Chapter Text
Will had always been a quiet kid. In fact, it was evident in his mannerisms.
Usually when he was focused, he would gesture to his friends to show it, whether it'd be a tilt of the head or a slight raise of a hand. Instinctively, a tongue stuck out in concentration, but that was more subconscious than a purposeful factor. When he was scared, he would keep his voice down, or even when it came to it, refuse to talk at all.
Sometimes, it even took hours for him to be able to open his mouth again.
He never initiated conversations. It was always better to wait for someone to talk to him rather than start a discussion that the other probably didn't care about. This was vital to Will, though. He always loved listening after all. It helped him learn how others managed to make friends and such.
Though he never really… used those techniques and mannerisms to meet new people. After all, he didn't need it. He had his friends, his mom, his brother…
And thankfully not his father.
In fact, Will had always been scared of speaking up in general because of his father.
Ever since he was young — around two when his mother tried to teach him how to talk — he had admired how people around him were able to be so… loud. It was interesting.
It was different when he tried to open his mouth, though.
It was bad when he talked.
Fall of 1975, when Will was four and his mom left to take Jonathan to a school meeting after he got in trouble for getting in an argument with another boy, Will was left home with his father.
Joyce wanted to take Will along due to the worry of Lonnie scaring him off. It wouldn't be the first time, after all, but Lonnie insisted he'd be fine and somehow convinced her.
This time was definitely different. And not at all was it better than the last.
Will was alone in his room, scribbling on stray sheets of paper on his bedroom floor. When he received a new box of crayons from 'Santa' (it was a suggestion of his brother's), he was ecstatic. Sure, it was a pack that costed less than a few quarters at Goodwill, but it meant something.
His father, on the other hand, hated how enthusiastic he was when it was handed to him. Will tried his hardest not to care, but for an at-the-time three year old, it's unlikely for him not to. So, of course, it affected him. That's why he tried his best to keep his interests to himself, hidden away in his safe place.
But of course, being a four year old in a house with an abusive father isn't going to be very peaceful, as much as we all could wish.
With the sudden noise of footsteps approaching, the young boy jolted up and began to scramble to gather the papers on the ground into a pile. Sadly, being a small child such as him didn't do him much justice, the door swinging open with few papers still strewn afar from the pile he managed to accrue. Will jumped and shakingly shoved the small amount he managed to put together behind his back, waiting for his father to say something.
"Hey." Lonnie's gruff voice spat out, staring at Will with his hand still on the knob. Will swallowed and didn't respond, looking at his father anxiously. Lonnie's eyebrows furrowed at the silence. "Answer me when I talk to you."
Will's teeth chattered as he opened his mouth slowly to respond. He managed to squeak out a soft "hi." The gaze on Will hardened and Lonnie scowled, slipping his hand away from the doorknob as he walked towards Will.
Will gulped, backing up slowly, grabbing at a stray piece of paper he hadn't been able to grab beforehand. If anything, it made the pile he was hiding much more visible, Lonnie noticing how quick he was to grab it.
Once he stepped closer, Will immediately caught the sickening scent of smoke and alcohol, causing him to wrinkle his nose. He hated that smell. It always meant Lonnie was going to be meaner than usual.
Lonnie leaned down and grabbed him by the shoulder so he could see what he had behind his back before ripping the pile away from his grasp, standing up and walking away once Will attempted to grab it back.
Will knew himself that he was too weak to fight it, so rather than asking for it back, Will quickly scrambled to his feet and rushed out of the room, holding his favorite crayon color of Goldenrod yellow, trying his best not to snap it from the pressure he put in grasping it. Will didn't know where he was running to, but all he knew is that he didn't want to be near his father. Not after he what he sees.
Will sprints towards his brothers room, lifting himself with his tippy toes to grab at the doorknob. Once he managed to open it, he dashed inside, quietly shutting it and lifting himself up to turn the lock. Hyperventilating, he drops to the floor and scrambles across the room until his back hits Jonathan's bed.
Will, not knowing how to manage this sudden surge of anxiety, tries his best to stare into the ground and wait for it to go away. It only got worse once the footsteps grew closer, Will's breath hitching as tears began to well up in his eyes.
"Will." The loud, all too familiar voice of his father yelled, causing the four year old to flinch. It started with a fumble of the knob before the sudden pounding on the door made Will erupt into tears. He pulled his knees to his face as he began to shake, sobbing into the soft fabric of his pajama pants.
"The fuck you doing in there?" Lonnie grumbled, the pace of the knocking increasing, each noise only scaring Will more. Each breath deepened as the yelling continued, dizziness capturing him as the room around him moved despite him staying in place. He tried to cancel out the words of his father, but he only got louder.
Then, Will began to hear ripping of paper.
"Next time, talk to me properly. Like an actual man. Not like the fucking sissy your mother's raising you as." Lonnie shouted, kicking the door with his foot before shoving the shreds of paper that were left of Will's drawings underneath the crack of the door.
Seeing the color of his favorite Goldenrod yellow crayon drawn out into a sunshine that he had scribbled onto his paper torn in half made Will yelp, his grip on himself tightening as he wailed.
Minutes passed, the pounding on the door subsided as the orange of the sunset shone through the window and onto Will's feet. Once he heard the noise of a fresh beer being cracked open from across the house, Will let himself go in relief, laying his hands to his side.
He looked down and saw his Goldenrod yellow crayon snapped in half as his bottom lip began to quiver right before he sobbed to himself once more.
The memory isn't his favorite, of course, amidst the rest of the memories with Lonnie. Especially when they come back to him and he relives them while he's in the middle of class and he ends up going silent for an hour or two. And especially when he's called on to answer a question. Inconvenient, right?
Once Will was done thinking over this achingly vivid memory, he grounds himself and finds himself in math class of all places. Will scoffs to himself bittersweetly, realizing how pathetic it was to be so caught up over something that happened when he was only four.
It was a valid thing to be shaken up by though, despite how much he reprimands himself for it. He purses his lips and huffs, looking around to soothe the shaking of his hands.
He steadied his breathing and looked around.
Name five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste. It was a classic method he was taught by his brother, who learned it from Nancy.
Will's breath hitched as he began to look around.
He saw… the trembling of his hands, first, of course. Second, he saw the blaring light of the sun shining through the window that illuminated Mrs. Vargas as she shouted about the factors of absolute values. Next, he spotted the girls in front of him gossiping and giggling to themselves. He clears his throat before ripping his gaze away so he wasn't their next victim. He looks down and sees the bitten pencil he's fidgeting with. Okay, cool. Four so far.
Will huffs and looks beside him only to meet the eyes of his best friend; Mike Wheeler. Mike quickly turns his head forward once they share a look, causing Will to quirk an eyebrow.
Weird.
Will shakes it off and exhales, looking down at his desk.
Okay, five, done. Jeez, did he have to do this?
Once he rethinks what he reminisced on before and his heart drops, he takes back that remark and begins to think on four things he can touch.
Okay, for one: the grooves of his bitten number two pencil. Two, the feeling of his foot tapping against the floor. Three, the left-over winter breeze from last month that somehow made its way into the school and caused him to shiver. Last, the gentle kicking of a shoe against his ankle.
Will quickly turned to meet the eyes of the person responsible — oh, it's Mike. Of course.
"You okay?" Mike mouthed, tilting his head toward the tapping Will had been doing for the past 15 minutes. Will swallowed once he realized and nodded, feigning a smile and looking back down at the pencil he was playing with. Mike didn't buy it, of course, knocking his foot into Will's once more. With a huff, Will slowly turned his head once again towards Mike. "Come on, dude. What's up?" Mike whispered as quietly as he could — which wasn't much.
Will scoffed and moved his foot away, leaning his head on the palm of his hand and staring at the teacher, acting as if he was listening.
Mike, as absent-minded as usual, tried to usher his foot closer to Will's even after he shifted away, only to be 'greeted' with the loud, booming voice of Mrs. Vargas.
"Michael!" She shouted, which immediately made Mike quit trying and jump, facing the elderly woman.
Clearing his throat, he sat up straight and managed to squeeze some words out. "Ah — yes ma'am?"
"Could you quit playing footsies and pay attention, please?" She spat out, hands on her hips like she owned the place. The tone of her voice made Will exhale tiredly.
"And William," Will jumped once she began to speak again, "would you be a doll and help us figure out this equation?"
Will opened his mouth, but nothing could come out. His throat felt closed completely.
Shit.
After a long awkward pause and the increase of eyes on him, Will slumped in his chair slightly and closed his mouth after many attempts.
Mrs. Vargas pinched the bridge of her nose and huffed, walking over to the door and opening it. "William, office."
The hell?
Well, great. He didn't even get to his favorite part: naming three things he can hear, which included the grating voice of an elderly woman on menopause.
Will felt his heart drop and, after a beat, pushed his chair back and stood out of it as he gathered his things, piling them together before getting up and staring at his feet while he stepped towards the door.
"Uh, miss?" Will halted at the sudden sound of Mike speaking up. "Could I go with him?"
Mrs. Vargas raised a brow, leaning on the wooden door. "You want to be in trouble too?" She questioned, almost scoffing.
"Yes." Mike deadpanned.
When the room got quiet, Mike decided to get up and push the papers he had on his desk swiftly off of the wooden surface, watching them float onto the floor. Few voices around them snickered, and of course, Mike decided to do more than he had to. "Fuck." He said abruptly, not in a way of realizing he made a mistake, but rather in a way to just say it to get it over with so he could leave.
"Fine, just — just go." She muttered under her breath, backing up and widening the space between her and the opening of the door as she gestured her hand towards the exit.
Giddily, Mike picked up the papers off the ground and stacked them messily onto eachother while grabbing his stuff, happily making his way toward the exit. He stopped himself, looking over at Will and waiting for him to leave first. Will scoffed playfully and exited, Mike following shortly after.
Evidently, Mrs. Vargas wasn't at all considerate of Will's behavior, despite the news about him and the overall mentality of the boy. He knew that once he made his way toward the office, they wouldn't do anything about it aside from let him off with a warning. A warning that never went past just that.
Though, with Mike with him, he wasn't sure how this would play out.
Mike rushed after Will, tapping him on his shoulder before walking next to him, occasionally bumping elbows.
Will tried his best to ignore him, but it was harder than he thought.
"Hey, uh, Will?" Mike finally spoke up once they were past the end of the first hall on their path to the office.
Will looked over at him, quirking a brow. The action — for some reason — caused the corners of Mike's mouth to tug into a smile, quickly deciding to avert Will' eyes despite the fact he was the one boring into his face in the first place.
"So, hey. Do you…" Mike pursed his lips, fiddling with the papers etched between his arm and his torso. "Do you wanna talk about what happened back there?" Mike managed out.
Will looked over at him and thought about it, clearing his throat to try to talk once more, but nothing came out. Will bit the inside of his cheek before shifting his things he held to his other arm, placing his free hand on Mike's.
Mike widened his eyes, looking over at him confusingly. Will slipped his hand under the palm of the other's, his thumb over the face of his hand before squeezing it twice, which usually was to signal him that he couldn't speak.
"Oh." Mike sighed out, looking at Will before smiling fondly. "Sorry, I — I didn't realize. Jeez, I should really be more used to this." Mike breathily laughed out, subconsciously rubbing Will's hand with his thumb.
Will's face flushed at the sudden change of contact before slipping his hand away, staring at the pace of his feet as they continued to walk down the hall.
Mike cleared his throat to interrupt the deafening silence throughout the halls before talking again. "When you feel better, would you… wanna talk about it? Unless that's too much, then it's cool, but…" Mike trailed off before shaking his head and checking Will's reaction. Will smiled softly and shrugged his shoulder, giving Mike the signal that he'll try. Mike mirrors his expression and nods. "Okay. Cool."
The rest of the walk was comfortably quiet, with Mike making a stupid remark every now and then that kept up the homey atmosphere of it all. Safe to say, when they got to the office, Will was let down easier than Mike, who had to come up with a written apology to Mrs. Vargas by the next day.
After an hour or two and the school day ended, the group — Will, Max, Mike, Lucas and Dustin — stood outside the middle school next to their bikes as they went over their day. As they talked, Will eventually felt better once his friends surrounded him and their laughter eased him into joining in their discussion.
Mike shot him a gentle glance paired with a soft smile when he heard him talk again. The interaction caused Will to lose his train of thought, swallowing anxiously and looking down.
"What were you saying, Will?" Will jolted slightly once Dustin spoke up, offering Will an opportunity to state his opinion on the new project Mr. Clarke scheduled to assign.
Will, on the other hand, couldn't remember what he was going to say, shaking his head with a small smile before remembering that he should just talk.
"Ah, um, nothing. I forgot." Will breathed out a laugh.
Max smirked and followed up. "Told you it's lame." She nudged Lucas who sucked his teeth.
"It's not that bad. You're just… not as into that kind of science as us." Lucas teased before receiving a playful shove from Max as the two began to bicker and attempt at a nerd-off.
As his friends continued to interact, Will watched them as he pondered.
It had been a few months since Max joined the group and a few months since Will had been possessed by the Mind Flayer. It's almost jarring how normal it felt now.
Of course, life had to move forward, but it almost felt too fast. Like life was leaving him in the dust.
Max was comfortable with them all now, aside from El who she seemed to have a rocky relationship with. Despite that, it was nice to see Max find her place. Will resonated with her, in a way, seeing how left out she had felt. He hopes that she and El can make up soon. They'd be good friends.
"Uh, Will?" Max murmured.
Will's expression shifted when he realized he had been staring at Max a beat too long, meeting her eyes. Max quirked a brow. "You're staring."
Her reaction wasn't anything rude, rather worrying, but it didn't stop Will from overthinking it.
The boy cleared his throat and nodded. "Oh, yeah, sorry. I was spacing out." Will mumbled, fidgeting with his hands.
Dustin's brows furrowed, looking over at Will before he questioned, soft spokingly. "Are you okay? You seem way more quiet today."
Lucas looked at Max and then to Will, raising his eyebrows before Mike walked over to Will, placing a hand on his shoulder and gently pulling him closer, their shoulders bumping together.
"Will was kind of out of it earlier. He doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Max." Mike's eyes dart to Lucas as he mumbles. "Or Lucas."
For a split second, Will swears he sees Mike sneer at Max, but he decided not to think too much of it.
"No, it's fine, I was just worried." Max added on, fidgeting with her braid, offering a soft smile at Will.
Will knew she had no ill intent, and he understood her worries. After all, most of what she knew about him was how he got kidnapped, died, possessed, burnt alive, and more.
Plus, her first interactions with the group weren't the best with both Lucas and Dustin fighting over her and Mike quite literally wanting to fight her. She's completely valid for having suspicions.
The group eventually brushed it off and Mike managed to change the topic, his arm still lingering around Will. The feeling it gave him was foreign. Weird.
Max noticed the strange glint in Will's eyes. Like she saw everything Will wanted to discard about himself.
Hopefully Max didn't get the wrong idea.
After a long car ride with Jonathan and a nice dinner with his mother and his brother, Will lay on his bed after a long day.
The days are only going to get longer, he thought, realizing it was only Monday. That doesn't matter though, of course, because as long as he has his friends by his side, the hours will be worth it.
As long as nothing like before haunts him again.
He most definitely jinxed it.
A yell escapes his mouth as he jolts up in a cold sweat, panting as he scrambles to shove the blanket off of him.
Will lets tears trail down his cheeks and onto the gentle fabric of his pajama pants as he sits up, gripping at his knees as he tries to steady his breathing like before.
But this time, it felt different. Worse.
Because it felt real. It felt so real.
This time, he wasn't just reliving a memory. He was being placed into a whole new situation. Something possible. Something that terrified him.
All he could remember was the banging of his bedroom door and the shouting of his father. He could remember the fear that jolted throughout his body once Lonnie actually managed to get inside, the crashing of the door making Will scramble backwards into the wall.
Lonnie was mad at him. He was disgusted with him.
And this time, he had his new drawings. Some torn, some crumpled, some waved in front of him as he was taunted.
Lonnie shoved a specific piece of paper in his face that happened to be a drawing from a week ago. When Mike asked Will to draw him.
It was a small sketch of Mike resting his face on his knee, smiling. It was detailed with such an advanced amount of effort visible. Mike swears that he felt like he sat there for hours because of how much time Will put into it. When Will showed it to him, Mike was ecstatic. It helped Will feel proud of his artwork.
The mood shifted when Mike spoke again.
"Dude, when you get a girlfriend, I know she'll love how much thought you put into your art." Mike paused, caressing his hand longingly over the drawing before looking back up at Will. "When you draw her, do you think you'll use this much detail for her?"
Will felt a lump form in his throat once he processed Mike's words.
When he gets a girlfriend.
For some reason, in this nightmare, a memory was planted into his brain. A memory that never happened yet convinced Will it had. He 'remembers' distantly; the jeers of his friends. The taunts of the school. The disgust of his family. The mockery of the town.
All of it piling onto each other like his sorry stack of drawings when he was four, except the weight dragged him down as it was forced upon his shoulders. He had to carry this weight that he tried so desperately to lift off and onto the ground for someone else to take, yet he could never truly place it on the floor. The weight on his shoulders hurt enough, that weight on his arms would only make him topple over.
"Yeah, why can't you get a girlfriend?" 'Lonnie' jeered at him, snapping him out of the memory. "Why don't you like any girls?" He spat at him once again.
Will's breath hitched.
The dream only deepened Will's resentment of himself when it came to love. He had always had a distant hope that he could grow older and fall in love, maybe even get to have his first kiss in middle school like the rest of his friends.
All Will wanted was to be loved, and not in the unconditional way his mother and Jonathan had to love him in, no.
In the way of feeling chosen.
But he knew that wasn't possible. Not with this sick thing inside of his heart that stopped any and all affection like that when it came to girls.
As the taunting increased tenfold, he knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that it wasn't real. That Lonnie wasn't back in his life, especially since Will knew he didn't want to be. But it didn't help.
Will tried to scramble backwards again, like if he tried hard enough, he could phase through the wall and leave.
But the shouting got louder. The mockery didn't end. The names didn't stop.
And he was still backed up against the wall like a dumb little kid.
Will quickly shook his head to let his mind know that he was done thinking about that dream.
As he hiccuped and hyperventilated, Will's throat felt completely closed. The thought of being reprimanded again for how he spoke to Lonnie just made him too terrified to even try.
It was stupid, but Will felt like if he said anything even remotely wrong, he would be yelled at again. He would be mocked.
He couldn't risk it.
As Will's sobbing deepened, the sudden noise of the door opening didn't help, causing him to scramble backwards into the wall, pushing himself against the hard surface. Just like a dumb, little kid. Just like in the dream.
Except this time, he was met with the worried eyes of Jonathan and Joyce, who immediately rushed over to comfort him.
Once his brother pulled him close into an embrace, Will tried to push him away until he realized that he was real.
"Hey, hey, Will — Will, it's okay." Jonathan whispered, holding onto him as tight as he could.
"Oh, baby, it's okay, it wasn't real. Whatever it was, it wasn't real. We're here." Joyce spoke gently as her voice cracked with worry, wrapping her arms around them both.
The comforting voice of the two only deepened Will's sobs.
After his breathing steadied, Joyce and Jonathan made their efforts to get Will to speak, to no avail. He couldn't tell them why or what or even who. He didn't want it to happen again.
An hour passes, and Will still hasn't managed a word out.
Joyce and Jonathan realize their best bet is to try to talk to him the next day and assure Will that he can wake them up anytime to talk.
Will knew of course, that that wouldn't happen anytime soon. Because again, he wasn't one to make conversations, was he?
The car ride to school was as quiet as it always was, but Jonathan tried.
"Hey, buddy," Jonathan murmured, "everything… okay after last night?" Jonathan offered a small smile to help Will ease into the conversation.
Will could only shrug in response, his face still turned toward the window at his right.
He always thought these episodes of Will's would always subside after a few hours, but it's been a whole night since it happened. Will still hasn't said a word.
Jonathan bit his lip, hoping it'll be over by the end of the school day.
Will's silence was evident throughout the day. In Mr. Clarke's class, when they would discuss amongst each other on whatever assignment they had, they would always try their best to include Will, whom today, just nodded along.
It was unusual for Will, but they knew soon he'll feel better.
Right?
Hours passed, and it was time for lunch. Dustin, Mike and Lucas went to get their food from the cafeteria as usual, while Max and Will only had their packed lunch.
Will fumbled with the sack lunch in front of him, tipping it over and letting the contents spill out; a ziplock bag with a sandwich, an apple, a can of orange Crush and a reese's. Yum.
Will sighed, pushing the sandwich and the apple back into the pouch as he picks up the can of Crush, popping it open and watching the fizz overflow considering how he let it tip over before opening it.
Max noticed the eerie quietness as she crunched on a Dorito, placing the crinkled up bag down before attempting to make conversation, wiping her hands with a napkin. "Hey, Will."
Will perked up, tilting his head. Max smiled and continued, taking it as a sign to move forward. "Hasn't Mrs. Vargas been such an asshole lately? I mean, seriously, no one is this passionate about variables to the point of yelling at thirteen year olds." Max laughs, fidgeting with her sleeve.
All Will could offer in response was a small smile and a nod, looking back down at the remaining fizz of his orange soda.
Max's smile faded at the lack of response before clearing her throat and proceeding. "So, um, that… Phineas Gage project. Pretty lame, right?"
Will looked up at her, quirking a brow.
Max quickly switched opinions at the reaction, evident that Will did in fact give a shit about it. "I — I mean, pretty… cool, huh? I mean, how does a guy not only manage to survive a rod through his skull, but also completely shift personalities? That's like a free lobotomy!"
Will smiles at the claim, breathing out a small laugh, but ultimately, he couldn't say much in response.
"Or, well, not really free — do you think they made him pay for the hospital bills or did he have, like, insurance?" Max offered up another opportunity for Will to speak his mind. To no avail, as when Will processed her words, he could only shrug in response.
Max noticed this, eyebrows furrowing at the lack of communication. She knew Will would have times where he couldn't talk a lot, but never were they this bad. Lucas did warn her to not talk about the stuff that happened to Will to him, but, she hadn't done that. Right? If so, she couldn't recall.
Max began to worry that she might have been the result of this. That he was possibly mad at her.
The girl swallowed nervously, rubbing her finger along the grooves of the tupperware for her food. She began to think over why this could be the case.
Before Will was picked up by his brother yesterday, he had been staring at her for a bit. Max didn't mean to upset him by pointing it out. It was odd, but…
Was that why?
Max pursed her lips before softly starting off her question.
"Um, hey, Will — "
A slam of a lunch tray caused both Max and Will to jump, scrambling to find the source only for it to be Mike Wheeler.
Max scoffs, rubbing her face, embarrassed at the fact that it scared her, trembling slightly. Will seemed to be on the same boat, his breathing unsteady. Once Max slowly removed her hands from her face, she noticed this immediately, his reaction feeling much too familiar.
Max bit her lip before slowly trailing her hand across the lunch table to tap Will on the hand.
Will swallowed, looking over at her, trying his best to maintain eye contact. That was, before Mike scowled at the sight and gently smacked Max's arm away.
"Jesus, ugh, fuck you, Mike. Asshole." Max spat, her tone much more bitter than usual. She glared at the mentioned boy, flipping him off as she waved her hand in over-exaggerated pain.
Mike, oblivious as ever as to why it had been so serious this time, scrambled for answers. "Wh — jeez, what did I do? It didn't hurt that bad."
Max rolled her eyes with a groan before turning to face Will again as she rubbed her hand. "Hey, you okay?"
Will paused at the sudden comfort before nodding slowly, pursing his lips. Max bit her tongue, knowing she shouldn't pry before they were interrupted by Lucas and Dustin making their way over to the table as well.
A conversation started and the moment was overshadowed by the noise, but Will couldn't help but feel terrible. He wanted to respond, he wanted to apologize, he wanted to do anything, but he just couldn't bring himself to.
Will could still feel Max's gaze of worry placed on him, and it only deepened his guilt.
Maybe soon he'll feel better and he'll be able to tell her everything.