Chapter Text
Will didn’t know how long he had been hiding in that cold, dark room.
Long enough so that the blood from the slices across his face had dried, now replaced with a throbbing ache.
Long enough that his stomach pained in hunger and exhaustion. The bags under his eyes felt to define his whole face, a bitter reminder that he hadn’t slept in days.
His mind was loopy and delirious, and his vision of the scary-version of his bedroom had started to blur as his head hung limply side to side.
There was a weird panging in his head, and something told him that it was important to leave it be. That it was helping him. But that voice was slowly being drained out by the aches of his body and mind, and he was beginning to forget the rules he had taught himself when he first got to this room.
When did he come to his room? Wasn’t he in the library before?
It all blurred together. Without food or water, his life was threatened to break at any moment. He knew he needed to get up, to move, to find something to keep him going.
But he also knew that outside that door was danger. He remembered the petaled faces of monsters, their claws slashing out at him, and drool dripping over his body.
There was also a fuzzy image of something else. Something more dangerous. But he couldn’t focus on remembering what, not how he was now.
So he pushed an arm against the wall, slumping to stand up. His vision swayed with his body, and he realized just how weak he was.
He missed his mom. Jonathan. They must be worried about him. If they were still even out there. Maybe the world ended, and he was just alone now, stuck in wherever apocalypse this was.
His hand trembled as it hovered over the door handle, but there was no sound outside as he stood before it. That flashing warning of danger was still present, alongside that dull headache he had grown used to.
He opened the door, almost surprised to see the plain, vine-covered, dark hallway on the other side. Maybe he expected to open the door and be back home. His real home.
Taking shaky steps forward, he trailed his hands along the aged wallpaper, careful to avoid the fleshy vines. The ashy particles were less indoors then when he looked out the windows, but his throat still caught on any flakes he inhaled, taking a few moments to cough them out.
Once he was finally in the kitchen, he let himself lower his guard. There was no one else in his house. No flutter-faced monsters, or any other hidden danger his subconscious was afraid of.
He immediately tore open the cabinets and fridge, finding that any fresh food had long-ago rotted somehow. He pushed the old bags of chips, pastas, and moldy bread away, reaching for the back shelf where the canned food sat.
He grabbed the first one he saw, banging it against the counter until it popped open. He hesitantly smelled it, inspecting its contents, before hastily devouring it in three gulps.
His taste buds instantly recoiled at the flavour, but his stomach growled demanding more, picky appetite completely forgotten. He swiped for the rest of the cans in the cabinet, laying them all out before him on the counter.
He went through two more before forcing himself to stop, now desperate for water. He reached to turn on the sink, and was disappointed but not surprised when nothing came out of the faucet. He attempted a few more twists and turns, but to no avail.
He then remembered where his mom would keep their bottled water, in case of emergencies or frozen pipes, and reached for the shoved aside bin in the corner. Successful, he downed an entire three bottles of water before his body protested, not able to drink anymore.
He panted in relief, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. Everything was still fuzzy, but in his quest for sustenance, the dull ache in his head had faded. Almost disappeared.
And with its disappearance came a new weight to the atmosphere. Something had shifted, but Will couldn’t quite tell what.
His mind was confused and exhausted, and thoughts were few to form, leaving him standing in a frozen state in the center of his kitchen.
That was when his eyes caught movement from the kitchen window. He immediately darted his gaze to it, catching a figure standing further away in his yard.
It was a man.
Will’s heart instantly skipped a beat, but in his delirious state fear and hope blended into one, and all he could think was that there was another person out there. That he wasn’t alone.
And even though every bone in his body shouted danger at him as he moved to the front door, and even though he knew deep down there was something important he was forgetting, Will ached to not have to think anymore. To have someone answer his questions. To be taken home.
And he opened the door.
Will’s eyes snapped open, an eerie cold racking his body. A dull light shined in through the shallow windows of the basement, daylight beaming through the small rectangles that faced the ground outside.
He forced himself to breathe slower, tucking the blanket over him further up his body in an attempt to rid himself of goosebumps. He blinked the crustiness away from his eyes, finally allowing him to look around the room.
The mess of blankets on the floor by the TV were upturned, long ago left empty. In fact, as Will looked around, he nearly thought he was all alone in the basement, even Mike’s form missing from where they had settled on the floor by the couch.
That was until he heard a sharp intake of breath and shuffling coming from behind him, and he turned to see strands of red hair spilling over the side of the couch, lost under two blankets.
Max.
Her shoulders were shaking slightly despite the layers she had stacked upon herself, seeming to have taken the blanket El had left behind when she woke. Her shivers were accompanied by quiet whimpers, a tremble to her voice.
Will softened, forgetting all about the goosebumps that lined his arms and the eerie memory he had just awoken from, instead opting to shift to be kneeling beside the couch.
A pillow rested between her clutched arms instead of below her head, Max squeezing it tightly in her slumber. Her eyebrows were creased, and despite the shivers under the blankets Will could see drips of sweat slipping down her forehead.
Another stuttered whimper escaped her mouth, and Will couldn’t take it anymore. He gently reached out his hand, softly nudging her shoulder in hopes of waking her up.
When that didn’t work, he sighed and nudged her a little harder, other hand coming up to her forehead, “Max? It’s time to wake up,” he spoke softly, loud enough to reach her but quiet enough to not startle her.
Her whole body flinched as her eyes broke open, and Will retreated his hands, not wanting to frighten her further. “You were having a nightmare–” he started, her eyes cutting over to him wide and afraid.
“Will?”
Her voice was so quiet it made his chest ache. He nodded, resting his hand back on her shoulder hoping it was comforting. She shifted slightly, sitting up a little farther, but her eyes weren’t on him anymore. They were staring blankly at the pillow she still had clutched over her torso.
“Max…”
She nodded, somehow already knowing what he was going to say. “I know.. I know,” she mumbled quietly, “I’ll tell them today.”
“We’ll find a way. He won’t get to you, Max.”
She didn’t seem to believe him, eyes still not looking anywhere. “How long did they have?”
He didn’t need to ask her to clarify, he knew what she was asking. Chrissy, Fred. He just wished he had the answers she was looking for. “I don’t know… but it seemed like they were experiencing symptoms for a couple of weeks, if I had to guess.”
“The nightmares started last week. Headaches a couple days ago,” she stated matter-of-factly, like she was telling the doctor how she was feeling at a routine checkup. “Am I going to start seeing things, too? L-like they did before..”
“We won’t let it come to that,” Will’s voice hardened. He’d never heard himself speak with such conviction before, and he really hoped he could back it up. But who was he to be promising such things to this frightened young girl? He’d just met her, and now he was swearing on his life that he’d protect her? He could hardly protect himself after all these years, what made him stand a chance now?
It didn’t matter. He’d make it work, he’d have to. Things were different, after all. He wasn’t fighting alone anymore. And he was fighting for someone else now.
Her eyes finally met his as she searched his face. Whatever she found, it must’ve worked to convince her, because she was nodding as she released a shaky exhale, wiping away the sweat on her forehead.
“We should probably go up for breakfast,” she hummed after taking a few moments.
Will blinked, momentarily shocked at the switch from the life he was used to to the life he had returned too. Go up for breakfast. Because they were at a sleepover. Like mundane, normal kids. It was almost comical how she was able to jump from talking about her possibly-fatal curse from an other-worldly monster to suggesting they go upstairs for pancakes.
And, fuck, did Will’s mouth water at the idea of pancakes. Not wanting to embarrass himself, he just nodded his agreement, moving aside so Max could stand from the couch.
She looked at Will, up the stairs, then back at Will, seeming to remember an important detail. “Um.. maybe I should go up first. In case Mrs. Wheeler is up there,” she said awkwardly.
Will flushed, completely having forgotten he was being hidden at the moment, and just nodded like an idiot again. As she left up the stairs, Will twiddled with the hem of Mike’s sweater patiently.
He squatted a bit to look at his reflection in the powered-down TV, using a free hand to tussle with his hair to not look like such a mess. It had been so long since he had to actually consider his appearance, and he felt that insecurity coming back in full force now that he was home. The braid from last night had mostly fallen out, leaving pathetic strands falling everywhere around his face. He grumbled as he took each strand out, trying to get the curls to fall uniformly instead.
When he heard the stairs creaking again, he quickly stood up, praying that Max didn’t see him. Unfortunately, the playful grin on her face said otherwise as she pointed her chin up the stairs, “All clear, Byers. Brush your hair later.”
Red filled in his face as he huffed in annoyance, but ultimately followed her back up to the kitchen. Mike was standing at the sink with his back turned to them, filling up two glasses of water with two full plates on the counter beside him.
Will’s eyes immediately fell on the plate of hot pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fruit, and felt like everything else in the world faded away at that moment. Obviously they fed him when they first made it back to the Wheelers, as well as last night, but he had been so out of it he really didn’t focus on anything, just stuffing whatever food they gave him in his mouth.
But now he was being presented with a warm home-styled breakfast, and he couldn't even remember what pancakes and eggs tasted like. Let alone fruit. Where he once would've gagged at the smell, his meals of canned tuna and beans throughout the past two years had become typical to him. He’d never even let his mind wander to imagining other foods, knowing that just the memory of a different taste would drive him crazy.
Max noticed his awe-filled gaze and partly opened mouth, and she followed his stare to the plate of food. “Yo, Wheeler, the food ready?”
Mike turned around, slightly surprised. His gaze softened when it landed on Will, and suddenly the memories of their conversation from last night came rushing into Will. When they talked, Will had been tired, emotionally exhausted, and lost from all the change that had occurred in only twenty-four hours.
And in that confusion, his walls broke down, and he revealed some of the things he had previously sworn he would never tell Mike. Or anyone. Will didn’t want him to think he was weak.
”I don’t know if I had anything else in me,” he had admitted to Mike.
He also told him about his guilt when learning to use a gun. About his aversion to heat. About Henry. About his eye.
Now, looking at Mike’s face in the daylight, all thoughts of a warm meal disappeared as he feared all he would see in his best friends eyes would be pity and disgust. He clenched his fists, waiting for the inevitable blow, the consequence of bearing his soul out in this same spot only a handful of hours ago.
But Mike’s face never contorted. His eyes never narrowed, pinning Will down. His lips never curled up in distaste.
Instead, his eyes shimmered slightly as they stared into Will’s, and a small smile broke out on his face. He looked brilliant.
“Are you hungry, Will?” His voice was smooth as butter, soft and warm.
Will couldn’t help returning the smile as he nodded. He followed Max’s lead as he slid into one of the tall seats at the kitchen island’s counter, and Mike walked to join them, placing the plates in front of the two.
Will was grateful neither of them mentioned his watering mouth as he slowly lifted a fork from the plate, biting into the eggs. He felt his chest swirl at the warmth, the texture, the taste. The joy of eating good food rushed back into him, and he could have been sitting in a five star restaurant with how the delicious tastes welcomed him.
No one said anything as Will cleared the entire plate, eye watering just slightly. And no one said anything as Mike casually took Will’s plate, filled it with some more eggs and another pancake, and put it back in front of Will.
He could feel Max’s eyes on him the whole time, however. Not judging, but observing. Thinking.
“Where are the others?” Max broke the peaceful quiet, Will finally relinquishing his fork in favor of drinking his water.
Mike’s face shifted, a tad uneasy, “Lucas had to go home, his parents kinda blew up at him for the impromptu sleepover,” he started explaining, and Will flushed a little knowing the boy only slept over so he could be with Will, “Steve picked up Dustin and El a little bit ago. They went to talk to your family, Will. To give them, uh... a heads up.”
Will now understood the uncomfortable look on Mike’s face. He was finally seeing his family again today. He’d finally see his mom and his brother, after three years. He paled a little at the idea, nerves taking over.
“Are you still up to seeing them?” Max asked gently, “You can take more time.”
Will smiled at her softly. Even having just met one another, he felt safe knowing she would look after him. He was glad that his friends had her all this time, in the wake of his disappearance. He could tell what a kind persons he was. “Yeah,” he mumbled, “I want to see them. Just.. am nervous.”
Mike nodded, “We can go over whenever you’re ready. I don’t know if you want to shower, or something..”
Will blushed, having completely forgotten that that was an option for him now. He didn’t have to schedule times of the month where he could set aside some of his water and wipes to clean himself anymore, he could simply just shower. Whenever he wanted.
“Yeah, that sounds nice, thanks,” He accepted sheepishly.
“I can set aside more clothes for you, just use anything up there. You guys slept in pretty late thankfully, so my family’s already out for the day,” Mike pointed his head towards the stairs.
Will nodded and stood up, eyes lingering on his empty plate as he considered what he should do with it. Would it be rude to leave it there? Do I wash it?
Almost like he could read Will’s mind, Mike wordlessly took the cleared plate and started washing it, and Will tried to resist the flush rising to his face, choosing instead to walk upstairs.
He closed the bathroom door behind him, and finally had the chance to look in the mirror. His hair wasn’t as much of a mess as it was when he woke up, even if the wavy curls seemed all over the place.
But his hair was still soft to the touch, silky and light after yesterday’s shower, and Will tried not to think about how long he went without being able to properly clean his hair.
At some point during his time in the Nether, he had almost buzzed it all off. But when he took the razor to his head, all he could think of was his mother’s hands brushing through his hair as she hummed.
He missed his mom. So much. But what if when she saw him she would realize he wasn’t that twelve year old boy she remembered? What if she saw him for the mess he was and realized she got her hopes up for nothing? For him?
He slowly peeled off the bandage from his eye, still fresh from Mike’s application of it last night. He couldn’t help the recoil at the sight of the scar, for some reason expecting it to look better than it did only a day ago.
The sunken cave of his eye defined his whole face, even overtaking the few scars that rested across his nose. There was almost this look of decay to it, like the scar had infected the whole left side of his face. Like it spread.
And as he looked at his reflection, he couldn’t help but think of those monsters he had lived with for three years. He thought grimly to himself he wasn’t far off from them now.
He didn’t realize just how scary it would look. He wondered if that was Henry’s goal– not to remind him of his misdemeanor, or his punishment, but to forever brand him of what he had become. A monster.
He pushed aside all those thoughts as he turned on the shower, holding a hand out to test the temperature. As much as his soul craved a warm shower, even the slightest touch of hot water still sent goosebumps down his arms, an uncomfortable feeling resting under his skin.
He wondered if it was because of his slow adjustment to not being constantly frozen, but part of him worried it was due to something else, something deeper.
None the less, even with the cold water, the shower felt incredible– being able to feel any dirt and grime from the past day instantly flow down the drain, feel his hands run through his soaken hair.
The thoughts of his ugly scar disappeared with the water as he turned the faucet, stepping out and grabbing a towel just to see a new stack of folded clothes sitting on the counter by the door. Mike must’ve snuck them in while he was checked out under the water.
He was bitterly reminded then of all of Jonathan’s clothes he had gone through in the past three years.
Jonathan.
How old was his brother now? Had he made more friends? Was he getting ready for college? What had Will missed from his brother’s life?
Will felt nerves lining his arms, but any sense of anxiety was overrun by the desperate need to just see his brother’s face.
He slid on the new pair of sweats, and tensely held up the old t-shirt Mike had laid out for him. He immediately noted the short sleeves of the shirt, and his eyes drifted to the scattered small scars that lined his arms.
Scars from scraping his arms against tree branches as he ran from a shrieking monster.
Scars from ripping his arms free of muscled vines.
Scars from testing his connection to the hive mind.
His pain tolerance.
If the monsters felt the same sting of a blade from his arm as he would feel a twitch of pain from their injuries.
He never really did find out the results of that particular experiment, sadly.
He dully hoped that those creatures felt every ounce of pain that he did. As if it was retribution enough for all he was put through.
Briefly, he considered requesting a long sleeve shirt or sweater from Mike, but his chest twinged at how much he was taking from the boy. Even after three years of being apart, Mike hadn’t hesitated to feed him, clothe him, give him a place to sleep while his mess of a brain caught up to the current events.
Mike had been endlessly patient with Will these past two days. There was no need to be further of a burden.
They were bound to see some of the scars eventually, any how. Might as well ease them into it.
Will threw the shirt on and numbly applied a new bandage over his scarred eye, grateful that Mike had the foresight to leave the first aid kit out for him.
Mike probably just didn’t want to see my scars any more than he had to, Will thought detachedly, the nagging voice seeping in from the back of his mind. He couldn’t imagine what went through the boys mind when he looked at Will, not when Will himself even had trouble distinguishing between the human part of him and what had taken over the left half of his face.
Splashing some water on his forehead, Will took a deep breath, before leaving the bathroom and returning to the kitchen where Max and Mike still sat patiently, in the middle of some conversation.
Will could hardly make out any of the words they were saying, not with the ringing taking over his senses as he managed to finally speak, “I’m ready to see them.”
It was an eerie feeling, riding a bike up his own driveway.
Not like he was alone– he still rode on the backset of Mike’s bike, despite having the opportunity to just take the bike Dustin had left behind. But Mike insisted, and Will wasn’t particularly eager to ride on his own again, so he accepted, leaving him now with his arms wrapped around his best friend for the second time in twenty-four hours.
As his home came into view, Will felt his muscles tense. It shouldn’t feel this weird, not when he had been spending the last three years practically holed up in the same house.
But, then again, it wasn’t exactly the same house.
It was midday now, which meant sunrays filled the trees and basked his humble cabin in a luminescent light, the shadows decorating odd corners and creating a cozy figure of the building.
Despite being in just the t-shirt, Will felt no sense of chills running down his back. No goosebumps across his arms. No blue lips to accompany the biting cold that usually came with where he’d been living for three years.
The air was clear, no spectral spores filling the atmosphere, catching in his throat and leaving him paralyzed in a coughing fit for a few moments.
And, most of all, there were no vines lining the ground. No tentacle-shaped roots squeezing the walls of his home, acting as a gate and prison bars all in one. No traps lying in wait.
It was simply just his home.
Plain and boring, like it always had been. Like he’d forgotten it was.
Will didn’t even realize they had stopped until he felt a slight nudge on his shoulder, turning to face a concerned-looking Mike. His eyes were pinched as he looked Will up and down, almost like the boy was trying to read every thought and feeling that ran through Will’s mind.
Will managed a small smile, nodding to reassure whatever anxiety Mike was feeling. The boy just gave an odd expression in response, before opening his mouth to say something–
That was the moment the front door slammed open, and the three all whipped their heads to the porch simultaneously.
And there she stood, arm still holding the door open, chest heaving, and tear-streaks running through whatever makeup she had on.
His mom.
She looked older. Not just from the years that had passed, but from the new wrinkles that danced around the corner of her eyes, and just above her forehead. Her hair looked less saturated also, the dark brunette having shifted to duller pieces in sections of her head.
She still had the same wispy bangs awkwardly sitting over her brows, though. And the same deep brown eyes that seemed to glisten in the sunlight.
She was staring directly back at him, mouth hung open, eyes searching his face for some sign. A sign that he was real. A sign that he was her son. A sign that he was alive.
Finally, her voice broke through the peaceful quiet of the woods, barely carrying to his ears, “Will?”
At that moment, every ounce of strength he had carefully and meticulously built up through the years as he was forced to grow up shattered, and he felt his feet moving before his brain could catch up.
One foot after the other, Will dully registered his mother was moving towards him the same, before he practically fell into her warm embrace. “Mom…” he creaked.
Her arms squeezed him tightly, hands rubbing his back, almost like she still was unsure if he was real. He narrowed his face in her shoulder, sudden tears soaking her cardigan sweater. His breaths were staggering, catching on every hiccup as he broke in his mother’s arms, her own tears mimicking his.
“My baby… it-it’s really you. You’re.. You-” she stumbled over her tears, muttering into his hair as she simultaneously stared ahead into the open space and nestled into his head. “I.. I can’t believe it..”
“It’s r-really him?”
A new voice broke the awkward sound of muffled tears and pleasant words. It was equally as hesitant, quiet, and painfully raw.
“Jon?”
Will leaned back as much as his mother’s arms would allow him, head held up and searching for that voice he knew all too well.
He didn’t have to look far. His brother stood in the same place Joyce had been moments before, shell-shocked on the porch and staring at Will with wide eyes.
Jonathan stumbled forward, and with one arm still remaining around his mother, Will reached out for him. His older brother fell into the hug with ease, Joyce moving aside slightly to make room for the boy.
Will felt completely enveloped by their embrace, and in that moment nothing else existed outside of his family’s arms. He cried freely into them now, not even registering the sweet nothings being whispered into his ear, the grateful thanks being spoken into the universe by his family.
At some point he felt Joyce’s stance wobble, and the three of them slumped to the ground without protest, no one daring to let go of the other.
Vaguely, Will was aware there was a group of people standing around them, awkwardly waiting for their reunion to come to a close, but he couldn’t find a single part of himself to care or rush to address them.
He was home. He was finally home.
Jonathan seemed to share his sentiment, speaking quietly into his shoulder, “You came back.. you really did it..” his voice was broken and yet somehow so encouraging. Will almost didn’t recognize the hint of pride lining his brother's words.
“I-I’m sorry,” Will whispered, not exactly sure which part of it all he was apologizing for. Disappearing in the first place? Leaving them? Taking so long to come home? Coming home like this?
… Coming home at all?
“Don’t,” Joyce hissed softly, “Don’t you dare apologize for staying alive. Baby, I’m so proud of you. And I-I’m so sorry I couldn’t–” a sob cut her off, but Will knew what she was thinking.
Even so, he felt his heart freeze in his chest.
”I’m so proud of you.” Proud. She was proud of him.
Not disgusted. Not terrified. Not remorseful.
She was proud.
Because he lived.
Because he kept trying to get back to them. Because he did make it back. All on his own.
He stuttered a sob in her shoulder once more, sniffling and nodding instead of granting them a real response. He wasn’t sure he had one in him.
It felt like an eternity passed as he sat comfortably in his loved ones arms, before his mother finally pulled back, hands moving to gently cup his cheeks. Her eyes were red-rimmed and face damp with tears, but as she held his face her eyes searched him, finally taking a moments to truly take him in.
And see him.
Jonathan did the same, and Will could feel the hurt settling on their faces, the pity in their eyes.
“Oh, Will–” Joyce began, thumb gently rubbing right next to his bandage over his eye as her gaze traveled across his face, down to his bare scarred arms. Will braced himself for the questions, for the pain in her eyes, for the horrific realization that he was not a twelve year old boy anymore.
“Mom,” Jonathan whispered, interrupting her. He was still staring at Will, but softer than expected. Like he was just looking at his little brother.
Joyce shut her mouth, nodding stiffly as she took a deep breath, “You’re right.. hun, let’s move inside, i-is that okay?”
Will nodded, lamely wiping the back of his hand against his watered eye. Dully he registered the ache in his scar, feeling difficultly dry as he knew it pained to just cry.
Jonathan stood first, tall and strong as he had always been as he continued to help both Will and their mother to their feet. Will noticed how Jonathan’s hand lingered on Joyce’s elbow carefully, how he watched her like she was a fragile piece of glass.
Will almost appreciated that it wasn’t him on the receiving end of that look, but in the back of his mind he wondered just why Jonathan felt the need to monitor their mother so closely at a time like this.
The front door was still rested open, and Will was finally able to notice that at some point during their reunion the others must had gone inside, as the three were now the only ones left standing in the fresh air.
Joyce wrapped her arms around one of Will’s, hugging him close at the side as they moved indoors. Will leaned into the contact, and realized with a bitter awareness that he was now taller than his own mother.
Even so, in that moment, in her arms, he felt like he was that small kid again, and he could pretend they were simply walking into their home after a long day of school. She would make spaghetti, Jon would hole up in his room and play some obnoxiously loud song from his radio, and Will would plant himself at the dining table and sprawl the surface with pieces of paper and his new set of crayons.
It almost sounded surreal.
But instead of walking into a warm and peaceful living room, they entered a room full of people whose heads turned towards them instantly.
Will found Mike’s gaze promptly, and the boy held a small but hesitant smile as he took in Will with his family. He was standing next to the couch, where Dustin sat alongside Max and Eleven. There was no sign of Steve, but sitting in the sofa chair next to El was a larger man Will didn’t recognize, one with a kind face, whose gaze switched anxiously between WIll and Joyce. Behind him, and leaning against the wall with a cigarette between his lips, was another man Will wasn’t familiar with, rugged and gruff looking, but Will soon noticed the uniform and badge he wore.
Will immediately felt uncomfortable in the large group setting, tensing at the amount of eyes on him. Joyce must’ve felt his stiffening, squeezing his arm comfortably in return, but when Will looked down towards her he realized her gaze lay elsewhere.
She was looking directly at the kind man in the chair, and Will searched his face as the man looked back fondly at her. Somehow, the man felt oddly familiar, despite Will having never met him before.
Suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind, and the man clicked instantly.
His mother’s face was grief-stricken and haunted, and, at the moment he saw her, frozen in horror. She cried in anguish as she called out for a man Will didn’t recognize, who had fallen to the floor gripping a bloody injury. The demodog’s attention locked onto the man, creeping closer too quickly for him to get up. Will understood in growing terror that that man was going to die. He also saw the same realization dawn on his mother’s aged face.
He couldn’t watch her cry anymore, not after knowing he had left her behind. Which was why, when the demodog lept, Will helplessly tried to reach out for her. He dug into the depths of his mind, of his connection, and watched in confusion as his and the demodogs' vision froze in place, unable to move.
And then a gun fired, and Will’s connection was broken, leaving him collapsed from his blistering head pain, alone again.
“So you made it out…,” Will mumbled subconsciously as he stared at the man’s face, before shutting his mouth realizing he really didn’t know what he was saying. The damage was done, however, and the group looked curiously between him and the stranger.
The man made a confused face, looking to the others for help, before awkwardly rubbing the back of his head with an uncomfortable smile, “Shouldn’t that be our line?”
The gruff man behind him cleared his throat, looking at Will with an odd affection, “We’re glad you’re here, kid. But, uh, seems like we’re still mixed up in quite the situation–”
“Hopper, please,” Joyce’s voice broke gently, “He just got home.”
Chief Hopper? Will absently wondered.
“We should wait for Steve to get back, anyways,” Dustin chimed.
The chief chewed on his cheek awkwardly, clearly disagreeing, but nodded either way. Will was suddenly grateful that his friends had thought ahead and explained things to his family before he got there, slightly surprised at the acceptance they had felt with his sudden appearance.
The man in the chair got up then, walking towards Will and his family with a hesitant smile on his face. “Hey there, kiddo. I know we haven’t met before, but the names’ Bob, and I’m so glad to finally meet you. You’re mom is real important to me,” He spoke softly but with a genuine friendliness overlaying his words. Will didn’t miss his mother’s tense form relaxing next to him as he talked, and he wondered just how much of an impact the man had made on his family’s lives while he had been gone.
It felt weird, introducing himself knowing he had almost watched this man’s death– at the hands of the demodogs no less. Despite how innocent and care-free the man carried himself, there was no doubt he had his share of suffering, getting mixed up in this whole mess. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he simply mumbled back instead.
Bob reached a small hand out and squeezed Joyce’s shoulder, earning a smile from the exhausted woman. Bob looked to Jonathan then, nodding to him as Joyce slowly released Will’s arm. Jonathan seemed to deflate, nodding back as the older man shifted to comfort their mother, and Will watched with a strange fascination. Had his mom grown fragile? Or was it just because of him? Was it his fault?
Will felt a nudge on his elbow then, and looked curiously to meet Jon’s soft face. “Hey,” he whispered gently, “Wanna move to my room?”
Will considered the rest of the crowded room, awkward eyes all still examining him, and blushed slightly as he bobbed his head in response, “...please.”
The others seemed to take the hint, adverting their gaze to offer him some semblance of privacy as Jonathan began leading Will down the hall, as if he didn’t know the layout of his own home.
And yet, as he walked through the house, he found himself staring oddly at the space around him. It was the same, yes, but somehow so different. He had to stop himself from automatically picking his feet up at the corners where he knew the vines laid––a repetitive habit from his countless days holed up in his home in the Nether––considering the space was simply empty now.
Similarly, he achingly eyed the blank wallpaper that decorated the walls, any trace of his paintings from the past three years nowhere to be seen. In the Nether, practically every inch of space had been painted over, no trace of the home that it used to be showing. Will always reasoned he painted the walls to stay busy, but part of him also felt he wanted to hide any reminder of the home it used to be for him.
And yet, here, nothing had changed. The walls stood, nothing to meet him besides a simple, boring plaid pattern, one Joyce had frustratedly picked in their early years. She never did have much of an eye for interior decor.
Will was surprised to find he didn’t mourn the lost artwork, the lost effort. Part of him felt it deserved to all fade away, anyways.
Jonathan nudged the door to his bedroom open, letting Will walk in first. He stood in the center of the room, curiously eyeing what had changed. Interestingly enough, time in the Nether stood still– meaning that the last he had seen of Jonathan’s room was the typical teenage mess it was left in that very day Will had disappeared.
And standing in the room now, he found that his brother didn’t go many lengths to change it in the time Will was gone.
The same bedspread. The same dresser and desk cluttered with school supplies. Mostly the same posters littering the wall.
There was a corner of the room dedicated to Jonathan’s photography, however. Slots of pictures were strung against the wall lining the window, and Will found himself looking closer.
Pictures of the woods behind their house. Of their mother wearing a tacky halloween costume, Bob holding a bucket of candy behind her. Of old crayon drawings Will would leave around the house. Of Castle Byers.
But there were more faces on the wall than Will expected. His brother had always been a solitary person, keeping to his own at school with few, if any, friends. Will always used to joke that he was Jonatahn’s best friend, but not the other way around.
But despite Will’s small circle, the brothers were always able to silently bond over their preferred quiet social life. They both always felt they didn’t quite fit in this small town. Perhaps it was the remnants of living under Lonnie, where both boys were queer in their own ways, according to their father.
But now there were others in his life.
There were also pictures of Bob, one in the car as he grinned a wide smile, the window down letting wind blow through what he had left of hair on his head. Photos of Steve, interestingly enough, one with him standing in a stupid sailor uniform behind a counter with an agitated expression, Dustin smiling brightly next to him. Photos of Robin and Nancy, one where they sat comfortably on a couch, seemingly in a heated argument, oblivious to the camera pointed in their direction.
And then there were pictures of Jonathan. With crinkles under his eyes. With large smiles.
With Nancy. His arm wrapped around hers, her eyes glinting in the dim lighting as she looked at him with something Will had never seen before. A picture of them standing around a bonfire. A picture of them snuggled on a couch in the Wheeler basement.
Jonathan’s eyes traced Wills, finally realizing what he was staring at.
“You’re dating Nancy Wheeler?” Will asked incredulously, voice soft.
Jon chuckled under his breath, nodding as he walked to stand next to Will before the wall of photography. “Yeah, uh.. It’s been a couple years now.”
“How?” Will didn’t even mean anything by it, but in his mind it made no sense. Nancy had always been pretty little miss perfect, as Mike would say. Will couldn’t imagine how the two would even get along, let alone date.
“We got pretty close after… after everything happened with you and.. her friend, Barb,” he added faintly. “Turns out we had a good bit in common.”
Will’s brain stilled, “What happened to her friend?”
Jonathan froze, standing quietly as his brain processed the best way to answer Will’s question. Will searched his older brother’s mournful face, and was terrified he knew the truth before his brother even opened his mouth. “She disappeared, too,” Jonathan finally relented, “Except… well, we found her.”
Will felt his heart ache in his chest, questions flying through his mind. There was someone else stuck there? He wasn’t alone? Did Henry get to her first? How long was she there? Did she try to call for help?
Could Will have even helped her?
“Oh.”
Jonathan looked at him oddly, eyes searching like he could see every part of Will. “I still can’t believe it, you know,” his brother mumbled as he slumped on the edge of the bed. Will followed, sitting beside him. “They told us everything. About Vecna, Chrissy and Fred… about finding you.”
“What’d they tell you about me?”
Jonathan’s eyes watered. “Finding you outside the trailer. Taking you to the Wheelers. Your… visions. El– she told us there was a lot more that you.. haven’t opened up about. Yet.” Will’s chest twinged at the reminder of how much he was holding out from them. But just because he opened up to El and Mike didn’t mean he was ready for the rest to know.
“But,” Jon’s voice broke, “They didn’t tell us… I-I didn’t expect..” Jon’s voice trailed, and Will prepared himself. For the distaste, for the pity, for the– “You grew up.”
Will stuttered, “W-what?”
Jonathan turned to him then, eyes filled with so much pain it hurt to even look at. “You’re not a little kid anymore.. I can see now how much it’s weighed on you, what you’ve had to go through. And, jesus Will, it hurts, knowing I couldn’t be there to help you shoulder it all,” tears were flowing quietly down his brothers cheeks now.
“Jon, I–”
“No, Will, don’t even try to argue. You didn’t deserve any of this. You never should’ve had to survive on your own. In that place. Shit.. and for so long, I just– I’m sorry, Will.”
Will raised a hand to feel his now wet cheeks, numbly realizing he too was crying again. Oh. So that’s what he meant.
You didn’t deserve any of this.
Jonathan immediately wrapped him in another hug, holding his brother so tightly Will, for once, felt no doubts that this was real. That he was here. He sniffled in his brother’s shoulder as Jonatahn soothingly rubbed his hand up and down Will’s back. Jonathan continued muttering, “I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.. Will..”
Will shook his head as much as he could manage, “I missed you.”
Jonathan huffed in his hair, “You don’t even know.” As Will’s cries slowed, they slowly pulled back from each other, though Jonathan’s hand still lingered on Will’s back. Jonathan examined his face then, gaze lingering on his bandage. “Do you… want to talk about it?”
Will looked to his hands in his lap. Did he? “There’s… there’s a lot.”
Jonathan took Will’s hand in his, drawing his gaze up to his older brother. He held a gentle smile, “We have all the time in the world, Will. Whenever you’re ready.”
Will returned the small smile, leaning to lay his back on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking.
“So.. mom has a boyfriend?”
Jon chuckled, falling unceremoniously next to him on the mattress. “I wasn’t so sure of him at first, but… he’s a real good guy. Makes mom happy.”
“And you?” Will turned his head.
“What?”
“Are you happy, Jon?” he whispered.
Jonathan’s face twisted into something Will didn’t recognize, keeping his eyes locked on the ceiling above them. “I… I didn’t think I could be, for the longest time,” he started, “After we couldn’t find you… jesus, Will we had two funerals for you.”
“Two?”
“A week after you disappeared, there was a body,” Jon’s voice grew much darker, and Will paled at the image, “We had a funeral and everything. Mom… she didn’t take it well. She swore you were still out there. She.. she didn’t go.”
Will sucked in a deep breath, aching as he imagined his mother in such grief she wouldn’t even show. And then he imagined Jonathan, standing in black, alone at his own little brother’s funeral.
“But, well, obviously it was a fake. Government didn’t want us sticking our noses where we shouldn’t have been. Hopper was the one that found out. Then with El and everything… they went into the Upside Down to find you.”
Will lurched to sit up, “What?” he practically shouted.
Jon looked at him sadly. “They looked for you. Went to our house, Castle Byers, even the Wheelers. But when– when they found Barb’s body… they had to come back. It was a little after that that we held more… personal… of a funeral, one for you and Barb,” Jon’s voice quieted for a moment, “and we stopped looking.”
Will could see the guilt pooling in his brothers eyes. But he couldn’t get over it, the fact that his mother had been there. That she had looked for him– that she had almost found him.
But didn’t.
Because Will was stuck with him.
If they had ventured into town, into the library, they would’ve found his tortured figure strung up against the wall. If they had come back, even a week later, they would’ve found his shivering body curled up in a corner of their house. He could’ve gone home.
He hated the bitter part of himself that was angry. Angry that they stopped looking. Angry that they had been so close and given up.
But logically he knew, there was no other way. How would they have expected him to be alive? After finding another body, one of a girl who had disappeared just like he did? After they had seen and fought those monsters?
Logically, he should've been dead. But fate had a funny way of twisting, it seemed.
“I can’t even tell you what it was like,” Jon started again, “Mom.. she was just different, after you died. Fragile. Like she wasn’t here. She wouldn’t work, wouldn’t eat– nothing. I dropped school for a little bit, just to look after her.”
Now it made sense, why Jonathan’s eyes watched Joyce so cautiously– like she was about to break at any second. Because he did watch her break. And it was because of Will.
“A lot’s happened since you left. And while I can’t know what you went through, down there, I can tell you we’ve definitely seen our fair of shit up here.”
He already knew. He had seen most of it happen, watched through the eyes of the monsters they had been defending against. “I know,” he responded quietly, “I saw.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, exhaling a deep breath. “Your visions… I didn’t think that meant... shit.”
“Yeah,” Will huffed, “Shit.”
They sat there quietly for a few moments, both not feeling the need to say anything more. Will twiddled with his thumbs, quietly mulling over the morning and his feelings.
He wanted so badly to just tell Jonathan everything. To let it all out and then never address it again. But it almost felt like his chest was on fire every time he tried opening his mouth, tried revisiting those three years.
But they had time. Nothing but time. He’d tell them eventually.
Until then, there was a group of people outside waiting for them. Waiting for them to finish their brotherly reunion so they could plot the take down of what they had deemed a villain from a board game. Waiting for Will.
But they could wait a little while longer.
“Can you put on a song?”