Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air in Hawkins was clear, clearer than it had been in a long time. Vecna was dead, the Upside Down dead with him. Gone was the heavy red haze, the stink of rot and ominous specs suspended in the air. And yet for Will, it had never been harder to breathe.

Every breath felt like sucking in glass, cutting up his lungs and leaving the taste of blood in his throat. Will felt like he was surrounded by thick honey, each step an effort, each inhale a challenge. He found himself squinting when he looked into the now blue sky, stumbling when he stood too quickly.

Will was sick. The kind of sick where you couldn’t just take a pill and be on your merry way. He was sick, and he wasn’t going to get better.

But it was alright, he supposed. Will was alive. He was breathing, no matter how much pain it caused him. They had made it to the end of the battle. His friends were safe. His family was together again, in the town they had so desperately tried to escape. Even Hawkins was rebuilding, coming alive in a way Will isn't sure it ever really was before. His town was healing, and Will just might live long enough to watch it thrive.

-

When Will first started noticing things were wrong, it didn’t even cross his mind to tell anyone. The Party and co. had just defeated Vecna, fighting an all-out battle for their lives and the town.

Sure, Will’s body hurt and his head ached, but whose didn’t? Everyone was hurting in the aftermath, and Will’s pain was nothing compared to some of the other scrapes the others had come out with.

Lucas had a thick scar running along his chest, Steve had broken his ribs being thrown into a tree, and El had over-used her powers so much she couldn’t see, her eyes so full of blood. Max was still in a god-damned coma after getting her limbs snapped. Eddie was dead.

So no, Will didn’t think it was necessary to mention the way his skin stung against the fabric of his clothing and eyes watered in the sunlight.

Will partly thought his state was due to his and his family’s temporary living conditions. Joyce had announced, to El and Jonathan’s delight, that the Byers family would be moving back to Hawkins. Permanently, this time.

Will hadn’t been surprised. Not one of them had really been happy in Lenora, and now they all had someone pulling them back to Hawkins. Joyce had Hopper, Jonathan had Nancy, and El had Mike. Will shrugged off his obvious lack of ties. He wasn’t exactly happy in Lenora either, he supposed.

Yet the abrupt decision to move had presented an entirely foreseeable problem; they had no house. Their old one, the house he had grown up in, was long gone, and Will couldn't realistically see a way of them getting it back any time soon. So, while Joyce and Hopper searched for a house, the newly formed Hopper-Byers clan assumed residency in Hopper's old cabin in the woods.

This staged numerous challenges for Will. Firstly, the house had been through the wringer with Upside Down related events. The continuous hasty repairs over the years had piled up, leading to Will's second point. The already falling apart structure had been left in the forest for over a year now without any maintenance, fighting and losing against the elements. What they were left with was half-rotted wood balanced above them, dripping with rainwater and infested with insects and other smaller wildlife.

Will's last problem was the sleeping arrangements. He had heard from El that she and Hopper living here together for a year had been quite a squeeze, never enough room for the two of them. Well, now Will could relate, with the total number of five people in the two-roomed cabin. Joyce and Hopper took one room of course, with El reclaiming her old bed. Jonathan had scored the couch, much to Will’s grumbling. Will usually heard him leave during the night anyway, likely sneaking off to go see Nancy.

Will had ended up on the floor of El's room, with nothing but a hard wooden floor below him slightly cushioned by a thin, worn-out sleeping bag.

So, was Will comfortable? No, most definitely not. But he had a place to stay, which was a lot more than a good portion of Hawkins residents could say. When the Upside Down invaded the Right-side Up, it wreaked the town with earthquakes. Whole sections were reduced to piles of rubble, the streets were flooding with emergency services and military, and half the population seemed to need medical attention.

So, Will pulled his (mouldy smelling) blanket higher around his shoulders gratefully.

-

Will had thought his day had been bad when he had woken with a headache pounding away behind his temples, but he quickly found that it could get so much worse. Hopper and Joyce were out searching for a house while Jonathan had run off in the early morning, abandoning Will to his doom with an amused, if slightly apologetic smile.

Will’s doom being El and Mike, of course, who were sitting on the couch in the cabin, making out. Will watched them with thinly veiled disgust, unsure how to get out of the situation. The place was so tiny, where could he even pretend to escape to? He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face before announcing himself to them past the lump in his throat.

“Hey guys!” Will interrupted with false cheer. They split apart for a second, taking deep gasping breaths that had Will subtly rolling his eyes.

“Will,” El greeted, before turning back to the silent Mike.

After a brief kiss, she paused and again turned away from Mike to face Will. Mike groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch in frustration.

“We are going to the shelter later. You should come.”

At El’s words, Mike let out another little huff while his face twisted up. It wasn’t obvious at all, but Will, who spent far too much time watching Mike Wheeler, noticed every movement.

Will smiled tightly at El, swallowing thickly and blinking fast. “Yeah, sure El, that sounds great.”

Will quickly turned away, but not quick enough to miss El and Mike leaping upon each other. He slid into the kitchen, popping a painkiller before moving to press his forehead against the cool door of the fridge, hoping to soothe his raging headache.

It had been like this ever since they had moved into the Hawkins. Mike was a near-constant presence in the cabin, always with El glued to his side or his lap. They made out in the kitchen, at the table, on the couch, in the bedroom. Will would spend days in the cabin with his best friend and sister without ever being acknowledged, without ever being even looked at.

Hearing them in the next room, part of Will had to wonder if they were doing it on purpose. Sometimes Will would swear he could feel Mike looking at him, only to turn a find Mike’s gaze fixed on El. Or they would just be laying on the couch together, but as soon as Will would walk past they’d suddenly be making out with such passion it put the summer of ‘85 to shame.

It was stupid, and there was no reason for either of them to be cruel like that. Will turned so that his back was now pressed against the fridge, taking deep breaths. He's not sure how long he stood there, breathing in and out, waiting for the medicine to kick in. It was long enough that Mike and El probably should have noticed, should have come in and made sure everything was alright. They didn't.

Will heard El’s voice call out to him after some time passed. “Will! We’re leaving, hurry up if you want to come!”

Will pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes until they ached. His headache had not subsided in the slightest, and Will had a feeling it wouldn’t for a long while. He leaned his head back, blinking away the spots and stars, before responding quietly.

“Right behind you.”

-

Will entered the shelter a few steps behind his friends, a position he found himself in often these days. He trudged after El and Mike through the heat of the early summer, watching as they walked hand-in-hand despite the temperature.

It had been cold when Vecna broke their world. The ice of the Upside Down had stolen the warmth of the sun. But with his death, the heat had returned, harsher than ever.

Will had hated the cold, even before he was stolen away to the Upside Down, but the heat was not a good look on him. He didn’t have a bike anymore, and the hike from the cabin paired with his lack of exercise clearly had an effect by the time they reached the shelter. He was flushed in an unfit, freshly sunburnt kind of way, and dripping with so much sweat the poor shirt Hopper had lent his was beginning to look damp.

The shelter was set up in the old school gym across town, the hardwood floors nearly completely covered in a clutter of tables and boxes. They created a maze, where poorly designed sections provided poorly executed services. A large chunk of the space was occupied by the now mostly awake residents; the people who were caught in the crossfire of the war against the Upside Down.

Though Will was eager to escape the summer outside, the gym quickly demonstrated its own brand of pains. It was packed with people, both the residents and volunteers moving around in a constant, unpredictable flow. The incoherent chatter made Will’s headache pulse madly, escalating to a ringing in his ear. He desperately wanted to sit down and searched anxiously for wherever Dustin had set himself up.

Not a moment too late, Mike pointed through the room to a singular hand. Dustin stood as tall as he could, signally wildly to the trio. Mike tightened his grip on El’s hand and began to lead her smoothly through the crowd, leaving Will to grit his teeth and attempt to push after them.

“Lucas, man! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Mike's voice had Will's head snapping up when he finally stumbled into the small area Dustin had claimed. Lucas sat at Dustin's feet, dutifully folding away at the massive pile of clothes in front of him. He smiled up at Mike and El.

“Yeah, the hospital kicked me out of Max’s room for a bit. Got to do some tests and whatever, you know?”

"Right," Mike responded compassionately. Will felt his chest squeeze at the tone. Mike hadn't even looked at Will in days, let alone spoken to him. And yet here he was, excited to see Dustin and speaking so warmly to Lucas. Was it just Will then?

“Well, I’m glad you’re here at least,” Mike continued. “What are we assigned today?”

“The great honour of sorting through donated shit,” Dustin explained with of flourish of his hands. He fell dramatically onto his spot on the floor next to Lucas, chattering away as Mike and El sat and closed the circle.

Will stood awkwardly, unsure if to sit on the outside or simply go find something else to do. His saving grace was Lucas.

“Byers, man, you look like shit,” Lucas called out to him with a low whistle. He shuffled until a small space opened up between him and El, which Will gladly slipped into. 

"Could say the same to you," Will responded jokingly. And though the tone was unserious, it was true. Lucas' hair was a tangled mess, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes rumpled. He had been spending every waking moment he could at Max’s bedside, and Will could tell he was irritable about being kicked out. Will was happy to see him though. He missed his friends.

Dustin’s loud laugh drew Will back to the rest of the group. He was smiling widely, his head thrown back and laugh a bit too loud. Will squinted at the bags under his eyes, at the slight stubble which Dustin either forgot or hadn’t been bothered to shave.

“And then there was that time he jumped up onto the table! Do you remember that? HA!” Dustin chuckled freely, his hand on Mike’s shoulder.

Mike laughed kindly. "Oh yeah, man! I totally thought it was going to break. He was jumping up and down and everything."

Will frowned in confusion. He glanced at El for clarification, but she wasn't looking at him, instead leaning her whole body against Mike's side. 

“Or that time he like sprinted away,” chimed Lucas, also grinning. “It was like in the middle of a campaign. I thought he was going to shit himself or something.”

Dustin hollered at that, gaining a few side-eyes from people walking past.

“Oh God, I remember that!” Dustin said after catching his breath. “But then when Eddie came back, he pretended like it was all part of the plan. I called bullshit then and I call it now!”

Ah, now Will understood. He hadn't known much about Eddie, only little comments from Dustin's few phone calls. Will had mostly learned about him after he died. He knew Eddie played DnD, and that his friends worshipped him, especially Dustin. Will didn't have to think hard about what was keeping Dustin up at night. He had been a mess when Eddie died.

“And that one campaign, the one with the frozen ocean? That one was amazing.”

Dustin's eyes swept around the group, from Mike and El, to Lucas, and finally pausing on Will. Will smiled crookedly, unsure how to react. He could have sworn he saw a flash of anger or envy in his eyes before Dustin moved on from him completely.

God, Will needed to go back to bed. The conversation moved on around him as he closed his eyes to try to offset the throbbing in his brain. Why did every day in this town feel like a nightmare?

Eventually Will regained some effort to open his eyes, and began to fold the nearly untouched pile between them all. He didn’t bother zoning back into the conversation. He doubted they’d include him anyway.

Hours passed in a similar fashion; Will silently sorted clothes to the sound of his chattering friends while they absentmindedly folded. Whenever the pile began to look manageable, some other volunteer would walk past and promptly dump another box or two of clothes between them.

It took Will an embarrassingly long amount of time to pick up on the subtle happenings around him. In his defence, he had mainly been zoned out, in a steady motion of grab, scan for holes or stains, fold, pile, and repeat. It wasn’t until he left the circle some hours later to use the bathroom that he finally noticed the people around the shelter.

They had certainly noticed him though.

Will kept his head down as he wove through the volunteers, feeling the stares of everyone around him. Whispers broke out as he walked past, eyes narrowed at his approach. A good portion of the shelter seemed to be monitoring him, or watching him darkly out of the corner of their eyes.

He finally reached the line for the toilet, and let out a sigh of relief, relaxing back into the wall outside. A mistake, as a man dressed in poorly fitted clothes took the opportunity to shoulder Will on his way past.

The shove caused Will to crumble sideways, catching himself with a hiss on his elbow to break his fall. He looked up at the man, confused. The hit could have been accidental, he supposed, just an unavoidable collision in a busy space.

The man looked down at Will, face unattractively scrunched up and scowling, squashing any hopes that this was an accident.

“Fucking Zombie Boy,” he spat. “Should’ve stayed dead.”

Will remained where he had fallen on the floor, stunned. He knew the town hadn’t liked him, but this was the first time an adult had gone out of their way to bother him directly. He shook his head, unsteadily standing up and brushing himself off.

The Party hadn’t noticed his absence and didn't seem to take any stock of his rumpled clothes and shaken expression. Will sat, making himself as small as possible as he quietly and quickly sorted. All the anger and blame and resentment around him was suddenly sharpened into focus, and Will felt his shoulders curl.

Will had only just gotten back to Hawkins, and he had never wanted to leave more.

-

It hadn’t taken his mom and Hopper long to find a house. Everyone seemed to want to leave Hawkins. Will couldn’t blame them. He would’ve left too, if he could.

The old lady who lived with her army of cats on the edge of town, Mrs. Warren, had apparently had enough of Hawkins and its unending tragedies. She had wanted to leave Hawkins as quickly and desperately as the Hopper-Byers coalition wanted a home. By the end of the week, Mrs. Warren had a nice wad of cash and a ride stuffed full of cats out of town, and Hopper held a signed stack of papers and keys to the front door.

El lay sprawled across Will's bed in the afternoon sunlight as he sat on the floor, unloading boxes delivered from Lenora.

“We finally have our own rooms, and yet you’re spending all your time in mine.”

El smiled toothily at Will from her position partially hanging off the edge upside down, her short hair dangling below her.

“Mike’s busy, and if I go into my room I have to unpack,” El confided. “I’d much rather bother you.”

Will rolled his eyes, reaching over to shove El's shoulder. The movement jostled her into sliding off the bed in a heap, landing with a high-pitched squeal. He cackled as she twisted, red-faced, to kick out at him. Will yelped, trying to catch her foot to drag her closer and stop the hits from landing.

It inevitably descended into a wrestling match. Will would have liked to blame his obvious loss on El having superpowers, but alas she refrained, only beating him up classically. At one point she got him with his arm twisted at an angle behind him. His joints had been rather stiff lately, and the twist shot a sharp pain down the length of his arm. Will yelped, banging his other hand against the floor in surrender.

Not a moment after El had released him, Will’s door was slammed open with a bang. Both El and Will jumped, tensing, the instinct from the battle not entirely past them.

“Will! What’s wrong?” Joyce’s panicky voice filled the room. She stood in the doorway, scanning the space frantically for any lurking threat. After a few seconds, a confused Hopper appeared behind her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I heard you scream, are you alright?”

Finding no threats in the room, she moved to crouch in front of Will, hands frantically fluttering over him, searching for an injury. Will glanced at El for help, but she just looked down with a guilty expression.

"No Mom," Will replied gently, letting her finish her check. "I'm fine. El's and I were just… playing. My arm just got in a weird position. It's nothing."

El nodded as Joyce took a few deep, shaky breaths in.

“You’re sure?” Joyce asked gently. Her eyes were staring into Will’s, who balked at the intensity. “If you feel anything, hurt or Upside Down related, you tell me. Right?”

Will looked to Hopper in the doorway desperately. Hopper began to move forward, hands landing softly on Joyce's shoulders.

“Yeah Mom, of course.”

Joyce nodded quickly, swallowing a few times. Hopper pulled her up and guided her out of the room, though she still casted glances at Will.

“O-okay honey,” she said. “You two, uh, have fun then.”

She continued to watch Will, worrying her lip, until Hopper closed the door between them.

Will turned to look at El with raised eyebrows.

“That was…” Will paused to find the words. “Something?”

“I'm sorry,” El whispered.

“No, El,” Will said quickly, straightening up to look at her fully. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I hurt you.”

“You really didn’t,” Will said truthfully, shaking his head. “I don’t know why Mom acted like that. She’s never been so- so frantic like that before.”

El looked down at the ground before standing and giving a stretch that looked far too forced. “I might leave now.”

“El,” Will pleaded. “You don’t have to leave. I didn’t mean it about you bothering me earlier. I like having you around.”

El smiled at that, though smaller than it had been before. “Me too. But it’s okay. I’m going to go see Mike.”

“I thought you said he was busy?” said Will quietly.

El shrugged, moving towards the door. “He might be done by now. I’ll wait for him.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

Will swallowed, before giving her a small wave. “Okay then. Stay safe.”

And with that, El left, taking the brief reprieve he had felt with her. He collapsed backward onto his floor. The carpet smelled of cats and cigarettes. Eventually, his thoughts drifted back to his mom’s earlier overreaction.

Will was experienced with overprotective Joyce, and usually, he found it justified, if annoying. He had had to suffer through a year of constant monitoring before it eased up into just near constant monitoring. But he had hoped that with Vecna’s death it would tamper off into nothing.

He rolled his head to look at the door. Something about this felt different. Joyce’s panic had seemed… frayed, hysterical almost. Will closed his eyes, taking in the stale scent. His breathing seemed to be shallower lately, his chest feeling tighter.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had moved fully across the room. Will layed in the near darkness for some time.

-

Will found it easy to slip away in the mornings. He'd been waking up early lately, his muffled coughing rousing him long before the sun began to rise. The only sound was the creaking floorboards as he floated through the quiet house.

In those early hours, Will often ended up at the quarry, legs dangling from the cliffs above as he watched the sun.

For a house Will had been so eager to have, he found it hard to stay there. Hopper and Joyce were only home in the evenings, and Jonathan usually only came for a quick change of clothes before leaving again.

El was usually off somewhere with Mike. She’d been coming home agitated lately. Will wondered if Mike had begun to ignore her as he ignored Will. He was surprised to find himself rather detached from the whole situation.

The quarry had been a welcome relief for Will. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be out in this far. No one in the town was really, till they had sorted everything out with the earthquakes. But no one had tried to stop him, so either he was sneakier than he had thought, or no one cared. Will figured it was the latter. 

He knew everyone hated the quarry since his fake body had been planted there. People of the town tended to avoid it. His mom's breath hitched whenever it was mentioned. Mike used to get this look, as though he was about to cry or throw up or both whenever they used to bike past the path leading to it.

But Will had never had a problem with the place, had never been fully able to associate it with the stories he had heard. To Will, it was simply a place where he could be alone, could dangle his feet off the edge and watch the water swaying far beneath him.

-

At night, through the blank walls of Will’s bedroom, he began to hear screams. It wasn’t that nightmares were uncommon in the Hopper-Byers household, rather the opposite was true, really. What shook Will was who the screams came from. Through the white walls from the next room over, were the screams of Joyce Byers.

Will had thought it would be a one-off, that his mom was having a bad day or something. But night after night, day after day, Will heard his mother scream like she was being murdered, sob like someone tore her heart out, and gasp for breath like she was drowning.

He watched from afar as she entered the kitchen every morning with bags under her eyes, watched as she stopped looking Will in the eye. She still smiled at him, still ruffled his hair and made him burnt eggs for breakfast.

But Will could how exhausted she looked, how her shoulders slumped. Sometimes he would catch her zoned out, staring lifelessly at nothing until Hopper gently whispered to her would she come out of it.

At night, when Will could hear her screaming, all he could do was turn over and press his hands to his ears.

-

The Party was split up upon entering the shelter, much to the groaning of all members but Will.

“I won't let them separate us,” Dustin said to Lucas, his tone dramatic and playful. He puffed out his chest, looking all the world like he was acting out a scene from a movie. “I worked too hard to find you! I won’t let you go this time.”

"Oh, Dusty-bun!" Lucas squealed in mock delight. "I knew you meant it when you said we would always be together!"

“Of course, my love,” Dustin said, voice dropping low and husky. “I swore-”

“All right folks,” the lady at the desk interrupted. “Move along, you’ve got jobs to do.”

Will rolled his eyes at their antics as everyone walked away. Lucas and Dustin were still casting longing glances over their shoulders, making El giggle.

Will had been assigned to the medical wing, for which he was thankful. The last few times they had been assigned to heavy lifting duties, including moving boxes, tables, and donated stuff that was in the way. It exhausted him, and Will always returned home to find his body littered with bruises despite him not being able to remember anything happening to warrant such a display.

He was quickly put to work sorting the supplies into take-home kits. From his position he could just see Lucas, who had his head down, speeding through whatever task he had been assigned with more effort than all the people around him combined.

Will didn’t throw himself into the work. He never really cared enough too really. Coming to the shelter was just something to do, something to get him out of the house and stop his mom from worrying.

But Lucas had been spending nearly all his free time here, Dustin too. They seemed desperate to do something, anything to keep their minds off the memories of the young man with his chest torn out and the young girl with her limbs snapped. Will found the day to move slow, but also fast in the same way. People around him dropped boxes a bit too loudly, almost trying to make him finch, or snatched the kits out of his hands with just a bit too much force.

He saw Dustin hurry to Lucas sometime around midday, signalling to him. After a brief exchange they both moved off, disappearing into the crowd. By the time the woman taped him on the shoulder and sent him off to lunch, Will gratefully slunk off to find his friends.

But Lucas never returned to his post, and he couldn't seem to find anyone else around the room. Will was headed towards where he knew El to be, buttering sandwiches by the door to the courtyard when he was interrupted by the very same Party he was looking for.

“Will!” El yelled, calling his attention. She stood with Mike beside her, not touching for once, with Dustin and Lucas lingering behind. Lucas waved and Dustin gave a lazy smile. Mike, as usual, didn’t look at him.

“Hey, are you guys going to lunch?”

It was Dustin who responded to Will’s question, voice light and unconcerned. “Nah man, just on our way back from it.”

“Oh,” Will said, brows furrowed slightly. “You… already had lunch? Together. All of you.”

“Yeah, you just missed it,” Lucas said easily. 

“Oh,” Will said again. He pressed his lips together, unsure whether to continue this conversation. After a moment, he opened his mouth again. “Why didn’t anyone come to get me?”

"It wasn't planned or anything," Mike said, defensive. "We just all happened to get off for lunch at the same time. It's not a big deal."

“…Right.” Will conceded weakly. Part of him was too surprised that Mike was even talking to him to come up with a better response. Mike hardly acknowledged him, yet Will felt a pathetic flutter in his stomach to even have his existence noticed. “I’ll just, go have lunch by myself then.”

“Okay,” El agreed easily. “We’ll see you later.”

Will watched as his friends walked as one back into the shelter, leaving him standing alone. He had seen Dustin cross the entire hall to get Lucas earlier, yet he couldn’t have walked a few more paces to get Will? Why? What had Will done?

Will felt himself sink a little, felt his emotions withdraw just a little deeper. He turned slowly, walking out of the gym and into the heat of the sun blaring down from above. He could hardly feel it.

- 

“Do you want to do something today?”

Will's voice cut through the silence of the morning. He and Jonathan were the only ones still at home due to the late hour. Jonathan, who was rummaging through the couch for his keys, paused to look at Will at the kitchen table. "Do what?"

“I dunno,” Will mumbled down into the half-eaten cereal in front of him. He hated how unsure his voice sounded. “Anything. We could go down to the record store, or maybe just watch a movie?”

“Aww,” Jonathan chuckled. “You still wanna go to the movies with your big brother? Aren’t you sweet.” 

Will smiled tightly. “Sure.”

Laughing, Jonathan continued to search for his keys. “Sorry kiddo, I can't today. Got some stuff to work through with Nancy, not to mention finding a job around here. Yikes.”

Jonathan shot Will an exaggerated look of exasperation, clearly expecting Will to laugh, or even a small smile. At Will's impassive stare, Jonathan finally dropped the act. He sighed, turning to face Will fully, hands on hips. He looked tired, as though the conversation was a nuisance. Will fought back a flinch at the treatment.

“Look Will, I'm sorry, I just can't today. I’ve got a lot of shit going on that I don’t want you to have to deal with. You should be going out, playing with your friends.” Jonathan looked to Will, who was desperately trying to school his expression to hide his hurt.

Jonathan sighed again, huffing, “We’ll do something tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

“You said that yesterday.”

Jonathan laughed dismissively, not catching the way Will’s face fell. Jonathan turned back to the couch to continue his rummaging, choosing not to respond till after he victoriously pulled his keys from between the cushions. After a moment, he pulled out his wallet and strode over to the table. He smirked a bit, before pouring out the coins into a messy pile. 

Will stared at the coins with confusion.

"There," Jonathan declared happily. "Go off to the arcade or something. Have fun, be a kid. I'll see you later." With a rough ruffle of Will's hair, he walked out of the house in a flourish of actively, leaving Will sitting still and alone.

He looked down at the coins blankly. Will found it a little odd, to be treated like a kid again. Some part of him still felt like a kid, he supposed. The part of him that missed his mom’s hugs and smiles, missed his brother’s mixtapes and reassurances. But he mostly felt so old, after everything he’d been through. He felt ancient. It sat like a blanket over him, snuffing any anger or sadness of the situation.

Will sighed, dumping his soggy cereal down the drain, and headed back to bed even though it was nearing the afternoon.

The pile of coins remained untouched on the kitchen table. 

-

When the nose bleeds started, Will knew he had to throw in the rag and acknowledge something was seriously wrong. He’s been brushing over every ache, every pain and discomfort away under the guise of ‘just a post-battle twinge’ or ‘it was simply from the stress of moving’.

But when he began to wake, morning after morning, with blood crusted under his nose and dried on his pillow, he finally called it for what it was.

Will wasn’t exactly a stranger to being ill. He’d been a sick kid, having spent much of his childhood in bed with a fever or in the hospital with pneumonia. His familiarity with the feeling was exactly why he could tell that this was different.

He sat at the quarry again, lying on the ground with only his feet sticking off the edge. The sky above him was beginning to lighten up with the rising sun. He bent one of his legs towards him, scraping the sole of his shoe against the dirt and stone. He winced at the way his muscles went taut in his calf. His head felt too heavy on his neck.

It had been gradual, creeping up on Will in the background, influencing him before he even began to recognise it for what it was. He wasn’t sure it’d matter if he had noticed it immediately. He didn’t think he would be walking away from this either way.

Will knew he was sick, but he just couldn’t seem to find it within himself to care. The forest was steady around him. The leaves rustled in the wind and small critters scrambled in the undergrowth. He should leave. But he doesn't.

-

Will had planned to tell his mom. It's not like he could keep his sickness under wraps forever, and even if he could, she's bound to notice when he suddenly dropped one day.

He spent the morning at the quarry as usual but came back to the house when the sky lifted from an inky black to a dusty grey.  He'd decided that the best way to break the news would be over Saturday breakfast, that way she would have the whole day to process it with Hopper at her side.

Will main problem with the plan was the actual cooking breakfast bit. By the time Will had made edible scrambled eggs on toast, he had four servings of blackened eggs shoved shamefully into the garbage, and a new understanding that if he ever moved out, he would be surviving solely on cereal and cups of noodles. He swore that he would never make fun of his mom’s cooking abilities ever again, as the lack of talent was clearly genetic.

Will stared at the breakfast before him, reluctant to move on to the next part of the plan.

Every time Will was in danger, every time he was hurt or kidnapped or upset, Joyce was always his first protector and advocate. She would and had gone through hell and back for her son. Will just wished he didn’t have to keep sending her there.

Will dragged his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. She had to know. He had to tell her.

The sun was well and truly up, and Will felt safe in assuming that Joyce and Hopper were awake and lazing in bed. He still walked down the hallway quietly, on the odd possibility that they were still asleep.

He paused in front of their door, head turned to listen for any noise inside. His brow furrowed at the low murmuring. It wasn’t the kind of talk Will expected for the time. Turning back, he spied a small gap in between the door and frame where it hadn’t shut completely.

Will manoeuvred himself carefully, hovering just so he could peak through the gap. It took a second to make out his mom, curled on her side and obscured beneath a pile of blankets. She didn’t seem to be moving. Will began to think that she was just still asleep, and began to back away.

However, the murmuring gave him pause. Moving closer to the gap, Will craned his neck to get a better angle into the rest of the room. There, kneeling on the floor by Joyce’s bedside, was Hopper.

Will strained his ears, desperate to hear what he was saying. 

“Come on, Joyce,” Will caught Hopper saying, words muffled. Hopper sounded so, so gentle. Softer than Will had ever heard him before. “Please, just sit up for me? You don’t have to get up yet, just- just try sitting up, yeah?”

Will shifted to again watch his mother. She remained motionless on the bed, and Will slowly moved away from the door. He wasn’t meant to be seeing this.

He slipped back into his room, turning the doorknob closed gently so as not to alert Hopper and Joyce that he had been hovering in the hallway. When the door finally shut, Will turned to press his back against the wood, sliding down till he sat on the ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, heaving a sigh. Will knew his mother hadn't been doing well. The screams and cries at night hadn't let up, and now, her not even wanting to get out of bed was the final confirmation.

Will figured it all finally caught up to her. Years of being in a constant state of stress, of fear, all finally just ending on a random Tuesday. She had been breaking since the battle ended, Will had seen it when she had panicked over his and El's wrestling. And now, it seemed she had finally snapped.

How could he tell her now? She was barely holding herself together. Will could see the strain whenever she smiled at him, always trying to be so brave and strong in front of him and Jonathan and El. Joyce was one little tap away from shattering altogether, and news of Will's condition would be like slamming her with a baseball bat. 

Will gripped handfuls of his hair, squeezing into fists and causing sparks of pain on his scalp. It calmed him slightly, whatever panic he was feeling slowly ebbing away. After a few minutes of deep breathing, he released his hands and lifted his head, staring at the wall opposite to him with a blank look.

“I won't tell her,” Will told the empty room. “I mean, I will. But… eventually. She doesn’t need to know. Not right now anyway. Now- right now, she needs to worry about herself.”

Will nodded, agreeing with his declaration.

A knock startled him, and his door opened forcefully. Will, who was still leaning against it, was pushed forward, landing awkwardly as he twisted back to look at whoever the offender was.

“Will?” El said. “What are you doing down there?”

From his bent position on the floor, Will shrugged. “Just, I dunno, hanging out.”

El raised an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed look. Will continued to not move, despite how uncomfortable it was.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Anyway, did you make those eggs in the kitchen?”

“Yeah actually I did,” Will said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You can have them if you want though. I tried a bit, so there edible at least.”

Edible seemed good enough for El, who began to turn away, closing his door again. “Alright, thanks!”

Will picked himself up off the floor only once the house well and truly began to fill with movement. He'd heard his mom and Hopper amble down the hallway some time ago and felt it was time to face them. He entered the kitchen to see his family all sitting around the table, El with a cleared plate in front of her.

Will looked at his mom, who pecked at a plain piece of buttered toast. She looked tired, eyes red and lips chapped. Hopper was casting her glances out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to mask his concern.

When Joyce saw Will enter, she smiled at him for a moment before her brows furrowed with concern.

“You look a little pale honey,” she said worriedly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah Mom,” Will lied with a smile of his own. “I’m feeling just fine.”

-

Will felt sweat sliding down the back of his neck as he walked through the empty streets of Hawkins. His mom had sent him to return some clothes Karen Wheeler had insisted they take while they were still getting settled. Now everyone had unpacked with access to clothes of their own, Joyce had found it imperative that the clothes be returned.

He had planned to go over with El, mainly as a buffer between himself and Mike in case they happened to cross paths, but by the time Will had returned from wandering the woods that morning, El had already left. So, Will trudged with a box full of clothes through the suburbs alone.

He felt the heat getting to him by the time he knocked on the door. It was nearing midday, and the sun had Will’s mouth dry had head feeling full of cotton.

When Mrs. Wheeler opened the door, her bright smile took him by surprise.

“Will!” she exclaimed. “Joyce mentioned you’d be dropping by sometime. And oh dear, you look tired. Let’s get you out of the sun.”

She kindly ushered Will through the door, lifting the box out of his arms and dropping it carelessly off the side. She steered him to sit at the kitchen bench, before turning away to fix some refreshments.

“Here you are darling,” Mrs. Wheeler said, setting a glass of chilled water down in front of him. Will gulped it down eagerly.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wheeler," Will said, panting slightly.

"Oh Will, you have always been so polite," Mrs. Wheeler smiled at him. "It's so nice to have you all back. I've missed Joyce terribly, and I know Nancy missed Jonathan too. And Mike, of course, calling your house nearly every day, and lord, the money he spent on postage. I'm afraid my family has become entirely dependent on yours."

Mrs. Wheeler laughed, and after a second Will joined in. His eyes slid away from her, fingers nervously fiddling against the cold countertop. Will didn’t have the heart to tell her that not a single one of those calls or letters had been for him. Will didn't think Mike had missed him at all, really.

Mrs. Wheeler moved to sit down, giving him her full attention. 

“So, tell me all about Lenora. Whenever I asked Mike about what you were up to, he’d just grumble and storm off. Such a teenager, that boy.”

Sunlight streamed in through the window to where Will and Mrs. Wheeler sat across from each other at the kitchen bench. She watched him with such genuine interest, with such pure motherly fondness that Will felt a bit like he might cry.

It had been a long time, a really long time since someone had asked after Will like that. Since someone was concerned about him, and sought him out for him, rather than the Upside Down.

"Lenora was… warm," Will said finally, his voice cracking. After a moment, he continued, surprising himself with the honesty of his words. "I didn't like it at first. I hadn't wanted to move away from my friends, and have to start at a new school and everything. But, I don’t know, it was different there.”

Mrs. Wheeler didn’t try to interrupt Will, only nodded along to show she was listening. At his pause, she smiled a little, encouraging him to go on.

“Not everyone knew each other like they do here,” Will continued. “At first it was weird, but I guess it was just easier. I’m not sure I was happy there, you know. But I think I was happier.”

“Does your mom know this?” Mrs. Wheeler asked gently.

“No,” Will admitted, avoiding her eyes. “Like you said earlier, everyone else is happier back here. Jonathan’s finally starting his own life and Mom is moving on with hers.”

“Still, you know she would do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” Will replied weakly. “I do.” And look where that’s gotten her.  

Mrs. Wheeler clearly picked up on Will’s emotions, a talent her son had very much not inherited. She moved away from the counter for a moment, returning with a container full of biscuits and setting it between them. 

“I, for one, am happy you’re back,” she said affectionally. “It’s been odd, not having you running around my house. I never put away your sleeping bag, you know. I was always half expecting you and Mike to be right around the corner with puppy eyes, begging for a sleepover.”

Will smiled at the memory, and yes, his eyes were definitely prickling. The conversation continued on, calm and sweet. There were no hidden motivations, nothing Upside Down related, just simple conversations about their lives.

Will hadn’t realised how much he had missed Mrs. Wheeler. She had been a constant presence in his childhood, one more person who stood between him and the glares of the town. She never tried to stop her son from playing with Will or called him names, only made him a hot chocolate and helped him zip up his jacket.

Mrs. Wheeler watched Will warmly, fondly, before her brow furrowed.

"If you ever need anything, Will, you can come to me," she said with utmost sincerity. "No matter what. If it's something with Mike, or your mom even, I just- I just want you to know that I care about you, and I'll help you in whatever way I can."

Will looked down, chest warm and eyes suspiciously wet. It was nice, so nice to have someone care. Will felt like he was one nudge, one small shove from letting it all out. How he was being forgotten, being ignored. How his mom couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings. How he was sick.

Will took a shaky breath and opened his mouth.

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sounds of a door being slammed deeper in the house. Both Mrs. Wheeler and Will jumped, turning in their seats as multiple pairs of loud footsteps made their way towards them.

“Come on, I wanna go before it gets busy!”

"Well, then why didn't you bring it up in the hours we were hanging around doing nothing then?”

“Oh shut up! I know you want to go too.”

“Honestly Dustin, I couldn’t care less.”

Will watched as Dustin stumbled into the view of the kitchen, followed closely by Mike and El. Will froze and saw how his friends paused too in catching sight of Will.

“Will?” Dustin asked, perplexed.

“What are you two doing?” Mike asked, more to Mrs. Wheeler than Will. Mike looked between where they sat across from each other with confusion and sensed the heavy atmosphere the Party had intruded upon.

Mrs. Wheeler smiled tightly at her son, but Will could see the gleam in her eye that promised later reckoning. “Will and I were just catching up. It’s been a while since he was over, and you haven’t told me anything he’s been up to.”

Will looked to Mrs. Wheeler with despair, before turning back to the others with his hands out to placate. Will was thrown, and anxiously trying not to show it.

"I was just dropping off some stuff we borrowed for Mom," Will said, nodding to El to confirm his words. She just shrugged.

“Whatever,” Mike dismissed. “We’re leaving, Mom. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Before he left, Mike looked over his shoulder, throwing a targeted glare right at Will. It was probably the first time he’d looked at Will since Vecna was killed, and Will felt himself shrink in his seat. He had overstepped, had forgotten himself, and Mike had so simply reminded him.

It wasn’t until the group had left the house that Will belatedly realised that they were all hanging out together. Without him. He wondered how many times in the past so many weeks they had all gotten together in Mike's basement, laughing and talking.

They had just walked right past him just now, unconcerned whether he knew.

The sunlit kitchen lost its warmth, the day felt less tender. The world withered around him, and Will suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

"Will," Mrs. Wheeler interjected. He looked to her, his eyes wide and pained. She grimaced, opening her mouth to attempt to alleviate the situation. Before she could say anything, Will abruptly stood from his chair.

“Oh, you know what?” Will said, voice a pitch too high. “I-I just remembered, I have some other jobs I need to finish for Mom! I better get to it.”

“Will,” Mrs. Wheeler tried again, half standing out of her chair. But Will was already across the room, heading for the door.

“Thanks for the biscuits, Mrs. Wheeler,” Will said politely. He grasped the handle, but paused, not yet opening it. He turned back to look at where Mrs. Wheeler was, half sitting, half standing, watching Will sadly.

"If you need anything, Will…" she left the offer hanging.

Will took a moment. His reply was a regretful, “I’ll see you around.”

And with that, Will turned and left the house.

-

Will visited Max later than he would have liked. The hospital had been busy with the overflow of earthquake-related injuries and had asked visitors to be kept to a minimum. Will had complied but had felt the guilt of not supporting Max, despite her still being asleep.

Will loitered awkwardly with an arm full of flowers at the front desk of Hawkins’s General, then loitered awkwardly outside the entrance of Max’s room. He knocked, but after waiting a moment with no answer, he hesitantly opened the door.

It was empty inside other than Max, though there was evidence of others having passed through. Lucas's jacket was hung over the back of a chair on the other side of the room, and a small pile of books was amassed on the bedside table.

Max was still comatose, her body breathing, limbs wrapped in casts and eyes covered with clean bandages. She was a mess of tubes and wires connected to machines which produced a steady, constant beeping to mark the seconds. Will watched her for a moment, before edging further into the room.

The flowers in his arms were beginning to get heavy, so Will gently slid the books to the side of the table and placed the vase. His mom had suggested them, bright yellow sunflowers which stood straight and happy. Will thought vaguely that Max would probably hate them. He hoped she’d wake up just to have them thrown out.

Will smiled at the thought, shifting where he stood beside her. He hadn’t known her awfully well, he’d admit, with her having only joined the Party for around a year before Will moved to Lenora. And even then, she had always been more of Dustin and Lucas’ friend, while Will had always been more of Mike’s.

Though the invisible lines were drawn, Will and Max had been friends. Friendly, at the very least. Will moved to watch Max while sitting in the chair, feeling the familiar guilt beginning to climb up through his stomach.

Logically, Will knew none of this was his fault. He hadn’t asked to be taken by the Demogorgon, he hadn’t wanted his connection to the Upside Down, and he hadn’t asked to be saved. But watching Max’s obscured face and casted body, he couldn’t help but feel like this was all his fault. If he had just died in those woods, if everyone had just let him go, maybe things would have been different.

Maybe the Demogorgon wouldn’t have gone after the others, after Barb. Maybe Bob would still be alive. Maybe Max wouldn’t be in a coma. Maybe, everyone would be happy. Or at least, happier.

“I’m sorry,” Will said to Max quietly. It didn’t make him feel better. He was glad it didn’t.

Will sat in the seat, listening to the machine's beep. The view from the window was mediocre, mainly filled with the traffic and surrounding buildings. Such a boring view, yet Will wondered if Max would ever get to see anything like it again. 

Will jumped when the door of the room opened suddenly, his gaze snapping away from the window. Lucas stood in the doorway, looking equally startled to find someone in what he had thought to be a nearly empty room.

“Will,” Lucas exclaimed, eyes darting to Max’s sleeping form. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting Max” Will explained plainly.

“I thought the hospital didn’t allow visitors,” Lucas said, voice steady.

"Oh yeah, they lifted that a while ago. It's more discouraged than anything now," Will tried to say evenly. He was worried his voice wavered a bit. The way Lucas was still standing in the doorway questioning him had Will feeling like he was being interrogated.

"If it's discouraged, do you really think it's smart to be here?" Lucas continued.

Will tried for a smile, despite picking up that he wasn’t welcome.

“Well,” Will reproached. “I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Right,” Lucas said stiffly. He remained standing, attempting to go for a casual pose leaning against the wall. The position moved him slightly closer to Max, and Will could see how tense he was.

They remained in heavily uncomfortable silence. Will drummed his hands lightly against his knees, looking anywhere but Lucas or Max. After neither of them saying anything or moving, Will spotted his sunflowers, sitting peacefully on the table across from him.

"Oh, I brought flowers, to-" Will began, rising and taking a step towards Max to showcase the flowers. However, the second he began to move in Max's direction, Lucas jumped up. He hurdled forward, positioning himself between Max and Will.

Will blinked at Lucas, who blinked back. He had been the kindest to Will out of the Party as of late, the only one not actively ignoring or forgetting him. Yet Lucas had moved so instinctually, desperate to stop him from reaching Max.

“Why did you jump between us?” Will asked unthinkingly.

“I- I don’t know,” Lucas stuttered, looking jumbled. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

Anything to happen to her? What did he think Will was going to do?

“I-,” Will said, voice incredulous. “Did you think I was going to hurt her?”

“No!” Lucas called, backing away from Will with wide eyes. Will remained where he was, body flushing hot and heart pounding. “I mean yes! Well, no, not like that! I just reacted.”

“You reacted,” Will said slowly, needing to understand. “Because you thought I would hurt her. All I did was stand up!”

“I don’t know!” Lucas said, near yelling.

“Why would you think I would hurt her?” Lucas was shaking his head, but Will powered on. “Why would you think I would want to?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" Lucas looked at Will with despairing eyes. "I just saw you move towards her, and – I don't know! I've just been so on edge lately, that at the smallest threat I just-"

“Threat?” Will asked, voice quiet but fixed.

“Will, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You think I'm a threat?” Will’s voice was so disbelieving, so hurt.

“No,” Lucas groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Will stood with eyes wide. His lips were pressed together tightly, though he couldn't hide the slight trembling to them. He was breathing in short, almost panicked breaths.

“Look, Will,” Lucas said sombrely, finally facing Will. “I think that you should leave.”

Will stared at him, stunned. After a moment, Will nodded.

“Yeah, I think you might be right.”

Will cast one last glance at Max before striding out of the room, movements angry and steps fast. He marched through the hallways, past the front desk and out into the road. With no bike, Will continued on, undeterred, through the streets of Hawkins, and didn’t stop till he reached the woods. Even when his legs began to ache and his head to throb, Will persisted, unable to stop, unable to think.

Lucas. Some part of Will had been holding on so tight to Lucas. Dustin seemed to hate Will for not grieving Eddie and would scarcely talk to him. Mike had been a dick to Will for years, and now was purposely ignoring him. But Will had thought Lucas was better than that.

How long had he been thinking of Will as a threat? How long had he been watching Will out of the corner of his eyes like the rest of the bloody town? How long had he been pretending to be his friend?

Will halted to a stop deep in the forest, so abruptly that he startled himself. There were tears pouring down his cheeks, thick streams dripping from his face onto the leaf-covered soil below.

He crouched down, hanging his head between his knees. He closed his eyes, releasing a pathetic, punched-out sound. Once the sounds started, they didn't stop. Deep, wretched sobs were drawn out of him, forcing shallow and quick breaths. He fell fully on the ground, his legs unable to support him with his body shaking so terribly.

He hadn't cried like that in a long time. Maybe not ever, really. Not when he broke his finger or fell off his bike, or watched person after person die for him. But there he lay, curled in the dirt, hiccupping so hard his chest hurt while crying his heart out.

He didn't stop crying until his tears ran dry, leaving his face a blotchy red with puffy and bloodshot eyes. He rolled onto his back, looking at the canopy above. His head felt cloudy. The leaves above were a mix of green and brown with the summer, but the small gaps let sunlight flood through in bright rivulets.

A threat.

Will watched the light dance for some time, waiting for the hiccups and stray sobs to abide. Perhaps it was his own fault, Will supposed. He had built up Lucas in his head and placed far too much on his shoulders. Lucas was just a kid, and he had enough going on without Will hanging onto him like some desperate leech.

Will’s cheeks were still wet, so he absently lifted an arm to wipe at his face. Before he could drop it back down, a smear of colour on his sleeve caught his attention. There was blood on his sleeve.

He lifted a hand, brushing his fingertips under his nose. They came back red. Sometime in Will's ordeal, his nose had begun to bleed. He sighed, letting his hand drop and focusing back on the trees above.

The wind ruffled the branches, creating a song through the forest. He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his hand into a fist. Some part of him desperately prayed for someone, anyone to find him. He imagined Lucas going after him, Jonathan stumbling across him, Mike searching for him.

He wondered how long it would take them all to notice if Will just…disappeared. If he never got up from the forest floor, if he just laid there forever. 

Predictably, no one came after him, no one stumbled across him or came searching for him. It was up to Will alone to get up, to wipe the blood away and dry his own tears. So, Will picked himself up, caught himself when he stumbled and when his legs bucked beneath him.

 Will gritted his teeth and walked himself out of the damn forest.

-

Will couldn’t remember the next few days very clearly. He was tired all the time, yet whenever he went to bed he found it increasingly more difficult to fall asleep. He’d wake up late and lay in bed till the afternoon.

He still participated in things, sometimes. When El would go to the shelter, Will would follow. He’d sit in silence, doing whatever role he was assigned with minimal effort. He wasn’t sure if the Party talked to him. Couldn’t remember. He didn’t really care.

Lucas was there, once or twice. He would cast anxious looks over at Will, even once attempting to approach him. Will just ignored him until he went away, which seemed to do the trick. He didn’t try to talk to Will again.

Will should probably have felt hurt he gave up so easily. Should have felt angry at Lucas, at all of them really. But he found that he didn’t feel much at all lately. Distantly, he found it to be a relief. 

Will sat in his pyjamas at the kitchen table, watching as Jonathan ambled around, getting ready for the day. The scene was familiar. Will remembered how desperate he had been, willing to do anything for Jonathan’s attention, to gain back the love he seemed to have lost.

Will understood where the change had come from. It wasn’t fair that Jonathan had to be so present in raising Will, that he had to step into the role of father. Maybe it was because he played his part so perfectly, showering Will with love and care, that it hurt so much more than Lonnie when Jonathan abandoned it too.

He knew he should be ashamed of the bitter feeling in his chest. Jonathan was finally moving on, living the life he deserved. He just wished he thought to include Will in that future.

Watching Jonathan scramble around for his shoes, Will imagined what would happen if he just…told Jonathan everything. If he blurted out about the headaches, about how sensitive his eyes and skin were, about the nosebleeds.

Will was sure that Jonathan's world would stop right there. He'd tell everyone immediately and chaos would wreck through the group. His mom would break herself trying to save Will.

And maybe they would save him. Will doubted it, but they’d faced worse odds before. Will would be whole and hail…and then what? Who else would get hurt in the crossfire? Would everyone go on with their lives after, just like before? Would they all forget Will again once the danger had passed? Would they hate him even more?

Will didn’t want that. He was sick and tired of fighting, both for his life and to be loved.

“Will!”

At Jonathan’s yell, Will lethargically lifted his head to look him in the eyes. Will blinked slowly. When had Jonathan moved to loom above him?

“Will, I’ve been calling to you for five bloody minutes!”

“Oh,” said Will sluggishly. “Sorry.”

Jonathan frowned. He used one hand to shove Will’s fringe out of his face, the other pressing flat against his forehead. Will’s head tilted back a bit, unresisting.

“You’re a bit warm,” Jonathan said worriedly. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, before moving back to Will. “How are you feeling?”

Fight or no fight. Was it really a question?

“Perfect,” Will responded easily. He smiled at Jonathan, eyes earnest. “I feel perfectly fine.”

-

It had occurred to Will that this all could be Vecna. The thought had crossed his mind early, along with some distant, deep thrum of panic. Maybe Vecna wasn’t really dead? Perhaps he was still alive, attempting to kill the Party in a more slow, passive sort of way.

It hadn't taken Will to realise that no, it wasn't an attack on the Party, it was only him. No one else seemed to struggle to stand after sitting for only a few minutes. No one else was dropping weight at a concerning rate. It wasn’t Vecna attacking the Party, it probably wasn’t Vecna at all. No, this was all Will.

He supposed it could still be Upside Down related. He had spent a week down there, longer than anyone else alive for all he knew. Maybe breathing in nothing but toxic air and sleeping in radioactive darkness had some long-term effects. Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe there was still something in him connecting him to the Upside Down, either from his involuntary sleepover there or from when he was possessed. The Mind Flayer had been inside him, had been part of him. And even when it was burned out, Will had always felt something, some sort of tie to draw him back.

Any of those encounters could have left some connection, some part of the Upside Down in him. And now that the Upside Down was dead, whatever was inside him was dead too, rotting away and taking Will with it.

But a big part of Will wondered if it wasn’t the Upside Down at all. Maybe he was just sick. Maybe it was some dormant genetic condition or something, just waiting to pop out. Maybe this was always going to happen, whether he rode his bike home that night or not. Maybe he was just that damn unlucky.

-

Will was in his familiar position, trailing behind the Party, watching as they walked as one down the street. He could hear them talking among themselves, could feel their concern and love for one another.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Dustin assured Lucas softly.

"Of course she will," Mike agreed, his voice filled with confidence. Will thought he could spy some worry in Mike's expression, perhaps doubt at his own words.

Will's heart squeezed. He used to be able to read Mike's expressions as easily as he breathed, could figure out what Mike was thinking and feeling from just a glance, just a twitch.

Now, Will couldn’t even understand his words.

Three years ago, Mike had never believed Will to be dead, had fought, and against all odds, found Will. Two years ago, Mike had protected Will, advocated for him, and saved him once again. One year ago…

One year ago, Will became nothing more than a friend to Mike. Even less, really. It hurt, in more ways than one way. They used to be best friends. Timidly, Will had thought there was something there, anything, that linked them together stronger than most. But hey, the ‘friendship’ was at least it was something, a shadow of what they had once been.

Now, Mike won't even look him in the eye.

Will wondered vaguely if perhaps all the fighting Mike had to do for Will was the exact reason why everything between them had crumbled. Why Mike wouldn't look at him.

“Max is stubborn as shit,” Mike continued, knocking Will out of his thoughts. He spent of lot of time with them these days. “She’ll get through this just to spite me. I know it.”

Lucas huffed out a small laugh, muttering something too quiet for Will to hear.

Will began to slow his feet, watching as they continued on. One of them must have said something funny, something to break the sombre mood. Their laughter echoed off the buildings, bouncing back to where Will stood, now completely still. 

"Look at me," Will urged. His voice was a whisper, no louder than an exhaled breath. He waited for just one of them, any one of them to pause, to turn around, to look at him. Just one sign, and Will would take a step. Just one look, and Will would try.

“Please,” Will breathed again, letting the dying part of him that still wanted to live give one final plea.

He waited, heart caught in his throat, blood pounding in his ears. The Party continued to walk, kept on moving forward without him. Eventually, they turned the corner, leaving Will alone in the middle of the street, pained but bitterly unsurprised.

He took a deep inhale of clean air, closing his eyes and tipping his face to the sun above. It burnt his skin and made his eyes sting behind his eyelids. Yet Will stayed, breathing in and out in the silence. He felt himself sinking, felt the water brushing up against his face.

He was tired, really tired. He opened his eyes and slowly turned in the opposite direction of his friends and walked away. He just wanted to rest.

And finally, with no one to hold him back, Will was going to do just that.

-

Will wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. He felt like he was standing motionless, surrounded by blurred bodies rushing about him. Time felt like liquid, speeding up and slowing around him along with the currents that pulled at him. It was hard, but so very easy.

The shelter was different when he was alone. He’d only really gone before because it was an opportunity to be with his friends, which had been hard to come by. But after the day on the street, Will had stopped looking for the Party, had stopped trying to force himself into their plans. Will figured that he reminded them of something they’d rather forget.

And it was alright, Will knew. He didn't hold it against them, didn't blame them. He ignored the way his heart felt like an open wound, the way he grieved for people who were right in front of him.

Faced with a sudden increase in free time, Will found himself at the shelter nearly every day. He didn't have anything else to do and it was a convenient place to sit and feel nothing.

The townspeople were wary of Will. They either avoided him or glared as they passed. They had never truly learned what had plagued their town, but they weren’t stupid either, and people had clearly connected some dots.

Every horrible thing, every disaster that had befallen the town, had all begun the day Will Byers disappeared. And many people, it seemed, had figured that the problem was that Will had come back alive. Will didn't fault them at all, rather agreed with them really. They were right, after all.

Will didn’t care. He felt so old. He felt ancient. Each moment seemed an eternity, every action around him felt meaningless. Words became nothing more than muffled sounds, hits became nothing but a temporary movement.

The world moved around him, and Will remained stationary.

-

Will arrived at the shelter just as the sun began to rise. He preferred to come at this time, when the walk from the forest and into the town was peaceful and uneventful. The shelter was quieter then, too.

It had settled down somewhat over the past few weeks. Homes had been repaired and people had been released from the hospital, resulting in the section of the gym dedicated to people without housing being reduced significantly.

There were still a few people drifting around despite the early hour. The organiser of the volunteers was sitting at the front of the gym, blinking slowly at a pile of papers before her. She was slouched over the desk, either suffering from a late night or early morning. Will teetered up to her, unsure of whether to disturb her or not. He was usually assigned some menial tasks anyway, something to keep him out of the mob's line of sight.

The lady looked up at Will. He was a true regular volunteer at this point, so his presence did little to faze her. She blinked at him sluggishly, one eye closing faster than the other in an unsettling way. 

“Byers,” she greeted. “What would you like to do today?”

"You don't have to keep asking me that," Will mumbled. "Just assign me whatever you need to be done."

The lady was unfazed by Will's brazenness, leaning her cheek into her palm and staring up at him. "You're a person. You have talents and skills. I want to assign you something you are good at, or where you can learn or teach."

“I don’t have anything,” he responded absently.

“I doubt that,” she sighed, but relented. She shifted through her papers, pulling one out and scanning through it before addressing Will again. “Start in donations today, Byers, and I’ll switch you up after lunch.”

Will nodded, already moving away before she finished. The few people awake watched him as he drifted through, some muttering ‘Zombie Boy’ darkly, one even stretching out their foot to trip him. Will stumbled but continued on. He made his way to the partially obscured corner filled with boxes of donated shit, and without a word, began to sort.

-

Some people of the town were brave, Will found, or simply curious.

Once the day well and truly began at the shelter, it was a flood of activity. There were the regular volunteers, like Will, who showed up every day without fail. But there was also a constant flow of people from the town, some just to volunteer for just a few hours, some with donations, some to receive a little help.  

Despite the flow, very few people went beyond glaring distance of Will, even fewer actually approached him. But the people who did made it so Will wasn’t left completely to his own devices.

There was a gaggle of children in the shelter, some just stopping in with their parents, but most staying at the lodging provided. The kids often spent their time hiding in the boxes surrounding Will, giggling amongst themselves and daring each other to get closer to him.

Two residents always chose to sit beside by Will at lunch and would talk to him as if he was responding. An old lady with a bag of endless supplies would hand him paper and pencils to sketch with when Will took a break. A boy around his age would chatter away beside Will in the food section.

Will found it fluctuated over time. People would tend to ease up around him, loosening up due to the familiarity of his presence. Some would tense up again, remembering who exactly they were next to, and why exactly everyone avoided 'Zombie Boy'. Some wouldn't.

He wondered why they bothered at all. They all knew he was at least partially responsible for the town being cursed, and it's not like his company was anything interesting. 

But as more time continued to pass, less and less people at the shelter avoided him. More started to talk to him, tried to interact, to be kind to him. They handed him water without him asking, and frowned when Will walked in with darker eyebags, with his cheeks hollower.

The town he grew up in was full of strangers, yet Will found that the only ones who truly seemed to have forgotten or avoided him were the ones he called his friends and family.

-

“Is it true that you died?”

Will looked over at the girl who had just spoken to him, brows furrowed in confusion. She had thick, curly brown hair which dangled as she leaned over the table across from where Will buttered sandwiches. She lived at the shelter, he vaguely recalled, and looked a good few years younger than Will. But old enough he would have expected her to be wary of him.

“What?” Will croaked, baffled.

“Did you die?” she repeated, as if he had simply misheard her. At Will’s continued bewilderment, she huffed. “I heard some people talking. They said this whole thing would never have happened if you’d just stayed dead.”

“Oh,” Will replied. He felt the confusion beginning to fade, felt himself sliding once again back into disinterest. “Yeah, I did. Not for long though.”

“Woah,” she breathed. “How’d you die? What was it like?” 

Her eagerness and insensitivity to the subject had Will glancing up at her. She looked curious, but not in a sinister way. More so…desperate? Like every word Will said from here on was of the utmost importance.

“Um, I can’t really remember,” Will mumbled. At the girl’s insistent look and raise of her eyebrows, Will sighed a little before he continued. “I was kinda out of it. I’d just spent a week lost, and when it happened, I wasn’t aware of anything really.”

It was the half-truth. He was weak and tired when the Demogorgon caught him. And when Will's heart stopped, he was already unconscious. He didn't remember what it felt like to die.

But what he did remember was the feeling of being dead.  

He’d been thinking about it a lot lately, how he had felt in the second before he’d woken up in his mom’s arms. It had felt so calm, like slipping under the surface of a wave and immediately everything quieted, everything was soothing and warm and peaceful.

Will hadn’t realised how loud the waves had roared until he sunk down. He hadn’t grasped just how hard he had been fighting the drag of the tide. And when his mom and Hopper yanked him back up, it was all he could focus on.

He was aware of how cold it was, how the water constantly pulled at him, thrashing around and throwing him about. His head barely broke the surface, his mouth was full of water, yet in the back of his head he knew if he just stopped kicking, just let himself rest, he would slip back into that warm realm.

Despite it, Will kept fighting, kept kicking, kept pushing to live. Yet a small part of him whispered, was it worth it?

But now, he didn’t really have a choice. The ocean had a grip and his ankle and he could feel himself sinking. Will didn't want to fight it anymore. Couldn't find it in himself to care to, really. His arms were tired of keeping him up, his legs sore from kicking, his lungs filling with water. Will was already halfway down.

“Oh,” the girl said. “Even if you can’t remember, it still must have been scary. I’m… sorry it happened at all I guess.”

Will hummed, looking back down to the bread in his hand, thinking the conversation done.

"And I think they're wrong," she continued. Will tiredly glanced up at her in question. She looked at him, before nodding around the shelter. "The adults. About how everything would have been better if you'd died. But they're wrong, I think. Nothing good can happen from someone dying."

She didn’t wait for Will to respond, instead just snagging one of the bagged sandwiches beside him and disappearing into the stacks of boxes. Will watched her curls bounce as she skipped away, and let her words sink in. He took a breath and wondered sadly what exactly had happened to her to have ended up in the shelter.

-

Will was getting worse.

Everything was an effort these days, both mentally and physically. He had to bite his cheek every time he moved to keep himself from groaning out loud. On good days his head would constantly thrum from a migraine. On bad days, he coughed up blood. He found it increasingly difficult to keep food down and was overtaken by dizzy spells making it impossible for him to function.

And it was exhausting, trying to keep responding to people. Their words barely registered, as if they were speaking to him from underwater. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his brain felt too foggy.

Will would’ve felt bad, for shying away from conversation, for responding in weak gestures. But there wasn’t much use for him to talk these days anyway.

He had started avoiding his mom, his whole family really. It wasn’t hard, considering Jonathan was never home anyway and El seemed oblivious to everything around her. Joyce walked around the house like a ghost, yet she seemed to look right through Will like he was the one who wasn’t there at all.

But she was getting better, Will could see. She was becoming less distant, like Hopper had started to reel her back from whatever sick grief-filled world she seemed trapped in. She would get out of bed by herself, brush her hair and make breakfast. Once, when Will sat down next to her, she turned and smiled at him.

But smiling made Will’s cheeks hurt, talking would make his throat ache. His facade was beginning to falter, and Will was terrified his mom would soon see through it. He began to leave the house before anyone awoke, and not return till the sun set. It was a relief, not having to speak with anyone. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk for days, responding only in nods or hums to people who approached him at the shelter.

Will used to talk and laugh with his friends for hours. Down in Mike’s basement, spending whole days campaigning and yelling and fighting. He would talk about nothing, trading stories with his friends without hesitation and singing and screaming and everything.

Will didn't feel too guilty about not laughing. He had no reason to after all.

-

The rain began to drizzle down at the shelter around midday. By evening it was bucketing. Thunder shook the sky, lightning illuminated the heavy clouds above. The shelter had cleared out earlier than usual due to the weather, allowing Will to slowly wobble his way to the exit without interruption. The entry door was open, giving a view of the thick wall of water on the other side.

Will paused in the frame, watching the rain. It had never rained in the Upside Down. When he was trapped there, finding water had been one of his biggest problems, right after the otherworldly monster constantly hunting him down.

Everything had a moist, slimy texture, yet the lakes had been empty and the creeks dry. He’d found some bottled water eventually, still sealed, yet only a small trickle remained inside. He remembered how he had desperately gulped it down, how it had tasted like dust and metal.

Thunder boomed in the sky, making the walls of the gym tremble. A girl Will vaguely recognised came to stand beside Will in the doorway, looking out at the sky hesitantly. She was around his age, and Will thought they might even had been in the same year at school. He could spy a freshly healed scar spanning her cheek from where she was turned, watching the rain.

More thunder sounded, and the girl jumped slightly. She quickly straightened, sneaking a glance at Will out of the corner of her eye. He graciously pretended not to have seen.

Will shrugged off his jacket, letting the warm material slide into his hands. He had started to feel cold lately, despite the summer. He was likely the only one who had brought a jacket to the shelter that morning, the heat of the morning having deceived everyone to the approaching gale. It certainly fooled the girl, who stood shivering next to Will.

Will turned to her, dropping the jacket in the scarred girl’s hands before she could register what it was. “Hold this for me?”

The girl stared at the jacket in his hands, then up at Will, confused. “Where are you going?”

Will hummed, considering. “The woods, probably.”

"No one's supposed to be walking around alone," she tried. "Especially not in the rain."

"Rain's not something I'm afraid of," Will said. To prove his point, Will took a few steps forward out of range of the cover above. The rain immediately soaked him, soothing against his skin and cool against his forehead. The girl watched him, eyebrows raised.

“My little brother says there are monsters in the woods,” she said after a long pause, her tone light and amused. Playful, friendly.

Will smiled at her, feeling surprised himself, but began to move deeper into the rain. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid of them either.”

-

There was a woman at the shelter who made coffee for everyone in the mornings. She was one of the only people who were awake and about as early as Will, but usually they did nothing more than exchange a nod as she handed Will a cup when he walked past. 

But today, Will paused. She was set up along the outside wall of the shelter near the entrance, steaming coffee already poured for him beside her. When she offered Will the cup, he didn’t make his escape, but rather sat down next to her. After all, Will had nothing to lose.

Their conversations, if any, were quiet. Small observations whispered to each other as the world awoke each day. But usually they just sat in silence, sipping away at their drinks before the day truly started.

Almost a week after Will first sat down next to the women, the Party showed up at the shelter. They had been coming far less frequently as of late, and even when they did appear, they tended to be assigned a task far across the room from him. He wondered if they were assigned the furthest distance from Will by pure coincidence, or if they had asked to be placed there. Will didn’t want to know the answer.

He watched them as they loitered across the room, carefully picking through the people and the mess on the floor. The women followed Will’s gaze, observing them too. After a minute, she scowled.

“Fools.”

Will turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. “How are they fools?”

"They'll never get anywhere in life if they remain closed off like that," she muttered, eyes still on the Party.

Will frowned, turning to watch the group for a moment longer. Now that the women had pointed it out, Will could see it. The Party seemed polite enough, if anyone approached them. But there was a clear division between them and everyone else with the way they stood with shoulders set and assessing looks, causing the townspeople to steer clear of them. The Party stood as a unit, defensive and ready for battle.

Will lowered his gaze.

“They’ve been through a lot,” he said quietly. She nodded, taking another small sip.

“So have you,” she countered gently. Will looked at her in surprise, but she had already turned away.

-

Will heard about Max through the gossip of the shelter. Lots of people had been injured during the earthquakes, but Max’s case had stood out to the town. She had been disfigured like the others, like Chrissy Cunningham and Fred Benson, however Max had survived. And she seemed to have finally woken up.

Will was frozen where he stood, staring down at the vegetables he had been chopping when he heard the news. Max was awake, had been awake for who knows how long. And no one had told him.

“Do you know her?” the boy working next to Will asked. He had mentioned Max’s development in his ramblings he often treated Will too, but paused when Will froze.

At the question Will shook himself slightly, trying to get his hands to move. Gradually, he resumed his chopping sluggishly.

“Yeah,” Will muttered. “Yeah, I knew her.”

Will didn’t care that Mike was so clearly trying to avoid him. When he spotted Mike on the walk home later that day, Will was surprised at the anger he suddenly felt broiling around in his chest, so hot and loud compared to the near nothing he had been feeling as of late.

Mike was walking some ways ahead of him on the other side of the road, but Will would recognise that hair anywhere (would recognise him anywhere). Will recklessly crossed the road in a fury, catching up to Mike with long, fast steps.

"Hey!" Will called, reaching ahead to grab Mike's arm and spin him around.

“What the hell!” Mike shouted instinctively, expression furious, before cutting himself off. “Will?”

"Yeah, Mike," Will nearly spat. "Forget about me?" He hadn't felt like this, this angry and hurt since that night in Mike's basement. It's not my fault you don't like girls.

"What are you talking about?" Mike said, flinching back from Will's anger. The movement jostled his arm still encased in Will's tight grip. He let it drop, moving his gaze back up to Mike.

“I’m talking about Max,” Will said coldly.

“What about her?” Mike asked, voice still slightly raised.

Will ground his teeth. “She’s awake.”

“Yes,” Mike said easily. At Will’s heavy stare, Mike frowned. “Oh, I guess we forgot to tell you. Sorry.”

Will suddenly felt all the anger in him leave just as quickly as it had come. His expression loosened with the fading anger, and quickly tried to cool it into indifference rather than hurt.

Mike had said ‘we’. Sure, Will had felt the gap between himself and the Party, had felt the distance. But the way Mike had said ‘we’ so easily. He hadn’t hesitated to acknowledge that there was everyone, then there was Will. The people he loved, and then there was Will.

Will swallowed, attempting to move past it. Now wasn’t the time, and Will knew he had already lost the battle.

“Is she okay?” Will asked, his voice cracking.

Mike looked at him for a heartbeat before responding. “Yes, she is. I mean, she’s still healing, and it will be a while before she’s up and moving. But they think she’ll be okay. The doctors think she might even get some of her eyesight back.”

Will looked down at the ground in relief. Slowly, a sick feeling began to creep in, sinking to his stomach like how the fire had risen from his belly.

“Did-” Will started, before cutting himself off. He wasn’t sure how to word the question. “Was it Lucas? Did he ask you all not to tell me?”

It was a cruel thought that had lodged itself in Will since he had heard about Max. He had worked hard not to think of Lucas since that day in the hospital. The betrayal still stung and burned.

“No…” Mike said uncertainly, looking at Will with confusion and more than a little suspicion. “I just told you, we all forgot. Why would Lucas do that?”

“No reason,” Will said quickly, quietly. Mike was looking at Will with more interest right now than the last year combined, but Will only felt tired again, felt himself falling back into the pool of hurt and impassiveness. “I'm going to go. Take care of Max.”

Will felt Mike's eyes on him as he turned away, setting off back down the path despite it being in the opposite direction of his original destination. Mike didn't respond until Will was much further down the road, turning off to walk a path Mike knew led into the woods.

“Right,” Mike said slowly to the street, empty except for himself.

-

“Baby Byers!”

Will looked up tiredly at the yell that sounded in the shelter. Steve Harrington cheerily made his way over to where he sat sorting through expired food. Will spied Robin off in the distance, chatting to some girl Will sort of recognised.

“Steve,” Will smiled, offering a small wave.

“I thought that was you,” Steve said breathlessly, coming to a stop in front of Will. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Where is everyone?”

Will looked down again. “Oh, I'm not sure. Around, probably.” He winced at how unsure his voice sounded. However, when Steve didn’t respond, Will looked up to see him staring down with clear concern.

“You feeling alright Baby Byers?” Steve asked. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Will responded dryly, uncertain of how else to respond. He hadn’t exactly been trying to hide he was sick. He looked awful, he knew. His cheeks were hollow and his lips chapped. The bags under his eyes were stark against his unnaturally pale skin. If he looked at his hands for a bit too long they would start to shake.

“No,” Steve said again, still frowning. “Like you look like actual hell. Seriously, are you sure you’re alright?”

Will knew vaguely that he should be trying to ease Steve’s concerns, that he should try to make light of the situation. But Will wasn’t kidding about being tired, and couldn't seem to find the effort to come up with a smart response. So instead, he ran. It's what he was good at, after all.

“I’m fine,” Will said with another smile. “Look, it was good to see you again. I've got to go and take these out to the trash.” Will gathered up some of the expired products he had found, biting his tongue to stop from groaning as he stood. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

Steve watched Will walk away with a slightly dumbfounded look.

Will distantly thought that in the months since they had defeated Vecna, Steve had been the first person out of those who he had considered his friends and family to actually approach him at all. It sat with him heavily, so he pushed it to the side. Will was too tired to think more on it.

-

The shelter had been changing. People didn’t need a quick peanut butter and jelly sandwich or their wounds bandaged anymore. The town had recovered enough that they were out of immediate danger. Now, people just had to get back on their feet.

The pre-packaged food station had been closed, instead giving way to daily cooked lunches. Anyone from the town could come to have a warm meal, and to sit and talk with the people who had had similar experiences.

Will had recently been assigned the job of being a glorified babysitter to all the kids at the shelter. There had been a few close calls over the past weeks when the kids had been running wild, resulting in many near misses involving sprinting children, heavy boxes and small bodies underfoot.

It was a tiring job, trying to entertain them so they wouldn’t bother the other staff around the gym. But despite how it made his muscles burn and voice strain, Will found he didn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought he would.

Will looked up from where he was smiling down at the kids to immediately meet the eyes of the Party. He locked onto them as soon as they stepped into the room, like he had a sixth sense for their presence alone, though that wasn't unusual. No, what was so odd about today, was that they were looking back.

Mike's eyes met his. Will's heart stuttered in his chest, his breath hitching and his smile slowly slide off his face. Mike's gaze was fixed on Will, watching him intently with an expression Will couldn't read.

Will pulled away first, only to find the rest of the Party had followed Mike’s gaze. He looked at them each, at El, Lucas then Dustin. Each of them looked back, El the longest, Lucas the shortest, but each of them looked at him.

It still ached, still hurt. It felt like vines were wrapped around his chest, never letting him take a full breath in when they were in the same room together. He tried to act like those weren't the boys he had grown up alongside, that he had once known better than anyone. But they were all open wounds, still tender and nowhere close to healed. Every time they saw each other, it reopened and began to bleed all over again.

A kid pulled at Will’s arm, and he let his gaze fall first. When Will looked up again, the Party had disappeared into the shelter.

“Willllllllllllllll,” a kid whined.

Another kid tugged on Will’s sleeve, demanding his attention. Will poorly attempted to mask the emotions he knew were all over his face. If the kids noticed, they didn’t care, continuing on with their complaining.

“Can we do something?” a girl asked.

“I’m bored,” said a boy with round glasses.

Will rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t been entertaining them for the last three hours. “What do you want to do?”

“Can you tell us another story? Like last time?” a child asked eagerly.

“Yeah! The one with the monsters!” a loud boy shouted excitedly. Will winced at the volume. He looked at the kids dubiously, a bit of challenge slipping into his gaze.

“I dunno,” he mused. “Didn’t some of you get scared last time?”

"No, we didn't," the curly-haired girl said hotly. Will laughed a bit and lifted his hands in mock surrender.

"All right then," Will conceded. After more loud cheering to which Will again winced, they quieted down. "Where did we leave off last time again?"

“The Paladin saved the Cleric, right?”

“Ah,” said Will. “Of course.”

-

It was storming again. The summer months had begun the wane, but the rain felt warm from where Will's hand stuck out, catching the water. People were madly dashing around him, hurrying home to try to beat the tempest. Will watched as the water slid down his wrist, dripping off his elbow.

He stepped out fully, feeling his fringe plaster itself to his forehead. He stood as a single figure in the chaos.

A hand tugged at Will’s shirt. He opened his eyes, looking to see the girl with the scar standing in the rain beside him.

“Your jacket,” she said, holding up the material to Will.

“Keep it,” said Will easily.

The girl looked intently at Will, biting her cheek. Finally, she asked, “Where are you going?”

Will smiled at the familiar question, giving a familiar response in turn. “The woods, probably. I’m not afraid of the rain.”

“Me neither,” the girl said quickly. Her hands, still holding his jacket, balled into fists.

He watched her, before letting his lips twist into a small smirk. “And what about the monsters?”

Her shoulders relaxed, a grin cracking on her face. She laughed over the deafening sound of rain slamming on the roof. “I’m not afraid of them either.”

Will began to feel his chest warm, a smile on his face. He felt something beginning to bloom, a promise of a fresh start in Lenora being realised in the very place he was escaping. Will led the way through the forest, and the girl followed.

She watched the way the rain slipped between the canopy above, how small trails of water weaved down the forest floor. Will guided her to a clearing where the rain poured freely. It was one of his favourite places, where grass was long and had a gentle spread of flowers. The sun had broken through the clouds, sunlight streaming in as they watched. Will saw her let out a stunned laugh at the sight, feeling something he had thought to have broken inside him stutter back to life.

-

Things began to change.

Not with his friends, or even with his family. But Will's outlook had begun to shift. Like cracks in a murky window, Will could see the light creeping in, see how it danced and poured like liquid gold. It's not that Will had lost the ability to recognise and appreciate the world around him, more so that he had forgotten how to care enough too.

Will began to see the beauty in Hawkins that he was not sure he had ever really noticed before. The walks to the quarry became more than just a way to escape people, the sun on his skin began to feel warm.

He wasn’t getting better, and he had nothing to lose. He started to remember how to care about people, or anything really. He started to remember how to be kind.

He braided the hair of the girl with a head full of curls after she heard how Will had used braid his sisters'. He didn’t stand quite so far away from others in the shelter. He sat with people at lunch, and listened to their stories.

Will was walking back into his house after a rather short shift at the shelter. His head had been bothering him the whole day, leaving him unable to focus and constantly on the verge of throwing up. After watching Will cut vegetables at a painstakingly slow pace for an hour, the organiser lady had had enough and told him to go home. His only response was a slight grimace before he stumbled to his house and promptly fell face-first into his bed. 

He was awoken what he assumed to be serval hours later by loud voices through the wall of his room. Not from his mom's room, the other wall. El's room. Will lifted his head blearily, squinting at the offending wall. His migraine had dimmed significantly, and the afternoon sun through the window only caused slight pain in his eyes.

“–I do talk to you! All the time in fact!” a voice said loudly from next door. Not El’s, but a man’s voice. Mike.

"No, you don't," El's muffled voice responded firmly.

“We are literally always together El! Of course I talk to you.” That was definitely Mike's voice, angry and defensive through the wall between them. 

Will groaned, dropping his head back into the pillow underneath him. First a killer migraine, followed right up by being forced to hear his sister and his best friend's shouting match. They probably had no idea Will was home either. God, they needed thicker walls.

“Yes,” El responded again, voice raised and strong. “We are always together. But all we do is make out. Whenever I try to talk about anything, you just try to make out again.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why does it matter anyway?” Mike questioned pitifully.

“Because Mike,” El said tightly. "You need to talk about things. We need to talk about things!”

“I do talk to you though. I talk to you all the time!”

“Like you talk to Will?”

Will's breath caught on El's statement, frozen in place like he was sure Mike was too. El continued despite Mike's lack of response.

“I thought you two were best friends, now we’ve barely seen him in months. Months, Mike! Do you realise that? I thought you were friends!”

"We are friends!" Mike's voice was loud, but Will couldn't read the emotion in it. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, listening, unmoving. He hadn't realised that El had even noticed his diminished presence. She hadn't mentioned it to him, and Will felt a sinking feeling knowing she must have been aware and chose to ignore it. Ignore him.

“You’re friends the same way you talk to me!” El said desperately. “You’ve been through stuff, we all have. But you pushed Will away, and now you’re pushing me away? Who’s next? Dustin? Lucas?”

"El I just-" Mike's voice cut off, followed instead by the sound movement. Will shifted his head a little, ears straining. "I'm sorry, okay? I just need some time."

“I just don’t get why you can't just talk to him? Why won't you try?”

“Please El,” Mike said, so quietly Will almost missed it. It was silent for a long time after.

“Okay,” El responded softly. “I won't push you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

Their conversation tampered off into unrecognisable murmurs which Will couldn’t hear over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear. He didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t want to listen to them talk about him.

Silently, he rose from his bed. He'd always been good at hiding, at running, and now was no different. Not a sound was made as Will opened and climbed through his window, dropping mutely onto the ground outside. His footsteps were silent as he crouched under the windows along the house, until he was far away enough to fully stand and run.

Will ran right for the forest, weaving expertly through the trees till he reached the quarry. He bypassed the cliff he usually sat at, instead marching further down until he was wading knee-deep in the water.

He didn’t get it. What had he done that was so horrible? Everyone needed time to heal, time away from Will.

But Will was dying. He didn’t have fucking time. He was dying.

“I’m dying,” Will said aloud. The quarry remained silent, soaking up his words.

And he was. It had been months now, and he was only getting worse. His bones ached. Old cuts and scars that have long since healed were sore and tender. Bruises continued to pop up on his body and wouldn’t leave for weeks.

He was going to die. He was fucking dying, and everyone he loved was going to remember him for the shitty things he dragged them into. Shitty things he hadn’t wanted, he hadn’t asked for either.

"I'm going to die," Will told the quarry again. He stared at the water, and watched it lap softly against his legs. The air around him had a hint of chill that the sun couldn't quite grasp. The summer was nearly over.

For some, when they looked at Will, all they saw were the sacrifices they made to save him. Will decided that wasn’t what he was going to be remembered for, as an extension of the Upside Down.

Not by his friends, not by his family. But by the others, the people on the other side of the trees who Will saw every day. The children, who laughed in the rain and asked Will to draw them pictures of cool bugs. The town, who suffered alongside Will.

Those who watched their loved ones die in the earthquakes. Those who were terrorised by the monsters same as Will. Those who had lived in fear for years, and those who deserved better.

Will was tired of being weighed down and judged by his past for something he had no say in. He bent down, dipping his hands under the surface of the water. He watched the distorted image, and felt the cold seeping through his skin. Finally, Will stood straight, and began to wade his way back out of the quarry.

He was dying. But he was going to live until he died.