precarious ; jonathan byers [2]

chapter fourteen- hey, billy bitch

(a/n: expect a longer chapter here, guys.)

Casey

Thirty-two minutes. That's all it took for the entire group to reconfigure the rundown shed in the Byers' backyard into an unrecognizable space. The plan was simple; interrogate Will in a place he wouldn't be able to pick out. If we tried waking him from his slumber in his bedroom or the living room, he'd rat us out to the Mind Flayer, which would result in the demo-dogs and whatever other hellfire knocking at our door in a matter of seconds. But if he couldn't spy for the Mind Flayer, then maybe-just maybe- we could get him to talk.

It took some heavy lifting and a lot of teamwork between everyone, but the shed was pretty convincing if you ask me. The first thing we had to do was completely empty the shed as it was full of old tools and lawn care equipment that hadn't been used in quite some time. We then had to cover the walls with anything we could find. Tarps, sheets, flattened cardboard, even old newspapers. Every wall just had to be covered in order for this to work.

I even found one of Lonnie's older rifles tucked away in the corner that he obviously hadn't taken to Indianapolis when he and Joyce divorced a few years back. Sliding my hammer into the belt loop on the side of my jeans, I picked the weapon up in my hands to examine.

It was nothing more than a .22 caliber, but the locals would still use these for teaching their children to hunt smaller rabbits and squirrels. The rifle itself didn't have much of a kick to it once it was shot and the ammo meant for it was small, meaning it probably wouldn't do much damage to something as big as a demogorgon. I would know, since the .38 I used on one last year, also of Lonnie's, didn't slow that thing down either. Besides, I still had Hopper's revolver tucked away in the waistband of my jeans so I guess I really wouldn't need it if things were to go south.

I turned back to Hopper who had been behind me and I held the rifle out for him. This caused him to stop as he was duct-taping the corner of a tarp to the wall and he raised an eyebrow out of curiosity. "Who knows?" I muttered. "You might need it during the questioning. Better to be safe than sorry."

He tried his best to hold back a smirk-a very Hopper-like smirk at that. One of those smirks I had secretly been missing despite still wanting to be angry with him. "Yeah, you'll probably need the bigger one," He stated, setting the duct tape on the workbench behind him and he took the weapon from my hands. I watched as he removed the small magazine, double-checking his ammo quantity before shoving the clip back into the rifle and putting the safety on. "You sure you know how to use it?"

Now he's just teasing me. I crossed my arms across my chest at his statement, popping my hip out to the left to warn him how sassy I just might get. "What, like it's hard?" I sneered in an almost arrogant tone.

He sighed, reaching behind him to scratch the back of his neck. "I take it you still haven't forgiven me?" He asked quietly. Without meaning to, I felt my eyes narrow up at him, surprised he'd even ask something like that.

But If I'm being honest, I was wanting our friendship back. I don't know what it was about Hopper, but there was some part of him that gave me comfort- probably because for the past year, he's been the only father figure in my life. Growing up, my mom always told me that my real dad skipped town once he found out she was pregnant with me. It's always been me and her, side by side. I wouldn't have changed it for the world; she's the most badass, hardworking woman I've ever met. But I could tell- and I knew she could, too- that there was always something missing.