to kneeling, scrabbling for fruit in each hand and then dashing for the kitchen. he stops though, lingers at the side of the couch long enough to try and pelt steve in the shoulder. )
Loser's stuck with clean-up duty, ( which is all he has to say before banking for cover behind the island. )
no subject
how he’s going to afford tuition like that? and if he could, say he does, on grades and on merit, how’s he supposed to make the kind of income required to keep himself afloat in a university town? what if something happens? what if will needs him? what if this is never really over? because if he’s speaking his truth, then he has to eventually voice that he wants to stay closer to home. she would never go for his option, which is city college. a perfectly reasonable solution to the economic cost of education, at least for a few years. he doesn’t intend to fall back on old habits, to hide in himself and keep his fears close to his chest, but he does.
a large part of it due to how wild it feels to be talking about college when the world’s already almost ended three times. they’re just. they’re supposed to move on, somehow? knowing that? like the upside down isn’t an entity that keeps reaching for eleven and by extension, the rest of them. living day-to-day hasn’t failed him yet. he knows that’s the avoidance of talking, the anxiety and the paranoia, but days turn to weeks turn to months, and they’re alive. nothing crazy has interrupted their lives. he wishes he could get out of it, except he’s been in survival mode much longer than the rest of them.
he embraces summer like it’s the last one, spending less time behind the lens and more time instigating in the lives of the friends around him. yeah, friends, not people. he thinks maybe they’ve earned that. )
I don’t need to. It’s called subtitles. You can read, right?
( after a retort like that, he’s deserving of having the watermelon volleyed back at him. steve’s aim smacks him in the jaw in a smushy wet slap that plummets to his lap. unbelievable, this assault he asked for. )
Augh! ( he cries out, not necessarily in pain so much as it’s already tacky, humid, and a little miserable in here without sticky fruit juice on his face. a sole watermelon seed sticks to his cheek. common sense doesn’t tell him to stop when it should. he picks up the fallen fruit in his lap, more green rind than hot pink fruit and hurls it in steve’s general direction. his aim is horrific and it splatters against the cushions. there’s only certain vengeance on his face where guilt ought to be. he scrambles up, to kneeling, scrabbling for fruit in each hand and then dashing for the kitchen. he stops though, lingers at the side of the couch long enough to try and pelt steve in the shoulder. )
Loser's stuck with clean-up duty, ( which is all he has to say before banking for cover behind the island. )