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Max didn’t wake up.
Everybody moved on whilst Lucas Sinclair stayed frozen in time; sitting in a dingy hospital room with the smell of death lingering in the air as he replayed March 27th on a loop.
It was a Thursday. And he remembered thinking to himself, during the aftermath– when the wounds were still too fresh and the shock was tethered to his bones, that a Thursday had no right to be such an earth-shattering day. Maybe a Friday, definitely a Saturday, possibly a Sunday solely for the irony, but a Thursday? It was a fucking joke. A pathetic joke that fell flat, causing broken hearts instead of laughs.
And all Lucas could do was scream at the sky that looked more red than blue these days and remember. Remember the pain. Remember the hurt. Remember the distinct sound of bones cracking. Remember the vivid sight of blood trickling down her eyes. Remember the feeling of his arms wrapping around her as she hit the ground. Remember the sobs that he choked on with each plea she let out, begging not to be taken by death. Remember. Remember. Remember.
Time didn’t stop to mourn with him. Instead, it went on– treacherous and slow, leaving Lucas right where it left him; stuck staring at a lifeless body and living the worst moment of his life over and over and over again.
It took all but a second to learn that time was no friend to him because when March faded into April and April was harder to bear than March, Lucas lost himself in the grief. Reflecting on what he could’ve done differently, he had no other option than to let the heaviness in his chest drag him to the darkness. And when April turned to May, the sadness was buried by anger and Lucas became a different person entirely. With his jaw clenched and his hands fisted at his sides, he hated himself in a way he never thought he would. He even went as far as blaming himself for what happened to her. It was his fault–
It was all his fault.
Then came June and the anger wrapped around Lucas’ heart like barbed wire simmered down and became something much worse: defeat. For the first time in his life, he was left to feel nothing. The emptiness swallowed him whole and that same force that had taken Max– something like death but not as kind– had taken him too. And in that brief moment of acceptance when he knew he’d never be the same, El walked through the door.
-
It started like this:
El’s hands were folded behind her back and nervously, she kept shifting from one foot to the other. She tried her hand at a smile but came up short at the sight of Max. And Lucas understood. It was hard to find anything to smile about anymore, especially in the vicinity of the person who once made them smile the most.
After a long pause, she whispered, “Hi.”
“Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You said that already,” Lucas pointed out. It wasn’t a critique, simply a reminder because he’d found himself repeating sentences more often than not too.
“It is hard for me,” El admitted, her eyes glued to the floor. She shook her head to herself and swallowed around the lump in her throat. “To see her but to not feel her– it hurts. And I have been trying– But I just– I just– I do not know what to–”
“I know.”
Because he did. He knew all too well. And words would simply never do it justice.
El's shoulders sagged as she let out a sigh of relief. Lucas gestured to the chair next to him and sent her a sad smile when she joined him. It wasn’t unusual for members of the party to stop by but he could tell this was different. Where the others would stop by momentarily, Lucas knew she was here to stay.
And he was thankful not to be alone with the silence anymore.
“Were you,” El halted her words and motioned towards the book resting in his lap, “reading to her?”
“Yeah, I’ve been reading to her every day. She’s gotta be tired of The Tailsman by now. I don’t even have to look at the words anymore to know how the sentence ends.”
El chuckled and scooted her chair closer to his whether she realized it or not. “Can I?” she asked, bashful and quiet.
Lucas nodded quickly, handing her the book. She wasted no time in opening it up to the page he had bookmarked and without another exchange, she began reading to Max and him softly. Her voice didn’t change once throughout the chapter to fit the fantasy feel and she went over her words slowly and carefully to make sure she got them right, but he found that he didn’t mind any of it. In fact, sitting here in his hurt with her as she read was the most content he felt in a long while.
Soon enough, Lucas’ eyelids grew heavy, and he shut them until her voice guided him into a deep sleep.
-
Lucas didn’t expect to see her in the days that followed.
Charging into the room without a word, El threw herself in the same uncomfortable hospital chair she sat in the day prior and pulled her legs up to her chest. Noticeably, she hid her face from him and avoided a greeting.
“Is it okay if I keep reading?” he questioned gently.
El nodded before resting her head on her knees. He knew better than to pry and force her to share what had her so upset. So, instead, Lucas finished the last chapter of The Tailsman. If her sniffles got louder as he went, well, he failed to mention it.
After all, he had a feeling she’d do the same for him.
-
El practically skipped into the room with a grin. It was a complete 180 from the day before but a welcomed one nonetheless.
She dramatically waved a comic book back and forth and Lucas couldn’t quite make out which one it was until she dropped it in his lap. Wonder Woman. Immediately, he hummed in approval, prompting the grin on her face to widen.
“You said she was tired of The Tailsman,” said El, light, breezy, and most importantly, joyful. It was all the things El should sound like, Lucas noted to himself, only to be cut off midthought by said girl shoving her chair into his. She plopped down right beside him until their shoulders were nearly glued together while she happily went on, ”Say hello to Diana.”
Lucas cracked a small smile.
-
“You want some?” El held up the other half of her sandwich, offering it to him, but Lucas shook his head with a wave of his hand.
“I already ate,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t question him further.
In truth, he hadn’t, but he was okay. As long as he was sitting here with El and Max, he’d be fine. Or at least he thought he’d be.
-
On one rainy day in July, right in the heat of the storm, when the drops violently pelted down against the window, El intently watched the downpour all while fiddling with her fingers, seemingly in deep thought like she itched to talk to him about something. “Mike,” she said suddenly, pausing briefly to gather the right words, “Mike– he uh– he said in one of his letters that you were taken in by the dark side.”
Lucas perked up, snorting at the concern written on her face. “I joined the basketball team.”
Her brows furrowed. “Basketball?”
“It’s a game,” he clarified, hoping to put her worries at ease. “You shoot a ball into a basket– hope it goes in– and try to keep the opposing team from doing the same. It’s actually pretty fun. You’d like it.”
El accepted his explanation with a nod, allowing her lips to quirk up into a smile, and Lucas could’ve sworn a piece of his soul was restored because of it. “Oh. Okay. Maybe you can teach me sometime?” she offered.
“Totally,” he vowed, holding out a pinkie. El complied and wrapped hers around his, giddy and light. “We’ll even rope Dustin and Steve in so we can have teams.”
“I want Steve.”
Lucas playfully scoffed with a shake of his head. “No way is that fair.”
El crossed her arms over her chest in defiance. She’d always been like that which was something Lucas noticed way back when he first met her. He only ever minded when he was a naive kid, helplessly searching for his missing best friend. Now, as he eyed her, he was more fond than anything else.
“Why is it not fair?” she pressed.
“Because I know you,” he reminded her. His face softened at the realization. He knew her. She might’ve been the one member of the party he talked to the least but… but he knew her and she was his friend above all else.
“And,” Lucas added, waving an accusing finger at her, “on top of you having Steve who’s extremely athletic, you have your powers.”
She gasped, placing a hand on her chest, feigning offense and biting back a knowing smirk. “I would not cheat!” she lied, playing up the innocent act that he saw right through.
“Well, I’m warning you now, I’m not like Dustin, Steve, or Mike. I’ve always known to check for fresh blood.” And almost instantly, they fell into laughter, leaning into each other’s space, and inhaling one another’s breath.
If only a minute ago he felt a piece of his soul restored then this was something else entirely. This felt like something he could only experience before Will went missing, before monsters lurked around every corner, before the ground opened up and everything fell apart, before…. before Max was in a coma that she might not wake up from.
Shit. Max hadn’t woken up and he was sitting here, planning a basketball game and laughing. How could he even allow himself this? How? This was his fault. Max wasn’t able to join in on this very conversation because he failed to save her. He didn’t deserve the comfort El provided and he certainly didn’t deserve to feel restored, not when it was him awake and Max who wasn’t. Overwhelmed with guilt, the tears of laughter that began to form in his eyes swiftly turned to tears of sorrow.
Grief was a funny thing, he learned. Once it became you, you fail to realize it’s there. It’s only when you’re allowed a glimpse of happiness– a glimpse of hope that it crashes into you like a train, running over what could’ve been and presenting to you what actually was. Lucas felt like he couldn’t breathe. The weight of grief was too much to carry on his own.
Abruptly, El’s laughs calmed and she gaped at him in utter horror as his laughter turned into a choked sob. She quickly reached forward to rest a hand on his shoulder but Lucas quickly pushed it away gently and stood from his chair.
“Lucas,” she said, voice cracking.
“Don’t,” he demanded. “Please, El, Just don’t.” His shoulders shook with each wail that pulled itself from his body. The strength he suddenly lacked had him toppling over with his hands on his knees in a weak attempt to keep himself up. This wasn’t how life was supposed to be, and Lucas only had himself to blame.
El’s eyes glossed over at the scene before her. He could sense her and the way she wanted to fall down right beside him and share the cry. Knowing her, she’d gather him in his arms and reassure him that none of this was on him, but he knew better. Fuck, he knew so much better than to even consider the idea that maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t his fault.
Because it was and now he was forced to deal with the consequences. He carried the grief, the regret, the guilt, the sadness, the anger, the empiness, and the memories. And the worst part of it all? He deserved it. All of it.
With the last shred of energy he had, Lucas turned to El and permitted her to see the tears that freely flowed down his face. “Why don’t you hate me?” he snapped. “She was your best friend and I– and… and I let it happen! Why don’t you hate me?”
“Lucas.”
“God, why doesn’t anybody hate me?” he cried, nearly hysterical.
“Lucas.”
“I hate myself for this because you don’t want to! Nobody wants to! Everybody knows this falls on me– everybody knows this is my fault–”
“Lucas!” El cut in harshly. Setting her jaw, she crowded into his space and cupped his face into her hands, guiding him until his gaze met her intense one. And with a determination he’d never seen her have, she continued– a sharp emphasis on each word, “This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.”
“How can you even say that, El? Of course, it’s my fault. She should be awake right now. With us,” he said, defeated and pained. “She would be if I would’ve just–”
“You did not fail to save Max,” El admitted in a whisper, a single tear fell as she moved her hands from his face to his shoulders. She looked to the floor and swallowed hard. “I did.”
And then, for Lucas, it all clicked and his eyes softened. Staring at El had never felt more like staring at a mirror. She too had been carrying the grief, the regret, the guilt, the sadness, the anger, the emptiness, and the memories. And the worst part? She actually thought she deserved it and Lucas knew better than to think the same. El was too bright and too good to carry all that on her own.
He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t the only one yelling at the sky and cursing each month that passed. And he wasn’t the only one wondering why his loved ones didn’t resent him. And he wasn’t the only one blaming himself every waking moment for everything that went wrong. And he wasn’t the only one who hadn’t moved on because here El was right in front of him, mirroring his own pain and sorrow. And he’d never felt so seen and understood. He knew her, and she knew him, and they both were completely shattered at the seams until this very moment.
Lucas wiped away the stray tear on El’s cheek and shook his head, sobering up from the breakdown. “This isn’t on you. I know most of us have this idolized version of you in our heads, but you bleed just like us. So this– the world’s fate and Max’s fate doesn’t fall on you. I need you to know that. You’re a superhero, El, but you’re also human.”
Without another word, she threw herself into him, giving him the tightest embrace he’d ever received and he couldn’t be happier to return it. They stayed wrapped up in one another for well over an hour just to do it again. Then they cried, they laughed, they talked, and they healed.
And Lucas, who’d been held by the darkness for so long, finally found the light.
-
“I do not think I love him the way I should.” It’s the last confession Lucas expected to hear from his friend and it was so out of the blue, he had to blink a few times to make sure he heard her correctly.
“Wait… what?”
“Mike. I do not think I love him the way I should,” El repeated, her lips pulled down into a frown as she shrugged. “I have thought about it a lot, and I do not think he loves me either. We are not the same people we were and we do not fit anymore. Maybe we never did. Does that make sense?”
Lucas nodded and threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close for comfort. She rested her head against him and sighed. “Have you told him this?”
“Not yet, but I am not worried about it. He loves Will. He just does not know it yet. I think I will talk to him tonight,” she said. It was far too casual for Lucas’ liking because since fucking when did Michael Wheeler have feelings for William Byers?
Then he let himself think about it for a minute and the more he did, it all came together like a puzzle he’d been trying to solve for years. Mike’s protective nature over Will. Will’s art hung all over Mike’s room and basement. Mike’s anger at the attention girls gave Will. Will’s sadness when Mike and El were together. Mike’s heart eyes whenever Will entered a room. Mike loves Will. And Will loves Mike. Oh, that does make sense, he thought.
Will always was the easiest to love of them all. Many years ago, way back when they were still stuck in Mike’s basement playing D&D, he was Lucas’ first crush. And while it only lasted a month, it was something he still thought about from time to time whenever he’d spot Will across the room with a smile etched onto his face.
“How do you know?” he asked suddenly. El looked up at him for clarification and as always, he gave in to her, “I mean, how do you know you don’t love him?”
“Well, I talked to Jonathan. I asked him how he knew Nancy was the one and he told me that at the end of the day, when all this is over and the world is saved– when he pictures what he wants life to be like, Nancy’s there. That’s how I knew.” She seemed a little sad to admit that and Lucas couldn’t fault her for it. It must’ve been hard for her. She lived so long in black and white only to discover that the world bursted with color. He imagined it would be difficult to let go of the only thing you’ve ever known outside of the trauma.
“It’s okay,” he said, hugging her tighter and swaying them back and forth until she laughed gently into his shirt, causing a flutter to erupt in his chest– which was totally not normal… or appropriate for that matter. “You’ll find someone to picture someday.”
She stilled in his embrace and one glance down at her and Lucas was once again met with the sadness from before, making him regret his choice of words immediately. But there was something else uncomfortably settled in her expression that he couldn’t quite decipher. It was almost like she was riddled with… guilt?
“I already have,” she said quietly, avoiding his stare.
He doesn’t know why but it felt like he’d been punched in the gut. The feeling only amplified when El went to pull away from him. Keeping a steady hand on her upper arm, he gently tugged her back with a pleading expression.
“El, c’mon, you can talk to me–”
“Not about this.”
“Why not?” he pushed.
“Because,” said El, harsh– cold– dreadful– and all things that didn’t sound like El, “I just can’t, okay?”
Wordlessly, Lucas nodded, respecting her refusal. But even that didn’t seem to please her. She looked pained and a little trapped inside her own head, like she wanted him to pry it out of her just so she wouldn’t have to hold the weight of the secret by herself anymore.
He frowned at the thought and her eyes flicked down to his mouth, fixating on it. And abruptly, the air surrounding them changed, becoming charged with something warm and sharp. Sharp enough to cut open unspoken truths and leave them splattered on the floor for all to know.
Lucas froze in his spot, the hand that rested on her arm suddenly felt like it was on fire and his throat went dry. It was weird because it wasn’t weird. He’d felt this before; the clear memory of Max pressing her lips to his at the Snowball and the pining that followed came back in a flash. It was as though that same pining– that same exact want– began to burn brightly in his chest.
“Lucas,” El said knowingly, her eyes shifting from his lips to his hand. God, why hadn’t he let go of her yet? “The person I picture– the people I picture–”
“There you are!”
The two jolted apart at Mike’s voice, but their gaze remained locked solely on each other. It took Mike stepping between them with Will sheepishly trudging behind him for them to snap out of the trance they’d found themselves in. Lucas shook his head to himself all while sucking in a shaky breath. A dirty feeling washed over him then, it was like he’d been caught doing something wrong. Something unforgiving.
And in that moment, he had been caught. And it was wrong. The way his eyes were glued on El– and the way he was stuck in her space– and the way he took her in and absorbed her– and the way his hand burned when it made contact with her skin– and the way that prickle of awareness that started in his chest and traveled down to his stomach because he wanted and wanted and wanted– it was wrong. It was all so so so wrong. He had actively been caught pining for his best friend’s girlfriend. And Lucas Sinclair was a goddamn mess. The one person in the whole entire world who was off limits… and he’d allowed her to bring him back to life.
Just when the self-deprecation was on the verge of slicing him open and revealing his sins to everybody in the room, El spoke to Will and Mike, “What are you doing here?”
“Hop’s giving me shit,” Mike provided with a huff, rolling his eyes in a way only he could, dramatic and genuinely irritated. “He thinks we’ve been sneaking around to makeout, even though I told him I’ve been with Will all day.”
Lucas and El’s eyes met momentarily- her’s practically shouted: See? And Lucas’ responded of their own accord: Jesus, has Mike always been this obvious?
“I vouched for him, but Hop’s not buying it,” Will said to fill the silence that followed. “So now he wants us both home or we’ll be grounded.”
“And I’ll be tagging along to break the news that Will’s crashing at my place tonight,” Mike added smugly, and wow, Lucas was an oblivious idiot. How the hell hadn’t he noticed this King-Kong-sized development between his friends?
“You’re not tagging along and I’m not crashing at your place. That’s like poking the beast just to get a growl out of him.”
“Exactly.”
El, growing more impatient by the second, groaned at the two. “This is not fair. I want to stay with Lucas and Max. Just tell him I am okay.”
Lucas felt something soft and warm squeeze his heart at the confession. She wanted to stay with him and Max?
“You don’t think I’ve tried that?” Mike questioned, folding his arms over one another and tapping a foot in exasperation. “He threatened to rip up my x-men comics, El! He’s psychotic.”
“Fine,” she said, frustrated and defeated. Her shoulders slumped as she moved past them to get out the door, and with a parting hug from Will and one last fleeting look from El, the three left Lucas and Max alone in that dreadful silence that Lucas despised being used to.
-
“We broke up.”
Frantically, Lucas craned his neck to face her and was met with the opposite of what he expected. Her lips weren’t pulled down into a frown, her eyes were dry and lacked any sign of tears, and that clear look of denial and heartbreak was nowhere to be found. Instead, as she crossed the room from the doorway to the chair beside his that they both deemed as hers, she looked content.
“Are you okay?” he asked stupidly. No other words were coming to mind, so he’d settled for the safest question. The question that wasn’t: Great, so who do you picture in the end after we save the world?
El paused, furrowing her brows as though she was in deep thought. Finally, after Lucas nudged her foot with his own, she answered, “I thought it would hurt.”
“So it didn’t… hurt?”
“No, it did not,” she said with finality, like she was making her mind up on the matter right then and there. Her gaze drifted from him to Max and she leaned forward to wrap her warm hand around the redhead’s cold and lifeless one. “But everything is okay– I am okay. I am where I want to be.”
And they left it at that.
El never did mention who she pictured at the end of the line. And as for Lucas? Well, he never mentioned that when all was said and done– and when the world was saved from Vecna– and when Mike pulled his head out of his ass and confessed his undying love for Will– and when Will finally told them about what really happened during his week in the Upside Down– and when Dustin solved the case for the very last time– and when the red sky went back to his favorite shade of blue– and when… and when Max woke up– it was her and El he pictured. It would always be them.
-
“Lucas Charles Sinclair, I’d like a word!”
At the sound of his father’s voice, Lucas threw his head back and hissed at the ceiling like it was God above him, “Seriously? What did I do? Was I Christopher Columbus in a past life?”
“Christopher Columbus?” El echoed.
“I’ll tell you the real story later,” he said without missing a beat, putting her curiosities to rest and reassuring her all at once.
Charles Sinclair swiftly walked into the hospital room with Erica by his side, which didn’t help to ease Lucas’ worries. Don’t get him wrong, Lucas loved his dad more than anything in the world. He couldn’t have asked for a better one, even if he wanted to. With that said, he could sense a damn lecture on the horizon and wasn’t prepared for it in the slightest.
“Your sister shared some interesting information with me today,” his dad said, his tone holding no room for anything resembling jokes or laughs, much to Lucas’ chagrin.
“She’s lying,” he replied like a reflex.
“Am not!” Erica bit back, her glare so intimidating that Lucas shifted in his seat from the nerves that began to bubble in the pit of his stomach. What had she told their father to get him so worked up?
Charles raised a hand to silence them and it worked the way it always did. “She said you haven’t been eating.”
“Like I said, she’s lying,” Lucas repeated, playing it off as casually as he could.
“She’s lying?” Charles narrowed his eyes at him. It was a clear indication that he didn’t believe him, but he was in far too deep to give up on the act now. Lucas firmly nodded, earning a scoff from both his dad and Erica.
“You’ve thrown away the last four meals we’ve had,” she protested.
“Erica!” he shouted, slapping his hands to his face in aggravation.
“Just the facts!”
“Enough you two!” Charles cut in, quieting them once again.
From beside him, El’s eyes burned a hole into the side of his head, and he refused to look at her. He absolutely refused. Softly, she asked, “Why have you not eaten?”
“I have!” Lucas defended, even though he hadn’t. With a quick shake of his head, he went on desperately, “Look, this is stupid. I’m fine– I’m eating– I’m still here– I’m okay–”
“No, you aren’t!” Charles snapped, his face twisting into something pained and unbearable for Lucas to look at– it hurt too much, knowing he was lying and making his dad suffer because of it. “You say you are but you aren’t.”
“I am–”
“Alright, so tell me, what’s the last thing you ate?”
“I– I had– it was–” Lucas scrambled for a lie but came up short of one, and mortifyingly enough, his vision began to blur with tears. He ignored the stares from everybody in the room because one look at his dad– one look at Erica– one look at El– and he’d break. He just knew he would.
Charles cleared his throat to rid it of the lump. “Lucas, you’re my son and I know you, and I know something’s not right. These last few months have been hard on everyone, but especially you, kid. Especially you. Your mom and I are worried, alright?”
“But I’m fine,” he said, the crack in his voice contradicting his words.
Ironically, that was the moment the tears residing in his eyes began to fall. Crouching down to his level, his father reached out to smudge the teardrops so they couldn’t travel to his cheek. “You have no idea how much I love you, Luke, even when you lie to me.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Lucas noticed Erica wiping her face with her sleeve, and then it hit him. His little sister, who took any opportunity to insult him– who, for the most part, hated him– was crying for him because he wasn’t himself anymore. The grief had become him and he lived to exist in it.
Sure, being with El and Max, brought him back but only in their company. He forgot that he was a person without them, that he had to learn how to be Lucas Sinclair again outside of this hospital room. He had a dad, a mom, a sister, and a group of friends who loved him and who were waiting on him. There was no time to give up, not when Vecna was around the corner and tomorrow wasn’t promised to any of them.
He had to keep living. Not just for his family– not just for El and Max– but for himself too.
“Now, you aren’t in trouble, but you’re coming home and I’m going to watch you eat something,” his dad said, stopping for a moment to allow him time for a response but he didn’t have one. “You don’t have to like me right now and you don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but you’re going to eat.”
So, because he promised himself there and then that he would keep going, Lucas got up without a protest and followed his dad and Erica out the door.
Still, he didn’t gain the courage to look at El. He was too ashamed. And, he decided, that was a battle he’d fight another day.
-
Sitting at the dinner table with his family had never been so tense. Usually, he and Erica would get into heated debates that needed to be stopped by both their mom and dad, and then they’d end the night laughing because somewhere along the way Sue and Charles picked sides and got into it themselves. Life at the Sinclair house was many things, but it was never boring.
Now, though, after the callout he’d gotten at the hospital, the family sat in uncomfortable silence, all while Lucas struggled to get his food down. He’d been so into the habit of not eating, it proved to be difficult to pick it back up and stuff it all down. His mom and dad kept sharing concerned glances.
He dropped his fork with a thud and sighed. He hated to disappoint them. These days, all he could seem to do was fail. “I promise I’m trying.”
Sue rested her hand on top of his and briskly blinked, no doubt trying to keep her emotions under control and not burst into tears in front of him or Erica. “We know, baby. We know.”
He waited until Erica left the table to use the restroom to speak brokenly, “Mom, dad.” Both their heads shot up and they gave him their full attention without question. “I think… No, I don’t think… I know that I… I need…”
Fuck, how many times did he have to cry today? Hadn’t he shed enough tears to last a lifetime?
“I need help,” he finished, lifting his head and keeping his chin held high, despite it wobbling from the soft sobs.
His parents stood from their seats and moved towards him, pulling him up from his own chair and wrapping him in a hug. “We’re gonna get you help and everything’s gonna be okay, I promise,” his mother said shakily. “You hear me? I promise.”
Lucas nodded and buried himself deeper into their arms, allowing himself a moment to mourn all the loss and pain he’d dealt with in the last four years. “I’m so sorry,” he cried into his dad’s shoulder, “I’m so so so sorry– I’m sorry I lied– I’m sorry I’ve been such a shitty son–”
“No,” his dad said sternly, pulling back to cradle Lucas’ face in his hands. “Luke, listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for. Absolutely nothing. We should’ve paid closer attention– hell, we should’ve gotten you help the moment Will went missing in those woods. You were a damn kid, and you’re still a damn kid and you’ve faced more shit than any child should have to, so this– this doesn’t fall on you–”
“But, dad, I–”
Slowly, his dad smiled sadly. “No buts. This doesn’t fall on you. It falls on us. Do you understand?”
When he didn’t reply, Charles bowed his head, taking a moment to scold himself for how he’d handled the last few years of his son’s life. There was always room to do better and he’d failed to do that. He made sure Lucas was looking at him as he continued, “This isn’t your fault. What happened to Will wasn’t your fault. What happened to Hawkins isn’t your fault–”
Lucas’ soft sobs became loud and he shook violently in his mom and dad’s hold.
“And, son, what happened to Max isn’t your fault.”
And then he broke completely, collapsing into them, hardly being able to keep himself upright. Those were the exact words he needed to hear and they came from the exact person he needed to hear it from. He swore at that moment with each cry he released, he’d forgiven himself for everything. For Will. For Hawkins. For El. For Max. For all of it.
And just like that, Lucas Sinclair was reborn. He didn’t exist to live in guilt, and grief, and hospital rooms, and sadness. He was a person outside of their doomed lives. He liked to plan campaigns with Will and Mike. And he liked to tease Erica until she was positively fuming. And he liked to help his mom bake cakes for the new neighbors. And he liked to listen to his dad’s advice, even if he thought it was terrible. And he liked to argue with Dustin about nonsense. And he liked to play basketball until his feet hurt from running. And he liked to be around Max and El more than anything else.
He was Lucas Sinclair and he’d never lose sight of that again. Vecna or no Vecna. He could take everything, but he couldn’t take away Lucas’ sense of self.
Wrapped up in his parents' embrace, Lucas found clarity. He was seen. He was understood. And most importantly, he was so very loved.
-
The next day, El stomped in the room with a sandwich and threw it into his chest. She wasn’t angry, just worried, Lucas knew her well enough to know the difference.
“You do not have to talk. But you do need to eat.”
Without complaint, he complied. And for good measure, he finished it off and thanked her.
He failed to notice the way her shoulders sagged in relief.
-
“You up for learning basketball today?”
El gasped, clapping her hands together in excitement. She stood from her chair in one quick motion to dart out of the room. “Yes! I can’t wait to hit somebody with a ball!”
“El, no–” he called out, nearly chasing after her.
And just like that, piece by piece, life went from terrible to slightly less terrible.
-
“Ever since the earthquake, I guess, I just feel like every good thing– every bright thing about me is burned out. I feel better than I did, but there’s still days where it feels like there’s no light in me at all,” he admitted. Lucas learned that being as honest as he could be was far more helpful than when he lied.
His therapist regarded him silently, taking a moment to analyze what he said. “And that’s normal, Lucas,” he said sincerely. “I’d be more concerned if everything you’ve gone through hadn’t messed with you mentally.”
Lucas chuckled at that. “I guess that makes sense.”
“You’re not alone. I get a lot of people coming in here because their loved ones were never found after the earthquake. And I tell every single one of them that feeling the loss is better than not feeling it. Now, I don’t know if you’re sad or angry–”
“I was both,” he answered, and his therapist smiled because he used the past tense.
“And what are those emotions if not the most human of them all? Your light wasn’t burnt out, Lucas. It was just too blinding to see.”
-
He held the notebook up to show El the picture he’d been working on. She grinned at the sight of her, Max, and him all together as stick figures, and instead of a hospital room, they were on a beach. Max, long before she was in a coma, promised to both that she’d show them the ocean one day.
And while Will would’ve fondly laughed at the lack of skill, El genuinely had never seen something so beautiful.
Lucas tore it out of the book, grabbed a roll of tape, and placed it right next to the one drawn when he and Max planned their movie date. He knew the day would come when they'd get the chance to fulfill that quiet oath, and he knew– he just knew El would be there too.
Tossing El the notebook, trying his best to ignore the air that grew thicker with tension by the day, he gave her a bashful smile. “Your turn, little Hopper. Let’s see if you can beat my masterpiece.”
She laughed and picked up the pen he recently used, clearly accepting the challenge. When she finished, she traced her finger over the paper gently, like she longed for it, like it pained her to know it wasn’t possible. “Lucas?” she questioned with a frown.
He tilted his head, worry consuming him at her sudden melancholy. “What’s up?”
“Remember when we were talking about who we picture at the end of all this?”
Lucas’ throat went dry as he stilled completely. His eyes widened, was she finally ready to tell him? Jesus, was he ready to hear it? This whole time he pined and pined and pined– enough so that Max would relentlessly tease him if she found out.
“Yeah, I remember,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear.
“And remember how I said I already know who I picture?”
Lucas nodded, his heart lurched forward, attempting to break through his chest and toss itself into El’s hand like it belonged there. It was only her and Max’s to have anyway, he thought helplessly.
“Well, I– I’ve been thinking– and I–”
When words failed her, she flipped over the notebook, revealing her picture to him. Like his, it was him, Max, and El. They were outside, under a basketball hoop. The corners of his lips quirked up of their own volition, and then he looked at El whose eyes were glossed over and it dropped.
“El,” Lucas hurried out, “what’s wrong–”
She avoided the question and opted for going on, her voice breaking, “Do you see how I drew the sun over you?”
“Yes,” he acknowledged, concerned and anxious.
“It is because you are the light,” she said in a whisper. Her voice had no power to be any louder. “You have always been the light, Lucas. I have never had good things–”
“El,” said Lucas sadly, his hands aching– practically begging him to reach out and hold her.
“I need to say this,” she rushed out, her body nearly shaking, “I need to– because if I don’t, I never will. I have never had good things, and all I have ever known is the void– which is just darkness. But you give me– give us light. In our best memories, you’re there. You pull us out of the dark.”
Lucas’ lips parted in shock, the lurching of his heart turned to full on pounding, and everything else around them became static. He held his breath.
“When all this is over, I picture basketball games, I picture movie nights and sharing popcorn, I picture standing at the beach for hours.” El let out a watery laugh and quickly wiped at her face. She looked down at her feet, something she only did when she was nervous, and gulped, “I picture you and Max there. Every time.”
Releasing the breath he kept trapped, Lucas blinked rapidly. This had to be Vecna, twisting his mind out of shape and letting him think he could have things he couldn’t. There was no other explanation. “Prove your El,” he demanded.
Snapping her gaze to his, El scoffed. “What?”
“Prove to me you’re El. Because if I walk across this room and I kiss you, and I tell you that all I wanna do is be near you, and I finally say I love you– and this turns out to be a trap, I think I might actually fucking die.”
El stood from her chair at the confession, making it squeak as it swiftly dragged across the floor. “You love me?” she questioned, her voice too much like El’s to be anyone else’s.
“Yes,” Lucas croaked, his hands shaking from holding back, “So tell me something that only El would know to prove to me that this is real–”
“Before I left for Lenora,” El began, her response immediate and decisive, “you gave me your navy blue shirt and Max gave me her green scrunchie. I have worn them constantly since. And I–”
Lucas didn’t even wait for her to finish before crossing the room in only three strides, he stepped into her space and cupped her jaw into his hands. He paused, allowing her a moment to back out if she wanted to, and all she did was grab ahold of his shirt and yank him down to capture his lips with her own.
El melted into him, her hands moving from his shirt to his shoulders, trying to keep her legs from giving out. And Lucas, who only ever kissed one other girl, wanted to explode as his arms wrapped her waist, pulling her impossibly closer to him as a way of saying: Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go– I’m never letting either of you go.
She’d smiled against his mouth, her face burning at their proximity. And then he followed, finding himself smiling too, and for a brief second, that’s all they did. They grinned against one another until they were pulling back, laughing at themselves. El rested her head on his shoulder and Lucas pressed a kiss to the side of it.
“All I wanna do is be near you,” he said, just like he told her he would. She lifted her head to meet his eyes and could’ve passed out at the pure admiration and awe in his. “And I love you. So much. Like in a very where-you-go-I-go kinda way. But also in like a cool, totally normal way–”
El stood on her tiptoes and pushed another kiss to his lips to shush him. It was all too much because they were allowed to do this now. They were allowed to have open-mouthed kisses and love confessions and laughter and intimate hugs and corny exchanges. And soon enough, they’d have Max back too, and she’d complete them.
“I love you too,” she sighed happily, intertwining their hands. “And this– this is just how I pictured it.”
Lucas smiled ear to ear.
Yeah, he decided then, everything would be okay because when July faded into August and Lucas dug himself up from the grave of mourning, he found that he could live life again.