Chapter Text
**It was the summer of 1985.**
The last day of school.
June 1st.
Fresh summer air drifted lazily through open classroom windows, warm but gentle, carrying the faint scent of cut grass and sun-warmed pavement. Outside, the sky stretched wide and endless, bright blue with clouds wandering slowly across it like they had nowhere important to be.
Inside the classroom, the world felt smaller.
Will Byers sat by the window — his usual spot — where sunlight spilled across his desk and warmed the sleeve of his shirt. The light caught in his dark hair, softening the sharpness of the room around him. Beyond the glass, the world looked alive and inviting. Trees swayed quietly. A car rolled down the street. Somewhere in the distance, someone laughed.
Behind him, chalk scraped faintly against the board.
His teacher was explaining the start of summer break — reminding everyone to be safe, to read at least one book, to come back prepared for the next school year.
Will heard none of it.
His mind was already far beyond the classroom walls.
Summer meant freedom.
It meant long bike rides under golden sunsets. It meant sticky hands from melting ice cream. It meant afternoons at the arcade with Lucas, Max, Jane, and Dustin — laughter echoing louder than the machines. It meant picnics in open fields, sketchbooks balanced on his knees, sunlight dancing through tree branches.
It meant possibility.
Will’s lips curved into a quiet smile.
He wasn’t a bad student — far from it. He was respectful, attentive when he needed to be, kind to everyone around him. Teachers liked him. Classmates didn’t mind him. He helped when asked. He listened.
But his heart had always belonged somewhere else.
To his friends.
To his mother.
To Jonathan.
They were his world — steady and bright and real.
And yet…
As he gazed out the window, watching people walk down the sidewalk near the school — couples strolling side by side, families crossing the street together — something tugged faintly at him.
A quiet feeling he couldn’t quite name.
He loved being with his friends. Loved the way they filled the silence with noise and jokes and shared memories. Loved the way summer wrapped around them like it belonged only to them.
But sometimes — just sometimes — it felt like he was waiting for something more.
Something just out of reach.
He dismissed the thought quickly, almost embarrassed by it. He didn’t need anything more. He was happy. He knew he was.
The breeze slipped through the open window and brushed gently against his face, lifting a few strands of hair from his forehead. It felt like a promise.
Will closed his eyes for a brief moment, breathing it in.
He was already planning what he would draw this summer — new landscapes, maybe something from his imagination. Dragons. Castles. Forests filled with shadows and light. He was talented; everyone said so. His mother praised every sketch like it belonged in a museum. Jonathan teased him, but in that proud, older-brother way.
His smile widened at the thought.
Somewhere in the background, the teacher’s voice rose slightly, addressing the class one last time.
The bell hadn’t rung yet.
But in Will’s mind, summer had already begun.
And he had no idea that this one would be different.
“Well, students,” the teacher said, setting the chalk down and brushing his hands together, “enjoy your summer vacation. I’ll see you all when it’s over.”
A wave of whispers and excited murmurs swept through the classroom.
One student raised their hand eagerly. “Sir! Where are you going for summer vacation?”
The teacher smiled, leaning casually against his desk. “Well… my wife insists we go to California this year. She says we deserve to see the ocean properly.”
“Ooooh,” several students reacted at once.
“There’s nothing like the sea,” the teacher added warmly. “Endless water, fresh air… it clears your head.”
“That sounds amazing,” one student said, and the rest nodded in agreement. California felt impossibly far and glamorous compared to Hawkins.
The teacher chuckled softly at their expressions. “Maybe one day you’ll all travel even farther than I ever will.”
He looked around the room — proud, fond.
They were good kids. His best class in years. They listened. They tried. They even surprised him with a cake on his birthday — candles and all — singing loudly and completely off-key.
He would miss them.
Before anyone could say more—
The bell rang.
Sharp. Final. Glorious.
The room exploded into motion.
Chairs scraped against the floor. Zippers zipped. Books slammed shut. Laughter echoed as students gathered their things and rushed for the door, summer freedom pulling them forward like gravity.
Will blinked, returning to reality.
He packed his bag carefully, slower than the others. Slid his notebook inside. Adjusted the strap. He wasn’t in a hurry — summer wasn’t going anywhere.
Soon, the classroom emptied.
Will stood and walked toward the door, the last one remaining.
He paused before stepping out and turned back.
“Thank you for everything, sir,” he said sincerely. “And… enjoy California.”
The teacher’s smile softened. “Thank you, Will. And you enjoy your summer too. Make memories with your friends.”
Will nodded, warmth blooming in his chest.
“I will.”
He stepped into the hallway.
Lockers slammed open and shut all around him. Students laughed, shouting plans over one another — beach trips, sleepovers, road trips, movies, freedom. Some rushed toward the exit, barely stopping at their lockers. Others lingered in groups, already beginning their vacations in the middle of the corridor.
Will didn’t blame them.
It was the last day.
Excitement hummed in the air like electricity.
He reached his locker and twisted the dial open. The metal door creaked slightly as he pulled it wide.
Books. Papers. A folded drawing tucked in the corner.
He started gathering everything carefully.
*Okay… let’s get you out of here,* he thought to himself.
Footsteps approached behind him — loud, familiar, chaotic.
“Will! Summer’s finally here!” Dustin’s voice burst through the noise, full of unstoppable excitement.
Will turned.
There they were.
Lucas, Max, Jane— all smiling, all bright, all already living in tomorrow.
“I know,” Will said, grinning back. “I’ve been counting down for weeks.”
Lucas slung his backpack over one shoulder. “So… arcade tomorrow? First official day of freedom. You guys in?”
Max smirked. “Sounds fun. Just don’t complain when I beat you.”
Jane laughed quietly beside her.
Lucas crossed his arms confidently. “You can beat me whenever you want.”
He paused, then added proudly, “Because you’re mine.”
Max’s smirk softened into something shy, and she nudged his arm. “You’re ridiculous.”
Dustin gagged dramatically. “Okay, okay, save it for the romance movie.”
Will laughed, the sound easy and real.
Summer had officially begun.
And none of them knew yet how much it would change.
Max and Lucas had been dating for six months now — ever since the day Lucas, red-faced and stumbling over his words, had finally confessed his feelings. Max had pretended to think about it for a dramatic five seconds before admitting she liked him too.
Since then, they’d been inseparable — teasing, arguing, but always standing a little closer to each other than before.
“Okay,” Will said, adjusting his backpack strap, smiling even wider now. “Tomorrow evening then. It’ll be cooler. Less crowded.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
Dustin clapped his hands together. “Perfect. I’ll gather my emergency arcade fund and see if my mom has anything to contribute to the cause.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “You mean beg.”
“I prefer the word negotiate,” Dustin corrected proudly.
“We’re all in, then,” Jane said simply.
They shut their lockers one by one and headed down the corridor together, their footsteps echoing as they joined the stream of students moving toward the exit.
When they finally stepped outside, the sunlight felt brighter somehow — freer.
A group of students nearby were tossing old papers and notebooks into a large trash can, laughing as pages fluttered in the air.
Without much hesitation, Dustin pulled out a stack of old worksheets and tossed them in dramatically.
Max followed. Lucas too.
Soon, they were all throwing in books they wouldn’t need anymore, laughing at the satisfying finality of it.
“What a great feeling!” Lucas said, grinning.
Will looked around at the other students doing the same thing. It wasn’t unusual. Everyone did it on the last day. It was a small ritual — a symbolic goodbye to homework, early mornings, and chalk dust.
“See?” Will said with a soft smile. “Everyone’s doing it.”
“Of course they are,” Max replied, brushing her hands together. “Freedom deserves a celebration.”
They looked at one another — and burst into laughter again.
When they were done, they drifted away from the trash can and toward the bike rack.
The metal frames clinked softly as they unlocked their bikes. They continued joking, bumping shoulders, arguing about who would win at the arcade tomorrow.
“Any plans for today?” Jane asked as they started walking their bikes toward the sidewalk.
Everyone shook their heads.
Honestly? They were exhausted in the best possible way. All any of them wanted was to go home, eat something good, and relax.
“I’ll come with you,” Max said casually to Jane. “We can cook something.”
Jane’s face brightened. “Hopper doesn’t mind,” she said. “He likes when the house smells like real food.”
Max smirked. “Good. Then we’ll make something that smells amazing.”
Max and Jane had known each other since kindergarten. They understood each other in a way that didn’t always need words.
Max was strong, protective, and fiercely loyal. If someone picked on her friends, she didn’t hesitate to step in — sometimes literally. There had been more than one kindergarten incident involving Max and a shove.
Jane, on the other hand, was kind and gentle — not always comfortable standing up for herself. But she never felt alone. She had Max. She had the others.
And that was enough.
Will had met them a little later — third grade — quiet and shy at first. But they had pulled him in without question.
Will had always been softer than most people expected.
Not weak — just gentle.
He was kind in the quiet way. Sensitive to tone shifts. Quick to notice when someone was hurting. He preferred peace over conflict, understanding over argument. If there was a choice between right and easy, he chose right — even if it cost him something.
Trouble made his chest tighten.
At school, if voices rose too loudly or a fight broke out in the hallway, Will’s first instinct wasn’t to watch — it was to leave. Even when he had nothing to do with it. Even when no one was looking at him.
He avoided chaos the way others chased it.
He loved learning, though — loved asking questions, loved understanding how things worked. When something confused him, he didn’t pretend he knew the answer. He asked.
Often Max.
Often Jane.
He felt safer talking to them about the things that tangled in his mind. He didn’t fully understand why, only that they seemed to *get* him. They listened without judgment. They didn’t laugh when he hesitated. They didn’t tell him to “man up.”
And of course — his mother.
Joyce had always been his safe place. Her belief in him felt unshakable.
But it hadn’t always been that way at home.
Before their father left, the house had been heavier. Tenser.
Will’s father had known.
And he hadn’t taken it gently.
There had been cruel words. Angry demands. A twisted idea of what a “real man” was supposed to be. He had tried to force that version onto his sons — tried to shape them into something harder, louder, meaner.
Sometimes that meant dragging them outside, handing them something they didn’t want to hold, and telling them to prove themselves.
Sometimes it meant raised voices.
Sometimes worse.
Will learned to stay quiet. To stay in his room. To draw. To make himself small enough to avoid attention.
He was afraid of his father — not because he was weak, but because he was young and didn’t understand why love could feel like punishment.
Jonathan had suffered in his own way too.
Their father had been harder on him — as the oldest, as the “example.” There were expectations Jonathan never asked for and punishments he didn’t deserve. It made him withdraw into himself, made him guarded and cautious.
Even later, when he left for university, that weight didn’t disappear. He kept to himself. He didn’t make friends easily. He didn’t talk about what he carried. He didn’t want to add to his mother’s exhaustion.
But things changed.
Joyce chose her children.
She chose their safety.
And when their father finally left, the house felt lighter — not perfect, not magically healed, but safer.
Years later, when Will finally told his friends the truth about himself — about who he was — his hands had shaken.
He had expected silence.
Distance.
Maybe disgust.
Instead, he got arms around him.
Max had squeezed him so tight he could barely breathe. Dustin had sworn loudly at anyone who would ever hurt him. Lucas had clapped his shoulder and told him nothing changed. Jane had simply said, “You are you. That is good.”
And Jonathan — steady, protective Jonathan — had told him, “You never have to hide again.”
Joyce had cried when he told her. Not from shame. From love.
“You deserve to live honestly,” she had said, holding his face in her hands. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Will still avoided fights.
Still chose peace.
Still felt deeply.
But he wasn’t alone anymore.
And that made all the difference.
Lucas had joined their circle two years ago.
At first, he’d simply been the new kid with an easy grin and a thousand ideas. But it didn’t take long for him to become something steady in their lives — the planner, the organizer, the one who always seemed to know what to do next.
Lucas loved making plans. Picnics. Arcade nights. Bike routes. Backup plans for backup plans. He thought ahead, not because he was anxious, but because he liked knowing everyone would have a good time.
When something went wrong, Lucas didn’t panic. He adjusted. Solved it. Found a simpler way around it.
He had a calm kind of kindness — the type that showed up without announcing itself.
And when the mood dipped too low, he always found a way to lift it again. A joke. A nudge. A perfectly timed comment that made everyone laugh even if they were trying not to.
People leaned on Lucas more than they realized.
And he never seemed to mind.
—
Dustin had arrived a year later.
First day of school. Backpack too big. Hair slightly messy. Smile uncertain but hopeful.
He hadn’t spoken much at first. He observed. Listened. Measured the room carefully before stepping into it.
But Will had noticed him.
Will had said, quietly but confidently, “He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met.”
And he’d been right.
Dustin’s shyness didn’t last long once he felt safe. When he laughed — really laughed — it was bright and contagious, the kind that made other people laugh just because of how genuine it sounded.
His smile had a way of softening people.
But beneath that warmth was a sharp mind.
Dustin loved history. Not just schoolbook history — real history. Objects. Stories. Ruins. Antiques. Forgotten things. He could talk for hours about old civilizations, rare artifacts, battles, architecture. He read constantly. Watched documentaries. Asked questions no one else thought to ask.
He wasn’t satisfied with surface answers.
He wanted to know everything.
Sometimes the others teased him for it — called him “Professor” or “Grandpa” — but they also listened when he spoke, because he almost always knew something useful.
Dustin’s curiosity was endless.
And so was his loyalty.
Once you were his friend, you stayed there.
-
"Okay, see you tomorrow evening around six?" Will asked.
Everyone nodded, then went their separate ways, except for Jane and Max, who headed towards Jane and Hooper's house, while the rest went home.
Will rode his bike down the quiet street, the tires humming softly against the pavement. The afternoon sun hung high above him, warm but gentle, and the wind rushed past his ears, tugging freely at his hair.
The world felt lighter somehow.
Tomorrow would be the first official day of summer vacation.
The thought made him grin all over again.
No alarms. No homework. No classrooms.
Just long evenings, open skies, and plans.
He had been thinking about this summer for months — sketching ideas in the margins of his notebooks, imagining arcade battles, bike rides, picnics, maybe even something unexpected. He wasn’t as outwardly organized as Lucas, but in his own quiet way, he had been planning too.
As he turned onto his street, the familiar houses came into view — the chipped fences, the cracked sidewalks, the trees casting long shadows across the lawns.
Home.
He slowed his bike as he reached the Byers’ house and hopped off, walking it up to the porch before leaning it carefully against the railing.
He opened the front door without knocking.
“I’m home!” Will called, shutting the door behind him and slipping off his shoes.
The house smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something warm from the kitchen.
He padded toward the living room.
Joyce was sitting on the sofa, flipping through a small stack of papers. When she looked up and saw him, her entire face lit up.
“Welcome back, love,” she said warmly.
She set the papers aside and stood up, crossing the room in a few quick steps. When she reached him, she knelt slightly so they were eye level and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, brushing her fingers through his soft brown hair.
Will didn’t pull away.
He never did.
It felt normal. Safe. Like something steady in a world that didn’t always feel steady.
He smiled softly.
Sometimes he felt like the luckiest kid alive just because she was his mother.
“How was your last day?” Joyce asked, studying his face the way she always did — like she was making sure he was really okay.
“Great,” Will said immediately, excitement slipping into his voice. “We’re meeting tomorrow — six or seven — at the arcade.”
His eyes brightened as he said it.
Joyce smiled at the way he lit up. “That sounds perfect.”
She stood and headed toward the kitchen, her voice floating back to him. “You deserve a good summer.”
Will smiles as he set his bag down beside the sofa and glanced around the living room.
“Where’s Jonathan?” he asked, already knowing the answer but hoping anyway.
“He’s not home yet,” Joyce called from the kitchen. “But he’ll be here soon.”
Will nodded to himself.
Jonathan was always busy — classes, work, something — but he never felt far away. If Will needed him, really needed him, Jonathan would drop everything. Whether it was to talk about a movie, complain about school, or just sit in the same room without saying much at all.
“Okay. I’m going to change,” Will said, picking up his bag again and heading toward his room.
“Alright,” Joyce replied gently, raising her voice just enough for him to hear. “And I’ll start cooking for us.”
The house felt quiet — but not lonely.
Will went to his room and closed the door, standing with his back to the closed door. glancing around his room. It was unusually neat — almost too neat — which meant his mother had been here in this morning.
He had cleaned it himself before school, of course. But his version of clean was never quite the same. Joyce had a way of straightening things that felt almost magical. When she cleaned, everything seemed lighter, softer, exactly where it belonged.
Sometimes Will tried to copy the way she moved — careful, deliberate, certain. He was convinced she carried some kind of quiet magic in her hands. The kind that could fix anything. The kind that could make everything feel right.
After a moment, he stepped fully into the room and crossed to his closet, setting his bag down gently on the floor beside it.
He crossed the room to his wardrobe, the wooden doors creaking softly as he pulled them open. The faint scent of clean fabric and summer air drifted out. For a moment, he just stood there, scanning the neatly folded clothes, deciding who he wanted to be for the rest of the day.
School was over. The uniform suddenly felt too stiff, too heavy — like it still belonged to a version of him that had been sitting in that classroom only hours ago. He reached for a pair of worn denim shorts and a soft, faded t-shirt, something light enough for the heat settling over Hawkins. After a brief hesitation, he nodded to himself and closed the wardrobe.
Slowly, he changed, peeling off the last traces of the school day. The fabric of the t-shirt brushed against his skin as he pulled it over his head, and the shorts sat comfortably at his hips — easy, familiar, his. When he finished, he stepped toward the mirror mounted on the wall. For a second, he simply looked at himself. Then he lifted a hand and gently ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back into place. He adjusted it slightly, studying his reflection as if searching for something he couldn’t quite name.
Satisfied — or at least close enough — he turned toward the window.
He walked over quietly and rested a hand against the frame. Outside, the trees swayed lazily in the summer breeze, their branches moving as though they were breathing. The leaves shimmered under the sunlight, casting shifting shadows across the yard.
Will tilted his head up toward the sky. It was wide and impossibly blue, the kind of day that felt full of promise. The sun burned bright but not harsh, and the wind was soft, warm, almost gentle against the world.
He loved days like this.
They felt like beginnings.
Will glanced toward his bedroom door, then made his way over and stepped into the hallway. The house was quiet except for the soft clatter of dishes and the faint hum of the stove drifting from the kitchen.
He followed the sound.
When he walked in, the warm scent of potato soup and fresh bread wrapped around him instantly. The windows were cracked open just enough to let the summer air slip inside, stirring the curtains gently.
Joyce was seated at the kitchen table, a wooden spoon resting in her hand, watching the pot as it simmered. She looked up the moment she noticed him, her expression softening into a warm, familiar smile. “There you are,” she said gently. “Come sit down.”
Will smiled back — small but real — and crossed the room to the table. He pulled out a chair and sat, his eyes drifting to the bowl of potato soup set out for him, steam curling into the air. Beside it, a piece of warm bread rested on a plate, the crust golden and inviting.
For a second, he just looked at it.
Simple things like this — the smell, the warmth, his mother’s quiet presence — made the house feel safe in a way nothing else could.
"Smells great, Mum," Will said.
Joyce smiled and walked over to Will, playfully patting his hair. "You say that every time, but I'll never get tired of hearing it."
He grinned, kicking his feet a little under the table as if he were still seven instead of seventeen. "Because it's always true."
oyce walked over to a chair and sat down- Just then, the front door opened slowly—Jonathan walked in, his college bag and camera slung over his shoulder, a tired but warm look on his face.
"Hi," Jonathan called softly, kicking off his shoes. "It smells good from here."
Will's face lit up instantly. "Finally! I thought you'd miss dinner again."
Joyce gave Jonathan a stern, mocking look as she picked up her spoon. "Late again? You're lucky this boy hasn't given up on you."
Jonathan smiled, and as soon as he entered the living room, he placed his bag and camera by the door and headed towards Will and Joyce.
Jonathan sat down in the chair next to Will, groaning with exaggerated annoyance, and put his arm around him. "Ugh, I feel like I'm being attacked. By both of you? That's not fair." He gave Will a light tap on the shoulder before stepping away to get a piece of bread from the basket. Will chuckled softly and leaned towards him for a moment before shyly pulling away.
Yes.
This is exactly what summer should be like.
Warm bread.
Family close.
And tomorrow... well... tomorrow friends are waiting for us too.
After they finished eating, Jonathan pushed his chair back and stood, running a hand through his hair.
"I need to pack up and throw away the things I won't use anymore since college's over," he said, smiling apologetically.
"That's good," Joyce replied warmly. Will nodded to his brother, and Jonathan disappeared down the hall to his room, the door closing quietly behind him.
For a moment, the house was silent.
Will began gathering the empty plates and bowls from the table, carefully stacking them in his arms before carrying them to the sink. Joyce was already there, sleeves rolled up, washing the dishes with steady, measured movements. "Will, honey, thank you for your help," she said gently, without turning around. "Just clearing the table is enough; it's already tidy. Why don't you go and relax for a bit? Do something to keep you entertained, okay?"
Will gave a soft hum, a silent "Okay, Mum."
He dried his hands with the kitchen towel and went into the living room, sitting down on the sofa. He glanced at the clock on the wall.
It was 7:40 p.m.
The sun was still shining through the windows, but it had turned shades of orange and gold, bathing the room in a warm light. Outside, the sky seemed soft and vast, like an evening that would never end. Will leaned back on the cushions and decided to watch a movie until he fell asleep—a recent film, maybe from 1984 or 1985. A simple film. A film that would allow him to forget his worries for a little while.
As the sun slowly dipped behind the rooftops of Hawkins, the golden light in the living room began to fade into softer shades of amber and rose. Shadows stretched along the walls, quiet and unhurried.
Will curled into the corner of the sofa, the remote resting loosely in his hand, and began flipping through the channels. The glow of the television flickered across his face as he scanned the options, hesitating over a few titles before finally settling on an old classic he’d seen once before.
He pressed play.
Suspenseful music filled the room, low and dramatic, and Will leaned back into the cushions, pulling one of the soft pillows closer to his chest. The world outside seemed to disappear as the story unfolded on the screen. For a while, there was nothing but the shifting light of the television and the quiet hum of the house around him.
Time slipped by without him noticing.
When the credits finally began to roll, Will blinked as if waking from somewhere far away. He stretched his arms above his head and stifled a quiet yawn, his body suddenly aware of how long he’d been sitting there.
He turned his head toward the clock on the wall.
Nearly 10 PM.
The sky outside the window had darkened completely now, the last traces of orange replaced by deep blue night.
Sleep was already tugging at him, heavy and persistent. Will switched off the television, and the living room fell into sudden quiet. The screen faded to black, leaving only the dim hallway light glowing softly against the walls.
He stood, stretching once more, and made his way toward his bedroom.
As he reached his door, Joyce stepped out of her room. She looked tired, her hair slightly messy, faint dark circles resting beneath her eyes — the kind that came from long days and too little sleep. “There you are,” she murmured gently. “It’s late, sweetheart. Go get some rest.” She reached out and brushed her hand through his hair, the gesture automatic and full of quiet affection.
Will gave her a small smile. “You should get some rest too, Mom.”
Joyce’s expression softened even more. She leaned down and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. “I will. Goodnight, honey.”
“Goodnight.”
She gave him one last look before turning down the hallway, heading toward the kitchen to finish whatever small task had kept her awake.
Will watched her for a second, then slipped into his room. He closed the door softly behind him and crossed to his bed, the familiar comfort of it waiting in the dim light. The room was dim, illuminated only by the soft amber glow of the small desk lamp in the corner. Shadows pooled quietly along the walls, stretching and shifting as the curtain stirred. Cool night air drifted through the open window, brushing softly against his skin. It carried the distant chirping of crickets and the faint murmur of voices from somewhere down the street — neighbors lingering outside, reluctant to let the summer evening end.
Will stifled another yawn as he crossed the room, his steps slow and heavy with sleep. He pulled back the covers and slipped beneath them, the sheets cool against his legs at first before warming under his touch. The pillow welcomed him easily, soft and familiar beneath his head.
The mattress dipped gently, cradling him in quiet comfort. He let out a small breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The air smelled of clean laundry and something else — pine, maybe, drifting in from the trees outside. It was a scent he’d known his whole life. Safe. Steady.
Will shifted slightly, settling deeper into the blankets as the sounds of Hawkins softened into the background. The world felt distant now, blurred at the edges, as sleep slowly began to claim him.
Will’s breathing slowly evened out as sleep finally pulled him under.
Morning arrived gently.
Birdsong filtered through the open window, soft at first, then brighter as the sun climbed higher. Golden light spilled across his room, stretching over the floor and creeping up the walls until it reached his bed.
Will stirred with a quiet groan, turning his face into the pillow before reluctantly opening his eyes. He pushed himself upright, rubbing the sleep from them as sunlight caught in his brown hair and warmed his hazel eyes.
He was just about to swing his legs over the side of the bed when the cordless phone crackled to life on his desk.
“Will, are you awake? Over.”
Lucas.
Will blinked, still half-asleep, and reached for the phone. “Yeah, I’m awake. What’s up? Over.”
“Well… the plan changed. We’re all meeting after breakfast now. Over.” Lucas sounded wide awake — too awake for this early.
Will frowned slightly. “Wait, what? I thought we were meeting at six or seven. After sunset. Over.”
“Yeah, I know,” Lucas replied quickly. “But Max called. She and Jane will be busy at that time so we moved it. That’s it. Over.”
Will pressed his lips together, thinking for a second. The sudden change felt strange — but not bad. Just unexpected.
“Okay… I’ll wash up, eat something, and then I’ll see you guys. Over.”
“Good. See you soon. Over and out.”
The line clicked off.
Will lowered the phone slowly, staring at it for a moment before setting it back down. The house was already awake around him — faint sounds from the kitchen drifting down the hallway.
He let out a small sigh and finally pushed the blankets away.
Then he stood up from his bed.
Will slipped out of his room and made his way down the hallway to the bathroom.
The tiles were cool beneath his feet as he turned on the faucet and water splashed onto his face. The chill of it chased away the last traces of sleep, leaving him more awake than he’d expected. He leaned over the sink for a moment, letting a few droplets fall from his chin before straightening.
Running his damp fingers through his messy hair, he tried to smooth it down — though he rarely listened. After a quick attempt at taming it, he reached for his toothbrush and brushed his teeth, staring absentmindedly at his reflection in the mirror.
By the time he stepped back into the hallway, he felt lighter. More ready.
As he walked toward the kitchen, a familiar scent drifted through the house — warm pancakes and sizzling bacon. His stomach responded immediately, reminding him that he had not eaten since the night before.
Will entered the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes one last time and suppressing a small yawn.
Joyce stood at the stove, flipping pancakes with practiced ease. The morning sunlight streamed through the window above the sink, catching in her hair and making the whole kitchen feel golden and alive.
“Good morning,” Will said softly as he walked over to the table.
“Good morning, darling,” Joyce replied, setting a plate of pancakes and bacon in front of him. “Did you sleep well?”
Will nodded, reaching for his fork. “Yeah. Summer nights are… refreshing.”
Joyce smiled at that. “They are,” she agreed, turning off the stove before joining him at the table.
They sat together in the gentle morning light, the kitchen quiet except for the soft clink of cutlery against plates.
“Where’s Jonathan?” Will asked after a moment, taking a bite of pancake.
“He left early for work,” Joyce answered. “Said he had a long shift today.”
Will hummed in understanding, chewing thoughtfully as the conversation settled into a comfortable silence.
—
When they finished eating, Will carried his plate to the sink.
“Mom, I’m heading out,” he said, stepping toward the doorway. “Sorry I can’t help more. My friends are waiting for me at the arcade.”
Joyce waved him off with a fond smile. “Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Go have fun, okay? And be careful.”
“I will,” Will promised, smiling back at her.
For a moment, the morning felt light and easy — like the kind of summer day that could stretch on forever.
Will grabbed his backpack from the hallway, slipping in a few quarters — just in case — along with a water bottle. He paused in front of the small mirror by the door, giving his hair one last ruffle before slinging the strap over his shoulder.
“Don’t forget your sunscreen!” Joyce called from the kitchen. Before he could pretend not to hear her, she was already walking toward him with the bottle in hand.
“Mom—” Will groaned dramatically, but he turned around anyway, lifting his arms as she sprayed a light mist over them.
“There. Now I won’t have to listen to you complain about sunburn later,” she said, satisfied.
“Bye, Mom. Love you!” he called, already backing toward the door.
“Love you too!” she replied.
The summer heat wrapped around him the second he stepped outside, warm but not overwhelming yet. His bike was right where he’d left it, leaning against the porch railing. He hopped on, pushing off
with one foot before pedaling down the street toward town.
The neighborhood was still quiet — sprinklers ticking in a few yards, birds flitting between trees, the world slowly waking up.
After a few minutes of riding, he spotted Lucas and Dustin outside the arcade, already mid-conversation and laughing about something.
Dustin noticed him first.
“Took you long enough, Will!” he called out.
Will grinned as he skidded to a stop beside them. “Blame my mom and her sunscreen obsession.”
Lucas snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Come on. I *need* to beat your high score on Dig Dug.”
Will raised an eyebrow, hopping off his bike. “Oh, you *wish*.”
They pushed through the arcade doors and headed straight for the machines glowing at the back. The air buzzed with electronic sounds and flashing lights. Dustin was the first to step up, sliding a quarter into the slot as Will and Lucas leaned in behind him, ready to critique every move.
“Where are Max and Jane?” Will asked, glancing toward the door.
“They’re on their way,” Dustin replied without looking up from the screen, fingers moving quickly over the controls.
“Max slept over at Jane’s last night,” Lucas added, watching Dustin’s game with focus. “So they’re coming together.”
Will nodded, leaning back against the wall as the sounds of the arcade buzzed around them — electronic beeps, coins clinking, machines humming.
Then about half an hour later, the door swung open, letting in a burst of sunlight — and laughter.
Will turned immediately. He would’ve recognized that laughter anywhere.
Max and Jane stepped inside, both dressed in bright summer outfits that almost matched — light fabrics, short sleeves, easy and colorful. The only difference was the shade. They each held melting ice cream cones, still laughing about something as they walked over.
Max and Jane made their way over, laughter trailing behind them. Between them, they carried three extra scoops of ice cream, carefully stacked and already beginning to melt in the summer heat — clearly intended for Will, Lucas, and Dustin.
“Look, guys,” Will said, nudging Lucas.
Lucas and Dustin glanced toward the entrance just as the girls reached them.
“Are we late?” Jane asked innocently, licking her ice cream.
“You’re *half an hour* late!” Dustin exclaimed dramatically — only for his game to make a loud buzzing sound as his character lost.
He’d stopped paying attention.
Max burst out laughing. “That’s your punishment.”
Jane giggled, and Lucas and Will joined in. Even Dustin rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop himself from laughing too.
Max and Jane handed out the ice cream one by one.
Will accepted his with a small, warm smile. “Thanks,” he said softly before taking a careful bite.
Dustin grabbed his dramatically. “You two are absolute heroes,” he declared, already licking melting ice cream off the side.
Max smiles proudly. “Obviously. Imagine what you’d do without us.”
“Starve,” Dustin said immediately.
Lucas rolled his eyes but grinned as he took a bite of his own. “Yeah, yeah. We’d be completely helpless.”
Jane nodded seriously. “You would.”
That only made everyone laugh harder.
“Alright let’s play,” Lucas said, sliding in to take Dustin’s spot and dropping a quarter into the machine. Everyone gathered around, some cheering, others laughing at the familiar chaos of their group.
“You won't get to the top, Max is already at the top!” Jane exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.
Max grinned, finishing her ice cream and resting a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “She gets me better than you do, Lucas,” she said, and both girls laughed as Lucas sputtered, distracted enough to lose a life immediately.
Dustin doubled over, clutching his stomach. “Wow, Lucas, you really let them get to you!”
“He didn’t even get half of what I get!” Dustin added, chuckling, and Will laughed along with him.
“Remember when I beat you back—” Lucas began, but Dustin cut him off.
“That’s ancient history! Look at the points!”
Lucas shook his head, still laughing, nudging Dustin’s shoulder. “I’ll get you next time, though.”
“Sure you will,” Dustin said with a grin.
“Okay, okay, my turn,” Will said, stepping forward and gently nudging Lucas aside. The others groaned and laughed, teasing as he took his place at the game machine.
—
After everyone had taken turns playing — cheering, teasing, arguing over high scores — they barely noticed the other kids in the arcade. It felt like the world had shrunk down to just the five of them and the glowing screens.
Eventually, Lucas stepped back from a machine with a sigh. “Well. I’m out of money.”
“Actually… me too,” Max admitted, checking her empty pockets.
“I didn’t have any money anyway,” Jane said matter-of-factly.
Max and Lucas turned to Will.
Will shifted slightly. “Lucas had more than I did,” he muttered, staring at the floor for a second.
Max gently bumped his shoulder. “It’s okay, Will.”
They all understood without saying it. The Byers family worked hard — Joyce and Jonathan especially — and money wasn’t something they wasted. No one made it awkward. Will smiled softly, the teasing warmth settling in his chest. Not because he was embarrassed anymore — but because *they* never made it feel like something to be embarrassed about. That was why he loved them.
Slowly, their attention shifted to Dustin.
Dustin looked back at them, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What?”
Lucas shrugged.
“You really think I still have money?” Dustin demanded.
The silence that followed said enough.
Dustin groaned dramatically. “I *paid* to play, you idiots.”
They all burst out laughing.
“We know, we know,” Jane said, grinning. “Poor thing.”
Laughter burst through the arcade again — loud, easy, bright enough to compete with the flashing machines.
Will leaned back against the Dig Dug cabinet, its screen still glowing with the final score — *his* high score, safe for now. Sunlight streamed through the glass doors, catching in their hair, turning the dust in the air to gold.
He memorized moments like this without meaning to.
They were talking and Will was gazing absently out the arcade window, a soft smile still resting on his lips from whatever joke Dustin had just made. The glass was warm from the summer sun, streaked faintly with fingerprints and dust, and beyond it the world shimmered in lazy afternoon heat.
He wasn’t really looking at anything in particular.
Until he was.
Leaning against the brick wall just outside the arcade stood a boy he had never seen before.
He looked about their age — maybe a little older — but taller, thinner. Almost too thin. His shoulders sloped slightly beneath a dark red ribbed sweater that looked far too heavy for July. The sleeves swallowed part of his hands, which were long and pale, veins faintly visible beneath skin that hadn’t seen much sunlight.
Black trousers hung loosely from narrow hips.
His hair caught Will’s attention most of all — long, frizzy curls of jet-black falling across his forehead and partially shadowing his eyes. The curls looked soft but untamed, like they refused to be controlled. Strands shifted slightly in the faint breeze, brushing against cheekbones that were sharp and delicate.
His face was pale — not sickly exactly, but almost unreal. Like something that belonged more in moonlight than in summer daylight.
Dark circles sat beneath his eyes, deep and unmistakable.
*Does he even know what food and sleep are?* Will thought unconsciously.
The boy lifted a cigarette to his lips, inhaling slowly. Smoke curled around his face, soft and ghostlike, before drifting upward and dissolving into the bright air.
*Why is he wearing winter clothes when it’s summer?*
*Does he know how long the heat lasts here?*
Will didn’t realize how long he’d been staring.
There was something about him — something quiet and separate. While everyone else outside walked in pairs or groups, laughing or talking, this boy stood alone. Not awkwardly. Not nervously.
Just… apart.
And then—
*Is he looking at me?*
Will’s breath caught.
The boy’s gaze had shifted.
He wasn’t staring at the building.
He was staring at Will.
*Shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit shit*
Their eyes met through the slightly smudged glass.
The boy didn’t look surprised. Didn’t look embarrassed at being caught. Instead, something flickered in his expression — something playful. Curious. Almost mischievous. Like a child who had just unwrapped a present and found something unexpected inside.
Or like he knew something Will didn’t.
Will’s heart thudded once, hard enough that he felt it in his throat.
Heat rushed to his face.
The boy's smile was like sugar.
Will quickly looked away, pretending to adjust his sleeve, his pulse suddenly loud in his ears.
*Fuck*
Behind him, his friends’ voices rushed back into focus — Dustin arguing about something, Max laughing, Lucas insisting he was right, Jane saying something blunt and honest that made them all groan.
The normal noise of the arcade swallowed him again.
But even as he forced himself to look at the Dig Dug screen — even as he nodded at whatever Lucas was saying — he could feel it.
That gaze.
Still there.
Smoke curled lazily from the cigarette between his fingers, twisting through the warm air like whispered secrets. His lips twitched — not quite a smile, but almost. Almost enough to mean something.
Like he *knew*.
Like he had felt Will’s stare the entire time and had simply been waiting for him to notice.
Will’s throat tightened.
The noise of the arcade behind him suddenly felt too loud — coins clinking, machines buzzing, laughter echoing. The world inside was bright, flashing, alive.
But outside?
Outside felt slower. Quieter. Sharper.
That boy didn’t seem like he belonged in any of it. Not in the sunshine flooding the pavement. Not in the easy laughter spilling from the open doors. Not even in Hawkins itself.
He looked like something that had stepped in from a different season entirely.
Or a different story.
Will swallowed and shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to ground himself. His palms felt clammy. He suddenly became aware of everything — the way his shirt stuck slightly to his back, the hum of the lights above him, the way his heart seemed just a little too loud in his ears.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
Still watching.
Still smiling.
“Yo, Will.”
Max snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Earth to Will — you zoning out?”
Will blinked hard, tearing his eyes away like he’d touched something hot.
“Huh? Oh — no! I’m here,” he said too quickly, pushing a hand through his hair as if that would reset him. “I was just… thinking.”
Dustin narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “That’s never a good sign.”
Lucas followed Will’s earlier line of sight, curiosity flickering across his face.
But by the time they looked—
The space by the brick wall was empty.
No dark red sweater.
No pale hands.
No jet-black curls falling over shadowed eyes.
Just a faint trail of smoke dissolving into the heavy summer air.
And nothing else.
“Uh…” Lucas said slowly, glancing back at Will. “You okay?”
Will forced a grin that felt just a little too tight at the edges.
“Yeah,” he said.
A beat.
“Totally.”
Jane gave him a small, concerned smile. “We were going to the park near my house as we planned like a min ago, remember? But if you’re not feeling well, Will… we can go to your place instead. You can rest.”
Will blinked, realizing they were all looking at him now.
He hadn’t meant to drift that far away.
“No—no, I’m fine,” he said quickly, straightening a little, like he was snapping himself back into place. “Let’s go to the park....Like we planned....”
Max studied him for half a second longer than the others, then nodded.
“Okay,” she said gently, patting his shoulder. “Park it is.”
Will smiled back — softer this time, more convincing.
Dustin was already launching into some dramatic speech about how he was *definitely* not jumping first off the dock, and Lucas immediately challenged that statement. Jane listened with quiet amusement, walking beside Max as the group started moving.
Will fell into step with them.
The group moved toward the exit in a noisy cluster. The bell above the glass door rang out as they pushed through, the sound sharp against the arcade’s electric hum. A wave of warm air met them as they spilled out onto the sidewalk.
They stepped out into the sun.
The air felt thicker.
The sunlight harsher.