𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑?

𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗𝚜 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑?

𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚘𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊 𝚍𝚘

𝚃𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚜?

Lennon shivered as she walked down the street she turned from when Eddie dropped her off.

She quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure Eddie was gone before making her way three houses down.

Brontë's car was parked in the driveway and the front light was on. It was half-past five in the morning and she didn't know if she was prepared to face an angry half-brother so she snuck in through the window.

She carefully tiptoed around the side of the house, peaking in through the curtained window above the couch to the living room, and saw the kitchen light was on as well.

"Shit..." she muttered, feeling her jaw chatter in the wintery cold.

She hurried to her bedroom window and winced as she popped the screen off the border. She exhaled a slow breath as she gently set it against the backside of the house. She then carefully found the grip to the top of the bottom panel.

Just as she carefully started to slide the window up, she gasped and turned.

There was a rustling of branches but the breeze was almost nonexistent. Her eyes immediately went to the trees that separated each set of backyards around the Northside of the lake but there was no movement. Her eyes were wide and intently focused on the dark depths of the shaded area before turning to check the other side. But there was no way the sound flooded from the right of the yard. So, she turned back toward the origin of the sound.

It was eerie all of a sudden. The ground felt squishy and sunken in and the air around her seemed unusually quiet. Maybe it was the fact it was cold and in the middle of the night. Maybe it was the fact she was sleep-deprived and over-exhausted.

It was most likely a bird or rabbit, or even the turtles finding warmth from the aging winter but the fear of being caught by her brother put her on high alert.

She shook her head as if to clear it of any sinister thoughts and slowly pulled her window open. There was a loud screech as the rubber folded against the border of the window and she quickly stopped.

She winced and held her breath, listening for footsteps or voices as she waited for a clearing.

When there was no sign of anyone around, she continued to push the bottom panel up until there was a space big enough for her to slide in. She turned around and slid her head and arms inside first before there was another alarming sound coming from the brush of trees by the lake.

She verbally gasped and held onto the window sill with a death grip. She was staring out the glass with her heart beating in her ear. She was on her back, curling her head to see down the runway of her belly. Lennon rapidly cast her skittish eyes out into the darkness again but there was nothing there.

She quickly slid her legs through so there was no possibility for someone... or something... to grab her. Her ass hit the ground in a hurry, causing a thud to fill the room. She pulled her knees close and peered through the gap in the glass.

She was breathing heavily when her eyes moved across the expanse of the perimeter. She could make out the spiny branches of bark being illuminated by the half-moon in the sky. She could make out the soft fuzz of the moss growing up the trunks and the stills of the remaining leaves on the twigs near the center of the brush. But there was no sign of any lifeform.

There were no rabbits, no birds, no dogs, no bugs...

There was nothing there and yet she couldn't help but feel... accompanied.

She wasn't focused on being caught when she leaned outside and snatched the screening from the ground. She wouldn't be able to pop it back into place from the inside but if she could find a lip, she could lean it into place and fix it properly when Brontë left for work the next day. By then, she was quick to close her window, locking it for once, and shutting her curtains with haste.

She knew there was nothing there, but the feeling of being watched was too unnerving for her to tolerate.

She exhaled slowly and sat her ass in bed. There was no use in sneaking around only to flip a switch and let her possibly conscious brother know she was in. So, she sat in the dark, clutching onto her bag and sitting in silence for a while.

From the overstimulation to the sudden release of anxiety, back to feeling immense fear all within the span of six hours felt like too much for her body to handle. Her leg bounced quietly as images raced across her mind.

It always started with the look of horror on her brother and fathers faces when her mom went missing. Then it was she was in the car with her dad. She would then appear in the woods. Then she was seeing the images in court of her defiled mother and brothers corpses. Then she was in The Hideout and watching Eddie on stage.

She didn't like the feeling of sharing a room with that many people. At the bar, she was brushing shoulders with a bunch of strangers and the smell of alcohol growing with the raucous voices made her nerves feel like fiberglass. Every little movement, even one as small as breathing, felt like someone was shoving needles into her skin from the inside.

Then she was with Eddie. She saw those eyes on the backs of her eyelids and couldn't help but feel a brief sense of safety.

And when she was high, she felt like a soul living inside the skin of an empty body, like all her organs and bones were removed with only her rational mind to occupy it. She was at ease. She went from 100 to 0 real quick and now she was back at 100...

But for a moment, her mind clung to the memories she made at 0.

When she wasn't worried about her self-image or concerned about her popularity and reputation as a Seagrave. She felt safe.

She didn't feel safe outside The Hideout, but she felt safe afterward. She felt safe with Eddie.

She could remember feeling her cheeks ache with joy when she smiled for too long and the ache in her belly when she laughed. It wasn't just the weed. It wasn't just the fact she was drunk off drowsiness. She was happy.

And she surprised herself with how interested she was in D&D. She knew a little bit about the subject prior to meeting him. She knew how everyone bullied people who were into it because it was eccentric and unique.

She did associate D&D with delusional nerds who had no social life, but when Eddie explained it, her perspective changed significantly.

There was so much passion in his speech and the creativity that went into the game was incredible. It wasn't much different than what she did.

If anything, what Eddie did was better than anything she could or would ever write. Any story she conjured up on paper through words would never surmount the vividity and creativeness Eddie created through roleplay and fantasy foretellings.

Thinking about the way Eddie's eyes gleamed with pride made her ease up on her bag.

She slipped off her shoes and jacket and set her bag down on the ground.

The memory of his laugh allowed her to lay on her side and relax.

The memory of warmth that radiated from his heating system allowed her to close her eyes.

And the smell of his pillow allowed her to fall asleep.

***

"Oh, you slimy maggot! Get up!"

Lennon bolted up in her sleep. She gasped for air and was immediately faced with a bright light.

"Oh fuck..." she hissed in pain, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the bright awakening.

"Get up!" Brontë shouted with irritation, putting a beer to his lips and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Bro..." she groaned. "What do you want?" she complained, running her fingers through her hair and sitting back on her hands to face her angry brother.

"Where the fuck did you go?" he ordered an answer.

Lennon scoffed.

"Nah," he was quick to correct her. "Fuck that. You're gonna answer me because I'm legally your goddamn guardian, Lenny, and if anything were to happen to you it would've been my fault. So tell me where the fuck you went for..." he insisted with an aggressive tone in his voice as he checked the time. "Seven hours?!"

"I wasn't out for seven hours, Bro..." she sighed, rubbing at her eye and remembering she still had remanents of makeup on her face. "I was back shortly after you would've gotten home..." she yawned, downplaying the time difference.

He usually got off around three, got home around three-thirty, or sometimes he would have to stay a little longer depending on how chaotic the drunks were. But Lennon woke up a little after five... Which meant she got home somewhere around six.

She checked the time and it was now almost seven and the color of the sky peeking out from her closed curtains started to lighten. So, she knew there was a good reason for him to be angry. But she was fine.

"Oh no?" Brontë shot back indignantly.

"No!" she swung her legs over the side of the bed and faced her brother knowing there was no way she could go back to sleep now. "I was gone for a few hours and I came back here. Chill."

"Do not tell me to chill, you little brat!" he furrowed his eyebrows vexatiously. "It's the middle of the fucking night! And all I get is a half-assed note telling me you're gonna 'hang with some friends and go back to the house' which," he scoffed contemptuously. "I know is a lie because you don't have any friends."

"Heh," she chuckled. "How would you know?" she asked incredulously. "Just because I don't invite my underage friends to the house to drink and party doesn't mean I don't have them."

"Steve tells me you and Nancy get along but she's better than this," he ridiculed her. "She's got her shit in order and she would never be out this late or hanging in a place like The Hideout, to begin with!"

"What Steve doesn't see won't kill him," she rebuked, getting to her feet and moving towards the hall.

"Whoa," Brontë put his hand up and blocked the doorway. "We're not done here."

"What?" she shot her eyebrows up with surprise. "You gonna refuse me a piss now?" she rolled her eyes and shoved his arm away.

"What the fuck's gotten into you?" he derided.

"The fuck's gotten into you?" she questioned, whipping around and facing him halfway to the bathroom.

Brontë was looking back at her with tired blue eyes. His face had turned crimson but it was obvious to her that he really was just trying to keep her safe. The only problem was that Lennon knew that wasn't how he could do that.

Nobody could shield her from the world. Nobody could fight her battles for her. Nobody could face her fears for her or protect her from the things that scared the shit out of her.

Only she could do that.

Brontë was trying to take control of what he felt he could. And now that he knew he couldn't even control his knowledge about his sister, he was stressed and losing sight of the real problem by hiding behind another.

"I respect you for taking me in, I do," she sighed. "So I respect you as a person, Brontë. I don't expect you to treat me differently because Mom's gone and Dad's in prison!" she felt her face get hot all of a sudden and something in her nose felt pinched and itchy.

"We tell child protective services all the bullshit they wanna hear but we both know I can take care of myself. I'm not out there trying to make this shit harder, dude! I'm being safe! I'm not trying to make your life harder. So just go back to being my brother and not my non-existent parent, and let me be, would you?" she felt her eyes get watery but she turned away from her brother before he could notice.

She had gone into the bathroom, leaving Brontë to dwell in his regret over her situation and how he approached her probably wasn't the best. He was acting out on his emotions and he wasn't thinking reasonably. He did more damage if anything.

Lennon used the bathroom and took off her makeup before moving back into the hallway. She expected Brontë to be waiting to scold her some more but he was gone. She looked around but didn't try too hard to find him so she went back into her room.

All weekend, they didn't cross paths again after that. Lennon stopped running because the cold was becoming bone-aching in her opinion but she did continue to rehearse the routine for the winter finals.

Because Brontë left around four in the evening and came home in the middle of the night, he didn't see Lennon practicing in her room. And because Lennon was asleep when he got home and spent her days in her room, she didn't hang out with Brontë.

Come Monday, they were stuck in a car together. Despite being contained in a moving vehicle, they didn't talk the entire ride.

When Lennon unbuckled her seatbelt, she broke the silence. "I love you."

Brontë looked up drearily. He didn't expect her to break the tension between them but he also didn't expect her to say something sentimental.

He didn't feel like she loved him in the way that it mattered. And sometimes he questioned if he loved her.

Growing up, they went from being best friends to hating one another to being best friends, to growing apart. And with so much time put between them, they didn't know each other too well.

When she was brought to him with custody papers after their father was arrested, she felt like a responsibility rather than his best friend or his half-sister, which never really mattered anyway because she always felt like his full sister even after he graduated.

It was hard to love something that felt forced. She was his responsibility. He had to shelter her, give her an education, feed her, provide for her, look out for her, everything a parent would do for their child.

She was never his kid nor his responsibility before.

But they were kids then and they were adults now.

It was almost like Lennon had become an entirely different person and he only loved the kid he left when he graduated from high school. He severed them into two people.

And he wasn't sure if he loved her.

He knew he loved the kid he grew up with... But Lennon was different now.

He cared for her and he said he loved her because he had said it all his life and meant it, but he didn't know if he loved her in the way that mattered now... if he loved her... unconditionally.

"I love you too, Lenny," he replied whole-heartedly, finding a glimmer of the little girl he spent summers with having water balloon fights with, finding the little girl he shared his secrets with before Miss Riordan moved him to Indiana, finding the little girl who used to draw with him when he insisted on playing with cars instead.

He found her.

"And I'm sorry if it seemed like I was interrogating you the other night. I was just..." he looked back at the steering wheel for a moment.

"Being a parent," she finished his sentence. "I know," she promised. "I'm sorry for making you worry," she met his apology with one of her own, understanding where he was coming from but agreeing to disagree with him. "The last thing I would do is put your shiny gold reputation on the line. I wouldn't have put myself in danger if it meant you came down with me. I was being safe even if you don't believe me."

Brontë hummed, not totally believing her but agreeing that she came home in one piece and knew that was enough to end the argument.

"Just be a little more considerate next time? Tell me who you're going out with. I won't get in the way. I just wanna know where you're at just in case, you know?" he looked over and hoped for compromise.

Lennon grew uncomfortable. She knew if she had told Brontë that she was hanging out with the nineteen-year-old, cultist, drug dealer freak he would disagree. In his eyes, she wouldn't be safe. Not with him.

"I'll try," she nodded, getting out of the car and waving him away.

From there, she got through the first half of the day fine but then it was right back to the cafeteria because she didn't pack herself a lunch and eating alone in the freezing cold was beginning to be worse than the bullying from Steve or the annoyance of Eddie from across the room.

She arrived a little earlier than usual and took a seat with Max and Jane that day.

She was already on the cheer team and it wasn't like people were bullying her so she took the initiative to leave the pack.

The girls ended up becoming friends and Lennon happily got to know them better as they ate. They talked about music and Lennon learned about Max's little crush on Lucus from the basketball team. Lennon offered to introduce them but Max acted like she would rather run out in front of a moving bus than shoot her shot. So she left them alone.

Everything seemed fine as people started to flood into the cafeteria but again, the universe wanted to test her.

She was sitting at the head of the table with Jane to her right and Max to her left. They were smiling and talking about a class they shared together while Lennon idly started a column for the school paper due on Friday.

She had her tray sat ahead of her paper but her ears remained with the girls as they talked. She thought she had it all in order; the balance. She thought she had everything balanced. School, her social life, her own needs, she thought she had it all in order.

But just as she had found a grey area between peace and fear, somebody had taken their seat beside Max with a heavy hand, causing Lennon to stop scribbling in the middle of a sentence. Her eyes stared coldly down at her paper for a moment, focusing on what she could make out in her peripherals before they moved up to the pair of distinguishable hands beside the metal lunchbox.

What she found odd was that nobody spoke.

Not Jane.

Not Max.

Not Lennon.

Not even Eddie when he took his seat.

She stared anxiously at the silver rings on his hand but she could physically feel his eyes on her.

There was silence before Mac decided to speak up first.

"If you're looking for Mike, Dustin, and Will, they're not here."

Apparently, the four of them had become friends over the summer but because her mom almost backed out of marrying Billy's dad, she didn't start school in September with the rest of them.

And in that moment, Lennon realized Dustin was the man to tie everybody together.

He was friends with Steve which made him friends with Brontë. However, Dustin was also friends with Eddie and Max.

Maybe Dustin was a gateway.

Maybe if Lennon got to know the friendly boy who cursed a lot, then maybe she'd have a cover to hang out with whoever she wanted.

"I wasn't looking for them," Eddie informed them with a piqued interest in the quiet girl refusing to meet anyone's eye.

Then, three more people took their seats beside Jane and Eddie and Lennon actually did look up this time.

She saw Grant, Jeff, and Gareth take their seats with a worried expression. It was like they didn't know what to do. This wasn't their usual table but Eddie called the shots so they had to oblige.

Gareth's eyes scanned the girl's expressions and matched their discomfort. The only person who didn't look uneasy was Eddie who sat back in his seat with his eyes focused on Lennon's ignoring stare.