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Will can't sleep, but that's not exactly unusual.
He lays with his head hanging off the foot of the bed, staring around at his room upside down. It feels less disorienting this way somehow. It almost heightens his senses, like he can hear and feel echoes of things around him that are far away. It's a familiar sensation... reminiscent of the endless nights he spent lost in hell, straining to hear the distorted sounds of voices ebb in and out of focus, desperately clinging to the invisible streams of light and energy that wove around him like spider webs.
A sensation that, he'd be ashamed to admit, is comforting.
Despite the urge to push those memories as far back into his mind as he possibly can, Will is always chasing after that feeling like a drug. As horrible as the implications were, that familiar tingle on the back of his neck had been a rush. The hollow, empty space in his head that the Mind Flayer had left behind would finally be filled again... he could feel things again. It almost didn't matter that the things he felt, the thoughts that bled into his mind, were unspeakable and grotesque... it was still something.
Now, the door to that world is slammed shut once more. Those sensations have been snuffed out completely, leaving him with nothing again. Right back to feeling small and far away and lost. So like an addict in withdrawal, here he is, letting gravity pull him down and the blood rush to his head, hoping the pounding in his ears might yield a voice in the void once more. Despite knowing it's a hopeless endeavor, and he'll never truly replicate the extrasensory perception that demon had infected him with... and despite how much it unnerves him that he craves it... it's still something.
Time is frozen in the dizzying darkness, so Will can't tell for sure how late into the night it is when he hears it— faint and far away— the soft sound of El crying. He recognizes it so immediately that it startles him out of his trance. He bolts upright (a move he instantly regrets when a wave of nausea hits and he sees stars). It's a bit less clear now that he's right-side-up, but sure enough, distant and muffled sniffles and sobs reach his ears.
She has been staying at his house ever since it happened at the mall. It hasn't felt like much of a change, though... she just sort of floats around silently, like a ghost. Almost as though she's always been there. He hasn't bothered to talk to her very much. Mostly because she doesn't seem to want to talk to anyone. He figures her silence means she wants to be left alone, so that's what he does. He's heard her cry a few times before, but there's usually someone else like Mike or his mom there to comfort her or cry with her... This time, though, it sounds like she's alone.
Will always hated to hear or see people cry, ever since he was little. It would stick in his throat and threaten to bring tears to his own eyes if he didn't at least try to do something to cheer them up. His mom and his brother used to praise him for it, like he was some selfless saint... but really he just wanted it to stop, so he didn't have to feel bad himself. He's felt less and less inclined to do anything about it lately, disheartened since realizing the selfishness of his motives... not to mention this empty numbness that has been consuming him for a year and a half. So when something flutters in his chest, a little twinge of empathy, it's bittersweet. It hurts to hear her crying... but it's a glimmer of how he used to feel, before all this happened. And that's enough to compel him.
Will stands on wobbly legs to go find her. Almost on autopilot, his feet take him to the front door, to the porch. El jumps when the door creaks open, a lot more startled than she usually would be. It's strange to see, because El was always so vigilant and acutely aware of everything and everyone around her. Now, however, it takes a few seconds of panic and scrubbing tears from her eyes to even realize who is standing in the doorway.
"Are you okay?" he asks. His voice is rougher than he means it to be.
Still wiping her cheeks and nose, El nods. "I'm fine."
Will just looks at her for a long moment. She's wearing one of Hopper's coats again. It makes her look small. He sighs and nods, too. The understanding rings low in his tone, "Yeah."
Without another word, he walks over and sits down on the porch steps beside her. The old wood creaks as a loose board shifts, a splinter on the edge snagging his worn pajama pants and scraping the underside of his leg, but he barely flinches. El can't tell if it's apathy, or just that he's so familiar and comfortable with the run-down house that little things like that don't faze him. Though she's staring at him in confusion, he continues to say nothing, looking instead out into the dark towards the treeline. She seems to relax once she comes to the conclusion that he only intends to sit in her company. Her stuttering breath evens out and her hands stop fidgeting.
"I'm sorry... did I wake you?" she whispers finally.
Will hums and shakes his head slightly. "I don't sleep. Well," he hurriedly corrects himself, "not much, anyway. Not anymore."
El tilts her head at him. Though it's only in his peripheral view, he can tell she's searching his face. After a moment, her mouth twists and she sucks in a soft breath... simultaneously frustrated and remorseful. Somehow Will can tell it's because she's struggling to read him... and that's something she's never once failed to do before. He turns to offer her an sympathetic smile, hoping the brief eye contact might help bridge the gap. A bit of the frustration fades from her, but it's still only a little.
"I can't sleep either..." she says. "It's too... quiet."
"Quiet?" Will's brow furrows, taking in the ambience around them. Late summer cicadas are screaming, the street light at the end of their driveway is buzzing loudly, and the rusty air conditioning unit around the side of the house is making its usual racket of whirring and clanking. He knows El is sensitive to noises— one of the many factoids that Mike has told him— so it feels like an odd explanation.
She lets out a shaky sigh, "Everything is different... without my powers."
Oh.
El pulls her arms around herself, shrinking down into the oversized blue coat. That's the first time she's said the word "without"... Everyone has been tentatively using phrases like "when you recharge", "until you're strong again", "since you're tired right now". The defeat and acceptance on her face seems to indicate that she's known it for a while now... Her powers are gone gone.
Her voice wavers as she continues, "It's like I can't see or hear right anymore. It feels... dark, and..."
"Empty."
El looks up at that. She stares again, trying to figure out if he said it because he understands, or just... offering words. His face holds no emotions at all, just gazing blankly out into the night.
Rather than explaining, Will suddenly turns to her and asks, "What was it like? Before."
El opens her mouth to answer, but she falters. No one has ever really asked her that. She could demonstrate what her powers could do, but she's never had to verbalize the experience. She doesn't even know how to begin; she wouldn't have any way of knowing which aspects were normal and which ones were drastically different than the average person's abilities, let alone be able to find the words to describe it. At a loss, and feeling more alone and alienated than she has in a long, long time, El lowers her head to hide the oncoming tears. Her voice breaks, betraying her anyway, "I... I don't know."
Will stutters and makes a move like he wants to put an arm around her shoulders to comfort her, but awkwardly decides against it. "I-it's okay, you don't have to talk about it... Sorry, I was just curious..."
El just shakes her head and sniffles. "It's not that... I... I don't know anything anymore. It's all gone." She looks down at her hands; just empty, helpless palms. "I can't... I don't know."
"...I think I understand."
Her head snaps up. "You do?"
Will shifts nervously. "When... when the Mind Flayer was... in me... I started seeing things. In my head. I could feel everything so much. Lights were too bright, noises were too loud, and the air was too..." he gestures with his arms, tightening them around himself. "...I could hear all these sounds, ringing in my ears, any time someone was near me, and I... I knew it was them, somehow, like... their thoughts almost? But it wasn't like hearing words, it was more like... I could tell what they were feeling, sort of. I knew when they were scared or angry or..." his voice turns dark, and the air seems to shift to something colder. "...or lying to me."
There is a long pause. El doesn't move; she barely breathes. He avoids looking at her... surely he'd see only fear. Before he can stop it, the dark confessions tumble from his mouth, "And sometimes I... I could look at something alive, like a... a bird, sitting on the power lines, and see its whole lifespan, right there. Watch it grow, die, and decay, all at once. Everything I looked at, if I looked hard enough..."
Will shifts again, uncomfortable; he never told anyone this. He hates thinking about it. He hates remembering what his mother's face looked like, shrivelling and melting and crawling with maggots...
His throat feels raw when he continues, "Everything felt like death. Like I just knew... everything. And everything was death."
Another long, painful pause. El is still staring at him, probably some mix of horrified and fascinated. He still can't bring himself to look at her, even as the coldness in his tone subsides. "It was awful, but... I dunno... after a while it felt..."
Powerful, his mind supplies. He could feel every living thing crawling across the earth, miniscule and infesting, like bugs. And he could make those things die, just by looking... Will chokes down that thought— and the sadistic thrill that comes with it— like bile in his throat. "...It felt natural, I guess. Like that's the way I'm supposed to feel. Anyway... I got used to seeing everything and... knowing. So when it left me... and things went back to normal, I..."
He shifts around again, disgusted at himself. Even the way he could feel people's emotions was too much... Though it was a relief, or even a strength to be able to read others without any doubts... surely it's wrong to be able to do that so easily. Like digging through their mind for secrets.
But what's worse... What's undeniably, infinitely worse... He killed people. He nearly killed his own mother— he has the scar on his side to prove it.
That thing made him into a monster. He shouldn't want to feel that power again, that horrible terrifying power that haunts him.
El lays a soft hand on his arm. At last, he finds the courage to look at her. She still says nothing, but in her eyes is a glimpse of her old self; this... this she understands. And she isn't afraid.
Her gentle gaze fills him with an odd warmth and relief. Strangely... she's easy to talk to. He remembers Mike's words to him from before, that Eleven would understand when no one else would, she always did... Mike was right, and at last he believes it. It suddenly makes all the sense in the world why he's been stuck to this girl like a magnet... and it sends a bitter pang of guilt into his stomach for how he'd treated her, and Mike as well, for that matter. He'd wanted the party to himself and lashed out at them... He had been so angry... Even without an interdimensional demon pulling the strings, he could still hurt them, he had still wanted them to hurt.
Selfish.
Maybe he really is a monster.
At last El speaks up, "I sometimes wished I was normal... Before. But..." She trails off, at a loss again.
With all the ways El could hurt people... he wonders if she feels like a monster for wanting her powers back, too.
The awkwardness between them settles into a strange, wordless solidarity. The stillness of the night starts to feel tranquil for once. Will is taken aback when El scoots closer and leans her head on his shoulder.
He tenses at first. She's never done that before... As a matter of fact, no one ever has. He's not usually the person people approach seeking comfort like this. He's the little brother, the one who always needs the shoulder to cry on. Not to mention the fact that it's El, a girl who has always had such a strong presence about her, the literal superhuman who has sacrificed herself to save his life and would do it again in a heartbeat. Now, however, she feels so small and lost... and just like him. A strange feeling arises in his chest:
He wants to protect her.
It's a familiar urge, similar to when he's compelled to cheer up someone who is sad, but not quite the same. This time it's deeper than that. Before the feeling gets snuffed out by doubt or insecurity, he wraps his arm around her shoulders, letting her lean on him comfortably. Her hair tickles his neck a bit and Hopper's overlarge coat smells like cigarettes— a different, stronger scent than the kind his mom smokes— but it's not so bad. He's surprised to find that the physical closeness to someone outside his family isn't weird or bothersome at all. It feels natural. She lets out a soft sigh, not of frustration but of contentment, and the ever-present cold pit in his stomach melts into something warmer. He can be the big brother for once, for someone. Even someone like her.
He latches onto the feeling. Maybe having this shared experience isn't so bad.
Maybe this means he doesn't have to be a monster after all... Or if he is, at least she'll be there with him. A pair of not-quite-monsters in a not-quite-normal world.