Never going Back ⋆ Stranger Things

5. The Abduction of Oz Reynolds

Content warning; suicidal thoughts, homophobic slurs.

Saturday, March 22, 1986.

Oz was convinced that somewhere between last night and that morning, he'd effectively lost his mind. That was the only reason he could think of as to why any of this was happening. That was the only logical explanation he could give as to why he'd just hallucinated the voice of his dead best friend coming to murder him in the back room of Family Video. It didn't quite explain why he was pretty sure his coworkers knew far more than they let on, but that really was a problem for another time. At the moment, he had far more pressing matters to attend to.

He wasn't sure where to go.

Somewhere in the fear and confusion, Oz had run about halfway through town before realizing that he had no idea where he was going. It wasn't until he reached the end of Cornwallis, near the edge of the woods, that Oz seemed to run out of steam. He came to a stuttering halt in the middle of the road, doubling over and bracing his hands on his knees. He began dry-heaving again, trying his very best to not throw up all over his own shoes.

This was fucked. It was all so incredibly fucked. Every explanation Oz could come up with was worse than the one before—he was poisoned, had a psychotic break, or most likely this was some sort of divine punishment—and it did nothing but worsen his already awful mood.

It also didn't offer him any actual answers.

"Oz." The voice still echoed in his head. It was Tyler's voice, clear as anything, but it also wasn't. It sounded mangled, as if spoken through a garbage disposal.

That solidified it for Oz, though. It had to be some sort of punishment from a higher power that was being inflicted on him. How else could he hear the voice of someone who had been dead for almost four years?

On top of all of that, Steve and Robin knew. They'd said it right to his face. If they knew, then that had to mean that they knew about Tyler, and they knew about that night. They knew about the one thing that people were never allowed to know about.

Oz felt his breathing speed up again, quickly leaning back on his knees while trying to take deeper breaths. He was crying—again? Still? He wasn't sure—as he heaved out broken breaths.

Suddenly he became aware of just how visible he was, all but standing in the middle of a road lined with houses, filled with families, any of whom could look out the window at any moment and see Oz having a meltdown. With some difficulty he picked himself up and headed for the treeline. He figured disappearing into the woods was as good a choice as any.

The story of Oz and Tyler was a complicated one—far too complicated for Oz to correctly put into words. They had been friends, at one point, until Oz ruined it. Like he ruined everything.

He was incapable of admitting it, even back then, but Oz had been in love with Tyler. He'd been a coward about it. Still was. Oz often thought he could have made a difference just by admitting it out loud, but he'd been too scared. He'd stayed quiet, and it had made all the difference.

Now, Tyler was dead.

Tyler had been dead since halfway through freshman year, when he'd ran out of Oz's house. Not a day went by that Oz didn't see it play out behind closed eyelids. The sight of Tyler's car crushed into nothing, his body lying lifeless on the asphalt, the bright flashing lights of an ambulance that arrived far too late.

Looking around, Oz realized that he'd effectively gotten himself lost. He was rather certain that he'd passed the exact same tipped-over tree three times now, but he didn't know where he'd gone before the tree. That was the shit part of focusing on crying instead of his surroundings.