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Peter was alone in the Upside Down for a while (weeks? Months? Years? He wouldn't know. It was hard to keep track when he was trapped here) until the boy showed up.
The boy shouldn't be here. Peter watched from afar, behind a tree, in the skin of a monster, after losing the battle to Eleven and having been sent -- exiled -- here, by the very same kid, Eleven, who he so stupidly underestimated. Or, Peter didn't underestimate her: he trusted her, somehow that was worse.
But he could rethink about what went wrong, what his mistakes were, later. Right now, Peter watched the boy run, watched him hide underneath that tree, trembling, trying to silent his crying, as if there were chances he'd survive the creature's teeth, the Upside Down predator that'd been hunting him. It would catch up soon. The kid was as good as dead.
Peter was, without warning, hit with a wave of strong flashbacks.
When he was Henry, his father, Victor Creel, wasn't the father he'd like others to think he was. It'd been so long, and Henry -- no, not Henry anymore. Henry was dead just like his mother and sister. He was Peter Ballard now, if he still was Peter Ballard in this monstrous skin -- remembered hiding underneath, behind a tree not too far away from their house, every time his father was angry about something and needed someone to take his anger out on.
A man should never hit a woman, thus his mother and sister were never his father's target. But Henry... Henry was a boy, and a boy should never cry.
Young Henry could only hide for so long, trembling and terrified, until his father found him, and his father always had a belt ready in his hand.
A monster shouldn't be haunted by memories, pathetic childhood memories. They meant nothing. Peter was looking at himself, that boy, crying and closing his eyes and praying the nightmare would be over soon.
He could kill him by himself, of course, or he could wait for the predator to sink its teeth in the boy's soft skin. After all, watching him die would bring him some sorts of entertainment, the thrill, since it'd been so long in this blood-red hell.
Peter found himself approaching, standing in front of the boy now. Somehow, the boy must've been alerted of his presence looming over, casting shadows on top of him, because he opened his eyes, his big, round, tearful eyes. He looked even more terrified to see Peter. Understandably. Peter wasn't human anymore.
"No," the boy murmured to himself, before screaming as loud as he could, "Go away!"
Adorable. Now he's gonna attract even more predators his way, with his bloody scream.
Peter got on his knees, inspecting the young thing, tilting his head slowly. "You do not belong here," he said, after a while. "How did you end up here, child?"
"I... I..." The kid stuttered, trying to speak, to say anything but his voice got overpowered by the severity of his own loud sobbing.
Peter made a humming, comforting noise in his throat, oddly enough, he'd almost forgotten how to do that. What he was doing right now, he didn't know why he was doing it. He used to be an orderly, back in Hawkins lab, and even though he hated those noisy mutts, he must obey Papa's orders. One of Papa's orders was to be... kind. So he wasn't new to comforting kids in distress.
Papa wasn't here, and Peter had no reason to offer this kid comfort. He was doing just that anyway. What frustrated Peter the most, was probably the fact he had no idea why he felt this... this strange, unexplainable urge to protect him. Maybe protect was too strong a word. He had no problem slaughtering kids this boy's age, but Peter saw himself -- his much, much younger self, in the boy's eyes: scared, hiding from a monster just like this. The only difference, was that Peter's monster didn't bear so much resemblance to monsters in those bedtime stories, to monster which he apparently was now.
He slowly reached out his claws-like hand, touching the kid's arm gently, for too harsh a contact could rip the poor thing's limb apart. The kid shuddered, flinching away.
Peter, for some reason unknown to himself, offering him a hand, then.
The kid looked at him, back at the hand awaiting him to take, then back at Peter and at the hand again. There was confusion in his eyes, fear and confusion.
"They cannot hurt you," Peter said. "As long as you are with me."
There was another pause of silence from the boy. Not... not really silence, because he was still sobbing, but the lack of words, to be precise. "How..." He managed to choke out eventually. "How can I trust you?"
Oh, so the kid can speak.
"You cannot. I'm afraid." Peter said. "But you do not have a choice."
The kid, for a moment, looked like he was weighting his options, genuinely considering them. He was... smart, it seemed, smarter than Peter might have given him credit for, seconds ago, to still be able to think when he was clearly very terrified.
(But the truth was, it really wasn't that complicated: he could take Peter's awaiting hand, or he could stay here and wait for the predator to do what a predator did. What was, was the fact Peter was here, deliberately offering this kid his help.)
The kid, after another while, slowly, carefully, reached out his shaky little hand, placing it on top of Peter's.
Maybe the mutt is smart.
"Very wise decision, child." Peter smiled.
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Telling each other names meant getting emotionally invested, that was the last thing Peter planned on doing when he, against his own better judgement, took the kid back to his lair. In the other world, the world that was once his home, this would've been where his new Hawkins house located, after he and his family moved, in hope for a... better life. (So much for that.)
The kid had cooled down and stopped whining, which was good. Peter wasn't certain if he could hold himself back from snapping his neck out of annoyance, if he were to keep crying the entire time.
What wasn't good, was his inability to shut the hell up. Apparently the kid talked a lot, after he somehow got... comfortable. (After he was convinced Peter wasn't going to kill or eat him.)
"I'm Will, by the way. Will Byers. What's your name?" He asked, following close behind Peter.
Peter didn't immediately respond. He hoped the kid -- Will -- would take the hint and give back the silence he now craved.
Turned out the kid was stubborn and persistent.
"Come on," he added.
Should've left him there to be eaten alive.
"Everybody has a name. You must have a name, right?"
Everybody has a name, oh that... that was... right. Except Peter didn't have a name. He was born Henry Creel, then he was no longer Henry Creel but a number in an experiment in some secret laboratory. He was One once. And One, all these numbers, they only fit Papa's kids as long as they were children. He couldn't stay a child forever, so he outgrown One, and became Peter Ballard, the friendly orderly in the very same place he was kept a prisoner, a lab rat. Who he was right now, in this inhuman body, Peter wasn't sure. Sometimes, everything felt like a lie, a hoax, his life.
"Oh, I do." He said, eventually, to Will. Alright, fine, he thought, watching Will get himself a nice seat on a rock like he was expecting some cool story. "I wasn't born... like this." Peter went on.
Will tilted his head to the side. His innocent curiosity reminded Peter of the children in Hawkins lab, the children he slaughtered in cold blood.
"I wasn't born... like this." He took a seat on a rock next to Will, and it reminded him of his time as an orderly in Hawkins lab, sitting with Eleven in the Rainbow Room and teaching her how to play chess.
"I was like you once. My mother called me Henry, but that isn't who I am anymore."
"What happened?" Will asked.
"They couldn't accept me. I saw it in my parents' eyes, fear. I was an outcast, and I was taken to a special place where I was promised my... ability would stay mine. There, I was One. But I didn't stay One for so long, not after I wasn't a child anymore. Then they said I was Peter Ballard from now on. But Peter was still an outcast, so it only fits that an outcast was to be exiled. I ended up a monster, doomed to roam here, alone."
"But you're not a monster. Not to me." Will said. Peter looked at him, and there was truth in his eyes.
"Who did this to you?" The kid asked. This time there were... emotions behind those eyes, too: sadness, protectiveness... anger? It confused Peter a great deal, because why would Will, the kid who he had just met and who had just met him, be this... sentimental on his behalf? The other kids in Hawkins lab, besides Eleven, wouldn't care.
He's a sensitive kid. Just like you once were, Peter.
Peter averted his eyes, now gazing up ahead at the red sky and the horizon in front of them.
Who did this to you?
His mind went to his fight with Eleven. What hurt the most wasn't his defeat but her betrayal, her turning him down when he thought he could... when he thought they could rule together, build a better world for people like them.
Who did this to you?
"Someone I trusted."
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Will was out of his sight for less than five minutes, even though Peter told him to stay close at all time. (And really, it wasn't Peter's fault, he wasn't a babysitter, not an orderly anymore. If the kid chose to stray away and risk getting killed, then it wasn't his problem.)
Peter couldn't help feeling the surge of anger, of protectiveness, when Will came running towards him, chased by a pack of those bat-like predators.
They all stopped, the predators, when they saw Peter. They weren't really scared of him, they weren't scared of anything, but they learned where their territory ended. So as long as Peter didn't bother them, they didn't bother him.
But what caught Peter off guard, after giving the animals his murderous stare, was the way Will clung onto his leg so tightly, with his height only reaching his waist, holding on for dear life.
Peter had never been hugged before. He used to wonder, when he was younger, if this was how being hugged felt like. To be held so tightly by someone.
"I told you to stay close," Peter said, after he found his voice. (And he was hoping his voice didn't betray him, that it didn't reveal the feeling nagging somewhere in his chest. His younger self used to dream about being hugged by his parents the way they always hugged his little sister.)
Will was trembling by his side. He hadn't yet let go, even if Peter didn't hold him back (Peter was... too stunned by the unexpected touch to move, but he'd rather die than to admit that)
"It's alright," Peter sighed, then, when Will kept crying. "They're gone."
"They tried to eat me." Will pointed out in his small voice.
"And what did I tell you, hmm?"
"To... to stay close," he sniffled.
"No, before that, when we first met. I told you they cannot hurt you, as long as you are with me."
Will hugged him tighter.
And Peter learned one thing from this incident, being hugged felt... nice.
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"Hey Peter," Will broke the silence, climbing through the black vines to sit next to him.
(Apparently, the kid did not know what personal space meant.)
"Can I ask you something?" He added.
Peter looked at him sideway. Usually, this was when he rested. He didn't sleep like human did anymore, but the vines gave him... strength, recharging his strength. He doubted he was getting any energy boost now, with Will looking at him with his big, round eyes.
And somehow Will took his silence as a green light. "Why did you save me?" He asked.
"Hmm?"
"That day... when you found me. I guess you could've... I don't know, walked away? Why did you save me."
Good question. But not really... not really as complicated a question as Peter might have wished it was.
I saw myself in you.
Peter wouldn't -- couldn't -- just say that. So he shrugged instead. It might even look awkwardly funny for a monster to shrug. But... whatever.
"Alright," Will mumbled. "It's fine," he shrugged back, and leaned in until he was outright hugging Peter again. "Thanks, anyway." He said. Peter found himself too speechless to find words, too paralyzed to push him away.
It didn't take long for Will to drift off, sleeping against Peter's side.
Peter let him.
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The day Will left for home, he didn't say goodbye. Or, he didn't have the chance to say goodbye to Peter.
Peter watched from the shadow, Will's mother and her friend come for her son's rescue.
The first day without Will felt... strangely empty. Peter tried to ignore that emptiness in his chest. He could still see Will, what he was up to, through their shared psyche.
The kid was, in turn out, like Peter in more ways than Peter could ever dare to admit. His trauma and his loneliness. Peter had thought he and Eleven were alike. He could really see himself in Will.
He wondered, if it were Will instead of Eleven, that day, if things would've ended differently, if Will would've chosen to join him.
For some reason, Peter was certain he and Will would one day meet again.