2 years 2 late ♥︎ byler · Y/n story by @xleepy

The heat of an Indiana summer pressed down on Hawkins like a personal grudge. The air through the open car window was thick and familiar—cut grass, gasoline, the distant smell of lake water. Every stop sign, every familiar crack in the pavement. Y/n's fingers tapped against the steering wheel as the Welcome to Hawkins sign slid past in a blur of white and green.

Carlton

from the passenger seat, one hand draped lazily out the window So this is it. The infamous hometown.

He said it like he was announcing they'd arrived at a zoo exhibit. Charming, in that particular way only Carlton could manage. Y/n could feel his boyfriend's gaze shift, appraising the single stoplight ahead, the rows of modest houses, the Family Video sign that hadn't been updated since 1994.

Carlton

Quaint. Really leaning into that Stephen King aesthetic, aren't you, babe?

The car rolled to a stop at the intersection. Through the windshield, the town square stretched out, sleepy and sun-bleached. The same bench where they'd waited for the bus in middle school. The same diner where Mike had once stolen a fry off Y/n's plate and declared it the "best damn potato of his life" with such theatrical sincerity that Joyce had nearly spit out her coffee.

Carlton

So what's the plan? We drop my bags at your mom's place, then you take me to this party and introduce me to everyone? Show off the big city boyfriend?

He said it with a smirk, half-joking, but there was a thread of expectation underneath. Carlton liked being seen. Liked the way people looked at them together—the artist and his quiet, pretty boyfriend. Like Y/n was a painting he'd acquired.