Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air in Hawkins was clear, clearer than it had been in a long time. Vecna was dead, the Upside Down dead with him. Gone was the heavy red haze, the stink of rot and ominous specs suspended in the air. And yet for Will, it had never been harder to breathe.

Every breath felt like sucking in glass, cutting up his lungs and leaving the taste of blood in his throat. Will felt like he was surrounded by thick honey, each step an effort, each inhale a challenge. He found himself squinting when he looked into the now blue sky, stumbling when he stood too quickly.

Will was sick. The kind of sick where you couldn’t just take a pill and be on your merry way. He was sick, and he wasn’t going to get better.

But it was alright, he supposed. Will was alive. He was breathing, no matter how much pain it caused him. They had made it to the end of the battle. His friends were safe. His family was together again, in the town they had so desperately tried to escape. Even Hawkins was rebuilding, coming alive in a way Will isn't sure it ever really was before. His town was healing, and Will just might live long enough to watch it thrive.

-

When Will first started noticing things were wrong, it didn’t even cross his mind to tell anyone. The Party and co. had just defeated Vecna, fighting an all-out battle for their lives and the town.

Sure, Will’s body hurt and his head ached, but whose didn’t? Everyone was hurting in the aftermath, and Will’s pain was nothing compared to some of the other scrapes the others had come out with.

Lucas had a thick scar running along his chest, Steve had broken his ribs being thrown into a tree, and El had over-used her powers so much she couldn’t see, her eyes so full of blood. Max was still in a god-damned coma after getting her limbs snapped. Eddie was dead.

So no, Will didn’t think it was necessary to mention the way his skin stung against the fabric of his clothing and eyes watered in the sunlight.

Will partly thought his state was due to his and his family’s temporary living conditions. Joyce had announced, to El and Jonathan’s delight, that the Byers family would be moving back to Hawkins. Permanently, this time.

Will hadn’t been surprised. Not one of them had really been happy in Lenora, and now they all had someone pulling them back to Hawkins. Joyce had Hopper, Jonathan had Nancy, and El had Mike. Will shrugged off his obvious lack of ties. He wasn’t exactly happy in Lenora either, he supposed.

Yet the abrupt decision to move had presented an entirely foreseeable problem; they had no house. Their old one, the house he had grown up in, was long gone, and Will couldn't realistically see a way of them getting it back any time soon. So, while Joyce and Hopper searched for a house, the newly formed Hopper-Byers clan assumed residency in Hopper's old cabin in the woods.

This staged numerous challenges for Will. Firstly, the house had been through the wringer with Upside Down related events. The continuous hasty repairs over the years had piled up, leading to Will's second point. The already falling apart structure had been left in the forest for over a year now without any maintenance, fighting and losing against the elements. What they were left with was half-rotted wood balanced above them, dripping with rainwater and infested with insects and other smaller wildlife.

Will's last problem was the sleeping arrangements. He had heard from El that she and Hopper living here together for a year had been quite a squeeze, never enough room for the two of them. Well, now Will could relate, with the total number of five people in the two-roomed cabin. Joyce and Hopper took one room of course, with El reclaiming her old bed. Jonathan had scored the couch, much to Will’s grumbling. Will usually heard him leave during the night anyway, likely sneaking off to go see Nancy.

Will had ended up on the floor of El's room, with nothing but a hard wooden floor below him slightly cushioned by a thin, worn-out sleeping bag.

So, was Will comfortable? No, most definitely not. But he had a place to stay, which was a lot more than a good portion of Hawkins residents could say. When the Upside Down invaded the Right-side Up, it wreaked the town with earthquakes. Whole sections were reduced to piles of rubble, the streets were flooding with emergency services and military, and half the population seemed to need medical attention.

So, Will pulled his (mouldy smelling) blanket higher around his shoulders gratefully.

-

Will had thought his day had been bad when he had woken with a headache pounding away behind his temples, but he quickly found that it could get so much worse. Hopper and Joyce were out searching for a house while Jonathan had run off in the early morning, abandoning Will to his doom with an amused, if slightly apologetic smile.

Will’s doom being El and Mike, of course, who were sitting on the couch in the cabin, making out. Will watched them with thinly veiled disgust, unsure how to get out of the situation. The place was so tiny, where could he even pretend to escape to? He groaned, rubbing his hands down his face before announcing himself to them past the lump in his throat.

“Hey guys!” Will interrupted with false cheer. They split apart for a second, taking deep gasping breaths that had Will subtly rolling his eyes.

“Will,” El greeted, before turning back to the silent Mike.

After a brief kiss, she paused and again turned away from Mike to face Will. Mike groaned, dropping his head against the back of the couch in frustration.

“We are going to the shelter later. You should come.”

At El’s words, Mike let out another little huff while his face twisted up. It wasn’t obvious at all, but Will, who spent far too much time watching Mike Wheeler, noticed every movement.

Will smiled tightly at El, swallowing thickly and blinking fast. “Yeah, sure El, that sounds great.”

Will quickly turned away, but not quick enough to miss El and Mike leaping upon each other. He slid into the kitchen, popping a painkiller before moving to press his forehead against the cool door of the fridge, hoping to soothe his raging headache.

It had been like this ever since they had moved into the Hawkins. Mike was a near-constant presence in the cabin, always with El glued to his side or his lap. They made out in the kitchen, at the table, on the couch, in the bedroom. Will would spend days in the cabin with his best friend and sister without ever being acknowledged, without ever being even looked at.

Hearing them in the next room, part of Will had to wonder if they were doing it on purpose. Sometimes Will would swear he could feel Mike looking at him, only to turn a find Mike’s gaze fixed on El. Or they would just be laying on the couch together, but as soon as Will would walk past they’d suddenly be making out with such passion it put the summer of ‘85 to shame.

It was stupid, and there was no reason for either of them to be cruel like that. Will turned so that his back was now pressed against the fridge, taking deep breaths. He's not sure how long he stood there, breathing in and out, waiting for the medicine to kick in. It was long enough that Mike and El probably should have noticed, should have come in and made sure everything was alright. They didn't.

Will heard El’s voice call out to him after some time passed. “Will! We’re leaving, hurry up if you want to come!”

Will pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes until they ached. His headache had not subsided in the slightest, and Will had a feeling it wouldn’t for a long while. He leaned his head back, blinking away the spots and stars, before responding quietly.

“Right behind you.”

-

Will entered the shelter a few steps behind his friends, a position he found himself in often these days. He trudged after El and Mike through the heat of the early summer, watching as they walked hand-in-hand despite the temperature.

It had been cold when Vecna broke their world. The ice of the Upside Down had stolen the warmth of the sun. But with his death, the heat had returned, harsher than ever.

Will had hated the cold, even before he was stolen away to the Upside Down, but the heat was not a good look on him. He didn’t have a bike anymore, and the hike from the cabin paired with his lack of exercise clearly had an effect by the time they reached the shelter. He was flushed in an unfit, freshly sunburnt kind of way, and dripping with so much sweat the poor shirt Hopper had lent his was beginning to look damp.

The shelter was set up in the old school gym across town, the hardwood floors nearly completely covered in a clutter of tables and boxes. They created a maze, where poorly designed sections provided poorly executed services. A large chunk of the space was occupied by the now mostly awake residents; the people who were caught in the crossfire of the war against the Upside Down.

Though Will was eager to escape the summer outside, the gym quickly demonstrated its own brand of pains. It was packed with people, both the residents and volunteers moving around in a constant, unpredictable flow. The incoherent chatter made Will’s headache pulse madly, escalating to a ringing in his ear. He desperately wanted to sit down and searched anxiously for wherever Dustin had set himself up.

Not a moment too late, Mike pointed through the room to a singular hand. Dustin stood as tall as he could, signally wildly to the trio. Mike tightened his grip on El’s hand and began to lead her smoothly through the crowd, leaving Will to grit his teeth and attempt to push after them.

“Lucas, man! I didn’t know you’d be here!”

Mike's voice had Will's head snapping up when he finally stumbled into the small area Dustin had claimed. Lucas sat at Dustin's feet, dutifully folding away at the massive pile of clothes in front of him. He smiled up at Mike and El.

“Yeah, the hospital kicked me out of Max’s room for a bit. Got to do some tests and whatever, you know?”

"Right," Mike responded compassionately. Will felt his chest squeeze at the tone. Mike hadn't even looked at Will in days, let alone spoken to him. And yet here he was, excited to see Dustin and speaking so warmly to Lucas. Was it just Will then?

“Well, I’m glad you’re here at least,” Mike continued. “What are we assigned today?”

“The great honour of sorting through donated shit,” Dustin explained with of flourish of his hands. He fell dramatically onto his spot on the floor next to Lucas, chattering away as Mike and El sat and closed the circle.

Will stood awkwardly, unsure if to sit on the outside or simply go find something else to do. His saving grace was Lucas.

“Byers, man, you look like shit,” Lucas called out to him with a low whistle. He shuffled until a small space opened up between him and El, which Will gladly slipped into. 

"Could say the same to you," Will responded jokingly. And though the tone was unserious, it was true. Lucas' hair was a tangled mess, his eyes bloodshot and his clothes rumpled. He had been spending every waking moment he could at Max’s bedside, and Will could tell he was irritable about being kicked out. Will was happy to see him though. He missed his friends.

Dustin’s loud laugh drew Will back to the rest of the group. He was smiling widely, his head thrown back and laugh a bit too loud. Will squinted at the bags under his eyes, at the slight stubble which Dustin either forgot or hadn’t been bothered to shave.

“And then there was that time he jumped up onto the table! Do you remember that? HA!” Dustin chuckled freely, his hand on Mike’s shoulder.

Mike laughed kindly. "Oh yeah, man! I totally thought it was going to break. He was jumping up and down and everything."

Will frowned in confusion. He glanced at El for clarification, but she wasn't looking at him, instead leaning her whole body against Mike's side. 

“Or that time he like sprinted away,” chimed Lucas, also grinning. “It was like in the middle of a campaign. I thought he was going to shit himself or something.”

Dustin hollered at that, gaining a few side-eyes from people walking past.

“Oh God, I remember that!” Dustin said after catching his breath. “But then when Eddie came back, he pretended like it was all part of the plan. I called bullshit then and I call it now!”

Ah, now Will understood. He hadn't known much about Eddie, only little comments from Dustin's few phone calls. Will had mostly learned about him after he died. He knew Eddie played DnD, and that his friends worshipped him, especially Dustin. Will didn't have to think hard about what was keeping Dustin up at night. He had been a mess when Eddie died.

“And that one campaign, the one with the frozen ocean? That one was amazing.”

Dustin's eyes swept around the group, from Mike and El, to Lucas, and finally pausing on Will. Will smiled crookedly, unsure how to react. He could have sworn he saw a flash of anger or envy in his eyes before Dustin moved on from him completely.

God, Will needed to go back to bed. The conversation moved on around him as he closed his eyes to try to offset the throbbing in his brain. Why did every day in this town feel like a nightmare?

Eventually Will regained some effort to open his eyes, and began to fold the nearly untouched pile between them all. He didn’t bother zoning back into the conversation. He doubted they’d include him anyway.

Hours passed in a similar fashion; Will silently sorted clothes to the sound of his chattering friends while they absentmindedly folded. Whenever the pile began to look manageable, some other volunteer would walk past and promptly dump another box or two of clothes between them.

It took Will an embarrassingly long amount of time to pick up on the subtle happenings around him. In his defence, he had mainly been zoned out, in a steady motion of grab, scan for holes or stains, fold, pile, and repeat. It wasn’t until he left the circle some hours later to use the bathroom that he finally noticed the people around the shelter.

They had certainly noticed him though.

Will kept his head down as he wove through the volunteers, feeling the stares of everyone around him. Whispers broke out as he walked past, eyes narrowed at his approach. A good portion of the shelter seemed to be monitoring him, or watching him darkly out of the corner of their eyes.

He finally reached the line for the toilet, and let out a sigh of relief, relaxing back into the wall outside. A mistake, as a man dressed in poorly fitted clothes took the opportunity to shoulder Will on his way past.

The shove caused Will to crumble sideways, catching himself with a hiss on his elbow to break his fall. He looked up at the man, confused. The hit could have been accidental, he supposed, just an unavoidable collision in a busy space.

The man looked down at Will, face unattractively scrunched up and scowling, squashing any hopes that this was an accident.

“Fucking Zombie Boy,” he spat. “Should’ve stayed dead.”

Will remained where he had fallen on the floor, stunned. He knew the town hadn’t liked him, but this was the first time an adult had gone out of their way to bother him directly. He shook his head, unsteadily standing up and brushing himself off.

The Party hadn’t noticed his absence and didn't seem to take any stock of his rumpled clothes and shaken expression. Will sat, making himself as small as possible as he quietly and quickly sorted. All the anger and blame and resentment around him was suddenly sharpened into focus, and Will felt his shoulders curl.

Will had only just gotten back to Hawkins, and he had never wanted to leave more.

-

It hadn’t taken his mom and Hopper long to find a house. Everyone seemed to want to leave Hawkins. Will couldn’t blame them. He would’ve left too, if he could.

The old lady who lived with her army of cats on the edge of town, Mrs. Warren, had apparently had enough of Hawkins and its unending tragedies. She had wanted to leave Hawkins as quickly and desperately as the Hopper-Byers coalition wanted a home. By the end of the week, Mrs. Warren had a nice wad of cash and a ride stuffed full of cats out of town, and Hopper held a signed stack of papers and keys to the front door.

El lay sprawled across Will's bed in the afternoon sunlight as he sat on the floor, unloading boxes delivered from Lenora.

“We finally have our own rooms, and yet you’re spending all your time in mine.”

El smiled toothily at Will from her position partially hanging off the edge upside down, her short hair dangling below her.

“Mike’s busy, and if I go into my room I have to unpack,” El confided. “I’d much rather bother you.”

Will rolled his eyes, reaching over to shove El's shoulder. The movement jostled her into sliding off the bed in a heap, landing with a high-pitched squeal. He cackled as she twisted, red-faced, to kick out at him. Will yelped, trying to catch her foot to drag her closer and stop the hits from landing.

It inevitably descended into a wrestling match. Will would have liked to blame his obvious loss on El having superpowers, but alas she refrained, only beating him up classically. At one point she got him with his arm twisted at an angle behind him. His joints had been rather stiff lately, and the twist shot a sharp pain down the length of his arm. Will yelped, banging his other hand against the floor in surrender.

Not a moment after El had released him, Will’s door was slammed open with a bang. Both El and Will jumped, tensing, the instinct from the battle not entirely past them.

“Will! What’s wrong?” Joyce’s panicky voice filled the room. She stood in the doorway, scanning the space frantically for any lurking threat. After a few seconds, a confused Hopper appeared behind her. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? I heard you scream, are you alright?”

Finding no threats in the room, she moved to crouch in front of Will, hands frantically fluttering over him, searching for an injury. Will glanced at El for help, but she just looked down with a guilty expression.

"No Mom," Will replied gently, letting her finish her check. "I'm fine. El's and I were just… playing. My arm just got in a weird position. It's nothing."

El nodded as Joyce took a few deep, shaky breaths in.

“You’re sure?” Joyce asked gently. Her eyes were staring into Will’s, who balked at the intensity. “If you feel anything, hurt or Upside Down related, you tell me. Right?”

Will looked to Hopper in the doorway desperately. Hopper began to move forward, hands landing softly on Joyce's shoulders.

“Yeah Mom, of course.”

Joyce nodded quickly, swallowing a few times. Hopper pulled her up and guided her out of the room, though she still casted glances at Will.

“O-okay honey,” she said. “You two, uh, have fun then.”

She continued to watch Will, worrying her lip, until Hopper closed the door between them.

Will turned to look at El with raised eyebrows.

“That was…” Will paused to find the words. “Something?”

“I'm sorry,” El whispered.

“No, El,” Will said quickly, straightening up to look at her fully. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I hurt you.”

“You really didn’t,” Will said truthfully, shaking his head. “I don’t know why Mom acted like that. She’s never been so- so frantic like that before.”

El looked down at the ground before standing and giving a stretch that looked far too forced. “I might leave now.”

“El,” Will pleaded. “You don’t have to leave. I didn’t mean it about you bothering me earlier. I like having you around.”

El smiled at that, though smaller than it had been before. “Me too. But it’s okay. I’m going to go see Mike.”

“I thought you said he was busy?” said Will quietly.

El shrugged, moving towards the door. “He might be done by now. I’ll wait for him.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll see you at dinner?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

Will swallowed, before giving her a small wave. “Okay then. Stay safe.”

And with that, El left, taking the brief reprieve he had felt with her. He collapsed backward onto his floor. The carpet smelled of cats and cigarettes. Eventually, his thoughts drifted back to his mom’s earlier overreaction.

Will was experienced with overprotective Joyce, and usually, he found it justified, if annoying. He had had to suffer through a year of constant monitoring before it eased up into just near constant monitoring. But he had hoped that with Vecna’s death it would tamper off into nothing.

He rolled his head to look at the door. Something about this felt different. Joyce’s panic had seemed… frayed, hysterical almost. Will closed his eyes, taking in the stale scent. His breathing seemed to be shallower lately, his chest feeling tighter.

When he opened his eyes again, the sun had moved fully across the room. Will layed in the near darkness for some time.

-

Will found it easy to slip away in the mornings. He'd been waking up early lately, his muffled coughing rousing him long before the sun began to rise. The only sound was the creaking floorboards as he floated through the quiet house.

In those early hours, Will often ended up at the quarry, legs dangling from the cliffs above as he watched the sun.

For a house Will had been so eager to have, he found it hard to stay there. Hopper and Joyce were only home in the evenings, and Jonathan usually only came for a quick change of clothes before leaving again.

El was usually off somewhere with Mike. She’d been coming home agitated lately. Will wondered if Mike had begun to ignore her as he ignored Will. He was surprised to find himself rather detached from the whole situation.

The quarry had been a welcome relief for Will. Technically he wasn’t supposed to be out in this far. No one in the town was really, till they had sorted everything out with the earthquakes. But no one had tried to stop him, so either he was sneakier than he had thought, or no one cared. Will figured it was the latter. 

He knew everyone hated the quarry since his fake body had been planted there. People of the town tended to avoid it. His mom's breath hitched whenever it was mentioned. Mike used to get this look, as though he was about to cry or throw up or both whenever they used to bike past the path leading to it.

But Will had never had a problem with the place, had never been fully able to associate it with the stories he had heard. To Will, it was simply a place where he could be alone, could dangle his feet off the edge and watch the water swaying far beneath him.

-

At night, through the blank walls of Will’s bedroom, he began to hear screams. It wasn’t that nightmares were uncommon in the Hopper-Byers household, rather the opposite was true, really. What shook Will was who the screams came from. Through the white walls from the next room over, were the screams of Joyce Byers.

Will had thought it would be a one-off, that his mom was having a bad day or something. But night after night, day after day, Will heard his mother scream like she was being murdered, sob like someone tore her heart out, and gasp for breath like she was drowning.

He watched from afar as she entered the kitchen every morning with bags under her eyes, watched as she stopped looking Will in the eye. She still smiled at him, still ruffled his hair and made him burnt eggs for breakfast.

But Will could how exhausted she looked, how her shoulders slumped. Sometimes he would catch her zoned out, staring lifelessly at nothing until Hopper gently whispered to her would she come out of it.

At night, when Will could hear her screaming, all he could do was turn over and press his hands to his ears.

-

The Party was split up upon entering the shelter, much to the groaning of all members but Will.

“I won't let them separate us,” Dustin said to Lucas, his tone dramatic and playful. He puffed out his chest, looking all the world like he was acting out a scene from a movie. “I worked too hard to find you! I won’t let you go this time.”

"Oh, Dusty-bun!" Lucas squealed in mock delight. "I knew you meant it when you said we would always be together!"

“Of course, my love,” Dustin said, voice dropping low and husky. “I swore-”

“All right folks,” the lady at the desk interrupted. “Move along, you’ve got jobs to do.”

Will rolled his eyes at their antics as everyone walked away. Lucas and Dustin were still casting longing glances over their shoulders, making El giggle.

Will had been assigned to the medical wing, for which he was thankful. The last few times they had been assigned to heavy lifting duties, including moving boxes, tables, and donated stuff that was in the way. It exhausted him, and Will always returned home to find his body littered with bruises despite him not being able to remember anything happening to warrant such a display.

He was quickly put to work sorting the supplies into take-home kits. From his position he could just see Lucas, who had his head down, speeding through whatever task he had been assigned with more effort than all the people around him combined.

Will didn’t throw himself into the work. He never really cared enough too really. Coming to the shelter was just something to do, something to get him out of the house and stop his mom from worrying.

But Lucas had been spending nearly all his free time here, Dustin too. They seemed desperate to do something, anything to keep their minds off the memories of the young man with his chest torn out and the young girl with her limbs snapped. Will found the day to move slow, but also fast in the same way. People around him dropped boxes a bit too loudly, almost trying to make him finch, or snatched the kits out of his hands with just a bit too much force.

He saw Dustin hurry to Lucas sometime around midday, signalling to him. After a brief exchange they both moved off, disappearing into the crowd. By the time the woman taped him on the shoulder and sent him off to lunch, Will gratefully slunk off to find his friends.

But Lucas never returned to his post, and he couldn't seem to find anyone else around the room. Will was headed towards where he knew El to be, buttering sandwiches by the door to the courtyard when he was interrupted by the very same Party he was looking for.

“Will!” El yelled, calling his attention. She stood with Mike beside her, not touching for once, with Dustin and Lucas lingering behind. Lucas waved and Dustin gave a lazy smile. Mike, as usual, didn’t look at him.

“Hey, are you guys going to lunch?”

It was Dustin who responded to Will’s question, voice light and unconcerned. “Nah man, just on our way back from it.”

“Oh,” Will said, brows furrowed slightly. “You… already had lunch? Together. All of you.”

“Yeah, you just missed it,” Lucas said easily. 

“Oh,” Will said again. He pressed his lips together, unsure whether to continue this conversation. After a moment, he opened his mouth again. “Why didn’t anyone come to get me?”

"It wasn't planned or anything," Mike said, defensive. "We just all happened to get off for lunch at the same time. It's not a big deal."

“…Right.” Will conceded weakly. Part of him was too surprised that Mike was even talking to him to come up with a better response. Mike hardly acknowledged him, yet Will felt a pathetic flutter in his stomach to even have his existence noticed. “I’ll just, go have lunch by myself then.”

“Okay,” El agreed easily. “We’ll see you later.”

Will watched as his friends walked as one back into the shelter, leaving him standing alone. He had seen Dustin cross the entire hall to get Lucas earlier, yet he couldn’t have walked a few more paces to get Will? Why? What had Will done?

Will felt himself sink a little, felt his emotions withdraw just a little deeper. He turned slowly, walking out of the gym and into the heat of the sun blaring down from above. He could hardly feel it.

- 

“Do you want to do something today?”

Will's voice cut through the silence of the morning. He and Jonathan were the only ones still at home due to the late hour. Jonathan, who was rummaging through the couch for his keys, paused to look at Will at the kitchen table. "Do what?"

“I dunno,” Will mumbled down into the half-eaten cereal in front of him. He hated how unsure his voice sounded. “Anything. We could go down to the record store, or maybe just watch a movie?”

“Aww,” Jonathan chuckled. “You still wanna go to the movies with your big brother? Aren’t you sweet.” 

Will smiled tightly. “Sure.”

Laughing, Jonathan continued to search for his keys. “Sorry kiddo, I can't today. Got some stuff to work through with Nancy, not to mention finding a job around here. Yikes.”

Jonathan shot Will an exaggerated look of exasperation, clearly expecting Will to laugh, or even a small smile. At Will's impassive stare, Jonathan finally dropped the act. He sighed, turning to face Will fully, hands on hips. He looked tired, as though the conversation was a nuisance. Will fought back a flinch at the treatment.

“Look Will, I'm sorry, I just can't today. I’ve got a lot of shit going on that I don’t want you to have to deal with. You should be going out, playing with your friends.” Jonathan looked to Will, who was desperately trying to school his expression to hide his hurt.

Jonathan sighed again, huffing, “We’ll do something tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

“You said that yesterday.”

Jonathan laughed dismissively, not catching the way Will’s face fell. Jonathan turned back to the couch to continue his rummaging, choosing not to respond till after he victoriously pulled his keys from between the cushions. After a moment, he pulled out his wallet and strode over to the table. He smirked a bit, before pouring out the coins into a messy pile. 

Will stared at the coins with confusion.

"There," Jonathan declared happily. "Go off to the arcade or something. Have fun, be a kid. I'll see you later." With a rough ruffle of Will's hair, he walked out of the house in a flourish of actively, leaving Will sitting still and alone.

He looked down at the coins blankly. Will found it a little odd, to be treated like a kid again. Some part of him still felt like a kid, he supposed. The part of him that missed his mom’s hugs and smiles, missed his brother’s mixtapes and reassurances. But he mostly felt so old, after everything he’d been through. He felt ancient. It sat like a blanket over him, snuffing any anger or sadness of the situation.

Will sighed, dumping his soggy cereal down the drain, and headed back to bed even though it was nearing the afternoon.

The pile of coins remained untouched on the kitchen table. 

-

When the nose bleeds started, Will knew he had to throw in the rag and acknowledge something was seriously wrong. He’s been brushing over every ache, every pain and discomfort away under the guise of ‘just a post-battle twinge’ or ‘it was simply from the stress of moving’.

But when he began to wake, morning after morning, with blood crusted under his nose and dried on his pillow, he finally called it for what it was.

Will wasn’t exactly a stranger to being ill. He’d been a sick kid, having spent much of his childhood in bed with a fever or in the hospital with pneumonia. His familiarity with the feeling was exactly why he could tell that this was different.

He sat at the quarry again, lying on the ground with only his feet sticking off the edge. The sky above him was beginning to lighten up with the rising sun. He bent one of his legs towards him, scraping the sole of his shoe against the dirt and stone. He winced at the way his muscles went taut in his calf. His head felt too heavy on his neck.

It had been gradual, creeping up on Will in the background, influencing him before he even began to recognise it for what it was. He wasn’t sure it’d matter if he had noticed it immediately. He didn’t think he would be walking away from this either way.

Will knew he was sick, but he just couldn’t seem to find it within himself to care. The forest was steady around him. The leaves rustled in the wind and small critters scrambled in the undergrowth. He should leave. But he doesn't.

-

Will had planned to tell his mom. It's not like he could keep his sickness under wraps forever, and even if he could, she's bound to notice when he suddenly dropped one day.

He spent the morning at the quarry as usual but came back to the house when the sky lifted from an inky black to a dusty grey.  He'd decided that the best way to break the news would be over Saturday breakfast, that way she would have the whole day to process it with Hopper at her side.

Will main problem with the plan was the actual cooking breakfast bit. By the time Will had made edible scrambled eggs on toast, he had four servings of blackened eggs shoved shamefully into the garbage, and a new understanding that if he ever moved out, he would be surviving solely on cereal and cups of noodles. He swore that he would never make fun of his mom’s cooking abilities ever again, as the lack of talent was clearly genetic.

Will stared at the breakfast before him, reluctant to move on to the next part of the plan.

Every time Will was in danger, every time he was hurt or kidnapped or upset, Joyce was always his first protector and advocate. She would and had gone through hell and back for her son. Will just wished he didn’t have to keep sending her there.

Will dragged his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. She had to know. He had to tell her.

The sun was well and truly up, and Will felt safe in assuming that Joyce and Hopper were awake and lazing in bed. He still walked down the hallway quietly, on the odd possibility that they were still asleep.

He paused in front of their door, head turned to listen for any noise inside. His brow furrowed at the low murmuring. It wasn’t the kind of talk Will expected for the time. Turning back, he spied a small gap in between the door and frame where it hadn’t shut completely.

Will manoeuvred himself carefully, hovering just so he could peak through the gap. It took a second to make out his mom, curled on her side and obscured beneath a pile of blankets. She didn’t seem to be moving. Will began to think that she was just still asleep, and began to back away.

However, the murmuring gave him pause. Moving closer to the gap, Will craned his neck to get a better angle into the rest of the room. There, kneeling on the floor by Joyce’s bedside, was Hopper.

Will strained his ears, desperate to hear what he was saying. 

“Come on, Joyce,” Will caught Hopper saying, words muffled. Hopper sounded so, so gentle. Softer than Will had ever heard him before. “Please, just sit up for me? You don’t have to get up yet, just- just try sitting up, yeah?”

Will shifted to again watch his mother. She remained motionless on the bed, and Will slowly moved away from the door. He wasn’t meant to be seeing this.

He slipped back into his room, turning the doorknob closed gently so as not to alert Hopper and Joyce that he had been hovering in the hallway. When the door finally shut, Will turned to press his back against the wood, sliding down till he sat on the ground. He pulled his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them, heaving a sigh. Will knew his mother hadn't been doing well. The screams and cries at night hadn't let up, and now, her not even wanting to get out of bed was the final confirmation.

Will figured it all finally caught up to her. Years of being in a constant state of stress, of fear, all finally just ending on a random Tuesday. She had been breaking since the battle ended, Will had seen it when she had panicked over his and El's wrestling. And now, it seemed she had finally snapped.

How could he tell her now? She was barely holding herself together. Will could see the strain whenever she smiled at him, always trying to be so brave and strong in front of him and Jonathan and El. Joyce was one little tap away from shattering altogether, and news of Will's condition would be like slamming her with a baseball bat. 

Will gripped handfuls of his hair, squeezing into fists and causing sparks of pain on his scalp. It calmed him slightly, whatever panic he was feeling slowly ebbing away. After a few minutes of deep breathing, he released his hands and lifted his head, staring at the wall opposite to him with a blank look.

“I won't tell her,” Will told the empty room. “I mean, I will. But… eventually. She doesn’t need to know. Not right now anyway. Now- right now, she needs to worry about herself.”

Will nodded, agreeing with his declaration.

A knock startled him, and his door opened forcefully. Will, who was still leaning against it, was pushed forward, landing awkwardly as he twisted back to look at whoever the offender was.

“Will?” El said. “What are you doing down there?”

From his bent position on the floor, Will shrugged. “Just, I dunno, hanging out.”

El raised an eyebrow, giving him an unimpressed look. Will continued to not move, despite how uncomfortable it was.

“Alright,” she conceded. “Anyway, did you make those eggs in the kitchen?”

“Yeah actually I did,” Will said, a hint of pride in his voice. “You can have them if you want though. I tried a bit, so there edible at least.”

Edible seemed good enough for El, who began to turn away, closing his door again. “Alright, thanks!”

Will picked himself up off the floor only once the house well and truly began to fill with movement. He'd heard his mom and Hopper amble down the hallway some time ago and felt it was time to face them. He entered the kitchen to see his family all sitting around the table, El with a cleared plate in front of her.

Will looked at his mom, who pecked at a plain piece of buttered toast. She looked tired, eyes red and lips chapped. Hopper was casting her glances out of the corner of his eye, trying and failing to mask his concern.

When Joyce saw Will enter, she smiled at him for a moment before her brows furrowed with concern.

“You look a little pale honey,” she said worriedly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah Mom,” Will lied with a smile of his own. “I’m feeling just fine.”

-

Will felt sweat sliding down the back of his neck as he walked through the empty streets of Hawkins. His mom had sent him to return some clothes Karen Wheeler had insisted they take while they were still getting settled. Now everyone had unpacked with access to clothes of their own, Joyce had found it imperative that the clothes be returned.

He had planned to go over with El, mainly as a buffer between himself and Mike in case they happened to cross paths, but by the time Will had returned from wandering the woods that morning, El had already left. So, Will trudged with a box full of clothes through the suburbs alone.

He felt the heat getting to him by the time he knocked on the door. It was nearing midday, and the sun had Will’s mouth dry had head feeling full of cotton.

When Mrs. Wheeler opened the door, her bright smile took him by surprise.

“Will!” she exclaimed. “Joyce mentioned you’d be dropping by sometime. And oh dear, you look tired. Let’s get you out of the sun.”

She kindly ushered Will through the door, lifting the box out of his arms and dropping it carelessly off the side. She steered him to sit at the kitchen bench, before turning away to fix some refreshments.

“Here you are darling,” Mrs. Wheeler said, setting a glass of chilled water down in front of him. Will gulped it down eagerly.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Wheeler," Will said, panting slightly.

"Oh Will, you have always been so polite," Mrs. Wheeler smiled at him. "It's so nice to have you all back. I've missed Joyce terribly, and I know Nancy missed Jonathan too. And Mike, of course, calling your house nearly every day, and lord, the money he spent on postage. I'm afraid my family has become entirely dependent on yours."

Mrs. Wheeler laughed, and after a second Will joined in. His eyes slid away from her, fingers nervously fiddling against the cold countertop. Will didn’t have the heart to tell her that not a single one of those calls or letters had been for him. Will didn't think Mike had missed him at all, really.

Mrs. Wheeler moved to sit down, giving him her full attention. 

“So, tell me all about Lenora. Whenever I asked Mike about what you were up to, he’d just grumble and storm off. Such a teenager, that boy.”

Sunlight streamed in through the window to where Will and Mrs. Wheeler sat across from each other at the kitchen bench. She watched him with such genuine interest, with such pure motherly fondness that Will felt a bit like he might cry.

It had been a long time, a really long time since someone had asked after Will like that. Since someone was concerned about him, and sought him out for him, rather than the Upside Down.

"Lenora was… warm," Will said finally, his voice cracking. After a moment, he continued, surprising himself with the honesty of his words. "I didn't like it at first. I hadn't wanted to move away from my friends, and have to start at a new school and everything. But, I don’t know, it was different there.”

Mrs. Wheeler didn’t try to interrupt Will, only nodded along to show she was listening. At his pause, she smiled a little, encouraging him to go on.

“Not everyone knew each other like they do here,” Will continued. “At first it was weird, but I guess it was just easier. I’m not sure I was happy there, you know. But I think I was happier.”

“Does your mom know this?” Mrs. Wheeler asked gently.

“No,” Will admitted, avoiding her eyes. “Like you said earlier, everyone else is happier back here. Jonathan’s finally starting his own life and Mom is moving on with hers.”

“Still, you know she would do anything for you.”

“Yeah,” Will replied weakly. “I do.” And look where that’s gotten her.  

Mrs. Wheeler clearly picked up on Will’s emotions, a talent her son had very much not inherited. She moved away from the counter for a moment, returning with a container full of biscuits and setting it between them. 

“I, for one, am happy you’re back,” she said affectionally. “It’s been odd, not having you running around my house. I never put away your sleeping bag, you know. I was always half expecting you and Mike to be right around the corner with puppy eyes, begging for a sleepover.”

Will smiled at the memory, and yes, his eyes were definitely prickling. The conversation continued on, calm and sweet. There were no hidden motivations, nothing Upside Down related, just simple conversations about their lives.

Will hadn’t realised how much he had missed Mrs. Wheeler. She had been a constant presence in his childhood, one more person who stood between him and the glares of the town. She never tried to stop her son from playing with Will or called him names, only made him a hot chocolate and helped him zip up his jacket.

Mrs. Wheeler watched Will warmly, fondly, before her brow furrowed.

"If you ever need anything, Will, you can come to me," she said with utmost sincerity. "No matter what. If it's something with Mike, or your mom even, I just- I just want you to know that I care about you, and I'll help you in whatever way I can."

Will looked down, chest warm and eyes suspiciously wet. It was nice, so nice to have someone care. Will felt like he was one nudge, one small shove from letting it all out. How he was being forgotten, being ignored. How his mom couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings. How he was sick.

Will took a shaky breath and opened his mouth.

Whatever he was about to say was cut off by the sounds of a door being slammed deeper in the house. Both Mrs. Wheeler and Will jumped, turning in their seats as multiple pairs of loud footsteps made their way towards them.

“Come on, I wanna go before it gets busy!”

"Well, then why didn't you bring it up in the hours we were hanging around doing nothing then?”

“Oh shut up! I know you want to go too.”

“Honestly Dustin, I couldn’t care less.”

Will watched as Dustin stumbled into the view of the kitchen, followed closely by Mike and El. Will froze and saw how his friends paused too in catching sight of Will.

“Will?” Dustin asked, perplexed.

“What are you two doing?” Mike asked, more to Mrs. Wheeler than Will. Mike looked between where they sat across from each other with confusion and sensed the heavy atmosphere the Party had intruded upon.

Mrs. Wheeler smiled tightly at her son, but Will could see the gleam in her eye that promised later reckoning. “Will and I were just catching up. It’s been a while since he was over, and you haven’t told me anything he’s been up to.”

Will looked to Mrs. Wheeler with despair, before turning back to the others with his hands out to placate. Will was thrown, and anxiously trying not to show it.

"I was just dropping off some stuff we borrowed for Mom," Will said, nodding to El to confirm his words. She just shrugged.

“Whatever,” Mike dismissed. “We’re leaving, Mom. I’ll be home for dinner.”

Before he left, Mike looked over his shoulder, throwing a targeted glare right at Will. It was probably the first time he’d looked at Will since Vecna was killed, and Will felt himself shrink in his seat. He had overstepped, had forgotten himself, and Mike had so simply reminded him.

It wasn’t until the group had left the house that Will belatedly realised that they were all hanging out together. Without him. He wondered how many times in the past so many weeks they had all gotten together in Mike's basement, laughing and talking.

They had just walked right past him just now, unconcerned whether he knew.

The sunlit kitchen lost its warmth, the day felt less tender. The world withered around him, and Will suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. 

"Will," Mrs. Wheeler interjected. He looked to her, his eyes wide and pained. She grimaced, opening her mouth to attempt to alleviate the situation. Before she could say anything, Will abruptly stood from his chair.

“Oh, you know what?” Will said, voice a pitch too high. “I-I just remembered, I have some other jobs I need to finish for Mom! I better get to it.”

“Will,” Mrs. Wheeler tried again, half standing out of her chair. But Will was already across the room, heading for the door.

“Thanks for the biscuits, Mrs. Wheeler,” Will said politely. He grasped the handle, but paused, not yet opening it. He turned back to look at where Mrs. Wheeler was, half sitting, half standing, watching Will sadly.

"If you need anything, Will…" she left the offer hanging.

Will took a moment. His reply was a regretful, “I’ll see you around.”

And with that, Will turned and left the house.

-

Will visited Max later than he would have liked. The hospital had been busy with the overflow of earthquake-related injuries and had asked visitors to be kept to a minimum. Will had complied but had felt the guilt of not supporting Max, despite her still being asleep.

Will loitered awkwardly with an arm full of flowers at the front desk of Hawkins’s General, then loitered awkwardly outside the entrance of Max’s room. He knocked, but after waiting a moment with no answer, he hesitantly opened the door.

It was empty inside other than Max, though there was evidence of others having passed through. Lucas's jacket was hung over the back of a chair on the other side of the room, and a small pile of books was amassed on the bedside table.

Max was still comatose, her body breathing, limbs wrapped in casts and eyes covered with clean bandages. She was a mess of tubes and wires connected to machines which produced a steady, constant beeping to mark the seconds. Will watched her for a moment, before edging further into the room.

The flowers in his arms were beginning to get heavy, so Will gently slid the books to the side of the table and placed the vase. His mom had suggested them, bright yellow sunflowers which stood straight and happy. Will thought vaguely that Max would probably hate them. He hoped she’d wake up just to have them thrown out.

Will smiled at the thought, shifting where he stood beside her. He hadn’t known her awfully well, he’d admit, with her having only joined the Party for around a year before Will moved to Lenora. And even then, she had always been more of Dustin and Lucas’ friend, while Will had always been more of Mike’s.

Though the invisible lines were drawn, Will and Max had been friends. Friendly, at the very least. Will moved to watch Max while sitting in the chair, feeling the familiar guilt beginning to climb up through his stomach.

Logically, Will knew none of this was his fault. He hadn’t asked to be taken by the Demogorgon, he hadn’t wanted his connection to the Upside Down, and he hadn’t asked to be saved. But watching Max’s obscured face and casted body, he couldn’t help but feel like this was all his fault. If he had just died in those woods, if everyone had just let him go, maybe things would have been different.

Maybe the Demogorgon wouldn’t have gone after the others, after Barb. Maybe Bob would still be alive. Maybe Max wouldn’t be in a coma. Maybe, everyone would be happy. Or at least, happier.

“I’m sorry,” Will said to Max quietly. It didn’t make him feel better. He was glad it didn’t.

Will sat in the seat, listening to the machine's beep. The view from the window was mediocre, mainly filled with the traffic and surrounding buildings. Such a boring view, yet Will wondered if Max would ever get to see anything like it again. 

Will jumped when the door of the room opened suddenly, his gaze snapping away from the window. Lucas stood in the doorway, looking equally startled to find someone in what he had thought to be a nearly empty room.

“Will,” Lucas exclaimed, eyes darting to Max’s sleeping form. “What are you doing here?”

“Just visiting Max” Will explained plainly.

“I thought the hospital didn’t allow visitors,” Lucas said, voice steady.

"Oh yeah, they lifted that a while ago. It's more discouraged than anything now," Will tried to say evenly. He was worried his voice wavered a bit. The way Lucas was still standing in the doorway questioning him had Will feeling like he was being interrogated.

"If it's discouraged, do you really think it's smart to be here?" Lucas continued.

Will tried for a smile, despite picking up that he wasn’t welcome.

“Well,” Will reproached. “I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?”

“Right,” Lucas said stiffly. He remained standing, attempting to go for a casual pose leaning against the wall. The position moved him slightly closer to Max, and Will could see how tense he was.

They remained in heavily uncomfortable silence. Will drummed his hands lightly against his knees, looking anywhere but Lucas or Max. After neither of them saying anything or moving, Will spotted his sunflowers, sitting peacefully on the table across from him.

"Oh, I brought flowers, to-" Will began, rising and taking a step towards Max to showcase the flowers. However, the second he began to move in Max's direction, Lucas jumped up. He hurdled forward, positioning himself between Max and Will.

Will blinked at Lucas, who blinked back. He had been the kindest to Will out of the Party as of late, the only one not actively ignoring or forgetting him. Yet Lucas had moved so instinctually, desperate to stop him from reaching Max.

“Why did you jump between us?” Will asked unthinkingly.

“I- I don’t know,” Lucas stuttered, looking jumbled. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to her.”

Anything to happen to her? What did he think Will was going to do?

“I-,” Will said, voice incredulous. “Did you think I was going to hurt her?”

“No!” Lucas called, backing away from Will with wide eyes. Will remained where he was, body flushing hot and heart pounding. “I mean yes! Well, no, not like that! I just reacted.”

“You reacted,” Will said slowly, needing to understand. “Because you thought I would hurt her. All I did was stand up!”

“I don’t know!” Lucas said, near yelling.

“Why would you think I would hurt her?” Lucas was shaking his head, but Will powered on. “Why would you think I would want to?"

"I don't know. I don't know!" Lucas looked at Will with despairing eyes. "I just saw you move towards her, and – I don't know! I've just been so on edge lately, that at the smallest threat I just-"

“Threat?” Will asked, voice quiet but fixed.

“Will, I didn’t mean it like that!”

“You think I'm a threat?” Will’s voice was so disbelieving, so hurt.

“No,” Lucas groaned, hiding his face in his hands.

Will stood with eyes wide. His lips were pressed together tightly, though he couldn't hide the slight trembling to them. He was breathing in short, almost panicked breaths.

“Look, Will,” Lucas said sombrely, finally facing Will. “I think that you should leave.”

Will stared at him, stunned. After a moment, Will nodded.

“Yeah, I think you might be right.”

Will cast one last glance at Max before striding out of the room, movements angry and steps fast. He marched through the hallways, past the front desk and out into the road. With no bike, Will continued on, undeterred, through the streets of Hawkins, and didn’t stop till he reached the woods. Even when his legs began to ache and his head to throb, Will persisted, unable to stop, unable to think.

Lucas. Some part of Will had been holding on so tight to Lucas. Dustin seemed to hate Will for not grieving Eddie and would scarcely talk to him. Mike had been a dick to Will for years, and now was purposely ignoring him. But Will had thought Lucas was better than that.

How long had he been thinking of Will as a threat? How long had he been watching Will out of the corner of his eyes like the rest of the bloody town? How long had he been pretending to be his friend?

Will halted to a stop deep in the forest, so abruptly that he startled himself. There were tears pouring down his cheeks, thick streams dripping from his face onto the leaf-covered soil below.

He crouched down, hanging his head between his knees. He closed his eyes, releasing a pathetic, punched-out sound. Once the sounds started, they didn't stop. Deep, wretched sobs were drawn out of him, forcing shallow and quick breaths. He fell fully on the ground, his legs unable to support him with his body shaking so terribly.

He hadn't cried like that in a long time. Maybe not ever, really. Not when he broke his finger or fell off his bike, or watched person after person die for him. But there he lay, curled in the dirt, hiccupping so hard his chest hurt while crying his heart out.

He didn't stop crying until his tears ran dry, leaving his face a blotchy red with puffy and bloodshot eyes. He rolled onto his back, looking at the canopy above. His head felt cloudy. The leaves above were a mix of green and brown with the summer, but the small gaps let sunlight flood through in bright rivulets.

A threat.

Will watched the light dance for some time, waiting for the hiccups and stray sobs to abide. Perhaps it was his own fault, Will supposed. He had built up Lucas in his head and placed far too much on his shoulders. Lucas was just a kid, and he had enough going on without Will hanging onto him like some desperate leech.

Will’s cheeks were still wet, so he absently lifted an arm to wipe at his face. Before he could drop it back down, a smear of colour on his sleeve caught his attention. There was blood on his sleeve.

He lifted a hand, brushing his fingertips under his nose. They came back red. Sometime in Will's ordeal, his nose had begun to bleed. He sighed, letting his hand drop and focusing back on the trees above.

The wind ruffled the branches, creating a song through the forest. He closed his eyes tightly, clenching his hand into a fist. Some part of him desperately prayed for someone, anyone to find him. He imagined Lucas going after him, Jonathan stumbling across him, Mike searching for him.

He wondered how long it would take them all to notice if Will just…disappeared. If he never got up from the forest floor, if he just laid there forever. 

Predictably, no one came after him, no one stumbled across him or came searching for him. It was up to Will alone to get up, to wipe the blood away and dry his own tears. So, Will picked himself up, caught himself when he stumbled and when his legs bucked beneath him.

 Will gritted his teeth and walked himself out of the damn forest.

-

Will couldn’t remember the next few days very clearly. He was tired all the time, yet whenever he went to bed he found it increasingly more difficult to fall asleep. He’d wake up late and lay in bed till the afternoon.

He still participated in things, sometimes. When El would go to the shelter, Will would follow. He’d sit in silence, doing whatever role he was assigned with minimal effort. He wasn’t sure if the Party talked to him. Couldn’t remember. He didn’t really care.

Lucas was there, once or twice. He would cast anxious looks over at Will, even once attempting to approach him. Will just ignored him until he went away, which seemed to do the trick. He didn’t try to talk to Will again.

Will should probably have felt hurt he gave up so easily. Should have felt angry at Lucas, at all of them really. But he found that he didn’t feel much at all lately. Distantly, he found it to be a relief. 

Will sat in his pyjamas at the kitchen table, watching as Jonathan ambled around, getting ready for the day. The scene was familiar. Will remembered how desperate he had been, willing to do anything for Jonathan’s attention, to gain back the love he seemed to have lost.

Will understood where the change had come from. It wasn’t fair that Jonathan had to be so present in raising Will, that he had to step into the role of father. Maybe it was because he played his part so perfectly, showering Will with love and care, that it hurt so much more than Lonnie when Jonathan abandoned it too.

He knew he should be ashamed of the bitter feeling in his chest. Jonathan was finally moving on, living the life he deserved. He just wished he thought to include Will in that future.

Watching Jonathan scramble around for his shoes, Will imagined what would happen if he just…told Jonathan everything. If he blurted out about the headaches, about how sensitive his eyes and skin were, about the nosebleeds.

Will was sure that Jonathan's world would stop right there. He'd tell everyone immediately and chaos would wreck through the group. His mom would break herself trying to save Will.

And maybe they would save him. Will doubted it, but they’d faced worse odds before. Will would be whole and hail…and then what? Who else would get hurt in the crossfire? Would everyone go on with their lives after, just like before? Would they all forget Will again once the danger had passed? Would they hate him even more?

Will didn’t want that. He was sick and tired of fighting, both for his life and to be loved.

“Will!”

At Jonathan’s yell, Will lethargically lifted his head to look him in the eyes. Will blinked slowly. When had Jonathan moved to loom above him?

“Will, I’ve been calling to you for five bloody minutes!”

“Oh,” said Will sluggishly. “Sorry.”

Jonathan frowned. He used one hand to shove Will’s fringe out of his face, the other pressing flat against his forehead. Will’s head tilted back a bit, unresisting.

“You’re a bit warm,” Jonathan said worriedly. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, before moving back to Will. “How are you feeling?”

Fight or no fight. Was it really a question?

“Perfect,” Will responded easily. He smiled at Jonathan, eyes earnest. “I feel perfectly fine.”

-

It had occurred to Will that this all could be Vecna. The thought had crossed his mind early, along with some distant, deep thrum of panic. Maybe Vecna wasn’t really dead? Perhaps he was still alive, attempting to kill the Party in a more slow, passive sort of way.

It hadn't taken Will to realise that no, it wasn't an attack on the Party, it was only him. No one else seemed to struggle to stand after sitting for only a few minutes. No one else was dropping weight at a concerning rate. It wasn’t Vecna attacking the Party, it probably wasn’t Vecna at all. No, this was all Will.

He supposed it could still be Upside Down related. He had spent a week down there, longer than anyone else alive for all he knew. Maybe breathing in nothing but toxic air and sleeping in radioactive darkness had some long-term effects. Maybe it didn’t.

Maybe there was still something in him connecting him to the Upside Down, either from his involuntary sleepover there or from when he was possessed. The Mind Flayer had been inside him, had been part of him. And even when it was burned out, Will had always felt something, some sort of tie to draw him back.

Any of those encounters could have left some connection, some part of the Upside Down in him. And now that the Upside Down was dead, whatever was inside him was dead too, rotting away and taking Will with it.

But a big part of Will wondered if it wasn’t the Upside Down at all. Maybe he was just sick. Maybe it was some dormant genetic condition or something, just waiting to pop out. Maybe this was always going to happen, whether he rode his bike home that night or not. Maybe he was just that damn unlucky.

-

Will was in his familiar position, trailing behind the Party, watching as they walked as one down the street. He could hear them talking among themselves, could feel their concern and love for one another.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Dustin assured Lucas softly.

"Of course she will," Mike agreed, his voice filled with confidence. Will thought he could spy some worry in Mike's expression, perhaps doubt at his own words.

Will's heart squeezed. He used to be able to read Mike's expressions as easily as he breathed, could figure out what Mike was thinking and feeling from just a glance, just a twitch.

Now, Will couldn’t even understand his words.

Three years ago, Mike had never believed Will to be dead, had fought, and against all odds, found Will. Two years ago, Mike had protected Will, advocated for him, and saved him once again. One year ago…

One year ago, Will became nothing more than a friend to Mike. Even less, really. It hurt, in more ways than one way. They used to be best friends. Timidly, Will had thought there was something there, anything, that linked them together stronger than most. But hey, the ‘friendship’ was at least it was something, a shadow of what they had once been.

Now, Mike won't even look him in the eye.

Will wondered vaguely if perhaps all the fighting Mike had to do for Will was the exact reason why everything between them had crumbled. Why Mike wouldn't look at him.

“Max is stubborn as shit,” Mike continued, knocking Will out of his thoughts. He spent of lot of time with them these days. “She’ll get through this just to spite me. I know it.”

Lucas huffed out a small laugh, muttering something too quiet for Will to hear.

Will began to slow his feet, watching as they continued on. One of them must have said something funny, something to break the sombre mood. Their laughter echoed off the buildings, bouncing back to where Will stood, now completely still. 

"Look at me," Will urged. His voice was a whisper, no louder than an exhaled breath. He waited for just one of them, any one of them to pause, to turn around, to look at him. Just one sign, and Will would take a step. Just one look, and Will would try.

“Please,” Will breathed again, letting the dying part of him that still wanted to live give one final plea.

He waited, heart caught in his throat, blood pounding in his ears. The Party continued to walk, kept on moving forward without him. Eventually, they turned the corner, leaving Will alone in the middle of the street, pained but bitterly unsurprised.

He took a deep inhale of clean air, closing his eyes and tipping his face to the sun above. It burnt his skin and made his eyes sting behind his eyelids. Yet Will stayed, breathing in and out in the silence. He felt himself sinking, felt the water brushing up against his face.

He was tired, really tired. He opened his eyes and slowly turned in the opposite direction of his friends and walked away. He just wanted to rest.

And finally, with no one to hold him back, Will was going to do just that.

-

Will wasn’t sure how much time passed after that. He felt like he was standing motionless, surrounded by blurred bodies rushing about him. Time felt like liquid, speeding up and slowing around him along with the currents that pulled at him. It was hard, but so very easy.

The shelter was different when he was alone. He’d only really gone before because it was an opportunity to be with his friends, which had been hard to come by. But after the day on the street, Will had stopped looking for the Party, had stopped trying to force himself into their plans. Will figured that he reminded them of something they’d rather forget.

And it was alright, Will knew. He didn't hold it against them, didn't blame them. He ignored the way his heart felt like an open wound, the way he grieved for people who were right in front of him.

Faced with a sudden increase in free time, Will found himself at the shelter nearly every day. He didn't have anything else to do and it was a convenient place to sit and feel nothing.

The townspeople were wary of Will. They either avoided him or glared as they passed. They had never truly learned what had plagued their town, but they weren’t stupid either, and people had clearly connected some dots.

Every horrible thing, every disaster that had befallen the town, had all begun the day Will Byers disappeared. And many people, it seemed, had figured that the problem was that Will had come back alive. Will didn't fault them at all, rather agreed with them really. They were right, after all.

Will didn’t care. He felt so old. He felt ancient. Each moment seemed an eternity, every action around him felt meaningless. Words became nothing more than muffled sounds, hits became nothing but a temporary movement.

The world moved around him, and Will remained stationary.

-

Will arrived at the shelter just as the sun began to rise. He preferred to come at this time, when the walk from the forest and into the town was peaceful and uneventful. The shelter was quieter then, too.

It had settled down somewhat over the past few weeks. Homes had been repaired and people had been released from the hospital, resulting in the section of the gym dedicated to people without housing being reduced significantly.

There were still a few people drifting around despite the early hour. The organiser of the volunteers was sitting at the front of the gym, blinking slowly at a pile of papers before her. She was slouched over the desk, either suffering from a late night or early morning. Will teetered up to her, unsure of whether to disturb her or not. He was usually assigned some menial tasks anyway, something to keep him out of the mob's line of sight.

The lady looked up at Will. He was a true regular volunteer at this point, so his presence did little to faze her. She blinked at him sluggishly, one eye closing faster than the other in an unsettling way. 

“Byers,” she greeted. “What would you like to do today?”

"You don't have to keep asking me that," Will mumbled. "Just assign me whatever you need to be done."

The lady was unfazed by Will's brazenness, leaning her cheek into her palm and staring up at him. "You're a person. You have talents and skills. I want to assign you something you are good at, or where you can learn or teach."

“I don’t have anything,” he responded absently.

“I doubt that,” she sighed, but relented. She shifted through her papers, pulling one out and scanning through it before addressing Will again. “Start in donations today, Byers, and I’ll switch you up after lunch.”

Will nodded, already moving away before she finished. The few people awake watched him as he drifted through, some muttering ‘Zombie Boy’ darkly, one even stretching out their foot to trip him. Will stumbled but continued on. He made his way to the partially obscured corner filled with boxes of donated shit, and without a word, began to sort.

-

Some people of the town were brave, Will found, or simply curious.

Once the day well and truly began at the shelter, it was a flood of activity. There were the regular volunteers, like Will, who showed up every day without fail. But there was also a constant flow of people from the town, some just to volunteer for just a few hours, some with donations, some to receive a little help.  

Despite the flow, very few people went beyond glaring distance of Will, even fewer actually approached him. But the people who did made it so Will wasn’t left completely to his own devices.

There was a gaggle of children in the shelter, some just stopping in with their parents, but most staying at the lodging provided. The kids often spent their time hiding in the boxes surrounding Will, giggling amongst themselves and daring each other to get closer to him.

Two residents always chose to sit beside by Will at lunch and would talk to him as if he was responding. An old lady with a bag of endless supplies would hand him paper and pencils to sketch with when Will took a break. A boy around his age would chatter away beside Will in the food section.

Will found it fluctuated over time. People would tend to ease up around him, loosening up due to the familiarity of his presence. Some would tense up again, remembering who exactly they were next to, and why exactly everyone avoided 'Zombie Boy'. Some wouldn't.

He wondered why they bothered at all. They all knew he was at least partially responsible for the town being cursed, and it's not like his company was anything interesting. 

But as more time continued to pass, less and less people at the shelter avoided him. More started to talk to him, tried to interact, to be kind to him. They handed him water without him asking, and frowned when Will walked in with darker eyebags, with his cheeks hollower.

The town he grew up in was full of strangers, yet Will found that the only ones who truly seemed to have forgotten or avoided him were the ones he called his friends and family.

-

“Is it true that you died?”

Will looked over at the girl who had just spoken to him, brows furrowed in confusion. She had thick, curly brown hair which dangled as she leaned over the table across from where Will buttered sandwiches. She lived at the shelter, he vaguely recalled, and looked a good few years younger than Will. But old enough he would have expected her to be wary of him.

“What?” Will croaked, baffled.

“Did you die?” she repeated, as if he had simply misheard her. At Will’s continued bewilderment, she huffed. “I heard some people talking. They said this whole thing would never have happened if you’d just stayed dead.”

“Oh,” Will replied. He felt the confusion beginning to fade, felt himself sliding once again back into disinterest. “Yeah, I did. Not for long though.”

“Woah,” she breathed. “How’d you die? What was it like?” 

Her eagerness and insensitivity to the subject had Will glancing up at her. She looked curious, but not in a sinister way. More so…desperate? Like every word Will said from here on was of the utmost importance.

“Um, I can’t really remember,” Will mumbled. At the girl’s insistent look and raise of her eyebrows, Will sighed a little before he continued. “I was kinda out of it. I’d just spent a week lost, and when it happened, I wasn’t aware of anything really.”

It was the half-truth. He was weak and tired when the Demogorgon caught him. And when Will's heart stopped, he was already unconscious. He didn't remember what it felt like to die.

But what he did remember was the feeling of being dead.  

He’d been thinking about it a lot lately, how he had felt in the second before he’d woken up in his mom’s arms. It had felt so calm, like slipping under the surface of a wave and immediately everything quieted, everything was soothing and warm and peaceful.

Will hadn’t realised how loud the waves had roared until he sunk down. He hadn’t grasped just how hard he had been fighting the drag of the tide. And when his mom and Hopper yanked him back up, it was all he could focus on.

He was aware of how cold it was, how the water constantly pulled at him, thrashing around and throwing him about. His head barely broke the surface, his mouth was full of water, yet in the back of his head he knew if he just stopped kicking, just let himself rest, he would slip back into that warm realm.

Despite it, Will kept fighting, kept kicking, kept pushing to live. Yet a small part of him whispered, was it worth it?

But now, he didn’t really have a choice. The ocean had a grip and his ankle and he could feel himself sinking. Will didn't want to fight it anymore. Couldn't find it in himself to care to, really. His arms were tired of keeping him up, his legs sore from kicking, his lungs filling with water. Will was already halfway down.

“Oh,” the girl said. “Even if you can’t remember, it still must have been scary. I’m… sorry it happened at all I guess.”

Will hummed, looking back down to the bread in his hand, thinking the conversation done.

"And I think they're wrong," she continued. Will tiredly glanced up at her in question. She looked at him, before nodding around the shelter. "The adults. About how everything would have been better if you'd died. But they're wrong, I think. Nothing good can happen from someone dying."

She didn’t wait for Will to respond, instead just snagging one of the bagged sandwiches beside him and disappearing into the stacks of boxes. Will watched her curls bounce as she skipped away, and let her words sink in. He took a breath and wondered sadly what exactly had happened to her to have ended up in the shelter.

-

Will was getting worse.

Everything was an effort these days, both mentally and physically. He had to bite his cheek every time he moved to keep himself from groaning out loud. On good days his head would constantly thrum from a migraine. On bad days, he coughed up blood. He found it increasingly difficult to keep food down and was overtaken by dizzy spells making it impossible for him to function.

And it was exhausting, trying to keep responding to people. Their words barely registered, as if they were speaking to him from underwater. His tongue felt too heavy in his mouth, his brain felt too foggy.

Will would’ve felt bad, for shying away from conversation, for responding in weak gestures. But there wasn’t much use for him to talk these days anyway.

He had started avoiding his mom, his whole family really. It wasn’t hard, considering Jonathan was never home anyway and El seemed oblivious to everything around her. Joyce walked around the house like a ghost, yet she seemed to look right through Will like he was the one who wasn’t there at all.

But she was getting better, Will could see. She was becoming less distant, like Hopper had started to reel her back from whatever sick grief-filled world she seemed trapped in. She would get out of bed by herself, brush her hair and make breakfast. Once, when Will sat down next to her, she turned and smiled at him.

But smiling made Will’s cheeks hurt, talking would make his throat ache. His facade was beginning to falter, and Will was terrified his mom would soon see through it. He began to leave the house before anyone awoke, and not return till the sun set. It was a relief, not having to speak with anyone. Sometimes he wouldn’t talk for days, responding only in nods or hums to people who approached him at the shelter.

Will used to talk and laugh with his friends for hours. Down in Mike’s basement, spending whole days campaigning and yelling and fighting. He would talk about nothing, trading stories with his friends without hesitation and singing and screaming and everything.

Will didn't feel too guilty about not laughing. He had no reason to after all.

-

The rain began to drizzle down at the shelter around midday. By evening it was bucketing. Thunder shook the sky, lightning illuminated the heavy clouds above. The shelter had cleared out earlier than usual due to the weather, allowing Will to slowly wobble his way to the exit without interruption. The entry door was open, giving a view of the thick wall of water on the other side.

Will paused in the frame, watching the rain. It had never rained in the Upside Down. When he was trapped there, finding water had been one of his biggest problems, right after the otherworldly monster constantly hunting him down.

Everything had a moist, slimy texture, yet the lakes had been empty and the creeks dry. He’d found some bottled water eventually, still sealed, yet only a small trickle remained inside. He remembered how he had desperately gulped it down, how it had tasted like dust and metal.

Thunder boomed in the sky, making the walls of the gym tremble. A girl Will vaguely recognised came to stand beside Will in the doorway, looking out at the sky hesitantly. She was around his age, and Will thought they might even had been in the same year at school. He could spy a freshly healed scar spanning her cheek from where she was turned, watching the rain.

More thunder sounded, and the girl jumped slightly. She quickly straightened, sneaking a glance at Will out of the corner of her eye. He graciously pretended not to have seen.

Will shrugged off his jacket, letting the warm material slide into his hands. He had started to feel cold lately, despite the summer. He was likely the only one who had brought a jacket to the shelter that morning, the heat of the morning having deceived everyone to the approaching gale. It certainly fooled the girl, who stood shivering next to Will.

Will turned to her, dropping the jacket in the scarred girl’s hands before she could register what it was. “Hold this for me?”

The girl stared at the jacket in his hands, then up at Will, confused. “Where are you going?”

Will hummed, considering. “The woods, probably.”

"No one's supposed to be walking around alone," she tried. "Especially not in the rain."

"Rain's not something I'm afraid of," Will said. To prove his point, Will took a few steps forward out of range of the cover above. The rain immediately soaked him, soothing against his skin and cool against his forehead. The girl watched him, eyebrows raised.

“My little brother says there are monsters in the woods,” she said after a long pause, her tone light and amused. Playful, friendly.

Will smiled at her, feeling surprised himself, but began to move deeper into the rain. “Maybe. But I’m not afraid of them either.”

-

There was a woman at the shelter who made coffee for everyone in the mornings. She was one of the only people who were awake and about as early as Will, but usually they did nothing more than exchange a nod as she handed Will a cup when he walked past. 

But today, Will paused. She was set up along the outside wall of the shelter near the entrance, steaming coffee already poured for him beside her. When she offered Will the cup, he didn’t make his escape, but rather sat down next to her. After all, Will had nothing to lose.

Their conversations, if any, were quiet. Small observations whispered to each other as the world awoke each day. But usually they just sat in silence, sipping away at their drinks before the day truly started.

Almost a week after Will first sat down next to the women, the Party showed up at the shelter. They had been coming far less frequently as of late, and even when they did appear, they tended to be assigned a task far across the room from him. He wondered if they were assigned the furthest distance from Will by pure coincidence, or if they had asked to be placed there. Will didn’t want to know the answer.

He watched them as they loitered across the room, carefully picking through the people and the mess on the floor. The women followed Will’s gaze, observing them too. After a minute, she scowled.

“Fools.”

Will turned to look at her, eyebrows raised. “How are they fools?”

"They'll never get anywhere in life if they remain closed off like that," she muttered, eyes still on the Party.

Will frowned, turning to watch the group for a moment longer. Now that the women had pointed it out, Will could see it. The Party seemed polite enough, if anyone approached them. But there was a clear division between them and everyone else with the way they stood with shoulders set and assessing looks, causing the townspeople to steer clear of them. The Party stood as a unit, defensive and ready for battle.

Will lowered his gaze.

“They’ve been through a lot,” he said quietly. She nodded, taking another small sip.

“So have you,” she countered gently. Will looked at her in surprise, but she had already turned away.

-

Will heard about Max through the gossip of the shelter. Lots of people had been injured during the earthquakes, but Max’s case had stood out to the town. She had been disfigured like the others, like Chrissy Cunningham and Fred Benson, however Max had survived. And she seemed to have finally woken up.

Will was frozen where he stood, staring down at the vegetables he had been chopping when he heard the news. Max was awake, had been awake for who knows how long. And no one had told him.

“Do you know her?” the boy working next to Will asked. He had mentioned Max’s development in his ramblings he often treated Will too, but paused when Will froze.

At the question Will shook himself slightly, trying to get his hands to move. Gradually, he resumed his chopping sluggishly.

“Yeah,” Will muttered. “Yeah, I knew her.”

Will didn’t care that Mike was so clearly trying to avoid him. When he spotted Mike on the walk home later that day, Will was surprised at the anger he suddenly felt broiling around in his chest, so hot and loud compared to the near nothing he had been feeling as of late.

Mike was walking some ways ahead of him on the other side of the road, but Will would recognise that hair anywhere (would recognise him anywhere). Will recklessly crossed the road in a fury, catching up to Mike with long, fast steps.

"Hey!" Will called, reaching ahead to grab Mike's arm and spin him around.

“What the hell!” Mike shouted instinctively, expression furious, before cutting himself off. “Will?”

"Yeah, Mike," Will nearly spat. "Forget about me?" He hadn't felt like this, this angry and hurt since that night in Mike's basement. It's not my fault you don't like girls.

"What are you talking about?" Mike said, flinching back from Will's anger. The movement jostled his arm still encased in Will's tight grip. He let it drop, moving his gaze back up to Mike.

“I’m talking about Max,” Will said coldly.

“What about her?” Mike asked, voice still slightly raised.

Will ground his teeth. “She’s awake.”

“Yes,” Mike said easily. At Will’s heavy stare, Mike frowned. “Oh, I guess we forgot to tell you. Sorry.”

Will suddenly felt all the anger in him leave just as quickly as it had come. His expression loosened with the fading anger, and quickly tried to cool it into indifference rather than hurt.

Mike had said ‘we’. Sure, Will had felt the gap between himself and the Party, had felt the distance. But the way Mike had said ‘we’ so easily. He hadn’t hesitated to acknowledge that there was everyone, then there was Will. The people he loved, and then there was Will.

Will swallowed, attempting to move past it. Now wasn’t the time, and Will knew he had already lost the battle.

“Is she okay?” Will asked, his voice cracking.

Mike looked at him for a heartbeat before responding. “Yes, she is. I mean, she’s still healing, and it will be a while before she’s up and moving. But they think she’ll be okay. The doctors think she might even get some of her eyesight back.”

Will looked down at the ground in relief. Slowly, a sick feeling began to creep in, sinking to his stomach like how the fire had risen from his belly.

“Did-” Will started, before cutting himself off. He wasn’t sure how to word the question. “Was it Lucas? Did he ask you all not to tell me?”

It was a cruel thought that had lodged itself in Will since he had heard about Max. He had worked hard not to think of Lucas since that day in the hospital. The betrayal still stung and burned.

“No…” Mike said uncertainly, looking at Will with confusion and more than a little suspicion. “I just told you, we all forgot. Why would Lucas do that?”

“No reason,” Will said quickly, quietly. Mike was looking at Will with more interest right now than the last year combined, but Will only felt tired again, felt himself falling back into the pool of hurt and impassiveness. “I'm going to go. Take care of Max.”

Will felt Mike's eyes on him as he turned away, setting off back down the path despite it being in the opposite direction of his original destination. Mike didn't respond until Will was much further down the road, turning off to walk a path Mike knew led into the woods.

“Right,” Mike said slowly to the street, empty except for himself.

-

“Baby Byers!”

Will looked up tiredly at the yell that sounded in the shelter. Steve Harrington cheerily made his way over to where he sat sorting through expired food. Will spied Robin off in the distance, chatting to some girl Will sort of recognised.

“Steve,” Will smiled, offering a small wave.

“I thought that was you,” Steve said breathlessly, coming to a stop in front of Will. “I haven’t seen you in ages. Where is everyone?”

Will looked down again. “Oh, I'm not sure. Around, probably.” He winced at how unsure his voice sounded. However, when Steve didn’t respond, Will looked up to see him staring down with clear concern.

“You feeling alright Baby Byers?” Steve asked. “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” Will responded dryly, uncertain of how else to respond. He hadn’t exactly been trying to hide he was sick. He looked awful, he knew. His cheeks were hollow and his lips chapped. The bags under his eyes were stark against his unnaturally pale skin. If he looked at his hands for a bit too long they would start to shake.

“No,” Steve said again, still frowning. “Like you look like actual hell. Seriously, are you sure you’re alright?”

Will knew vaguely that he should be trying to ease Steve’s concerns, that he should try to make light of the situation. But Will wasn’t kidding about being tired, and couldn't seem to find the effort to come up with a smart response. So instead, he ran. It's what he was good at, after all.

“I’m fine,” Will said with another smile. “Look, it was good to see you again. I've got to go and take these out to the trash.” Will gathered up some of the expired products he had found, biting his tongue to stop from groaning as he stood. “Take care of yourself, Steve.”

Steve watched Will walk away with a slightly dumbfounded look.

Will distantly thought that in the months since they had defeated Vecna, Steve had been the first person out of those who he had considered his friends and family to actually approach him at all. It sat with him heavily, so he pushed it to the side. Will was too tired to think more on it.

-

The shelter had been changing. People didn’t need a quick peanut butter and jelly sandwich or their wounds bandaged anymore. The town had recovered enough that they were out of immediate danger. Now, people just had to get back on their feet.

The pre-packaged food station had been closed, instead giving way to daily cooked lunches. Anyone from the town could come to have a warm meal, and to sit and talk with the people who had had similar experiences.

Will had recently been assigned the job of being a glorified babysitter to all the kids at the shelter. There had been a few close calls over the past weeks when the kids had been running wild, resulting in many near misses involving sprinting children, heavy boxes and small bodies underfoot.

It was a tiring job, trying to entertain them so they wouldn’t bother the other staff around the gym. But despite how it made his muscles burn and voice strain, Will found he didn’t hate it nearly as much as he thought he would.

Will looked up from where he was smiling down at the kids to immediately meet the eyes of the Party. He locked onto them as soon as they stepped into the room, like he had a sixth sense for their presence alone, though that wasn't unusual. No, what was so odd about today, was that they were looking back.

Mike's eyes met his. Will's heart stuttered in his chest, his breath hitching and his smile slowly slide off his face. Mike's gaze was fixed on Will, watching him intently with an expression Will couldn't read.

Will pulled away first, only to find the rest of the Party had followed Mike’s gaze. He looked at them each, at El, Lucas then Dustin. Each of them looked back, El the longest, Lucas the shortest, but each of them looked at him.

It still ached, still hurt. It felt like vines were wrapped around his chest, never letting him take a full breath in when they were in the same room together. He tried to act like those weren't the boys he had grown up alongside, that he had once known better than anyone. But they were all open wounds, still tender and nowhere close to healed. Every time they saw each other, it reopened and began to bleed all over again.

A kid pulled at Will’s arm, and he let his gaze fall first. When Will looked up again, the Party had disappeared into the shelter.

“Willllllllllllllll,” a kid whined.

Another kid tugged on Will’s sleeve, demanding his attention. Will poorly attempted to mask the emotions he knew were all over his face. If the kids noticed, they didn’t care, continuing on with their complaining.

“Can we do something?” a girl asked.

“I’m bored,” said a boy with round glasses.

Will rolled his eyes, as if he hadn’t been entertaining them for the last three hours. “What do you want to do?”

“Can you tell us another story? Like last time?” a child asked eagerly.

“Yeah! The one with the monsters!” a loud boy shouted excitedly. Will winced at the volume. He looked at the kids dubiously, a bit of challenge slipping into his gaze.

“I dunno,” he mused. “Didn’t some of you get scared last time?”

"No, we didn't," the curly-haired girl said hotly. Will laughed a bit and lifted his hands in mock surrender.

"All right then," Will conceded. After more loud cheering to which Will again winced, they quieted down. "Where did we leave off last time again?"

“The Paladin saved the Cleric, right?”

“Ah,” said Will. “Of course.”

-

It was storming again. The summer months had begun the wane, but the rain felt warm from where Will's hand stuck out, catching the water. People were madly dashing around him, hurrying home to try to beat the tempest. Will watched as the water slid down his wrist, dripping off his elbow.

He stepped out fully, feeling his fringe plaster itself to his forehead. He stood as a single figure in the chaos.

A hand tugged at Will’s shirt. He opened his eyes, looking to see the girl with the scar standing in the rain beside him.

“Your jacket,” she said, holding up the material to Will.

“Keep it,” said Will easily.

The girl looked intently at Will, biting her cheek. Finally, she asked, “Where are you going?”

Will smiled at the familiar question, giving a familiar response in turn. “The woods, probably. I’m not afraid of the rain.”

“Me neither,” the girl said quickly. Her hands, still holding his jacket, balled into fists.

He watched her, before letting his lips twist into a small smirk. “And what about the monsters?”

Her shoulders relaxed, a grin cracking on her face. She laughed over the deafening sound of rain slamming on the roof. “I’m not afraid of them either.”

Will began to feel his chest warm, a smile on his face. He felt something beginning to bloom, a promise of a fresh start in Lenora being realised in the very place he was escaping. Will led the way through the forest, and the girl followed.

She watched the way the rain slipped between the canopy above, how small trails of water weaved down the forest floor. Will guided her to a clearing where the rain poured freely. It was one of his favourite places, where grass was long and had a gentle spread of flowers. The sun had broken through the clouds, sunlight streaming in as they watched. Will saw her let out a stunned laugh at the sight, feeling something he had thought to have broken inside him stutter back to life.

-

Things began to change.

Not with his friends, or even with his family. But Will's outlook had begun to shift. Like cracks in a murky window, Will could see the light creeping in, see how it danced and poured like liquid gold. It's not that Will had lost the ability to recognise and appreciate the world around him, more so that he had forgotten how to care enough too.

Will began to see the beauty in Hawkins that he was not sure he had ever really noticed before. The walks to the quarry became more than just a way to escape people, the sun on his skin began to feel warm.

He wasn’t getting better, and he had nothing to lose. He started to remember how to care about people, or anything really. He started to remember how to be kind.

He braided the hair of the girl with a head full of curls after she heard how Will had used braid his sisters'. He didn’t stand quite so far away from others in the shelter. He sat with people at lunch, and listened to their stories.

Will was walking back into his house after a rather short shift at the shelter. His head had been bothering him the whole day, leaving him unable to focus and constantly on the verge of throwing up. After watching Will cut vegetables at a painstakingly slow pace for an hour, the organiser lady had had enough and told him to go home. His only response was a slight grimace before he stumbled to his house and promptly fell face-first into his bed. 

He was awoken what he assumed to be serval hours later by loud voices through the wall of his room. Not from his mom's room, the other wall. El's room. Will lifted his head blearily, squinting at the offending wall. His migraine had dimmed significantly, and the afternoon sun through the window only caused slight pain in his eyes.

“–I do talk to you! All the time in fact!” a voice said loudly from next door. Not El’s, but a man’s voice. Mike.

"No, you don't," El's muffled voice responded firmly.

“We are literally always together El! Of course I talk to you.” That was definitely Mike's voice, angry and defensive through the wall between them. 

Will groaned, dropping his head back into the pillow underneath him. First a killer migraine, followed right up by being forced to hear his sister and his best friend's shouting match. They probably had no idea Will was home either. God, they needed thicker walls.

“Yes,” El responded again, voice raised and strong. “We are always together. But all we do is make out. Whenever I try to talk about anything, you just try to make out again.”

“I do not!”

“Yes, you do.”

“Why does it matter anyway?” Mike questioned pitifully.

“Because Mike,” El said tightly. "You need to talk about things. We need to talk about things!”

“I do talk to you though. I talk to you all the time!”

“Like you talk to Will?”

Will's breath caught on El's statement, frozen in place like he was sure Mike was too. El continued despite Mike's lack of response.

“I thought you two were best friends, now we’ve barely seen him in months. Months, Mike! Do you realise that? I thought you were friends!”

"We are friends!" Mike's voice was loud, but Will couldn't read the emotion in it. He had a sick feeling in his stomach, listening, unmoving. He hadn't realised that El had even noticed his diminished presence. She hadn't mentioned it to him, and Will felt a sinking feeling knowing she must have been aware and chose to ignore it. Ignore him.

“You’re friends the same way you talk to me!” El said desperately. “You’ve been through stuff, we all have. But you pushed Will away, and now you’re pushing me away? Who’s next? Dustin? Lucas?”

"El I just-" Mike's voice cut off, followed instead by the sound movement. Will shifted his head a little, ears straining. "I'm sorry, okay? I just need some time."

“I just don’t get why you can't just talk to him? Why won't you try?”

“Please El,” Mike said, so quietly Will almost missed it. It was silent for a long time after.

“Okay,” El responded softly. “I won't push you to do anything you don’t want to.”

“Thank you.”

Their conversation tampered off into unrecognisable murmurs which Will couldn’t hear over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ear. He didn’t want to be here anymore, didn’t want to listen to them talk about him.

Silently, he rose from his bed. He'd always been good at hiding, at running, and now was no different. Not a sound was made as Will opened and climbed through his window, dropping mutely onto the ground outside. His footsteps were silent as he crouched under the windows along the house, until he was far away enough to fully stand and run.

Will ran right for the forest, weaving expertly through the trees till he reached the quarry. He bypassed the cliff he usually sat at, instead marching further down until he was wading knee-deep in the water.

He didn’t get it. What had he done that was so horrible? Everyone needed time to heal, time away from Will.

But Will was dying. He didn’t have fucking time. He was dying.

“I’m dying,” Will said aloud. The quarry remained silent, soaking up his words.

And he was. It had been months now, and he was only getting worse. His bones ached. Old cuts and scars that have long since healed were sore and tender. Bruises continued to pop up on his body and wouldn’t leave for weeks.

He was going to die. He was fucking dying, and everyone he loved was going to remember him for the shitty things he dragged them into. Shitty things he hadn’t wanted, he hadn’t asked for either.

"I'm going to die," Will told the quarry again. He stared at the water, and watched it lap softly against his legs. The air around him had a hint of chill that the sun couldn't quite grasp. The summer was nearly over.

For some, when they looked at Will, all they saw were the sacrifices they made to save him. Will decided that wasn’t what he was going to be remembered for, as an extension of the Upside Down.

Not by his friends, not by his family. But by the others, the people on the other side of the trees who Will saw every day. The children, who laughed in the rain and asked Will to draw them pictures of cool bugs. The town, who suffered alongside Will.

Those who watched their loved ones die in the earthquakes. Those who were terrorised by the monsters same as Will. Those who had lived in fear for years, and those who deserved better.

Will was tired of being weighed down and judged by his past for something he had no say in. He bent down, dipping his hands under the surface of the water. He watched the distorted image, and felt the cold seeping through his skin. Finally, Will stood straight, and began to wade his way back out of the quarry.

He was dying. But he was going to live until he died.

Chapter Text

Will started small.

It was little things he did to ease himself into it. He would look people in the eye when they talked to him. He learnt peoples names and learnt to use them. When they spoke he would listen, and, slowly, he learnt about the people behind the names.

The girl with the scar on her cheek’s name was Allison. Allison liked to sneak off with Chris, the chatterbox from the food section when they thought no one was looking. Jesse stole cool graphic t-shirts from the donation piles. Brooke chewed with her mouth open just to annoy the others around her. Misty had a crush on Derek, but Derek’s eyes only ever lingered on Molly when she walked past, yet Molly would stare dreamily over at Ryan.

Will had always thought of Hawkins as a town filled with hateful and cruel people, just glaring and spitting cruel words at any given opportunity. He had always been a shy kid, never one to step out of his comfort zone. He was comfortable with his ragtag group of friends, his Party, and had never felt the need nor want for change. Especially when any time he might’ve contemplated it, he’d been faced with bullies like Troy and James.

But if Will had taken a step outside of his friends, if he'd looked past the wall of bullies, he might have seen the kindness on the other side. The town was full of people, just people. People who loved, and people who wanted to be loved. And Will found himself wanting, really wanting, to be part of that.

Will taught people how to hold pencils correctly, and how to draw. He rolled his eyes at the back of Mike's head whenever he walked past with a far too serious swagger, despite the other boy being unable to see it. Will would guide those who ask through the forest, would lead them to lakes to swim in or flowers to pick. Technically people still weren't meant to stray far from the town alone, but for once Will wasn't alone, even if it was just him and one other person. Then two other people, then four, then nine. 

The kids came up to him one day, demanding he show them the tallest tree for them to climb. But despite their apparent confidence, they cowered as the group began to approach the tree line. Will looked down at their anxious expressions sadly.

"I know it's scary," he said gently. "Bad things happened here, but bad things happen everywhere. The woods are just a bunch of trees. Hawkins is just a town."

And slowly, the kids moved forward one by one. Charlotte first, Felix last, but they all stepped onto the leaf-littered ground. As they approached the tallest tree Will knew of, he continued in that same soft voice.

"You shouldn't abandon something just because something bad happened to it. It's just a place. It's not its fault."

And if he wasn’t really talking about a forest, who knew better. 

Will chattered with the adults around him, and talked to more people from Hawkins in a week than he had in his whole life. There were people who sat shaking in the shelter when it stormed, terrified the gym would crumble around them just as the earthquakes had done to their homes. Will showed them too how to paint, how to distract themselves from the noise and told them it could help. And eventually, it did.

An elderly woman offered to teach the teenagers how to whittle small animals out of wood. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with his hands aching, all the kids talked and laughed while the lady demonstrated, the awkward air long faded in the presence of familiarity and community. By the end, Will's animal looked like a mutilated lump next to the women’s expertly crafted one, but he only smiled and laughed at the hooting and giggles from those around him.

Will could almost forget that he hadn’t talked to his mom in weeks, that Lucas had thought of him as a threat.

He caught Mike’s eye across the shelter from where Will was sitting with Kathleen, having their usual shared coffee as the sun rose. He could tell by the set of Mike’s jaw and furrow of his brow that he was looking for someone to fight. But Kathleen touched Will’s wrist to ask him a question, and Will looked away.

Once, Will had been surrounded by the dead. After a while, he thought himself part of it too, rotting away where he stood.

But Will wasn’t dead yet. He was alive, and working as hard as he could to surround himself with as much life as possible.

-

The summer had well and truly faded into fall, but Will was soaked in sweat.

Volunteering had extended past the shelter, and Will along with a group of boys had been sent out to help repair buildings across town. Today's job was Mr. Tierney's shop down on the main front. The roof of the structure had been dodgy for as long as the old man had owned the store, and the earthquakes had been the final shove. Thankfully no one was hurt and just the interior ceiling had collapsed, which was a relativity simple fix, though time-consuming.

Midway through the afternoon, Mr. Tierney treated them all to a milkshake while they took a break. Will sat in the sun on the concrete outside, enjoying the cold drink and decidedly not thinking about how his mom was working only a few doors down.

A small nudge on his side drew his attention over to the boy next to him. Chris smiled stupidly at him, nodding up towards the end of the road.

“They’re going to do it,” he said.

“No,” Will sat up, trying to get a better view of the top of the hill at the end of the street. “They can't be that stupid.”

“That's where you're wrong, Byers," the other boy, Peter, on the ground next to them said. Peter was the oldest of the group, only a year younger than Jonathan and had therefore been defaulted as the leader somewhat. He shook his head at the three boys standing together on the top of the hill from his laid-back position. “I’ve known those boys their whole lives. They really are that stupid.”

Will held back a small laugh at the scene. Three of the boys helping to repair the shop had decided that sitting around was far too boring, and elected to skate along the street. Of course, the flat ground was too unexciting, and why settle when a fairly steep slope was right at the end of the road?

Their only problem was there was only one skateboard and three people. Will watched from afar as they all precariously climbed onto the single board, shaking his head. Chris leaned forward again to mutter to Will out of the corner of his mouth.

“Five dollars says they won't make it twenty feet,” he murmured. Will looked back, eyebrows raised and lips curved.

“Twenty feet? You really think they’ll make it that far?”

“Fuck no,” said Peter.

Chris let out a loud laugh, spurring Will to join in. The three on the ground hollered and cheered as the skateboard started down the hill with the three idiots balanced on top. To no one's surprise, they crashed in a heap halfway down.

“We’re alright,” Kyle called from where he was sprawled on the ground, which did little more but encourage a new, much louder round of laughing.

“I’m not fucking alright,” Jeff groaned, but was clearly well enough to move to punch Kyle in the shoulder, who of course immediately retaliated. The third bloke, Harry, just remained slumped on the road, staring up at the sky regretfully.

“Well it's a good thing we're right outside the shops then, isn't it?" called Peter, still lying carefree and taking an obnoxiously loud slurp of his milkshake. "Go get yourself some band-aids then we'll finish this off for Mr. Tierney. We aren't far off now."

His only response was a depressed groan from Harry.

“That was so twenty feet,” declared Chris as he stood, offering his hand to help Will up too.

"Was not!" Will laughed, taking the hand and rising. They threw their empty milkshake cups into a bin, before moving to pick up some leftover timber that had piled outside. "They made it like five, ten feet at most, then stacked it and rolled the rest of the way. If anything, they-"

“Will?”

Will paused with his arms stacked full of wood, Chris also stopping next to him. Across from them stood the Party. El, Mike, Lucas, Dustin, and…

"Max!" Will almost shouted in shock. It really was Max, alive and awake. The bandages that had been covering her face in the hospital were gone, but her eyes remained closed anyway. She was in a wheelchair being pushed by Lucas, which made sense considering an arm and a leg each were still wrapped in a cast.

“Byers,” Max greeted with a smile in his general direction.

“What are you doing out here?” Will blurted. He felt Chris move off from beside him back into the shop, leaving Will to talk to his friends alone.

“It’s the first time they let her out,” said El.

“Only for a few hours,” Lucas stated firmly. “Really, we should be getting back as soon as possible, Max. Just in case.”

If Max could roll her eyes, Will was sure she would have in that moment.

“Come on Lucas, I just got free,” she complained. “Loosen up, you’re worse than my mother. I’ve hardly gotten to look around.”

“So…” Will started, confused. “You can…”

“See?” Max finished. “Well, no. It was more of a figure of speech.”

“Oh Max, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Will cringed. He glanced at Mike for help, but the boy only ignored Will and looked away. Right, Will had forgotten they were ignoring each other.

Thankfully, Max only laughed, if a bit pained. “You’re okay Byers, I know what you meant. But no, I can't see right now. But they’re hopeful I might eventually. I’m going up to the city soon to see some doctors, you know. They’re hopeful.”

“That’s wonderful,” Will said, swallowing thickly. The wood in his arms was getting heavy, so he shifted it around in the silence that followed.

“What are you doing with all that?” Dustin asked, nodding to the timber. 

“Oh,” Will said, vaguely surprised he had been addressed. “Me and some other boys who help out at the shelter were just repairing Mr. Tierney’s roof. It collapsed during the earthquakes.”

“You’ve been working down at the shelter?” Max asked, surprised.

Before Will could answer, the three skateboarders slid behind him and reached out to take some of the wood off Will, adding it to their own arms. Will turned to glare at them, missing when Peter snuck past, stealing the remainder of Will’s pile. Will rolled his eyes at their obnoxious grins before they disappeared into the shop.

“Sorry, what were you saying?” Will asked, turning back to the Party while brushing down his arms. They only gaped at him.

“What was that all about?” Lucas questioned dubiously. It was probably the first time he had talked to Will since the hospital incident.

“Oh that,” Will gestured a thumb towards where the boys had gone, shaking his head with a smile. “They were just being stupid.” He ignored the way he could feel the muscles in his shoulders straining, the way his arms trembled.

“Yeah, because the kind people of Hawkins like to help out in whatever way they can,” Mike pointed out mockingly. Will only shrugged.

The silence sat heavy, none knowing how to break it. Eventually, Will coughed, taking a step backwards towards the entrance of the shop.

“Well, I better go help finish this up. It was nice seeing you again, Max. I’m glad you are okay.”

“Thanks,” Max said, sounding stumped.

“Will you be home for dinner?” El asked. Will paused his retreat, looking back at her hopeful gaze.

“I don’t know,” Will said weakly. “I- probably not. Don’t wait for me.”

“Oh. Okay.” It looked like El wanted to say something else, like she was going to say something else, but she instead tightened her hands into fists and looked away.

“We really should be heading back,” Lucas said, moving Max’s wheelchair forward, the Party following a second behind. The sweat on Will’s skin had cooled, and he shivered.

“Bye Will,” Max called as she passed.

“Bye, Max.”

-

Will wasn’t doing great.

He knew, theoretically, that he would get worse. Knew where it would all end up. But he hadn’t realised how tiring it all would be.

On good days he would stagger around with a persistent migraine, on bad days the pain in his head would blur his vision and make it difficult to move. He threw up after nearly every meal, his skin would grow red and irritated from a single brush of fabric. Will nose had taken to bleeding at random, catching him off guard and leaving a constant stain of red on his sleeve.

It was difficult, to act like everything was fine. His sickness was getting more obvious, making it harder to hide and harder to simply grit his teeth and keep moving forward.

-

Will was beginning to sympathise with Steve. The group of kids Will had taken to explore the woods had only grown, and he was starting to struggle with keeping them all organised. 

“Felix,” Will said. “Felix! Get down from there! I told you the rocks are still wet, you’ll slip off.”

“No, I won't,” Felix said smugly, continuing to climb up a large boulder covered in moss.

Will watched, a little impressed, as Felix successfully scampered up the slick rock and seated himself proudly on top… only to be pushed off by his friend, Matt. Felix tumbled to the ground, but shot up almost immediately with a scream of rage, taking off after Matt who had run away laughing. Will groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Guys," he called, a bit desperately. "Please. We're almost there, let's go."

So yes, Will was very much starting to appreciate just how difficult Steve had it. It was hard enough to guide them through some trees, Will couldn’t imagine guiding them through an apocalypse. 

Laughter from behind Will had him whipping his head around, glaring at the offenders. Chris and Allison had chosen to accompany Will and the kids today, though they hung back with their clasped hands swinging, merely watching Will struggle.

“Are you two seriously laughing at me?” Will exclaimed. “Here I am, trying to enrich the young minds of Hawkins, and you laugh at me! You could help you know!”

“Yeah, we could,” Allison said, watching as Will rushed to help Rachel up after she tripped running on a branch into the mud. “But you so clearly have everything under control. I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

Will glared at her again as Rachel bounced off and ran ahead to join the kids, leaving Will kneeling alone in the mud. Chris and Allison only laughed harder, but helped him up despite.

Will’s legs ached from the walk, wobbling worryingly below him. He had had to duck away from the group to throw up behind a bush, but eventually, they made it to the destination Will had in mind.

It was a place he had visited often when he was younger and relativity far off the beaten track. Will wasn't sure if anyone outside of his family knew the exact path to find it.

It was a Willow tree bent with age and weather, with long full branches brushing against the ground and enclosing a small space inside. Jonathan and Will used to play here for hours, weaving through the branches and playing tag and hide-and-seek in the leaves.

The kids seemed to find it just as entertaining, racing towards the tree and ducking in and out of the hidden zone to jump out and scare each other.

"Wow," said Chris as he and Allison drew to a stop in the clearing next to Will. "It's beautiful."

“Yeah,” Will said. “I used to come here with my brother all the time. Sometimes Mom would come too, and we would have a picnic inside the tree.”

“I never even knew it was here,” divulged Allison.

“Not many people do,” Will nodded.

Eventually, they settled on the grass, enjoying the afternoon in the sunshine with the kid's laughter in the background. It was autumn now, but the warmth of summer still lingered in the air.

Will had been taking the kids all through the woods, to places he swore only he knew about. To the trees with the prettiest leaves, the lakes with the warmest water, the clearings where you could just lay in the soft grass forever.

He constantly felt dazed with nostalgia, watching his group of kids. They would climb the same trees Will scaled with Dustin, swim in the same water he used to race Lucas in, wrestle in the same grass Will had played with Mike in, and laugh in the same trees he and Jonathan had hidden in.

Will was glad he could show them this part of Hawkins so that they too could experience the same happiness Will had grown up with. He didn't want them to hate the town, hate the forest the same some of the adults had started to. Not when Will had been so happy here, at least for a while.

The kids reminded him painfully of Mike, of Dustin, of them all. Young and carefree and with all the confidence in the world. He watched them in the clearing, watched Paul swing from a branch and Lottie make flower crowns from the daises in the grass.

It made Will reminisce of who the Party used to be, yet at the same time, he saw in them who the Party could have been. How they might have grown if the world had been kinder, if the ocean raging around them had weathered them differently. They were all just kids.

“Will,” Lottie said, drawing his attention back to the present. She held out a flower crown to him with a smile on her face. Will looked over to see Allison and Chris each had their own daisy chains already set on their heads giving him a thumbs up.

Will smiled, leaning forward so Lottie could gently position the crown. “Thank you.”

She ran off giggling, and Will relaxed back into the grass. He settled on his back, looking up through the canopy at the clear blue sky above. When he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend that the years hadn't passed, that it was him and his family's laughter echoing through the clearing.

-

On the day the shelter closed, the volunteers threw a party. Well, party was probably a bit of a stretch, but they celebrated all the same. It had been inevitable, Will knew, that the shelter would close. School had been delayed several weeks from all the disruption but had finally set an opening date, and there was no way the shelter could continue operating in its gym.

And really, there wasn’t much of a reason to. All the townspeople sleeping at the shelter had long moved out as their homes had been repaired or replaced. Though people didn’t mind a helping hand, there wasn’t an overwhelming need for clothing and food as there had been in the beginning.

Hawkins was on her own two feet and didn’t need the shelter to keep her afloat anymore.

The celebration of the closing was hosted at the town hall. The volunteers had spilled out of the building, milling around on the grass outside.

“Hey,” Will said, joining his friends where they leaned against the exterior wall of the hall.

“Will!” said Brooke happily, before suddenly shifting her tone. “You’re late.”

“Yeah,” he replied sheepishly. “I'm sorry, I got caught up.”

Will had spent the morning in the woods. He had shown up to the lunch stumbling with sweat on his skin, but a smile on his face. He ignored the concerned looks that had been thrown his way when walked through the crowd to reach his friends. He ignored the worried glances he could still feel burning into his back. 

“Well you’re lucky you turned up when you did,” Jesse continued. “Maria’s planning on taking a group photo and she would have had your head if you weren’t there. She wants ‘every single volunteer!’. Crazy women.”

Will laughed along with the others at Jesse’s scarily accurate impression of Maria. He wasn’t exactly devastated with the closure of the shelter. He had thought he would be, but was surprised to find only the sort of sadness that always accompanied change. But the community Will had built at the shelter had grown in ways he couldn’t have imagined when he first started working there. He didn’t need to be confined in the old school's stuffy gym to experience it anymore.

The volunteers he had met were in his school, walked past him in the streets, worked the shops in town. They were everywhere. They were Hawkins.

Will didn’t feel like he was losing anything really.

-

Will had never liked school. He wasn’t excited to pick out his elective or check his schedule. He only felt a deep sense of dread for the upcoming year.

He didn’t like the classes, or the staleness of the rooms and the ignorance of the teachers. He disliked the homework, the tight schedule, the bullying and the drama. There were a lot of things Will did not like about school, but the hallways? Will hated the hallways.

No matter how much time passed, he would never forget how he had felt walking down the halls of Hawkins Middle that first year after his disappearance. He remembered the notes shoved into his locker, the feeling of the principal's hand on his back, always pushing him further and deeper into the never-ending corridor.

He could hear the whispers, still feel as people stopped and turned and stared and watched him go step by step past him. He remembered the sneers, the looks of disgust, the muttered comments. Will hated the hallways.

“Will?” Chris called. “Why are you lagging? We’re going to be late for geography!”

But this? This was so very different. 

School had started not even a month ago, yet not a single day had passed where Will had walked down a hallway alone. There was nearly always someone he had met at the shelter in each of his classes, trailing out of the room next to him and chatting about how stupid the homework was or how bad the teachers were.

Allison, Jesse or Brooke would wait for him each morning by the entrance or meet him by his locker after class, every time falling into step beside Will. People from all different grades would smile at him, call out to him, clap him on the shoulder. 

Don't get him wrong, not everyone had suddenly done a full turn-around. Will still heard his fair share of 'Zombie Boy', still got double takes and stares from people on the opposite side of the hall. But it wasn't overwhelming, wasn't all he could think about, all he could focus on. He could breathe, he could walk without a hand pushing him.

It was all so different, so foreign.

Sure, Will had always had the Party around him when they were young. But as time went on, as they faced more and more horrors, Will slowly noticed himself drifting further and further away from where he used to stand beside them. They would march ahead, and Will would trail behind, constantly chasing their backs.

Will hadn’t realised how much of a burden he felt like, always reaching out to them and begging for their interest until he was suddenly faced with the influx of positive attention. Will had never felt so wanted.

Kyle wasn’t asking him about his afternoon plans because he needed Will’s connection to the Upside Down. Allison didn’t ask him to lead her through the woods so they could hunt monsters. Jessica and Harry didn’t see if he wanted to study with them because of his knowledge about Demogorgons.

People just seemed to…like him. No ulterior motives, no nothing. Just plain, unburdened friendship.

Will smiled at where Chris was in the hallway. He hadn’t moved off, hadn’t left Will to fend for himself among the crowd. He stood still against the pushing and shoving of late teenagers, only waiting when Will fell behind.

“Sorry,” Will said, weaving through the bodies to stand beside his friend. He smiled at Chris before they both set off for class. “Let’s go. I’m right beside you.”

-

Will still saw the Party at school. Max had started to show up, only for a day or two at first, but gradually staying longer. She alternated between a wheelchair and a cane depending on the day. Will didn't know much else.

School was busy. Busy enough that Will could sometimes pretend that and El and Mike – always Mike – were just busy. That nothing had ever changed between them, that they still cared about him. They were just busy.

 Sometimes, Will could convince himself that they weren’t even there.

It was easier that way, to pretend they didn’t exist. It made the burning in his lungs ease some, made the tightening of his chest lessen. So, when Will saw their bikes, he would turn the other way. When he heard them in the distance, he’d let their voices fade into nothing. When they were right in front of him, he would close his eyes.

It was easier to pretend they didn't exist, so that's what he did. Or, well, it's what he tried to do at least.

-

Will gasped as he pushed through the door, taking deep breaths of the clean air outside. He could hear the rush of students even after the door swung closed behind him, as loud and hectic as always.

He knew he shouldn’t have come to school today. Will had woken up later than usual, but felt fine aside from a little dizzy. He’d stupidly thought it would wear off as the day wore on, that by the time school ended it would be nothing more than a bit of light-headedness he could spend the afternoon sleeping off.

Will didn’t even make it to third period.

He had sat in class with his head down and eyes shut, focusing only on his breathing. The dizziness had steadily grown into a painful pressure behind his eyes, the migraine of all migraines. Every time a muscle twitched in his body he felt it like a knife stabbing into his head, every sound around him like screeching in his ears.

As soon as the lunch bell sounded Will was off, lurching his way half-blind through the eager crowd, desperately searching for the back door he and the Party had often used to avoid bullies. 

The fresh air helped once Will managed to blunder his way outside. He could still hear people in the hallways, but it wasn’t as overwhelming with the door shut between them. He stood still, simply breathing and battling the nausea that had risen from all the movement. The world swum around him even with his eyes closed, making him feel like he was balancing on a flimsy raft in the middle of a stormy ocean.

 When he felt he could, Will stumbled a few steps, sticking an arm out and blindly fumbling for the brick wall of the school. He leant his weight against it, dropping his head against the cold, rough surface.

The coolness was a welcome relief, but brought forward no other change. He stood, pressed against the wall, listening to his loud, uneven breaths slowly ease with the minutes ticking past.

“What the fuck?”

Will started badly, his hold on the wall slipping and causing his upper body to stagger forcefully into the brick. He rightened himself as quickly as his sluggish body could, half turning to look at whoever had just exited the building.

He hadn’t even heard the door open, hadn’t felt another presence join him outside. Will didn’t used to be caught off guard so easily, didn’t used to be so easy to sneak up on. He supposed it was another sign, another symptom.

Will squinted at who had startled him. He could feel his eyes twitching involuntarily in their sockets, making it difficult to focus on anything.

“…Lucas?”

“What the fuck is going on, Will?” Lucas asked, sounding freaked out and loud enough for Will to wince.

“What?” Will asked softly. He felt confused by the turn of events, his brain working too slowly to concentrate. He attempted to straighten, but failed miserably when another wave of dizziness had him curling back in on himself. He hunched further down, letting his whole back lean against the wall for support.

“Why do you look like that?” said Lucas, moving further away from the door. “Why are you out here?”

“Oh,” Will said, eyeing Lucas who came to a stop closer to Will than he had been all year. “I’m just getting some fresh air. Nature and all that.” He gestured weakly to the dead grass below and the barren trees around them.

The look Lucas gave him would have been comical, thick with disbelief. He was distantly surprised Lucas was even here talking to him. Will thought he would have run off the second he spotted him. Will kind of wished Lucas had.

“What are you doing out here?” Will asked when Lucas only kept watching him.

Lucas frowned. “Mike's my ride home. I was looking for him.”

Now it was Will’s turn to frown. “It’s the middle of the day?”

“We have some free periods,” Lucas said absently, rushing to get to his second point. “Have you gone to a doctor?”

It was difficult to keep looking at Lucas, the light of the sun burning his eyes and sending surges of pain through his skull. He leant his head back, using his arm to shield his eyes. God, his head hurt. He swallowed down the urge to throw up.

“Don’t be silly, Lucas. I’m not sick.”

“Sure,” he deadpanned, sounding very unconvinced. He was quiet for a minute, perhaps waiting for an explanation from Will that would never come. Tense silence stretched between them, neither of them comfortable in the presence of the other. If Will could have fled, he would of.

Instead, Will gingerly began to lower himself onto the ground. He could feel Lucas still watching, but the world was spiralling around him.

He bit his lip at how the movement sent blinding waves of pain through his body and focused only on making it to the floor without falling or vomiting. Slowly, clumsily, Will’s body scraped down the brick to collapse on the packed dirt. He sighed in relief, blinking hard to clear the black spots dancing around in his vision.

“You should really go to the doctor,” Lucas tried.

He rolled his head on his neck, peering up to try and get a good look at Lucas. He looked concerned and worried, though also massively uncomfortable.

Will had always known that no matter how strained his and the Party's relationship became, that at the drop of a hat they would be there if Will really needed them. But right now, Will didn't. Here wasn't the time or place.

Will sighed, managing a weak smile that assured nobody. “I’m alright, thank you. I can look after myself.”

Lucas looked away, conflicted. He took a few steps back from Will, who had let his eyes fall shut again.

“Will, really-” Lucas started.

“Lucas.” Will cut him off, voice cutting through stronger than before. He could tell Lucas was readying himself for an argument, but Will suddenly felt so tired. Of the conversation, of the situation, of Lucas. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, weak, pleading. “Please. I’m tired. Not right now.”

A few heartbeats passed, then Lucas slowly began to nod.

“Okay,” he relented, sounding uncertain.

Will gave him a pathetic thumbs up from where he remained prone on the ground. Lucas stared at him, chewing his lips before turning on his heel back towards the school.

Will rested his head on his shoulder, calling out faintly as Lucas gripped the handle of the door. “I thought you were going home?”

“Changed my mind,” Lucas shrugged, and disappeared inside.

Will let his eyes close with a wince. Slowly, so slowly, he pulled his knees up to rest his forehead against, creating a slight block to hide himself in.

The lunch break passed slowly, with Will begging the ground to stop rolling under him. It didn’t, leaving Will feeling unsteady even as he remained stationary. When the bell signalling the end of lunch rang, Will groaned aloud.

He somehow found the strength to move, biting his tongue as he did to keep from crying out. He stood painstakingly slowly, wobbling over to the door and pulling it open with a grunt of pain.

The hallway inside was relatively clear, Will having missed the main rush of students in the time it took him to get up. He had no intention of going to class anyway, and began to totter his way towards his locker. He had never been so aware of his legs, of having to move one in front of the other. It would have been a lot easier if the floor could stop buckling beneath his feet. 

Will was so focused on not falling over that he failed to notice the two people standing in front of his locker until too late. He looked up, trying to clear his vision before he spotted Lucas with who else but Michael Wheeler. Will groaned again. He should have known Lucas would run off to Mike.

Mike looked pissed, leaning impatiently against the metal of Will’s locker. Will thought about turning around, but it was too late, they had spotted him. He sighed, continuing forward. Mike wordlessly moved to the side when Will finally teetered up to them, eyeing him up and down as Will opened his locker to gather his bag. He didn’t say a word, refusing to speak first.

“Lucas said you were sick,” said Mike finally.

“Lucas is being dramatic,” Will muttered. The tiredness from easier hadn’t left him. He didn’t even bother to glare over Mike’s shoulder at Lucas, who Will hoped was rightfully ashamed of himself for snitching.

Mike seemed to disagree with Will’s words, still watching him. He felt like he was being studied, scrutinized and dissected. No one had paid him such close attention in a long time, and he squirmed under the inspection.

“Are you contagious?” Mike asked, voice slightly tainted with hostility. Lucas groaned behind him, dropping his head back.

Will snorted as he lethargically zipped up his backpack. “Even if I was contagious, you’d probably be the last to get sick.”

Will blamed the migraine for his lack of filter as he felt Mike stiffen next to him. Thankfully, he didn't have time to bite back before Will's saving grace came sweeping in.

“Will,” Allison called happily, sliding past Mike and slipping her arm into Will’s to discretely help hold him up. She completely ignored the other two boys, turning her back to them as she spoke to Will. “I’ve been looking for you all over.”

“Sorry,” Will smiled dimly, ignoring the scorning look Mike threw Allison. “I was getting some air.”

“Fair enough,” she accepted easily. Allison reached around Will to grab the bag out of his locker, swinging it over her own shoulder and shutting the door. “Ready to go?”

“I was talking to him,” Mike cut in coldly before Will could ask exactly where she planned on taking him. Allison didn’t respond immediately. She took her time shifting and adjusting the backpack before turning to face him.

“Oh,” she said sweetly, eyes icy. “That’s a shame. You’ll have to talk another time. Or not at all. Up to you.”

“And you are?” Mike said accusingly.

“Allison Clarke. You?”

“Mike,” he said, word clipped. Lucas put his hand on Mike's shoulder, squeezing warningly.

“Pleasure.” Allison's voice was stony.

They stared each other down, neither relenting. Will felt his head throb, his body swaying through another dizzy spell.

“We’ll be going now,” Allison declared, tightening her grip on Will’s arm. She stared up at Mike, who was blocking their path. “Excuse me.”

Mike didn't move, instead letting his eyes drift over to Will. Will blinked back, feeling exhausted. He shook his head slightly, letting himself lean into Allison. After a long moment, Mike bitterly moved, and Allison shouldered past wordlessly. 

Will shut his eyes again and focused on not throwing up as Allison led him through the empty halls of the school. He didn’t ask her where they were going, trusted wherever she was taking him. His feet stumbled over nothing every couple of steps, but she held him steady.

Eventually, Allison moved to sit him down. Will peeked his eyes open, taking in the empty classroom. He gratefully slunk into one of the chairs, resting his head on the desk in front of him. He swallowed thickly, thankful for the coolness of the wood against his sweaty forehead.

“We’ll stay here for a while,” she said quietly. “Till your migraine passes.”

Will let the words sit for a while before he responded, looking at Allison who sat beside him. The sunlight cascading through the window was softer here, casting the room in a gentle orange glow.

"It's not just a migraine, Allison."

“I know,” she whispered, still looking him in the eye.

"It's not going to pass."

“I know.”

-

Will had felt like he was drowning, being pulled underwater. He hadn’t fought, hadn’t seen a reason to. It was quieter under the surface. The waves didn’t throw him about, he didn’t have to fight the tide. It was easier, and the further he sunk the more he forgot why he had ever tried to swim the ocean at all.

Will wasn’t sure that mindset would have ever changed if not for the people he had met when he was already halfway down. The people like Allison and Chris, Jesse, Brooke, Kathleen, Peter, all the kids.

They couldn’t pull him up. No one could have. It was far too late for a life vest or a buoy, and Will didn’t have the resolve to hold on even if it was offered. No, they couldn’t pull him up, but they did reach down. They slipped their warm hands into Will’s frozen ones, showing him just how cold it really was where he drifted.

He would hear their laughter above the surface, distorted and muted, but he could hear it. And Will slowly began to remember just how fun the ocean used to be when they were kids. How he used to chase the waves and laugh and play. He remembered just fun the water was when you could float.

He remembered a life that was worth living.

And so, he kicked.

-

Will had been doing suspiciously well lately. He hadn’t been spat at in the streets or chased down the school halls. No one had tried to trip him or call him ‘Zombie Boy’. None of the usual events he had come to associate with Hawkins had been happening at all lately. Well, for the past few months really. 

He sat on the steps out the front of the town hall, bundled against the cold with an arsenal of a thick coat, gloves, two scarves and a beanie. Even on the walk through town, people had acted odd. If they recognised him through his layering they would smile, not shrink away. Mothers would pinch his cheeks rather than hide their children behind them. Even now as he sat shivering in the Hawkins winter, people would good-naturedly ruffle his beanie or laugh at his red nose.

It was all very odd.

“What’s got you all tied up?” Katheen asked. Will had learned that she was one of the organisers of the volunteers, and still helped out at town hall on the weekends. It was a good opportunity for their tradition of coffee in the early hours, leading to him sitting on frozen stone steps freezing his butt off at seven on a Saturday.

Kathleen handed the steaming drink into Will’s eager hands and sat down next to him. Will took a small sip before answering, wincing at how the coffee burned his tongue.

“Well, I'm cold for starters,” Will complained, and Kathleen rolled her eyes. “And secondly… I don’t know. It just- half a year ago, I wouldn’t have been able to walk within ten feet of these people without getting tripped and insulted, and now…”

Will let out a huff, watching as it fanned out in a white cloud before him.

“And now they are kind?” Katheen helped.

"Yeah," Will agreed. "They're kind. It's just weird. They used to hate me. They used to fear me even. And that doesn't just go away you know?"

Kathleen hummed, encouraging Will to go on.

"But now they call out to me and smile at me. I guess I'm just confused about where this all suddenly came from."

Kathleen eyed him, swallowing down a mouthful of coffee despite it being boiling. She let out a heavy breath that faded into the air.

"Well," said Kathleen. She talked slowly, carefully, making sure Will understood. "Maybe it's because they've just spent the last six months getting to know you."

Will frowned down into his coffee, before lifting his face to look at Kathleen. She was already watching him, a single eyebrow raised with a quirked smile to match. He fidgeted, still unsure.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I grew up here. I’ve lived here nearly my whole life. They already knew me, and it didn’t stop them before.”

“No,” Kathleen corrected. “They knew of you. They – we – had heard of you. Stories about what happened to you, spun time and time again until the truth was unrecognisable. They all just wanted someone to blame, someone easy. That happened to be you. And for that, I’m sorry.”

"Katheen…" Will said softly, placing a gloved hand on her arm. She smiled guiltily at him, though she had never been hostile to him. Since they had met at the shelter, she had done nothing more than offer him coffee, a kindness others hadn't been quite so eager to give back then.

"But then," Kathleen persisted. "You kept showing up to the shelter, volunteering and always coming back no matter how poorly anyone treated you. We all saw you every day, and eventually we talked to you and worked with you. It didn't take long for people to remember that you were just a kid. I don't think they needed much, in all honesty. It was hard to hate you. It was impossible to fear you, once we got to know you."

“Excuse you,” Will grumbled in mock offence, hiding his small smile of his own behind his coffee cup. He took a sip, finally feeling warm.

-

Being nothing to Mike Wheeler was something that twelve-year-old Will would have thought impossible. But as they walked silently past each other in the hallway, it was so clearly his reality.

-

Will had bad days sometimes.

Some days he'd fall asleep during class, and no matter how hard his friends shook him he wouldn't wake up. Some days he'd spend the whole morning throwing up till his eyes stung and his legs were unsteady. He'd struggle to breathe, some days, feeling like a weight was pressing down on his chest, making it impossible to draw in a breath.

Usually his friends would be there, though. They would drape their jackets over him as he slept, rub his back as he threw up, and hold his hand as he agonizingly wheezed in and out.

Today was a bad day. A really, really bad day. He couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t move at all. He felt trapped in a haze of pain. It reminded him of the lab, when they burned the vines. His head hurt, his body hurt, everywhere hurt.

He gritted his aching teeth, curled on his side. He was covered in sweat, fever burning him away. It took everything in him not to cry out, to scream, to sob. It felt like he was dying.

The door to his room opened with a creak, creating a strip of light in the dark room. The brightness blinded him even behind his closed eyelids, pain travelling directly into his head. Will bit down a cry, turning his face into the pillow, stained with the blood dripping from his nose.

The door closed quickly after that, blocking out the horrible light. He only opened his eyes when he felt his bed dipping, startled to realise people had entered his room. He lifted his head as high as he could, looking at the four bodies that had settled around him.

Allison and Chris sat by his head, with Jesse and Brooke down around his legs. Will opened his mouth to ask them what exactly they were doing at his house and how they had gotten in. But another wave of pain had him tensing, squeezing his eyes shut and shoving his face back down.

He felt a hand brushing through his hair as his body was wracked with tremors, then another hand on his leg, on his shoulder, rubbing his back. He gritted his teeth tightly, feeling tears well up unbidden in the corners of his eyes.

“It hurts,” he cried quietly, voice croaky and cracking on every word. He couldn’t stop the sobs that started to shake his body, the tears that had now begun to pour. The hands on him tightened, and he felt his friend’s moving closer. Allison rested her cheek against his hair, trying to soothe him as he hiccupped and wept.

“I know,” Allison whispered. He could hear the wobble in her voice, hear her trying to keep it together. “You’re being so brave. So brave.”

But Will didn’t want to be brave. He just wanted it to stop hurting.

-

Will still took the kids out. Not as often as he had during the summer, but now and then after school they would all gather. He often told them stories as they wandered, censored tales of his and the extended Party’s adventures. Will would lead, and they would follow.

Except lately, Will had begun to ease away from the woods. It's not like he avoided them or anything, but he had the urge to show them things outside the woods. To show them Hawkins.

Will lead them all around the town he had grown up in, showing them the tricks and secrets he and his friends had discovered over time. He showed them the best places to race their bikes, where the streets were wide and long. He pointed out the best houses to get Halloween candy from and the hidden shortcuts to get through town faster. He showed the kids how to hit the arcade machines just right to get an extra go and the cheapest places to get snacks from.

Hawkins had become so much more than just a nightmare town that he hated and that hated him back. When Will was in Lenora, he had remembered Hawkins as a prison, each street just another wall closing him in. But if it ever was a prison, it wasn’t anymore. It was just a place, a place he had a childhood in. Streets that he had laughed in and raced through.

“Woah, what is this place?” Felix called out, halting to a stop and causing the rest of the kids behind to run into him.

“Welcome to the junkyard,” Will said, breathing heavily as he fought to keep pace. “I used to come here with my friends all the time when we were young.”

"You still are young," said Matt obnoxiously.

 Will glared. “Younger, then.”

The kids ran off to explore, clambering up on the hoods of old cars and into the beaten-up bus.

He felt that familiar nostalgia when watching the kids bike through the same streets Will and his friends had a thousand times over. Felt an almost grief overtake him as he watched them jump around the same rusted bus.

It may have been too late for Will and his lot. Too much had happened to them in the town for them to see it clearly again, the streets were too stained. But the kids finally had a chance to enjoy what they had worked hard to save.

-

Will climbed out his window one night, or maybe early morning. He couldn’t stay in his room for another minute. The blankets on his bed were suffocating, the walls felt like they were closing in. Another night, another bad dream, another blood-stained pillow. He had to get out.

The grass was damp from the winter night when his feet silently landed, immediately soaking through his socks. He didn’t care, sitting down and leaning against the wood panelling of the house. The coldness was a relief, helping his body feel less detached from the nightmare.

The sky was an inky black above him, the sun still far off rising. He inhaled deeply, watching his breaths cloud out. He could hear soft noises of wind in nearby trees and small animals chirping.

Cold and alone, Will felt the deep ache he had constantly been holding back rise up. Just a few months ago life had been- well, it hadn’t been great. But he had had a family, had friends. And yes, he’d found some of that again, fought for it with his own two hands. But the ache would always be at the edge of his vision, waiting for a moment for him to be vulnerable.

A lifetime ago, Will had had a mother, a brother, a best friend. Now they all seemed so far away. It had helped, pretending that they were all just busy, that they were never even there. But sitting alone on the wet grass, all Will could do was remember when they loved him.

The tears came on suddenly, hitting Will hard and fast. He’d never been a loud crier, or at least he hadn’t used to be, but he choked on a sob all the same. The tears ran down his cheeks in warm streams.

He buried his face in his hands, muffling the small sounds he couldn't hold back. Will knew all too well how thin the walls were. His back shook painfully with each sob, tears slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

It was hard to breathe, and not just from the squeeze of his chest. His family was like a physical, ever-present agony, and it was all Will ever felt.

He was so caught up in his own quiet breakdown that it took him a second to register the large thump he had heard. Pausing in his weeping, Will lifted his face, surprised to see El sprawled on the ground below her window. She had clearly tumbled out and landed with far less grace than Will had earlier.

She grimaced as she stood, brushing herself off unhappily. Her face softened when to turned to Will, seeing his watery eyes wide with shock.

“Can I sit with you?” El asked softly.

Will was confused, but nodded anyway. He used his sleeve to dry his wet cheeks, the course material roughly rubbing against his skin. Will was grateful for the warmth El offered when she ambled over and slid down to sit pressed right up against his arm. He sniffled, blinking away the heavy tears that weighed down his eyelashes.

Will wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, nightmare, or crying which made him feel so perplexed. El hadn’t said anything more, only sitting beside him and picking intensely at the grass around her feet. The situation baffled him, so much so that he could only blink owlishly at El in the silence.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally. She took a deep breath, releasing the poor grass from her grip and sitting up to face Will fully. “I’ve been ignoring you. I’m sorry.” 

“El…” Will started, unsure how to continue. Out of everyone, El had probably done some of the least to hurt him. Faced with her earnestness, Will felt unsteady.

“I didn’t mean to,” she continued quietly, her voice breaking. She blinked rapidly. “At the start, it wasn’t on purpose.”

“I didn’t think it was,” Will assured softly. He reached out a hand, gently squeezing her arm.

Will wasn’t sure if he was helping. El took a quick, shallow breath in, looking up to stop the tears he could hear in her unsteady voice. “I was just so happy, you know? I know you didn’t mind Lenora, I know you were almost happy there. But I hated it. I missed my friends, I missed Hopper, I even missed that stupid cabin. All I could ever think about was coming back.”

Will nodded, understanding more than El thought. Lenora had been good, in some ways. But he was all too familiar with missing the people he loved, now more than ever.

“And then we came back,” continued El. “And everything was perfect, just like I imagined it. I had Joyce still, and now Hopper too. All my friends were right around the corner, closer than they had ever been, and I could finally be with my boyfriend. I was just so happy, I didn’t even think."

El turned her head against the wall to look at Will. The moon was thin, making it hard to identify her expressions in the dim light.

"It honestly took me so long to realise that when I thought I was hanging out with all my friends, you were never there. The first few times I excused it, figured you were busy or whatnot. But after a while, I couldn't deny it."

“El, you don’t have to…” Will started but was unsure how to finish. He didn’t like this story. He already knew the ending. It pained El to tell it, just as it pained him to hear it. Part of him just wanted to keep pretending, that El had just been busy, that no one had noticed how they had treated Will. That it was all just a misunderstanding, an accident.

El moved her arm to slide her hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly. Will braced himself, squeezing back as he nodded.

“They cut you out,” El whispered. “All of them. Dustin, Lucas, Mike. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I should have noticed sooner, and done something when I did. But I was selfish. I was scared to lose it all again, I think. I had just gotten them all back, so I just kept on pretending. Pretending you were busy, or you had other things on.”

"It's okay El," Will murmured. He was disappointed, but ultimately unsurprised. "I understand."

“I’ve been a bad friend,” she said. “I’ve been a bad sister.”

"It's fine."

“I'm sorry.”

“I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t,” El tells him.

Will looked at her, their faces just inches from each other. She looked so guilty, so ashamed. He hated seeing her like that and just wanted to brush it all away. But she had been honest with him, so sincere, that he figured he should try to do the same.

“Look,” Will murmured. “I won't say that it didn’t hurt. That it was all fine. I guess I thought things would have been different too, the same as you. That now that everything with the Upside Down was over, we could finally go back to before.”

It was a dream that Will had never been fully able to let go of. Things had always been off since the Demogorgon took him. Nothing had felt the same after, and all Will wanted was to go back. It was a naive fantasy that had been cruelly shattered the summer before they left. It had been harsh, but necessary. It was impossible to go back, Will just hadn't wanted to face it.

But some part of him held on, kept thinking that someday it would all just fall into place. That someday, he would be able to feel that way with his friends again.

“If I was in your position,” said Will honestly. “If everything was just how I wanted it, I’m not sure I would have risked it either.” 

He tried to imagine it, coming back to Hawkins and being welcomed back by his friends. He imagined spending the summer with them, laughing and enjoying their company. That they wanted him around, that they didn’t just tolerate him anymore, that they still liked him.

Then he tried to imagine what it would be like, realising that El was cast out, as cold and alone as he felt. Will would have liked to say he wouldn’t have hesitated, that he would have abandoned the Party to defend El without hesitation.

But then Will remembered how warm that basement had felt when they were young and carefree and playing D&D. And Will couldn’t honestly be sure he would have given it up.

“Still,” El whispered. “It shouldn’t have happened at all.”

Maybe if she had said that a few months ago, Will might have disagreed. But it had been a long year, and Will felt like an entirely different person now.

“No,” Will agreed. “It shouldn’t have. But it did, and now we can move past it.”

Will untangled their hands, instead lifting his arm. El wiggled in closer till he could rest his cheek on top of her hair, letting his arm drape loosely over her shoulder. The winter didn’t feel half as cold anymore.

“You missed a lot,” El said, breaking the stillness which had settled. Her tone was troubled, anxious.

“Oh?” Will prompted, brows furrowing.

"Things have been- weird, with the Party," she confided. "Maybe it has been the whole time, and it just took me this long to notice. And it's with all of them too. Dustin has always been loud, but it's different now. Sometimes he will talk all day, telling story after story and making us all laugh. Then some days, he won't talk at all."

Will nodded against her head, frown deepening. El’s words tumbled out, relieved to finally let out what had been worrying her.

“Lucas had been with Max constantly. It was alright at the start, but he hasn’t let up at all. They fight a lot, too. I think Max is scared, and so is Lucas. But he isn’t helping her how she needs to be helped.”

“Oh,” Will said again, feeling somewhat disheartened. This whole time he had thought the Party was off enjoying life without him. There was a sick feeling in his stomach, realising that they all seemed to be struggling. Will had been so caught up feeling sorry for himself that he hadn’t bothered to look past his friend’s apparent facades.

"And Mike," El said, the wobble from earlier reappearing in her voice. Will squeezed her shoulder in support. She let out a wet-sounding chuckle, sniffling before continuing. "Mike's been…bad. I don't really know. We- um, we broke up."

“What!” Will said, forgetting their conservation was held in whispers. He pulled back from El, turning her body so they were facing each other. He’d heard them fighting some time ago, but he’d never expected them to break up.

“Yeah,” El said wetly, not looking Will in the eyes. “It was a long time coming, I think. He was just so angry, all the time. Whenever he wasn’t picking a fight with me or someone else, all we would do was make out. And I tried to talk to him, so many times, but he just wouldn’t listen. He doesn’t want help. He just wants to be angry.”

“El,” Will breathed, pulling her in for a hug. As soon as his arms wrapped around her she finally let out the sobs she had been holding back, tears flowing freely. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

"No, it's okay!" said El, though the voice break halfway through did little to convince Will. "Really, it's fine! I don't even know why I'm crying. I mean, I broke up with him.”

“That doesn't matter,” Will said, rubbing her back as she sniffled. “You did a hard thing.”

"Yeah," El relented, letting herself relax into Will a bit. "It was hard. I broke up with him once before, but this felt different. I think it's over. Really over."

“It doesn't have to be,” Will said quietly. He ignored the ache in his chest as the words left his mouth. He didn’t let himself feel anything at all. “If you wanted to date him again, it wouldn’t be seen as weak to go back. There’s nothing wrong with needing some time.”

“No,” said El, voice surprisingly sure. “I don’t think I want that anymore. I think this is it.”

“Okay,” whispered Will, rocking slightly to soothe El as her tears began to slow. Will was stunned. He had never really considered that El and Mike would actually break up. It had seemed so outlandish, against everything Will had grown up with. The story ends, and the couple lived happily ever after.

But if this was the ending El wanted, Will wouldn’t get in the way. It was the least she deserved.

He shivered when El finally pulled back, settling back against the wall and wiping at her face just as Will had earlier. Will shuffled to sit next to her again, eyeing her worriedly out of the corner of his vision.

“Thank you,” she smiled, weak but true.

“Anytime,” Will joked with a smile of his own.

Will turned his head so they were again only a few inches away, both of their eyes red and puffy. The smile slowly slid off El’s face, and she reached out to hold his hand. Her grip was tight, squeezing to the point his fingers began to hurt.

“I’ve missed you,” whispered El. The earnestness of the statement caught him off guard. It held undercurrents Will didn’t understand, but he could feel the weight nonetheless.

“I’ve been right here,” he whispered back.

El looked sad at that, glancing away. She dropped her head on his shoulder, Will automatically resting his atop hers. She gave his hand one last squeeze, neither of them saying another word till the morning broke.

-

Part of it was good, getting El back. She came to hang out with him in his room again, quietly filling the time when he sketched or painted. She sat next to him in class and Will introduced her to his friends in school. It was nice, having her back.

But some days, it made the gaping chasm between him and everyone else so painfully clear. It’s like she had opened his eyes to the rest of the Party, to Mom and Jonathan. He couldn’t pretend anymore, couldn’t close his eyes.

It hurt before. It hurt so much worse now.

-

It snowed one day. Will knew it would be the last of the season, nothing more than a final farewell before the winter well and truly ended.

Will smiled into his scarf as Jesse stumbled ahead, hearing Allison and Brooke immediately tease him. They were all walking through the woods, heading to a clearing that had quickly become a favourite of the groups. They were all talking and laughing as they trudged through the slush, giggling like school children on their first snow day.

Chris, of course, challenged them all to every snow-related competition there was once they reached the open space. Snow angels, snowmen, snowball fights.

Will thought he wouldn’t stand a chance, but managed to win a round of the snowman-making competition when Jesse 'accidentally' knocked down Brooke's creation. Will still thought his win was valid, as Brooke had won in the turn before and was insufferably smug about it. She still chased Jesse around and shoved a handful of snow down the back of his shirt for his effort though.

They only left when their clothes had been thoroughly drenched. Their fingers were frozen, hair full of snow and cheeks were red and raw. Will had always hated the cold, but he had never been happier.

-

Will and Allison were walking home after school when he felt everything suddenly fall into place. Though the timing was a surprise, he had felt this a long time coming. It had been there for a while, spreading and climbing until it finally reached Will’s consciousness.

“I’m going to get my friends back,” Will told Allison. “I want them back.”

It felt inevitable that Will would get to this point. He was calm with certainty, peaceful at the realisation that this is what he wanted. It was that simple: Will missed his friends, so he would get them back.

Allison stopped in her tracks, staring at Will who also paused a few steps ahead. She let out a confused, “What?”

“My friends,” Will repeated calmly. “From before. I want them back.”

“The same ‘friends’ who ditched you last summer?” Allison scoffed. “What on earth would you want them back for?”

Will shrugged. “I just do.”

Allison looked at him incredulously, moving forward and slipping her arm in his to continue down the path. Will happily let himself be dragged, looking at how each of the gardens they passed was blooming now that the winter had thawed.

“Will, do you think that’s the best idea?” she asked timidly. Worriedly. “They didn’t treat you well at all. Do you really want to waste time getting them back when you don’t…”

…don’t have much time left at all.

She trailed off, and Will looked down, suddenly sobered. Allison coughed to break the tension, straightening up and continuing on with renewed determination.

“Look, I just don’t think you should be chasing after them when they are the ones who fucked up. They should be chasing after you with apologies.”

“Maybe.” Will nodded, considering her point of view. “But I know these people. I know that they already know they fucked up. That isn’t the issue. The issue is that it’ll take them time, to apologise.”

“So wait,” Allison said coldly. Will eyed her as she marched. She seemed far angrier about the situation than him. “Let them come to you, and beg for forgiveness.”

“I can't wait that long,” Will nearly whispered. “I don’t have enough time.”

Allison once again abruptly stopped, pulling Will to a halt with her. He was toeing the line and they both knew it. No one ever talked about his sickness, never vocalised what they knew was coming. But here Will was getting close to breaking the unwritten rule. Allison was blinking down at the ground, eyes filled with unshed angry tears.

“Besides,” Will tried gently. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Are you serious right now, Will?” Allison burst out, taking a step forward and pressing her index finger against the centre of Will’s chest. “Nothing happened? What about how they all ignored you? What about the hospital?”

Will’s stomach churned at the reminder, but he powered on. “You’re blowing it out of proportion.”

“No, Will, I’m really not!” Allison threw her hands up. “That shit was awful, and I’m sure you only told me the watered-down version.”

“It doesn't matter anyway,” said Will, keeping his voice soft and steady. “What matters is that I want them back.”

Allison deflated, dropping her head into her hands with a sigh. “You shouldn't.”

“But I do, Allison,” Will moved to pull her hands away, interlocking their arms and setting off down the street again. “I miss them.”

Allison groaned, resting her head against Will's shoulder as they walked. "I just don't think they deserve you, Will. And they sure of hell don't deserve you chasing after them when they made the mistake."

"A mistake," Will agreed. "They've all been through a lot, more than you can imagine. They made mistakes, and it put distance between us. I made mistakes too, though. And I let the distance grow."

“You needed space,” she defended. “You needed to heal.”

“Yes,” Will agreed. “And so did they. But I’ve healed. Maybe not fully, probably never fully. But I’m happy. I can't even remember the last time I’ve lived so happily. But I don’t want to die with all this rot hanging between me and them. I don’t want to let it stay that way over a mistake. They’re my family.”

“You’re not going to die,” she muttered instinctively.

“Yes, I am. And I don’t want to die without them. I don’t want them to blame themselves for cutting me off.”

“So this is about them?” Allison pulled away, dropping his arm.

"Of course not. It's about what I want."

“No,” she said resentfully. “You’re wasting your time trying to reconcile with them so they won't feel shitty when you die! You’re being selfless Will. You’re allowed to be selfish.”

"If I really wanted to be selfless," countered Will. "I wouldn't get close to them. If I wanted to be selfless, I would stay far away from them. I would go and disappear and be nothing but an odd thought, a distant memory. But this, getting close to them again, is selfish. Wanting to be loved by them again only to leave, that's selfish."

Allison looked like she was about to cry, her hands clasping and unclasping rapidly. “I don’t want you to think I’m not supporting you, really. I’m just worried. I hate remembering how you were when I first got to know you, how sad and withdrawn you seemed. I care about you, and I don’t want to see you like that again. Not after how it played out last time…”

Will pulled her in for a hug, feeling his jacket grow taunt from the tightness of her grip on his back. She had good reason to be worried, but Will was certain. This is what he wanted.

“When all that stuff happened,” Will explained. “It was right after probably the worst experience any of us had and will ever go through. We had all lost people, and I don’t think a single one of us was processing it well. But a lot of time has passed since then, and a lot of things have changed. I think that they have all realised that how they acted was not okay like El did, but I'm not sure they are all ready to be forgiven. I don't want to have to wait for them. I can't."

Allison remained silent, sniffling a little before nodding to show she was listening.

"I've been happy, yes, but I also just constantly miss them. It's always at the back of my mind, on the edges of my thoughts. I miss my family, Ally, and I want them back."

Allison nodded again, pulling back and wiping at her eyes. "Okay. I still don't think they deserve you, but this isn't about them. It's about what you deserve, what you want. If they are what you want, then go get them."

Will grinned, holding out his hand to her.

“Let’s get going then.”

-

Despite Will’s resolution, he realised he didn’t know exactly how he was going to get his family back. He made efforts in small ways, like coming home earlier or smiling at the Party when they crossed paths at school.

However, Will hadn’t worked up the guts to make the first big move before someone else beat him to it. Someone else being, of course, Dustin Henderson.

Will had been holding off the nausea all day, walking from class to class with a green-tinged face and a pinched smile. By the time his last class dragged to an end, Will couldn’t hold it in a moment longer.

Muttering a quick excuse to Chris, Will snatched his bag as soon as the bell rung and dashed to the nearest toilet. The door of the cubicle clanged loudly, Will not having enough time to lock it properly before he was bent over, throwing his lunch up.

That’s where Dustin found him, heaving with his face buried in the toilet seat. Will groaned. As if he needed more reasons to feel embarrassed.

“Will, buddy, you alright?” Dustin said, immediately dropping to his knees on the floor beside Will, who only lifted a shaky thumbs up before vomiting again. Dustin tsked, placing one hand on Will’s back and using the other to push the fringe out of Will’s eyes.

Will expected him to make an excuse to leave soon after, but was surprised when Dustin stayed by his side until Will had nothing but bile left. He groaned, feeling sweaty and disgusting. He reached up to flush the toilet, collapsing back into the wall of the cubicle and pulling his knees inward to create more space. Dustin followed suit, shifting to sit across from Will.

“Here,” said Dustin, handing him a folded piece of toilet paper. Will accepted gratefully, using it to wipe his mouth. The awful taste still remained, but it helped him feel better.

“Thanks,” Will smiled. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I actually go to school here? I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’ve lived here like my whole life.”

Will rolled his eyes at the sarcasm, stretching his foot out to shove Dustin a little. “You know what I mean.”

Dustin only shrugged. "I've been meaning to get you alone for a while now, but you're always surrounded by people. I saw my opportunity."

“By cornering me while I throw up?”

“Well I didn’t know you went in here to vomit, asshole,” Dustin said, shoving Will who laughed. “Seriously though, you alright?”

“Yeah, just haven’t been feeling well all day.”

“You’re better than I am. One cough and I’d be skipping gym in a heartbeat.”

Will laughed, and after a second Dustin joined in. He had missed this. Had missed him and the Party just having fun together. The world wasn’t ending, there was no one to fight. Just Will and Dustin, sitting on the floor, laughing about nothing.

The atmosphere sobered once their laughs tampered off. They looked at each other, and Will began to question why, exactly, Dustin had followed him in the first place. He hadn’t seemed to want anything to do with Will last summer, so why was he here?

“I want to apologise,” Dustin said, clearing up any confusion Will had. “For how I treated you after the battle. And before that too, I guess. There aren’t any excuses, because I never should have acted that way no matter what I was going through. But I do want to explain, if you’ll let me.”

Dustin seemed nervous, but determined. After a beat, Will nodded.

"I think everything leads back to Eddie," Dustin began after a deep breath. "I'm not using him as an excuse, but when he- when he died, I was wrecked. And obviously fighting a war didn't help, I was already in a bad place. But when it was over, all I could ever think about was Eddie. Every thought I had, every breath I took or step I'd take, I was always thinking about how much he had bled, how it was my fault, how he was dead."

"And then," Dustin said, glancing up at Will. He looked a little scared. "I saw you. You, who had never even met Eddie, who didn't miss him at all. Here I was, drowning in grief and barely functioning while you stood, happy as day without ever having to feel what I was feeling. Obviously, that wasn't fair, I know that now. But back then, I hated you for it. I just felt so angry. So angry that you could just sit there, sit there and not be completely devastated by his death. That my world had shattered, and you were perfectly fine."

Will didn't know what to do. He didn't feel angry like he thought he might of. He mainly felt sad. Will had gone through his fair share of death, but admittedly no one close to him had ever died like that. Seeing Dustin, shaky and unsteady before him, Will couldn't summon any anger over his unjust treatment. He didn't want to.

Will crawled across the cubicle to sit beside him. He pressed their arms together, reaching for Dustin's hand, who gripped it back tightly. He gave Will a shaky but grateful smile which he returned immediately.

“But then,” Dustin continued. “We stopped talking. Months passed, and I finally pulled my head out of my ass and realised what a jerk I’d been. Took me a little while longer to grow the balls to come and apologise, but here I am. I’m sorry, Will. I’m really sorry. I’ve missed you. None of this was your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I forgive you.”

The words came out easily, maybe too easily, but Will didn’t regret them. He was telling the truth to Allison. Dustin had made a mistake, and Will had decided that it wasn’t worth losing him or anyone over.

Dustin faced Will, a little disbelieving. “God, Will you’re making me feel worse. Don’t be so nice. Make me work for it a little.”

Will laughed, leaning further into his friend. “I don’t want to make you work for it. I just want my friend back. I’ve missed you too.”

“I’m sorry. I won't leave you again.”

The sweat on Will had dried uncomfortably on his skin. His stomach hurt and he still felt exhausted from all the vomiting earlier. He still felt undercurrents of nausea lingering in his throat.

Dustin might not leave, but Will soon would.

-

Karen Wheeler crossed paths with Will one weekend around town. She smiled at him just as warmly as she had when they had last talked all those months ago.

“You look happy,” she said. She didn’t elaborate or question Will any further. She simply looked at him, as a mother would to a child.

Will smiled back, eyes crinkling and gaze softening. “I am.”

Mrs. Wheeler beamed and briefly lifted a hand to cup the side of Will’s face, her thumb brushing a curve along his cheek before they both moved on past the other.

-

It was a lot harder for Will to repair his relationships with the rest of his estranged loved ones than it was with Dustin and El. Will realised pretty quickly that it was because he hadn’t had to do anything really. They had both approached Will, and both wanted Will back in their lives. All he had to do was listen and forgive.

So, despite a sister and a friend stronger, Will hadn’t really gotten anywhere. He was still clueless on how to bridge the gap between himself and everyone else.

Will approached the problem the same way he always did; slowly, calmly and patiently. He had never been one to blow up or to face things head-on, as he often found that if he just waited long enough, hid long enough, the problem would resolve itself. For someone who only had limited time, Will thought he would be feeling a sense of urgency. But no, he remained steady as always, thoughtfully pulling away at the castle brick by brick, rather than storming through the gates.

Though Will kept up the kind gestures to the Party at school, his first and foremost priority was his mother. He had missed her, this past year. Really, really missed her. He tried not to blame himself too much for not helping her when she needed it. She had been struggling to keep afloat, but so had Will. If he had attempted to keep her up, Will was sure they both only would have sunk faster.

He had spent the last year healing, and it seemed she had as well. Joyce hadn’t woken in the night screaming for months now, and went about her day with an easy smile that Will had forgotten she used to have. Her hair was slightly greyer, the lines around her eyes more distinct, but she seemed happy. Strong enough to handle whatever was coming. She would be okay.

But Will was scared. He had hardly spoken to her in over half a year, and had rarely even been in the same room. Unlike the others, unlike the Party, Will had been the one to really put the distance between himself and his mom. He had pushed away from her, and she had been so lost in her own grief that she hadn’t even known to hold on.

Now he had come back, terrified that she had moved on, that she had given up on Will.

All of Will fears and doubts had been rebutted by a single bowl of soup and some half-burnt toast left on the kitchen counter. He had spent the evening at the quarry, losing track of time and not returning till well after everyone had eaten. But on the bench, a single serve of dinner made just for him.

Will’s not completely sure what, exactly, it was about the soup that struck him so deep. Perhaps it was because he was already looking for proof, for evidence that his mother still cared for him. And in his eyes, all it took was lukewarm soup left out on the counter.

Will didn’t go to the quarry the next evening. He came home to find his mother already in the kitchen, bent over a cookbook.

“Hi,” Will breathed, pausing in the doorway.

Joyce had on a flowery apron, her hair tied back but still frizzy from the heat of the kitchen. She glanced up at Will’s arrival, her eyes widening comically upon seeing him. She straightened, splaying her hands across on the bench as she took him in the same way he did her.

“Will,” Joyce smiled. “You’re home early.”

“Yeah,” Will said, pausing awkwardly. They both knew so little about the other, and Will had no idea where to start. He swallowed. “Thank you for the soup last night.”

“Oh, you liked it?” Joyce jumped, signalling down to the open book before her. “I found this recipe book when I was packing up our place in Lenora. I’m trying to get through every recipe in the book. Some of the instructions I just don’t get though. Here, you come have a look.”

Will's feet moved before his brain, moving to stand beside his mom on the bench. He leaned over same as her, his arm brushing against her shoulder. He looked at where she pointed.

“…cream the eggs and sugar,” Will read. He looked at his mom, her expression mirroring his confusion. “What does that mean?”

Joyce threw her hands up, exasperated. “I don’t know! I’ve been trying to figure it out, but I think I’ll just have to come back to this recipe later.”

Will laughed a little. “That’s probably for the best.”

"Either way, I was just about to get started on dinner," she said, and started flipping through the pages to find a suitable meal. She hunched down, leaning more against Will than before. He didn't move, just watched her turn page after page.

“Can I help?” Will dared to ask when she paused on a simple enough looking recipe. He held his breath, flicking his eyes up to meet hers.

She smiled widely. “I’d love that, baby.”

It quickly became a tradition for them both to pick a page and work through the instructions listed. They would talk the whole time, catching up on what they had missed over the past few months.

They probably should have chosen a better activity to do together, Will realised, after they pulled out their fourth burnt quiche out of the oven. Neither he nor his mom had exceptional, or really even average cooking abilities. But Will didn’t care, and happily gnawed on his charred dinner every night.

“Did you two set something on fire again?” Hopper called out from the living room one night.

Will grimaced, and looked over to see his mother with the same expression. Hopper had taken to sitting in the room over whenever they cooked, a fire extinguisher at the ready. Will wished he could say Hopper was being overdramatic, but the tall fire scorching away on the stove before him indicated otherwise.

Joyce picked up the pan whose contents were aflame, running it over the sink to douse it in water. Will followed after her, opening the window to frantically fan out the smoke filling the kitchen.

They both watched the flames sizzle out into nothing, the water washing it and their attempt at pasta sauce down the drain. They dragged their gazes up from the pan to meet each others eyes, answering Hopper in synchronised, “No!”

Will could hear El laughing near a grumbling Hopper, likely hearing the commotion and smelling the ruined dish.

“Oh, like he could do any better,” Joyce said to Will.

“I heard that!”

Will laughed, grabbing a handtowel and flourishing it around to help clear the air. “I think we might have to restart.”

“Yeah I think so," Joyce said, and they both stared sadly at the remaining black globs in the sink. She turned, smiling brightly at Will. "Well, at least now I get to spend more time with you."

Will rolled his eyes, but felt a smile of his own curve his lips. They looked at each other for a moment, before his mom opened her arms for a hug which Will gladly stepped into. He had to stoop a little to reach her and she squeezed him tightly.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, so only he could hear.

“Me too.”

-

Will couldn’t hold a pencil straight.

He was sitting on his bed with his sketchbook open, staring at his hand. It visibly shook, the tip of the pencil never remaining still. He pressed it to the paper anyway, drawing out a straight line. Or at least, it was meant to me straight. It came out just as shaky as his hands, filled with bumps and pulses.

Will tried again, his fingers spasming and dragging the pencil tip with him. He tried again, but the lead pulled and jolted out of its path. He tried again. Again. Again. Line after line, not a single one straight, not one even close.

The lead tip of the pencil splintered under the pressure, pushing through the page and creating an ugly rip. Will gripped the paper tighter, causing it to crinkle slightly in the corner.

Will lifted his pencil and tried again, and again and again.

He was running out of time.

-

Will barged into Jonathan’s room the next morning without knocking. When he had spotted his brother's car in the driveway on the walk back from the quarry, Will felt a sort of impatience settle over him. 

It was hard to repair your relationship with your brother when your brother was never there. Jonathan rarely returned home for long these days, always sleeping over at Nancy’s place, or just ducking in for a quick bite before leaving for work.

Will had seen more of Mike Wheeler, who was purposely going out of his way to avoid him, than he had his own brother. It was frustrating.

He charged into the house, not bothering to wipe his shoes and getting flecks of mud all over the floor. Will didn’t care, continuing his warpath down the hallway and opening the door to Jonathan’s room without a second of hesitation.

“Will!” Jonathan startled, dropping the duffle bag he had been holding in his surprise. He leaned against the wall behind him once he registered Will, taking a few deep breaths and lifting a hand up to cover his heart in a gesture that reminded Will strongly of their mother. “Don’t scare me like that! Knock next time.”

“I need to talk to you,” Will said impassively, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. He watched as Jonathan picked up the bag he had dropped, reaching in and pulling out a handful of dirty clothes which he then stuffed into the hamper beside him. He must have only just gotten home.

“Okay, that doesn’t mean you need to break down my door. Jesus.” Jonathan shook his head, pulling out another handful. He lifted the bag up to look inside, jerking it to dislodge the last few stubborn items. “So, what is it that you need to talk about?”

The irritation that Will had been feeling only grew. His brother had been ignoring, or at least forgetting him for the better part of a year. And when Will tried to talk to him for the first time in months, Jonathan didn’t even bother to take Will seriously, or even give him his full attention.

Will took a calming breath, reminding himself that this is what he wanted. He wanted his brother back, no matter how he was getting on Will’s nerves.

“Let’s do something.”

The words were at this point familiar, and Will already knew how Jonathan would respond before he opened his mouth.

“Oh,” Jonathan grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. He shuffled away from the hamper to the cupboard in the corner of his room, and started to pull out piles of clean clothes. Will watched as Jonathan immediately began to fill the duffle bag he had just emptied with fresh clothes. "I don't know if I can right now, Will. I just stopped by today to do some laundry, so I don't reckon there will be enough time."

Though Will knew it was coming, he still felt disappointed. Some part of him had hoped Jonathan had changed, like Dustin had. That he had realised he was being kind of a dick, and that he would jump at the opportunity Will had given.

“Not right now then. Sunday. In the afternoon.” The day was nothing special, but Will knew that Jonathan's work was closed on Sundays. He had heard his mom and Hopper chatting about it earlier, and had tucked the information away. “We can watch a movie or play board games or anything. Just be there.”

Jonathan continued to stuff his bag full of clothes, each handful feeling like a punch to Will's gut. Jonathan sighed like the world was on his shoulders. "I don't know, I'm just not sure that would work, you know…"

The annoyance Will had been shoving down flared in his stomach, boiling and licking up his throat. No, Will didn’t know. What he did know is that Jonathan would, in fact, be free this weekend. That he would be free every Sunday for the foreseeable future, in fact. Will knew that he was physically able to attend, and knew that Jonathan hadn’t even bothered to come up with a good excuse as to why he couldn’t come.

“No,” Will said, straightening up from the doorway. He was pissed, and knew Jonathan could sense the shift by the way his eyes flicked to Will in worry and confusion. “I don’t know why you can't come. Tell me.”

Jonathan spluttered, unprepared for the sudden challenge. He swung his arms around, the swollen bag swinging with his agitated movements. “I just thought, I don’t know, that, you know…”

“No, Jonathan, we just established that I don’t ‘you know’,” said Will, voice tight with irritation. He took one step into the room, arms still crossed against his chest.

“Will, what’s going on?” Jonathan asked, voice full of innocent confusion.

“What’s going on, Jonathan, is that you’ve been ignoring me for the past year!” Will yelled.

Jonathan took a step back, brows furrowing and head shaking. “No Will, I’d never-”

“Yes you have!” Will nearly shouted. “You’re never here! You’re either at work, or with Nancy, or applying for colleges or hanging out with Steve. Which is fine! You are an adult, you shouldn’t have to deal with me all the time anymore.”

Will was breathing heavily, speaking so loud he could taste a faint lingering of copper in his mouth. Jonathan was still staring at him dumbly, and Will watched as he finally let the bag drop onto the floor.

“But you once said I was your best friend. Your best friend. And I know you probably only said that to make me feel better, but you were my first friend, Jonathan, and I’ll love you forever.”

Will swallowed thickly, averting his eyes. He couldn’t watch as Jonathan’s shoulders sagged, as his expression crumpled with every word Will said. He needed to get this out.

“And then, suddenly I’m out of danger, and you just forget about me. I’m still not really sure if it was on purpose or not, if you were actually just ignoring me…”

“No,” Jonathan croaked, sounding devastated. “No, Will, no. I would never-”

“But I don’t care if you don’t want me anymore,” Will burst out. He took a forceful step forward. “Because I want you. I want to talk to you, I want to see you around the house. I want to listen to your music and wander around the woods with you. I miss you, Jonathan, I miss you so much.”

Will's anger had subsided, leaving only a gaping space inside him. Will had never cried so much in his life as he had the last few months, and he fought hard not to cry now. But faced with his brother, looking so heartbroken before him, all Will wanted to do was break down right then and there.

"I'm sorry, Will," Jonathan whispered, voice thick with emotion. He took a step forward, waiting to see if Will would move away. When he didn't, Jonathan took another step, then another, till he was right in front of him.

“You will be there,” Will said. He had meant it to come out strong, demanding almost. But instead it was painfully unsure, more of a question. He cleared his throat, trying again. “Sunday, you’ll be there. Bring Nancy, even. But- but we will sit down, we will play games and watch movies and have a nice dinner together with Mom. Yes?”

“Yes,” Jonathan breathed. He gave a questioning look to which Will nodded, and stepped forward to wrap Will in a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to Will’s forehead, murmuring reassurances into his hair. “Yes, of course I’ll be there. I never meant to make you feel like this. I’ve been so stupid, so wrapped up in myself. You’re my little brother, you’ll always be my little brother. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I’ll be here, I promise.”

Will snaked his arms around his brother, and squeezed him back.

-

Will found a bike.

He had seen it sitting abandoned on the side of the road for weeks, but was hesitant to approach it in case someone came back to claim it. But as time passed and the bike remained untouched, Will finally took it home.

It was rusty, and squeaked at every joint. But it fit him perfectly, the worn seat already adjusted to his height and pedals flawlessly positioned. Will took it as a sign, as a blessing.

He rode it for hours, riding as fast as he could, racing no one but his own thoughts. He could never quite beat them, so he pedalled till all he could hear was his own blood pumping in his ears. It was exhilarating, it was everything Will had missed. The wind whistled past him.

He promised he’d ride it for as long as he could.

-

Thump. Thump. THUMP.

The board shook with the force of the movements, the metal top hat coming to a harsh stop on a blue-topped rectangle. The small plastic houses and hotels covering the board trembled, the final thump echoing like a death warrant. Steve slowly withdrew his trembling hand from the top hat token, eyes dragging to look at Will who sat across from him, staring down at Steve impassively.

“Will, please…” Steve muttered.

“Park Place,” mused Will, reading from the rectangle Steve had landed on. “That’s 350 monopoly dollars, Steve.”

"Please, Will," Steve immediately began to plead. He raised himself up further on his elbows from where he lay on the floor, looking up at Will with wide, imploring eyes. "You know I don't have that. I can’t afford that. Please, we can work something out!”

Will didn’t answer, only tilting his head to the side and folding his hands neatly in his lap. His eyes burned into Steve’s, hard and unmoving. Steve quickly turned to the only other person still left in the game besides himself and Will.

“Nancy,” he breathed desperately. “Nance. Please, help me out here.”

“Shh, Steve. I need to concentrate,” Nancy dismissed, studying the game intensely and with a bit of uncharacteristic despair. The board between them was dominated by Will’s little red houses, with only a handful of Nancy’s green and Steve’s one, puny yellow house down on Connecticut Avenue.

Steve considered the board once more, his whole body slumping, desperately searching for a way out. But Will knew this was his end, that there was no way out. Steve met his eyes, a final plea.

Will took a second to look as if he was considering. He brought his arm up, fixing the cuff of the shirt he was wearing which was folded slightly over his wrist. His eyes flicked up to Steve, voice cold. “That’s 350.”

"Man, that kid is fucking brutal," whispered Robin to Dustin on the couch next to her. Jonathan at their feet nodded knowingly. They all watched as Steve dropped his last property in Will's awaiting hand, then flopping dramatically onto his back and groaning in defeat. Will didn't react, just replaced Steve's yellow house with his own red one.

“I warned him not to choose Monopoly,” Dustin replied around a mouthful of chips. “I told him Will always wiped the floor with us. We had to ban it at Party game nights 'cause he won every goddamn time."

Jonathan had indeed shown up the Sunday after Will confronted him, and had continued to show up every Sunday since. After a few weeks he invited Nancy, Will invited El and Dustin and then both Robin and Steve as well. The games were a big hit, with Joyce and Hopper taking the afternoon to go out for a date and returning later to have dinner with everyone. Will was happy to have some of the extended Party back together, to see them all laughing together in a way they hadn’t really since the battle ended.

It was all going well, until Steve insisted on playing Monopoly one Sunday. Will had remained quiet, which in itself wasn’t unusual, but Jonathan knew better. He was proven right when he lost everything just half an hour into the game, his tactics the most familiar to Will and easily exploited.

Jonathan had accepted his defeat easily, watching as Will quickly made good work of Robin soon after. Dustin had fallen after an intense few minutes where he went against Will's head-on, a face-off Jonathan hadn't even known was possible in Monopoly until he saw it play out before his eyes.

But, like all the others, Dustin lost, and shamefully made his way over to the couch of defeat. Steve too lumbered his way over, leaving the game to just Will and Nancy. El sat between them, dutifully counting through the money in her job as the banker.

“We banned it at home too,” Jonathan chimed in. “I saw the look in his eye when Steve pulled it out. I love Nance, but she doesn’t have a chance.”

Steve fell heavily to lay on the floor by the feet of the other losers, sighing. "I don't even know what just happened. Didn't think Baby Byers had it in him, he's just so nice."

“That must be how he gets you,” Robin replied, using her socked foot to poke at Steve’s limp body. “Acts all nice on the outside, but really, he’s a capitalist at heart.”

"Every day I'm thankful he chose art," Dustin said wisely. "I'm scared of what he could have been if he'd chosen to pursue his other talents."

They all turned to watch as Nancy was forced to give up another property, and nodded gratefully.

“Agree to never play Monopoly here again?” proposed Robin.

“Agreed,” they all declared.

-

Dew clung to the grass covering the back garden of the Hopper-Byers house, gleaming in the early morning light. There was a thin layer of water covering the porch Will stood on, soaking through his sleeves where he rested his arms on the wooden railing.

He watched the dew gather into a waterdrop on a piece of grass. It rolled down the length of the stem to cling to the tip, bending the blade with its weight. The water continued to gather and the grass to bend, until the drop finally fell, making the blade spring up in a flourish. 

Will sighed, slumping to rest his head in the crook of his elbow. He felt drained. He had been trying to make any sort of progress with Mike over the past few weeks without any success. Every smile Will sent would be returned with a scowl, every wave met with a glare. It was hard to keep trying when he felt he was getting nowhere.

Will sighed again, deep and heavy.

He just missed how they used to be. Will missed it when Mike would wait for him by the bike racks at school every morning, when he would save Will a seat next to him in class or slide over a snack he had gotten for Will at lunch.

We’ll go crazy together, right?

He just missed how Mike used to be. He wondered if it was bad to miss some past version of the boy when the real Mike was still here, just in Will’s peripheral. It made him feel guilty to reminisce about someone who was right in front of him. Will felt almost like he was betraying Mike.

“Will,” a gentle voice called quietly from behind him. Will jolted and straightened, surprised to see his mother holding two steaming cups of coffee. He hadn’t realised she was awake, nor had he been paying attention enough to hear her join him outside. She held a cup out to him, smiling softly. “Want to sit?”

"The ground is wet," Will cautioned while reaching out to grab one of the offered mugs.

Joyce shrugged, sitting on the wooden porch anyway with her legs hanging over the edge. After a moment of hesitation Will sat too, though far less gracefully than his mother. He ended up sloshing the hot liquid over the lip of the mug and hissed as it stung his hand. The water coating the deck quickly soaked into his pants, causing Will to cringe at how the material clung to his skin.

Joyce sipped her drink, unphased by Will’s disturbances to the peaceful morning. He had been taller than his mom for a while now, but still felt so small next to her. She shivered slightly, wrapping her hands tighter around her coffee. Will shuffled over to share his warmth with her wordlessly.

They both sat in silence for a while, taking small sips of the coffee and watching steam spiral out of their cups. Though the chill had started to fade as the sun rose, they still sat pressed up to one another.

“You know you can talk to me,” Joyce said out of the blue. Will turned to face her, confusion evident. She just gave a crooked smile. “If you wanted to. I know I- that I haven’t been as here as I should have been lately. But I want you to know that you can talk to me still.”

Will breezed over the first part of the statement, only smiling at his mom. “Talk about what?”

"Anything, Will," Joyce breathed, so eager, so sincere. Will had never doubted that she loved him for every day she proved it. "You can talk to me about anything. You could tell me about school, or what art you've been working on. I always want to know what you're feeling, what you're thinking about."

Will let the offer hang in the air. Dew collected on a grass blade in front of him, forming into a ball and rolling to hang off the end of the grass. Like all the others, the drop fell, and the grass sprung back, as if it had never even been weighed down in the first place.

“Do you miss me?” Will asked, still looking at the grass.

“What?” said Joyce, perplexed. Worried, almost. “What are you talking about? You’re right here.”

“I know,” mused Will. He thought about Mike, about who Mike used to be. “But do you miss who I used to be? Before everything happened?”

“Oh,” Joyce said, but didn’t make to respond any further.

Will felt his heart beat faster for every second she remained silent. He anxiously kicked his feet out where they hung. His coffee was losing its warmth, but he sipped it anyway.

“In some ways,” she said carefully. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

Will's stomach dropped yet his shoulders loosened in relief. He had expected an immediate response, a thoughtless denial regardless of whether it was the truth. But it was nice to be taken seriously, to be told the truth. He felt somewhat assured in the guilt he felt about Mike, though he couldn't deny his devastation knowing his mom's feelings.

"But probably not in the way you're thinking of," Joyce followed up quickly. She chewed on her words for a bit, trying to find the right way to say what needed to be said. "I'll always miss you who used to be, and I did even before this mess. When you were five I missed who you were at four, and when you were four, I missed you at three. I’ll always cherish who you were, and who I was with you. But I don’t wish you were who you used to be.”

Will didn’t respond, but his face must have betrayed his scepticism.

“No, really,” Joyce laughed. “Obviously, I wish you hadn’t had to go through all you did, but I don’t wish you of six years ago was here instead. I love who you are right now, and in a year or in a day, when you change again, I’ll still love you for now, and I’ll love you for then. Does that make sense?”

Will considered her words. Slowly, he began to nod. “Yeah, I think that does make sense.”

And it did. To Will, at least.

Will missed Mike. Will missed how things used to be. But Mike had been through too much and had changed to survive. To expect him to be the same was unfair, and Will shouldn't have expected it at all. Who Mike was now is a product of his circumstances. He had changed so he could survive, and Will would never hate him for that. He could never hate him point blank.

Mike was Mike, and though Will missed the relationship they used to have, he didn't wish for Mike of the past. He couldn't imagine having Mike here with him now, having not lived through the same experiences. The image looked wrong in his head.

Will would keep trying. He wouldn’t give up on Mike, he would keep facing the rejection if it meant he had even a fraction of a chance of getting any part of Mike back.

Will loved who Mike used to be, but Will's feelings towards him weren't all that different even after the time had passed. When he was young, it had been light, filled with hope and blurred with friendship and admiration. Now it was heavier, felt like more of a weight Will was stubbornly carrying rather than a dream he clung to. It was clouded now, dense with thick emotion and mixed with betrayal and resignation.

And though the feelings had changed, so had both Mike and Will. He still loved Mike. He always would, just like how his mother would always love him.

Will placed his coffee cup down beside him, turning to pull Joyce into a hug. She let out a startled laugh, but didn’t hesitate to return the hug back fiercely.

“I love you,” said Will, words muffled against her shoulder and hair.

“I love you too,” she said easily.

Will didn’t try to pull away, just sat tangled with his mom. She didn’t make to move either, instead just silently rubbing her hand up and down his back soothingly.

“I’ll love you now,” she assured, bringing back their earlier conversation. “I’ll love you for who you were. And I’ll love whoever you become. Always.”

Will squeezed her tighter, grasping her shirt in his fist. He closed his eyes regretfully, held her close as if to apologise for what was to come. Soon, he would be gone. There would be no future version of him to love, nor no present one.

Soon, all she'll have to love is memories.

-

Will finally bit the bullet and invited Lucas and Max to the games night. It was inevitable, and the obvious next step in getting the Party back together. He would have invited Mike too, but the boy still took off as soon as Will’s name was mentioned.

Will had finally worked up the nerve to approach them after Dustin kept ‘offhandedly’ mentioning how nice it would be to be with everyone like the good old times, and El told Will that Max had straight up asked her why the whole Party weren’t attending.

The invitation had been tentatively offered by Will and stiffy received by Lucas. Max accepted with a pleased smile, and Lucas with a stilted ‘okay’ devoid of any eye contact.

Sure enough, the following Sunday Max and Lucas stood hand-in-hand on the Hopper-Byer’s doorstep. The house was loud as Dustin argued with Steve over the rules of the game he was trying to teach El and Jonathan was fiddling with the radio which was making horrid screeching noises that made Will’s head ache. Robin and Nancy sat on the couch together, gossiping over a game of cards. 

Max and Lucas seemed to fold into the chaos seamlessly. Games were played, snacks were eaten and movies watched. Everything seemed normal, and technically they were.

But… it was awkward. So awkward. Lucas and Will stayed on opposite sides of the room. They never made eye contact, never talked or so much acknowledged each other aside from when Will opened the door to let them in. They were both jumpy, each painfully uncomfortable in the presence of the other.

And the others definitely noticed. Dustin kept looking between them with squinted eyes, as if he could discover what had happened from observation alone. El kept casting questioning glances at Will, and Jonathan glared accusingly at Lucas even though he knew nothing.

"Why does Lucas look like he accidentally kicked a puppy in the face?" Steve stage whispered to Robin on the couch as the night wore on and the tension in the room had become increasingly undeniable. The movie they were all watching did nothing to muffle to conversation.

“I’m not sure,” Robin whispered back, voice tilted with amused conspiracy. “But I’d bet anything that it’s for the same reason Will looks like he’s been kicked in the face.”

Will glared at them from where he and El sat together. Steve kicked Robin and they both pretended not to see him, looking up at the roof innocently.

"Where are you going?" El asked as Will began to move away.

Will smiled reassuringly as he stood, giving a light stretch. His joints were stiff, and popped painfully with the movement. “Just getting some water.”

The kitchen was cooler than the living room, giving him some much-needed air and privacy. He filled a glass from the tap, taking small, unhurried sips of the water. 

It’s not as if Will hated Lucas. He knew, in theory at least, that he wanted to be his friend again. He missed how they used to be the same way Will missed how he and Dustin or Mike used to be. The circumstances were the same, but so different. Whenever Will saw Lucas, all he could think about was the hospital, how everything had been a blur as he left the room. Will remembered how he had laid on the forest floor, begging for anyone to come to save him while at the same time wishing he was never found again.

Lucas had hurt so much more than Dustin and Mike. Will and Mike had been rocky for years before their friendship finally broke down. Though Will had prayed it wouldn’t happen, it hadn’t been a complete surprise. And even Dustin had shown signs, small doses of anger bleeding through before he finally iced Will out.

But Lucas had been different. He had acted like Will's friend, before hitting Will where it hurt most. Sure, Will had thought of himself as a threat, as a danger to others for a very long time, but he hadn't really expected Lucas to agree.

Will took another sip, eyes fixed on the view outside the window. It was going to get dark soon. Usually the extended Party tended to stay for dinner, so he knew he should probably get started on something. His Mom and Hopper would be back from their date soon too.

“Will?”

He broke from his thoughts, turning to see Max in the entryway of the kitchen. He hadn’t seen much of her since she had gotten out of the hospital besides the odd glance as they passed in school. The distance was mainly his fault, as usually Lucas would be floating around near her.

She wore glasses now, with lenses so thick that Will was sure they weighed her down. El had mentioned how Max's eyes had begun to heal, though her vision was still poor. She usually clung to Lucas's arm as a guide, otherwise she'd use a cane which she whacked Mike's legs with.

“Max,” Will said awkwardly. He liked Max, but still felt uneasy in her presence. The last time he had been close to her had resulted in Lucas’s overreaction, which he was not eager to repeat. “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you,” Max admitted simply, steeping further into the room. Will suddenly began to feel like he was being cornered.

“Oh?” Will questioned, voice pitched. “Um… why?”

“Well isn’t that the question,” Max said, glaring a bit to the left of Will’s head. “I followed you because I want to know what going on.”

Will decided that playing dumb was the best route. His fingers nervously tapped on the glass still clutched in his hands. “Going on with what?”

“What do you think, Will? I want to know what going on with you and Lucas.”

"Nothing's going on with me and Lucas," Will tried to say calmly.

“No, stop it,” Max said. Her voice was shaky, scared almost. “Things have been weird since I woke up. And not just with you and Lucas. You and everyone.”

Will gulped, pressing further back into the counter behind him. He didn’t want to hear this, but Max continued on.

“I’d ask El where you were, and she would always say you were busy. I’d ask Dustin, and he’d make some sarcastic remark that you were off having fun and enjoying life or something equally stupid. Mike snaps at me whenever I ask. Lucas clams up and starts sweating whenever someone says your name. Do you know how gross that is?”

Will laughed a little, and died a little. He forced his shoulders to relax, his voice gentle. “Yeah, that just about tracks.”

“What the hell happened, Byers?” Max asked earnestly. “You’re never around, and you were always at the shelter and hanging out with random people we’ve never talked to before. I thought you must have done something while I was in a coma, something awful. Seriously Byers, what did you do that had everyone acting like that?”

Will turned around, not wanting to face Max, even if he was nothing more than a blur of colour to her. He turned the tap on again, rinsing his cup out and grabbing a sponge to wash it with. He knew Max was still there, waiting for an answer Will couldn’t give.

“I don’t know,” he said evenly.

“What?” said Max incredulously. 

Will placed the cup to dry, grabbing a towel to wipe off his hands. His voice was quiet. “I don’t know what I did, really.”

Max didn’t say anything more, and neither did Will. Eventually he moved past her, making to join the others still watching the movie. On his way out, he turned back to Max once more. 

"It's nice to see you again, Max. I'm glad you came," he said, then left.

- 

Almost a week later, Will awoke to a loud knocking on his bedroom window. Will blinked blearily, disorientated and confused. He squinted at the clock on his bedside table, groaning when he realised it was 2 am.

Knock knock knock.

Will groaned again, dropping his head face-first back into his pillow. He had a feeling that whoever was at his window wouldn't go away no matter how long he pretended to sleep. He could hear furious whispers just behind his blinds, so whoever it was, they weren't alone.

Will dragged his body out from under his blankets, shivering slightly. His hand fumbled at his face, trying to wipe the blood he could feel dried under his nose. He lurched his way over to the window, shoving away the blinds and shouldering the window open.

He blinked down at the two people below him, both looking up as though he had interrupted their conversation even though they had been knocking at his window.

“Max, Lucas,” Will greeted, voice scratchy with sleep. He used the hand he hadn’t used to clean up to blood to clear the sleep out of his eyes, and gazed down at the couple again. “What are you doing here?”

“You need to talk,” Max said, crossing her arms.

“Me?” Will was confused. Perhaps his brain was still slower from sleep, because nothing seemed to be making sense. “What did I do?”

“No, not ‘you’ as in you need to talk,” Max huffed. “You and Lucas need to talk.”

Will glanced at Lucas, who quickly looked away when he caught Will watching. Will rubbed a hand down his face tiredly.

"You came to my bedroom window at 2 am to talk? Actually, how did you know this was my window?”

“That’s not important right now,” Max hissed.

Will blinked again, taking her in more critically. She was wearing Lucas's letterman jacket, bundled up against the cold. But what Will had missed earlier was that Max seemed pissed. Like, really pissed. He leaned back before realising that the anger didn't seem to be aimed at Will at all, but rather at Lucas next to her.

“Max,” Lucas pleaded. “We can do this another day.”

“No,” Max said sharply. “You should have done this months ago, Lucas. Months.”

“Then tomorrow,” tried Lucas again. “Just let him sleep.”

Max took a deep breath in, before turning to address somewhere a bit to the left of Will. “Look, Will, I’m sorry for waking you up, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Will furrowed his brows, feeling the sleep leave him as the cold found him. They must be cold outside, Will realised. “Do you want to come inside? You don’t have to climb through my window, I can just open the front door.”

Max shook her head, and Lucas didn’t respond at all, only staring down at the ground. She inhaled deeply before continuing. “Look, Lucas told me what happened at the hospital.”

Will’s breath caught in his throat, gaze sliding to Lucas.

Will began to realise that this was not a conversation to be had over a window seal. Cringing at how his stiff joints made for uncoordinated movements, he manoeuvred to sit on the sill before dropping off into the dirt below. Apparently it was still cold enough for dew to gather through the night, and Will cringed at his damp socks.

“I’m going to go sit in the car,” Max said, holding her hand out to Lucas. “You two need to talk.”

“Do you need help getting there?” Lucas asked weakly, dropping the keys in her palm.

“No.”

Both boys watched as Max made her way to the beat-up car parked on the grass, arriving with only a few stumbles on the uneven ground. The car door shut with a loud bang that made Lucas cringe, leaving them in silence.

“I didn’t know you could drive,” said Will, attempting to ease into a conversation.

Lucas nodded with a tight smile. “Yeah, I only got it last month.”

Will could hear far-off birds, and turned to look towards the woods where the sounds were coming from. Lucas didn’t follow his gaze, instead keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Will.

Lucas swallowed. “I want to apologise.”

“For the hospital?”

“Yes. And… everything after.”

Will squinted at Lucas suspiciously. The other boy looked sick, anxiously tugging at his hands. “Did Max put you up to this?”

“What, no!” Lucas head shot up, appalled. “Well, I mean, sort of. She did make me come over here right now. I wanted to wait till the morning but whatever. But I want to apologise, not just because she’s making me. I’ve wanted to apologise for a while now.”

“Then explain to me why. Why did you react like that at the hospital?” Will asked, almost sadly. Just like Max had asked a week ago, Will needed to know, what had he done?

“I don’t really have an answer. I was just scared.” Lucas kicked the ground, twisting his fingers painfully.

"You were my friend," Will said. "You were the last one who was treating me like a human. Like a friend. And then you just, turned it around. Ditched me and made it hurt twice as much as anyone else."

"I know," Lucas said quietly. "Trust me, I know. It's all I've been thinking about. I noticed it too, after the battle. How Mike wouldn't look at you, how Dustin was ignoring you. I noticed, and when I was around, I tried to show you that I was there for you. I swear I did."

Will remembered how Lucas used to smile at him in those early days. How he would make room for Will, talk to Will, still hang around Will even as the rest of the Party started to avoid him.

“I know you did,” said Will. “But what changed?”

"That day at the hospital, I wish I could say that something had happened earlier, something tripped me up and put me on edge. But I can't. It was just a normal day, and everything was meant to go on in its normal routine. And then you showed up, and things were different. It’s not much but it put me on edge. You know the rest. I have no excuse, and I won't try to defend myself. I reacted badly and handled the aftermath worse.”

Will sighed, dragging his hands down his face. He wished there was a simple answer too, a simple explanation about what he had done that made Lucas think of him as a threat. That maybe he had said something or done something that had set them all off. But he knew it wouldn't be that easy.

"Just-" Will said, voice breaking. "A threat, Lucas?"

"I'm sorry," Lucas breathed. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you feel like that. I was just so focused on Max, and everything felt like it was trying to kill us, to kill her. It wasn't just you, I want you to know. I even snapped at Erica. It wasn’t half as bad as with you though.”

Will leaned back a little at that, shocked. Though Lucas and Erica had always bantered, he’d never known them to really fight.

Lucas took a deep breath, setting himself back on track. “What I want to say is that I’m sorry. I’ve wanted to apologise for a while now, but I didn’t want to be forgiven, I think. You needed me, and I abandoned you. Then I was too ashamed to approach you again, and I let it get so much worse.”

Will didn’t feel happy, or pleased with the apology. It's not as though he didn't want it. Really, Will was relieved that Lucas still wanted to be his friend.

But Lucas seemed so guilty. Lucas had clearly closed his eyes to Will the same way Will had closed his eyes to the Party. It had been a way to survive, to be able to function when there were things he couldn’t handle.

Will’s not exactly sure if he would be able to fully trust that Lucas didn’t secretly agree that Will was a threat. Will’s not sure if he would ever be able to trust Lucas how he once used to ever again, not sure he would ever rely on him the same.

"You're a kid," Will said, both to himself and Lucas. "You shouldn't have had to deal with all that. With Max, with me, with the world ending. It's not your fault, all that happened. And yes, I was upset, but I understand. And I forgive you."

Lucas was definitely teary, and looked up to stop his eyes from watering. “Can I give you a hug man?”

Will let out a breathy laugh, opening his arms for Lucas to step into. “Yeah man, of course.”

-

Allison was sprawled on Will's bed, reading a magazine El had lent her while Will struggled with a pencil on the floor. After a while she sighed, letting the magazine drop and instead turning to watch as Will drew. He was frowning, carefully sketching the outline with forceful concentration.

“Are you happy now?” Allison asked.

Will looked away from his page, blinking up at Allison with confusion. “What?”

“You said you wanted your old friends back. Are you happy?”

Will reflected that he had been doing well. Things had blown over with Lucas, and everyone had started to mesh together in what started to feel like a big family. Will could feel the difference it made in his life. It felt a bit like it used to, and a bit like never before.

But Mike flashed in Will’s mind, stubborn but as undeniable as always. Will looked back down.

“Almost.”

“Almost?” Allison prompted, sitting up on her elbows.

"Yeah," Will said, pressing the lead against the paper though making no effort to draw. "Almost. I've just gotten one more."

“Who?” she asked eagerly.

Will wouldn’t look at her, feeling almost like he was telling an embarrassing secret as the name slipped out. “Mike Wheeler.”

Allison groaned, collapsing back onto the bed dramatically. The interaction she and Mike had during Will's migraine had left a sour taste in her mouth regarding the boy. "Mike Wheeler? The dick from school?"

“That’s the one.”

“You really want him to be your friend?”

“Yep,” Will popped the ‘p’.

“But he’s an asshole!” Allison tried, looking at Will imploringly.

Will laughed a little, though he shrivelled up inside a little too. The tone shifted, the room becoming a bit sadder, a bit more vulnerable. “Yeah, he is. But he wasn’t always. He didn’t used to be.”

Allison looked down at Will with narrowed eyes, almost scrutinising him as Will nervously flicked his eyes from her and the rest of the room. He felt unreasonably exposed.

“He really means that much to you?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” Will said without hesitation. “You have no idea.”

-

Will finally got up the nerve to talk to Mike on a Wednesday. Why a Wednesday, Will didn't know. But after the last period, Will didn't start heading home or to hang out with his friends or the Party like he usually might of. Instead, he made his way over the Wheeler residence.

Mike's bike was already in the dumped in the driveway by the time Will rode over on his own rusted one. He was pleased to be let in immediately by Mrs. Wheeler with no questions beyond a warm, "How are you?".

Outside of Mike's bedroom door, Will took a second to prepare himself. The adrenaline of confronting Mike had worn off somewhat in the ride over, and he found the earlier confidence starting to wane.

Regardless, Will steeled himself, and knocked on Mike's door determinedly. 

“Mom, I said I’d do it later!” Mike’s voice groaned from within the room. Will stood silently, unsure how to answer that. He heard Mike huff with annoyance, lumbering angrily to yank open the door. “I said-”

Will smiled tightly as Mike cut off upon seeing it wasn’t his mom at the door. “Hi.”

Mike's face fell from shock into purposeful disinterest in a heartbeat. He glared at Will, leaning against his doorframe to block the view of his room, as though Will was desperately trying to get inside. Will clenched his jaw.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Will said evenly.

“Why?”

“Because we need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” Mike said powerfully. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring down at Will. “How did you even get in here?”

“Your mom let me in.”

“Of course she did,” Mike muttered. He tipped his head back despondently, muttering more to himself than Will. “She always liked you more than me.”

Will looked Mike up and down judgementally. “Can’t imagine why.”

Mike glared, but Will refused to back down. Mike had been giving Will this shit for nearly a year at this point, and he was through with it. He squared his shoulders, and folded his arms the same as Mike. “Look, do you really want to do this in the hallway? Let me in.”

For a moment, Will thought Mike wouldn’t. That he would just slip back inside and shut the door in Will’s face. But to his surprise, after a tense silence, Mike opened the door, and stepped aside.

Will let out a breath, attempting not to look like he was trying to take in the room around him. It had changed with Mike, the walls filled with bands and movie posters, devoid of the toys that used to litter it. He felt sad, faced with the difference. 

When he turned around, Mike still stood by the now-shut door, watching Will almost distrustfully. "So, what's this about?"

“Sundays,” Will breathed. “I’m sure you are aware that the rest of the Party all come to mine in the afternoons. I wanted to invite you.”

“That’s it? That’s all you came here to say? Well, let's cut this short," Mike said, pulling his door open again and using his one arm to gesture out with a flourish. "No. Now leave.”

Will stubbornly refused, lifting an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because I said so. Leave.”

“Not good enough, Mike,” said Will darkly.

“Well too bad,” Mike said just as fiercely, countering Will’s coldness with his own burning flame. He swung the door shut with a bang, approaching Will. “You don’t get to know.”

“Only I don’t get to know?” Will asked with a plastic smile. “Or anyone?”

Mike gave his own smile, nose scrunched up unattractively and lips curved with cruelty. “Just you.”

“Great!” Will said with mock enthusiasm. He smoothly stole around Mike so Will’s back was now to the door. “I’ll just send El over to ask you then.”

Mike stiffened, and Will tapped his cheek as if some thought had just come to him. 

“Oh wait!” Will tsked. “How could I forget. She broke up with you. Why was that again? Something about you pushing her away, never wanting to talk...”

“Will,” Mike said warningly.

“Well, that’s okay,” Will continued on with his artificial act. “I’ll just send over Dustin. Oh, but again? When was the last time you talked to him?”

“Shut the fuck up Will,” Mike burst, moving to get in Will’s face. He didn’t flinch, and held his ground.

“What Mike? You can't face reality? You don’t want to admit that you pushed everyone you love away?”

“That’s not what happened,” Mike defended.

“Then what the hell did?” Will yelled, throwing his arms out. “Talk to me! Talk to anyone! No one knows what to do.”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone! Just leave me alone.”

"We have left you alone, Mike! For nearly a full fucking year! And look at what happened. You pushed me away. You pushed El away. You've started to push Dustin away. Who's next? Lucas?"

“It doesn’t fucking matter!”

“What will matter is by the time you finally pull your head out of your own arse, you’ll look around to find there’s no one left to even apologise to for putting it up there in the first place!”

Mike was glaring at Will. He had balled his hands into fists, but Will could see how they trembled anyway. Will sighed, letting his shoulders slump and blinking up at the ceiling sadly.

“I’m sorry,” Will said, voice a little croaky. His throat hurt from all the shouting, making it feel like the inside of his neck was lined with sandpaper. The faint taste of blood started to gather in his mouth. “I shouldn't have said all that.”

Mike didn’t say anything, but he met Will’s eyes when he looked back down.

“I just- I just want you to know that we, that I haven’t given up on you,” Will said genuinely. “I don’t want you to wake up one day and find yourself alone. You’re my friend, even if I'm not yours, and I still care for you. I just want you to be happy.”

Will was sick. He wasn’t getting better. And despite how much Mike’s actions tried to persuade him otherwise, Will knew that when he died, Mike would be a wreck. He would need all the friends he could get, and Will intended to ensure he had that.

When Mike still didn't respond, Will sighed and looked away. He made his way to the door, pausing when his hand rested against the knob. He pressed his lips together, looking up for one last ounce of courage, and turned back to Mike.

“Sundays,” Will said. “Every week. The whole Party is there, plus whoever else can make it. We watch movies, play games and usually have dinner together with Mom and Hopper. We've been trying to convince everyone to play a big game of D&D at some point too, and we could use a dungeon master. The invite is always open."

Will opened the door, and left without looking back.

-

Mike didn’t show up at the Hopper-Byers house that Sunday, nor the Sunday after. But on the third Sunday after his and Will’s spat, Mike was there. He was scowling with his arms crossed, but he was there. And after that, week after week, Mike never missed a Sunday.

-

For a bit, life was great.

The town was quickly approaching one one-year anniversary since the end of the disaster, since the final battle. Some of the old volunteers had suggested throwing a sort of town-wide party to celebrate how far Hawkins had come, and the idea had quickly been formalised and set into action.

The current plan was to have a sort of event set up in the old school gym they had used as the shelter in the beginning, a sort of closed-circle moment. Will had thought the idea sounded great, but he quickly noticed the similarities between the event and Snowball.

But in the end it didn’t bother Will. He knew a lot of people enjoyed the Snowball, and geared himself up to help with the preparations for a second, adult version of the Snowball. Well, he tried to help with the preparations for the anniversary celebration. Will found himself watching the other volunteers setting up more than anything these days.

His arms were too weak to lift anything, his stamina too poor. And even if he tried to, usually no one would let him do anything other than sit back and relax with a cup of tea to nurse.

Everything with the Party seemed to be going well, too. They all started to hang out at school, sometimes even blending with Will’s other friends from the shelter.

Erica had just started showing up to the Sunday games one week, which no one questioned. It felt good to have everyone back together, though Mike was still his moody self. But at least he and Will were civil, which was a massive improvement in Will's books.

It all came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

Will woke up one morning, feeling oddly refreshed. He hadn’t spent the night laying awake as he often did, instead dropping straight into a dreamless sleep and not waking till after the sun rose. His head didn’t ache, his nose hadn’t bled. Will smiled when he sat up, eagerly swinging his legs off the side of the bed and standing.

Or, well, at least he tried to.

As soon as Will put weight on his legs, they buckled beneath him. He fell painfully the to floor with a loud thump, leaving him crumbled in a pile by the foot of his bed. He sat in shock for a moment, his freshly awoken brain attempting to understand what had happened. He had put his feet on the ground, had stood, then fallen?

Fearfully, Will slowly looked down at where his legs had folded beneath him. His hand was shaking as it reached out to touch them, squeezing his calf to reassure himself that his legs were there, that they were real.

Will placed his hands flat against the floor, attempting to get his legs back under him to stand. But as soon as he put any weight on them, they collapsed, just as they had before.

Will sat on the floor, trying hard not to freak out. His breaths were coming out fast in small wheezes, his chest was squeezing so tight it was hard to suck in any air at all. Sweat formed on his brow. The only thing Will would hear was his own racing, unsteady heartbeats.

The panic attack hit him hard, blurring his vision and catching him in a loop of ‘leg, his legs don’t work, he can't walk, his legs aren’t working, he can't stand up, his legs, leg’. His mouth was dry and he felt vaguely like he would vomit, if only he had enough air to stop his throat from closing up.

He remained sitting on the floor through all of it, too scared to try to stand again, terrified about what it would mean if he couldn't rise. His body was flushed hot and racked with tremors. Will couldn't look at anything other than his twisted-up legs. He pressed his lips together tightly, blinking harsh and quick.

"Oh god," Will whispered brokenly. He was hiccupping despite his efforts not to cry, taking quick gasps through his nose and pressing a hand against his mouth. Eventually the tears fell anyway, spilling down his face and over his trembling hand. They ran thick and hot, slipping down his nose to splatter onto his legs. His legs.

“Oh god,” he whispered again.

Will sat up, trying to calm himself by taking deep breaths through his mouth. It didn’t really work, if the way they kept coming out fast and unsteady was any indication. He used both of his sleeves to wipe his face, cleaning away the snot and tears and sweat.

“Okay,” he assured himself, voice nothing more than a rasp that broke on every word. “You’re okay. You’d can do this.”

Will got his arms behind him, placing them on the bed to attempt to hoist his body up slightly. He could feel his back pressing against the mattress in time with his erratic breathing as his arms shook trying to keep himself lifted.

He rearranged his legs to stand below him, and slowly, so slowly, started to put weight on them. His arms were screaming at him to hurry up, but Will couldn’t rush, focused entirely on keeping himself standing.

After all his weight had been placed, he stood frozen, hands still gripping the sheets, petrified. His legs wobbled, but held.

Will let out a shaky laugh, full of relief and horror. He raised himself up fully, taking a few steps to lean against the wall. He walked like a newborn foal, but at least he walked. He could feel his heart still beating too fast against his ribs. 

This felt like a sign. He had been getting too comfortable, too happy. This, his legs not working, it felt like reminder. He wouldn’t have long left to be happy.

He wouldn’t have long left at all.

-

“Will!”

“Hey Will!”

“Will, over here!”

Will, along with the Party with him looked over at the loud yells that filled the courtyard the second Will stepped outside of Hawkins High. He was confused more than anything to see his gaggle of children all standing together with their bikes, smiling eagerly and waving Will over. Curious, Will approached them, feeling the Party follow.

“What are you all doing here?” Will asked. “Actually, how did you get here so quickly? School only just ended. You didn’t miss any did you?”

“No,” Paul said smartly. “We finish earlier than you. And we all rode over right after.”

“Oh, okay.” Will nodded, looking amongst them. “Um, why?”

The kids all looked at each other, exchanging big smiles. Will squinted his eyes suspiciously. It was Lottie who stepped forward.

“We have a surprise for you,” she grinned.

“A surprise,” Mike interrupted. Will startled a bit, having forgotten of the Party’s presence behind him. Will turned and saw their faces mirroring his own curiosity along with some confusion. “What sort of surprise?”

“None of your business,” Felix declared hotly. “What are you doing following Will around anyway, rando?”

“I’m not a rando!” Mike yelled. He hesitated for a heartbeat, eyes flicking to Will. “I’m his friend.”

Will fought hard to keep the smile off his face. Mike had always felt things strongly. When they were kids he would walk around with his heart on his sleeve, seeing the world in black and white. Will had admired him from his own grey outlook, instead keeping his true feelings carefully tucked out of sight.

Will was glad that Mike's view of him had seemingly shifted over the past few weeks.

“Oh really,” Felix said to Mike, voice dripping with attitude. “Then how come I’ve never seen you before? I spent the whole summer with Will, and I didn’t see any of you once.”

Mike had no answer to that, nor did the rest of the Party.

Will was trying hard not to laugh. Felix had always reminded him of Mike, and now more than ever.

“Are you laughing at that little shit?” Mike gasped, betrayed. Clearly Will was failing to hide his humour.

“It’s a little funny,” Will defended. “Also, don’t call him that.”

“Anyway,” Felix stated smugly. “You wouldn’t understand the surprise anyway. You don’t know Will’s stories.”

“Stories?” El repeated in question.

“Yeah,” said Paul. “Will said they might be too scary for me, but they’re not. I’m way too brave for that. Monsters don’t scare me.”

“Bet they’d scare you though, skeleto,” Felix said under his breath to Mike.

“Hey!” Mike yelled back at him.

“Monsters,” Max nodding knowingly. “Wouldn’t know anything about them.”

Will was glaring hard at the kids, trying and failing to get them to shut up. He was very much not addressing the looks the Party was giving him.

“Interesting,” Dustin said, tapping his finger against his chin. “Would these stories happen to have… a girl with superpowers? Or maybe a handsome genius boy who saves everyone over and over?”

Will glared now at Dustin and the obvious self-endorsement.

“Hmm no,” Rachel said. “The Mage has superpowers I guess. But it’s really the Paladin who saves everyone.”

“Does not,” argues Felix. “The Zoomer did the most at the end. The Paladin was only useful when everyone was saving the Cleric.”

“Hey,” Rachel defended. "The Paladin was not useless. Plus, he is my favourite!"

"You're only saying the Paladin's your favourite 'cause he's Will's favourite, suck up."

“Oh god,” Will whispered, mortified. He couldn’t interrupt, only watching the trainwreck play out before him.

“We all saw you crying when the Rockstar died, Felix! You’re fooling nobody.”

“We all cried!”

“I liked the Bard the most,” mused Matt. “Though the Ranger was a close second. I like how-”

"I'll go with you no questions asked if you all shut up right now," Will quickly interrupted, face burning. Dustin had begun laughing into Lucas' shoulder, and Max's eyebrows were raised so high that Will could feel the judgement radiating off in waves. Mike stood uncharacteristically quiet.

“Perfect,” Felix said, moving behind Will to push him forward. Felix turned back to give a last glare at Mike. “I knew his stories would be too scary for you. You look too wimpy.”

“Felix!” Will chastised.

“Oh fuck off kid,” Mike rolled his eyes.

“Mike,” Will warned. Mike threw his hands up and turned away.

"See you at dinner!" El called as Will was steered away by the swarm of pre-teens. He waved half-heartedly as he was led into the woods.

“Okay, you gotta keep your eyes closed," Lottie reminded him once they had walked far enough for Will's knees and hips to ache, which realistically probably wasn't far at all.

“I know,” Will said, stumbling a bit because his eyes were in fact closed. “I heard you the first three times.”

"I'm so excited!" Paul bounced next to Will, doing a very poor job of holding his arm steady to guide him.

"Stop here," Matt suddenly said, throwing out a hand in front of Will's chest. Paul let go of Will's arm, leaving him standing alone in the woods, though he could hear the kids giggling and talking a few feet away.

“Guys?” Will called. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Not yet!” yelled Felix. “We are just adding the final touches!”

“Alright,” Will sighed, but kept his eyes closed. He could hear rustling not far off, and a whole lot more excited giggling.

“Okay we are ready now,” Rachel said after a few minutes. Will jumped, not realising how close she was. Rachel moved Will forward, turning him slightly before backing away.

“So I can open my eyes now?” Will asked.

“Yes!” they all yelled. Will laughed at their enthusiasm, and slowly opened his eyes.

His smile froze on his face when he realised what he was looking at. He felt emotion rise quickly to his throat, making it difficult to swallow as his eyes teared up without his consent.

It was Castle Byers. The kids had made a replica of Castle Byers. Or at least, a sort of copy. It had the wooden frame of leaning sticks, the door of fabric that fluttered in the wind, and even a flag strung up. It was bigger though. Big enough to fit them all inside.

“Do you like it?” Lottie asked, moving up beside him. “We tried to remember everything you said about it in your stories. Is it just like you imagined?”

Will nodded, still unable to speak. He had described the structure in his stories of when he hid in it, but he hadn’t realised how much detail he must have given. Will figured he likely lingered on the hideout more than he had intended, allowing himself to reminisce in the memory.

Except in the story it wasn’t Castle Byers. And yes, there above painted in yellow read ‘Castle Hawkins’.

“You guys made this?” Will finally managed, voice soft and fond.

“Yep!” Felix smiled, moving to stand in front of Castle Hawkins, pointing out features like a salesman. “We asked Peter and Kyle to help us move some of the heavy things, but we came up with it and did most of the stuff.”

“It’s wonderful,” Will croaked. He was not going to cry. He was not. “It’s exactly how I imagined it. You guys are so amazing.”

Lottie squealed, moving for a hug. Will didn’t hesitate, opening his arms for them all and squeezing them in a tight hug. They were all rambling over each other, talking excitedly about the Castle and how they made it and all the games they would play in it.

Will only hugged them tighter, smiling and nodding and laughing along with them.

And fuck it, he did cry.

-

Will was lying on the floor the next Sunday, absently playing Battleship with Steve while half-listening to the movie playing. The heat of summer had surfaced early, which shaped the afternoon into one of lazing on the couches under the ceiling fan. It felt like a tease, having to go to school while it felt like summer.

Will sighed. Only a few more weeks anyway.

“H4?” Steve asked.

“Miss,” muttered Will. He sunk further into the floor, feeling like he was melting.

“Dammit, again! That’s like the fourth time,” Steve shook his head, then turned to the Party sitting on the couch together. “Dustin, is he cheating?”

"Hey!" Will exclaimed, sitting up with indignation.

Dustin leaned over a grumbling Mike and Lucas, squinting at Will’s board to make out his battleship pieces. “Nah, Will’s not cheating. You just really suck.”

Steve groaned, staring down at his own grid while Robin laughed at him from across the room.

“Give it up, Steve,” Robin called. “Just admit you can't beat him.”

“Fuck off. I’ve got this.”

“A7?” asked Will.

“FUCK!” Steve yelled.

Trying not to laugh, Will marked A7 with ‘hit’.

“So, Will…” Max started, making Will close his eyes at the tone. This would be good. “Wanna tell us more about how the Paladin saved the day?”

Will felt himself flush a furious red, causing El to giggle quietly. He flipped Max the bird, though he knew she probably couldn't see it. It made him feel better anyway. He did not look at Mike.

“Yeah, Will,” Lucas said with shit-eating grin. “Tell us all about how we saved the world!”

“Please tell me you made me like super buff or something-”

“Shut up,” Will rolled his eyes.

“Wait, what’s going on?” Jonathan asked, looking up curiously from whatever he and Nancy were doing.

 Actually everyone looked at him curiously, beside Mike. Mike seemed to be trying to act like he wasn't interested in the conversation at all, but Will could tell from the way he sat straight with stiff shoulders that he was listening the same as everyone.

“It’s nothing-”

“Turns out Byers here had been regaling our epic adventures to the youths of Hawkins,” Dustin grinned toothily.

The others in the room all turned to look at Will, who blushed again.

“It wasn’t like that!” Will explained. “It was a highly censored version anyway. Hardly the bones of what happened to us.”

“Yeah, I don’t believe that,” Max said dubiously.

“Oh, and get this,” Dustin paused for dramatic effect. “We had codenames!”

“What!” Steve said loudly, making Will, who sat right across from him, wince. “What kind of codenames?”

“Well, ours were all from D&D. The kids didn’t talk about anyone else, so maybe you’re not in it.”

“No, everyone’s in it,” Will relented. It was too late now.

“What was my codename?” Steve asked eagerly.

Will raised an eyebrow, deadpan. “What do you think? Obviously the Babysitter.”

Steve dramatically fell away, complaining to the room. “God, I can't even be cool to some random kids.”

“Why did you tell them?” Mike said, breaking his silence. His voice was serious. Not angry at what Will had told, but clearly curious as to why he did.

Will’s eyes met Mike’s as the room stilled, considering. Will looked away first. “I don’t know really.”

“Yes you do,” Mike said, sounding sure.

“Yes, I do,” Will agreed after a moment. He hated it sometimes, how well Mike knew him. Even after all these years, it's like he hadn’t changed at all. “At first it was a way to keep them entertained. But really, I guess I just- I just wanted them to be prepared.”

“Prepared?” El asked gently.

"Yes. I just wanted to make sure that if something happened again, people would be prepared. I know it's unlikely, but you can never know for sure. If in 20 or 50 years from now something happens with the Upside Down and we are all long gone from this town, it's just nice to know that they are equipped, at least a little bit. They'll know what the flashing lights mean or about the cold. They'll know that they can win."

The room was silent for a minute. Will felt a little stupid, but refused to back down. He didn’t see how this could hurt anybody, only help.

“Damn,” Steve broke the silence in the room. “When did you get so wise, Baby Byers?”

Will laughed in relief, and the movement around him resumed.

-

The day summer break started, Will was surrounded by friends old and new as they walked together through the woods. Thankfully the trees around them leeched much of the heat out of the air, making the walk relatively cool and pleasant for such a hot day.

“Where are we going this time Will?” Chris asked from where he walked hand-in-hand with Allison.

“The quarry?” Brooke sounded hopeful.

Will saw Mike and the other Party members stiffen out of the corner of his eye at the mention of the quarry, and quickly shook his head.

“No, not today,” Will eased. “Just a nice lake will do I think. There’s one with some rocks you can jump off into the water.”

That seemed to please everyone, as Jesse whooped and cleared forward, Dustin just behind.

No one hesitated to jump in the water, each person stripping to their swimsuits and running in. Will sunk into the water till only his nose and eyes were uncovered, relishing in the refreshing coldness. 

The blended two groups were splashing around him, laughing like the kids they were. A chicken fight was quickly started, and Will watched as Mike was pushed off Chris's shoulders by Allison who was on Max's. The two girls yelled victoriously, high-fiving as Mike shook the water out of his hair like a dog.

Will smiled, a few bubbles rising from his lips as he sunk ever so slightly deeper. He wished things would just stay like this, stay easy and simple and happy. He wished that time could pause, if only for a little while.

But El jumped off of the rocks, causing an uproar when she landed and sprayed everyone. Will broke from his longing thoughts as the shower hit his face, looking up to see Lucas and Brooke immediately jumping on El who splashed them again.

Will laughed, and went to join the others.

-

Will hadn’t expected everyone to agree to come to the Hawkin’s anniversary celebration thing that he and the volunteers had been preparing for the last few weeks. He mentioned it on a whim one Sunday when everyone was gathered, offhandedly bringing it up.

Will had anticipated some indifferent “oh yeah, we’ll think about it” or “that sounds nice, have fun”. Will had not anticipated everyone jumping to say yes and clamouring with enthusiasm. He hadn't thought he had sold the event all that well, but whatever. If they wanted to spend the night dancing in the school gym, who was he to say no?

"Are you sure?" Will asked again, still slightly staggered by their reaction. "I've seen the set-up. It's literally like a Snowball for adults with alcohol. And the whole towns going to be there."

When everyone remained set in their decision, Will only shrugged. 

Just as Will had predicted, the celebration looked strikingly similar to the Snowball. They had clearly brought out some of the same decorations used, adorning the gym in silvery-blue tinsel. There weren't any tables in the room however, instead chairs lined the walls to make space for the occupants.

The festivities were well underway by the time Will and his lot began to arrive. The gym was already filled with townspeople wandering about, standing with loosely held drinks as they wandered and chattered with others in the crowd.

Will had been fiddling nervously as he waited for everyone to arrive, though it turned out Will shouldn’t have been worried about anyone in the extended Party.

His mom and Hopper had dressed up nicely, entering with tightly clasped hands and an easy smile they had earned through the years. The others arrived in a similar matter, everyone looking lovely though with a slightly more awkward air. But for the most part, they remained respectful and polite.

No, it wasn’t the Party Will had to worry about. It was the townspeople. Every person Will had met over the past year, every person he helped or volunteered he worked with, had seemingly teamed up against him.

Every single one of them referred to the extended Party as one of Will’s something. Joyce would introduce herself, only for the other person to respond, “Oh, you’re Will’s Mom!”

The same was true for El, for Mike and Steve, for all of them. They had each been reduced to "Will's sister," or "Will's friend."

Will was mortified. He thought he hadn’t mentioned his friends to the people at shelter all that much, but the innocent recognition of tonight proved him otherwise. Will quickly left the vicinity of the Party, red-faced and wishing the ground would swallow him. 

-

Mike was confused. Actually, scratch that, he was downright bewildered.

A year ago, the people of Hawkins wouldn’t have so much as looked twice at him or any other Party member. And if they did, it would never have been with a kind eye.

Yet in one year, everything had completely switched around. All due to Will Byers.

The boy in question had run off some time ago, but that didn’t stop people from approaching the Party. People who Mike swore he had never even seen before would walk right up to where they all stood huddled together, exclaiming happily that they were so glad Will’s friends all came.

That was another thing! They were all being recognised on behalf of Will. Dustin had decided to just skip ahead and start introducing himself as “Will’s friend”, rather than say his own name only for people to gasp and call him Will’s friend anyway. Dustin gave Mike a wide, satisfied smile when the trick earned him a slightly larger serving of the provided food, so Mike relented that maybe Dustin was onto something.

But see, Mike would have said that out of everyone, Will had the worst relationship with the town. Sure, Mike had been bullied at school alongside him, but even the adults always seemed to have some innate dislike for Will. The treatment had only grown worse both inside and out of school after everything with the Upside Down started, and Mike was certain that given the chance, Will would have abandoned the town and everyone in it.

But somehow it seemed that out of everyone, Will was the most well-adjusted of them all. 

-

Eventually, Will danced. He hadn’t wanted to, insisted he wouldn’t, but as the night wore on so did Will’s resolve, and he was finally dragged in. 

It was inevitable that the amiable chatting dissolved into dancing as darkness continued to fall and alcohol continued to pour. Will hid a small smile when he saw Lucas steal a cup off a table at some point, Jonathan and his lot also swiping their fair share of liquor.

Will didn’t reach for a cup himself. He was satisfied where he sat on the outskirts, watching as the town got steadily drunker and drunker. And drunk people do as drunk people do, and drunk people love to dance.

His mom and Hopper were somewhere towards the middle, dancing together the way only couples do. Lucas was dancing with Max, each holding the other the same way they had at the real Snowball, swaying to a beat that didn’t at all match the music playing. They danced that way anyway, Max clumsy in her near blindness, though Lucas remained gentle, guiding her through the steps. 

El, Dustin and Mike were dancing together not far off Max and Lucas, each of the boys taking turns twirling a laughing El around. It was El who finally dragged Will up from where he was half-hiding in the shadows, pulling him to dance with the others. It took a moment for Will to let his shoulders loosen and enjoy the moment, but he soon found himself laughing as he and El spun around.

He could only keep up for a little while, breathing heavily and trying to shake off the black spots blurring his vision. He let his hand slip from El's, grinning when she glared at him.

“I’m just getting a drink,” he promised.

“You’ll come back?” El asked.

“In a bit, yeah.”

Will turned away, though he only made it a few feet into the crowd before Allison appeared at his side, grasping his arm to balance his uneven steps. She frowned, lips pursing.

“You shouldn't be dancing,” she warned, glaring at the people bumping into Will.

“It’s a party,” Will said, leaning in close so Allison could hear him over the music. “You’re meant to dance.”

Will followed Allison’s gaze when she looked over his shoulder, turning to see Chris and Brooke waving and gesturing them over to dance. She didn’t hold their eye, instead turning her attention back to Will, whose swaying had nothing to do with the beat of the song.

“I’ll be fine,” Will said, gently placing his hand over Allison’s to attempt to reassure her. “I’m just going to go sit down for a bit.”

“I’ll come with you,” she said, already turning and wiggling her way off the dance floor. Will made to grip her arm, pulling her back with an exasperated laugh, shaking his head.

“No, you stay. Dance with Chris. Have fun.” Will slipped his hand down to squeeze hers, letting his sincerity slip into his words. “You know I’ll be fine.”

After a few tense moments, Allison nodded, squeezing his hand back. They moved past each other, Allison to Chris, and Will through the crowd. A few people reached out as he walked past, giving him kind looks while squeezing his shoulder or simply brushing their hands against his back.

He could feel their concern, and Will found he wasn't surprised at all. He hadn't actively been trying to hide his illness, and it seemed only natural that others had caught on. Once, Will would have hated the pity in their eyes, cursed himself at the weakness they had all seen. Now, Will was just tired.

He let out a huff when he finally sunk down into one of the chairs now scattered around the room. He chose one half secluded, but still with a good view of everyone dancing. Will nodded his head lazily to the song blaring through the speaker.

Will had spent the last six years fighting, the last four of them fighting alone. He couldn't say if it was worth it, to go through everything to end up here, but there were worse places to be. Will knew that all too well.

Here, he was safe. They had won the battle and they had won the war. Here was peaceful, here Will was happy and loved.

The decorations above him became hazy, glistening like stars or snow in the sunlight. Will could hear the music still, the sweet tones soothing him as his consciousness begun to slip. He could hear the laughter and singing of his friends and family and those he had come to care for.

What happened in the past didn’t matter anymore. He had let it control his life too long, let it dictate his actions and decide his emotions. All that should matter and all that would matter, Will swore, was the present. All that mattered was what was to come.

Will didn’t notice when blood began to trail down from his nose, nor when his eyes fluttered shut. And when he fell, when he hit the ground, Will didn’t feel a thing.

-

Will woke up in the hospital.

The room was blindingly white, making him blink a half-dozen times when he finally managed to peel his eyes open. The roof was bland and unassuming, but he still gazed up at it, dazed and disorientated.

A beeping to his right caught his attention, so he let his head drop sideways to get a better view. A few machines surrounded the bed he was on, not dissimilar to the ones that had been surrounding Max when she was comatose.

Will's eyes slid to the only two other people in the room. He frowned at them, brain still sluggish and not quite working right. His mom and Hopper were sitting in two uncomfortable-looking chairs, facing the bed Will found himself lying on. They were still in the clothes they had worn to the anniversary celebration, though Will suspected some time had passed since then.

Hopper was watching Joyce, and Joyce was staring blankly into the air in front of her. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, like someone had died right in front of her. She sat hunched over, a hand pressing firmly against her mouth. She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just sat staring at nothing. She looked absolutely terrified.

“Mom,” Will tried to say, prying his dry lips apart painfully. It didn’t come out quite right, hardly more of a breath of air rather than an actual word.

Though it didn’t break Joyce out of her trance, it was enough to catch Hopper’s attention, who looked over at Will. There seemed to be a weight on his shoulders, a soft sadness about him that Will hadn’t seen on him since he had first met the man.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper smiled, speaking in hushed tones as if Joyce was sleeping, not gazing blindly at the floor. “How you feeling?”

Will tried swallowing but felt as if sandpaper was scratching up his throat. Hopper stood to pass him some water, glancing at Joyce who didn’t react to the movement. Will drank the water gratefully.

“Thank you,” he said politely and shifted in the bed to sit up a little. “What happened?”

Hopper shifted when he sat back down. He had bags under his eyes that matched Joyce’s. “You passed out, at the party. You wouldn’t wake up, so we called an ambulance and been here ever since.”

“Oh,” said Will, the memories coming back with Hopper’s retelling. “How long has it been?”

Hopper gruffly checked his watch, letting out a sigh entirely of tiredness. “Nearly three in the morning. Jonathan and El were here too, but we sent them home to get some sleep.”

“And-” Will started, but stopping himself before his voice cracked. “What’s with Mom?”

At Will saying her name, Joyce tipped her head back, eyes meeting her son’s. She looked so, so scared. More frightened than Will had ever seen her in his life. He was caught in her gaze, feeling frozen with the fear that wasn’t his.

Hopper reached out to rub her back soothingly, though Joyce only didn’t look away. Will was beginning to think that was wasn’t really looking at him, that she was seeing some already gone version of him. In her eyes, he was already dead.

“She’s just- just processing,” Hopper said, voice soaked with concern. “She’ll be alright in a bit I think. Just needs some time to wrap her head around it all.”

“Around what?” Will asked, though he already had a good idea of what his mother had learnt that had reduced her to this shell-shocked human.

Hopper stared at Will before sighed again, his whole body shuttering with it. He rubbed a hand over his face, resignedly. “You’re sick, kid. You’re really sick.”

Joyce’s breathing hitched, but Will didn’t say anything, which to Hopper spoke volumes.

“I’ll go grab a doctor. Tell them you’re awake,” said Hopper quietly, before standing and leaving the room.

Will was left sitting in a room alone, trapped in his mother’s gaze. He met her eye in the silence, and was startled when she began to cry.

“Will, baby,” she said from behind her hand, voice cracking. Her face crumpled as tears poured out, though her sobs remained quiet, quiet like Will’s. She still looked afraid, but her eyes weren’t empty with it. She was looking at Will as if to take him in, as if to remember every moment he was in front of her.

To Will’s relief Hopper returned quickly, a doctor in tow. Will sat still as the doctor asked him question after question, ‘what are your symptoms?’, ‘when did you first start noticing the changes?’, ‘how long have you been experiencing this?’.

Will answered each quietly, though with honesty that had his mom releasing a punched-out sound. He didn’t look over at her, couldn’t look over at her, but knew that Hopper had his arms around Joyce, squeezing her in reassurance.

"Well," the doctor said to the room at large. He leaned back in his chair, making small marks on the sheet he held attached to a clipboard. "We can't say for sure what's happening. We will have to do some more tests later to determine what's really going on, once Will here has regained some strength. Right now, you just need to rest."

“Thank you,” Will said softly.

"Of course," the doctor said, standing and straightening out his scrubs. "I won't lie and say this will be easy, Will. It's probably going to be one of the hardest things you'll ever do. However I want you to know that this isn't the end. As long as you don’t give up, as long as you keep on fighting, you’ve got a chance. You can win.”

Will nodded, not trusting himself to speak. The doctor left, and the room once again fell into tense silence. A few heartbeats passed, and Will knew because he can feel them pounding against his chest.

“Can we go home?” asked Will timidly. Both Hopper and Joyce look up at his words, disbelief etched across their faces.

“Did you not hear the doctor?” Joyce said, voice somewhat strained. “We need to stay here, where people can look after you.”

“He said they can’t do anything more tonight anyways,” Will almost begged. “And we’ll come back tomorrow, or later today I guess. I promise.”

His mom said nothing, instead looking to Hopper for advice. Hopper shrugged one shoulder, slipping his hand into hers.

“Please, Mom,” said Will. “I’m tired. I just want to sleep in my bed.”

She released a shuttering breath, but nodded in the end. Will smiled, and Joyce's eyes teared up again before she had to look away.

Will knew she was still processing all that she had learnt in the last few hours, that right now she could do nothing more than go from moment to moment. Later, once everything became more real, that things would change. She would talk to him, she would cry and yell and scream and sob.

Later, they’ll talk. But for now, they leave.

-

Will closed the door of his bedroom behind him, finally alone. He leaned back onto the wood, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. God, he was tired.

“Will.”

He startled badly, shoving himself harshly backwards into his door. His eyes shot open, quickly narrowing in on Mike who sat on Will’s bed, looking at him. Will took a few deep breaths before responding, trying to calm his racing heartbeat at the surprise.

"Mike?" Will whisper-yelled. "It's like four in the morning! What the fuck are you doing in my room!"

“I was worried,” Mike said with surprising ease.

“So you climbed through my fucking window?”

“The door was locked,” Mike responded defensively.

“How long have you been sitting there?” Will asked, to which Mike just shrugged. He looked at him incredulously. “You broke into my house and now you’ve just been sitting on my bed. For hours, alone, in the dark.”

“Yeah, that just about sums it up I guess.”

They continued to stare at each other in the dim light. Will watched Mike, waiting for his signature blow up, for his impatience to rise up and lead the conversation. But Mike just continued to stare at Will. No, not stare, study.

He took in Will, the bags under his eyes, the paleness of his skin, the weight he had dropped, the muscle he had lost. All the obvious, glaring signs that something was wrong. Signs Mike had never once thought to look for. Thought to notice.

Will quickly felt uncomfortable under the inspection, shuffling from foot to foot. He was aware that most if not all of his family could be listening to the exchange with little effort given how thin the walls were. He didn’t want to do this with an audience, so quickly tried to shift Mike out of his room.

“Well,” Will began, voice still no more than a raised whisper. “As you can see, I’m fine. You can leave now.”

“Fine?” Mike said, voice loud and uncaring Will’s dilemma. Mike stood up from Will’s bed, finally showing all that emotion Will had been expecting. “Your nose started to bleed and you passed out, Will! No one could wake you up and we had to take you to the hospital! That doesn't sound 'fine' to me."

Will rolled his eyes. “They were being dramatic. I just wasn’t feeling well. But I’m alright now.”

“Friends don’t lie,” Mike said with intense seriousness. “Don’t lie to me Will.”

“Then don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Will snapped with surprising heat, abandoning his attempt to keep quiet.

Mike only looked at Will, shock and something else on his face. Sadness, pity, devastation? Will couldn’t tell.

“So you’re sick then?” Mike breathed. “You’re really sick.”

Will answered, his expression blank. “Yes.”

Mike swayed in disbelief, lifting a hand to grip at his hair. Will took half a step forward, as though to catch him, but Mike only collapsed backwards to sit on the bed again. He hung his head down, letting the room drop into an uncomfortable silence.

Will shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of how to act. He sensed it wasn't his place to break the quiet, and felt it wrong to move around when the room was so thick with tension.

Eventually, when Will's legs began to ache, Mike lifted his face with red eyes. His voice was scratchy, cracking when he spoke.

“How long?” Mike asked.

"How long what?" Will responded, playing dumb. The tightening of Mike's face and press of his lips told Will that he was not entertained but this approach.

“How long have you been sick, Will? How long have you been dying?”

Will chewed his lip, breaking the stare and looking to the ground before answering quietly. “A year. Probably longer though, it took me a while to notice.”

“A year!” Mike was up from the bed again, yelling and taking long steps towards Will. Will flinched at the volume, looking quickly to the wall separating his and Joyce’s bedrooms.

“Mike, be quiet!” Will hissed. “The walls are thin here-”

“Fuck the walls!” Mike yelled, still advancing on Will. “You’ve known for a year and you didn’t tell anyone! Why didn’t you tell anyone Will?”

Will's expression hardened at that. He took a step forward into the last gap of space between himself and Mike, pressing his pointer finger into the centre of Mike's chest.

“And who would I have told Mike?” Will questioned, voice just as loud and mocking. He clearly picked up on what Will was talking about with the way his face fell. How he and the rest of the Party had cut Will out. “Who could I have told?”

“Anyone!” Mike all but screamed anyway. If the rest of the house hadn’t been awake and listening before, they certainly were now. “Your family!”

“Oh, my family,” Will nodded sarcastically. Fuck it, he didn’t care if everyone could hear. “Did you mean my traumatised sister, who would barely understand what was going on and had finally gotten the happy ending she so damn deserved? Or my brother, who stopped giving a fuck about me months ago?”

Mike took a small step back, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Will moved forward with him, kept that finger pressing him back.

"Or, no, maybe you meant my mother. Expect, oh, that's right, she can't get out of bed in the morning. But I guess that since I already ruined her life, that since I could already hear her crying and screaming every. Single. Night. That what's one more thing to push onto her? Cause you know what really helps? Do you know how to really speed up your recovery from all the shit your son put you through? Watching that same son, the one you sacrificed everything to save, watch him slowly fucking die on you anyway.”

Mike swallowed, his hands shaking at his side. Will stared him down before finally withdrawing, giving them each a few feet from the other to take a deep breath.

"…what about Hopper?" Mike asked. Will looked at him incredulously. How could he still be on about this? "You could have told Hopper."

Will let the statement hang heavy, before responding in a tone far calmer and accusing than before. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

“Did you know Hopper had a child?” Will started. Mike gave Will a confused look, bewildered by both the change in tone and topic. “A daughter. She would have been our age. But she got sick.”

Mike looked uncomfortably away, but Will continued. He suddenly felt so tired, so exhausted. He just wanted to rest.

“Hopper had to watch her waste away in a hospital room. And you wanted me to do the same to him? Make him go through it all over again?”

Mike didn't respond. Will just sighed, thinking the conversation was finally done and moving around to get ready for bed. He had just pulled out a fresh set of pyjamas when Mike finally responded.

“Yes,” said Mike.

“What?”

“Yes,” Mike repeated, voice even and strong. “You should have gone to Hopper despite his daughter. You should have gone to El despite her happiness. You should have told Jonathan even if you had to scream it at him. You should have told your mom even if it broke her.”

Will now was the one who resembled a fish, horrified. “How could you say that?”

“Because this isn’t about fucking them!” Mike burst. “It’s about you. It’s always and never about you. Stop thinking about how everyone else is fucking feeling when you’re the one who’s sick!”

Will blinked quickly, not managing a response before Mike continued.

“You always put everyone else first, even when it is literally killing you! Just please, Will, be a little selfish.”

Will looked down, toying with the fabric of the pyjamas. Despite how at ease they had become with each other, despite how clearly Mike cared for him, Will still didn’t know what caused him to abandon him all those months ago. It was hard to trust his words without knowing, so Will asked, though his voice was weak, like an upset child. “Why did you do it, Mike?”

Mike didn’t have to ask what Will meant. He only pressed his lips together remorsefully.

"Because I was stupid," Mike said, voice lacking all the anger that had defined it moments ago. Now his voice was quiet, soft, regretful. "I thought that you, that all of you, would be better off without me. I just always felt so angry, no matter what I did. I know it's unreasonable, I know it is, but I always feel like everyone I love gets hurt. And I didn't want to hurt anyone else anymore. I didn't want to hurt you."

It's shockingly straightforward, such a simple explanation of what Will's whole life had been for the past year. He let out a weak laugh. "That backfired a bit."

“Yeah,” Mike smiled, full of pain. “Yeah, it really did.”

Will’s fingers brushed over the pyjamas he still held. Slowly, he reached for a second pair.

“What’s done is done,” Will said, turning back around and holding out the extra set of clothes out like a peace offering. “It’s too late now to change anything, and I’m too tired to argue more.”

Mike looked down at the clothes still hanging in the air, eyebrows furrowing. Will cut him off before could speak.

“Please, Mike,” Will whispered. “I’m so tired.”

Mike sighed, accepting the sleepwear. When Will climbed into bed not ten minutes later, Mike was there too, clad in pyjamas slightly too short around the ankles and wrists, but he was there all the same.

When Will finally drifted off to sleep, he felt Mike slip his hand into Will’s own, clasping it tightly like it was his lifeboat in a storm of his own.

-

Will woke up late. The sun was glaring into his room, shining through the blinds Will had forgotten to close the night before. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, squinting at the brightness.

When his eyes focused, his gaze caught on Mike. The boy was still dead asleep beside him, which Will supposed was fair seeing how late Mike had waited for Will to return from the hospital. Mike’s hand was still wrapped around Will’s, looser than it had been originally, but still holding on.

Will blinked at their linked hands, listening to the soft sounds of breathing. The sun was illuminating small pieces of dust floating in the room, golden and warm and so starkly different to how the world had looked only a year ago. It felt as if time had paused, like everything outside the room was nothing more than a bad dream.

Slowly, carefully, Will pulled his hand from Mike’s. He brought it up to touch his face just under his nose, where he could feel the dried blood against his skin. He grimaced at the itchy feeling, but didn’t immediately attempt to clean himself up and change the stained pillowcase like he usually would have. He didn’t have anything to hide anymore, he supposed.

He let himself enjoy the calm for a moment longer, before gently extracting himself from the bed, careful not to wake Mike. He left the room to its peaceful existence, shutting the door quietly to stand alone in the hallway.

He used his sleeve to roughly rub at the blood as he walked towards the bathroom, wincing when it tugged painfully at his skin. By the time he had cleaned himself up and washed the last traces of the nosebleed away, he could hear commotion sounding deeper in the house.

Will frowned, moving towards the raised voices. He paused when he reached the living room, surprised to find it packed with people. Hopper stood in the middle with Joyce hovering slightly behind. Dustin was in Hopper’s face, though Steve and Robin were attempting to pull him away while Max, Lucas and El watched on with concern. Jonathan looked upset, glaring at Hopper with distrust while Nancy squeezed his hand.

Everyone seemed to be yelling, their voices blending so Will couldn't make out what they were all so upset about. Hopper seemed to be at the centre of it all, though the man was more stoic than angry. Dustin was the loudest, enraged and fighting Steve and Robin's attempts to calm him.

Will sidled up to El, who was seemingly the quietest where she stood off to the side. He nudged El’s shoulder, gesturing to the mayhem before them.

“What going on?” Will asked.

El just looked at him for a second, freezing.

“El?” he said in concern. “Is everything alright?”

El sprung into action, leaping at Will and forcing him to stumble back at the force of her hug. “Will! You’re awake!”

At her loud exclamation the fighting in the room eased, everyone turning to look at him and El. Will chuckled nervously as they all watched him with that same wide-eyed look.

“Uh, yeah,” Will said. He glanced up at the clock. “It’s not that late.”

El pulled back, opening her mouth to say something, but Dustin beat her to it, shrugging off Robin and Steve to reach Will. He gripped Will’s arms just below his shoulder, a slightly crazy look in his eyes.

"Guy's, it's Will!" Dustin said, still nearly yelling. He twisted around, showing off a very confused Will to the rest of the onlookers. "Will's here!"

“Yeah, I am,” Will said uncertainly. “Why is everyone shouting? Is everything okay? You look a little…”

“So you’re alright?” Jonathan asked, taking a step forward, his hand slipping out of Nancy’s.

“Yeah?” God Will was confused. Why was no one answering his questions? He had just woken up, and now was being manhandled around by Dustin while the rest of the room watched him as if seeing a ghost. “What’s going on?”

“We were worried about you after last night,” Lucas said kindly. “Hopper called us all over a bit ago.”

“Hopper said you were sick,” Dustin cut in with that same frantic tone.

Will looked at Hopper, before letting his eyes slide around to the others in the rest of the room. His mom was still next to Hopper, but she met Will’s eyes instantly. She looked better than yesterday, less scared, more determined.

“Oh,” Will finally said. “Yeah. I am.”

The room went silent again, and Dustin’s hands clutched Will’s arms tighter. He winced a little, knowing that would bruise spectacularly soon.

“But-” Dustin spluttered, staring directly into Will’s eyes.

“Dustin…” Hopper said warningly.

“But he,” Dustin tried again, ignoring Hopper. “He made it sound like you were dying or something. It's just ridiculous, right?"

Will watched Dustin nervously laugh, but didn’t trusting himself to answer. Will looked to Hopper, seeing the same resignation and pity he knew was reflected in his own expression. At Will’s silence, Dustin released him, stumbling a few steps back till Steve held out a steadying arm.

The room was tense, and Will swallowed nervously. No one said anything till Mike stumbled in, hair a mess and clothes bunched and skewed. He had clearly just woken up, and squinted around the full room.

“What’s going on?” he asked, sounding tired. “Why is everyone so loud?”

Will didn’t let anyone answer, instead turning to address Hopper. “Why did you bring everyone here?”

Hopper sighed gruffly, raising a hand to squeeze the bridge of his nose. “Last night, your nose was bleeding, and now you’re sick. We got to talk about the possibility that there is something supernatural happening here.”

“And your pillow this morning,” Mike said. “There was blood on your pillow when I woke up.”

“Yeah,” Will cringed. “That happens sometimes.”

“You think this is Vecna?” El asked.

Max quickly turned to face about where Will was standing, her hands extended anxiously. “Have you had any visions, or like nightmare? Have you heard the clock?”

“No,” Will quickly relieved. “No, nothing like that.”

“Then what like?” she said insistently.

"Like, little things at first, you know. I didn't even notice it, just aches and pains and whatnot. The big things like the nosebleeds didn't come till later."

“At first?” Jonathan said, voice hard. “What do you mean at first? Will, how long has this been going on!”

Will looked nervously to his side, eyes catching on Mike. The other boy crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows in disappointment. No help there. Will glared, then sighed.

“…a year or so. Since the battle, really.”

Lucas’s jaw dropped, and the room was painfully silent. Will nervously rubbed between his neck and shoulder, feeling hot. Joyce turned away slightly, pressing her hand over her heart.

“But again,” Will rambled anxiously. “At first, I hardly noticed it. I just thought I was just, I don’t know, healing from the battle. I figured everything over the past few years was catching up now that we could relax. It took me ages to admit that I was sick.”

“But you knew,” Max said. “You knew that you were sick, and you knew it started after the fight. You didn’t think that it had something to do with it? That it could have been Vecna?”

“No, no,” Will said hurriedly. “I did think about it. But, it just didn’t seem likely, I guess.”

“Why the hell not?” Dustin questioned.

“I mean, why me? I watched you guys, watched El mainly since she was the closest too this stuff, and no one else seemed off at all. So why just attack one person, and why so slow? It didn’t make sense. And either way, we all saw Vecna die.”

No one had anything else to say to that, or at least couldn't think of anything to say at the moment. Will carried on.

“But," Will said, nervously gesturing with his hands as he talked. "I thought that it still could have been something to do with the Upside Down. We know I had some kind connection to it. And now that it's dead, whatever part of it I had in me could be dead also, and killing me with it.”

“So,” El said after a beat, leaning forward. “If we brought the Upside Down back, you’d be better?”

Will laughed nervously, though it choked off when no one else joined in and he realised she was not, in fact, joking. He looked around the room, only receiving considering looks rather than the horrified one he was experiencing.

“No! No way are we bringing it back after all the shit we went through to kill it. Not to mention, we don’t even know if that’s the actual problem. We have to consider that maybe, this has nothing to do with the Upside Down or Vecna. I could just be sick. Maybe, this was always going to happen.”

No one seemed to like that answer, but Will didn’t have a better one for them. Steve exhaled suddenly, the gesture heavy.

“What I don’t get,” Steve said. “Is why you didn’t just tell us?”

Will pursed his lips, shuffling his feet.

“I had reasons,” he said quietly. “I had a lot of reasons, actually.”

Will’s family all looked down at his words, confirming that they had heard him screaming some of said reasons at Mike last night. Hopper’s face tightened regretfully, and Jonathan looked devastated. His mom blinked tears away, setting her face with resolve.

The others in the room, the ones who had forgotten or ignored him over the past year, also seemed to be coming to the realisation that Will hadn’t had anyone to go to at all, really. This had been happening for a full year, and none of them had noticed. None of them had been there to notice.

Will didn’t want their shame or regret. He had moved past it, had forgiven them from the blame a long time ago. They made a mistake, and Will wouldn’t hold it to them.

And, for the most part, a lot of Will's decision to keep quiet had been about him, not them. He was tired, he had been struggling for years. Everyone leaving him behind was more of the final piece, rather than the full puzzle.

“I guess I just didn’t really see a point to it,” Will whispered, careful not to look at anyone in particular. “At first, I was going to tell people. I always planned to tell you, Mom.”

Joyce looked up at that, trying to smile but failing quickly.

“But then I just- I knew what was coming, and I didn’t see a reason to concern everyone before we needed to be concerned. And I got by fine. I met some really wonderful people down at the shelter. I wasn’t alone. I was never alone.”

“Did you-” Lucas started, swallowing thickly. “Did you think we wouldn’t help you?”

“No,” Will assured quickly, stepping forward with his hand out placatingly. “The opposite, really. I knew that you cared too much. I never doubted that no matter how, um, strained things were, you'd help, if only I asked. If only I wanted it."

“God, Will,” Dustin said, dragging his hands down his face. The others seemed to echo his sentiment, shaking their heads sadly or covering their mouths with shaking hands. Will grimaced.

Mike stepped forward, ignoring the rest of the room to look only at Will. So different from a year ago, but so welcome.

“You know we’re going to fight this,” Mike said, calmly and confidently.

Will looked back, his mouth curving into a grin. For the first time in a long time, Will felt hopeful.

“Of course.”