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The thing about Lucas is that he just feels really, astronomically lost. Sure, he has gone through this Upside Down thing 3 times but each time seems harder and harder to move past. Harder and harder to process.
He doesn’t know why that is. Maybe because he’s older, maybe because while the Upside Down and a girl with telekinetic powers and having NDAs with the government is wild--some of it scary--none of that compares to life outside of that.
Or his life outside of that, anyways.
Ever since that November of 1983, Lucas has grown up a lot sooner than he would’ve liked to. This caused him to see things in a different way. Of course, he always knew what the Midnight comments referred to, and he will always remember the other kids thinking he was dirty, telling him he should take a bath or something.
But none of that fully registered until the aftermath of Will’s rescue. When the government went to his house, and Dustin’s and Mike’s and Will’s, but their experience with those people were a lot different than his.
A lot more gentle and understanding with his friends’ parents while his parents had to remain calm in the face of blatant disrespect and condensation.
When, after those federal agents left, his mother turned to him and said, “Lucas, baby, please remember to stay careful when with your friends” in a tone of voice that was much more frightful than all the other times she had spoken that sentence to him before.
Because, after all is said and done, his friends--for the most part--can put the terrors of the world behind them. Demogorgons and Mind Flayers and Demodogs can be a nightmare every once in a while or a triggered memory as they go on living.
But Lucas has so much more to fear than that. So, yes, he joins basketball to try to escape it all. Yes, he finally meets his first, real Black friend. Someone that can understand him, but also not really .
Or is that a good thing? Lucas supposes all of his friends can’t be attached to his world saving adventures. But what about the friends that are?
Why does he feel so alone ?
Steve is surprised, to say the least, when Lucas comes to him in the beginning of the school year asking for help with basketball for a couple of reasons.
- Lucas doesn’t seem like a sports kind of guy.
- If he did do sports, it would be baseball. Steve has seen Lucas with that wrist rocket. It would’ve made sense.
- That Lucas came to him at all.
Don’t get him wrong, he loves the kid. Entering multiple life and death situations and almost dying at the hands of a racist asshole for his sake makes it impossible for there to be a lack of love.
But he and Lucas aren’t as close as he would like them to be. To be honest, he felt Lucas still didn’t like him all that much. The kid had a tendency to look at him with squinted eyes, huff in annoyance, and roll his eyes whenever Steve said anything.
(And Lucas wonders where Erica gets it from? Okay.)
Even through all that, though, Lucas is coming to him for help with something. He ignores the fact that he is the only person Lucas could come to for such a thing and accepts the question as an olive branch of sorts.
It is a bit awkward at first due to the two never having one-to-one interactions prior. Steve keeps lying to Lucas, telling him he’s doing good--which Lucas can definitely tell was a lie, if the skepticism on his face is any indication--but it becomes less and less awkward as time goes by.
Lucas actively improves over the fall semester, becoming even better than Steve--something he will never admit out loud. And it’s worth it when Lucas comes to him during a slow shift at Family Video one Monday afternoon buzzing with excitement about making the team just like Steve knew he would.
Steve was scared that this development would cease their Sunday scrimmages, but alas, that was not the case which is how he has found himself where he is now.
A game of 21 with Lucas. But he’s winning. Steve doesn’t win anymore.
He calls a timeout when, after he makes another shot, Lucas doesn’t automatically go for the rebound. Steve gets it himself and pauses, watching as Lucas hunches over, hands on his knees as he huffs out his breaths and his back facing Steve. Also very strange. Lucas has impeccable stamina.
“Are you okay, Sinclair?” Steve voiced. He knows Lucas heard the concern in his voice when he sees the younger boy’s shoulders stiffen.
Lucas continues to look downward at the court beneath their feet, nodding as he does so. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
Steve shifts the ball from his hands to his hip and tilts his head, “Wanna look at me while you say that?”
He notices Lucas make a quick swipe to his face before he turns, plastering on a fake smile, “I’m good. I’ll be better when I kick your ass.”
Normally Steve would have a retort but his eyes are focused on the blood that stains Lucas’ hand. “Whoa, dude, are you bleeding?”
Lucas has the nerve to do a double take at his hand, “Oh, yeah. My nose bleeds when the season changes.”
Steve has never seen Lucas’ nose bleed because of the weather before, nor does he even know if that’s a thing, but he doesn’t have time to ponder on that when Lucas comes and steals the ball from him, making a lay up in the process.
He’ll look into it later. Right now, he has to wipe that smug grin off of Sinclair’s face.
Because basketball is called short today, Lucas decides to go home. He could have gone to the Hellfire meeting that was being held simultaneously but he isn’t in the mood. His head is killing him, again, and that club is no place to be when you’re having migraines.
Lucas opens the door to an empty home. Erica has dance practice today and their parents are accompanying her, as per usual. This gives Lucas some piece of mind because he really didn’t feel like fielding his parents’ questions about his day. He just wants to take some medicine and have a nap before working on his homework.
Setting his bag down by the door and taking off his shoes--house rule: no walking around in your outside shoes--Lucas makes his way into the kitchen and opens the fridge. There isn’t really much way for snacks right now since Mom has to do grocery shopping tomorrow on her weekly Wednesday off but Lucas manages to find some yogurt.
He grabs a small packet of granola from the pantry and a bottle of Ibuprofen from the medicine cabinet before he makes his way to the table. Lucas sits in a loud silence as he scarfs down his afternoon snack, mind occupied as he thinks on the past couple of days.
Chrissy Cunningham and Fred Benson have both died in the past couple of days. He didn’t know either of them very well, but the thought still saddened him. No one should have to go in the way they did.
But something about it is bugging him. He knows it’s bugging the others too, especially Dustin. Since that fateful November in 1983, The Party has always had some sort of sixth sense with danger. This situation is screaming with that danger.
And for some reason, Lucas feels like it’s only the beginning. He tries to shake the thought away when he hears some ticking. He pauses midchew of his granola and tunes his ear into the sound. It sounds like a clock? A big clock.
But that doesn’t make any sense. His family doesn’t have any large clocks.
He tries to tune it out to no avail. Eventually, having enough, Lucas stands from his seat and throws away his trash before slowly making his way out of the kitchen and into the living room.
The ticking is coming from upstairs. As Lucas ascends the steps, the ticking gets louder and louder until he finally gets to his bedroom door. Then it’s the loudest it’s been so far.
Lucas slowly creaks his door open and is met with the sight of a grandfather clock in the middle of his bedroom. It chimes four times, each chime louder than the next. Lucas just stares, unsure of what he’s seeing.
“Lucas!” Erica’s voice shouts from behind him, a hand landing on his shoulder to turn him around. The boy in question jumps in fright.
“Erica? You’re- you’re home?”
“Uh, yeah, idiot,” Erica replied. “It’s 6:30. Dance ended half an hour ago.”
Lucas’ face scrunches before he turns his head back to where the clock is. Or where it should be.
What the?
“Anyways,” Erica stated. “Let’s go eat. Mom and Dad got McDonald’s.” Erica practically skips down the stairs in order to get to the rare meal.
Lucas nods, eyes remaining in the blank area. Yeah, he needs to talk to someone about this. But for now, he goes and enjoys his McDonald’s.
It’s been a long time since Max has spoken to Lucas, which is unlike them. They always find the time to speak with one another, no matter what.
Every school day, regardless if they share classes or not, the pair sneaks notes into each other’s lockers throughout the day, having full conversations off of those alone. On A Days, where they share a lunch, they finish those conversations in the cafeteria and start a new one for the afternoon’s notes, which would be finished at home during their scheduled 8pm phone call. On B Days, they finish their locker conversations during their scheduled call and start a new conversation to be continued for A Day locker notes.
But they haven’t been doing that. There have been no locker notes, no scheduled phone calls, or even a smile in the hallway. Max leaves a note in Lucas’ locker but her locker is empty during the following passing period. Max calls and Mrs. Sinclair tells her Lucas can’t talk because he’s busy .
Max smiles and Lucas looks away. That one hurts the most.
But that’s changing today. Something is wrong and she’s going to get to the bottom of it. If she could find him.
She asks different people for Lucas’ location. Mike and Dustin are no help. Eddie Munson has no clue, and neither does any of the random kids that know who he is now due to sudden popularity.
It’s Patrick McKinney that tells her where to find Lucas. The library. She makes her way to the quietest room in the school and stands in the doorway, searching the space for her boyfriend.
Ah, there he is , Max muses. He’s in a little corner to himself, homework spread in front of him, a textbook open as he scrunches his eyebrows while he takes in the question.
She’s always found his studious face adorable. The scrunch of his brows, the slight pinch to his mouth and his ever present leg bouncing punctuating his mindset. Max almost leaves him to it--he’s clearly concentrating and she would hate to break it--when she notices a grimace overtake his face.
She observes as the boy sets down his pencil and places his head in his hands, the heels of each hand taking home in an eye. Max hurriedly makes her way over to Lucas and sits next to him, ensuring to make small amounts of noise so as not to alarm him when he opens his eyes.
Max leans over, one hand goes to Lucas’ back and rubs circles while the other rests on his right wrist. Her thumb traces minute circles there as well. Eventually the pain seems to subside somewhat. Lucas slowly removes his hands from his eyes and hesitantly looks towards her, something akin to a grin attempts to form on his lips.
Max keeps her hands where they are. She ceases the circular movements on his back but the motion on his wrist persists.
“Do you need to go to the nurse?” She keeps her volume even, in part due to their location but mostly due to her boyfriend’s headache.
Lucas shakes his head, “I have some medicine.”
“In your bag?” Max questions. “Is it that bad?” Is it happening that often?
“Allergies,” Lucas dismisses. “No big deal.”
Before Max can respond, Lucas hastily packs up his things and leaves the room. But not before giving her hand a squeeze in gratitude.
Max simply watches Lucas as he makes a turn down the hallway, presumably to the bathroom to take his medicine.
At least he said something to her today.
It’s about 5pm after school when Lucas finally begins to make his journey out of the building. He was working on a project for history class so he was using the library to get some research done.
Not only could he look at some of the books, but he could actively avoid people by doing his homework in an area of the school his friends seemed allergic to. They have all been breathing down his neck as they get closer to the answers of this year’s mystery.
He appreciates their worry but he doesn’t need them around him all the time. He needs some time alone at the moment. They wouldn’t fully relinquish that until he said he’ll have his walkie and that Steve can pick him up to bring him home afterwards. Figures.
Lucas is making his way past the gym when he hears sneakers squeaking against the linoleum, the rhythm of a basketball accompanying some of the steps.
He peeks his head in and sees Patrick catching a rebound. He’s not fully surprised to see him there. He knows the older boy stays after school sometimes in order to avoid going home.
Maybe Lucas should invite him over for dinner sometime.
Lucas is just about to continue his way out of the building when Patrick calls his name, asking if he wants to shoot for a bit. Lucas knows he should turn it down--Steve is waiting and he’ll get worried--but he wants a little bit more time without someone worrying about him.
So he agrees.
Soon he and Patrick are practicing their free throws and talking shit. They talk about basketball and music and absolutely everything that isn’t the Upside Down and Vecna and countdowns. It feels nice. He hasn’t laughed like this in a while.
“So what were you here so late for?” Patrick asks. He gives Lucas a bounce pass. Lucas catches and dribbles once before shooting again. He misses.
He winces the teensiest bit, “History project for Mr. Warner.”
Patrick chuckles, “Is it that stupid family history thing?” He passes again.
“Yeah,” Lucas shoots and misses. “I can’t find anything, really. And my parents don’t know about all he’s asking for.”
Patrick nods in understanding, “Yeah, it was the same for me.” He motions for him and Lucas to switch. As they do so he asks, “And your friends?”
“Oh, uh,” Lucas stutters. “They’re doing fine. They actually don’t get why I’m having such a hard time with it.” He gives a small laugh. Patrick makes his shot and Lucas runs to get the rebound.
“It’s probably like that about a lot of things, huh?” It’s Patrick’s voice but when Lucas turns around, it’s not Patrick standing there.
Instead there stands a humanoid creature with tentacle-like extensions pulsing all over his body and a claw-esque attachment where his left hand should be. Vecna.
Lucas stands with his mouth agape.
“Your friends don’t get you, Lucas,” Vecna said. “You feel alone. But don’t worry, your time’s almost up.”
“No,” Lucas says. “You’re not real.” He snaps his eyes shut and when they open again, he’s alone in the gym.
The boy hurriedly gathers his things from the bleachers and runs out to Steve’s car.
Lucas is quiet during dinner, which isn’t necessarily unusual. But the way he’s picking at his plate is.
Especially since it's his favorite, spaghetti and garlic bread. Erica tries not to make it obvious that she’s watching him. Keeping her eyes on her plate, half listening to her parents’ conversation as she looks at her brother from the corner of her eye.
He looks tired. With him juggling daily basketball practices and Hellfire meetings, it’s not an unusual occurrence nowadays.
But… this is different.
He has bags under his eyes, barely able to keep them open. There’s a droop in his shoulders that’s never there and the slight semblance of a frown. What’s truly alarming Erica, though, is his legs.
Underneath the table his leg was continuously moving up and down, occasionally nudging against hers due to their positions adjacent to one another. Again, not all that unusual. Lucas tends to have a lot of excess energy so he fidgets at times.
What is unusual, however, is Lucas’ lack of a reaction when Erica punts him in the calf each time he accidentally gets her underneath the table. Usually, he’ll fidget, she’ll subtly punt him, and he’ll punt back a lot less subtly, which leads to a clang on the table and their mother reprimanding them.
But that hasn’t happened tonight. She doesn’t know what to think about that.
Dinner is over soon enough. It’s Erica’s night to wash the dishes but Lucas offers to do them for her. She almost wants to ask him if he’s feeling okay just for that alone, but she doesn’t.
Why would she pass up a chore-free night?
When she gets up to her room, Erica keeps the door open--house rule: no one can close the door until they’re 13, unless to change clothes--and, unlike other chore-free nights, she keeps an ear out for Lucas.
He takes longer in the kitchen than necessary. To minimize dishes, the family uses disposable plates, meaning the only dishes he really has are some forks, cups, and pots. It shouldn’t take more than 45 minutes but Lucas takes almost an hour and a half, the time Erica used to take her shower included.
When she hears Lucas’ very purposely slow footsteps trudging up the stairs, as opposed to his usual step-skipping hops, Erica hurriedly grabs her book from the nightstand--yes, it’s The Hobbit , leave her alone--and pretends as if she’s been reading the whole time.
She hears Lucas make his way past her bedroom in order to get to his, which is next-door. She hears his door close and some shuffling as his socked feet move across the carpet. A few drawers open and shut, his closet opens and closes and eventually, Lucas’ bedroom door opens. He, once again, slowly shuffles, this time to the bathroom and Erica hears the shower water about 10 minutes after the fact.
She glances at her clock and realizes it is way past her bedtime. She mumbles a curse before setting her bookmark inside the novel and placing the book on the stand at the side of her, turning off her lamp.
Because of a 5-minute shower limit, she faintly hears Lucas creaking the bathroom door open just as she begins to drift off.
Only to be awakened by a muffled scream coming through the wall she and Lucas share. She squints at her digital clock, briefly catching the time of 3:26am, as she hurriedly creeps to her brother’s door.
She knocks but doesn’t wait for an answer as she opens the door. Lucas is in his bed, sweat trailing down his face and making a stain in his wife beater. His eyes are wide, blinking rapidly as he takes in his surroundings, his chest is heaving and his hands shake as they grip his blanket to his mouth.
“Are you okay?” Erica asked. She instantly berated herself. He obviously was not okay.
But Lucas, being Lucas, doesn’t admit to that. “I’m fine. Just a dream.”
Erica’s eyes squint and her brows bunch together, “...Are you sure? You can talk to me.”
“Yeah, I’m fine, go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow,” Lucas responds, referring to her spelling bee.
She doesn’t feel right walking away from him but he’s right. She wouldn’t let him live it down if she lost, even if it wouldn’t necessarily be his fault.
“... Okay,” Erica eventually acquiesced. “Night.”
She hears him grumble the sentiment in return as she quietly shuts the door behind her. As she gets settled back in the bed, she can’t get Lucas’ face out of her head.
Something about it just didn’t seem right, but he’ll come to her--or anyone--when he’s ready. For now, she has to sleep because she has a spelling bee to win.
Which she does.
Lucas sat on the floor in between Erica and Max, his back leaning on the couch as the television played The Price is Right . Why they are watching daytime game shows instead of literally anything else, he has no idea but he’s not going to ask any questions. Personally, he has much bigger things to worry about.
Like the fact that he’s most likely going to die within the next day.
He’s tried hard not to think about this since he’s found out but it’s impossible not to. His own brain won’t shut up about it. A constant yelling telling him to do something and when he’s finally able to get it to a whisper, he sees Dustin looking at him like a sad puppy.
He’ll see Steve looking at him with concern.
He’ll see Max and Erica looking at him with sadness and anger and hopelessness and love . So much love.
And the whispers return to a deafening squeal.
So he keeps his eyes on the television trying to figure out what he’ll do. Maybe he’ll write letters but that doesn’t seem right. Maybe he’ll just look them each in the eye and tell them how he feels, something his parents have always taught him and Erica to do.
He doesn’t know. What he does know is that he doesn’t want to die but, though Nancy and Robin are trying to figure out answers, there is a high possibility he will anyway.
And isn’t that something?
Suddenly the little bits of chatter from around him and from the television comes to a halt. His ears ring from the sudden silence as he looks around him and sees an empty room and a blacked out television screen.
He stands and walks around the downstairs area for a bit, calling out his friends’ names. But none of them answer. It’s Vecna that does.
“Lucas,” his tone is almost sing-song as he taunts the child. “It’s almost time.”
Lucas shakes his head, “No.”
“Did you tell Max how you feel?” Vecna didn’t wait for an answer. “Of course not.”
Lucas shook his head again and ran out of Steve’s front door, only to be met with the sight of himself and Max from last school year. When she was new to town, when he just wanted her to feel welcomed.
The scene playing out in front of him was one he remembered well. One the two laughed about with one another multiple times. He watches as their 13-year-old selves argue about the party’s secrecy. He sees as Max walks away and makes a smart remark, causing him to sniff himself and huff in disdain.
He almost wants to laugh until he sees Billy. Until he sees the hardened look on Billy’s face as he watches 13-year-old Lucas walk away. A look Lucas didn’t fully understand at the time but angers him now.
Lucas feels chills down his spine and turns to see Vecna making his way to him from inside Steve’s home. He pushes his anger to the side and runs off, eventually finding the Byers’ home. He runs inside the abandoned home, expecting it to be empty.
Instead, he hears a loud clang and shouting coming from the dining room. He runs the little ways to that point of the home before finding himself nose to nose with Billy Hargrove.
Lucas looks down and sees himself in his 13-year-old body. Feels the pain of the bookshelf pressing against his spine, senses Billy’s hot breath on his face as he threatens Lucas, but most of all, he feels scared.
So scared .
But, no, he can’t let Billy know that. No, he has to show Billy that he’s strong. He has to show everyone that he’s strong .
So he knees Billy in the groin. The fear remains but it’s held up with some courage. Before he can fully feel that emotion, however, the scene switches right before his eyes.
Now, Lucas has a front row seat to fireworks exploding upon the Mind Flayer. The beautiful colors burst in the air, harming the fleshy creature and his host, Billy.
He stands a few feet behind where his 14-year-old self stands on the edge of the railing hurling tens of fireworks at the interdimensional monster. He hears when the monster gets Billy. Hears Max’s screams of anguish.
But all he could feel was relief. The same feeling his 14-year-old self felt in that exact moment. Relief that the horror was over. Relief that his greatest tormentor would no longer be around.
The moment Lucas thought that maybe he was a monster.
As soon as the thought comes, Lucas feels tentacles dragging his body away from the Starcourt Mall and the look of confliction on younger-Lucas’ face. His back attaches to a pillar as tentacles wrap their way around each arm, each ankle, and his neck.
He struggles to breathe as he attempts to break free, Vecna stalking his way up to him.
“Your suffering is over,” Vecna states. Lucas tries to speak but the tentacle around his neck tightens once more.
Lucas follows Vecna’s claw as it reaches over his head. Just as he does so, music starts to play.
They're out to get you, better leave while you can
Don't wanna be a boy, you wanna be a man
You wanna stay alive, better do what you can
So beat it, just beat it
He hears his friend’s voices calling out for him. Erica and Max are the loudest, pleading for him to fight.
You have to show them that you're really not scared
You're playin' with your life, this ain't no truth or dare
They'll kick you, then they'll beat you
Then they'll tell you it's fair
So beat it, but you wanna be bad
He remembers playing basketball with Steve. He thinks of inviting Dustin to play during his first day in the middle of fourth grade. He recalls Max’s smile when she told him, “And I like talking to you, Stalker.” He recollects on Erica’s tea parties that he always had the special invitation to.
He remembers Mike and Will and Eleven and his parents and he fights . He fights and breaks free.
Just beat it (beat it), beat it (beat it)
No one wants to be defeated
Showin' how funky and strong is your fight
It doesn't matter who's wrong or right
Just beat it (beat it, beat it, beat it)
Beat it (beat it, beat it)
When he opens his eyes, he’s falling to the ground, Steve catching him just in time. Lucas is panicked, hyperventilating, and can barely get out a sentence.
But all is fine when he feels everyone’s hands on him in some way. When he feels Erica’s tears hitting his neck from where she sits wrapped around his back, Max’s shaking hands on his face, Steve’s trembling fingers on his shoulder and Dustin’s sweaty palm on his leg.
They’re whispering to him that he’s fine, he’s fine, he made it . They’re going to make sure it doesn’t happen again.
And he wants to believe them, he does, but he’s not too sure that’s possible.