the drummer and the runaway- gareth/male reader

cold air and smoke

The school day had just ended and Gareth had nothing to do. Usually he hung out with his bandmates but they didn't have practice today, so he was on his own. Gareth also didn't have the energy to deal with his dad today either, not that he really acknowledged his existence. Hell, he could create a cult and harbor them in his room without his dad sparing a single glance. So that's why when he got home he ditched his backpack in his room, grabbed his Walkman, and fled on his bike. 

There was something about biking around in the cold, winter air that made Gareth feel free. The way his lungs burned, how he could go wherever he wanted, and that there was no one to tell him what a loser he was. He was headed to Lake Jordan, Iron Maiden blaring in his ears and wind blowing in his face. That's where he always liked to go, not a lot of people–especially this time of year– and he could just escape. 

When Gareth got there, he finally laid down his bike and went to go closer to the lake's shoreline when he saw someone sitting on a lot next to the lake. A guy that only had on a torn up varsity jacket, and who definitely wasn't from here.  Pulling down his headphones and fidgeting with his cold hands, curiosity got the better of him and Gareth went over to see who the hell that was. 

- - -

By now it was probably somewhere close to four now and you've been out in the cold for hours. You were freezing your ass off, but the view at some lake you found was pretty nice. Right now though you were smoking a cigarette, lost in your thoughts. That was until you heard someone walking up behind you, a wave of panic surfing through you. Flinching back, you look at whoever was sneaking up to you and see it was just some boy. He had curly hair, was tallish, and was dressed in layers of long sleeves, a leather jacket, and a flannel vest. The stranger looked around your age too–your actual age, not eighteen. And he looked pretty hot–  Nope. Not going there. Absolutely not thinking gay thoughts in the goddammit Midwest. 

It was the boy who broke their quick silence first. "Who are you?" His words came out rough like you'd personally owned him by being there. For a second, you hesitated, not sure what to tell him. But that quickly passed when you stood up, taking the cigarette out of your mouth, and went into your well practiced persona.  

"Name's Y/N Wilson, what's it to you?" you said with ease as if you hadn't been lying to his face, which at this point you really weren't. That was who you were nowadays. In response the stranger's face scrunched up in disdain, as if that wasn't the answer he was looking for. 

"You're not from 'round here," he pointed out. "The hell are you doing in Hawkins?" his tone was now as accusatory as it was confused. Damn, nobody liked it here, did they? Taking back into the log you were sitting on, you place the smoke back in your mouth and take a long drag. That was the winning question, wasn't it? Why were you, out of all places, here?

"Just passing through, tryna find a place to survive. Live life." And for some reason the sentence makes the stranger let off a noise that sounded like a mix of a scoff and a chuckle. Well what the fuck was that supposed to mean. Had you not only landed yourself in Indiana, but some stupid murder town? You could just move on from Hawkins. Scratch that, you should, but there was something about how you couldn't stop thinking about this mystery town where people apparently can't survive in. But that last part was beside the point. 

"So," you started, curious about this stranger. "Who are you exactly, Mr. I Interrogate Random People I've Never Met?" And the question made him all prickly and standoffish. Well, just more so. You noticed he tended to me with his hands and rings a lot. Cu–  Before your mind could finish the thought that totally wasn't going to call him cute, the stranger broke off the thought. 

"Gareth," he stated as he crossed his arms and stood up straighter. "Happy?" When he spoke, he sounded pissed off but also equally as nervous. So after a beat of awkward silence you interrupted. "Dude, you know I'm not gonna like- murder you. Right?" Your tone was joking but there was the slightest bit of seriousness in there as well. 

It seemed to work to lighten the mood as Gareth smirked and let off a small chuckle. "Yeah, whatever," and suddenly the tension is broken and leaves the both of you a little lighter than you were a few seconds ago. Chewing on your lip, you reach into your pocket and grab your carton of Marlboro Lights and offer him a cig while you grab a new one as your previous had already burned down. He accepted and hunched over on the log with you. Each breath you took, you blew out mixes of smoke and condensation.

"What are you really doing here, Y/N?" he asked, turning his body towards you. His face scrunched up again like before and he looked at you like he could see right through your facade.

Suddenly, you felt vulnerable, like you were completely exposed in a matter of seconds. How were you supposed to be on the run and stay hidden when a complete stranger could see your lies?

"Honestly?" He nods. You stand up and go closer to the lake's shore. Putting your cigarette back into your mouth and picking up a rock and inspecting it, your gaze travels behind you back to Gareth. "I'm running," you tell him out of the corner of your mouth. Throwing the rock out into the lake, you watch it skip and flashes of memories rush through your mind. 

When you turn back to Gareth, he's already put out the smoke and is now rubbing his hands together. This time though it looked more like an attempt to not freeze to death than being fidgety. His eyes are still trained on you, curiosity seeping through his skin. 

Before he can ask for you to elaborate, you beat him to it. "I got some shit I don't wanna deal with back home, alright?" And with that you weren't willing to give anymore information to the stranger, and he didn't seem to push. 

When your cig burned down, you looked up to the sky and it seemed the sun was starting to fall as well. It was still pretty bright out, but you've already been out so long. 

Sticking your hands into your pockets, you walk over to where Gareth is still sitting. "Nice meeting you, but I'm gonna head out," and with that his expression fluttered a bit. It almost looked like a flash of disappointment for a second. Almost. 

He stood up too and you were suddenly aware of how close you got to him when he was still sitting; your faces were merely inches apart. "I should get going too, at this rate I'm gonna end up an ice cube before I even get home." The remark starles a laugh out of you, and instantaneously the both of you are broken out into grins. 

You are the first to walk away and say your goodbyes. As you walk away guilt settles in your chest. Who were you to lie to someone like that so easily? What did he do to be practically used for a quick laugh? Why were you already missing him when you had only just gotten out of his sightline? 

You needed to get yourself together. Because these things never work out well for you.