Chapter Text
Will could feel every single place where the worn leather seat was touching his legs in the backseat of the old pizzeria van Argyle seemed to lug around.
Now that they finally found her, El seemed to be a physical and metaphorical barrier between him and Mike, in this case, physical, because she sat right next to him in the middle of the 3 person seat, soaking wet, shivering, and surprisingly ecstatic for someone who just escaped death by the tips of her colored nails.
Will’s painting was long forgotten, hastily thrown into the trunk, getting covered in dust and ashes of old blunts. Every so often Jonathan would glance into the rearview mirror, expecting tears, or some sense of emotions from his younger brother- but unexpectedly he saw none.
Will had reached that point of emotion where the neurons in his brain have decided that tears, anger, or even happiness, are no use to him. He just stared blankly at the seat in front of him, eyes half-lidded and hand limps in his lap, running through the fucked-up series of events that has happened throughout the last day[s?] (- everything seems to run together).
When he was younger and Lonnie had gotten especially bad, Mike was always able to pick up on Will's feelings. When asked how he knew, Mike would just reply “You had that look in your eye” Nowadays his eyes could start popping out from their sockets and he probably wouldn’t even get half a glance from the black-haired boy.
Will's stomach seemed to feel empty, not as if he was hungry, but as if someone scooped out his intestines and replaced them with a hollow feeling that bloomed through his entire body. That feeling always seemed to grow at the worst time in his life, and though he would have expected himself to hate it, it felt comforting. Familiar. Something he could fall back on, like a safety net in the back of his mind, hugging him tightly and keeping him safe.
For a while when they first moved to California, this feeling was the only friend he had. It kept him tied down to his sheets for days at a time, enveloping him and sneaking into his bloodstream. But it wasn't supernatural, it was quite the opposite– it was completely natural. Moving through this haze had become almost a second nature to Will.
But when it got bad- it got really bad. Jonathan would have to physically lift him out of his sweaty sheets just to get him to drink water. And if they were able to get him to shower, he would just sit in the corner, knees tucked between him, staring at nothing. His hair would get matted so badly that his Mom would have to shave it almost down to a buzz cut.
Jonathan and Joyce would get into whisper arguments that they thought Will couldn’t hear, about getting him physiatric help, though trying to explain that the reason a 14-year-old kid has PTSD was because he got trapped in a sci-fi upside-down monster hellhole under our earth would get them all locked up in the loony bin.
When he started to get worse again in California, they had to come up with a lie to tell El why Will couldn't get out of bed, or respond to simple questions- so they just told her he had terrible allergies. Growing up in a secret facility with no sunlight doesn’t exactly get you a lot of information about outdoor diseases.
Will had hoped that Mike would recognize something was wrong through the letters El wrote him- but since she thought nothing was wrong neither would he. As he felt the way-too-familiar feeling slowly grow in the skunk-smelling pizza van, he hoped that maybe this time Mike would notice.
A hand waving in front of his face was the thing that brought Will out of his mind and into the current reality. Straightening his posture and looking over he saw Jane calling his name. “Will… William…. Willlll”
“Huh?” He started blinking hard trying to get the nonexistent haze out of his vision.
“Jesus, did you go off to la-la land or some shit?” Mike snickered and started unbuckling his seatbelt. How long was he out? These zoning-out spells seemed to be lasting longer and longer these days. One of these days Will is gonna get lost in his thoughts and never come back. It would probably be more fun than anything going on in his life right now.
“Go get yourself something from the rest stop.” Jonathan looked at Will with… pity? No- it was more a feeling of understanding. Jonathan was one of the few people that understood him. He always had. Will barely uttered a word in the Pizza kitchen, yet this deep understanding made the silence speak volumes. The silent tears that fell into his older brother's shirt, told Jonathan everything. Everything he needed to know at least.
Will telling his mom that he didn’t think he was going to fall in love.
Waking up in a hospital bed with Mike waiting eagerly next to him.
The pouring rain and resentment in Mike's eyes while snapping “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”.
The hours and hours spent on a stupid DND painting.
Awkwardly avoiding the glance and touch of the girl in social studies.
Shared glances and arm brushes no one else seemed to notice.
Tearing Castle Byers down in the pouring rain, with hazardous chops of a borrowed ax.
Crying in a van, trying his best not to let anyone hear sniffles of chokes coming from behind his hand.
He fucking hated it.
“Wait, do we have any money?” They left the house in such a hurry (they were running for their lives after all), that there was very little chance they thought to bring any extra cash.
“Well, it turns out Argyle was wearing his pants inside out, and on the inside- well outside now- there was some money.”
“Great. Let’s use drug dealer money to buy snacks in the middle of nowhere with an escaped fugitive.” Was Jane an escaped fugitive? She was arrested- then transferred to a secret base instead of the arrest, so if she escaped from the base, does that mean she also escaped from the arrest? There are no exact protocols for this type of situation.
“Get out of the car smartass”. Jonathan chuckled and handed him a wad of sweaty cash, slightly nudging his shoulder. Begrudgingly Will climbed out of the car, unbuckling his seatbelt, and jumped down onto the dusty ground. The truck stop smelled like cheap cigarettes and Will wondered how many caffeine pills had been abused here.
As the (probably bulletproof) glass doors creaked open, and the convenience store bell jingled, Will saw Mike standing in the chip aisle, arms crossed and legs slightly apart.
He couldn’t handle small talk right now, so Will crossed over to the medication aisle, lazily grabbing a beat-up Tylenol box. As he made his way to the cash register, Mike came up behind him, obviously retaining a lot more energy than Will could possibly have at that moment. Will Half-heartedly turned around to see what he could possibly want.
“What is up with you?”
Will sighed and raised his hands in half defeat. “What do you mean?”
“You- you just seem so distant. Is it something that I did?”
Finally, on his nervous end, Will decided to reply honestly for the first time today.
“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s due to the fact that you told Jane that the day your life truly started was the day that I went missing. The day I was fighting to survive while you were romancing a girl who had never experienced the outside world, friendship- much less a relationship. You were 11 falling in love, I was 11 trying to keep living.”
“You know I didn’t mean it that way”
“In what way did you mean it, Mike?”
“That I love Eleven, that she makes me feel- whole.”
Will scoffed. “I love my sister, but she devoted her whole heart to you- while you just sent her half-hearted letters.”
“You know what she told me in her letters huh?”
“What.”
“That she didn’t commission that painting”
“Mike-” Shit. Shit. Shit.
“That she thought you were making it for some- some girl. Why would you lie to me? You’ve been acting all stand-offish since I arrived.”
Will started to laugh, a deep chuckle which caused his shoulders to bob up and down.
“Why are you laughing?”
“Because I at least thought my best friend would remember my birthday.”
“Huh?”
“The 22nd?- My fucking 15th birthday?”
“Shit I’m sorry man. With El getting arrested, and all this shit going on, It slipped my mind.”
“I don’t want to hear any fucking excuses. I’ve heard enough from everyone around me. We had an entire half a day before anything happened with Jane.”
“I’m sure someone else remembered?”
Jonathan is stoned out of his mind half the fucking time, Mom isn’t home, Jane was never told, and everyone else was too busy with their fucking lives- so no Mike, no one else remembered. Is it too much to ask for just a fucking card?”
“Look, I can make it up to you! We can play DND! I can use my characters from my other group and-”
“You joined another party.” Will looked at him, tears welling up in his eyes. It felt like someone carved out his guts with a melon scooper. That familiar emptiness was his only comfort at this moment, and for once in his life, he was glad to have it.
“You fucking promised Mike.”
“Will”
“Fuck you.”
“Don’t do that”
Will stormed off, just in time for Jane to come out of the bathroom.
Will managed to convince Argyle to let him sit shotgun, mostly so he didn’t even have to engage with his former best friend. To think about it, they probably hadn’t been friends for a long time, and anything they considered friendship was most likely just remnants of hope holding on to fragmented pieces of what they used to have.
Maybe if Will wasn’t so fucking clingy and let his friends have their space, he would still have someone to fit into the other half of his puzzle piece. God, even that sounds overbearing.
Curled up in his seat, Wills's mind started to drift apart from anything connecting to his current reality, and before he knew it he was lulled into a deep sleep. When he opened his eyes, he had been teleported out of the shitty pizza van and into some smoky hellscape.
Smoky hellscape?
Oh no. No no no.
It can’t be, they got rid of him- This isn’t real. It can’t be real. Wills's brain must be playing tricks on him- just another stress dream. Even though he tried his best to assure his own mind that he was still asleep, Wills's natural instincts came over, and he started running. All he could focus on was getting as far away from where he could start to feel a presence.
Just as he started to slow down, a slimy vein wrapped around his ankle- and then another around his arm, and he slowly became imprisoned in the wet rope-sized anomalies.
“FUCK.
“I UH- JONATHAN!”
“JONATHAN!!”
“JANE?”
“M-MIKE?” This felt all too real. He started sobbing uncontrollably, forfeiting any previous attempts at escaping his tentacle prison. <> Will was no superhero- he was just some loser who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time and refused to get over it.
His chin was tucked into his chest and his arms and legs were spread out like he was being crucified. God he wished he was being crucified, then he could get all this over with.
No one would have to deal with him anymore- Jonathan could go to college, Mom could move in with Hopper, and Mike could finally go back to his real friends without just talking to him out of pity.
It would be easier if someone else killed him because then he could go out a hero instead of just a depressed lunatic. The last time he tried Mom found him tripping balls on Benadryl and got grounded for trying drugs.
He would rather be considered a rebellious teen instead of being babied by everyone around him.
(“Oh poor Will! You should have talked to us. We will always be there for you! You are not alone! We love you!!!”).
Everyone seems to be much nicer when it makes them feel better about themselves. He’s not sure if he actually wanted to die or if he just wanted something new to happen. Or maybe it was a cry for help. Will started hiccuping and taking ragged breaths when he unexpectedly heard a voice from out of the darkness.
“People are the worst sometimes aren’t they?”
Will recognized that voice almost immediately. He had spent most of his childhood avoiding that voice. It sent chills up his spine, and he started trying to wake himself up.
“You’re not dreaming Will.”
“LEAVE ME ALONE” Will shouted out into the darkness, not really knowing where to aim his voice.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“THEN- JUST KILL ME ALREADY! I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS!”
“You and I have a special connection, Will. There’s a reason I chose you instead of all those other snot-nosed kids. You just weren’t strong enough to see it then.”
Out of the darkness appeared a clean-cut skinny man. He had Shoulder-length brown hair- pushed back, and a jawline that could cut glass. He was wearing a white button-up shirt and slacks that let you easily pick him out of his dirty surroundings. Even as he walked through the mud and ash, he remained perfectly pristine.
“I never wanted to hurt you. I wanted to help you.”
“Killing me would be more merciful than making me- making us suffer like this.” Wills's words had a sort of fire attached to them, something only possible through the hatred gained by years of torment and abuse.
“I want to help you, Will.”
“W-what?” Out of the top 10 things Will never expected to hear, that was probably a pretty high ranker.
“Unlike Eleven-“
“Her name is Jane.”
“Ok... Unlike Jane, you have powers naturally. Not some product of sick twisted experiments- no, you have the real deal.”
This dream was going off the rails now. Will was normal. Perfectly ordinary. And he was ok with that. Jane was the special one. He was the side character. Or the helpless victim who gets no screen time. And he’s ok with that! Fading into the background is what he knows, and what he wants to do. Everyone around him makes enough drama to cover his contribution twice over.
“You’re not dreaming. Trust me. Just try it out.”
“What do you mean?”
But before the man in front of him could say anything else, his surroundings started to fade away, as he felt his body move back and forth.
“Hey Little Byers- nap times over, we are at su casa.”
“I’m awake. I’m awake” Will blinked to get the sleep haze out of his eyes, slowly taking in his surroundings.
A warm heavy hand was on his shoulder moving his body back and forth, too big to be Mike, and too rough to be Jonathan’s (He has got to be the first teenage boy who actually uses the hand lotion in his desk drawer), so he assumed it was Argyles.
WIll stumbled out of the van, and he knew there were people hugging him- he could see and feel them and hear them, but it just felt like he wasn’t actually there.Two steps behind his body. Like all of this was still a dream.
He could smell the ash (why was there ash?) and knew this was a moment of celebration. But his connection to reality was turned off. It was like looking through a mirror glass- seeing everything through a distorted lens, but having your own little world on the other side.
So he did what he always did. He put on a half smile and gave hugs, trying his best to ignore the deep kiss between Jane and Mike.
At first, he didn’t know what bothered him so much. Will had never been any good at making friends, so honestly, he just assumed he was jealous of Mike's popularity. But then it became that he was jealous of Mike's hair- Mike's eyes- Mike’s… lips.
He just assumed something was wrong with him- so he just pushed the feelings down. It worked pretty well, until 4th grade when they had to watch a documentary on the Aids crisis.
According to the gym teacher with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth who showed them the “health” video, it was to “Let them know what happens to those queers” so they “Don’t get any Ideas”- yet it almost had the opposite effect on Will. He was barely able to keep his mouth shut while the images played on the barely functioning projector. He didn’t know it was possible for boys to kiss. He thought that was something only a boy and a girl could do. He had seen it in the movies they rented on Friday nights, covers of the books he caught his mom hiding in her dresser, and the occasional accidental entrance into Jonathan’s room when he was looking for the bathroom after midnight. Was he allowed to do that? He didn't want Mom to think he was weird, and he never really talked to Jonathan about this stuff (they mostly just listened to music). So he kept everything tucked away.
Neatly packaged and preserved, and never to be opened. Occasionally he would have slip-ups, like changing in the boy's locker room, sitting a little too close to Mike, or even spending too long in the magazine aisle at the pharmacy looking at the men's health magazines. He was usually able to play off these slip-ups, but as he got older, it became harder and harder to conceal them. them.
After all the commotion was over, everyone started to head out to their respective houses, leaving the Byers somewhat stranded (Well the Byers + Argyle but he had been through enough with them that he felt like part of the family- but in a pet, goldfish kinda way).
The dusk was now more apparent than it was when they arrived, so everyone began doing that thing where they hastily say their goodbyes, letting awkwardness slowly fill the air. Jane and Johnathan were going to stay with the Wheelers- Jane in the guest room, and Johnathan on the couch (although later in the night he would creep up into Nancy's room.. and do what teenagers are notorious for doing).
Steve’s parents weren’t home (as per usual), and offered Argyle (He thought his antics were amusing) and Joyce/Hopper one of his many spare rooms.
At some point Will had managed to isolate himself from the group and sat on a patch of green behind everyone else, pulling up blades of grass in clumps, picking at weeds- letting his mind wander far away from stupid fucking Indiana.
The cool air against his cheeks no longer affects him nearly as much as it did when he first stepped out of the skunk-smelling van. His clothes were probably stained by dirt and sod by now-but honest to god, he didn't have the energy to care anymore. He barely even noticed that he couldn’t feel his fingers and toes. The chill of the evening hit harder than he thought it would. Perhaps he had gotten accustomed to the California weather, or his body had given up on warming him up.
The smell of the exhaust and the sound of engines starting woke him up out of his dissociative trance, and it wasn’t long until Will realized they had forgotten him.
They had forgotten him.
Even though this fact is nowhere near humorous in any nature, Will started to laugh. It was first airy from the back of his throat, then it slowly moved down to a deep chuckle from his stomach, causing him to double over, chest heaving. They had forgotten him!
He wiped the tears from his eyes and let his consciousness fade into the back of his mind, almost turning his body on autopilot.
He walked for- god knows how long- until he realized he had reached Castle Byers. His socks were completely soaked through, his shoes were caked in mud, and his jeans were covered in damp spots and dirt, though despite all that he remained numb. His once childhood escape now remained in ruins. He could still see the axe marks and split wood that remained from his outburst. He ran his finger along the water-damaged wood, now rotted through and covered in too much moss to give him any splinters.
He could vividly remember all the times he hid in here, shivering cold, wrapped in a damp blanket, reciting the different DND classes and their abilities to the best his memory would allow him.
Lonnie would get really bad sometimes, and Will learned how escape, sometimes literally (running to Castle Byers, getting his legs torn up by pined needles and thorns from tramping through the dimly lit forest at night) or sometimes emotionally.
When Lonnie brought out a six-pack from the garage or came home from the late shift smelling like rubbing alcohol and sweat, Will learned to go somewhere else. He learned to tune out the yelling and the glass breaking and Jonothan cursing, he learned to leave his body when his father grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulled the back of his hair, jerking him around and calling him names- throwing him on the ground, or locking Will in his room for hours. Will still had raised white lines on the back of his neck and the sides of his elbows from the time he got thrown onto the table.
Whenever all the boys would go out and inevitably injure themselves, everyone was always surprised at his first aid skills, and how he could help hide bruises or stop the swelling or bleeding.
He still remembers the smell of the drugstore concealer his mom used religiously, due to how it hid discoloring and was easy to put in your purse, or how he used to draw dragons on his brothers' bandages. How he was teased for being clumsy and coming to school with bruises with the most ridiculous supporting story. How his teachers and parents' friends turned the other cheek when he tried to tell them these ridiculous stories as well.
And most vividly of all, he remembers the day he took Mike to see his safe space- Castle Byers. It was a sunny day, but when you entered the forest you could feel the damp in the air, residing in moss and soil and too covered up by shade to evaporate into the air.
The pile of sticks stood still in a clearing, held together by rusty nails stolen from Lonnies shed, and throw pillows that his mom had just assumed went missing.
They both laid down in the nest that Will had made, giggling about one thing or another. The sun seemed to slip through the gaps in the wood at just the right angle to highlight Mike's freckles. Will wanted to take a picture of this moment and live in it forever. Just the two of them, basking in the sunlight, laughing, and not caring about anything else in the world.
The butterflies Will had in his stomach when Mike pushed his shoulder in a joking matter, or how the stupidest jokes Will could come up with always ended up in a cackling fit, with the two boys holding their stomachs, gasping for air, holding onto each other for support.
Now the reality of what remained only deepened the despair that Will had become accustomed to. It's as if someone put a dark-tinted filter over reality, making everything less dreamy than he once remembered it to be. Metaphorically and physically, everything in his surroundings had disintegrated and was took over by the darkness.
Mushrooms, termites, mold, and centipedes inhabited his once-safe space.
Will went to lay on the ground, and clutched one of the rotten rain-soaked pillows. Dirty water dripped down his arm, and he pressed his face against the frayed polyester fabric. He was positioned on his side, giving up on using any energy to move.
Looking without seeing, he let tears he didn't even know were falling stream down his face.
Maybe this was the end for him. He was forgotten by the group, left alone at dusk with only his thoughts. Maybe he could stage an elaborate death and give everyone another mystery to make about themselves. He's pretty sure Jonothan would be the only one to actually plan a funeral instead of trying to connect this to the mystical. He had no paper for a note but he did have rusty nails all around him, and plenty of time to bleed out. Would the veins in his arms squirt up when cut or peacefully flow? Would the blood mix with the dirt and feed the fungus?
His Mom would lean into Hopper, to further their romantic relationship, Mike would talk about how hard it is to lose your best friend- even if they barely qualified as friends, Jane would mourn his death, but care about her powers more and getting them back to “Avenge him”.
Will didn’t want to be avenged, he just wanted to be remembered. Even after he goes into the morgue with the bloody nails in his hand, everyone would still try and find a way to make it about the monsters- because they wouldn’t be able to accept the fact that they failed him.
He would have done something like this a long time ago, but he was terrified of the pain. He wanted something quick and easy. A gun inside his mouth, a snap of the neck, a fall from the top of a tall building. The last one he had considered many times, something about the thrill and the wind in his hair appealed to him as nothing else in this world did. Maybe it would be like a rollercoaster. Like the shitty ones at the county fair that rock as you drop and feel your stomach fly up to your throat.
He had many dreams about finally taking the final step out of this world, and would either wake up reassured he was alive or disappointed that he didn't really end up escaping. He heard that dreams are a gateway to the subconscious, so his subconscious must be as fucked up as his normal consciousness. In a weird way, Will took comfort in that.
Soft sobs heaved from his chest as the dirt clung to his (now wet) button-up shirt. He closed his eyes and wished as hard as he could that someone would come and find him, and show that they actually care. But as the crickets grew louder and the night grew colder Will realized that no one was coming. Pure hopelessness filled him up and ran through his veins. As he started to reach for one of those nails, he heard a voice through the darkness.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Hopper?” Will spoke in a hopeful way, taking a deep breath and looking up from where he was laid. The only reason he assumed it was Hopper was because he heard an adult male voice, too high to be anyone else he knew.
“No.”
Younger Will would have gotten up and tried to protect himself, younger Will would try to find out who was in the forest at night. Younger Will would have fought to see his family again. But current Will just laughed again. That type of laugh you have in the middle of tears, that seems just seems to make you much more miserable.
He sniffled. “So no one is coming.” It sounded at first like a question but just turned into a statement.
“I’m sorry Will.”
There was a silence, not awkward or uncomfortable, but more of a mourning to any hope that Will had left.
“Look at me, Will”
Will dragged himself into a sitting position, arms covered in mud, pinecones in his hair, and stuck to his skin. It was that same skinny man. Still looking pristine and fresh cut, despite being in a forest.
“If you expect me to fight you or something like that I’m not going to. Lift me up and crack my neck- gouge my eyeballs out I don’t care. Just please do it quickly- I’m not a fan of pain.” Will spoke with surprising clarity and decisiveness. It wasn’t a plead, It was as if he already had made up his mind on it going to happen.
“I can offer you something better than death, Will”
“And what is that.”
“Revenge.”