It's Hawkins '96 and it's going to be her year. 16 year-old Holly is about to start her junior year at Hawkins High and everything is perfect. Until she finds out her brother is moving back to town. Epistolary story by eightfifteen.
It's Hawkins '96 and it's going to be her year. 16 year-old Holly is about to start her junior year at Hawkins High and everything is absolutely perfect.
Until she finds out her brother is moving back to town. Worse - he's the new English teacher.
Holly is perfectly content leaving Mike in the past, not caring to know what drove him out of town in the first place, or why everyone keeps whispering about his return.
Yet, she's steadily growing up, and she can use all the help she can get.
A series of diary entries documenting a normal Hawkins High experience.
Story by @eightfifteen
August 13th, 1996
August 16th, 1996
August 20th, 1996
August 26th, 1996
September 2nd, 1996
September 3rd, 1996
September 5th, 1996
September 7th, 1996
September 10th, 1996
September 13th, 1996
September 16th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 25th, 1996
September 27th, 1996
September 28th, 1996
September 29th, 1996
October 2nd, 1996
October 4th, 1996
October 6th, 1996
October 7th, 1996
October 13th, 1996
October 15th, 1996
October 17th, 1996
October 19th, 1996
October 23rd, 1996
October 24th, 1996
October 26th, 1996 00:05
October 26th, 1996 00:32
October 26th, 1996 01:15
October 26th, 1996 8:37
October 26th, 1996 9:10
October 26th, 1996
My head is still pounding, even though I already took the aspirin Mike left on my nightstand, and I would get more but I don’t know where they keep it and I’m not about to start snooping through his stuff - especially as it’s not just Mike’s house. I thought alcohol was supposed to make you sleep more, but I kept waking up every half hour to feel horrible.
I feel like shit in so many ways.
I can’t believe I did that.
It doesn’t feel like me. I’m supposed to be responsible and focussed. I should know better - I do know better.
It’s just… I really didn’t see the harm in having one drink. Everyone else was doing it, and I didn’t want to be lame and say no. And it seemed like fun, too, I guess… Everyone was having so much fun and being so relaxed. I wanted to have fun too, to shut it all off and enjoy myself for one night!
I wanted to know what it felt like.
I just hadn’t considered how much easier it would be to say yes to every consecutive drink. Especially as it tasted way better than I’d anticipated.
I’m pretty sure I remember most of last night, though my memories are strangely choppy.
I'm so embarrassed. Or well, I guess I feel like I should be, even though I'm weirdly not. I feel… peaceful. Strangely, so.
I guess it just hasn't really sunk in yet. I'm still at Mike and Will's, and their place feels so disconnected from my regular life that I just… it doesn't feel like anything matters here.
Yes, I keep vomiting in the sink whenever I try to so much as drink water, but Mike and Will don't seem to care. And I don't care if they care, you know?
It feels… good, in a way, letting someone see me as a complete mess. There's no salvaging my dignity anyway - not when they saw just how bad I was last night.
Mike has been really cool about it though. He said he called mom to let her know I was spending the day here so I've just been hanging out here at their house. It's … well, it's been pretty chill. It's nice just hanging out here quietly writing while they just do their own thing. Mike is grading papers at his desk in the corner, and Will is reading on the couch and I'm just also here, writing in my diary.
I'm really hungry though, but I tried to eat the waffles Will made this morning and just immediately puked it up again. It's so annoying. I can't even drink water without it coming up again.
Seriously, why do people love drinking so much? I've been sick all morning.
Anyway, I’m not looking forward to facing our mother, though she has no reason to suspect I did anything wrong, and at least I can put her in a good mood by telling her Nancy will be home for thanksgiving. At least, I hope she joins us. It wouldn’t be unheard of her leaving halfway through the afternoon to join the Byers’. I should ask if Mike plans on coming…
What if he says no?
He hasn’t come home for the holidays in years.
I don’t want to think of my parents’ reaction when he declines an invitation now he’s living two streets away.
I’ll ask later - he seems pretty preoccupied anyway.
I’m trying not to think about the fool I made of myself last night - Will and Mike is one thing, but what must everyone else have thought? I get shivers just trying to imagine it.
No, I’m not going to think about it.
I’m just going to grab Mike’s guitar.
The pounding in her head only got worse as she pushed herself up from the matrass. The blinds weren’t drawn, the lights cutting harshly into her eyelids as she squeezed them shut. The taste in her mouth was absolutely terrible, only worsened by the sandpaper texture of her throat.
She felt shriveled up, like alcohol was still dripping out her pores until she as completely empty.
In other circumstances, she might have panicked about waking up in the unfamiliar environment; The too-bare walls and the unfamiliar sheets, the emptiness of the room nothing like the room she was supposed to have woken up in - either her own or Whitney’s.
Yet in the moment she didn’t care about much else than fighting the roiling wave of nausea that was making the room spin.
She groaned as she tentatively tried opening her eyes again, taking a moment to gather her surroundings. There was a bucket by the side of her bed - empty, luckily - and a glass of water with some aspirin on the nightstand, but that and the white sheets really were about as far as the decor went. Turning her head to bravely face the giant floor-length window on the opposite side of the bed, she caught a glimpse of trees swaying in the morning light. It wat strangely peaceful, even despite the state of her.
Suddenly terribly aware of her need to pee, Holly forced herself to get out of bed, relieved when it strangely enough helped feel her more steady. She took the pill laying on the nightstand, and swallowed it down with a small sip of water.
Uncertain of what she would find on the other side, Holly was careful in opening the bedroom door.
The short hallway held only one other door on this side of the stairs, a closed one at the end. To the left there was a door facing the stairs, which was left open a little bit, and then two more on the opposite end of the hallway. Not wanting to accidentally end up in Will’s room, she decided to try the door facing the stairs. Sounds of rustling paper came from down the stairs, but Holly ignored it, not wanting to deal with people just yet. They could yell at her later - right now she didn’t even care.
Pushing the door closed behind her, she was relieved to find she was right; the floor and walls were lined with white square tiles, two sinks hangin on the wall to her right, and a tub lined the back wall, a horizontal window above it stretching the entire length, and - thank god - a toilet sat against the wall to her right.
She sunk down on it, burying her head in her hands as she groaned into her palms.
How could she have been so goddamn stupid?
After she flushed, she stepped over to the sinks to wash her hands, stepping in sight of the mirror hanging above it.
She looked terrible. Her eyeliner had already been intentionally smushed for her costume, the black of it now sweeping over her entire face, flakes littering her hollow-looking cheeks. She wasn’t sure if the bluish tint to her skin was also a result of melted make-up or simply the results of the alcohol and exhaustion, but she’d never want to look like this ever again.
You think I’m vain?
Ugh, her own voice echoed in her head, and she cringed at the memories starting to filter through the fog. As she glared at her own reflection in the mirror, her gaze dropped to the light blue and white striped pajama set that was hanging off of her, obviously way too fucking big.
“Gross.” Holly crinkled her nose at the thought of wearing her brother’s pajamas, feeling like her skin was crawling, though she had to admit the thought of waking up in her skirt and white blouse was definitely less appealing. At least she’d been sober enough by the time they’d returned home that she’d been able to change.
She opened the drawer looking for a towel, glad to find seemingly clean ones stacked on one side, and groaned in relief when she found a used bottle of micellar water and some moisturizer left to the side with a packet of cotton pads.
Refusing to think about who could have possibly left make up remover in her brother’s bathroom, Holly tried to take small blessings in rubbing her face raw until she was satisfied and then slathered her face with moisturizer.
When she could no longer stall, and her stomach was grumbling in protest, she finally pushed her way out of the bathroom. She only allowed herself to hesitate by the stairs for a moment, before reminding herself she didn’t care and heading down.
Mike and Will’s house looked different in the daylight; it was obviously brighter, but Holly wasn’t used to this much daylight inside. The windows were huge and everywhere, light bouncing off the white walls and reflecting off the picture frames. It was a far cry from their musty basement. The living room was empty, so Holly followed the voices through the dining room and into the kitchen.
“You’re so wrong, Nance! No, I- I don’t care what Jonathan says, it sucked ass!”
Holly squinted at the sun shining directly into her eyes the second she rounded the corner, scowling at the onslaught of noise and sound. Her eyes darted from Mike sitting on the counter against the left wall with the phone to his ear to Will standing by the waffle maker at the kitchen island, his laugh bubbling through the room. There was a radio on a shelving nook to her right, the volume turned down, but Holly could still make out the hints music filtering through, interlaced with the sound of the host’s comments.
“Mike!” Will’s reprimand was way too fond to be serious, a smile still gracing his face lighting up his eyes. Holly had never seen them like this, so relaxed and open, and it was getting harder and harder to ignore the fact she was intruding on their space.
God, she’d been angry with Mike, behaved like a total brat, but they’d still picked her up when she’d called.
“Oh, hey, Holly,” Will was the first to acknowledge her, though she’d caught Mike’s eyes darting towards her before something said on the phone required his full attention and he started ranting on something Holly vaguely recognized as sci-fi related. “How you feeling?”
Holly tried for a weak smile, though she took the question as permission to step further into the kitchen and sink down at a seat at the island across from Will, sinking her head in her hands again. “Like I fell through a pine tree.”
Will cringed, his voice distant as he asked, “That bad, huh?”
There was a sound of glass sliding over marble, and Holly looked up to find water pushed in her direction. She took it, swallowing it down in careful sips. “God, why do people even do this?”
Mike was still talking on the phone, and Holly had a hard time filtering the noise out; He seemed comfortable talking to Nancy, like they did this every Saturday and not just to catch up and make sure they were still alive somewhere. Their conversation had clearly been going for a while, and with every minute that passed Holly couldn’t help but think it lasted longer than her own conversations with her older sister. Meanwhile she can’t remember talking to Mike on the phone once.
“Do what?” Will asked as he opened the waffle maker to pry them loose and plate them, his head tilted in concentration.
“Drink.” Holly mumbled, a wave of embarrassment crashing over her. God she’d been so stupid.
“No, she’s just joined us,” Mike was saying by the phone, and Holly allowed herself to be distracted by it, not meeting Mike’s eyes but instead watching the way his fingers curled around the cord. “Still breathing, back upright, no puke on my new pajamas as far as I can see - so far so good.”
“Yes, the one you got me for my birthday - yes I know that’s from months ago, but it still counts as new if I haven’t worn them yet!”
Holly glanced at Will to catch him rolling his eyes, even as he turned back to the fridge to grab something.
“It’s not rude! I could be saving them for a special occasion.” Mike groaned, but there was a smile around his lips, that infuriating glint in his eyes that told Holly he was being a shit on purpose. “How long did we live together? You know I don’t like wearing pajamas to bed. I could go into more detail but Holly can hear me.”
Mike’s grin widened diabolically and Holly scoffed, trying to fight back her gag reflex.
“Speaking off - yeah, exactly - sure, yes,” Mike was nodding again, before he pulled the phone away from his ear and met Holly’s eyes. “The boss wants to speak to you.”
Holly felt dread sinking into her stomach, getting down from her chair and walking over to the phone. Mike slid off the counter as he handed over the receiver, and the sight of the blue hue under his eyes made Holly duck her face, shame roiling in her belly. She held the phone gingerly, trying to brace herself as she put it to her ear. She turned into the wall, keeping her voice low as she let out a soft “hey”, but it wasn’t necessary - Mike was already walking away, hurrying to Will’s side and helping him set the table.
It seems he was perfectly content allowing her her privacy.
“Hi, Holly, how are you feeling?” Nancy’s voice was unbearably kind on the other side, the connection stable enough that Holly could imagine her standing right next to her. She thought her and Jonathan aught to be home, and pictured her sitting on her couch in the living room as Jonathan prepared breakfast, a strange reflection of Will by the counter.
“Bad.” Holly huffed, the word the only one coming to mind but saying everything that needs to be said.
“Yeah,” Nancy agreed, the hint of a smile in her voice. “It will fade. By tomorrow morning you’ll be your perky little self again.”
Holly hummed in agreement and disbelief. She’s tired, even though she just got up, and she felt awfully wrong footed, standing barefoot in an unfamiliar kitchen, her sister’s voice in her ear. She couldn’t even think about what she would face going home.
“Hey,” Nancy’s voice softened as Holly had allowed the silence to stretch for too long. “I’m proud of you.”
“Don’t say that,” Holly argued, grinding her teeth as she felt a wave of tears well up behind her eyelids. It was undeserved, and the emotion that came with it shocked her, her throat hollow and aching as she tried to swallow the feeling down.
“I am!” Nancy insisted. “Sure, last night wasn’t perfect, but you called for help when you needed it. You called someone you know you could trust, even your dipshit older brother.”
Holly forced a watery laugh at her sister’s attempt at making her smile.
“It’s better than I would have done,” Nancy’s voice hollowed, getting quieter and more serious. “As smart as I think I am, I’m ridiculously stupid when drunk. Mike is too - don’t let him tell you otherwise, though in a completely different way. Either way, don’t let it become a habit.”
“I definitely won’t.”
“And cut our brother some slack, okay?” Nancy’s gentle voice made Holly frown, staring down at her bare feet. She didn’t do her toenails last night, the paint still the chipped pink she’d put on two weeks ago. “Yes, he’s lame and annoying and a pest sometimes, but he’s been really brave about moving back to Hawkins.”
“What does that even mean?” Holly whined into the receiver, tilting her head back in frustration and rolling her eyes.
“Just- just think about it.”
“Sure, Nance.”
“By the way, Jonathan and I were thinking of coming down for the entire Thanksgiving week, so keep a spot open for us in your calendar, yeah?”
Holly brightened, excitement bubbling in her chest. Her eyes started stinging again, the first genuine smile of the day pulling at her lips at the thought of getting to see her older sister again soon. She’d not been thinking about Thanksgiving yet, Nancy and or Jonathan not always being able to make it, but the confirmation that they weren’t only be coming, but would be taking time off for it was enough to send her head spinning. “Really?”
“Yeah, we’re still figuring out the details on where we’ll be staying, but you’ll hear from us again soon. I’ve got to go now, Hols.”
“Of course,” Holly mumbled, eyes darting over to where Mike and Will were already seated at the kitchen table, Mike squirting syrup over both his and Will’s plate while Will was pouring cups of coffee. “I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”
“Very soon. Love you, Hols. Say bye to Will and Mike for me and Jonathan.”
Will woke up disoriented. He could tell it was late in the morning, his body reminded it was Saturday by the lack of an alarm and the hope of daylight filtering in through the gaps in the curtain. Yet, it clearly wasn’t a regular Saturday morning. For one, he wasn’t as well rested as usual, his limbs tired and heavy, and his head groggy and slow.
Which lead to the question as to why he was awake - the clock on the nightstand told him it was earlier than he usually woke on Saturday, and the exhaustion should have kept him sleeping until much later.
Yet, the answer hit him as soon as the question had come to mind; the bed was cold, the sheets too light without the weight of an arm wrapped around his middle. The thought of going back to sleep wasn’t nearly as appealing without the familiar warmth radiating off of his fiancé, and his dark curls tickling his neck.
Grumbling, Will pushed himself up to look around their bedroom for clues as to where he could have gone. The room was in shadows, the door to the en-suite closed but with no light spilling out from under it. The bedroom door was shut as well.
Groaning even louder, Will pushed the covers off of him and got to his feet. The heating was starting to struggle now they were nearing November, and the house had too many windows fucking with the insulation, so Will slid into the slippers Mike had gotten him three christmases ago before stepping off the carpet. He looked around for his sweater when it wasn’t in its usual spot on the chair in the corner, and found it in a heap by the door instead.
The sight of it caused him to remember the night, and it didn’t take long to figure why Mike was up already. He sighed before bending down to pick it up and tug it on, the chill of the floor clinging to it.
Stepping out into the hallway, he made sure to be as quiet as possible. The house was still new to them, the doornobs and floorboards still unfamiliar, so Will was extra careful as he closed to bedroom door behind him. Daylight bounced off the white walls from the skylights, a stark contrast that had him squint his eyes in annoyance as a yawn snuck up on him. The door to his left was open a little, and after a moment of adjusting to the light, Will took a step closer just to sneak a look through the gap left between the frame.
Holly was still in the same position they’d left her in, her blonde hair spread out over her pillow and her chin tilted down, the sheets pulled up to her shoulders. It didn’t seem like she’d been puking again, her chest rising steadily in her sleep even as her face was scrunched unpleasantly. Will leaned back and pulled the door all the way shut before carefully heading for the stairs.
They’d chosen this particular house for all the wrong reasons, it seemed, as the true perks of it were revealed to them with each passing day.
Like walking down the stairs, his eyes immediately finding his partner, getting a birds-eye view of him sunk into the couch cushions with his feet propped up on the coffee table. He wats wrapped in his blue robe, his hair messy as ever, his reading glasses perched on his face as he stared blearily at a stack of papers in his hand, red pen in the other.
“Grading this early on a Saturday morning? What have your students done to deserve this?” He joked, his feet finding their own way to the couch. Mike glanced up at him as he sunk down next to him, his arm automatically coming up around Will’s shoulders as he sleepily curls into his side.
“They got my sister drunk.” Mike grumbled, returning his attention to the paper. Will knew he was joking, if only because he was grading Sally Bennett’s paper and she was only a Freshman.
“Did you get any more sleep?” Will glanced up, his nose brushing Mike’s cheek accidentally. The corners of Mike’s lips twitched and he turned his head to look at Will, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. Will let it linger, pressing into the familiar feeling and allowing himself to indulge. He already got his answer anyway.
Will eventually pulled away and relaxed back into Mike’s side as Mike returned his focus on his papers. He was content to just doze for a little while, watching as Mike circled words and tried to come up with a fitting grade.
The sun was almost at the top of their windows when they finally heard movement upstairs, the sound of a door opening and closing. Will yawned before pressing a kiss to Mike’s cheek. “I’ll make breakfast.”
Hi everyone! I made a Byler community for people to talk about anything Byler pre-season 5 in an attempt to boost engagement in the fandom for people (me) that don't want to be spoiled for next season. It's open to literally anyone willing to join. the one rule is not to spoil anything season 5 related. Please join if you like!
For people that want to talk Byler but still want to be surprised by s5.
[Outgoing call, Saturday October 26th, 1996, 01:15am]
N: Hello?
M: Nance-.
N: Why are you calling at... 1 in the morning?
M: It’s Holly.
N: *more alert, panicked* What’s wrong? Is she okay?
M: Kind of? *sounds of shifting fabric* *general twitchiness*
N: *sharp* Mike.
M: *reluctant sigh* Will and I had to pick her up from a payphone. Drunk.
N: *shocked* What?
M: She went to a halloween party, got drunk, and left because she didn’t want anyone to see her drunk!
N: I - *voice softer* is she okay?
M: She’s been puking a lot but otherwise she seems fine. Will's taken her up to the guestroom.
N: That’s good, I guess. Where were her friends?
M: *exasperated* *rambling* She didn’t tell anyone she was leaving! She’s ridiculous! I told her just yesterday she shouldn’t be running around in the dark on her own and now this?
N: I mean, Mike, what were we doing at that age? Even after Will went missing!
M: *louder, agitated* Yes, exactly, and look at where it got us!
N: *silence*
M: *thoughtful silence* *clothes shifting* *soft tapping on a wooden surface*
M: I should tell mom, right?
N: *hesitant silence continues*
N: I don’t know… * pause* She called you for help?
M: Yeah, but-
N: *cutting over Mike* *determined* Well, okay then. No harm done.
M: *rushed* *bewildered* But she can’t just -
N: *cutting over Mike* Mike, she trusts you. She called you for help. Wouldn’t you rather have her call you again the next time something goes wrong?
M: *confused* Why aren’t you more upset about this?
N: *reluctant silence* *rustling of sheets* Well- I used to be 16 once…
M: What does that mean?
N: *annoyed huff* None of your business!
M: *pointed pause*
N: *reticient* Let’s just say I’m not going to be a hypocrite.
M: *sound of nails tapping on tile*
M: So what - just because we used to run around chasing demogorgons, we should just let her do the same?
N: I’m not talking about that-
M: *sharp* Fine, okay but what do I do? Do I just put her to sleep?
N: *sigh* *sound of a phone changing hands*
J: *tired* Just put her in the guest room with a bucket and make sure she sleeps on her side.
M: *snort* How often does Nancy get wasted?
N: *muffled, distant* fuck off, you nerd.
J: Some people party in college as they should.
M: Yeah- yeah, and some people had friends in high school.
J: Go take care of your sister, dweeb.
[Call Disconnects, Saturday October 26th, 1996, 01:22am]
lovingly girl i hope you don’t drop this again because i am HOOKED. you are a genius and i love getting holly’s take on everything. my heart breaks like 15 times a chapter because she doesn’t know!!!! she doesn’t understand!!! but also what a valid way to feel about everything, damn. i am STAYING TUNED BABEY —user hellfiremike (it’s a side acct so i can’t do asks from it annoyingly)
❤️❤️❤️❤️
My all time favorite Mike talking point is "He's only fifteen!!!!" so i really started this Holly characterisation with "she's only sixteen!!!!!!!". Because she is!!!! And it's the 90s! And she's from a tiny midwestern town!
Especially because she's a latecomer, I think Holly would have been shielded from family drama in general, let alone something as ""confusing"" as queerness. And I think Mike and Nancy are so used to shielding her from and keeping her in the dark about all the supernatural shit they deal with, that they just got too used to keeping things from her.
Also she's sixteen so she's a bit too self-involved to pick up on any clues. (Another Mike trait she inherited ❤️)
I just I do love Holly so much. She's my angel baby.
I definitely want to continue this story, but, though there might be more frequent updates now due to it all happening on the same day, I'll probably struggle updating once a week for the time being as i'm in my hospital internships so i'm busy busy busy.
[Harlan's Car And Motor, Camera 3, 10/26/1996, 00:32]
Grainy black-and-white security footage of a light-haired girl sitting on a curb next to a payphone in the right bottom of the frame. She’s wearing a dark skirt and knee-high boots with a white short-sleeved t-shirt, ripped at the hems. A black cardigan lays discarded by her feet, and her wrists and neck are covered with chains. Her elbows are propped up on her knees, head tilted slightly to the right as it rests on her hands. She’s gently swaying as she sits, but otherwise motionless.
There’s a sound of a car door slamming outside of the frame, followed by rushed footsteps and a sharp voice. “Holly!”
The girl’s head shoots up, eyes catching something outside the left of the frame. “Fi-nally.”
She starts to stand up, pushing herself up from the ground unsteadily, but a tall man with dark, curly hair runs into the screen and grabs her arm to help her get up. He’s wearing jeans and a sweater that doesn’t quite sit right, as if thrown on hastily.
"Holly- aren't you freezing?" He notes the cardigan by her feet and ducks down to grab it, dusting it off with a few flicks of his wrist before wrapping it around her shoulders in a quick move. The girl, Holly, rolls her head, clearly disoriented and miserable as she allows the man to drag her back towards the left side of the frame where, presumably, a car waits.
“What were you thinking?!"
“I didn’t want anyone to see me."
“You didn't-," He starts, exasperation clear in his voice and movements, "I just told you how dangerous it is to walk home on your own!”
Annoyed, voice slurred as she stops them in their tracks; “I-s Hawkins.”
“Exactly!” The man’s breathing intensifies as he turns towards her, clearly agitated. “You can’t just put your vanity over your own safety like this! If you didn’t want your friends to see you drunk you shouldn’t have gotten drunk!”
“Mike-.” Another man enters the frame, also wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. His hair is lighter and straight, his expression pinched with sympathy.
Before he can say anything else, Holly pushes Mike away, stumbling unsteadily on her feet without his support. “You think I’m vain?! And I didn’t-,”
Holly stops talking as her stumbling intensifies, turning towards the right side of the frame where the curb is lined with shrubbery. She takes a few steps closer to them before bending over, shaking as she’s clearly vomiting.
“Holly-,” Mike groans, as he moves forward to help steady her and pull her hair out of her face. The other man stands back, uncertain, before turning around and walking out of frame.
“I’m fine,” Holly mumbles as she straightens again. The light-haired man returns, holding a bottle of water. He screws it open, before stepping up to the other side of Holly and holding it out to her.
He asks; “Holly, at what time were you supposed to be home?”
She spits into the shrubbery. “I’m sleeping at Whitney’s.”
Mike and the other man exchange a look.
The light-haired man sighs, glancing at Holly as his face hardens with determination.
“Stay here, I’ll drive to Melissa’s to see if I can find Whitney.”
“What- no-“
“She might be worried, Holly!” Mike cuts in. “You left without saying anything and she's responsible for you.”
"No, Dylan is responsible for us.” Holly slurs, face twisting. “But she cancelled. She cancels a-lot.”
“Okay, Holzie, let’s sit down.” Mike guides Holly onto the curb. The other man sends Mike a look over her head, nodding before he walks back out of frame, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut and an engine roaring to life.
Once Holly is fully sitting down again, Mike sits down next to her, elbows resting on his knees, hands twisting. His eyes follow something out of frame - most likely the car. His expression is hard to decipher in the grainy footage.
Holly leans her head against Mike’s right shoulder, eyes drooping shut, and at the touch Mike looks back toward her, the angle lighting his features as they darken.
"What were you thinking?"
Holly's face is turned into Mike's shoulder, her voice faint and barely caught by the camera's microphone. "Wasn’t."
Mike snorts, obviously still trying to remain angry. His left knee starts bouncing quickly in front of him. "Clearly."
"I didn't know it would feel like this."
"And yet, I'm sure you knew it's illegal."
“What?” She scoffs again, halfheartedly, “Are you going to report me?"
"I could - no I should - tell mom and dad."
Holly's shoulders hiccup, as if letting out a laugh, tone sarcastic as she pushes herself away from Mike, seemingly angry. "That would mean talking to them."
Mike’s head twists as if rolling his eyes, turning to keep her in his line of sight. “I talk to mom!"
"Sure." Holly's voice sounds tired, slowing down as she trails off.
Mike sighs and runs a hand through his hair. He glances back towards the upper left corner of the frame, lifting his left wrist to look at his watch. His shoulders slump, before he turns back towards Holly. After a moment, he asks; "What are you even supposed to be dressed as?"
"The girls from The Craft!" Her voice sounds louder, as if offended, shaking the bracelets on her wrists. Distracted by her own jewellery, she drops her hands in her lap, toying with the charms. "It was Dylan's idea."
"Oh, okay. Sure." Catching sight of the bottle of water next to her, he nudges her shoulder. "Drink."
Holly's face scrunches up in distaste, but she picks up the bottle and does as ordered. After a few tentative sips, she puts it down again.
They continue to sit in silence as the clock on the screen shifts numbers, until a beam of light traces over them, causing Mike to perk up, gently shaking Holly's shoulder. "Will's back."
He stands up, offering his hands to Holly and pulling her up when she takes them. Holly wobbles on her feet and whines again.
"I don't feel-," She cuts herself off and turns away from Mike, returning to the shrubbery to vomit once more.
The engine continues running, but the light-haired man, Will, walks into frame again, keeping his distance.
"Is she still vomiting?" He frowns, eyeing the pair wearily. "At what point do we have to worry about dehydration?"
"She was fine until a moment ago." He groans. "Maybe she got up too fast."
"I"m sorry," Holly whines again, straightening up and pushing her hair out of her face. "This sucks."
"Let's just go home," Will sighs, urging her and Mike towards the car.
Mike opens the door for her, eyeing her wearily as he curses under his breath. "Damn it, Holly, if you vomit in our new car, you're cleaning it out."
"I won't! I promise!"
"I don't think that's a promise within your power to keep." Mike helps her into the back seat, and Holly disappears from view behind him. He takes another moment to look into the car, before finally turning away and closing the door.
He turns towards Will, who's standing a few steps to his right, watching with a frown. Their eyes meet, and they seem to hold a conversation without speaking. Eventually Will tilts his head and shrugs, carefully, and Mike lets out a heavy sigh.
"What are we even doing here?"
Seemingly reluctant, a smile blooms over Will's face, letting out a chuckle as he reaches out to grab Mike's hand. He pulls Mike with him as he takes a step back, squeezing his hand in a quick, practiced move, before dropping it again. Mike keeps his gaze as Will continues walking around the car to the driver's side, both now grinning widely.
Opening the passenger door, Mike shakes his head and sighs again, before breaking his gaze from Will's and dropping into the front seat. The door slams shut behind him, only a second before the driver's side does the same, and the screen stays unmoving for a couple of seconds before the car takes a wide turn and disappears from view.
The frame is empty again, except for its usual sight, everything still and unmoving except for the occasional branch twitching in the wind and the numbers in the bottom left of the screen counting upwards.
[Harlan's Car And Motor, Camera 3, 10/26/1996, 01:13]
Mike is such a DOUCHEBAG!
What? Just because he’s back in town he thinks he can dictate how I live my fucking life?! I knew this would happen! Knew he would just go back to looking at me like the goddamn 5 year old he couldn't give a damn about! That was nothing but a nuisance!
As if I can’t take care of myself!
God, if he thinks I give a shit about his opinion he’s going to be sorely disappointed! Sure, not jumping four feet in the air and possibly breaking my neck at seven in the morning where no one will find me for at least another hour, made sense. That I can place and admit to being dangerous! But just running? What? I’m so fragile I might twist my ankle?
Fuck, and the way he yelled at me? Like I’m some dumb child that should know better?? I do know better! Which is why I always leave a note with my exact route and expected time of return - not even because I think anything might happen, but because I have common human decency and don’t want mom to worry when she wakes up to find me gone! Something he could’t give a rat’s ass about!!
Seriously, it’s so fucking rich that he thinks he has the right to scold me about running around Hawkins - Hawkins of all places, as if there are more boring towns than this! - in the dark without adult supervision! I’m so mad it’s insane. I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed off before, it’s genuinely quite impressive.
To think that an hour ago I was so content to wake up early and go for a run before school. I was in such a good mood too - he ruined it.
He just doesn’t understand! I already can’t practice my routine - not the full, difficult parts of it - so the least I can do is work on my cardio and stamina! But when I tell him that he’s all like “just ask a friend to come along next time!” And I try to tell him that’s not an option but he just - ugh. He doesn’t get it. There’s no point in practicing extra when everyone knows you’re doing it. It will just make everyone think I’m being a try-hard or a suck-up or whatever! Or just think I’m being weird for needing the extra practice!
Great, now I’m crying again because I'm pathetic! Fucking Mike. Fuck this shit.
Okay, so I didn’t actually finish this entry, for many reasons. I didn’t even start it properly - not that the “dear diary” really matters, I guess, but it’s the principle of the thing.
Anyway, even though it’s been hours, I’m still pissed off, don’t worry, but at least now I have the time and state of mind to finish. I’m skipping English as I’m writing this down - I know it’s terrible for a lot of reasons.
1, my school record, but what is Mike going to do? Report me? Fuck that. And fuck him.
2, It’s letting him win. I recognise that. But I guess I’m weak because I really can’t deal with seeing him right now. God I hate him.
3, Danny is probably wondering where I am, which means I’ll have to tell him what happened.
Damn - maybe I didn’t think this through. I can probably spin it - say I wasn’t feeling well or something. Except I don’t want to lie to him either…
Well, it’s not technically a lie. Still, I’ll probably just tell him some part of the truth - he can know I was pissed at Mike. He doesn’t have any siblings but he’ll probably understand anyway.
To think that for a while I considered myself an only child… tragic.
I was so fucking close to just having a cool older sister that was too far away to meddle in my life.
I was in control of my life - I still am!
Mike just thinks he has a say all of a sudden - which he doesn’t. Two weeks of being civil does not a brother make!
Seriously, it was so disorientating to just be running one minute, thinking nice thoughts, wondering about the english assignment, only for Mr. Wheeler himself to actually see me and come storming out freaking out about me running in the dark! It's Hawkins in October! It's dark all the time!
I was so shocked, I could barely defend myself. God, the neighbours will probably have wondered what the fuck was going on - If our shouting match didn’t wake them I’m sure they’re dead.
The worst part was that I still had to go to school after… I'm sure everyone could tell I was off. Or at least Dylan would have, if she hadn't been a thousand miles away today herself. I'm kind of glad for it. Danny sending me worried glances was more than enough, and just getting to listen to Whitney rattle on about yearbook and today's lunch and whatever else was not living up to her standard was nice. Distracting.
Still, I wish I could just go home already - I want to lie down and mope and pretend like it's still three months ago when Mike was far far away! Then I wouldn't have to deal with his judgement and his meddling and his passive-aggressiveness towards mom and dad. And I could just kiss my boyfriend in school without fearing he might see.
Sadly, I still have cheer practice and I can't skip it. It's already bad enough that Dylan has a brace around her wrist again.
This just reminded me I'm still wearing Mike's bracelet - it really shouldn't make me feel better but it does. It's petty as hell, and he probably doesn't even remember it exists, but whatever.
Let’s see - the last few days have kind of been a blur.
I don’t think I did anything particularly interesting, just following my routine - same old same old. I had to spend all of Sunday catching up on my homework, so nothing special happened there. Mike let me take his old guitar home, though, and the reading for English class is going a lot better now I can alternate chapters of Walden with a moment of playing music. My Oasis tape has been running non-stop.
Cheer practice is going fine - the routines are a bit easier now so I’m having less trouble. I try to practice the harder ones as often as possible, but I still haven’t found a solution for practicing the jumps on my own.
Oh! I almost forgot - On Sunday, I watched Dracula! Danny recommended it and I wanted to watch something while finishing my homework. It was too good - I had to pause it and rush to finish my homework so I could watch it properly; This is exactly why I usually play something I’ve already seen.
I wish we could have watched it together though, but we’ve both been so busy we’ve barely had the chance to spend time together. Whenever he doesn’t have basketbal practice, I have cheer or babysitting, or he has to work at the diner. Mrs. Benson is doing a lot better, at least, so I don’t have to go over as often. Danny joins us for lunch most days, though, and I try to come to the diner as much as possible - it’s nice, just being able to talk to him, even if it’s in snippets between him serving the other customers. Christy doesn’t seem to mind it too much, either, as long as Danny doesn’t leave anyone waiting for too long.
Still, I hope we can go on an actual date again soon.
Mom already hinted at having him over for dinner and I’m… Not sure how to feel about that.
I mean, Danny’s great and I’m sure Dad will like him - I already know mom does because she can’t stop raving about our homecoming pictures. She went to pick them up from the developer on Monday and though I do look terrible in a lot of them, there’s some really cool pictures as well - ANYWAY, what I was trying to say (write? Whatever) was that it feels weird to have him over for dinner with the family.
I was too young to remember the first time Jonathan joined us for dinner - if he ever did before they both went off to college - so it’s not like I can look to my older sister for an example.
Lord knows Mike never brought a girl home.
What I’m trying to say is - I have no idea how Mom and Dad are gong to act. Especially dad - there’s a big enough gap between me and Nancy that I’m sure dad is going to have to get used to his daughter dating all over again.
I might call Nancy and ask for advice - if she has the time, of course. She’s so busy lately running all over the place. When I called on Saturday she said they’d be coming back to the US on Tuesday, but it wouldn’t be the first time their stay got extended. I’ll probably just wait on her to call over the weekend, just in case.
I don’t know what else to write about really, but I’m at the diner and a table in the back is staring at me. I don’t know why - I know their faces but not their names. Pretty sure one used to be the school’s librarian before he retired a few years ago. I see him and the woman he’s talking to around town sometimes, walking dogs, or here at the diner drinking coffee and gossiping as they are now. Most residents always follow everything going on around them, and I’m sure they recognise me in turn from seeing me around one too many times, but today I swear they’ve been looking at me specifically for way too long.
So, I took out my diary and started writing so it seems like I’m not bothered and can’t hear what they’re saying.
It’s strangely unsettling. I don’t know - they seem judgemental, and I feel judged, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I’m not doing anything different. I don’t look anything different - I’m not wearing anything special. Sure, I’ve been talking to Danny a lot because it’s so calm today, but it’s not like we’re being particularly loud.
Pretty sure I just heard them say “the Byers kid” - which is strange, because a, I’m not a Byers, and b, I’m not my brother - hell, we don’t even look alike.
I didn’t even realise they knew who I was, let alone who my brother’s friends are. Anyway, it’s weird how hung-up they are about Mike and Will’s return to Hawkins - I mean, it’s been more than two months, and they were only gone for - what? Seven? Ish? Years? I don’t even know.
I guess that’s the one downfall from living in a small town.
Most of the time it’s an advantage - like havig to go to the post office during the summer and getting to chat with Dylan while she works, or feeling completely at home in a diner because you know every face there. It’s nice knowing your neighbours and your neighbour’s neighbours in turn.
Like last week, with Mrs. Benson, I heard soooo many stories about the people around town. And sure, it’s gossip which isn’t always nice, but more often than not it’s just keeping everyone updated. It’s how we all show we care - how else would Mom know who’s in desperate need of a casserole or a plate of cookies?
That sounds like a hyperbole or whatever - Mike would probably know the perfect term - but it’s more relevant than one might think.
Plenty people don’t know to ask for help - like Mrs. Benson - and they’re just waiting on people to offer it.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from mom, is that more often than not overbearing is just bearing enough.
Anyway, Daniel and his mom are new to town too, but no one’s talking about that anymore either. Now I think about it, it is weird that people seem more hung-up about them than Danny. I mean, Danny and his mom are total outsiders - even if they only came from a few towns over - but at least Mike and Will are known strangers. They came back, which isn’t unheard of.
Mr. Howard, our PE teacher, for example, moved back in his thirties to take care of his ailing father. His father is still kicking around, by the by, even though he’s been back for almost twenty years now. Anyway, even though he’d been gone for seventeen years, everyone acted like he’d simply never left.
Max’ mom, on the other hand, still often gets reminded that she’s not from here, though it’s less obvious because the residents of the trailer park are used to people coming and going more than Suburbians, and also because she at least was here for ’86.
Now I think about it, it’s bothering me more and more.
I’ve always felt like I’m missing something - it’s often clear mom and Mike are talking around me - but I always just assumed it’s them being weird about Mike’s degree. That’s the one thing dad brings up sometimes when it’s about Mike, right before mom sends him a warning glare with pointed eyes at me. I don’t know - I get dad wanted us to do something practical, or at least, Mike, because dad has plenty of opinions on Nancy’s career as well. But he’s from a previous time, and honestly why Nancy wants to work so bad, I don’t understand.
Anyway, this took a turn.
I really keep getting carried away with these things.
The people are still there, but they seemed to have moved on conversationally, and it’s about time I head home anyway. I’m just going to say goodbye to Daniel and get going so I’m back in time for dinner.
It's Hawkins '96 and it's going to be her year. 16 years-old Holly is about to start her junior year at Hawkins High and everything is perfect.
Until she finds out her brother is moving back to town. Worse - he's the new English teacher.
Epistolary story by @eightfifteen
August 13th, 1996
August 16th, 1996
August 20th, 1996
August 26th, 1996
September 2nd, 1996
September 3rd, 1996
September 5th, 1996
September 7th, 1996
September 10th, 1996
September 13th, 1996
September 16th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 25th, 1996
September 27th, 1996
September 28th, 1996
September 29th, 1996
October 2nd, 1996
October 4th, 1996
October 6th, 1996
October 7th, 1996
October 13th, 1996
October 15th, 1996
October 17th, 1996
October 19th, 1996
Yesterday was so much fun! I haven’t been able to stop practicing Champagne Supernova all morning long. It’s still such a great song, and it’s even better now that I can play it myself.
It was weird leaving school with Mike yesterday though - first of all, to hang around after last period while everyone else rushed for the door, and then to wait as the school emptied out and Mike gathered his stuff. He had to make a detour past the office, so by the time we were on the parking lot it was basically empty.
I asked where Will was, and Mike explained that Will doesn’t have any classes on Friday afternoon so he went to pick up El from the greyhound terminal in Indianapolis. She is home again for a few weeks after spending the last two in Chicago with Max, Lucas, and Erica.
I was disappointed at first, but Mike assured me he’d be back for dinner. Just as I’d feared, it was awkward to be around Mike while it was just the two of us - I mean the only other time that has happened was when I was having a minor breakdown. It was a lot of awkward silence at first, asking stilted questions about how I was doing, and Mike tapping nervously on the steering wheel. I’d forgotten how twitchy he was, he manages to hide it well enough during class, but he does pace a lot, so that might be his outlet there.
Anyway, once he got back to his house it was a little easier - he got us something to drink and ran upstairs to grab his extra guitar - and then we settled into the sunroom to start practicing.
It was easy then - with the guitars between us like a barrier and having something to focus on that wasn’t each other. There was no expectation of talking about ourselves, no need to fill the awkward silence. The practice I got at at Stevenson’s paid off, as the intro to the song already went much smoother for me than it did Mike - I could even give him tips on shifting his fingers more easily.
By the time Will got back, I kind of regretted the interruption. It had been nice to spend time with Mike - after a while, it felt nothing like I’d feared; he didn’t make me feel small or like a child at all. For once, it felt like we were just friends hanging out.
Even the moments where he was being too much of an annoying know-it-all older brother were strangely welcome.
I just don’t get why it couldn’t have been like this all along. Why, when he actually should have been my older brother, he was a million miles away.
I can’t think about it too much - I get too frustrated.
Anyway, Will got back and started on dinner while we continued playing. It was nice of him to cook for us so we could have more time to practice. Mom showed up right on time for dinner, and though tonight was a lot more casual than last time, it was just as nice. It's strange how quickly you can get used to something. Mike and mom mostly talked about Nancy and Jonathan’s latest work trip to Argentina. Apparently Nancy called right before mom was about to leave which is why she was a bit delayed. I think that made it easier for them - not having to focus on each other.
I’m sad I missed the call, so I might try calling her myself later tonight.
Anyway, I won’t get around to completing Song of Myself today as I’d planned, as dad and I are going on a spontaneous trip to the antiquities market in Bedford. I should have just asked Mike to read it to me while I was there yesterday. Hell, maybe I can convince Mike to just give me the cliff notes for Walden because I’m really not looking forward to having to read that next weekend. I already tried reading it once two summers ago, the last time we went to the lake, because it seemed appropriate, and it made me want to carve my eyeballs out from boredom.
I kept waiting for something to happen and all it did was make me want to rewatch Friday the 13th just so I could imagine someone chasing this guy around his cabin with an axe.
Anyway, I’m excited to go out with dad today. He’d just casually mentioned seeing an ad for the market during breakfast - I don’t think he was actually planning on going until I asked if we could go together so I’m glad I did. He doesn’t leave the house often enough these days. And I’ve barely seen him since school started because I’ve been so busy myself.
I heard him and mom arguing last night - though I couldn’t hear much, I’m pretty sure it was about having dinner at Mike’s. I really can’t fault him over it either. It’s just so confusing because Mike and mom talked much easier than last time, but seem to agree on not letting dad join us as well - I really don’t understand.
I know dad and him don't have much in common, but it’s not like they fought all the time either. Hell, dad doesn’t even yell ever - not even when Mike disappeared for hours on end and had mom worried out of her mind for the millionth time. I know I have no experience yet in being an adult but I’m sure having your parents over is just something you have to put up with - even if it’s against your will.
Besides, how can you actually learn to enjoy spending time with your parents when you never give them the chance? Nancy and mom get along better now than they ever did before. And sure, Nancy gets frustrated too sometimes with dad’s opinions, but she still comes over whenever she can and deals with it!
But what do I know, right?
Anyway, I really should be getting ready - dad wanted to leave before 11 and I have to be back in time for cheer practice.
Love, Holly
PS. Also mom called the developer and our homecoming pictures should finally be done sometime next week!!! I’m so excited to see how they turned out!
It's Hawkins '96 and it's going to be her year. 16 years-old Holly is about to start her junior year at Hawkins High and everything is perfect.
Until she finds out her brother is moving back to town. Worse - he's the new English teacher.
Epistolary story by @eightfifteen
August 13th, 1996
August 16th, 1996
August 20th, 1996
August 26th, 1996
September 2nd, 1996
September 3rd, 1996
September 5th, 1996
September 7th, 1996
September 10th, 1996
September 13th, 1996
September 16th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 19th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 20th, 1996
September 25th, 1996
September 27th, 1996
September 28th, 1996
September 29th, 1996
October 2nd, 1996
October 4th, 1996
October 6th, 1996
October 7th, 1996
October 13th, 1996
October 15th, 1996
October 17th, 1996
The day I finally got my license, I left Hawkins for the first time on my own.
Taken by the illusion of independence, of freedom, and a joy for the leather steering wheel in my hands, I’d followed the widest road out of the town and driven for miles.
I didn’t get far by any stretch of the imagination. I don’t think I really wanted to. The moments the forests started thinning, houses populating the roads, I tried to steer away, tried to curve around the town and stick to the back roads, searching the feeling of tar-covered oblivion. It never felt satisfying enough, the roads never stretching far enough, my heart fluttering with a need to drive until my head was completely blank, until it was nothing but the never-ending trees and the tape playing over the car speakers.
I never quite got there. My mind has always been too crowded, notoriously hard to shut of, and even as I yearned to disappear over the horizon, to drive and drive for hours on end until I could physically feel my independence, my eyes kept darting to the dashboard, counting and calculating, always keeping track how long it would take for me to get back home.
I’d made it forty minutes before I came to a stop at a diner a little outside of Guthrie, an establishment far enough out of town that it looked like a lighthouse nestled between the trees. It was newer than the one in Hawkins, which still held the same wooden booths with dark green cushions and lamp shades dusted gold with age as when it had been built in ’39. This one was clean and unscathed, either built or renovated in the fifties or sixties, with neon lights that had to have been recently replaced judging by their shine, and walls painted in a fresh coat of mint green.
I’d sat down in one of the boots by the window, the place quiet except for the regulars that probably spent every Tuesday night there, and tried to take in the fact that I was out in the world for the first time.
We’d gone to Indianapolis before of course, either for a shopping spree or a visit to grandma while she’d still been alive, but that had always been with one or both of my parents. The farthest we’ve gone was a few holidays at Lake Monroe. Nancy and Mike used to come along when I was really little, but once he became a teenager, Mike refused to go.
After a few years of waiting for him to change his mind, dad finally decided Mike could just stay home on his own - of course, by then Nancy was already gone, so it was just the three of us. She’d tried to come during the weekends sometimes but could never stay long enough. I always liked how peaceful it was - just me, mom, and dad - but we never went for more than a week anyway. Mom and dad don’t like traveling much, and I think I’m starting to understand why.
Even glancing out the windows at the sugar maples, for all intents and purposes the same forest as the one surrounding Hawkins, I couldn’t help but feel out of place. My skin itched with discomfort, longing for the mint cushions to deepen into the dark green of the diner in Hawkins, for the faces sitting at the bar to become familiar.
A boy with warm acorn skin and soft eyes came up to me then, stilling my fidgeting hands around the menu. Wielding a notepad in front of him, his smile was bright and genuine as he asked for my order. Caught of guard, I rattled of my usual, and shouldn’t have been surprised that they served it. Nothing more exotic than coffee with sugar.
I watched the boy as he smiled before turning back to the counter, heading behind it to grab a cup and the carafe. The ease behind his eyes as he went through the motions distracted me from my own thoughts, falling into auto-pilot myself as I observed him, trailing his path from across the diner back to my table. He was nice to watch, calming somehow; the confidence in his posture intriguing, soothing, like a buoy in an ocean. I managed to smile in thanks as finished pouring my mug and left some packets of sugar, and with a glance at the other patrons - still quiet and content - he slid into the seat across from me.
I was strangely grateful, my nerves from being in the strange environment finally settling. Being outside of Hawkins itched at my skin, more so than usual now I was alone, like I’d stepped into another world rather than just another town. It wasn’t hostile territory by a long shot - especially not if everyone here were to have eyes as brown as the boy in front of me - but it felt wrong, a longing for home nestling under my sternum.
He introduced himself, and to this day I don’t know where he got the nerve, the ease with which he’d started the conversation. Now I’m starting to think I should have guessed all along - he was on his home turf, comfortable in his kingdom, eager to offer comfort to a girl so clearly out of her element.
When he’d move to Hawkins a months later, he’d be wrong-footed, surrounded by the unknown and the unexpected, always on guard. Here he was just a boy, smiling brightly at me until my heart rate was beating a waltz instead of a tango. We got to talking, about his town and mine, congratulating me on my license, and laughing in hushed whispers about the stories he could tell about the patrons still seated around the diner, whom he had to get up to tend to periodically.
It was long dark by the time I finally had to get up, way over my self-imposed curfew, having missed dinner in favor of sharing a basket of fries with Daniel. Somehow I got brave enough to ask if I’d see him around sometime, if he worked here often, but it had been his last week he’d said, would be wrapping up the school year and moving later that month, and the magical bubble popped, depositing me back into reality.
He was just a stranger, a kind one but a stranger nonetheless, and despite my earlier regret for having left Hawkins, I’d started daydreaming of weekly treks up the road. I’d hidden my disappointment well, instead feigning interest in where he would be moving to, heart skipping a beat when he responded with a familiar name.
The second time I saw him, the cheer squad was settling down in the diner, blindly finding our way to our usual table, distracted by each other. It was only when he stood at our table to take our order that I looked up at him, stunned into silence at the shy smile on his lips, the almost unrecognizable posture that spoke of uncertainty, off-key in his movements, like everyone had moved the furniture an inch to the left. The tables had turned.
And now as I’m watching him I can’t help but smile, reminded of the Danny I first met. He’s become more comfortable, more familiar with the space he’s inhabiting, and he wears it well. Even better - now, whenever he has a chance to breathe in between orders, his eyes are back to catching mine from across the room, smile wider than ever, confident and warm. It makes it all worth it - just sitting here at the bar, wasting my time at the diner in an attempt to spend some time with him. At least it allowed me to get our first meeting written down, to immortalise it on paper even if it was months ago now. Even if it means I have to stay up late to catch up on my homework.
At least Mike’s homework is easy enough to do in the diner even with all the distractions - we’re moving onto poetry so Mike gave us a bundle of poems to read by Monday. The fireside poets were fun enough, but I’m trudging my way through “song of myself” at the moment and though I really liked the first few sections, it’s getting too long and I can’t stay focused. I might just read the Emily Dickinson ones for now and keep the rest of Whitman for tomorrow. Or not tomorrow, as I'll be at Mike and Will's all afternoon. Saturday then.
