( ◄ II ► ) TRACK SEVEN
here, there

( Holly, Jolly, Part I )

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⠀⠀⠀⠀THE FOLLOWING MORNING, AFTER THORN IS STARTLED AWAKE by his six o'clock alarm, he swears he hears rain where there isn't any. It drizzles, then it pours, right there against his bedroom window... Until he drowsily rolls over onto his stomach and hears it again—closer this time, and louder, for the noise has shifted right into his head.

⠀⠀⠀⠀The very moment his eyes snap open, the rain ceases. Intuitively, moving by what little strength he has of his current consciousness, Thorn sits bolt upright in bed and glances around his room with a jackhammer for a heartbeat. He almost expects to see the noise as a physical thing in front of him, taking shape as an intruder or a ghostly apparition.

⠀⠀⠀⠀But the only thing he sees in his room short of giving him a heart attack is his alarm clock on his bedside table that reads 6:14. He must have fallen back to sleep sometime between the initial alarm and him hitting the snooze button.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Without really meaning to, he finds he is already staring at his radio. There it sits on the drawer cabinet across from him, below his window; below where he first mistook the noise for rain.

⠀⠀⠀⠀God, that thing gives him the creeps...

⠀⠀⠀⠀Tired and defeated, and definitely too cranky to want to face another school day, a groaning Thorn flops back against his mattress and smashes a hand down onto his alarm clock the instant it starts to blare again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He's just getting comfortable when there comes a soft knock at his door. Annoyingly, the person on the other side does not wait to be let in—never does.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Thorn, you up?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Regan's heads appears through the crack in the door, and then suddenly it's her whole body. She looks down at her brother with a sorry-not-sorry look about her expression, pretending not to notice the scowl he wears as his own.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Party hard last night?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn narrows his eyes in return. He's textbook sober—not one drop of alcohol consumed, no less. It's not his fault she made everything a chore by getting herself sick on half a can last night. Oh, and her blasting Led Zeppelin from his car after they ditched Harrington's place, singing terribly at the top of her lungs the entire way home? That really put the icing on the cake. But at least her taste in music wasn't crap.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn resists the urge to turn and bury his face into his pillows, retorting, "What do you want?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You have a phone call," says Regan.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"If it's Jane, I don't care."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"It's some kid named Jonathan."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What!" He sits bolt upright in bed again, hurting so many bones in the process. "Well, why didn't you just lead with that!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀She shrugs. "Not my problem."

⠀⠀⠀⠀He launches a pillow at her. "Out!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀It connects with her face in a dull sort of thwump. Thorn, in the process of climbing out of his covers, barely has time to register her wild cackle of laughter before he sees the pillow come hurtling back toward him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thwump. It's enough to send him teetering off sideways, whereupon he is once again lying prone against his mattress. The startled noise that comes out of him is an embarrassing squeak of, "Hey!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Regan is already fleeing out the door.

⠀⠀⠀⠀A minute later, after throwing a jersey over his pyjamas and racing into the living room, Thorn finally picks the handset of the telephone up and breathlessly says into it, "Byers?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀He's surprised to receive an immediate response—he honestly expected Jonathan to give up waiting and hang up on him. "Yeah, it's me," says the Byers a little stiffly. "Sorry if... I um, got your number from Jay."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh." Thorn blinks just as a clatter comes from inside the kitchen—Regan preparing herself breakfast. He turns his back to the noise. "That's okay. Did you...?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yeah, look—I thought about what you said yesterday, about letting me borrow your police scanner. Are you okay with bringing it to school today?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn internally applauds himself—operation "Help Jonathan Byers" is officially a go. "Sure. It'll be in your hands by the end of the day."

⠀⠀⠀⠀A beat passes. "...Thanks."

⠀⠀⠀⠀There comes a soft click through the line when Jonathan hangs up, leaving a dazed Thorn alone with the sound of the dial tone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀And then there's Regan, of course, whom is still schlomping around in the kitchen pulling out a dozen dusty dishes and slamming doors to cabinets. From his place in the living room, Thorn quietly watches this happen, and as she turns one final time with a mug in hand, she spots him staring, and pauses.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What?" she snaps.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What are you doing?" He remains stone-faced, despite finding the scene sort of endearing. "Aside from waking up the entire neighbourhood."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I happen to be making tea."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What happened to all the coffee?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You devoured the last of what we had the other night, you damn fiend. What sane person even has coffee at night?" Without looking, she tosses something over to him. "There, have that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn catches that something midair, then stares at it incredulously. It's a teabag. He doesn't like tea very much. Tea just reminds him of Jay's weird aunt who always insists on reading his tealeaves, whereupon he's usually always told to expect shit luck.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Go to shool," Regan orders from the kitchen, a slice of leftover pizza in her mouth. Literally says 'shool' like that, because of the pizza. "And definitely don't wear that jersey if you don't want to be made fun of."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn feels his expression change into one of offence as he pulls at the fabric of his jersey, and glances down at it. "What's so wrong with the Mets?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"We're New Yorkers. You'll stick out."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I already stick out."

⠀⠀⠀⠀She freezes mid-bite, blinks comically slow, and awkwardly swallows. "...Uh."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Will you be okay on your own today?" Thorn changes the subject. He can't stand the apologetic look she's giving him. He already gets enough of that from Jay and Auggie whenever they learn a new tidbit about his murky past or his parents. "Regan."

⠀⠀⠀⠀She blinks again. "What?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What happened with you last night, back at Harrington's. I won't come home later and find you in a similar state, will I?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀She takes a slow, calculated breath. "No," she answers. "I'm over that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Her word would have to do.

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◄ II ►

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⠀⠀⠀⠀AT THE UNDERWORLD—also known as high school—the world outside of Hawkins High shows no signs of ever having rained, just as Thorn suspected. On his way to first period, he steals a glance through the open door of the teachers lounge. Inside, a little box-television perched upon a filing cabinet greys over with an electric hum of static as a teacher messes with the antenna to find a clearer signal. The moment the teacher turns and sees him, looking particularly annoyed, he flinches, and the TV snaps back into clarity.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He doesn't stick around long after that—best not get himself in trouble anytime soon, lest he waste his final strike and earn himself a guaranteed ticket to juvie. He's supposed to be on his best behaviour.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Ha ha ha.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Weaving in and around talking students, Thorn heads to his classroom at the other end of the hall where, inside, he discovers only a few students have arrived before the bell. Among them is Beth H. in the far left corner of the room, chewing on a leftover pancake from breakfast. Jenny Palmer, Jay's same-age niece he treats more like a cousin (Weird family tree, they know), has her nose stuffed inside a book larger than her head. And at the back of the room, half asleep with drool coming out of his mouth, is one of Thorn's worst offending bullies, whom he avoids going near entirely.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn finds his usual seat at the desk in front of Jenny, centre-room. He's only there for maybe ten seconds before he's startled by a heavy stack of textbooks landing against the desktop next to his with a loud thwump.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He can't believe he hadn't heard it until now; the familiar sound of a basketball behind him. Up, down the ball bounces, until Thorn eventually sees it: Jay Palmer, catching the ball in one hand on the return bounce. He slumps into the empty seat beside Thorn.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Hey, Jen," Jay first greets her.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Her voice is bright and song-like as she gives a hello back without looking. Once she lowers that book of hers and gets a look at Jay, her once hidden smile morphs into a funny sort of sneer. "That dad's?" she asks.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yep. My brother's."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Lame."

⠀⠀⠀⠀She must be talking about the sweatshirt Jay is wearing; a maroon collegiate garment from his older-by-two-decades brother, Torrence (Jenny's father, in fact), who went away to study law at Harvard an eternity ago. From what Thorn has been told, he was the only kid from town to get into an Ivy League college on a full-ride scholarship in the past two decades—which, as anyone can imagine, is a lot for Jay to live up to.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Even still, Jay respects his brother a lot. Apparently enough to still wear his old sweatshirt.
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⠀⠀⠀⠀Snickering at Jenny after she rolls her eyes and returns to her book, Jay finally rounds on Thorn with a less than happy expression—this one, solely caused by him. "Where the heck were you, man?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sorry," is all Thorn can say at first, though he isn't exactly sure what he's supposed to be sorry for yet. He's busy rummaging around in his backpack, pulling out a textbook before diving back in to find a pen.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yesterday, you just up and vanish before last period," Jay is saying, "and now, now you're a no-show to homeroom?" He fixes Thorn a look of panic. "Who's to say you won't start missing days come next week, and then—and then!—all of school entirely? Oh, the horror!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn, chuckling at his companion's dramatic undertaking, throws the guy a sideways glance. "You're mad at me for missing roll call?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀In truth, Thorn had only arrived late to school because he'd promised Jonathan he'd get him that police scanner. It had taken Thorn an half hour of sifting through old boxes and furniture in the attic just to dig it out. There were a lot of... intense emotions and memories up in that attic, left behind to collect dust.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Jay pointedly jabs a finger into Thorn's shoulder. "You're totally one of them Ditchers now!" he jeers.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What! Says the guy who skipped out on class yesterday to go—" He stops himself short of exposing Jay's one and only best kept secret—that being his relationship with a boy, Ben. "Well... you know what."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn sneaks a glance around the room to make sure no one heard, even though the only person within earshot is just Jenny, and 'just' Jenny is cool.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Jay sneaking off to go make out with his secret boyfriend is really nothing new, and the shit-eating look on Jay's face is proof enough that he's proud of himself. On his desk, next to his stack of textbooks, is that basketball of his. One of Jay's arms is propped against it coolly, using it as a makeshift armrest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Apparently, despite that grin of his, it's Jay's turn to say, "Sorry... I overreacted. I just hate when I don't see you first thing in the morning." He rubs the middle point of his chest, his expression skewing in discomfort. "Gives me all sorts of indigestion problems..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀The sentiment is touching, if not a little bit corny. Also, Jay should probably get that checked out. "Okay," says Thorn, "then how about this." He raises a flat palm in the air as if swearing an oath. "I, Thorn Dillon-Holman, promise Jameson Palmer not to become "one of them ditchers" from here on out."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm gonna need more than that, buddy."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh, yeah?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Swear on this."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn has no idea what he means until Jay, tearing out of a page from a pad of refill paper, scrunches the page into a paper ball and tosses it with impressive precision across the length of the classroom. As expected, the paper ball lands soundlessly into a trash can beside the teacher's vacant desk. Nothing but net—or in this case, black trash bag lining.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn snickers. "Show off."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Jay smirks. "Your turn."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I am not swearing on—"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Make the shot, and swear on it!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Fine!"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Forgetting to line up his shot and focus, Thorn scrunches up a paper ball of his own and lobs it through the air toward the front of the classroom. There, it hits the rim of the trash can and teeters on the edge for what feels like an eternity before finally, pathetically falling with a hollow plop onto the ground.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn winces. "Oof..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Hiding his disapproval behind a quiet burst of a laugh, Jay says, "That was kind of sad." He smacks a palm against the brunette's back for good measure, then leans back as if waiting for a reaction. Thorn doesn't know if he's giving him quite the one he's looking for, though, because he's just sitting there, trying to make sense of what just happened. "Regardless... apology accepted."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Asshole," jokes Thorn.

⠀⠀⠀⠀And now, enter the face of Auggie Blue, who has waltzed into class followed by a tail of other students filing in like a coordinated tide of movement. Her staple pigtails are poking out from under a purple woolen beanie too big for her head, and the denim overalls she wears over a yellow sweatshirt are inked up with swirls and decals she drew on herself with permanent marker.

⠀⠀⠀⠀After approaching her two friends at their desks, Auggie exchanges small talk with Jay, telling him off as per usual for something he totally has no memory of. Thorn, not-so subtly trying to insert himself into the conversation, is immediately sidelined when Auggie steps directly in his way, her back to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Begrudgingly, Thorn slumps his arms down onto his desk and buries his head into the space between them. His voice comes out in a pressed mumble. "Okay, Auggie, I get it..." he says. "What'd I do this time?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Said girl spins on the heels of her yellow hued Converse, and Thorn glances up just in time to see her too-bright-to-be-genuine smile. "Oh, hey, Ditcher," she finally acknowledges him. "I didn't see you there."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Seriously?" whines Thorn, looking between his two best friends. "What is it, Gang Up On Thorn day?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀He's pretty sure that's just every day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀A wide-eyed Jay pokes his head out from behind Auggie, shaking his head at Thorn to shut up. Auggie, not noticing, sticks her hand deep into one of the pockets of her overalls to pull out a pack of cherry flavoured gum. Not bothering to ask them first, Auggie slides a stick of gum over to Thorn, and another to Jay. Both boys glaze over with a look of fear for a moment before they shrug, and tuck theirs away for later. Auggie unwraps a stick of her own, pops it into her mouth, and chews. Huh... And Thorn was certain the gum had to be explosive.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You're slackin' on me, kids," Auggie says, chewing loudly. She pats both boys on their shoulders with a firm yet scarily authoritative touch, then quickly shuffles away, taking her seat next to Jenny in the row behind them.

⠀⠀⠀⠀She sure is awfully humbling.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Not a moment after Auggie has retreated to her desk, Thorn feels a nudge against his arm.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I'm sorry if we were hard on you just then," mumbles Jay, looking at his empty pad of refill for the most part. "Lately, shit's just been... weird. And we need to stick together, you know?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀There's an edge to his voice now; a sadness. Suddenly all of the arriving students and their noise sounds more like inaudible muffles in the sea.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn frowns. "Yeah... Yeah, we really do."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I know I'm probably just strung up, but... with Will missing, and no word of where he is or could be? I don't know what to think about this town anymore. I've lived here my whole life, and during these damned seventeen years, nothing like this has happened before."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Like what? A disappearance?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Something like that." He blows out a long, deep breath. "I went over to Jonathan's this morning, to see how he and his mom are doing."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"He called me."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"He did? That's good..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀The way he says that entails he has no idea why Jonathan had asked him for Thorn's number, only that he'd needed it—and when you needed something, Jay was the friend you went to for results.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I can tell Jon's trying to be strong about Will and everything," continues Jay, "but as you've probably guessed, Joyce is panicked. Shit's a hurricane for them. Can't imagine what that must be like..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn can only nod. He wishes he could say something; perhaps everything he's wanted to say about Will since he first found out about his disappearance a few nights ago when Mike, Dustin, and Lucas came barreling into his workplace, desperate to find their friend as much as Jonathan and Joyce must be to find their brother and son now. But Thorn can't speak about. Not now. Everyone else, they grew up here. As an outsider, it just doesn't feel like his place yet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I think you should visit Joyce."

⠀⠀⠀⠀This comes from Jay again. He's looking directly at Thorn with a surprisingly level expression. But he's being genuine here. Even pleading.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Maybe..." Thorn's sighs, his shoulders sinking. "I mean, it has been a while since I last saw her. But I just... What if I upset her somehow?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"How could you? She's fond of you."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Jonathan isn't."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Don't start with that crap again. I think you two could be really great friends. If either one of you actually tried." Jay glances down at the open notebook on Thorn's desk, his bemused expression lifting a fraction. "Working on more poetry, are we?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn presses his mouth into a thin line and immediately covers the page of his writing with an arm. "It's old stuff. Practically word vomit."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Even your worst is usually good."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Not anymore it isn't.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Just then, there comes a blunt prick of an object behind Thorn's neck. He flinches at the touch, but turns around in his seat nonetheless.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He expects it to be Auggie, but it's Jenny, having used her pen to poke him. Her eyes are on him, but she says nothing; merely points that same pen of hers in the direction of the back of the class, whereupon Thorn sees, and understands. Because there, timidly waving at him from the open doorway, stands Nancy Wheeler—looking kind of lost, might he add.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He watches as she steps further out into the hallway, signaling with another wave for him to follow. Even as Thorn leans over to whisper to Jay, he finds that he can't take his eyes away from her. "I'll uh... be right back."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You what now?" Jay sounds flabbergasted, but Thorn can't see him anymore—he's already up and out of his chair, circling around desks and classmates in seats. Before he makes it to the door, Jay jokingly calls out one final proclamation of, "Ditcher!" from halfway across the room, which makes Thorn smile.

⠀⠀⠀⠀He follows Nancy out into the hallway, into the echo of teenage voices swiftly fading as they disappear into more classrooms. Soon, only Thorn, Nancy, and a few other students rummaging through lockers or stalling for time remain, and for the most part, it's quiet. The final bell for first period hasn't sounded yet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn presses his back up against the nearest wall, absently rubbing at his long-since-scarred knuckles. Nancy is standing a few feet in front him, looking just as nervous as Thorn feels. For a fleeting moment he wonders if she's here to talk to him about last night at Harrington's. Had he said something wrong? Had something happened after he took Regan home? The theoretical questions hit him all at once in a flurry of anxiety.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"What's up?" he finally manages to ask. Best not overwhelm himself without actually hearing her out.

⠀⠀⠀⠀In past conversations with him, Nancy usually radiated confidence, and spoke with a level of assuredness that could make even the most foolish believe in anything. So, when Nancy hesitates to find her voice this time, Thorn more than notices. Something akin to worry dances along his gut like keys to a harpsichord. Is something more serious going on here? The thought alone makes his stoic expression deepen into a frown.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Have you seen Barb this morning?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn blinks. "Barb? No, I don't..." He shakes his head. "I was late to school, so..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy, protectively wrapping her arms around herself, doesn't stop gnawing on her bottom lip until she says, "I see... Sorry."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You're apologising?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"I pulled you from class."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Nancy..." He swallows. "Is something—?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀A chorus of laughter interrupts him as a pair of rowdy girls, arm in arm, amble along the hallway behind Nancy. Speaking to each other in hushed whispers as if in their own language, they glare right at Nancy and snicker into their hands with unfriendly, even maliciously set eyes. Nancy, barely glancing over her shoulder, visibly shrivels, and remains stiff as a board until the duo disappears.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn doesn't realise he's been clenching his fists until Nancy shoots him an apologetic look—as if this was somehow her fault. He knows all too well what it feels like to be on the receiving end of those stares. So why'd they do it to Nancy, of all people? Not that it should matter. If it has anything to do with her newfound relationship with Steve, that's their business, and their's alone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Jesus, that was—" Thorn tries to say, reworking levelheadedness into his tone. "I don't know what that was, but I'm really sorry you had to experience that."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy blows out a breath. "Well, this is awkward. Now you're the one apologising to me."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"People can be such—" How does he say this without making a bad impression? "Well... jerks. They can be jerks."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Yeah." Despite her hurt, one corner of her mouth lifts the tiniest fraction. "Not you, though... That's how I know those rumours about you are bull."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Some rumours can be true."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"How do you take your coffee?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Black." Only because no one at home ever remembers to buy milk...

⠀⠀⠀⠀"See? And yet, I heard you don't drink coffee, because all New Yorkers apparently hate the taste of the coffee they serve in other States."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn raises a brow. "You made that up."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Or is that just another rumour...?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀A stall in the conversation happens as they stand looking at each other, trying not to laugh. Nancy breaks formation first, her cheeks flushed red from effort, and Thorn immediately follows with a wheeze of a laugh that hurts his throat on the way out. He can't remember the last time he felt this... easy, around someone. Someone that wasn't Jay, or Auggie, or even Barb.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Speaking of...

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Really, though," starts Thorn, allowing himself to further relax against the wall with crossed arms and a lingering half-smile, "this thing about Barb..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh, um." Nancy clears her throat, and fixes her stance. "I haven't seen or heard from her this morning, so I thought... I don't know—she might have been running late? I know she has first period with you today, but,"—her gaze slips toward the open door of Thorn's classroom—"it doesn't look like she's here, either."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Tragically, this is met with another frown from Thorn. By now, Barb should be seated next to Beth H., who is still chewing on her breakfast pancake, looking utterly bored and unfulfilled with life. Beth doesn't even seem to notice that her desk neighbour is absent today. Thorn, however, eyes that empty desk and sees void.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Maybe she's taking a sick day?" Thorn suggests, more for Nancy's sake than as any real answer. It's all he can do to assume right now.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy purses her lips together, seeming to think things over in her head."Barb's had sick days before, but she's always insisted on coming to school. So for her to not come for the first time ever? It just isn't... I don't know. I've got this weird feeling."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"A feeling? Like..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Like... absence. And I don't mean that literally, or because she isn't at school. It's... ugh." She removes one arm from around herself to rub at her temple. "I can't explain it. I'm not too great with words sometimes—that's your era of expertise."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Oh?" gapes Thorn, trying not to show he's both flattered and surprised that she knows he likes literature. "Well, um... have you called Barb's mom to see if she's still home?" Thorn pointedly says. He almost misses it, but the frown Nancy pulls is unmistakable; a small but doubtful little thing, pretty even still.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"God, I really want to. I'm probably overthinking it, but I don't want to call her mom and freak her out when all it could be is Barb running late." She really is nervous about this, isn't she? Thorn can tell by the way she's tapping her foot and biting her lip again. "If she doesn't show up later, though, I'm definitely calling."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Good idea." He isn't really thinking when he says this next part—it just sort of comes out. "Er, I know the first game of basketball season kicks off this afternoon, and I'm always there to cheer Jay on... But if you're up for it, I can give you a ride over to Barb's place after school before heading back? I'm kind of invested myself now."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Concerned, more like—though for Nancy's own sanity, maybe it's best be don't say that. After all, Barbara Holland is his friend, too.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"You'd... really do that?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Of course," assures Thorn. "It's really no problem." Suddenly worried he sounds a little too forward, he clears his throat, crosses his arms, and tries to recover by adding, "I–I mean, you know, only if you want to."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy's eyes visibly widen, somewhere between surprised and relieved. "Y–Yeah! I mean,"—a tiny laugh through her nose—"that would be great... Thanks."

⠀⠀⠀⠀When Thorn opens his mouth to respond, there comes a shrill ringing sound, and he almost believes it's his doing until he remembers the school bell. Shoot. Thorn winces, already pushing himself away from his place against the wall. Nancy, too, straightens up and gives him a polite, practised smile.

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Apparently that means we're supposed to get to class," jokes Thorn, exuding sarcasm. "But that might just be another rumour."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy playfully rolls her eyes. "Oh really? I had no idea. I'll have to remember that one."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Thorn, not-so eager to leave yet, but equally unwilling to be the cause for straight-A student Nancy Wheeler's lateness, thinks about making his leave, but tenses. Recollection swells in his mind; once foggy, but clearer to him now, like wiping away the condensation on a window after rain. He glowers a bit.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy must notice, because she prods him with a finger, and gently asks, "Are you okay?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀Under her analytic, kindly stare, he feels suddenly smaller than her, despite being taller. "Yeah," he lies. He can only hope she doesn't see right through him. "I was just..." Thinking about Will. And now Barb. "I should..."

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Get to class. Oh—!" Her eyes go wide like even she'd forgotten where she was supposed to be. Even now, in her panic, she makes the fluorescent-white lights of the hallway she stands under look and feel warm, like sunlight. "Crap. We'll talk later, okay?"

⠀⠀⠀⠀"Sure thing" When his voice wavers, he does his best to hide it behind a fake cough. "Later, Nance."

⠀⠀⠀⠀Nancy, walking away, freezes mid-step at her nickname. She's as still as she had been last night, when Thorn had found her sitting on the stairs at Steve's house, wrapped in her damp striped towel. Immediately, Thorn once again worries he has made a mistake. It wouldn't be the first he's so gloriously screwed up.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Instead, Nancy just... smiles at him. Sweetly; briefly, over her shoulder, before continuing on down the hallway to her class. Thorn swallows hard, feeling his shoulders sink as though his embarrassment were this physical, irksome thing weighing him down.

⠀⠀⠀⠀A moment later, Thorn is at his classroom door, watching the shape of Nancy disappear into another room farther down the hall. Thorn wonders if she's aware of that—aware of how she can inexplicably leave him staring long after she is gone.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Today is going to be one hell of a long day.

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( ミ☆ ) A/N.
my favourite character trope is kind loser who has zero clue of the pull they have on everyone

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Publishing Dates:
[ Original: March 4th, 2017 ]
[ Rewrite: May, 2024 ]