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As soon as Simon realizes that that definitely is a person poking its head out from behind the church, he books it.
It’s probably the fastest he’s ever ran in his entire life. Except maybe that one time in the fourth grade when he like, really pissed off Michael K. and had to run from the schoolyard all the way home.
This time though, he’s running from some creature in this weird messed up scar and not from some asshole fourth grade bullies chasing him for being too weird.
This time, Simon can actually die.
It’s dark and murky and with his heartbeat thudding in his ears from the fear it makes it all too hard to tell where he’s even going and in his haste to follow the calls of his name, he trips.
As quickly as Simon makes contact with the weak step, his foot falls through and he loses his balance. Rolling down century old steps is definitely an one way ticket in getting splinters, but that’s little concern to him right now as he skirts across the wood.
The wind is knocked out of Simon as quickly as he slams into the ground and he chokes out his breath, barely aware of how the skin on his palms burns and how the ache on his cheek will surely bruise. For now he focuses on breathing, curling in on his hurting self as he sucks in air greedily.
Between the ringing in his ears and the distant worried calls of Wally, Simon barely notices the chilling wetness creeping up his pants leg until it’s too late.
A short yank is all the warning Simon gets before hands — small yet strong ones — grasp at his shoes and ankles. Their bruisingly possessive grip already begins to drag him into a pool of murky water before Simon can even begin to get his wits about him. Digging his blunt nails into the wood, he kicks and jerks with all his might.
Swinging a hand behind him to search for something — anything, to use and hit them. And at the feeling of cold metal on his fingertips Simon is quick to grab it and bring it down on the hands as hard as he can, but they barely react and if anything, pull him further.
“Wally - Fuck, Wally!” Simon cries, object abandoned and instead turning as far as he can, desperately grappling for purchase on the slippery wood as the water creeps up his thighs. “Wally, help please!”
Goosebumps dance across his skin as his legs are fully submerged into the cold, tears are pin pricking at the corners of his eyes and he can feel his fingertips ripping with how desperately he is digging into the wood.
Now it’s up to his waist, then as quickly as he tries to scream out again his chest in pulled under and he can’t breathe -
“Simon!”
Two pale hands grasp his and yank, jerking his nose above the water and he nearly lets go at the complete relief of seeing Wally — something he never thought he’d ever say.
Just as he tries to say something, though — smile, yell for Wally to get him out, anything — small fingers make home in his hair and his head is pulled backwards underwater at breakneck speed, literally.
The cold plunges through him and Simon chokes on the brutal rush of water burning his nostrils, he can hear a muffled yell as Wally’s hands tighten their own hold and pull hard enough that he can feel his bones twinge and he swears Wally is gonna dislocate something.
It almost feels like they're playing tug-of-war with his body and as Simon watches more and more of Wally’s arms get pulled in, a spike of panic shoots through him.
It’s not enough, Simon realizes, Wally’s gonna get pulled in.
Wally told them himself how terrible it was to be grabbed and dragged through this shit. About the tiny little violating hands and the freezing chill before it threw you to whatever — the guy was basically shuddering. It was entirely clear Wally wouldn’t ever want to go through it ever again, and Simon wasn’t going to be the one to put him through it again.
Simon wrenches his hands out of Wally’s grip and lets himself go.
Little fingers are digging their nails into his scalp and his skin, scratching and leaving indentations everywhere they can, they stick themselves into his eyes and prying open his mouth to force in water. Their fucking everywhere and won’t let go no matter how much he squirms and kicks and while the cold is quick to numb his insides, his lungs are absolutely burning with how strongly he’s trying to hold his breath and Simon is trying to push down the idea that he may actually die from this and he stuck here permanently.
That he’s going to be drowned and killed by creepy little children from underneath his high school because Simon just had to be too curious and now he will never graduate and go to Northwestern — or any college.
He’ll never see his parents or Maddie or Xavier or Nicole or Claire or anyone else. He’ll never watch horror movies or go to cons. And okay he’s panicking, Simon knows he shouldn’t panic because that’s like the worst thing to do while drowning but now his lungs are screaming for release and he can’t hold his breath any longer and - and water is flooding down his throat no matter how hard he chokes and coughs.
Darkness is peaking in and Simon isn’t strong enough to fight back this time.
Simon has no idea how long he was out, but when he comes to it’s to an ache in his chest and water spewing out his mouth.
“Oh - Shit! Uh, there you go, just, get it all out.”
By the time he’s done, the ache has turned into a burning stabbing that has Simon wheezing and easing onto the tile floor. The exhaustion has him closing his eyes against the bright lights until a sudden shake jerks him.
“Simon! Don’t go to sleep, man!”
At the persistent shaking, Simon reluctantly pries open his eyes to the pale face of Wally nearly nose to nose with him. Glancing to the side reveals a disgruntled looking Charley — who was probably pushed out of the way, and Rhonda — giving a look that he can barely decipher with his water-trodden mind.
“Calm down, Moose, you're gonna give him a concussion at this rate.”
“‘Calm down’? He just drowned Rhonda, I can't just let him go to the light!”
Simon takes a moment with the bickering to take stock of his body; his ribs hurt like hell and anytime Simon moves a persistent stabbing sensation makes him grit his teeth, his lungs are sore to hell and he keeps wheezing but that’s probably just a side effect from drowning, and he’s absolutely frozen and soaked to the bone. Which isn’t helped from the fact Simon is laying in a puddle of water in the middle of the cafeteria, if the round tables and tiles said anything. Especially with a sudden chill running through his body, he just wants to lay down.
But Wally’s hands are still gripping at his soaked shoulders, and with shaking hands he attempts to pry his fingers off to no avail.
It’s only when Charley pries his wide eyes away from the others and notices that he finally interrupts them, “Oh my god guys there is no way you're arguing right now. Wally, put Simon down for god's sake!”
Wally, looking only a little taken aback, quickly eases Simon into a sitting position.
At the movement, he grimaces before quickly biting onto his lip to hide it but of course, Wally notices, “Shit, are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing,” Simon rasps.
“‘Nothing’ my ass, did they hurt you?”
“I’d rather.. talk about this while actually sitting, thank you.”
With a huff, Wally — much slower, which Simon both internally thanks and grumbles about being treated like glass — manages to sit him up against a cafeteria table and with everyone else settling next to him and away from the water.
Simon’s teeth have made permanent home biting his lip while a hand cradles his ribs, something the others are quick to notice.
“Oh shit, you must be sore from the CPR.”
“CPR?…”
“I’m so sorry, it was just,” Charley pauses, glancing downwards, “Simon, you weren’t breathing. Like, at all, you could have died for real if we didn’t get here in time.”
Charley’s words hang in the tense air and Simon does not want to be the one to confront it. Confront them, especially on risking his life for answers even after their repeated warnings.
“I thought I’d find something,” Simon wheezes, picking at the loose thread of his jacket. “Something to help me get out of here.”
“You can’t be risking your life trying to escape, Simon.”
“I can’t just be stuck here forever either.”
A shared look between the three has Rhonda leaning forward. They hadn’t talked much since she offered him a tour, though Simon sort of wishes they did, they seemed to have the same sort of attitude about things.
“Look, we want you to get out of here. And we, of all people, get it. But you’re not getting anywhere if you end up killing yourself,” she punctuates the words with a pointed look, “We’ll find a way, so don’t be so blockheaded that you’ll risk your life while trying to save yourself.”
Simon bites his lip, “If I can’t save myself, who will?”
“Maddie, us, the rest of the living, literally anyone but you who can’t die?” Charley jumps in, “Just take a step back, Simon.”
“Then… what should I do?”
“Probably get out of those clothes, for starters.” Wally muses with a raised brow.
And he’s probably right. Halfway through this little talk Simon started to shiver, and now that he noticed it’s only gotten worse, especially with his general achy-ness.
“You guys.. really - really don’t have to.”
“Yeah,” Wally huffs, getting up, “But we wanna so just let it happen.”
“…Fine,” The words draw out reluctantly and almost painfully with how his ribs are doing. “Just be careful.”
“We’ll be the most careful, princess, now come on.”
The journey from the cafeteria all the way to the library, which seems to be their base of operations at this point, is one not without pain. Halfway through Simon went from insisting he needed absolutely no assistance to very much leaning all his weight on a very smug Wally — which by the way, fuck you very much Wally.
They meet with a very worried Yuri and Quinn, who are quickly sent off to look for blankets, towels and clothes as Simon is eased onto the sofa.
“Clothes? Won't they just reset?”
“Maybe. But better get you out of these before you get ghost hypothermia.” Charley muses, helping him take off his soggy jacket at an achingly slow pace thanks to Simon’s ribs.
For now, it’s just them, with Rhonda and Wally also sent off to look for ice packs, it doesn’t seem like a two person job really but seeing as how the both of them looked ready to be bouncing off the walls Simon doesn’t say anything.
Once they finally get off both his jacket and shirt, Simon finally takes a look at his chest which makes him feel only faintly sick. A dark circular bruise lies both in the middle of his chest and side, pinpointing where the CPR was done like a target.
At the sigh Charley winces, his mouth opening and closing like he’s trying to come up with words but the doors are thrown back open before he can get any out.
Yuri unceremoniously dumps a towel on top of Simon’s soaking wet hair and the rest beside him, grabbing one to put around his shoulders. Simon huffs and reaches up to dry off his hair but is stopped from raising his arms by a throb in his chest. Yuri, without a word, is quick to do it for him while Charley uses the one around his shoulders to dry the rest of him.
It’s, weird, to say the least. Letting himself be taken care of and he can’t help but stay rigid through it all.
Until Quinn suddenly drops what looks like the entirety of the school store’s merch on the floor in front of him and with a shy smile asks, “Help me choose something for you? I don’t really know your preferences.”
Simon blinks before leaning forward ever so slightly to pick through the pile with them and the air seems to settle, entering a moment of relative domesticness with the sounds of clothing sorting and towels drying him down. By the end of it Simon is entirely dry and sporting some baggy sweatpants and hoodie, he’s sure his curls are a huge mess based on the cheeky glance Yuri and Quinn give to his head but he could care less.
It only takes another minute for Wally and Rhonda to enter with not only an ice pack, but what looks like an old rolling TV from one of the classrooms. Simon assumes his confusion was clear based on Rhonda clarifying, “We thought maybe we could all relax and watch something, take our minds off things.”
“A movie night!” Wally grins, dropping down besides Simon with an ice pack in one hand and a collection of movie CDs in the other. “Okay so I know your an emo horror fan or whatever and probably never watched anything else in your life -“
“I’m not -“
“Shhh, don’t worry your precious little curly head, Simon.” He shushes, pressing the ice pack to Simon’s chest. “I will educate you on the beauty of the classic, Rudy.”
Groans sprout out across the room as everyone gets their seats and the TV is set up; Rhonda and Quinn lay on top each other against the couch while Yuri sits atop the armrest of the couch besides Charley and Wally does not seem to be moving from his side anytime soon. Blanket and pillows Simon didn’t even notice being brought in and laid about, with one blanket being thrown over him by Wally as he continues sprouting something about underdogs or something like that. Rhonda’s back rests against his leg and Quinn fiddles with his shoe laces and Charley’s shoe nudges against his thigh and Yuri’s fingertips graze his shoulder from where his arm rests across the couch and Wally’s shoulder against his makes it all feel almost … comfortable.
Simon breathes in, slowly relaxing into their touches and leaning back against the couch. He tucks the blanket up to his shoulders and then softly rests the ice pack against his ribs and breathes out.
“Ready?” Wally nudges his shoulder against his, remote in hand and eyes imploring.
“Yeah,” Simon huffs, giving a nudge back out of petulance, “This better be good.”
“Only the best, man.”