Chapter Text
The world had been purple that night. The night Will Byers disappeared.
The sky and earth had been humming lowly throughout the week, humming from somewhere behind the stars. It was a low note that adults in hawkins never heard between the noise of usual life, but kids were scared of without any proper reason. It was the kind of humming Will felt trembling across his bones the moment he left the Wheeler's doorstep after he'd been playing all day with his friends.
It was the usual humming of Antlia.
.
.
.
⋆.˚ ⟢
November 6, 1983. Will Byers disappeared during Hawkins' Antlia celebrations.
November 12, 1983. Will Byers came back to life.
November, 6, 1984. Doctors said Will Byers was experiencing PSTD. It resulted, instead, that Will Byers was experiencing a supernatural rewiring of his self.
November 6, 1985 passed by without any major complications.
November 6, 1986 passed by without any major complications.
...
October, 1987.
"Good morning and welcome, Indiana!— Yes, all of you, even the ones still half-asleep, to the starry start of Antlia's preparations. We are officially one month away from the sky doing that thing again, you know, the one that makes scientists panic and tourists lose their minds. This year, hawkins is expecting at least over five hundred visitors in the next few days, isn't it just great? That means our small town is about to learn what traffic feels like, by the way. So buckle up to be tortured under a beautiful magenta moonlight."
Faint sunlight, spilling through the windows above the sink, received Will when he entered the kitchen. It was gold, all washed in a soft hue that reminded him of the stars he'd been painting all around the school for this year's Antlia's celebrations. He could swear he'd be soon sick of that tone.
Will blinked against the brightness, still drowsy with the ghost warmth of his bed. The low static of Robin's voice in the radio slowly faded into background noise as she kept talking about Antlia.
Jonathan was already there, serving breakfast, and their mom was nowhere to be seen, probably already at work.
"Morning, bud." Jonathan said, placing Will's plate in front of him after he took his usual seat at the table.
"Morning," Will gave him a soft smile in return.
It'd been just a couple of months since Jonathan left to college, but he and Nancy had actually gotten a permit to cover this year's Antlia as reporters for their respective colleges's newspaper. Will suspected they'd actually tried to get that permit harder than they let on, just to be with their families during these times, but he didn't say anything about it.
Will wanted— no, he wished with all his might that everyone was wrong, that nothing would happen during the meteor shower, and that everything returned to normal just the morning after. But he knew deep down that it wasn't going to be that easy. Something had burned behind his eyes the previous night while he slept, a brief violet glow that felt like remembering a name he'd wished he'd never known. The clock on his nightstand had clicked over to 3am, the night had been eerily silent and freezing cold, immensely lonely and scary in its quietness.
Will had lay anxiously in bed all night, unable to sleep properly, but by morning, the world hadn't ended. So... it wouldn't be stupid to hope that everyone would move on and stop worrying about him, right? That it all had been just a weird experience that started a weird series of events.
When pushing himself out of his chair after finishing breakfast, Will felt the cold floor creaking beneath his feet. Outside, the sky was now washed in soft pinks and pale lilac, the exact shade of his previous dreams. It was so sad how Will would've preferred to wake up to a rainy and cloudy sky. He kind of missed clouds at this time of the year.
By the time Will left for school, the world had settled back into itself, his nightmares had been just that: nightmares, and everything seemed to go on like it normally did. Will biked all the way to highschool, internally thanking Jonathan for not driving him, for letting him feel like a normal teenager even during the days previous to the anniversary of the thing that started it all.
He didn't see the faint shimmer that followed him down the sidewalk, small as a flicker of fire that quietly observed him.
The stars had already decided, just like they had decided 4 years ago. The rest of the town just hadn't caught up yet. Will Byers hadn't caught up yet.
ᯓ ⋆˙⭑.ᐟ
"So, are we adressing the elephant in the room?" Dustin asked the rest of the party in an ironic tone, just as Will approached them. Will assumed they were just talking while they waited for him, since he was the last one to arrive.
All the party, except for El, was grouped in a corner near Mike's locker. After El had escaped from all the upside down stuff, they all had tried to convince Hopper to enroll her in highschool with them, but he insisted that having a sudden magical daughter was too hard to explain to the rest of the town, so she had to lean into homeschooling.
"What elephant?" Will asked as soon as he was near enough for them to hear him.
"Mike and El's break up," Max quickly filled him in, bored. Lucas and Dustin just nodded. Mike looked annoyed.
At the news, Will shifted uncomfortably on his place. "They broke up again?"
"That's what I'm saying!" Lucas exclaimed, feeling supported by Will's sudden presence and words. "There's no elephant, because that's nothing new.”
"This time's different!" Mike hurriedly chimed in. "We broke up for good, really. And it's nothing to make a scandal about. So yes, in that we agree, there's no elephant."
"Really?" Dustin pressed in, skeptical.
"We just realized it's easier when we're friends." Mike added, trying to act casual but definitely failing to hide his upset and nervous expressions.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Will asked, not really sure if his question was directed to the absent El or to Mike. Either way, he felt a slight feeling of worry for her, making a mental note to visit her after school.
Mike instantly looked guilty, deviating his eyes to somewhere else.
"To be fair, they didn't tell the rest of us either." Dustin went on, catching the awkward atmosphere he'd caused. "I just could sense the weird vibes when I arrived."
"The good vibes, you mean." Max corrected, rolling her eyes. "It was so refreshing to be able to maintain a normal conversation without hearing Mike's complaints... Until you brought it up."
Mike also rolled his eyes, mimicking her. "You guys are so annoying."
"I'm good as long as you guys don't make things awkward." Lucas shrugged it off, trying to just dismiss the subject already. "I mean, at least no more awkward than when you're dating."
Will barely managed to suppress a little chuckle, knowing it was not the time to laugh. They all started to walk down the hallway like it was routine, all paired up with the person they shared first period with in a natural established order. Apparently, it was all about their talk of Mike and El's relationship, they all just stopped pressing about it.
Well, at least all except Dustin.
"Alright but," Dustin continued. "Now that everyone here's single, I just think it's time for us to address the other big elephant in the room."
"The obvious anxiety that everyone has because of Antlia?" Max asked, sarcastically.
"Oh," Dustin grimaced. "Yeah, that too."
Mike glanced sideways, concealing the feeling of there not being a good place to talk about that.
Everyone immediately understood.
"Well... if you weren't talking about that, then what do you mean?" Will asked, still visually uncomfortable.
"The starry ball." Dustin replied, matter-of-factly.
They all stopped in their tracks, looking at him with incredulous faces. The starry ball was one of the known celebrations during the night of the meteor shower. Hawkins' Highschool teens just seized every opportunity to make a big ass party at the gym, and it had already become a sort of ritual for all of them.
"You can't be serious," Lucas said.
Dustin shrugged. "I mean, they say that your date to that ball defines like, your whole future love life."
"That's just bullshit," Mike said.
"Well, I think it's kind of romantic." Max added, making Mike narrow his eyes at the sneaking suspicion that Max was just trying to oppose him.
"It's bullshit," Mike repeated himself. Classic. "It's meant to press lame teenagers to ask someone to go and waste their money on this shitty school. Right? You all can't believe that shit."
Mike looked especially at Will when saying that, expecting to see some kind of agreement inside his hazel eyes, but Will only shrugged, a bit shy.
"I think it's kind of sweet."
"And we know Antlia has some weird magical energy or whatever," Max agreed. "Who knows? It might be true."
"You sound literally insane," Mike told her, but there wasn't actual bite on his tone. At this point, it was just the usual interaction between them.
"You're just bitter because El dumped you for good, and you're probably going alone to the ball and sealing your fate as a forever-single man." Max replied to him, just in the same way.
"El didn't dump me!" Mike shot back. "It was a mutual agreement."
As Max and Mike kept on bickering, Lucas, Dustin, and Will exchanged funny glances, just letting them be. It was too early in the morning to pay any mind to whatever unresolved beef they had, but if they asked Will, he always kind of was on Max's side.
Is not that Will really, fully believed that a highschool dance could just solve some teenagers love-life forever, especially not his, but the idea of attending a cosmic-themed party and just... sharing the moment with someone else sounded so nice. Will was, tragically, a hopeless romantic, even if he didn't admit it. But romance was simply just not a thing for people like him, so he was fine with organizing and attending the ball, watching all the couples believe that this silly dance would bond them for life.
ᯓ ⋆˙⭑.ᐟ
The art room at school was a place Will had associated with safety and much needed quietness ever since he first stepped in it. It was always warm, because the sun hit right in front of it most of the morning, and it also nicely smelled of paper, wood, and fresh paint, a scent Will highly enjoyed. Every time the world became to much, that was one of the places he went to for comfort.
Now, however, that peace was currently being shattered by the rhythmic thud of a basketball bouncing against the floor whenever Will's companion got too bored. Chance... yes, basketball team Chance, was leaning against the teacher's desk, effortlessly and lazily dribbling a ball with one hand while squinting at a flyer for the starry ball with the other. He was dressed like he'd come straight from practice, but apparently, he still had a lot of his usual restless energy.
Will was in charge for the starry ball’s art in general, and yes, that entailed doing the flyers, but also making the overall decorations and some banners... As well as for some reason helping with the rest of the organization. There were not many volunteers, to be honest. Will's art teacher had asked him for his cooperation and he hadn't known how to say no, but he'd thought it couldn't be that bad.
He was wrong.
As soon as Will had stepped into the art room after classes, he'd saw Chance Manalo in there. Apparently, volunteering to help with the ball's organization granted people with extra credits that Chance probably, desperately needed. So, there they were now, being partnered up to make their highschool's traditions work.
And it couldn't be more awkward, because they both had completely different ideas and expectations about it.
Will was perching on a stool at a splattered work table, drawing delicate lines of a constellation onto a white standard paper sheet, and each thud of Chance's basketball in the empty classroom was making his lines waver.
"So..." Chance started, not looking up from the flyer. "What do you think about the music? I was thinking about something upbeat, you know, danceable. But Stacey keeps saying we need something romantic."
"I mean, i's the starry ball," Will replied, trying to keep his voice neutral while he traced the lines of his drawing. "The theme is cosmic, so maybe the music should feel... dreamlike, I guess."
"Dreamlike." Chance repeated, catching the ball to a stop and finally looking at Will with a faint smirk on his face. "You mean slow?"
"Yeah," Will spared him a glance "You know, atmospheric."
"Atmospheric?" Chance echoed again, rolling the word around. "Right... I guess nothing says more party than feeling like you're floating in the void of space."
Will's stoped drawing for a moment, sparing Chance a glance. "It don't know, I feel like it's supposed to be magical."
"But people are also supposed to have fun." Chance shot back, starting to walk over around the classroom.
Will watched him move around. They'd just talked for the first time like three days ago, but Chance already treated Will like they'd always been classmates. Will, on an opposite side, still didn't know how to address Chance at all, because he was definitely an enigma, but he tried to be really careful around him.
"I think I might agree with Stacey, though." Will just sadded. "And, well— maybe romance can also be fun, right?"
"Yeah, I guess." Chance stopped near him, giving him a look Will didn't know what it mean.”
Will cleared his throat, a little bit self-conscious.
Was it normal for guys to talk about these kind of things? His own friends always avoided sounding too corny when talking about romantic relationships, except for Lucas sometimes, so he wouldn't precisely know how a jock like Chance would take that side of Will's usual self. Especially when practically all town already had some specific labels they'd put on him because of that.
God, he was just overthinking it.
"I mean... wouldn't it be nice if you had some nice music to dance with your date for a while?"
Chance let a bright, loud laugh out. "I won't have a date, byers."
This time, Will frowned slightly. There was no way in hell that Chance wouldn't have a date to the ball, even Will could see how good-looking he was. The mere idea of one of the hawkins' tigers guys going alone to a dance was like a whole impossibility. Then again, Chance could be one of those jerks that liked to mess around with a lot of girls and never actually settled for someone.
Chance caught Will's confused expression, but he didn't say anything else to clear himself. Instead, he leaned slightly, peering down at Will's drawing. "Holy shit, this one's better than the last one."
"Really?” Will asked, squinting back at his work.
"Yeah, definitely. It's crazy good." The genuine, off-handed compliment threw Will more than the teasing of the last few days had. Chance pointed a finger at a swirling nebula Will had added as a border. "This looks like that one painting Mrs. Davies talked about last week, you know, the swirly blue one."
"Starry night?" Will asked, stunned.
"Yeah, that one." Chance leaned closer, and Will caught a faint, clean smell of soap, probably from Chance's shower after practice. "See? I know art things, too. Sometimes."
"You know one art thing," Will replied, amused.
"It's a start." Chance straightened up, his smirk returning. "Okay, you clearly know what you're doing, so maybe I can let you give me advice with other stuff for the ball. We could do... your atmospheric music for the first hour, to set the... vibe. Then, when people are properly on it, we hit them with Michael Jackson. Get them moving."
Will fought a totally involuntary twitch at the corner of his mouth. It was the first time Chance had said talked about a 'we’ since they started to work together.
"Michael Jackson?"
"Yeah!" Chance replied. "What about it?"
"Nothing," Will smiled. "But by the way you talked about music... I'd thought you would suggest something else. Like, the Thompson Twins."
"No way, I like the Thompson Twins too."
"Of course you do."
Chance narrowed his eyes. "What? It's not pretentious enough for you?"
"Yeah," Will answered, jokingly. "And also not starry at all."
"Well, byers, they will be starry if they're played on a gym fully decorated with stars," Chance shot back.
Alright, he kinda had a point.
"Fine," Will said. "One hour of your... thing. Then we go back to Cocteau Twins."
"Hey, isn't kinda weird they're both twins? But... yeah, I guess. It's a deal." Chance's smile widened into a big grin. "See? We can both play nice. And I promise not to ruin your... what's this one called?" He nodded at the poster.
"Antlia, like the constellation where the meteor shower probably comes from." Will replied, looking at him. "The air pump."
Chance laughed, disbelieved. "The air pump? They named a constellation after a tire jack? That's the least magical thing I've ever heard."
"It's about an old air pump, not like the ones we use now." Despite himself, Will laughed too. "And it's named like that because of its form."
"Creative," Chance kept on joking, but his gaze was soft as it swept over Will's third draft for their flyers.
Suddenly, the final bell of the day rang, making them jump in their places.
Chance sighed. "Well, I guess that's our call to freedom."
Will nodded, placing his drawing into his folder. "I'll hand a copy of my options for the flyers to everyone tomorrow."
"Good," Chance said. "But if I'm honest, you should just keep the design you made today. Those guys don't know a shit about art, anyway."
Will chuckled at that, shaking his head. Chance walked away from him, gathering his things before he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed for the door.
"Don't stay up all night drawing more tire jacks, byers." He called over his shoulder, a smirk back in his face.
"It's not a tire jack!" Will called after him, but the door was already swinging shut.
The quietness was finally back in the art room.
Will looked down at his drawing, at the constellation of Antlia. He’d just drawn what he saw in his dreams last night, as a way to get it out of his system. But it 'd actually beeen his favorite design until now too.
ᯓ ⋆˙⭑.ᐟ
The air in El's room at Hopper's cabin was now filled with the scent of vanilla-scented candles, her more recent and cherished discovery.
The Cure's "How Beautiful You Are" spun from Hopper's salvaged turntable. El sat on the floor with her back to Will's knees, as he carefully sectioned her hair. Will had learned from Max how to braid her hair, and now El asked him to do it a lot whenever they hang out together, even if she usually preferred to fill her curly hair with a lot of colorful hair clips.
"He named the constellation a tire jack, as if he didn't heard when I said pump, air pump."
El's shoulders shook with a silent laugh. "Air pump?"
"Antlia, the air pump. He thinks it's the least magical thing he's ever heard." Will's voice was light, a gentle complaint that held no actual, real heat against Chance.
"Is he wrong?" El asked, tilting her head back to look up at him upside down.
"Yes, but no." Will muttered with a small, incredulous smile on his face as he worked a comb through a El's hair. "He just said it to be funny, but he's not... charming."
"You don't like him?"
"I don't know," Will replied. "I mean, I think I do. I don't have any reasons not to, except that his friends are kind of jerks, but..."
"Does he bother you?"
"Not really," Will added. "He's nice, or at least he tries to be nice with me. But... I don't know, I wonder if Dustin or Mike would get mad if I actually were friends with him. You get it?"
El shrugged. "I think so."
Will sighed. "Sorry, I don't even know why I'm talking about this."
"Will," El called after him. "It's fine."
"I just— I don't know. Today, Chance looked at my flyer really nice, like he actually liked it. And for some reason I thought about it a lot... as if maybe we could have things in common."
"...Not like Mike and me," El said softly, her gaze drifting to the woodened rooftop of her room.
Will's fingers stilled on her hair for a second, the unspoken comparison between Chance and Mike hung heavy in the air as Will realized where the subject had drifted to. Had El thought something else about his complaints about Chance?
"Yeah, about that..." he whispered, clearing his throat. "How is the breakup going?"
Silence settled for a moment between them. Will continued his work until he finished El's first braid, securing it with a small, clear elastic from his wrist.
"Not bad," El replied, calmly. "Mike called earlier. I think we're good, but he keeps saying I should listen to Hop and hide here for the next few weeks"
Will hummed, sympathetically, before he started with her second braid. "I think he means well."
"He still doesn't trust that I can be careful." El corrected him. "We are just... like different shapes. And we do not fit."
"I know." Will's heart ached for her, and for the echo of that feeling in his own chest. "I mean, I don't really think that you two don't fit but... I get what you mean."
"It's okay. It hurt at first, but it's like... a good hurt." El continued, and she sounded genuine. "Dustin came this morning, too. He brought his soldering iron."
That made Will laugh. "Of course he did."
"He had a broken walkie and he fixed it while we ate some candies. Then he taught me, he said it's a code. Over means you're finished talking, but you are still listening, and over and out means you're leaving." She reached over to her bedside table and held up a chunky, black walkie with a stripe of purple electrical tape on the side that had Jane the mage written on it in Dustin's messy scrawl. "He gave it to me and said I really needed one to talk with you guys now that I'm going to be on lockdown. Channel 6. For non-emergency communication."
So that was the reason why Dustin had kept talking about Mike and El's breakup. He’d lied, he'd already knew.
Will smiled, now having a better understanding of the situation, before tying off El's second braid. "Sorry, I should've known you'd like to have a walkie too."
"It's okay, I have one now." El nodded, placing the walkie back carefully, as if it were made of glass. "Dustin's really cool. He said Mike and Hop would kill him if they heard him, but that I shouldn't just do things just because someone tells me to."
"Yeah, I think Max would agree with him."
"And you?"
"I..." Will gently guided her to turn around now that he'd finished with braiding her hair. "I agree with them, but also with Mike and Hop. You should be careful. And they're just worried about you, but you should also tell them what you want."
"...Okay," El nodded. "It's just that... Hop bought more eggos today. A whole box. I think he's really trying to make me less angry because I can't go out during Antlia, but it just makes me more mad."
Will snorted at that. "Yeah, I get it. Mom bought three new locks for the doors yesterday and tried to pretend it was just because we needed them."
"Overprotective," El stated, like a simple fact.
"So overprotective," Will agreed with a shared sigh, leaning back. "I love mom, but if it weren't for Jonathan, I'd probably also be locked up in my room until Antlia passes."
El looked sympathetically at him, understanding his frustration.
Will wished they actually lived together, he missed just spending time with El and doing nothing together, but for now this was good enough. They understood each other in a whole other level, probably like nobody else, and even if sometimes Will's heart ached for El and how unfair she had it until now, he also felt some kind of comfort about it, about knowing he was not alone.
Just at the same time the music stopped rolling, their peace was suddenly shattered by a violent burst of static from the black walkie on El's nightstand.
Both of them jumped.
"Party to Jane. Party to Jane. Jane, do you copy? Over." The static resolved into Dustin's voice, strained and utterly devoid of its usual theatricality.
"Dustin!" El hurried to held the walkie. "I heard you, over."
"Great, it worked!" Dustin's celebration came out in response. "Uhm— we have a code red. Is Will with you? Over."
"I'm here." Will replied when El pressed the button and brung the walkie toward him.
"Okay, cool." Dustin said. "We need you guys at the woods near the old quarry. Like, right now. We’re having an emergency crawl. Over and out."
Silence flooded the room again. El's eyes met Will's, and they both shrugged and nodded in mutual understanding.
El was already on her feet, grabbing her jacket. She handed Will his.
ᯓ ⋆˙⭑.ᐟ
This kind of nights were, by now, a terrible and ridiculous series of disastrous decisions.
For El, it all usually worked out with a note saying that she was sleeping at Max's, when, in fact, Max was allegedly staying at "Jane's." To the boys, it was even easier, they just sneaked in and out their houses on a daily basis. It was always messy and awkward, and definitely not believable enough, but honestly, it was also surprising how little most of their parents cared about the places their children spent their nights in.
Teenager freenzy, they'd say.
This night, the woods were restless again. Even before the first inhuman shriek cut through the fog in the dark.
The whole party was walking inside the forest, their only light sources being just their usual flashlights and the slight brightness of the moon. Will could feel the moss beneath his shoes pulse faintly, and he'd swear it was just his imagination, but he still froze in his place. Ever since he first got lost in the upside down, he'd had a connection with it that he couln't quite explain yet, but it was useful to know whenever any kind of creature was near.
"It's on the north side," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I think it might be hunting, I dont— I don't feel that it's angry."
"A demogorgon?" Max asked him.
Will nodded, feeling the skin on his body go cold.
"We have to move before it does. But get the wards first. I'd rather we see it before someone else sees us." Mike then said, ordering everyone with that calm tone of his. Dustin and El immediately separated from the group on their way to do just that. "Will?"
Will nodded, trying to shake off the feeling of axious fear he always had whenever they did these strolls. “I'm fine."
It was just a matter of seconds before a low sound came from the shadows. The demogorgon that had activated Dustin's sensors around the woods, and that Will had felt as soon as he got close to the forest, appeared just a couple of feet away from them.
Lucas and Mike moved first to try and catch its attention, like they always did, and, like almost every time, Lucas was the first one to be chased.
The demogorgon's claws tore shallow lines across Lucas's forearm, almost catching him, but it would later be more irritation than injury. He ran as fast as he could, leading it to their usual spot.
"Stay down!" Lucas yelled to nobody in particular.
As soon as they got to a small clearing, Lucas ducked into his side. Max slipped past the rest of the party, throwing the balloons filled with acetone that they always had prepared towards the demogorgon.
Will stepped back into the front, but Lucas immediately stopped him. "Wait, don't burn it until we heard Dustin's signal!"
Will gulped then, stepping back again as he felt his heartbeat spike. At spotting Will, the demogorgon also stepped back, instead returning to Mike and Lucas, even more aggressive.
"Dustin?" Will called out.
"I'm on it!" Dustin's shouted back from further away. He was hunkered down in the little protection zone El and him had cast, an invisible bubble of psychic static that blurred and muted everything they did. With all the groups of scientists and eager reporters crawling around because of Antlia, they had to be more careful. One wrong move, and their secret war would be front-page news, along with the existence of El.
Dustin's hands flew over his modified ham radio and and geiger counter setup. "If this thing came from a temporary gate, there'll be a particle, but I'm not reading anything."
"I have a theory!" Mike blurted to Lucas. His breath was ragged as he dodged a clawed swipe that shredded the bark off a nearby pine. He didn't have a weapon other than the usual shovel he carried around.
"I don't think it's the time to prove theories!" Lucas yelled back.
"No! Listen—" Mike called, his eyes locked on the monster's movements. "I think demogorgons lower their guard when they think they have their prey secured! Not just caught, but... contained! The moment right before they go for the kill, they pause. That's the best moment to attack, I know. I've been watching them since the past three crawls!"
"What the hell does that mean?!" Max shouted too.
"It means we let it think it's winning!" Mike insisted.
"We're not letting the demogorgon beat our asses to test that theory, man!" Lucas said.
But it was too late. Even if Mike hadn't planned it this way, the demogorgon seemed to sense his momentary distraction. It feinted toward Max, then pivoted with terrifying speed.
It caught Mike by surprise, one of the demogorgon's heavy limbs slamming into his chest and pinning him against the mossy forest floor. The air left his lungs in a pained whoosh. The creature's other clawed hand pressed down on his shoulder, not quite piercing, but holding him with immovable strength.
"Mike!" El's cried from where she maintained the protective bubble of static, a trickle of blood beginning to trace a path down from her nose. The strain of holding the field while her friends were hurt was immense.
Everyone held their breath. Will stood frozen a few yards away, his senses screaming. He saw Mike, pinned, his face white with pain and fear. The demogorgon was leaning in, a low, wet rasping sound emanating from its throat.
It was savoring the moment, just like Mike said.
He was right, Will thought with a surge of terrified awe.
Mike, gritting his teeth, slowly moved his free hand towards the ground beside him. His fingers tried to get to the lighter they all kept on their pockets. He readied himself, silently counting, waiting for the monster's the guard to drop.
One.
Two.
Before three, his theory was proved wrong.
A blast of telekinetic force sent the demogorgon flying into the nearest tree. El had hurried to save Mike before the demo chewed his head off.
"I got it!" Dustin yelled.
At that, Will moved immediately. He took his own lighter and in one fluid motion, he lunged past Lucas's reaching arm and thrust the tiny fire into the demogorgon.
The demo thrashed, making horribly loud sounds as it burned, making them all back up. Its burning body sublimated into streams of ashy particles until in the place where the demogorgon had been, there was only a scar on the scorched earth and a small, red light coming from the remaining cinders.
After the overwhelming noise that the demogorgon had created, there was only silence. All the party drifted closer, just to check on both Mike and Will.
Max stood up, helping Lucas while brushing off leaves from her jacket. "That one was uglier than usual."
Dustin chuckled from his place. "You say that every time."
El didn't smile."There are more every time."
"It must be because of Antlia." Will sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. At least the worst of the pain had already passed.
"It'd only been decay and vines for the last month. We hadn't seen a demogorgon for a while." Mike said, looking toward the deepest par of the forest, where the fog had begun to gather again. "There has to be a gate, or at least one has to be opening. And I'm not talking about the quick ones that the demos open."
They all looked at Dustin.
"Yeah, I think that's very probable." He said. "But I need to see today's readings again, just to be sure."
"So, if there's actually one, we find it, right?" Max said, matter-of-factly.
"And we close it," El completed.
Until now, the moon had been hiding beneath a shroud of clouds, but it slowly started to show as the cold air cleared its way.
"Or—" Mike looked at everyone for a moment, hesitating. His eyes stopped in Will's moonlit frame.
Will looked pale, the eyebags on his face making him look younger.
With the moonlight hovering over them, the subtle energy that the last Antlia had imprinted on them seemed to shimmer faintly to their usually unaware eyes, adorning everyone with flickering illusions of light. Will's, especially, had always been duller than the rest, born from the day he was taken away, from what they supposed was his fear and hunger.
Will's energy was born rotten and corrupted, and it hurt him most of the time, but it also had a faint purple glow underneath that made it alluring and beautiful. It painted him with illusions of a mage, or a wizard, though Mike liked to think it was something akin to a cleric.
But most of all, it was a reminder of why they all did this. Of why Mike did this.
"Or we cross it," Mike said, softly.
Will immediately frowned upon hearing Mike's words, understanding quicker than the rest his intentions, like he always did. "No, we don't."
Everyone's gazes turned to them, already sensing the quarrel.
"This might be the chance to recover your soul from the upside down, Will." Mike justified himself, stumbling over his words. "Of understanding what is all of this, why you. This might be our chance of— I don't know, returning to normal."
"We don't have to do this," Will said, trying to be avoidant. "I'm fine."
"You're not." Mike retorted. "You perfectly know that these things come for you, that we hunt them so they don't hunt you, that's how it'd been for the past four years!"
"It's just because of the Antlia," Will kept going, pointing up to the sky. "After it ends, it won't be a problem. And it happens every 4 years. Next time it happens, I'll be at college, away from here. It'll stop."
"And what if it doesn't?"
"It has to."
"What if it keeps targeting you when we are apart? What if the fact that your soul's isn't on earth affects you when you're away from all of this?" Mike pressed in. "We'd all go in there for you. I'd go in there for you. Can't you see? You're just—" He searched for the word, landing on the ones that hurt most. "You're being uselessly selfless, snd reckless, and so stupidly— stubborn."
Will looked at the rest of the party, maybe searching for any kind of support or proof that they in fact wouldn't go to another world for him, but everyone was adverting their eyes to somewhere else, pretending they didn't hear or awkwardly trying to keep themselves out of the discussion.
Will sighed.
"Mike, I don't need that. Okay? I'm fine." He repeated, but the words sounded emptier than ever. “I'm glad I have you guys, of course I am. and I— I thank you because you're actively saving me every day. But nobody needs to risk their lives crossing into a another dimension just for a theory."
Mike snorted, looking at the floor with an upset face. "You're unbelievable."
And then he just turned and walked away.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The forest smelled like iron, smoke, and rotten flesh, and it only intensified after a couple of water drops started to hit the ground.
"Hey, how's that?" Dustin bent down, brushing damp dirt from his hands. "It actually rained."
Lucas sighed, looking back at El's and Max's concerned faces. "Let's just hope it's cloudy the rest of the month."
ᯓ ⋆˙⭑.ᐟ
Will didn't know what was louder, if the fading sound of Mike's words, still ringing inside his skull, or the sudden, consuming silence around him.
The party had scattered into the woods, hurrying before the rain worsened. Dustin said he'd accompany El back, Max and Lucas were obviously heading back together, and Will had insisted he would be fine on his own, refusing to go with any of them. He'd walked with no destination, the cold air biting at the hot tracks of the frustrated tears on his cheeks. He just needed the world to stop demanding something from him for five minutes, just five minutes.
Mike's plans, the worry of his family, the constant hurt and ache in his body that he refused to share with his friends... it was all too much. He wanted to be a blank space, an empty patch of night, to sleep under the stars for a whole year without having any dreams.
That's when he saw it again. The red light. The gate that Dustin would probably be tracking and calculating its location throughout the night.
It was a vertical glowing slit between two trunks. It was very small and it was slowly, patiently, stitching itself closed.
And it was calling him.
It wasn't a voice, obviously, but Will felt it like a hum, a deep, gravitational yearning.
Every cell in his body remembered the cold, the silence, the endless blue of the upside down. His feet moved without thinking, Mike's voice, his friends' faces, the warm light of his kitchen that morning, it all felt like a distant, poorly-remembered dream.
He was ten feet away, then five. He could see the light wasn't emitting from the rift. The rift was a hole, and the light was what was inside. An impossible, swirling nebula of violet, red, and black.
Will lifted a hand, trying to touch the surface of the gate, just to see if he’d feel the coldness from four years ago.
He belonged there.
.
.
Chance's head was throbbing, the cheap beer from Andy's pre-antlia party was sloshing unpleasantly in his gut, he was going to throw up in any moment now.
He'd left early. For some reason, the cheerful "Chug! Chug! Chug!" of his friends while he swallowed all the alcohol from his cup had made the loneliness that he was trying to drown feel even worse. He just wanted to cut through the forest, let the cold on his skin clear his head, and get home.
Blurry as both his vision and mind were at the moment, he could swear he saw someone standing a few feet away from him, in front of a small light.
But the light... it wasn't a flashlight. Call him an idiot, but Chance didn't think this town had any kind of fireflies that were that big either... or not ones that came in that color, at least.
"Hey!" He called before his brain could catch up, the word slurred and catching slightly between his lips.
Chance saw the shimmering rift almost bending outwards to swallow the guy, saw Will Byers' hand rise to meet it.
Wait, Will Byers?
He looked somehow scared, but in a weird way.
…That was the look on Chance's mom face the day before she vanished.
"Hey, byers!"
Chance dropped his half-crushed beer can and ran. It didn't occur to him to grab Will's hand, he just lunged and hooked his arms around Will's chest from behind, yanking him backward with all his weight and strength in a defensive move straight out of a poorly-remembered coaching drill.
Fortunately, the effect was immediate, the moment Will stepped back, the weird rift blinked out and closed immediately.
Chance, shocked, stumbled backwards with Will still locked in his grip, so they both hit the ground hardly as soon as Chance's drunk ass lost his balance.
Will landed half on top of him, an elbow digging into Chance's ribs. For a long, hot second, there was only the frantic sawing of their breath in the sudden, absolute dark.
Chance found himself braced on one elbow while his other hand was still fisted in the thick fabric of Will's jacket.
Will was hovering directly over him, close enough for Chance to see the wild, panicked dilation of his pupils, to feel the frantic rabbit-kick of his heartbeat against his own chest. Will's face was pale as moonlight, he had a smear of dirt on his cheekbone, his lips were parted in a silent gasp.
In that moment, Chance saw sheer, unadulterated terror in Will's face. And beneath it, a dizzying disorientation that mirrored the swimming in his own head.
Will saw Chance's eyes, wide, dark, and alarmed. His breath hit Will's face, warm and smelling faintly of hops.
They recoiled from each other as fast as if they'd just been electroshocked, scrambling to get away from each other. Will shoved at Chance's shoulder, pushing himself backward until his spine hit the tree trunk. He let go a sharp hiss of pain at that.
Chance rolled onto his back in the leaf litter, staring up at the stars while his heart hammered against his ribs. At the sight, the urge to puke finally overcame him, and he did just that, sobering himself up a bit.
Will just watched him, stunned, until he stopped.
They both looked at each other again, not even knowing what the hell just happened.
"Whoa, okay. You always that hands-on with guys who save your life, byers?" Chance broke the silence with a shaky laugh.
Will blinked.
Was Chance being homophobic to him right now?
All of Will's pent up emotions, and his own defensive anger, already white-hot from the fight with Mike and the gate's call, found a new target.
"What is your problem?" Will's said, shaking.
Chance sat up slowly. He was so dizzy, and when he ran a hand through his hair, he found a leaf stuck in it. He huffed at the absurdity of it all, now convinced it all had been a product of his drunk and traumatized imagination.
"What?" He processed Will's words. "My problem? What the hell is your problem? You realize you're in the middle of nowhere, byers?"
"I was just—" Will began, then cut himself off. "You realize it's the middle of the night? And that you're drunk?"
"First of all, I'm not drunk. I just had a few drinks." Chance replied. "And you didn't answer my question."
"Just..." Will looked at him, struggling to stand. Everything still hurt very badly from the burning of that demogorgon. "Just stay away from me. You shouldn't be here."
For a second, they just breathed. As Chance's swimming vision cleared, the details of Will came into sharp, sobering focus in the moonlight. The tear tracks cutting through the dirt on his cheeks, glistening, the raw scrape on his temple from the tree bark, the way his knuckles were white where he clutched his own arm, like he was holding himself together.
Will looked like a boy who'd given up.
Dread washed through Chance's gut, cutting through the beer haze.
"Let me get you home, at least." Chance said. "It's obvious that your attempt was frustrated for today, so you should just go and sleep it off."
...Attempt?
"You think I was trying to kill myself?" Will asked, barely able to hide the shock on his voice.
"Well, you're in the middle of the forest, all alone, at this hour, and crying... What am I supposed to think?"
"Maybe that there are things you don't understand," Will shot back, wincing at his own answer, but unable to stop himself. "Maybe that not everything is about... about high school drama or something. Maybe that it's bigger than that, and that you're just too drunk and too normal to get it."
The word normal was a lash. It felt like it was Will's turn to misunderstand and categorize Chance based on pure stereotypes of his self.
"Oh, well." Chance started, now as offended as worried. "Forgive me for giving a shit."
"I don't need your... your tragic rescue. Were you thinking about saving the sad art kid from himself? It sounds really heroic, doesn't it?" Will's voice dropped in that tone that even he knew was pure Joyce Byers, his mother's stubbornness. "I appreciate the... help. But don't get the wrong idea, I'm not interested."
Chance, still on the ground, blinked. His mind was still spinning about, but now it probably was from pure bewilderment.
Will had said it like he was turning down a prom date: Not interested. Don't get the wrong idea. Chance hadn't had the wrong idea, but the sheer, presumptuous dismissal of it, the way Will said it like Chance was some drooling jock who'd been dreaming of this moment but Will didn't like him, set his pride on fire. He scrambled to his feet.
"Excuse me? Interested? You think I was— what, making a move? While you were trying to kill yourself?" Chance let out a sharp, incredulous bark of a laugh. "God, your ego. I was saving your life, you weirdo. Not asking you to the damn starry ball."
Will's cheeks flushed crimson, but his chin lifted, his already stated stubbornness locking into place. He'd committed to the misinterpretation, and he'd die on this hill.
"Good, because the answer would be no."
"Yeah, yeah. I got it." Chance took a step forward. "You know, for a guy who apparently wants everyone to leave him alone, you sure draw too much attention."
"I'm not even continuing this conversation," Will said, his own voice rising to meet Chance's. "You want a thank you? Fine. Thank you. Now go away."
"No, no. Maybe I don't want your thanks," Chance added, closing the last bit of distance between them. They were all over each other's personal space again, highly off the original topic of their conversation. "Maybe I just want you to not be so damn... oblivious."
Will frowned, confused. "Oblivious?"
"And also all smug, acting like you're the only one who sees anything. You're not that special, byers."
Will leaned in, kinda straining his neck to look up at Chance. "I never said I was. So if you're not interested, and I'm not interested, then what's your problem? Why are you still here?"
The question was the heart of it. Why had Chance bothered? He could've walked away. He should have.
Chance had no answer, he had only a ringing in his ears and the infuriating, captivating sight of Will Byers, beautiful and utterly impossible, standing in front of him.
What was his problem, indeed.
"I don't fucking know."
Will made a sound of pure frustration, shoved past Chance with a brush of shoulders, and began walking away.
Chance didn't shout after him. He just stood there, watching him go. He was annoyingly baffled, and he was absolutely, undeniably, drawn.
God, his head was killing him.
As soon as Will was out of sight, Chance noticed the unsettling silence that'd been in that part of the woods all the time.
It was like there were no crickets or wind, or as if it hadn't rained at all. And in the center of that silence, was the rift Chance thought he imagined, just like a sealed black wound.
Chance frowned and stared into the empty darkness. The last of the drunken fog had burned away by now, replaced by some kind of sobering dread.
He had seen it, the weird light. And whatever it was, Will Byers had known about it.