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It’s dark.
That’s all Will knows; right now, anyway. All he can see is dark.
He doesn’t know where he is; Hawkins, maybe? Perhaps his house, or one of his friends.
He’s quickly proven wrong when he hears the sound of screaming from the distance.
That isn’t a sound you hear in Hawkins day to day.
Realization overcomes Will as he starts to piece the puzzle together; he’s there.
The Upside Down.
He hears screams again, and this time they’re a little more familiar.
His friends.
Shit.
He stands up, not knowing he was even sitting, and starts yelling their names. There’s no reply.
He starts walking towards the screams, continuing to yell his friend’s names. Lucas. El. Max. Mike. Dustin. He gets no verbal reply, instead more screams, and his heart drops to his stomach.
Will starts running, now; he has to get to them. The rocks and branches on the ground sting his feet (why isn’t he wearing shoes?), but he ignores the pain and keeps going.
He soon finds himself in a familiar part of the forest; this is where he had to watch a man die. He can still remember it; hear the man begging for him to find his friend, Will’s empty promise of ‘yes, I’ll get him, we’ll all get out of here,’ the blood.
There was so much blood.
It seems that today, much like that day years ago, he’s going to have to watch someone die.
Or, more accurately, five people.
Maybe four, actually; he’s pretty sure Dustin’s already dead.
“Jesus, fuck,” Will hisses. The demogoron is gone, thank god, but now Will has to make sure his friends don’t die.
One finger on Dustin’s neck and another on his wrist shows that he is in fact dead. Will tries, and ultimately fails, to hold himself together. Tears fall down his face and onto Dustin’s cold hand, and he tries, with much resistance, to tear himself away from him.
He doesn’t have time for all of them. He can’t save all of them. He can’t. Which means that, unfortunately for Will, he has to choose.
Life’s unfair like that, isn’t it, Will thinks as he crawls over to Lucas’ side, The universe just loves fucking with Will Byers.
“Hey, hey, Lucas,” he whispers, putting his hand over Lucas’, “Come on, get up, we need to go. I can—I can get us out, I can get you—”
Will stops short when his fingers move over Lucas’ wrist and he doesn’t feel a pulse.
“Lucas?”
No reply.
As Will starts to cry, quietly at first but soon he’s sobbing loudly, he realizes that in trying to save someone he already lost, he lost everyone.
Will awakes with a start, bolting upright and breathing heavily.
Just a dream. Not real.
He doesn’t believe that for a second.
With a shaking hand, he blindly feels around the space next to him, fingers finally settling on Lucas’ shoulder. He relaxes a bit when he grabs the fabric of his boyfriend’s pyjamas, but he still shakes and heaves and whimpers.
With a gentle tug on his shirt sleeve, Lucas is awake. Groggy at first; “What? What’s—going on?” he mumbles, stretching his arms upwards. When he makes eye contact with Will, sees his heaving chest, sweat-covered face and expression near tears, he quickly sits up and bombards Will with questions. (In the sweetest, kindest way possible.)
“Hey, Will, are you okay? Will, baby, talk to me. What happened?”
Will doesn’t answer. He chokes out a sob, and Lucas is quick to lean forward and wrap his arms around Will’s small frame.
Lucas abandons trying to get Will to explain what happened, replacing his questions with whispers of reassurance and, “Hey, you’re okay. Breathe with me.”
And Will does, or at least tries to. He allows Lucas to take his hand and place it on top of his chest, allows himself to feel the way Lucas breathes and try to match it.
He still cries, but he’s stopped heaving. His hands are shaking less, but his hair is still damp from the sweat.
He’s not okay, not yet, but Lucas helps.
“Do you want some water?”
Despite himself, Will laughs half-heartedly. “Do we have water?”
Lucas laughs quietly, too. He cards his hands through Will’s slightly damp mop of hair gently. It grounds him, if only a little.
“Yeah. Can I let you go? Is that okay?” Lucas’ voice is soft, slow. He’s being gentle with Will—he always is.
Will hesitated to respond, not really wanting Lucas to let him go but also being very thirsty and dehydrated from the sweat and tears.
“Okay,” he says finally, and Lucas gives him one final squeeze before letting go. Before he stands, he runs his thumb over Will’s cheek, and he nods, knowing what Lucas is asking.
He leans forward, slowly, and places a gentle kiss on Will’s cheek. Pulling away with a smile, he wipes a couple of Will’s tears and stands to grab some water.
Will sits silently, drying his tears as they fall and suppressing whimpers and cries. When Lucas comes back, his back slouches slightly as he takes the water.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened now? In your nightmare?” Lucas asks, “Small sips, baby, small sips.”
Will sighs as he takes a small sip from the bottle of water. It’s warm; not that he expected ice cold water. The warmth is comforting, in a way.
“I, um—“ he starts, squeezing his eyes shut. “I was—I was there.” He doesn’t need to say where there is; Lucas has been around him long enough to know.
“And, um, I heard screams. Familiar—familiar screams. You.” Lucas takes his hand and squeezes it tightly, “El, Max, everyone.”
He whimpers a little against the lip of the bottle, and Lucas squeezes his hand again. “You don’t have to. It’s okay.”
“I—I found you, everyone, and—and Dustin was already dead.”
“Oh, Will—“
“And then I knew—I knew I couldn’t save everyone, so I, god, I chose you, but—you were dead, too, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t—“
Will chokes out a sob, and Lucas takes him in his arms again, holding on for dear life. Will is surprised he didn’t spill his water from the sudden movement—not that he’s complaining.
“Jesus, Will, I’m so sorry. But look, see? I’m okay, and so is Dustin—you’ll see him in class tomorrow. We’re all okay. And you’re okay.”
Lucas whispers in his ear, stroking his hair, holding him close. Despite the unfortunate circumstances, Will feels comforted and safe and loved.
“Do you wanna stay up? Or can you sleep?” Lucas asks him gently. Will thinks about it for a minute, recatching his breath and drying out his tears.
“I can sleep,” he mumbles, wriggling out of Lucas’ grip to put the bottle of water on his bedside table. “Can we do the—“
“Yeah,” Lucas smiles. He runs his hand through Will’s hair one more time, and finally, finally Will smiles.
“There he is,” Lucas says softly, “World’s prettiest boy.”
“‘M not pretty,” Will mumbles, laying down and allowing himself to sink into the mattress.
“Wrong.”
Lucas lays down after him, making sure all the lights, save for the small night light in the wall, are out, then wrapping an arm around his torso and pulling him close, Will’s back against his chest.
“You, Will Byers, are the prettiest, smartest, bravest boy I’ve ever met.”
Will can’t help but smile. He feels the dried tears on his cheeks crack a little, and it makes him want to cry more. But he holds through, because Lucas is pressed against him and he’s in his arms and he’s safe.
After a brief pause, Will wriggles closer to Lucas—not that he really can.
“Thank you,” he whispers, and Lucas knows he’s not talking about the pretty comment, or the brave one, or the smart one.
He’s talking about everything.
Lucas doesn’t reply, only wraps his arms tighter around Will and holds him close. But Will knows what he means.
“Goodnight, Will,” he says softly, pauses, then adds, “I love you. So much.”
Will smiles, makes himself smaller by squirming closer to Lucas and pulling his legs close, and allows his hand to find Lucas’. Their fingers intertwine, mostly by habit, and Lucas holds him even tighter.
“I love you too. Goodnight, Lucas. Thank you.” he says again, allowing his eyes to close slowly. Lucas squeezes his hand again.
Will matches his breathing to Lucas’, feeling his chest rising and falling against his back. When his thoughts drift to the Upside Down, he instead focuses on Lucas’ thumb rubbing his hand and his arms wrapped firmly and safely around his waist.
Just before he falls asleep, he feels Lucas press a gentle kiss to the nape of his neck and hears him whisper, “Sleep well, pretty boy,” and every sense of fear leaves his body.
Falling asleep is hard—the nightmares are harder—but Lucas makes it easy.