Night Vale ▷ Steve Harrington

xviii. free pass

SOMETIME THAT NIGHT, A SWEEPING LAYER OF FOG HAD ROLLED INTO HAWKINS AND SMOOTHED ITSELF OVER TOWN. Even now, four hours past, Scout had trouble seeing past the mist. Of course, his inability to see further than several feet in front of him could have easily been because of the tears still welling in his eyes or whatever aftereffects of alcohol he wasn’t all that familiar with, but he allowed Letitia to help him up and guide him out of the house as slowly as both of them could manage, especially since the brown-skinned girl herself wasn’t much better. 

It was strange, though. He’d never seen her drink before, and yet here she was, holding her alcohol far better than he ever would have expected like she did it all the time. 

“Jesus, you’re heavier than you look,” she grunted as they eased their way down the stairs. His legs felt like jello, as did the rest of his body after the good cry he’d had back upstairs in the bathroom, and didn’t seem like they wanted to support anything past standing up — a suspicion only confirmed as the two tried to make their way through the house, and something Letitia’s muttering under her breath supported, too. 

To his surprise, there were still a few lone party stragglers lingering around the house. One couple in particular was still going strong on the landing and nearly seemed bent on going down then and there —  probably why the friends groaned and continued their descent rather than stopping for a break like their wordless agreement. As for the ground floor, it may have been virtually empty — you never knew —  but the mess its guests had made was certainly indicative of what had happened; from red plastic cups lay slewn over every available surface —  and especially the not-so-available ones, which is just as disgusting —  to several empty pizza boxes dumped unceremoniously on the floor. A few were in the kitchen, Scout noticed as they made their way past to the front door — which seemed helpful at first glance, but could only have been deemed as something of an accident, what with the whole other layer of chaos going on there. He’s glad he’s not the one who has to clean up this mess. 

But the person who does? He’s nowhere to be found. Steve Harrington seemed to have a knack for slipping away and hiding, because for all the time it took for them to finally get to the damn front door, Scout hadn’t spotted a single indication of him; nowhere. Not even a word upstairs, which was odd, because he was pretty sure he’d heard the running footsteps take off somewhere in that direction. If he was still up there, well… The Harrington boy must have some pretty good experience making himself scarce, not wanting to be found. 

“Stop it,” Letitia said suddenly, and he had to turn to hear to see what she meant. Her eyes, tired as they may be, were stern, and they bore into him as though she knew exactly what he was thinking. “I know what you’re thinking; it’s a good thing he’s not here, okay? Wherever he is, he’s probably cowering because he reacted so badly. I’ve seen how you two have looked at each other —  and Steve would be stupid not to see that too. Okay?” 

“I don't want to see him,” he grumbled, but even he could tell how bad of a lie it was. “He —  he probably doesn’t ever wanna see me again, Tisha. What’s it matter how I feel?” 

“It matters a lot, actually? I thought you two were gonna, you know. Figure out all this Night Vale business together. Partners in crime type shit, right? You can’t do that if one of you is hungover and sulking and the other’s cowering and drunk.” 

“You think he’d get drunk ‘cause of… what happened?” 

Letitia didn’t answer; she didn’t need to. Her sigh was all that Scout needed, though part of him took a bit of consolation in the obvious gloom it carried. Perhaps if this was what was needed to bring the two of them back together… Well. It would have been something if he could have both of them; a best friend and a best… something. He wasn’t even sure what it could’ve been. But now that he knew, knew for sure that it was never going to happen — there was someone else who cared about him the way he did them. And that someone was right by his side.