°🌟9🌟°

🌟CHAPTER 9🌟

*🌟Third Person's POV🌟*

*•1 MONTH LATER•*

Christmas Eve found Hailey back in the familiar chaos of the Wheeler basement, dressed in a simple elf costume for the boys' campaign. She'd do anything for them, and she'd long since stopped complaining about it.

"Something is coming," Mike intoned, his voice low and dramatic as he peered over his Dungeon Master's screen. "Something angry. Hungry for your blood. It is almost here."

"What is it?" Will asked, his voice a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"It's the thessalhydra, I'm telling you," Dustin stated with absolute certainty.

"It's not the thessalhydra," Lucas countered, shaking his head in total denial.

"I'm telling you, it's the thessalhydra," Dustin insisted, leaning forward.

With a loud thud, Mike slammed a painted figurine onto the game board. "The thessalhydra!" he yelled.

"Damn it," Lucas sighed in defeat.

"It roars in anger! Will, your action!" Mike demanded, turning to the youngest Byers.

Will looked to Lucas and Dustin for guidance. "What should I do? I-"

The two older boys shared a quick, silent conversation and came to an immediate agreement.

"Fireball him!"

"Fireball the son of a bitch!"

Hailey watched from the couch, a soft smile on her face, as Will threw the multi-sided dice. They clattered across the wood before coming to a stop. "Fourteen!" all three boys yelled in unison, erupting into cheers.

"Direct hit!" Mike announced, leaping to his feet. "Will the Wise's fireball hit the thessalhydra. It makes a painful..." He let out a guttural, painful roar, falling to the ground and thrashing as he imitated the creature's death throes. "...and then... it crumbles to the ground. Its clawed hand reaches for you one last time, and, and, and... and..." He went limp, playing dead.

The group cheered, celebrating their hard-won victory. Mike got up from the floor, brushing himself off.

"Lucas cuts off its seven heads, and Dustin places them into his bag of holding. You carry the heads out of the dungeon, victorious, and you present them to King Tristan. He thanks you for your bravery and service," Mike concluded, signalling the end of the campaign.

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, that's not it, is it?" Dustin asked, his face a mask of disbelief.

"No, there's a medal ceremony-" Mike began, but was immediately cut off.

"Oh, a medal ceremony? What are you talking about?" Dustin scoffed.

"And-"

"The campaign was way too short," Lucas pointed out, and the others nodded in vigorous agreement.

"Yeah!"

"It was ten hours!" Mike reminded them, exasperated.

"But it doesn't make any sense," Dustin argued.

"It makes sense," Mike shot back.

"Uh, no, what about the lost knight?" Dustin pressed.

"And the proud princess?" Lucas added.

"And those weird flowers in the cave?" Will chimed in.

Hailey let out a quiet laugh from the couch, shaking her head at their familiar, silly bickering.

"I don't know, it's-" Mike started, but was interrupted as the basement door opened and footsteps descended the stairs. Jonathan appeared, sniffing the air with a playful grimace.

"Jeez, what's that smell? Have you guys been playing games all day, or just farting?" he joked, making the boys chuckle.

"Oh, that's just Dustin. He farted. Dustin farted," Lucas said, blowing a loud raspberry for emphasis.

"Okay," Dustin replied, utterly unimpressed.

"Dustin farted."

"Very mature, Lucas," Dustin deadpanned. Lucas blew another raspberry but fell silent when Hailey spoke up.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't just Dustin who contributed to the... aroma," she said from her spot on the couch.

Jonathan's eyes finally landed on her, taking in her costume. A small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Nice outfit."

Hailey responded with a playful glare.

"Will. Come on," Jonathan said, nodding toward the stairs. Will got up, grabbing his backpack.

"Bye, guys," Will said, following his brother out.

"Bye, Will."

"See you, Will."

Hailey would have loved to go home, but Karen Wheeler had insisted they stay for dinner. She wanted to refuse—the thought of a formal meal made her skin crawl—but her brother was eager to stay, and she couldn't deny him that.

Dinner was a loud, boisterous affair, the boys making jokes and laughing easily. Hailey, however, stayed quiet, pushing her food around her plate. This was the part of the evening she'd dreaded most: Steve was there, sitting across from Nancy, a perfect part of the Wheeler family tableau. He looked comfortable, at home. It made something ache deep in her chest.

She didn't say a word, and Dustin noticed. It made his own laughter feel a little forced, unhappy to see his sister so withdrawn. She'd confided in him a little, and he'd promised himself he'd find a way to cheer her up, even if it took time.

Steve noticed, too. He'd spent the last month watching her avoid him in the school halls, ducking into classrooms or turning down another corridor whenever she saw him. He couldn't understand it. After everything that had happened at the Byers house, after the night in her room, he thought they'd had a moment. A real one. He'd replayed it in his head a hundred times. But now, she acted like he was invisible, and the rejection stung more than he wanted to admit. He kept stealing glances at her, willing her to look back, but her eyes remained fixed on her plate.

After dinner, Karen Wheeler offered to let them sleep over. Hailey immediately declined; her voice polite but firm. "Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler, but we should really get home."

All she wanted was the comfort of her own bed, a place where she could close her eyes and, for a little while, escape from a reality where the boy she couldn't have been sitting right across the table, holding another girl's hand.

The silence of her own house was a stark, welcome contrast to the noise of the Wheelers'. Hailey trudged up the stairs to her room, the weight of the evening finally settling on her shoulders. She closed the door behind her, the click of the latch sounding like a period at the end of a very long, very painful sentence.

She didn't bother turning on the light. Moonlight streamed through her window, painting silver stripes across her floor. She kicked off her shoes, the elf costume feeling ridiculous and childish now. With a heavy sigh, she fell face-first onto her bed, the springs groaning in protest.

For a moment, she just lay there, breathing in the familiar scent of her own laundry detergent and the faint, lingering smell of her perfume. Then, she rolled over and reached for the one thing that could offer a sliver of comfort. From under her pillow, she pulled a worn, slightly faded teddy bear. It was an old thing, from a time when her world was much simpler.

She hugged it tightly to her chest, its soft fur brushing against her cheek. A single, hot tear escaped and was absorbed by the plush fabric. Then another. And another. Soon, she was crying in earnest, great, heaving sobs that shook her entire body. The quiet of the house muffled the sound, letting her grief pour out in private.

She held the bear even tighter, as if it could somehow absorb the ache in her chest. In a moment of quiet, foolish vulnerability weeks ago, she'd given it a name. A secret name she would never, ever say out loud. A name that belonged to the boy with perfect hair and a surprising heart, the boy who had seen a part of her no one else did, only to walk right back into the arms of the perfect girl next door.

She cried for what could have been. She cried for the confusing mess of her own feelings. And she cried for the simple, heart-breaking fact that she was here, alone, while he was somewhere else, with her.

Pressing her face into the bear's head, she whispered the name into the silent, empty room, a secret confession meant for no one but herself and the stuffed animal she'd named Steve.

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