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________ c h a p t e r f o u r t y - f o u r
"I... I just don't think they've thought this through," Will paces the room, tossing the ball at the wall for the fiftieth time. "If this goes on for a month, or months, and people can't get a hold of us, they're gonna totally freak out."
Mike barely listens, eyes trained on the wall connecting his room to the guest room, where Bianca was staying.
He'd expected her to come out and join them hours ago, but still, she was in there, doing God knows what.
"Meanwhile, my mom's probably having a panic attack. And what about Hawkins? That lady's supposed to keep it "contained." Like you can contain any of this without El. I mean-" he finally stops bouncing the ball, recognizing Mike's solemn expression.
"Yeah."
"Staring at the door won't make her walk through it."
"Has she even come out for breakfast?" Mike frowns.
"She got cereal this morning, but she took it back to the room," Will sits down.
"She thinks we hate her?" he furrows his eyebrows.
"That's what she said. Honestly, I'm not all that surprised. I mean, look at how you've been acting towards her."
"I don't know, it's like everytime I talk to her, I just say the wrong thing. And-And I know it's the wrong thing, it's just the right thing never comes out."
"She's your best friend, Mike. I know the breakup made things a little awkward, but she's still the same Bianca. You know her better than anyone else."
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, I've been such a self-pitying asshole lately. Bianca's not the only one I've been a bad friend to."
"Thanks Mike," he grins, meeting his eyes. "But I get it. You've had a lot going on."
"Still. I'm sorry."
"Make sure you tell her that," he points to the door, his smile dropping as soon as Mike starts to stand.
The tall boy quickly makes his way to Bianca's room, knocking softly as he runs over what he wanted to say a million times.
She opens the door with an expressionless face, the bags under her eyes giving confirmation to his concerns.
It was clear she'd been up for some time, having gotten dressed and tying half of her hair back.
"Hey," he awkwardly tucks his hands in his pockets.
"Hey," she looks around, face slowly contorting into confusion. "Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, no, yeah," he stammers. "I just wanted to talk."
"Oh," her eyebrows furrow, and she opens the door wider. "Come in."
