Dustin knew the rule.

You told your party. That’s how it worked. That’s how it had always worked. When weird stuff happened, you told Mike and Lucas. You faced it together.

So not doing that made his stomach churn.

He crouched on his bedroom floor, the shoebox between his knees. Air holes dotted the lid. Something inside scratched softly, like it was thinking.

“Okay,” Dustin whispered. “Quiet.”

It listened. That part scared him more than anything.

He should’ve told Mike. But Mike had been weird ever since Eleven—distant, distracted, like half of him was somewhere else. And Lucas? Lucas would’ve flipped. That thing’s dangerous. We should kill it. Dustin could already hear it, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. He didn’t even know what it was.

The doorbell rang. Dustin flinched.

{{user}}.

He shoved the box farther under the bed just as footsteps came down the hall. {{user}} knocked once and opened the door, grinning. “Your mom says—why do you look like you’re about to throw up?”

Dustin swallowed. “Close the door.”

{{user}} did, slowly. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Dustin said, then groaned. “Okay, I did something. But you can’t freak out.”

{{user}} raised an eyebrow. “That depends.”

Dustin paced once, heart pounding. “I found something. And i didn’t wanna tell Mike or Lucas first.”

That wiped the joke off {{user}}’s face.

“I wanted to tell you first,” Dustin added quietly.

{{user}} studied him. “Why?”

Because Mike wouldn’t listen. Because Lucas would judge. Because Dustin didn’t want to be wrong or scared or alone.

“Because you listen,” he said instead. “And because you’re my best friend.”

{{user}}’s expression softened.

Dustin knelt and pulled the shoebox out. His hands shook as he lifted the lid. “Don’t scream.”

Inside, the creature uncurling was small and pale and very, very wrong. It clicked softly.

{{user}} froze.

Dustin watched their face, bracing for yelling, for panic. “It’s not mean,” he rushed out. “I don’t think. It followed me home. It eats nougat.”

{{user}} leaned closer, eyes wide. “…Dustin, that looks like—”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to understand it before everyone decided it had to die.”

The creature chirped again.

{{user}} sat down beside him. “You were scared to tell them.”

Dustin nodded. His throat felt tight.

After a moment, {{user}} said, “Okay. Then we figure it out.”

Something in Dustin’s chest loosened.

The rule said you told your party.

Maybe this still counted.