Chapter Text
The wind was strong, whistling through the sick, bare trees. The skeletal forest, buried under a layer of ashes falling from the gray, cloudy sky, groaned in pain. Over the freezing silence of this upside-down world, a child’s voice hummed a familiar tune.
The kid walked slowly, his back hunched like he was trying to make as little noise as possible. His hair, once cut in a perfect bowl cut, was now tangled and soaked with sweat. His clothes were wet and dirty, the bottom of his pants stained with mud. His figure moved cautiously, and he looked exhausted.
And yet, he hummed.
“Should I stay or should I go...”
His voice wavered for a moment, like he forgot the words.
“If you say that you are mine...”
Suddenly, a noise. A branch snapping. Very close.
The boy stopped, frozen with fear. Silence slammed back in, heavier than before. The child’s back straightened, tense.
“I’ll be here ‘til the end of time...”
A whisper, full of fear.
Slowly, he turned his head over his shoulder, and his eyes appeared—green and full of terror.
And Will woke up.
――――――――――――――――
He jerked upright on the basement bed, panting and drenched in sweat.
The concrete ceiling and pillars immediately seemed scary, too much like the gray sky and trees from his dream. The Wheeler’s basement smelled musty and dusty—a sign of constant neglect. Cleaning and airing out the basement wasn’t a priority. The little game table was piled with plans, books, and pencils. The wooden shelves on the wall had been cleared of books and now held clothes of all kinds. Almost none of those plaid shirts he used to love wearing remained.
Will took a few seconds to come back to himself. His t-shirt and pajama pants stuck to his sweaty back, and he felt an urgent need to take them off. Too hot. But instead of stripping down, he grabbed the sweatshirt lying in the corner of the bed and quickly pulled it on. He hated this growing craving for cold.
He ran a hand through his sticky hair, then wiped it on the comforter. Another nightmare. The same one for weeks now. The only somewhat clear memory he had from his time in the parallel dimension. Why were these remnants only coming back now? Probably because his disappearance anniversary was coming up. Or maybe not. In the end, he didn’t know. Just that it was a bad sign.
He threw back the pale yellow comforter and climbed out of bed with difficulty. Heading to the desk at the far end of the room, he grabbed his Walkman—his 16th birthday gift, a nice day compared to the nonexistent one in ’86. The new mixtape crackled a little as he slipped it into the Walkman. There was no label, nothing but a simple “For Will” written in black marker on the gray plastic. But he remembered exactly the day Mike gave it to him—September 8. “I only put cool songs on it. I think you’re gonna love it.” And he did love it, turning it over and over in his hands, listening so many times he knew the track order better than his favorite science classes. Not just because it was cool. Because it was from Mike.
He put on the foam headphones and pressed PLAY with his thumb.
“Now the king told the boogie men...”
The Clash songs always held a special place in his heart. Mike knew that better than anyone. There were a few on the mixtape, and Will had lit up the second he heard them. Unconsciously, he thought back to his dream that was more nightmare than dream, really. He knew “Should I Stay or Should I Go” had been with him during his disappearance. But now, when he heard it, blurry, chaotic flashes attacked him. He’d have a thousand times preferred to remember fully instead of these tiny, anxious fragments.
He dropped into the desk chair and opened his journal to the last entry. The boy started writing words on the blank lines. His inner voice spoke calmly and almost detached as the ink slid across the paper.
“𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝟓𝟖𝟒 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐟𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝟐𝟐𝟒 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝟑𝟑𝟔 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐨-𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭-𝐬𝐨-𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨-𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐤𝐞. 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐧’𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.”
Will felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and recognized Jonathan, despite his tired zombie-like face. His hair was shorter than last year, but still a mess. The last time Will had teased him about his haircut out loud, he got mocked for his own old bowl cut. Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Jonathan wore blue jeans and a matching jacket. His mouth opened and said something Will barely caught over the music. He took off the headphones and let them hang around his neck.
“Sorry. Did you say something?”
Jonathan laughed at Will’s obviously dumb question. “We’ve been calling you for breakfast for 15 minutes, idiot. Karen was starting to think you died in your sleep.”
“Sorry. I was writing with music in my ears, so hard to pay attention. Let’s go reassure Karen,” Will joked. Jonathan and he had been living at the Wheelers’ for over a year, and Karen was clearly happy to help, unlike her husband, Chicken Ted.
Jonathan’s expression darkened, and he frowned. “What did we say about that?”
Will raised his eyebrows, trying to figure out what his brother meant. Listening to too much music?
“Stop apologizing all the time. You’re getting a little better, but not quite there yet.” Jonathan tapped Will’s nose and headed upstairs to the main floor.
He apologized too much. Will knew that, but it was a habit he’d developed over so many years—around his dad, bullies, even friends. Everyone wanted him to stop it, like you could just undo years of reflexes by sheer willpower.
The boy took off the headphones from his neck and set them down next to his journal. The page was now full. Will looked away, still feeling a little heavy in his chest, then followed Jonathan out of the room. The door creaked softly as he opened it to go downstairs.
The smell of burnt coffee and toast hit his nose as soon as he entered the kitchen. There were already people there. Karen was busy with the coffee maker, Holly silently eating her cereal, legs swinging under the dining table. His brother and sister were also sitting on wooden chairs. Mike had a slice of toast in his hand, and Nancy was casually reading the local paper. Jonathan was getting juice from the fridge and pulled out a bottle of orange juice. He waved at Will, motioning him to join the table where breakfast was already set. The head of the house was absent, probably still asleep in his bed.
Will kept his arms crossed for a moment, like he didn’t quite dare step into this bright scene.
“Will! Sleep well? I made you toast and jam.”
Karen smiled wide, her red and blue sweater looking brand new. His mom’s friend had always been there for the Byers, an emotional support they hid things from. Will quietly said thanks. He still felt awkward invading the Wheelers’ home like this.
Will sat in the last free chair, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.
“Dude, you look like you didn’t sleep a wink.” Mike said, twisting on his chair and looking down like a five-year-old. How could Will be in love with such a cute loser? Ask the universe.
“Thanks, Mike, always so sweet,” Nancy muttered, putting down the paper.
Will poured himself a glass of milk and shook his head. “Actually, I did... two or three hours.” His hesitant tone alarmed almost everyone. Nancy leaned forward, her hospital dress creasing. Jonathan put down his glass and rested a reassuring hand on his brother’s shoulder. And Mike’s eyes scanned Will like he was searching for some kind of injury. He opened his mouth, closed it, then reopened it, a worried question coming out. “Nightmares? Like, UD kind?”
The other two held their breath, waiting for an answer. Will’s gaze froze, his breath quickened. He didn’t want to worry them, especially not in front of Holly and Karen. So he lied, like always. “No, I just studied late. Don’t want a bad grade, right?”
They looked at him suspiciously but eventually gave up. Lies don’t always hold up, but at least they distract. Nancy sighed and spoke again, mysteriously.
“By the way, we really have to light the fire in the fireplace tonight. Meet at the living room at 6 PM.”
The boys immediately got the code. The military would burn the gate tonight, as usual. And the group had to meet at the WSQK station at 6 PM. Dustin had come up with the phrase, known by the not-so-ignorant group. And every time Will heard it, the scar on his side itched.
Suddenly, Holly broke their conspiracy trance with her cheerful seven-year-old voice. “I had a dream too! I was living in a big house like Alice in Wonderland, and there was a really nice big man!”
Nancy looked at her little sister amused, touched by her tender child’s mind. Instantly, Holly’s little aside relaxed the atmosphere around the table. Will chuckled softly, surprised by the little girl.
He got up slowly and grabbed his plate. Right away, Karen appeared. “Let me handle that—go get dressed!”
The 16-year-old thanked his host and headed back toward the hallway door. He dashed down the stairs, which creaked and clattered loudly under his feet. Once downstairs, he straightened his bed, pulling the sheets tight over the mattress.
Will paused for a moment in front of the rickety shelves nailed to the basement wall. That’s where they’d stored his wardrobe. He lifted a few pieces of clothing, searching for what to wear. Something warm to face the cold outside. Something to keep trouble away but also to stand out a little.
He grabbed a pair of brown pants he’d bought recently. Then a brown and beige plaid shirt, a familiar and comforting pattern. He buttoned it all the way up. Over that, he put on a teal pullover with buttons near the collar—one of his favorites. Finally, he grabbed his favorite jacket—the tricolor one, deep blue, red, and beige, with a red collar.
His inner voice started up again, reading what he’d written before being interrupted:
“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐢𝐟𝐭. 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐞’𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞—𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧, 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝.”
He grabbed his bag and shoved his Walkman inside, the headphones wrapped around it. Besides the mixtape, he also threw in another cassette of one of his favorite songs Mike hadn’t thought of: Eye of the Tiger.
Before heading upstairs, he took one last look around the room. Bed made. Journal put away. No trace of the nightmare—only inside him.
He climbed the stairs one by one, this time carefully avoiding the creaks, then pushed open the door to the warm light of the main floor. Nancy was casually wiping the table. Jonathan was washing dishes. Will remembered how he’d had to fight Karen to let her stop doing that chore. And Karen was just drying the last dishes with a towel.
Will looked at them all for a moment. He felt grateful, even if he didn’t say it enough.
“Uh… gotta run,” he said simply, slingin his bag over his shoulder. He smiled shyly. “Be back by 4 if all goes well.”
“Have a good day—and no dumb stuff!” Karen replied, smiling warmly as she kept wiping the plate she held.
Nancy walked over to toss some crumbs in the trash. “Try not to daydream too much in class.”
Jonathan turned and warned his little brother before going back to work. “Keep an eye on Mike, and stop him from getting you into too much trouble.”
Nancy gave her boyfriend a light tap on the head before looking at him fondly. Will smiled at their innocent little love and remembered how scared Jonathan had been about college and Nancy’s reaction. In the end, she hadn’t really been mad—just annoyed he hadn’t been honest. And their relationship had bounced back stronger than ever. RIP Steve.
He sighed and opened the door to go outside. The garage was cold, bathed in the pink light of the rising sun. Mike was crouched down checking the pressure on his back tire. His purple and blue striped sweater looked good on him, matching perfectly with his gray jacket. His focused expression made him look even more handsome—red lips contrasting with pale cheeks—and… Will immediately stopped, disgusted by those forbidden thoughts. Mike was his best friend, a straight guy, and his sister’s ex. Will’s fantasies weren’t normal.
Holly was there too, in her colorful coveralls and zipped yellow coat. She asked if he was ready. Will nodded. Another lie. He would never be ready for the boring and dangerous hell that was high school.
Will hoisted his bag onto his shoulders, closed the garage door, and hopped on his bike. Mike and Holly were already on theirs, one foot on a pedal, the other on the ground.
As soon as he saw his friend was ready, Mike turned to his sister.
“Come on, Holly, you lead the way!” he called.
The little girl took off, her tiny bike wobbling slightly on the gravel. The two boys followed, leaving the Wheeler driveway to join the main road.
The morning cold immediately seeped through their clothes as they rode through the neighborhood. Lots of houses looked empty, and some really were. Curtains drawn, withered Halloween decorations still hanging on porches, newspapers left on lawns—everything told the story of a frozen town, stuck in time.
Will pedaled slowly, his bag tight on his shoulders, and the voice in his head returned, relentless, like a thought he couldn’t push away.
“𝐄𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧. 𝐌𝐨𝐦 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲’𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬.”
They reached the end of the neighborhood with locked-up houses and passed downtown. As usual, the armored gate was shut tight, guarded by two soldiers who looked anything but friendly. Will shivered, thinking about what was behind it—and that only 20 meters separated him from the nightmare dimension.
Finally, they hit the long road lined with fields. Military trucks drove past, drivers behind the wheel. A helicopter flew overhead, clearly heading toward the big military base on the outskirts.
“𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭… 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐨𝐮𝐭, 𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝. 𝐏𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠’𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐥𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐥𝐲. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.”
More and more people crowded the road as they neared the school zone—elementary kids, middle and high school students, even some teachers walking with kids to protect them. Cars crept along slowly, following the new speed limit. The big tower for the Tigers basketball team gleamed bright white. Those players weren’t crazy enough to forget to keep their honor polished.
A yellow bus honked at the three kids on bikes, and they quickly moved aside. Mike suddenly swerved right, his tires skidding a bit on the gravel. The little downhill led them to the school—greener, almost peaceful, like it was fighting back against the rest of the world.
Holly got off her bike and locked it up at the bike rack. Mike did the same, making the radio hanging on his handlebars swing. Will parked his bike next to Mike’s, his blue bike contrasting with Mike’s yellow.
“𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐕𝐞𝐜𝐧𝐚. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐈𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞… 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭. 𝐀 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝. 𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠.”
Will stopped beside Mike, both watching Holly join her friends by the school entrance. The kid pointed at her chaperones, and her friends looked over. There was a brunette girl with glasses and a smaller black-haired boy. Holly waved enthusiastically and went inside. Will let out a sigh, relieved everything went well.
Suddenly, a shiver ran up his spine—sharp and freezing. His body temperature dropped, and Will’s eyes widened. He instinctively touched the back of his neck. Nothing seemed to move, and no monster appeared in the crowd of students—but HE was there, above Will. He felt the parasite’s icy breath on his neck, despite his weak hand blocking it.
He turned to Mike, looking for his friend’s gaze to stay grounded in reality. But Mike had vanished.
In his place stood a man in his thirties. He stood perfectly straight, one hand in his pants pocket. His blond hair was neatly combed and partially hidden under a stiff-brimmed brown hat—old-fashioned. Thick round glasses reflected a pale gleam on his nose. He wore a brown suit, perfectly tailored, with a red tie neatly knotted under a beige shirt collar. The whole look made him seem out of time, out of place… almost too polite to be real.
But it was his eyes that caught Will—pale blue eyes that didn’t blink, locked on Will like trying to memorize him. There was a strange kindness there, gentle but too intense, too possessive to be real.
Will couldn’t move. His heart raced. Every cell screamed at him to run, far away from this monster.
Then the man smiled.
Not a real smile. Just a subtle curl of the lips, soft, almost affectionate… yet it made Will nauseous. It felt like the smile was meant to calm him, to lure him in.
The man tilted his head slowly, almost curious. And in a barely audible whisper, as if savoring the name:
“𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚.”
Silence fell. No sound. The surroundings blurred, and Will could only focus on the man who had just said his name. A word that hung in the air like a mark branded on what belongs to him.
Will stepped back quickly, heart pounding, breath short. He blinked once.
And the man was gone.
The trees and school came back into sharp focus. The sounds of life returned. Mike was back too, standing exactly where the man had been. Will’s breath eased at the sight of his beloved friend. Mike always had a way to calm him, pull him out of those unreal traps. With those beautiful brown eyes, full of worry and something Will couldn’t quite name.
“Will? You okay?”
Will nodded, unable to speak. His stomach twisted. The cold at his neck hadn’t left.
Vecna had never shown himself like that. Not so distinct, not so human. But Will knew what he’d seen. It wasn’t a trick or a projection from his tired mind. It was Henry Creel. Vecna before being sent to another dimension.
And that was the most disturbing part.
He wasn’t the twisted, giant vine monster others described. No empty eyes, no elongated limbs, no abnormally large hands. Just a well-dressed, calm man, almost kind, staring at him like prey already marked. Something more human. More personal. And more terrifying.
He looked at him like something that already belonged to him. He said his name like it was obvious. And that was enough to make Will feel that creeping terror all over his body.
He was still there. Watching.
Will looked away and whispered, voice barely there:
“Let’s go.”
He jumped on his bike without waiting, heart still racing, hands shaking. He didn’t want to stay there a second longer. Not with that strange feeling that the worst was yet to come.