( Lucas | 001 ) - Blog Posts
sinclairss:
you were there, right?
it was like some kind of secret club only instead of keg parties or secret handshakes, it was a group of people who’d witnessed (or…taken part in? lucas wasn’t sure) the horrors of the carnival. he could merely nod before dropping into the seat opposite adam. suddenly he wasn’t very hungry at all, focused instead on tearing the crust of his pizza off and then into tinier and tinier pieces. “no. not unless you can impersonate tommy hagan.” it was only once the words had fallen so easily from his tongue that lucas thought about them. it was a joke. just a joke. but it was also a little too close to home.
he had a couple of bruises from the impact of the attack, some scrapes from the harsh ground, but nothing that would leave lasting damage. at least not physically. he poked at his food with a fork and thought about the goo that had disintegrated dustin’s before simply dropping the fork and leaning his chair back on two legs, hands propped upon his head as he watched adam carefully. lucas didn’t know how to broach the subject, but he was curious. “what about you? are you…feeling more yourself now?” the quirk of his eyebrows asked half a dozen other questions, including but not limited to do you even remember doing that? do you know what happened? is this a tree commune thing? but he didn’t ask any of those. he just waited, wondering if adam would answer the question he’d asked out loud or something in between.
Adam didn’t get how the kid seemed to be processing this all so well. Maybe he was a naturally level-headed kind of guy, like Adam used to be. Or still was? He didn’t know. Adam was used to being the supportive one, the emotionally mature one who lived to help those around him with their problems. But right now, he was reeling and feeling guilty and like he just wanted to go back to 1985 and run away with Cole a lot sooner. He gave Lucas a small smile when the other joined him, wordlessly offering him the saran wrapped cookie he’d gotten with his lunch. “Wait, what about Tommy?” Adam asked, confused by the mention of the guy he’d hated in high school. Adam vaguely remembered him from the games they’d played before the Tunnel of Love, but he hadn’t heard about him doing anything else yet.
The weirdest thing about it all, though, were the lack of injuries on Adam. He knew that they’d had superhuman strength while they’d been like that, but it seemed weird that none of them had ended up with so much as a scratch. He didn’t know what that meant for them, honestly. As Lucas leaned back, Adam rested his head in his hands, exhaustion weighing on him. “Yeah, I am,” Adam assured Lucas, wondering how much the kid knew or didn’t know about any of it. But frankly, Adam didn’t have anything to hide; any help he could get right now would be great. “It’s like I blacked out or something,” Adam explained, biting his lip. “The last thing I remember is the Tunnel of Love, and then waking up to find out what we did. I don’t understand it.” He sighed, shaking his head and taking a sip from the glass bottle of Tropical Punch Gatorade he’d bought.
sinclairss:
who: lucas & @goldenboyrichards where: the hospital cafeteria what: comparing notes
hospital food sucked, but he hadn’t eaten yet today and while he’d snagged a bag of skittles from the vending machine near steve’s room earlier in the day, the rainbow candies weren’t sustaining him hours later. lucas wasn’t even really all that hungry, but he thought maybe some of his sluggishness was because all he’d consumed in the last 12 hours was that pack of skittles and three cups of coffee. he paid for a cardboard-looking slice of pizza and some rubbery french fries and turned around.
it gave him a little sense of déjà vu, actually. suddenly, he was fourteen years old, scanning the hawkins high cafeteria for mike and dustin and wondering if things might be different for him this year. he was fifteen and anxious about splitting his time between the basketball team’s table and hellfire’s. he was sixteen and figured out he didn’t care and sat at a different table almost every day. and then he was eighteen, holding a tray of food after visiting his injured friend in the hospital. shaking off the thought, lucas found the first empty table he could and took a seat. he was halfway through the pizza when he glanced up and noticed someone he knew. well, knew of, more like. adam richards was the kind of jock lucas had idolized as a kid…and then he was gone. he’d come back recently and all lucas knew about him now was that he’d been at the forest commune and that he’d almost had to get between him and cole montgomery during the carnival fiasco…until that thing had attacked him. he lifted his hand in what he hoped was a welcoming kind of wave. “hey. need some company?”
Cole was alive. He was going to be okay. Things would eventually go back to normal, right? So why did Adam still feel so fucking shitty?
Probably because Cole had told him about everything that he’d done. Only... it wasn’t Adam, was it? He had blacked out. He couldn’t remember any of it, and that was terrifying. To not be in control of your own body, making your own decisions and being made into a weapon? It horrified Adam. It devastated him. To think that he was responsible for so much death and destruction made him feel sick.
So sick that he had no appetite. He’d finally been forced to leave the room in order to eat something, but Adam couldn’t. He’d been playing with his Jello, scooping it up and letting it slide off of his fork back into the container. It was soothing, in a weird way, and Adam just had to waste enough time that it wouldn’t be suspicious when he returned.
At the sound of a voice, he looked up with a confused expression. Oh, it was one of those kids from the carnival, Nancy’s brother’s friend. Adam offered him a small nod, kicking the chair across from him out for Lucas to take. “Uh, thanks,” He tried for a smile, but it felt fake even to him. “Lucas, right?” He asked, only vaguely aware of him. “You were.... you were there, right?” Adam asked, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his hoodie. “Were you hurt?” Did I hurt you? Adam was asking, begging for the answer to be no.
