Chapter Text
As blood seeps into the rotten soil beneath him, he starts to understand. Thousands of dust particles swim around his cloudy vision. They seem to twinkle back to life into tiny dancing lights, floating down to meet him. He tries to lift a hand to touch one of them, but he can’t. His arm feels too heavy. His eyelids blink slowly, drenched in molasses. Blood pours from the gash on his side, the cuts on his legs, the scratches on his palms, the wounds on his chest - feels like the ground is sucking every drop out of him. William, it calls. It’s you.
You’re the-
*
“Cure.” Eleven squeezes his hand, slightly tugging his arm.
“Mmh?” Will clutches her hand back on instinct, looking down at his sister. They had just gotten her back; not even thirty minutes away from Suzie’s house, Will had started screaming. His brain exploded behind his eyes and he could vaguely register panicked shouting joining his own sudden pain. He felt himself lean violently to the right, hitting something solid soon after. Argyle had swerved the van as he started screaming himself.
“What?! What! Little Byers! Man, what’s going on?!” Jonathan was trying to regain control of the wheel back while repeating Will’s name, wide eyes flickering between the rear-view mirror and the road. Mike had caught him and cushioned his fall on the ground of the backseat, hands hovering for a second before brushing his hair back from his forehead.
“Will? Will- he’s burning up! Will-”
The pain left just as suddenly as it came, and Will found himself underwater. The pieces of his brain scrambled back together, and he saw.
A room covered in rainbows.
A blond boy with the hint of a smile on his angular face.
Blood. So much Blood.
And then Eleven, standing in front of a door in the middle of nowhere.
He could feel something whispering to him, intangible, insistently tugging at the very edges of his soul as if saying follow me.
He opened his eyes with a gasp, mind surfacing from the water. The noise stopped as soon as he came face to face with everyone and honestly, if they hadn’t almost crashed the van and his sister hadn’t just linked her mind with his, he might have been in stitches at the sight of Argyle with a leg still up on the front seat, long hair in his face and Will’s face, Jonathan right beside him with both legs halfway down the seat and holding himself up by his arms. He must’ve gotten stuck in his haste to reach Will, van thankfully not moving anymore. And yeah okay, Will hated seeing his big brother scared because of him, so he swallowed back an hysterical giggle and tried to calm down.
“Slow down, it’s okay. Like this. Match my breathing.” The arms around Will trembled for a second more before closing around him firmly, and he felt himself move slowly up and down. He tilted his head and found himself staring right at Mike, his best friend’s face tense. Oh.
Not the time, he said to himself. Not the time. He swallowed hard again and tried to focus on his breath, carefully matching Mike’s.
“There you go, Will. P-perfect. You don’t feel hot anymore either.” Mike seemed to falter a bit, and Will tucked that single moment of being enveloped in warmth right beside his heart. He had the feeling that Mike wouldn’t have looked away from him first, so he broke the stare to face Jonathan.
“Man that was scary as hell, I lost 10 years off my life. I almost crashed my baby!” Argyle leaned back, righting himself on the ground of the backseat and moving to help Jonathan do the same.
“What was that? You sounded- in pain. Really in pain. Does anything still hurt?” Jonathan was twisting his fingers in the edge of his blue patterned shirt. Will could practically see him hold back from launching the full force of his fear forward. He moved to grab his hand to stop him from worrying, squeezing it like he’d done countless times when he was little; he felt Mike’s hands move from his chest to his shoulders. Will kept his gaze on Jonathan.
“I know how to get to El.”
*
They had found her right in front of that door in the middle of nowhere, Will following the tugging feeling all the way to her - much more convenient than figuring out coordinates on a map of the Nevada desert. The others had wasted no time getting out of the van and running to her, Argyle shouting superhero girlfriend! at the top of his lungs. Will had hung back, staring at that image, reconciling it with the flash she broadcasted in his mind. He had seen El’s figure framed by her long hair flowing behind her, but the girl standing in front of them had a buzzed head. His heart ached; she loved asking him to braid her hair even after he argued every time that he didn’t know how. Then Eleven blew the door up, and promptly passed out.
Will sprang forward, and they grabbed her to get the hell out of there.
The long drive back to Hawkins was halfway through, and by that point he knew what name that blond boy bore before and where he is now, the horrors Eleven had to face and the guilt she carried. They opted to try and make as few stops as possible in their urgency to get back to Hawkins, Jonathan and Argyle taking turns driving. El sat sandwiched between Will and Mike, the latter snoozing away, an arm slack around her waist.
And here she was, looking at Will. The guilt that seeped through her recounting what happened is still there, and Will thinks for a second it’s aimed at him. She rests her head on his shoulder and sighs. “Want to listen to your song. The Cure song.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t think Argyle has that tape in the van,” he whispers, trying not to wake Jonathan and Mike or risk startling Argyle again.
“Your song,” she repeats.
His head falls gently against hers, eyes flickering to the people he loves before he starts humming Boys Don’t Cry.
*
They make it back to Indiana.
Once they cross the state border, they agree that one of the few stops necessary is for food. They could barely stand on their feet, and if the lonely burger joint they were approaching at the side of the interstate could provide cheap food, they would take it.
Will opens his backpack, thankful he had shoved his sparse savings in there before their house was invaded. He ignores the crumpled painting, closing the bag back up. He ignores Eleven and Mike taking a seat in the restaurant, heads bowed together, whispering to each other. He makes his way toward the counter instead to give his brother his wallet when he hears it: the chiming of a clock, echoing in his head. He stops in his tracks and looks around.
Mike and Eleven are still there. Jonathan and Argyle are still there. The cashier is fiddling with the register. A woman passes by him, shoving him, and he stumbles back around towards the door. An old grandfather clock blocks the exit, pendulum swinging. The neon lights of the restaurant flicker above his head.
His neck tingles and his heart-rate speeds up. He takes a step towards the clock, his right hand coming up to his nape of its own accord. William.
“Will? You okay, buddy?”
He jumps, letting out a breath. Jonathan’s voice rings clear over the deep booming sound of his name resonating in his head. The clock is gone. He shivers just as he feels a hand grab his shoulder. He wants to turn around, but something is screaming at him not to move.
“I- thought I saw something. Sorry.” It's just his brother. It’s just Jonathan. So why is bone-deep terror gripping him? Why can’t he turn around?
“It figures. We haven’t even crossed the border and you’re already causing trouble. Don’t tell me, was it a vision of something? Someone coming to get you again? Always you, you, you. Our lives would have been so much easier if you never came back.” That’s his brother’s voice. Calm, a little less steady than usual. And yet he’s never heard venom dripping from it like this, chilling him to his core. His eyes sting and the hold on his shoulder becomes increasingly painful.
“I’m- I’m sorry, I just thought it was something- you’re hurting me.” His voice comes out small and quiet. The realization that he’s speaking to Jonathan like he spoke to their father whenever he gripped him too hard and called him a queer, a fairy makes a fresh wave of fear crash into him. His hands are shaking now. He has to turn around. He has to.
His chest constricts, he blinks, and suddenly a buzzing sound fills his head. The neon lights above him let out bundles of sparks, cheap plastic about to give. His breath comes faster and faster, heart hammering in his throat. The hand on his shoulder falls away and the tension building inside of him explodes as every single light goes out.
Will gasps, unable to scream. The Upside Down trained him to be quiet in the presence of monsters and his body reacts as if it’s never forgotten what it means to try and survive by making the fear sprouting from you so small no creature can smell it. There’s another chime, and the lights come back on but - he’s not at the rugged fifties inspired diner with blue vinyl seats and checkered floor anymore. “What?” he whispers, eyes wide.
This is Surfer Boy Pizza. The ridiculous logo stares back at him, the worn linoleum floor is under his feet, and the thick red lines decorating the place are right at the corners of his eyes. He’s spent enough time here waiting with El and Joanthan for Argyle to give them a lift during deliveries to damn well recognize the place.
“Jonathan! What-” he finally spins around and there’s only his brother in front of him. No Mike, No Eleven, he can’t hear Argyle running his mouth with the cashier.
No please, please not again.
“I’m afraid this is just the beginning, Will.” The grin stretching over Jonathan’s face is so unfamiliar it’s grotesque, but it’s his face. It’s still his face, and his voice, and Will feels the sting in his eyes get worse. He takes a step back as Jonathan takes a step forward, crowding him and clicking his tongue. “Don’t you remember the last time we were here?”
Will does.
“I caught you staring at that long-haired boy, the one sitting right across from us. You gave me these guilt-filled puppy dog eyes, you were so scared, weren’t you? So scared because what dad said has always been true, and there was no turning back from that moment on.” He laughs, deep and cruel. Will can feel something nudge at the back of his mind, prickly like a needle. He can’t focus on it over the tears spilling over, the way he can’t take a full breath in anymore. The humiliation is making his face flame.
“You know what the most pathetic thing is? That you honestly thought I didn’t notice before.” Jonathan is in his face now, and Will can’t move. “You’ve always been a fairy. It destroyed our family.” The harsh sob about to escape Will gets stuck in his throat as Jonathan lifts a hand and chokes him, grinning. “You know what? That boy looked a bit like Mike, didn’t he?”
Will kicks his feet, tears making their way down his face, eyes bulging. He’s gripping the hand around his throat, clawing at it, but it’s too strong, it’s too strong, this can’t be - real. It’s not real! Will! Will, come back!
The needle trying to pierce his mind bursts through in a jamble of voices; Mike. That was Mike. He’s staring right at the ceiling, gasping for air desperately, and suddenly the world around him flickers to the Upside Down and back, vines stretching above him one second and gone the next, the hand around him flesh and then a charred claw extended by a creature that seems made of vines. Focus. Listen to me, Will. Focus. Eleven’s voice.
He tries. He can’t breathe, he can’t make the fear small anymore, he can’t . He’s being lifted up now, his feet leaving the floor. Focus. He squeezes his eyes shut and lets fear grip him, it’s the only thing he can focus on at this moment. His brain seems to catch fire starting at the base of his skull and then something besides snot trickles down his nose. There’s a snapping sound and he finds himself abruptly on the floor, immediately grabbing his own throat and gulping down large gasps of air.
The creature in front of him is staring at its arm; it’s bent at an awkward angle, unmoving.
“Good,” it says, sounding pleased. “Good, William.”
The world around him flickers again. The creature starts blurring and he can’t tell if it’s just because he’s crying. He goes to clumsily wipe off the mess of tears on his face with his sleeve, still heaving, and he comes away with blood on it.
“Good,” it repeats, but it sounds like Jonathan now. The clock chimes again, and when Will blinks, his big brother is standing in front of him and gripping his face with tears in his eyes.
“Good, buddy, that’s it. You came back.” He sounds so relieved, and Will launches himself at him. He buries his face in his shoulder, feeling Jonathan squeeze him back tightly. Focus.
He shakes his aching head to clear the phantom voice echoing in his mind. He lifts his face from Jonathan’s shirt, not wanting to wreck it with blood and snot, but it - it comes away clean. Will frowns; he pulls slowly away from the hug, dragging a finger under his nose. Nothing.
“What’s wrong?”
Will, you can’t leave again - you can’t leave me again! Come back!
Focus. Listen to me.
He stares over Jonathan’s shoulder. Surfer Boy Pizza is still surrounding him. He’s in the kitchen, where Jonathan dragged him that day instead of embarrassing him further to see if they could bother Argyle in giving them a few free slices.
“I can’t let you leave, William. I’ve been waiting so long for you.” Jonathan’s figure morphs into the creature again, and this time he runs. He bangs his right hip on one of the counters, stumbling so hard he crashes through the flip doors of the kitchen. He can hear in his mind slow footsteps following his desperate try to get away; it’s like the sound is imposing over everything else, a thick fog finding home in every crevice it can find. He keeps running and running and once the exit is in sight, he sprints for it and throws himself on the handle to open it.
He tries to breathe, breathe, dammit! but his throat hurts, his lungs burn, the voices in his mind are getting louder again and- there’s a slug on his arm.
He blinks spots from his vision and turns his arm around, looking at the slimy thing crawling his way up. This is not real. It’s not real, how could it be?
I need you! Come back, come back!
He doesn’t even let his mind register that it’s what he coughed up when he came back from the Upside Down before his body is already reacting and he’s shaking his arm to throw the small Demogorgon off of him. It falls in the center of the road and it slimes away towards dark woods lining the street.
I’m begging you, Will, I’m begging you! What’s going on, help him! Eleven!
Focus. Focus on my voice.
He feels like he’s walking in nightmare-air, dense and so real in its absurdity that it makes you move as if you have all the time in the world, just enough for the horrors to catch up.
Out here the voices don’t seem to come from his mind anymore but, from the - sky?
He looks up and reality -at least this reality- is falling apart. Lightning blooms without thunder and pieces of what should be the night sky are falling down and crashing to the ground silent as a dandelion being blown away. He walks.
The road is dark and seems to stretch without end. There’s a bike on the ground a little further from him and at this point he might not know the details of what the hell is happening to him, but he’s understood enough to know that the Thing that has him likes the taste of his fear. That’s his old bike without a doubt.
-Don’t Cry! Sing it! Sing it!
Thunder flashes again as the sky is filled with muffled voices once more; he distantly thinks that sounded like Eleven again. Maybe she wants to tell him something? But where is she? He can’t- he feels lightheaded. Another piece of matter falls behind him, but he keeps walking still, eyes on the bike. He’s almost near it when a lone figure emerges from the side of the road and picks it up. A low chuckle gives away his father, standing before him. Will shivers.
“Should have bashed your head in when I first understood what you were.” His face is amused, and Will is used to it. He’s used to the easy cruelty. The meanness. He’s used to the heartbreak spreading from his chest, too. He swallows.
His father suddenly lets go of the bike and when it meets the ground it shatters as if it was made of glass; Will goes to cover his eyes with his arm, shards brushing past him. When he lowers his arm his mother is standing in front of him, dressed in black; exactly how she was dressed the day of Bob’s funeral.
Her eyes hold such sorrow that Will cowers, fighting back the urge to wrap his arms around himself. She clasps her hands in front of her and shakes her head.
“All that effort to find you. And for what?”
A sob does escape him then, his face scrunching up in pain. He grabs his chest and wails because she’s right. She’s right. His mother went through hell to bring back a disgusting disappointment, an useless good for nothing, whining-
“Such sorrow, William. So much pain you had to endure.” Will cries harder, feeling exhaustion drag him down. He puts his hands on his knees and hunches over, staring at the disappointment on his mother’s face; he doesn’t have to turn around to know that the monster has caught up with him. He really is useless.
“End your suffering right here, right now. Join me, William. I’ve been waiting for you to come back ever since you left.” Vines are sprouting from the ground ahead, advancing towards him. The creature circles him to block the view of his mom and face him, the vines rising up like a mantle hovering around it. Will glances at its sides; no sign of the bent arm to be seen.
“You’ve always been an afterthought. You’re useless to them, all of them. But to me,” Will is definitely having a breakdown because he thinks he sees compassion in the pool of black void that are the creature’s eyes. “You’ve shown me what you can do. You’d be of such great use to me.”
I would say I'm sorry
If I thought that it would change your mind
But I know that this time
I have said too much
Been too unkind
This time the voice coming from the sky isn’t muffled; it travels clearly even if it’s shaky, dodging falling chunks of the world to get to him. The first time he heard Mike’s singing voice was when Holly was around one year old and would kick her feet excitedly everytime her big brother made faces at her and sang nursery rhymes over and over to make her squeal with laughter. It’s only gotten better with age, deeper and piercing even if it’s layered with uncertainty right now. I tried to laugh about it - cover it all up with lies. Will straightens up.
Something crashes beside him and this time it makes sound; Will jumps in spite of himself, head snapping towards what seem to be branches littered with comic books, pieces of paper torn apart. A sign made of wood slides right down to him. Will reads it, mouthing: Castle Byers. A bitter laugh forces his way out of him, the words “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls!” making ripples of hurt reverberate every time like the first time.
I tried to laugh about it
Hiding the tears in my eyes
'Cause Boys
He tilts his head as Mike’s voice shakes harder for a moment, before looking the Thing dead in the eyes. “You can’t make me more miserable than I’ve already been.”
Don't cry
A burst of light over the creature’s shoulder seems to burn a hole in the fabric of this reality, a circle with jagged edges opening up just like a gate until he can make out silhouettes of people becoming clearer as the light dims.
I would break down at your feet
And beg forgiveness, plead with you
He gasps, horrified at seeing his own body levitate on the other side, head tilted up, arms flat by his sides with the palms up. It looks more surreal than the literal falling space pieces surrounding him on this side.
Mike is looking up at his floating body, face blotchy and wet with tears. He's clenching his fists and it looks like his whole figure is shaking. Jonathan is distraught, confusion and terror painted on his face. He's gripping his hair and shouting at him to please come back! let this stop!
Argyle is on a table trying to get at him, but he’s too far up. But I know that it's too late and now there's nothing I can do! Will please! Come back! El, it’s not working! Mike is shouting now, and it’s like his anguish triggers the ground of the side Will is in to shake.
“They don’t love you. What you’re seeing is guilt. You’re a burden to them. Give yourself up to me.” The creature says this as his actions contradict his last request: he moves out of the way and stands aside. There’s nothing blocking his path to the gate. Will could- he could jump out of it maybe, maybe he’ll fall into his body, but maybe this is a trap and the creature will grab him again as soon as he runs past him, but he has to try, he has to try at least, right? Will’s eyes go wildly from the gate to the monster, and he puts a foot back to give him leverage to sprint just as the monster asks, “Let me bleed you dry, William.”
The words slam into him, knocking the wind out of him. Blood. So much Blood. Visions of a room covered in blood fill his mind; Will. Focus.
“El!” he shouts looking towards the gate, frantically looking for his sister. He starts going towards it, but then he finally lays eyes on Eleven; she’s standing behind Mike, tears carving a translucent path on her cheeks. She’s looking at his body suspended in the air, but gradually her gaze drifts. She brings her head down and she turns it- right towards the gate, staring at him. She slowly shakes her head. Has to be you. Her mouth doesn’t move.
Will halts. Wh-What does that mean?
Eleven’s nose bleeds. Blood. Oh. That’s what it means.
He looks at her and nods. He’s crying again. He’s so tired, and he feels so pathetic. But he turns around, and stands his ground. The creature that looks made of burned vines is still there, incredibly pleased. Will knows who he is. That blond boy. One.
“Your suffering will end to make way for greatness, William.” His shoulder is grabbed by a long talon of a hand, and he’s violently pulled forward; he feels his consciousness tilt and it’s so hard to keep a shred of focus he feels his eyes roll back into his head only to realize they’ve been rolled back this whole time. He’s being reunited with his body but instead of jumping out of the gate to break free, it’s his body that’s being slammed into him, condemned to the void. Everything comes crashing down around him, the noise unbearable. The gate fizzles out, stitching itself back together in time for a shout of despair to escape through it.
Will passes out.
*
They make it back to Indiana, but not all of them make it back to Hawkins.