Night Vale ▷ Steve Harrington

xii. the return

"𝐒𝐎."

Scout breathed a hesitant sigh, the air puffing out from the slim space between his lips, out into the frigid air in front of him. The little cloud mere inches from his face hovered in place for a few moments, before a sharp gust of wind — far colder, he noticed, then it had been before — swept the little puff of air away, blending in with the frigid weather around them. Even in the warmest of clothing — of which he was glad he had worn, pulling his the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands in a small effort to keep them warm — the coldest of winters and the coldest of hearts turns from master to servant; seeping through any layer of cloth to drain the soul.

He knew he should say something, acknowledge Steve in some way at the very least, but he can't make himself open his mouth to do it. Perhaps he was tongue tied, or just not in the mood to speak, but either way, Scout pressed his lips together, silent, staring ahead of them at the same weathered sign he had seen once before — the only exception is that this time, their party is down a member.

And their presence was sorely missed — at least, for the blond, who was yet to keep his thoughts from spiralling back towards their interaction at her house earlier that day. Letitia, raising her voice, her implication. He wanted to wish she were here, getting to the bottom of things together, but part of him whispers that he doesn't get to wish that. No, instead he was stuck simply wishing well for her presence. It wasn't bad, not at all, but it was something that gnaws at him for longer than it should be — wishing, hoping, that they would be able to go back to the little duo they used to be. Back to normal.

Scout had gone to long without speaking, and he could tell even without turning his head that Steve is about to comment on it — something stupid, probably — when he decides to cut him off, right when the Harrington boy's mouth had open and shut without another word, releasing the same puff of air paralleling his own.

"So," he repeated. His gaze fell down to the small pack at their feet. It had been in Steve's car when he first noticed it, also noticing how he had no idea what was in it, zippers zipped and shut tight. It was not unlike his own fanny pack — which, he might add, was still not in his possession. He wondered how long it would be until he got it back.

The town of Night Vale stood below them like they were kings surveying their kingdom. In an unspoken agreement, Steve had maneuvered his car as carefully into the deep forest thicket as possible, thankful for its darker red hue that somewhat disguised it from any eyes that might catch sight of it from the road. Now, they were standing on a small hump of a hill only a block or so away from the outskirts of houses, silent and contemplating, neither uttering a word — until the senior's voice cut through the air like a sword slicing at its opponent, except devoid of any menace or teasing that his words usually contained.

"Do we even have a plan?" he asked hesitantly, as if he wasn't the one who suggested they come over here in the first place. "Shouldn't we like... come up with something?"

Be my guest, Scout wanted to wisecrack, but bit his tongue instead, only nodding on the outside and grumbling to himself on the inside. Really, they should have come up with something long before they even arrived, but such was no communication when neither parties said a word to one another the entire drive. It may have given him time to think about other things — Letitia, the conversation between him and the Harrington boy that now seemed like an entirety ago but stuck out in his mind like a sore thumb all the same — but that also meant that whatever they thought they were going to do in Night Vale was utterly useless. What did they expect? To simply waltz in and ask around about a woman who might not even live there anymore? Yeah, right.

Noticing his doubt, Steve nodded his head in the blond's direction. "Hey," he said, catching Scout's attention. Then, tentatively, "You okay?"

And despite the ground probably being frozen — and would therefore be hell on his ass if he sat down —and the fact he's only wearing a pair of jeans that would no doubt do shit against the rock solid earth, Scout plops down on the ground, attempting to kick up some dirt or grass in the process, but only succeeding in nearly sending himself flying down the hill. He groaned, now on the ground, pulling his legs underneath him and fiddling with a loose string on his sleeve.