Raymond Park gets an unexpected houseguest. A fugitive, at that.
"I wanna stab Harrington in the throat even more than you do, but how about you lay off of killing under my roof, huh?"
Ray has always found Hawkins creepy. He blames it on his own ima...
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(the massacre at hawkins lab)
NOVEMBER, 1983
｡･:*˚:✧｡RAYMOND'S SKIN IS prickly with an odd feeling that something's completely wrong. He connects it to his untied shoelaces that he really needs to tie soon so he doesn't forget to do it and trips in front of everyone. He swings his legs back and forth, making sure not to hit the metal of Steve's car, but not showing that he pays attention to it in the first place. There's a cigarette in between his lips that he wastes five minutes trying to light before he finally succeeds.
"Wanna help out a little, Ray?"
He looks up at Carol, who's perched on top of a pile of boxes, with a girl — Brenda, Raymond thinks — by her side. The two are wearing matching smiles.
"No," Raymond confesses. His eyes flicker to Steve, who's standing beside Tommy, arms crossed over his chest, lips bitten raw in restlessness and anxiety.
Steve hasn't spoken to him since last night. Raymond woke up to the sound of Steve's engine running and found his car waiting in front of his house. He didn't even say a word when he opened the door and sat down next to him, only speaking up when his house was out of sight. "Where are we going?"
"The movies."
The movies. It was that simple. And it's just as simple now, with Nancy Wheeler's name decorating the entrance to the theatre in bright red letters, crooked and shaky, but legible, accompanied by the most disgusting little comments and remarks in Tommy's typical style.
The writing was already there when Raymond arrived. Tommy, Branda — shit, or was it Nicole? — and Carol were behind the building, finishing up their next art project. Messy, not even that creative, so fucking lame, but enough for Raymond's stomach to fucking drop. Ray Park sucks Hellfire cock.
"Man, what the fuck did you do?" Steve exclaimed then, walking up to Tommy before Raymond could. "I told you—"
"I couldn't resist!" Tommy defended himself, laughing. The girls were giggling next to him. "Ray doesn't mind it! Tell him, Ray."
He was looking at Raymond, waiting for an answer. Raymond couldn't give him one. He turned on his heel, headed back to the car, but a hand curled around his wrist to stop him from opening the door. "Ray, wait."
Raymond laughed in Steve's face. "Right. Do you even hear yourself?"
"Just stay, please, I didn't know he was— I'll- I'll make him paint over it." Steve looked around, almost helplessly. "Here, I'll pay for it. He'll fix it, just— just stay."
"Are you really letting them do this?" he asked, voice low enough for the others not to hear. "To us? Steve, they're ruining you. You're not you, you're— you're turning into Tommy bloody Hogan!" he hissed out and Steve almost winced at the words, lowering his head, almost in shame.
