Outside Melvald's General Store, the midday sun beat down relentlessly, casting sharp shadows on the sidewalk. Dray sat quietly on a shaded bench nearby, licking the last smudges of chocolate from his fingers. His wounds, though still sore, were cleaned up now, hidden beneath a loosely buttoned shirt and some borrowed gauze.
Earlier, he had wandered around, quietly asking if anyone had seen a girl—around eleven or twelve years old. It was a vague hope, a question without a clear picture. Unsurprisingly, no one had seen anything useful.
Still, he didn't feel discouraged. Some things weren't meant to be found by chasing. Sometimes, you waited. Nancy and Jonathan had said they'd meet him at the same spot after half an hour, once they picked up supplies. And he trusted them. Completely.
He leaned back against the wooden slats of the bench and exhaled slowly, letting the silence settle in. At first, he kept his eyes on every movement, expecting them to turn up at any moment. But after forty-five minutes passed with no sign of them, the edge dulled. Time crawled. Two hours went by.
His half-finished chocolate bar—his last—was long gone. Now, all he had was the silence, the heat, and his thoughts.
"Weird... I'm way more impatient these days," he muttered. "Guess four years inside the Gate didn't exactly help my relationship with food… or waiting."
Out there, time felt like it stretched and snapped all at once—days blurred, and meals were a memory.
You didn't wait for things; you ran, you hid, you fought.
Now even standing here, just waiting, made his skin crawl.
It was peaceful—but his mind hadn't caught up yet.
Dray rubbed at his side absently. The bruises were fading faster than expected. His body was healing quicker—far quicker than it used to. Back in Gate, he would've been limping for a week. Now? Another month, and he might just be back to his prime.
He smiled faintly to himself, closing his eyes for a moment. He imagined himself whole again. Not broken. Not hunted. Just... living.
"Hey, kid!"
The voice pulled him back into reality like a hook.
Dray blinked and looked up to see a police officer standing just a few feet away, watching him with a slight frown.
"You alright?" the man asked.
Dray straightened up quickly, slipping back into the role he'd played so well for years. "Yes, sir. I'm good," he said with a convincing nod and a calm smile.
The officer glanced at the bench, then back at him. "What are you doing out here?"
"I'm waiting for my friend to pick me up, sir."
"I've seen you sitting here for at least an hour," the officer said, suspicion creeping into his voice. "Your friend still not coming?"
Dray let out a small, embarrassed laugh. "He was supposed to be here half an hour ago. Guess he's running late."
The officer narrowed his eyes slightly. "What's your friend's name? I haven't seen you around town before."
"I'm from California," Dray said casually. "Met him during a trip last summer. Figured I'd catch up while I was in town."
"A trip, huh?" The officer raised a brow. "Still didn't catch his name."
"Oh! Right. Steve Harrington," Dray said, acting like he'd just remembered. "I heard he's kind of a big deal at the local school."
The officer's eyebrows lifted. "Steve Harrington? That kid's trouble. We've had complaints—him and his group. Bullies, mostly."
Dray put on a puzzled expression. "Really? I didn't know that, sir." Inside, he was smirking. "If only you knew the people I've fooled in the lab."
"You seem like a good kid," the officer said, softening slightly. "You might want to think twice about hanging out with him."
"I appreciate that, sir," Dray replied with a hesitant tone, like he wasn't fully convinced. It was just enough to be believable.
The officer sighed. "Anyway, it's your life. But I did see Steve about ten minutes ago—looked like he was cleaning something up near the Hawkins Theater. Probably got into something again."
Dray's ears perked up. "Really? Do you know which direction that is? I think I should go meet him there."
"I can drop you off," the officer offered.
"No, no, that's okay," Dray said quickly. "If he sees me getting out of a police car, he might take off."
The officer gave a dry chuckle. "Fair enough. Just head two blocks east, then take a left. You'll see it."
"Thanks, sir. My name's Dray, by the way."
"Glenn Daniels," the officer said with a nod. "Take care, kid."
As the patrol car pulled away, Dray let out a slow breath. "God, I didn't expect to meet a cop this soon... I should get moving before someone starts asking more questions."
As he walked toward the theater, memories drifted back to last night.
Nancy had returned first with food while Jonathan went to grab clothes. They had a quiet moment together. Dray had asked her about her family, her life, and one name in particular: Barbara.
Nancy's expression had tightened. "She was my best friend. She... disappeared. Because of me."
Dray hadn't pressed, but Nancy told him anyway—about the night she snuck away with Steve, the guilt she'd carried ever since, and how things fell apart. She'd also shared the story of Jonathan's "pervert" photos, and they'd both laughed at the absurdity.
"So why work with him?" Dray had asked.
Nancy looked thoughtful. "Because even though what he did was wrong, I don't think he meant harm. And… I get it. He feels helpless about his brother. We're kind of in the same boat."
Later, Jonathan returned, and the three of them shared a quiet meal together. It was the first time in a long while Dray had felt something close to normal.
Now, walking down the street, the heat pressing against his back, Dray adjusted his collar and glanced ahead.
"Let's see what the King of Hawkins High is really like."
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Thanks for reading.