Chapter Text
Week 1 of freshman year.
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The ghost loomed above him.
Its long, dusty talons reached down as red lightning split the sky behind it. Dark, swirling particles surrounded him, compressed him, suffocated him.
He screamed.
"Stop! It hurts... it hurts!" he cried as it cocooned him, pinning him in place while his body fought uselessly against it.
It felt like a thousand unwanted hands all over him.
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Will woke with a sharp gasp.
Cold sweat clung to his skin as he bolted upright in bed, hair sticking to his forehead, blankets strewn messily across the floor.
He really was going mad.
Planting his feet on the ground, he stood slowly. For a brief moment, he considered not going to school at all. What was the point? Staying home wouldn't make much of a difference.
"William Byers, hurry up! You need to get to school!" his mum shouted, knocking sharply on his door before rushing back toward the living room.
Will groaned and grabbed the first pair of scrappy jeans he could find, pulling them on as he dressed as quickly as possible. He slipped into his old, worn shoes and stepped out of his room, taking a deep breath.
He would leave those shitty dreams behind. Lock them away in that small, cruel box in the back of his mind. His days would be better if he just didn't think about it.
He walked into the kitchen to find Jonathan already ready to leave. His brother glanced over, eyes dropping to Will's jeans.
"You've got paint on your trousers, dude," Jonathan commented, slinging his bag over his shoulder.
Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I know, okay," he huffed.
"You're in a mood... as per usual."
"Whatever," Will muttered. He seriously didn't want to deal with people today.
He sat down to tie his shoelaces, the cold sweat still lingering on the back of his neck. The loose shirt he wore clung slightly, and as sunlight filtered through the old, yellowed window, the moisture shimmered faintly.
Jonathan watched him as he stood.
"Another bad dream?" he asked, more cautious now.
Will didn't respond, reaching instead for his bag.
"Will, you know you can talk to me—if something's wrong—"
Will pushed past him and headed straight for the door.
Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever.
"Do you at least need a lift to school?!" Jonathan yelled after him.
But Will was already on his bike, pedaling away.
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Will sat atop the lunch table that he, Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had claimed when they started at Hawkins High a month earlier.
The transition from middle school hadn't been too bad. They were still close, still tight, and honestly, Will liked the extra freedom. Even if it meant sitting on the table itself because the chairs were already falling apart.
"Guys! I saw a poster for a DnD club after school!" Dustin exclaimed, plopping dramatically onto the table. "We should join!"
His curly hair was a mess, his grin wide and excited. He seemed to be doing pretty well here.
"Huh? Oh, damn, cool," Lucas said, glancing up from his food.
"It's called Hellfire. It's in the old AV room and it starts next week. We should totally go—meet some new people!" Dustin continued.
Will chuckled, sharing a knowing look with Lucas while Dustin remained blissfully oblivious.
That was when Mike walked over.
Will glanced up—and it felt like time stopped.
Mike's loose waves were pushed back from his face as he smiled, walking toward them with an effortless kind of grace. Sunlight seemed to follow him, casting a soft glow around him.
"Will?"
Shit. He'd been staring.
Embarrassed, Will snapped his attention back. Mike had already sat down, bag tucked under the table, posture relaxed.
"Yeah?" Will said, trying to brush it off.
"You okay? You weren't, um... zoning out again?" Mike asked, gesturing vaguely.
"No, I'm good. Just thinking about something else," Will murmured. He didn't want Mike worrying. Not again.
Mike nodded and turned to the others. "So... what'd I miss?"
"Dustin wants to find babes at DnD club," Lucas said with a grin.
Will laughed. "Yeah, he's gonna impress them with his bard skills."
Dustin scowled. "You guys are really shitty, you know that? Really, really shitty."
Mike shrugged. "Dustin, my friend, the DnD club is not where you find a girlfriend."
"I just want to play DnD!" Dustin snapped, throwing his hands up. "You're all dickheads."
He huffed and slumped back down as Lucas added one last teasing comment. Will caught Mike's eye—
—and looked away too quickly, before his lips could curve into a flustered smile.
The bell rang soon after, and they dispersed to their classes.
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Math dragged on endlessly, Will clinging to the last threads of his self-preservation. History, at least, flew by.
He packed up slowly, hoping the corridors would thin out. Crowds made his skin crawl—people even more so.
After five minutes, he stepped out, moving quickly through the halls.
One second. Just one second.
Lucas suddenly ran up to him, breathless, sweat slicking his forehead.
"What? What happened?" Will asked.
"Dustin—" Lucas panted. "Got into—" another breath, "—a fight."
"What?!" Will wasn't shocked, exactly—but on the first day?
"Near the gym. Back way."
Will sighed. "You coming?"
"I'll catch up. Just need a minute."
Will adjusted his bag and headed around the school, heart pounding. He hoped Dustin was okay. This was supposed to be a fresh start.
He rounded the bleachers and saw Dustin slumped against the wall, Mike wiping blood from his face.
Will slowed, dread pooling in his chest.
Dustin's bag lay open on the ground, its contents scattered. His shirt was wrinkled, like someone had grabbed him too hard. A bruise bloomed across his cheek.
"Dustin, what the hell—"
"It's nothing," Dustin snapped.
Before Will could respond, Dustin grabbed his bag and stormed off. Lucas jogged after him.
Mike sighed and walked toward their bikes. Will followed.
"What happened?"
"Basketball guys. Upperclassmen," Mike said. "They heard Dustin talking about Hellfire. Didn't like it."
"Why does anyone still care?" Will muttered.
Mike shrugged. "Personal vendetta, maybe."
"Who did it?"
"Jason. I think."
"Well, they can fuck off," Will said, unlocking his bike.
They parted ways soon after.
Riding home was quiet.
Until Will passed a group of boys near the park.
"Oi, Jason! You beat that kid up real good!"
Jason laughed.
They wore Hawkins Tigers jackets.
Will memorized every face.
Jason. A buzzcut. A mullet.
And one boy who stayed quiet—tanned skin, arrogant posture, long hair flowing.
"That one's friends with the nerd," Jason sneered as Will rode past.
"Don't even play, Chance. Eddie's a fag."
Chance.
Will clenched his jaw.
He already hated them.
Pathetic.