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staticscreenwriting · 4 years

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To the stars beyond the blue - one

Summary: Kathleen Sawyer has a problem with authority and people telling her what to do, especially if “people” is her Stepdad Dave. Having had enough of her attitude, Dave and her mom decide it’s time for her to leave behind the temptations of New York City and learn some responsibility while staying with her aunt Susan in small, sleepy Hawkins, Indiana. Though what neither of them know, is that the biggest temptation is waiting for her right there and it comes with a mullet and a killer smile.

This is gonna be an 18+ series. I’m planning to add quite a bit of smut, swearing and topics that could potentially be triggering to some people (domestic abuse - physical and emotional). The abuse will not be romanticized, I promise you that. Just be aware that these themes will be mentioned and explored.

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Chapter one - meet Kathleen

Ron’s Deli smells like old grease and cigarette smoke and the fluorescent lights send a loud buzzing noise through the entire place. There’s an assortment of sandwiches displayed, though I know better than to order any of them. Coffee, that’s what I’m here for. Coffee and warmth.

My boots, still wet from the snow covering the streets outside, make a squeaking sound against the linoleum floor that alerts Ruby who’s slumped over the counter, flicking through some kind of fashion magazine.

“ Haven’t seen you in a while “ she murmures, eyes focusing back on the magazine, making no attempt to actually take my order.

“ Some of us actually work, you know “ I reply. That’s not even close to the truth and Ruby knows this just as well as I do. But neither of us acknowledges it because that’s not the relationship we have. I don’t want to talk about it and she doesn’t care. So we settle for superficial quips.

“ Bite me, Kathleen. “

“ Nah thanks, you know my rules. No food at Ron’s. Just coffee “

“ Just coffee “ she repeats then turns around and grabs the pot and pours me a big mug of steaming hot coffee.

“ Thanks. Put it on my tab. “

She always nods but never actually does. I don’t think I’ve paid for my coffee in years.

I drag myself towards my booth in the furthest corner of the place. I call it my booth but if we’re being overly correct I have to mention that I do, in fact, not have ownership of this particular booth. It’s just the one I always find myself in. Have done so for years.

The tv mounted up in the corner is playing some black and white christmas movie. The volume is too low to hear anything being said but I can tell the movie after a few seconds. Miracle on 34th street. I remember watching it with my dad when I was a kid. He was always big about old black and white movies.

I never told him but I don’t really like it. There’s a thing about Christmas movies where even though most of them have happy endings, a lot of them always make you feel miserable for a huge amount of the runtime. It’s like “look at this sad person ON CHRISTMAS. Then remember how lucky you are. Because you too could be sad. ON CHRISTMAS “.

It’s very preachy and if I’m being honest, I don’t see the appeal of movies that purposely make me sad.

Back then I wasn’t really aware of what it feels like to be sad on Christmas. I do now. It’s like they describe it in the movies only 10 times worse. Because there’s no happy ending waiting for you after 120 minutes. It just goes on and leads to a sad new years and a sad spring and a sad summer.

“ Oh, Christmas isn't just a day, it's a frame of mind... “ oh fuck right of, Kris you absolute bullshitter.

The bell above the door pulls me from my Christmas blues and I watch a couple stumble into the shop. They’re smiling, holding hands. The dude can’t seem to keep his lips of her neck. She walks up to the counter. I can only imagine Ruby’s annoyed sigh and the roll of her eyes.

“ Hi, two turkey delis please “ the girl says between giggles. I feel kinda bad for her. She must be a tourist. Locals know not to eat at Ron’s. Only coffee. Iced tea in the summer. That’s it.

Ruby grumbles something to them before they settle down in the booth across from me. Well there goes me sulking in silence. I try to ignore their loved up giggles as the warm coffee makes its way down my throat. I really try not to pay them any attention. But once I notice his hand squeezing her boobs, that’s enough to make even me uncomfortable.

I take one last sip then scoot out of the boot hand walk towards Ruby. She’s resorted from flipping through the magazine to using the magazine as a underlay while she paints her nails right there on the counter. Another reason not to eat here.

“ So what do you say, do I suit this color ? “ She asks and holds a hand out for me to see. She always paints them red, every single time. Apparently they’re all different shades though so far I’ve been unable to see even the slightest difference.

“ Sure. “

“ Thanks for the enthusiasm.”

“ You’re welcome. Anyway, I’m going to head out. Thanks for the coffee. “

Ruby looks up again then throws a disapproving look at the couple that is pretty much dry humping each other at this point “ did the lovebirds scare you off ? Disgusting. “

“ Let them be, they’re in love. “

She scoffs at that then goes back to her nails “ of course you’d think that. You’re just as bad. “

“ What does that mean ? “

“ Means I’ve seen you at parties. With guys. It’s uh — quite something really. “

“ Ah shut up, Ruby. “ I say and roll my eyes. It’s none of her business really. Though I know it doesn’t come from a place of malice, her words still rub me the wrong way. I have to remind myself that she’s just bitter. She should be married right now, living with her husband in some cute little house in Jersey, popping a few kids and living the suburban dream. Instead he fucked her sister at the rehearsal dinner and she’s left alone, bitter, sad and working at a really shitty deli.

“ Just sayin’ “

“ Mmh. Anyway tell your dad I said hi and to call me if he ever feels lonely. “

“ You’re vile. “

I only smile at that, pull my jacket closer around my body and step into the cold december air.

New York City is always busy. Always. People crowd the streets like ants on a popsicle forgotten on the lawn in a hot summer’s day. Though around christmas time, it feels like twice as many people flock to the city to catch a glimpse of what the perceived to be the ultimate manifestation of christmas magic.

The truth is, it’s cold and loud and crowded and if anything, it’s a perfect reminder just how materialistic we humans really are. If there’s anything to advertise, you’ll get it advertised here. They try to appeal to your innermost romantic. That girl that believes diamonds and flowers are a sign of true love. That kid that still holds faith in santa and miracles.

It makes me a little sick as I pass store after store, bustling with holiday shoppers.

The further I walk the colder it gets. I tug my beanie further down my head, trying to keep my ears warm as I hop down the steps of the subway station. There’s an older man playing the violin while wearing a santa hat. I toss him a quarter and he gives me a smile and I feel like I’ve just earned a few karma points. Shiny gates, I’m coming for you.

It’s early december and New York is fucking freezing. It’s an all consuming kind of cold. The one you feel seeping through your body all the way to your bones. I wish I could say it goes away once I’m home and snuggled up in my bed. It doesn’t. It’s the kind of cold that stays with you.

There’s a man eying me as I step on the train, he’s got bushy unkempt eyebrows and a mean mustache. His tongue licks at his bottom lip every few seconds. Like a deranged snake or something, only way creepier. I try to avoid eye contact. Eye contact it seems only works as a silent invitation to guys like him.

From the corner of my eye I take notice of all his moves though. One has to be prepared always. I grab a hold of my keyes, let them stick out between my knuckles. I don’t know if he notices. I hope he does.

When the train pulls up at my stop, my heart speeds up a little. A silent mantra echoes through my head “please don’t get up. Please don’t get up.” It’s one thing being tough and brave when you’re in a train with many other people. It’s a whole different story when you’re passing through dark, deserted alleyways on your way home.

The trains stops and I wipe my sweaty hand on my jeans. He eyes me again as I step up to the doors. I’m still avoiding eye contact but at this point I can tell that he can tell. I can just about make out as his lips pull into a smirk. There’s nothing amusing about this situation, not to me at least. To think that he finds joy in this makes me physically sick.

The doors open and I step outside, a gust of cold wind hitting my face. I turn around and the doors close behind me and, to my delight, I can see him sitting in the same spot, looking at me through the dirty window of the train. He winks as the train pulls away and I can feel my lunch making its way up my throat again.

I can hear them yelling as I unlock the door. Dave’s voice thunders through the place, spewing expletives and hatred.

“ Jesus Christ, Joan. What is wrong with you? Spending money on shit we don’t need but the one thing, the one thing I asked you to buy, you forget ? Are you really that fucking dumb ? “

My blood starts boiling though I know better than to step in. It only makes it worse.

Mom says sorry. So many times. Too many times. Her voice is timid and small and I hate that this is what he turns her into. When I was little mom was strong and brave and happy. She was creative and fun and adventurous. Now she’s but a shell of herself. An obedient little housewife who settles for a man that treats her like absolute dirt.

They look up at me as I enter the kitchen room and I can see fear in my mom’s eyes. I think that’s the worst thing. To see your mom scared. No kid should have to see their mom this scared. I wish I didn’t.

“ Hi. “

“ Look who’s finally decided to show up. Where’ve you been ? “ Dave scoffs. He thinks just because my mom spreads her legs for him, he gets any say in what I do. Truth is, he doesn’t give a fuck what I do, he’s just a sucker for control. It’s like his ultimate wet dream, to have us do exactly how he says and behave just the way he asks us to.

“ Out. “

“ Out where ? “

“ None of your business. “

“ Kathleen “ mom scolds me. I know she has this fantasy of us three living like a perfect family, all happy and joyful. Smiling at each other as we sit around the dinner table talking about our days before we settle on the couch to watch Happy Days.

That’s not reality though. Reality looks pretty bleak right now. Reality is absolute bullshit.

“ I was at the library, okay ? “

“ With a boy ? “

“ No, what the fuck are you on about. “

“ I know the kind of girl you are, Kat. I know girls like you. “

Girls like me.

Dude doesn’t know shit.

“ Sluts “ he spits out. I know he does it to rile me up. He’s just waiting for me to make a mistake so he can put me in my place and assert his dominance. God, he’s such an asshole.

“ Dave ! Don’t call her th— “ mom doesn’t get to finish the sentence before he smacks her across the face, a loud slapping noise echoing through the room. It never gets easier. Watching him hit her. Watching her excuse his actions. Watching them continue as normal.

“ I told you, to shut up, Joan. You know what happened with the boy. The man.“

I lock eyes with her, begging her to say something. Do something. End this misery. She has the power to do so. This is our apartment. Out food. Our money. She has all the power in the world and yet, when she averts her eyes, I know it means nothing.

Dave looks at me again then flops down on the couch, resting his feet on the couch table and clutching a beer in his meaty slob of a hand.

“ Ma, “ I approach her, wanting to comfort her. This is my mother and despite her flaws and issues, I love her. Sometimes I wonder if she returns the sentiment.

“ I’m okay. “

“ But you’re not!”

“ I said, I am okay. “ the look in her eyes gives me no room to argue. This conversation is over. This topic is over. For now.

Because those things are never really over, are they ?

I take a can of coke from the fridge then sit down on the bench by the window. The snow is softly falling outside and if I didn’t despise the cold so much, I’d even call it pretty. It’s a huge contrast to how things are inside right now. Snow falls slowly, piecefully. My mind is chaos, loud and crowded like Times Square on New Years.

I try to focus on my book and not on Dave who belches after every gulp of beer or my mom who’s perched on the corner of the couch, close enough for him to feel validated and yet far enough for her own comfort. I hate that this place doesn’t feel like a home anymore. It feels like a prison. Like a cage.

That annoying coke commercial comes on tv and I remember a christmas, many years ago. Dad sits in the recliner, we’re in our old apartment and it’s warm inside. The snow falls softly and the place smells like nutmeg and cinnamon. Mom is happily singing along to the commercial and dad’s placing a kiss on her head and it’s not a very important memory but it means so much to me. Because those christmases were good.

My eyes wander towards the shelf by the door, the one that holds a lot of things. Those kind of things you don’t know where else to put. There’s a bowl you’re supposed to put keys in, none of us ever do, and a sculpture I made in 4th grade art class. There’s random books and records and a cassette deck that doesn’t work anymore.

I look the shelf up and down, searching for the one thing in there that means something. The one thing I deliberately placed there because I wanted to see it every time I leave the house.

But it’s gone and my heart shatters.

“ Where’s the picture of dad ? “

“ Huh ? “ mom looks up at me. I can see it in her eyes. She heard me just right and she knows where it is.

“ The picture of dad on the shelf. Where is it ? “

“ It’s time to move on “ Dave chimed in with his throaty, dark voice. He sounds like he constantly has a meatball stuck in his gullet. It’s fucking disgusting. “ He’s been dead for years now. No use in grieving no more. “

Use in greiving ? Does he think we chose to be sad ? Does he really think I can just go and decide not to miss my dad anymore ? Not to be sad anymore ? Not to feel like my heart is bursting into a million little pieces whenever something reminds me of my dad ?

“ What did you do ? “

“ Put it where it belongs ? “

I can feel the hot red rage burning inside, behind my eyes, in the tips of my fingers.

“ What does that mean ? “

“ He’s gone, Kat. Get over it. I live here now and I don’t wanna be reminded of that fact that your ma had another man before me. It don’t matter no more, you’re my family now !” he bellows, getting off his ass and towering over me like a giant sequoia tree.

This man doesn’t know the first thing about being a family. I don’t know a lot about it either but I know this isn’t it.

“ Fuck you, Dave. Dad belongs here ! We’re his family, mom is his wife. You’re just some asshole she keeps around for god knows what reasons. Just a boyfriend, those come and go “.

He’s awfully silent at that. It’s scarier than the yelling and the mean words. Like he’s taking it all in, waiting, building. It’s gonna come crashing down on me in a minute, I just know it.

The snarl disappears and makes room for a smirk so unsettling, it freezes my blood right there in my veins.

“ Is that so ? Tell her Joan. “

“ Tell me what ? “ Oh god. Oh god, no.

“ Dave, this is not the ti— “

“ Tell her ! “ he yells and mom flinches then turns to me, eyes never once leaving the carpet.

“ Baby, Dave and I we — we decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level.”

No.

“ We’re getting married. “

“ No. “ I say, as if my opinion matters to anyone here. “ Mom, you can’t. You can’t do this. Mom “

I beg and I plead and I can feel the tears rising, hardly able to keep them at bay. I feel so small, so helpless.

“ We can and we will ! We’ve also talked about you … “ Dave starts and by the satisfied smirk on his face I can tell whatever he’s about to say, I won’t like it.

“ We had a long discussion about you and your behavior. The skipping school, the parties, the boys. It needs to stop. You need to learn some responsibility. Some respect. “

“ Mom. “ I try to meet her eyes, try to get her attention. This can’t be happening.

“ It’s for the best, baby. “

“ What is ? “

Dave takes over the conversation again. God I wish he would just disappear. Vanish into nothingness. Where he belongs. “ We think the city is no good place for a young woman to grow up. Too many distractions. Too many temptations. How could you ever become a proper wife growing up in this place. “

“ Are you saying you want to send me away ? “

Mom looks up at me finally, and I can see the pain in eyes. And for the first time, I am glad. I hope she’s hurting. I hope it rips her heart out. I hope she feels the same pain she did when dad died. Because this, this is on her. This is a conscious choice she makes. For herself. For me. For our family.

I hope it hurts her because it kills me.

“ I uh — I talked to Susan. You remember her, right ? My half-sister. She uh — she lives in this cute little town in Indiana. Lots of nature. It’s very picturesque she says. They have a house there, she and her husband and the kids. Her step son is your age. I think — I think It’d do you some good. Susan says he’s calmed down his temper since they moved. Maybe it will work for you. “

I want to say so much. I want to scream and cry and throw a tantrum but the pain I feel numbs me to my bones. It’s like all energy is sucked right out of me. I’m too exhausted to react. Too exhausted to fight back.

So I do what I do best. I run. Take my keys, my jacket, my bag. And I run out into the night. The snow. The cold.

Whatever is out there isn’t half as harsh as what’s waiting for me in this place.

I know I have to go back eventually but for now I need to get out and save myself from drowning in my own despair. In the picture of a family that is no family at all and the memories of what used to be.

As I walk down the street I pass a park. There’s a concert going on. A choir sings “ Have yourself a merry little christmas”.

I want to throw up. I do throw up, in the bin by the park bench.

Merry fucking christmas, Kathleen. I’m sure it’ll be a great one.

“Have yourself a merry little Christmas Let your heart be light From now on your troubles will be out of sight”

Absolute bullshit, my dudes. Absolute bullshit.

#billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #tothestarsfic

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shxtxpp · 6 years

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Chapter 3

Characters: Logan, Patton, OC Logan Parents

Summary: Logan loves his family. He loves his siblings. He loves Patton. But he also misses his old family.

Warnings (for this chapter): Family Death (implied), Car Accident (mentioned),

Tag: @kindofclever, @pattonly-gay (if you want to be removed, do tell me please)

A/N: This is Logan-centric, and will be for the next few chapters. Also, I probably changed how Logan is in canon in general, but I am satisfied with how I wrote him? I don’t know, I cried in some parts

Read on AO3

It has been a whole two weeks after the whole ordeal with Patton’s parents and everything was back to normal. Normal in the Sanders household seems to mean waking up to early screaming, plates crashing, Declan yelling at Remy to get off of him once dropped off, Virgil needing to get away from all the noise, Roman reciting Shakespeare, and Logan bossing his brothers around?

Then yeah, everything was normal.

Patton did love his children, oh he very much did, but a house full of hormonal teenage boys is something to make one pull their hair out.

Logan watched fondly as his father figure ran around with Roman, who was carrying a screaming Declan like a bride. He looked over at his younger adopted sibling, who was filming the whole encounter and laughing. It was a normal day at the house, a normal weekend where they can all just relax and not worry about the outside world. Logan sighed, content with his life.

There were times where he loves his siblings, where he loves Patton and was glad he was adopted by him and not another parent. He was content with how he was able to push himself to be at the top of his class, always proud of himself with Patton congratulated him for getting a high score or for being Student Council President.

However, there were days where he missed his parents. He missed the soft kisses his mother would plant on his forehead, how his father picked him up over his head and pretended Logan was an astronaut. He missed the days where even when his parents came home tired, beaten and just wanting to sleep, they always tucked in Logan and read him bedtime stories. Logan held those memories close to him, he cherished every memory of his parents.

“Mommy! Look!”

Logan ran over to his mother, who was cooking dinner, holding up a badly drawn picture of a rocket with an astronaut nearby.

“Oh, sweetie! This is amazing!” His mother said in awe, lowering the flames and kneeled to his height, “Well, look at those details. The rocket looks so colorful, and is this you?” She asks as she points at the astronaut.

“Yeah!” Logan replies excitedly, still bouncing and looked at her, eyes full of energy and pride.

“Well, seems like we need to make sure you go to space school once you’re older,” His mom smiles and kisses his forehead, standing up and hanging it up on the fridge.

Logan watched excitedly and ran back to his room, staring how the window as the sun was starting to set. He started to imagine how it must look from high up in space.

Logan snapped back to reality as his name was called on, now face-to-face with a concerned Patton, who was sitting next to him.

“My apologies seems like I was daydreaming,” Logan apologizes, sitting up to stretch, his book falling to the floor.

“Oh, okay. I was worried as you started crying,” Patton explains as he picks up his book.

Logan touches his cheek and sure enough, it was wet with tears. He wiped them quickly and took back his book, giving Patton small smile.

“Probably just one of those moments where one cries so suddenly for no reason,” Logan shrugs and clears his throat, “If you excuse me, I have some homework to do that is due Monday.”

Logan gets up quickly and leaves before Patton can comment, taking two steps at a time to get there quickly. Once he was in his room, he locked the door and took a seat near his desk. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, remembering where each constellation was at, even during the day when you couldn’t see it. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“See those stars over there?”

“Yeah?”

“Those form what is called a constellation,” His father explains, smiling down at Logan.

“What is a co-con-conte-contellation?” Logan tries sounding out, pouting as he knew he said it wrong.

“Well, a constellation,” His father chuckles and looks up, “they are a group of stars that come together to form outlines. Basically, they form shapes that many years ago, some very smart people gave them names.”

“Wow…” Logan dragged out, looking up at the star-filled sky, “What is that?” He asks, pointing at one.

“That is called Sagitta,” His father points out and smiles, “It’s so simple but very beautiful.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Lolo?”

“I like stars.”

“So do I. So do I.”

Logan didn’t even know he was crying once more, not until he felt his tears go past his lips. He opened his eyes and let out a shaky sigh, letting his tears come out. He leaned forward, elbows now on his knees as he cried.

He missed his nights stargazing with his father. He missed the nights where he would camp out with his parents in the backyard and he would run around trying to catch a firefly. He missed the special dinners made when he would get a gold star for something as small as sharing. He missed the kisses. He missed the hugs.

He missed his parents most of all.

He missed his mother. He missed his father.

He missed his family.

Logan let out a heart-wrenching sob, covering his mouth as he sobbed. He didn’t want anyone to hear him, didn’t want to worry Patton. He honestly didn’t even want comfort at the moment. He just wanted to grieve by himself. Logan sobbed, letting the tears come down, not even bothering to wipe them.

From outside, Patton could hear him and it broke his heart to hear Logan like this. He knew he could never replace Logan’s father, having read up on who he was and how much he loved his only son. His mother was the same, she adored Logan with her whole being and would jump in front of a bullet for Logan. They were good people, taken early because of a reckless driver, leaving Logan an orphan.

Patton knows when Logan is like this, to not bother him. Last time he did, it ended with more people in tears and harsh words thrown around.

Patton sighs and knocks gently, however, leaning his forehead against his door, “Hey Logan, if you need me, I’m outside buddy. I’ll wait for you to come out. Just remember, you’re not alone,” He says in a gentle tone.

Logan sobs even harder, feeling so many emotions at once. He felt pure hatred towards the person who took his parents, empty without his parents, guilt for pushing away Patton and seeming ungrateful.

He just wanted to be held right now, wanted someone to stroke back his hair, wanted to cry on someone’s shoulder. All that could be done with someone, and that someone was outside the door. He got up, walking to the door, opening it and stared at Patton.

Patton stared at him, eyes filled with worry. Logan covered his mouth as a sob came out, laying his head on Patton’s shoulder and cried. Patton wrapped his arms around him, holding him close as they walked into Logan’s room.

“Oh Logan,” Patton whispers and kisses his forehead, rubbing his back.

“I-I…” Logan tries to talk, but he couldn’t form any words at the moment. The sadness was there, along with a twinge of anger.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Patton assures him, “We can just stand here and you can cry.”

Logan nods and holds onto Patton, crying on his shoulder. Patton just let him, running his hand through Logan’s hair, slowly and gently. They stood there for what seemed like a good while, until Logan stopped crying, tears having run dry.

“I miss my mom and dad,” Logan finally speaks, voice cracked.

“I know, Lo,” Patton sighs and looks down at him, “I know you do. They were amazing parents.”

“My dad loved stars,” Logan whimpers, “My mom loved flowers. They saw the beauty in such simple things that people take for granted,” He looks up at Patton, who was seemed to have tears of his own, “They worked...worked so hard to make me happy, no matter how little we had.”

“I know,” Patton smiles softly, wiping away small tears from Logan’s face, “I read about them in your file. Family members of yours only said positive things. They loved, love, you with all their heart.”

“I know you have given me nothing but love and care,” Logan tells him, backing away and sighs shakily, “and I feel so guilty when I think back and wish how I was with them instead.”

“You have nothing to feel guilty about,” Patton insisted, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Yes, it might hurt me at times, but Logan, they were your parents. You will want to be with them, you will want them to hug you and comfort you more than anyone else. You have nothing, absolutely nothing, to feel guilty about.”

Logan looks back at him, a small chuckle escaping him, soon laughing and shaking his head. Patton chuckled awkwardly at Logan’s sudden outburst but gave a small ‘oof’ as he was suddenly hugged. Patton hums and hugs Logan, looking at him.

“How do you always know how to comfort us?”

“I’m a counselor at the Juvenile Center,” Patton chuckles and grins, “also, because I am a parent. One day you’ll understand, but it is my job to make sure all my children are happy, and that they know that I am always here for them.”

“Thank you, Pat,” Logan whispers, nuzzling his face into his chest.

“There is no need to thank me, Lo,” Patton laughed, ruffling his hair.

“Hey!” Logan laughed and pulled away, trying to fix his hair.

Logan giggled and laughed happily as his father picked him up and carried him around like an astronaut in their lawn, making rocket noises. His mother was tending to her small flower bed, watching over fondly at her two favorite boys.

“Daddy! Higher!” Logan laughed, making sure his helmet stayed on.

“Roger that, Commander Logan,” His father said in a much deeper voice, holding him as high as he could.

“To the moon!”

“Roger!”

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