The Quiet Place: Inbox

[beyourzoomer]

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[deadboywalking]

[He's gone with the toothy, wall-eyed version that Eddie and Beverly had described. Have a shivering nod.]

Yeah. The teeth are...kinda like the demogorgons, huh?

[beyourzoomer]

[It's a good drawing. Horrifying. She'd never been scared of clowns before, but...well things are a lot different now, aren't they?]

Yeah, kinda. [She holds her breath for a moment, thinking about what Eddie had told her about his future. That the thing she's looking at eventually kills him. There has to be a way to keep that from happening.]

How've you been lately?

[deadboywalking]

[Will looks down for a moment more, then slowly reaches out to close the sketchbook.]

Okay. I think a lot. About home.

...we're not here to talk about me, though.

[beyourzoomer]

[She thinks about home a lot, too. She tries to focus on the good parts - like meeting all of them, especially Lucas - and not the bad parts. But the bad parts are what tend to creep into her nightmares when she manages to sleep. She reminds herself that it could have been a lot worse. She hadn't been possessed.]

I thought we were just here to hang out for awhile.

[She's bad at this. Talking about stuff going on with her. She's too used to holding it all inside. It's second nature at this point.]

She's back. Faith's - friend.

[deadboywalking]

We can do both.

[Will nods, slowly, reaching out one foot to gently nudge her knee.]

Does she blame you? Her or Faith?

[beyourzoomer]

No.

[She looks down at his foot and nudges him back lightly with her knee.]

I didn't mean for it to happen. It just...I was out, before the dust storm started. I was caught in it. Everything happened so fast.

[deadboywalking]

I know. I mean...it's not your fault. It's really not your fault. Nobody blames you.

[Now he's scooting a little closer, close enough to lean against her side.]

[beyourzoomer]

I ran.

[Her voice grows more quiet.]

I didn't fight. I just...ran. All those lessons I've taken at Fight Club and I still just ran like a coward.

[deadboywalking]

[Will scoots even closer, voice lowering in response to hers.]

Running doesn't make you a coward. It makes you smart.

[beyourzoomer]

[She's getting used to people being in her personal space here. Eddie, usually. She's starting not to mind it the way she would have back home. She hesitates for a second and then rests her head on Will's shoulder.]

It doesn't usually solve anything, though.