Work Text:
So look in the mirror
And tell me, who do you see?
Is it still you?
Or is it me?
Become the beast
We don't have to hide
Do I terrify you
Or do you feel alive?
Do you feel the hunger
Does it howl inside?
Does it terrify you?
Or do you feel alive?
- Karliene
*****
Will opens his eyes -
- only to wake up laying on the rocky ground of a hill. He looks around and sees the forest that has started to be formed a few miles behind him. He is started to see that he is mere inches away from the edge of a waterfall. The waters are beautiful, running down the hill and becoming one with the lake beneath it. He doesn't know where he is. Joyce never took him and Jonathan to one of these big natural resorts of destinations that were more famous than their hometown. She couldn't afford very long trips. Will had never seen such a calming landscape in his life.
Where did the Upside-down go? He remembered darkness and vines and the demo-bats from his week of being a captive there. This is not natural.
He stands up and quickly makes a step near the edge of the cliff to have a better view - a foolish decision, risky, but he doesn't much care. He's inside one of Vecna's hallucinations, after all. Nothing can harm him here. None of this is real. The water ends up in the sea with such brutal force that the teen thinks he will be swept away with it, that he will find himself drowning.
"Watch. your. step. You wouldn't want to fall from such a height, would you?"
Will turns on the heels of his sneakers to find a man with middle length hair the color of citrus, deep blue eyes, dressed in a black long sleeved shirt, pants and men's shoes of the same color, smiling back at him.
He isn't as frightened as he thought he'd be, to his own shock. He shakes his head. The movement comes across as more rehearsed than what he would have liked. The despair he feels, after all, is raw and true. "I'm not sure." His mind goes back to Mike and Eleven, how happy they are together, how relieved they were to find each other again after a long time of being separated. "I haven't been finding many reasons to stay in that town for a few years now." That was true. He was - is - tired. Oh so tired.
The blond stranger - hadn't Eleven called him Peter? Hadn't Nancy said another name? Ugh. Will is confused. - remains with a gaze full of mirth, as if Will takes part in some big joke that only him - Peter, Will decides to address him as - is privy to.
"Be careful of what you wish for," he mutters softly. "There was a girl - with red hair and a particularly arrogant streak - who once told me she wanted to leave this world too. She said she had a brother, whom first she loved and grieved, then hated afterwards. She couldn't make up her mind..." Then his eyes stare straight at the light brown ones of Will. "Do you know what happened to her?"
Max. Brave, foolish, splendid Max. Lucas, Will, El, Dustin, Mike and Steve visited her constantly at the hospital. She would live alright... but she would be unable to see from her left eye, more so walk. The doctors suggested to the Party the notion of the use of a wheelchair for the girl, after one more month of treatment.
Will bites his bottom lip lightly so it doesn't hurt that much. He tries to maintain eye contact, not to appear appalled by these grim fragments of memory; of Max with eyes of white. Of twisted, disfigured legs. "She lost one eye, the other one was barely saved. Her arms and legs got broken."
"Did she, now?" hums Peter, a shine of appeasement in his all too bright colored eyes, eyes that resemble calming waters of lakes or even oceans. Eyes too pretty that do not suit him. He doesn't deserve to have them.
"But she's still alive," says Will so to spite him. He's too vexed by how pathetic, how defeated they all are in Hawkins at the moment. Maybe Peter - Henry or whoever - can kill him if he wishes to, but he will not harm the others. The boy is sure that Eleven will stop him, kill him if she has to. Will doesn't wish death to anyone else. There were enough victims of innocent (dead) civilians when Hawkins was split up by that 'earthquake'. He goes on by saying, "So... you didn't exactly get what you wanted. She managed to survive, Max. She's strong. Stronger than you."
"Maybe Eleven helped her out however she cound, in the end," drawls the young man casually. "But... the portal still opened, William, which was my aim, after all. Your friend merely played a small part in its creation." Dimples almost appear when he grins ever so faintly, though it doesn't quite reach his eyes.
Hearing his full name coming off the other's lips makes Will feel nauseous. (Not even Joyce, his mother, called him by it when he got on her nerves.) He chases away the rumbling of unnecessary musings. He has to concentrate. He's here for a reason. He sucks a breath in and murmurs, "Why are you here? Is this one of your attempts to possess one of us?"
'Me,' he wants to say instead, to be more specific. (He is tired of being in the sidelines. He wants to be seen for once - even for something negative. As long as someone notices him. He has a desire to scream, to yell for people to take notice of his mere existence. He adores Eleven, but... It's always about her and Mike these days, and how much Mike worships her and Will - he's sick of it. So sick of it...) But he says 'us'. He prefers to remain on the safe side.
Peter makes three steps closer to him (and Will finds himself side stepping away in return. It's a survival reflex. He doesn't appreciate people getting in his personal space at the best of times - with the exception of the Party.) "Do you feel possessed? Suffocating? Do you hear any music coming from afar?" asks the man, unaware of the teen's discomfort - or maybe not caring at all for it.
Will takes a few seconds to think about it. He doesn't feel any pain, like Max did. He doesn't see vines choking him, like El. He stays... peaceful inside. Once again, he shakes his head. The motion is barely there. "No."
"Then it's not possession," replies Peter, the conclusion for him so simple and obvious. Everything is always simple in his mind.
The boy with the the light brown hair, shaped in that bowl cut hairstyle his mother made by herself every year, a signature hairstyle for their family, his always too sharp eyes that search and search for answers, merely blinks. He feels lost. "What is it, then, if not that?"
"Didn't your mother tell you?"
Will can practically hear the liquid satisfaction in the man's quality of voice. A voice melting like marple syrup, like the one that El loved to spread on her Eggos. He grits his teeth. The spark of fury he had been hiding is now resurfacing, bit by bit. "Don't talk about my mother. You kidnapped her just to have a laugh about it."
"She disappeared for half an hour," drawls Peter, making a show of checking his nails, knowing too well of the erratic heartbeat inside Will's ribcage, the lungs taking in too much air than what he was used to. "Big deal. She still came back in the end, didn't she?"
"Fuck you, she was still creeped out of her damn mind!" he yells. "Everyone was searching for her. We thought she died!"
The use of such a foul language draws the man's attention, who arches a brow, not at all expecting that particular child to be so bold as to express himself as such in front of him. Will was usually on the quiet or the too emotional and kind side. Well, at least he's way more amusing like this. 'Must have took it from his oh so charming mother, that one.' "Well, that's... new. Someone must have had 'self confidence' lessons, hmm?"
"You hadn't threatened anyone from my family before," says Will darkly.
"Ah. So that's what makes you tick, I see..." Peter smiles before his lips are twisted to the side into a mocking sort of grimace. "Well, don't expect me to take away your brother next time. He doesn't have anything nearly as interesting going on with him - and the Wheeler girl doesn't exactly count." His eyes darken the next time he pins them on the teen with the stripped blue shirt and the pair of dark blue jeans. "No. Not nearly as interesting as you and your mother."
If the boy wasn't this much put off before, he is now. "Why would you care about us?" He tries to voice his doubts as quietly as he can. Will is an expert of a heavy atmosphere. He knows when to back off. (Lonnie had taught him that. One of the few useful things that he taught him.)
"Because you're special, William," purrs Peter, his eyes painfully sympathetic. "Or do you think that the fact that you started bleeding from your nose was merely a coincidence?"
"That... that means nothing. Nothing happened, okay?! The lights going off was due to electricity shortage!"
With no prior warning, Peter lifts the boy's chin up, initiating skin contact for the first time, something that startles him. "Do you really believe that?"
"Yes!" cries out Will. "You're lying! There are no powers! There never have been." He exhales and then mutters, "I'm not like... her. Whatever shit happened to me, it didn't happen because I was 'special', it happened because I had bad luck! Horrible, even."
He's shaking. The boy is shaking. He doesn't feel his legs - not because they're broken like Max's, but because he doesn't feel like supporting himself to stand strong anymore. How long had he been waiting to say these things, release them from his little aching heart? He doesn't know. He doesn't even remember to count the time anymore.
There are hands cupping his cheeks, drying off newly created teardrops gently, in the most honest resemblance of comfort and concern, something he only saw in his mother and sometimes Mike, when he wanted to open up, that is.
The boy's pupils dilate from the shock of the sensation not being exactly unwelcome.
"I think..." murmurs the older, his face appearing even more haunting and lovely as he comes closer. "you should stop blaming yourself for everything. It's not healthy. What do you say?"
"You can't..." Will can sense a lump in his throat, a burden, as if his trachea is blocked by something. "...you can't say that."
"Why not?" The man poses the question so calmly yet again. "Because in your mind, villains are supposed to be one dimensional? I'm afraid that doesn't apply in the real world, child. You'll have to rethink your worldview."
"But you want to destroy the earth," protests Will, confused. "That remains."
"No. Not the earth... The humans that corrupt it. And not all of them."
'Not all men. That means-' The boy feel his breath hitch for a second. "Eleven will never go along wi-"
"It's not like she'll have a choice," drawls Peter. "And I wasn't talking about her."
Will gulps. That cannot be what he thinks it is. "Me...? But I told you, I don't have-"
The hands that were whipping off tears now get rougher. The man's nails dig into his cheeks and neck and it hurts. It hurts so much.
"You will have powers by the end of the week. You'll see that I'm right. You won't be able to hide behind excuses anymore..." These fingers relax somewhat. They go back to brush against the teen's skin gently. "Do you still feel like killing yourself?" whispers Peter, "Maybe jumping off a cliff?"
Will merely makes a subtle notion that means 'No' with his head.
"Good."
The boy's eyes trail back to the majestic waterfall. He still has no idea where he is. That remains to be discovered. "Where is this place? Or it doesn't exist at all?"
"Of course it exists," answers Peter easily. "Angel Falls. It's in Venezuela. The highest waterfall in the world. For some people, the most impressive too."
His hands thankfully choose to leave Will's face and instead they are tucked behind the man's back, like they were in these days when he was still a caretaker in the lab.
"I wouldn't know," says Will. "I was never that good in geography." He proceeds to side glance the admittedly too charismatic of an enemy with a bit of worry. He never did like small talk, especially in cases like these when it simply comes across as odd. "Have you been here before?"
"Just once - with my old family. I was nine."
Oh. "Did you... did you like it?"
"Sure. What do you think of it?"
Will watches with the corner of his eye the shining waterfall, with how much force its waters hit the lake before calming down and moving away gently with the rest of the lake and eventually ocean water and says, "I think it's... honestly, rather magnificent."
Peter grins, pleased at the response.
For a while, none of them speaks. But Will still has one question he's been meaning to ask. A question that has been bugging him since the man appeared right in front of his very eyes. "Why didn't you mention the-?"
"The oh so heartbreaking fact that you've been in love with Michael ever since you could remember yourself and that you're practically dying inside every time you see him kissing Eleven?"
Will feels his chest and face blushing before his cheeks actually turn red. "Well, yeah..."
"Because you..." says Peter, his voice drenched in austerity. "...aren't. the one. who needs to hear it. You never were. It's getting way too... touché for me. Your dream boyfriend on the other hand..." He trails off, leaving his words incomplete, yet the implication behind them is more than clear.
The man's blue irises detach themselves from being entertained by the picture of nature in its most elegant form and are focused on the fifteen year old once more.
His lips form a wolfish grin, one of the mean ones. "You're torturing yourself already, child. Honestly, what do you need me for?"
Then Will blinks, before he has the chance to ask anything else
- and finds himself back at Jim Hopper's hut. As if he never truly left.