Heatwaves

The Vanishing of Will Byers

"Isn't it funny how day by day 

nothing changes

 but when you look back everything is different."

-C.S. Lewis

Two days prior leading to the events of Season One.

Over the course of the last month, Jonathan and I had explored nearly every conceivable location that might stir my memory—except for one: my grave. Confronting that part of my past was a daunting task I wasn't prepared to face yet, and Jonathan, with his unspoken understanding, respected my reluctance. Despite this, our friendship had blossomed. He had become not only a steadfast ally but also a true friend.

Hopper, too, had become a crucial figure in my life, almost like a surrogate father. Our interactions were often punctuated by silence, but it was a comfortable silence, one that spoke of unspoken understanding and mutual respect. Hopper's attempts to bridge the gap between us were heartwarming, from the dinners we shared to his patient guidance as he taught me how to cook. His gesture of buying me a motorcycle was more than a practical gift; it was a symbol of his trust and a way for me to regain some semblance of independence.

Joyce had stepped into the role of a godmother, offering insights about my parents that I otherwise wouldn't have known. Her kindness and warmth were constants in my life, and her store had become a second home. There, I felt a sense of normalcy and belonging that was hard to find elsewhere.

Will, with his ever-expanding circle of friends, had introduced me to his world. I spent a significant amount of time with them, immersing myself in their hobbies and routines. Dungeons and Dragons became a new passion of mine, a way to escape and explore a different reality. Nancy, too, had become a somewhat reliable friend, given how often I was at her house. Our interactions were still a bit tentative, but I appreciated her company.

School had become a refuge of sorts. My academic performance was effortless, and I found solace in the art classes I had taken up. The creative process was therapeutic, and Jonathan had been instrumental in curating a playlist that resonated with me. Everything seemed to be falling into place—until it wasn't.

On one particular Sunday, I awoke to find the house eerily quiet. Hopper had left for work before I had risen. I decided that spending the entire day at home wasn't ideal, so I dressed casually in jeans and a cozy sweater, gathered some essentials, and made my way to the kitchen. As I prepared a small lunch, I noticed the sun filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. The serenity of the moment was comforting.

After packing up lunch for Hopper, I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, locking it securely behind me. The ride on my motorcycle was refreshing. The wind against my face and the open road offered a sense of freedom that was both exhilarating and grounding.

Upon reaching Melvald's General Store, I walked in, greeted by the familiar chime of the doorbell. Joyce was behind the counter, meticulously arranging a display of fresh produce. Her face lit up as she saw me.

"Hey Joyce!"

"Em! What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here today?"

"I thought I'd bring lunch for Hopper. It's a little gesture to show appreciation. Plus, it's always nice to catch up."

Joyce's eyes softened. "That's incredibly thoughtful of you. Hopper will be pleased. He's been working tirelessly lately, so this will be a welcome break."