Chapter Text
Summer - 1985
The Byers family arrived in Hawkins at the beginning of summer, when the landscape was deep green and buzzing with life. Their rundown car rumbled down a narrow dirt road lined with towering trees that stretched endlessly on both sides, branches bending overhead like a tunnel swallowing them whole.
The farther they drove, the quieter it became.
No sirens. No crowded sidewalks. No glow of city lights bleeding into the night sky like back in California.
Only the rustling of leaves, birds chirping somewhere deep in the woods, and the endless hum of insects vibrating through the thick afternoon heat.
Will sat quietly in the backseat, forehead pressed against the warm car window as the unfamiliar scenery passed by in blurred shades of green. Every mile felt like they were driving farther away from everything he knew.
From home.
The air even feels different here, heavier somehow drenched in sunlight and summer humidity. Dust kicked up behind the car as they passed faded mailboxes, abandoned barns, and long stretches of forest that seemed untouched by time.
Jonathan sat beside him with headphones hanging around his neck, occasionally glancing out the window with the same uncertain expression Will probably had himself.
Meanwhile, Joyce kept talking from the front seat, trying a little too hard to sound optimistic.
“It’ll be good for us,” she insisted. “More space. Fresh air. A fresh start.”
Will didn’t answer.
Outside, the trees only grew thicker. And somewhere deep in the woods surrounding Hawkins, hidden beneath the summer heat and cicada songs, something unseen waited patiently.
Their new house – for the time being - sat alone at the edge of a wide clearing, surrounded on nearly every side by forest. The paint was faded, the porch old but sturdy, and the yard stretched farther than anything they’d ever owned in the city. Wildflowers grew along crooked fences, and tall grass swayed lazily in the warm wind. Beyond the backyard stood a wall of trees so dense and shadowed it almost looked untouched.
Everything felt unfamiliar. The silence made every creak of the house noticeable.
To Joyce, it was peaceful. A fresh start. Space to breathe.
To the Jonathan and Will, especially Will - it felt like stepping into another world.
The nearest neighbors lived miles away, hidden behind trees and gravel roads. There were no apartment buildings, no corner stores, no traffic outside their bedroom windows. Just endless forest, winding paths, and the strange feeling that the woods were always watching quietly from the edges of the property.
Will heaved a sigh as he set the heavy box down inside his temporary room. Dust stirred into the warm summer air as he looked around.
“Not bad,” he muttered out loud.
The room was old and a little worn down, but it had space. A narrow bed sat against one wall, and sunlight poured through the tall window beside it, casting golden streaks across the wooden floorboards. It just needed some cleaning. Besides, it wasn’t like he’d be staying here forever.
“Hey, bud.”
Jonathan leaned against the doorway, one hand resting on the frame as he looked inside the room.
“How’s it look?” he asked. “You wanna switch with me?”
“Nah,” Will said as he crouched beside one of the boxes and pulled it open. “I’m good here.”
He glanced toward the window and smiled faintly.
“I like the view from here,” he continued. “The lighting is nice for sketching.”
Outside, the woods swayed gently in the evening breeze, leaves glowing bright green beneath the setting sun.
“Oh. Okay.” Jonathan gave a small nod before coughing into his sleeve. “Well… I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything.”
“Got it.”
Jonathan lingered for half a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, then turned and walked down the hallway. His footsteps creaked against the old floorboards before fading into silence.
He unpacked slowly, pulling his things from the half-open boxes one by one. A few wrinkled shirts, jeans, shorts and hoodies despite the heat, headphones tangled around his Walkman. Not much. He hadn’t bothered bringing most of his stuff from California anyway.
There was no point.
They’d be back before summer ended. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
The last thing he pulled out was his sketchbook, its corners worn soft from being carried everywhere. He set it carefully on the desk beside the window, where warm evening light spilled across the room. Outside, trees stretched endlessly beyond the yard, their branches swaying in the heavy summer air.
It looked nothing like home.
Here, the silence pressed against the walls. Even the air smelled different - pinewood, dirt, and something damp drifting from the woods nearby.
He glanced out the window again. The forest stood motionless now in the fading light, darkening little by little as the sun disappeared behind the trees.
For a moment, he felt strangely small here.
Then voices echoed downstairs as his mom unpacked, breaking the stillness. He sighed, dropped onto the bed, and flipped open his sketchbook, hoping the familiar scratch of pencil on paper would make this place feel temporary.
---
Evening eventually settled over the house, bringing cooler air through the open windows and long shadows across the wooden floors. The golden sunlight from earlier had faded into a dim orange glow behind the trees.
Will finally gave up pretending to unpack.
There wasn’t much left to do anyway.
He sighed and pushed himself off the bed, heading downstairs to see if his mom needed help with dinner or unpacking. The old staircase creaked beneath every step, the sound echoing through the quiet house.
The kitchen smelled faintly of cardboard boxes, dust, and something cooking on the stove. His mom stood near the counter unpacking plates while soft music crackled from a tiny radio beside her.
“There you are,” she said without looking up. “Thought you disappeared already.”
“Almost did,” Will muttered jokingly.
She laughed softly. “That bored already?”
“A little.”
He wandered toward the sink and glanced out the kitchen window. Outside was nothing but trees, darkening slowly as the sun disappeared completely.
Back in California, evenings felt alive — people outside, headlights passing, televisions through apartment windows, noise everywhere.
Here, it felt like the whole world went quiet after sunset.
“You could explore tomorrow,” his mom suggested as she stacked dishes into a cabinet. “Maybe there’s a lake nearby or trails.”
“Maybe.”
Will leaned against the counter, still unconvinced. The woods looked bigger at night somehow, stretching endlessly beyond the backyard.
“And maybe you could meet some new friends?” his mom suggested hopefully.
“Maybe”
Will shrugged, though the idea sounded impossible out here.
His mom gave him a small smile anyway, like she was trying hard to believe this temporary move would be good for all of them.
“You never know,” she said. “There might be kids your age nearby.”
“Yeah,” Will replied absentmindedly.
Back in California, Will only really had one friend - Rosa Diaz. And honestly, he considered himself lucky for even having that.
He wasn’t exactly the kind of person people naturally approached. He stayed quiet most of the time, kept his head down in class, and usually preferred sketching alone over talking to strangers. Rosa had been the one to start talking to him first, and somehow she never stopped.
She filled silences easily enough for the both of them. So when his mom mentioned making new friends out here, Will seriously doubted it would happen. Not in a place like this. Not surrounded by miles of trees and strangers hidden behind gravel roads.
His mom seemed to notice but didn’t push further. She simply brushed past him to continue unpacking kitchen supplies while humming softly to the radio.
“So… it’s summer,” his mom said, clearly trying to change the subject.
Will glanced over at her.
“Your hair…” She pointed gently toward him before hesitating. “Do you maybe want to get it cut?”
The question caught him off guard. Almost.
He lowered his eyes to the floor, chewing lightly on his bottom lip as his fingers instinctively reached for a strand of brown hair falling past his shoulders, nearly to the middle of his back.
He knew this conversation would happen eventually. He just hadn’t expected it this soon.
Will kept his hair long for almost a year that it had become part of him, something familiar and safe. Still, he knew people noticed it. Boys weren’t really supposed to have hair this long — at least, that’s what people liked to remind him.
Back in California, classmates had stared sometimes. A few laughed and throw crude jokes. Others asked if he was trying to look like a girl.
Will usually just stayed quiet and ignored them.
Rosa once told him it suited him, and somehow that mattered more than everyone else combined.
“It’s fine,” Will muttered after a moment, still twisting the strand of hair between his fingers. “I like it long.”
His mom’s expression softened immediately.
“Okay,” she said gently. “I was only asking.”
Will nodded, relieved she didn’t push further.
Outside, wind rustled through the trees again, brushing softly against the windows like fingertips. The old house creaked around them while the porch light flickered one more time.
Will looked toward the dark kitchen window, seeing only his reflection staring back at him now — pale face, tired hazel eyes, long brown hair falling over his shoulders.
For some reason, in this house, he suddenly felt more noticeable than ever.
---
The next afternoon was unbearably hot.
Sunlight blazed over the countryside, turning the gravel roads pale white beneath the heat. The air itself felt heavy and unmoving, thick with the smell of dry grass, pine, and warm earth.
Despite that, Will still kept his promise to his mom. He was going to “explore.”
Mostly because there was absolutely nothing else to do. After wandering around the property for a while, he found an old bike buried beneath piles of junk inside the shed. Dust coated the frame, one handlebar grip was torn, and the tires looked half-dead, but after pumping some air into them, it worked well enough. Good enough for sightseeing, anyway.
Will rode slowly down the long dirt road leading away from the house, the bike rattling beneath him with every bump and crack in the ground.
Sweat clung to the back of his shirt almost immediately, the summer heat pressing against him from every direction. Even the wind from riding the bike felt warm. His bangs stuck damply to his forehead, strands of brown hair clinging to his cheeks and neck. It was unbearable. Eventually, with an annoyed sigh, he slowed the bike and stopped beneath the shade of a large tree by the roadside.
“Seriously…” he muttered under his breath.
He pushed the damp hair away from his face, fingers combing through the long strands falling over his shoulders and down his back. The humidity made it feel even heavier than usual.
Unable to deal with it any longer, Will pulled the loose hair tie from around his wrist and gathered his hair back into a ponytail. A few strands still escaped around his face, but at least the heat against his neck eased slightly. The moment the breeze touched the back of his skin, he let out a quiet breath of relief.
Better.
He leaned against the handlebars for a second, catching his breath. Sunlight filtered through the leaves above him, flickering across the dirt road and the endless trees surrounding it.
Out here, there was nobody to stare. Nobody to make comments about his hair. Just him, the heat, and the quiet countryside stretching endlessly ahead.
Will biked farther down the road until the quiet woods finally opened into a more crowded area. A cul-de-sac curved at the end of the road, surrounded by modest houses with wide porches, bicycles tossed across lawns, and sprinklers clicking across patches of yellowing grass. A few small establishments stood nearby — a convenience store, an old diner, and a tiny hardware shop with faded paint peeling from the sign.
The place buzzed softly with summer life.
Kids rode skateboards down the pavement while someone blasted music from an open garage. Dogs barked lazily from fenced yards, and the smell of barbecue drifted through the humid air.
Will slowed his bike, taking everything in. Then he spotted the playground. It sat near the center of the cul-de-sac park, surrounded by tall trees that cast long shadows over the grass. A few kids were running around the monkey bars while others climbed the old jungle gym, their laughter carrying through the hot afternoon air.
Beneath one of the large trees stood an old swing set. The shade alone looked inviting.
Will rolled his bike across the grass and dropped it carefully beside the tree before sitting down on one of the swings. The metal chains creaked softly as he leaned back with a tired sigh.
Finally.
A breeze stirred through the leaves overhead, cooling the sweat still clinging to his forehead and neck. His ponytail rested over one shoulder now, slightly messy from the ride.
He pushed himself lightly with one foot, swinging back and forth while watching the neighborhood around him.
This was probably the first place since arriving that didn’t feel completely isolated. It almost reminded him of normal life again.
Then, from somewhere nearby, he heard someone say - “Hey, I’ve never seen you around before.”
Will looked up from the swing.
A tall, lanky boy stood a few feet away from him, blocking part of the sunlight filtering through the trees. He had dark curly hair that fell into his dark eyes and an unreadable expression somewhere between curiosity and suspicion as he looked Will over.
Almost like he was assessing him. Will immediately felt heat creeping into his face.
Without thinking, his hand moved to his ponytail, fingers brushing nervously against the loose strands of long hair near his shoulder. He looked away quickly, focusing instead on the dirt beneath his shoes as the swing swayed faintly back and forth.
The silence stretched awkwardly. Up close, the boy looked around his age, all long limbs and wearing a faded T-shirt dampened by the summer heat.
“You new here?” the boy asked finally.
Will nodded once.
“Just for vacation.” His voice came out quieter than he intended.
The boy hummed softly, still staring for a second longer before glancing toward the bike lying in the grass nearby.
“From where?”
“California.”
That seemed to catch the boy’s attention a little. His eyebrows lifted slightly.
“Seriously?”
Will shrugged awkwardly.
The swing chains creaked again as he shifted uncomfortably beneath the boy’s gaze. He could already feel the familiar nervousness building in his chest - waiting for the questions, the staring, maybe even comments about his hair.
Instead, the boy tilted his head slightly and said - “California sounds cooler than this place.”
Will smiled a little at the comment, small but genuine.
“Yeah,” he admitted softly. “It kinda is.”
To his surprise, he could feel some of the tension leaving his shoulders. The boy didn’t sound mocking or rude - just honest. And for a moment, Will realized he wasn’t waiting for him to laugh or make some weird comment.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all. He watched quietly as the lanky boy stepped closer and dropped onto the swing beside him. The chains groaned loudly under the sudden weight as he pushed himself off the ground with long legs.
For a few seconds, the two of them simply swung beside each other beneath the shade of the trees while children shouted in the background.
“I’m Mike,” the boy said eventually, slowing his swing slightly with his shoes dragging against the dirt.
Will glanced at him from the corner of his eye. But he stayed quiet. His fingers tightened slightly around the cold metal chains of the swing as he kept his eyes fixed on the dirt beneath his shoes. He still wasn’t sure if he was ready to give his name to a complete stranger yet. Even if Mike seemed nice enough.
Will had never been good at talking to people this quickly. Back in California, Rosa usually carried conversations for him whenever things got awkward.
The silence stretched just long enough to become noticeable. Mike glanced sideways at him before leaning back slightly on the swing.
“So what made your family decided to come all the way out here from California?” he asked instead, clearly changing the subject to ease the awkwardness.
Will felt some of the tension leave his chest at that. He shrugged faintly. “My mom wanted a fresh environment, I guess.”
“That means adult problems.” Mike replied immediately.
The bluntness of the answer caught Will off guard enough to make him snort quietly under his breath.
Mike grinned a little at that, seeming pleased with himself.
The breeze picked up around them, rustling the leaves overhead and lifting loose strands of Will’s ponytail. For the first time since arriving in town, the silence didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore.
It just felt… quiet. Then Mike noticed the sketchbook poking slightly out of Will’s backpack near the bike.
“You draw?” he asked.
Will blinked, surprised the boy had noticed it at all. He followed Mike’s gaze before shrugging as casually as he could.
“A little.”
Mike snorted softly. “That usually means you’re actually good.”
Will looked down at his shoes again, one foot dragging lightly through the dirt beneath the swing.
“I just draw when I’m bored.”
“Which is probably a lot out here.”
That earned another small smile from Will.
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Can I see?” Mike asked
Will hesitated. His fingers tightened again slightly around the swing chain as he glanced toward the sketchbook peeking his backpack. Most people had never really asked to see his drawings before except his family and Rosa. Usually, they either ignored them completely or made fun of how often he carried the sketchbook around. Mike, though, sounded genuinely curious.
“Aren’t you supposed to say please first?” Will muttered quietly before he could stop himself.
For a second, Mike looked surprised. Then he laughed.
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up dramatically. “Can I please see your mysterious artist sketchbook?”
Will felt himself smiling again despite the warmth creeping into his face.
Slowly, he got up from the swing and walked over to his bike. He pulled the worn sketchbook from his backpack carefully, almost protective of it, before returning to the swing beside Mike.
Will glanced down at the sketchbook resting in his lap. Suddenly realizing how ridiculous this whole situation was. He couldn’t believe he was somehow okay with showing Mike his sketchbook - pages filled with his personal drawings - but still hesitated to give him his actual name.
That probably made no sense. The thought made Will quietly cringe to himself.
Beside him, Mike continued lazily rocking on the swing, seemingly unbothered by the fact that the conversation had moved on without introductions. Like he’d decided not to push it.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Mike added, his voice less teasing now.
Most of the pages were filled with random things. City streets back in California crowded with cars and neon signs. Comic characters sketched into the corners of pages during boring afternoons. Trees outside his bedroom window swaying in the wind.
There were also drawings of people. A rough portrait of Jonathan asleep on the couch with his mouth half-open. His mom standing in the kitchen, distracted while cooking dinner. Rosa sitting cross-legged on the floor doing homework, completely unaware she was being drawn. Little moments nobody else probably would’ve noticed.
Mike turned another page carefully, quieter now than before.
“You drew all these?”
Will nodded slightly, suddenly feeling self-conscious again.
“Mostly when people aren’t paying attention.”
“That’s kinda creepy,” Mike joked lightly.
Will’s stomach dropped for half a second before he noticed the grin tugging at the corner of Mike’s mouth.
“…Oh.”
Mike laughed softly. “I’m kidding.”
Will let out a quiet breath, embarrassed at how quickly he believed him. Still, Mike kept staring at the sketches with genuine interest.
“These are seriously good,” he said. “Like… scary good.”
Will looked down at the open sketchbook resting between them, fingers brushing nervously along the edges of the paper.
Nobody besides his friend and family had ever really cared much about his drawings before. The realization made his chest feel strangely warm.
Their conversation drifted into the most random topics after that.
It started with comics after Mike spotted one of the doodled superhero sketches in Will’s sketchbook. Then somehow it turned into movies, which turned into music, which somehow led into arguing over which book endings were terrible and which ones were actually good.
Surprisingly to both of them they shared a lot of the same interests.
“You seriously read that series?” Mike asked, looking genuinely shocked.
Will shrugged from his swing. “Yeah. My friend made me borrow the first book and then I got addicted.”
“No way,” Mike laughed. “Nobody here reads those.”
“Well, apparently two people do.”
Mike grinned at that before kicking off the dirt lightly to keep himself swinging.
The conversation became easier after that. Less awkward pauses. Less overthinking every response.
Will found himself relaxing without even noticing. Usually talking to new people felt exhausting, like trying to solve a test he didn’t study for. But with Mike, things flowed strangely naturally. Even when they sat quiet for a few seconds, it didn’t feel uncomfortable.
The summer heat softened little by little as the afternoon stretched on. Golden sunlight filtered through the trees above them while children slowly started leaving the playground one by one.
At some point, Mike leaned back on the swing and looked over at him.
“You know,” he said casually, “when I first walked over here, I thought you were gonna ignore me completely.”
Will blinked. “Why?”
“You looked kinda intimidating.”
That surprised him enough to laugh quietly.
“I was literally sitting on a swing.”
“Yeah, but in a mysterious way.”
Will snorted softly while Mike pointed at him dramatically, placing a hand against his chest as if deeply insulted.
“Wow,” Mike said. “You wound me.”
Will immediately ducked his head again, embarrassed by the fact he’d laughed at all. His ponytail slipped over his shoulder as he stared down at the dirt beneath the swing, trying to hide the smile threatening to appear.
Beside him, Mike laughed openly, the sound easy and warm beneath the rustling trees.
“It’s not like a cute girl like you would actually talk to someone like me,” Mike said, staring down at his shoes as a flush slowly crept across his face.
Will’s shoes scraped harshly against the dirt as he instinctively stopped the swing.
His breath hitched.
For a second, everything around him seemed to blur together - the cicadas buzzing in the trees, distant kids laughing somewhere across the playground, the creaking chains of the swings swaying softly beside them.
A cute girl.
Mike still wasn’t looking at him, clearly too embarrassed by what he’d just admitted. Meanwhile, Will sat completely frozen.
A thousand thoughts crashed into him at once. Embarrassment. Confusion. Something warm twisting strangely in his chest. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Finally, barely above a whisper, he managed—
“I’m—”
“Mike!”
Someone shouted from across the playground. Mike’s head snapped up immediately toward the voice, the moment between them abruptly breaking apart. Across the field, two boys around their age - one of them waving impatiently.
“Hurry up, man!” the one with dark skin yelled.
Mike blinked a few times like he’d just been pulled out of a trance before glancing back at Will.
“Uh…” He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Sorry, that’s my friends.”
Will nodded quickly, almost relieved by the interruption even though his heart was still beating way too fast. The unfinished words sat heavily in his chest.
Mike looked like he wanted to say something else, but another shout echoed across the park.
“MIKE!”
“Yeah, yeah! I’m coming!” he shouted back - looking somewhat frustrated - before standing from the swing. For a second, he lingered awkwardly beside Will, hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.
Then he smiled slightly.
“I’ll see you around, California?”
Will looked up at him, still a little flushed.
“…Yeah.”
Mike grinned wider at that before jogging backward across the grass toward his friends. Halfway there, one of the boys – the one with curly hair - immediately started asking him something while pointing subtly toward Will sitting beneath the tree.
Mike shoved his shoulder with an embarrassed look. Will quickly looked away before they could notice him staring. The swings creaked softly in the silence afterward.
And only then did Will realize he never finished his sentence.