Our happy ending (Byler) [BEING EDITED]

Chapter Two

March 22nd 1986

8:36 AM

Byers' house, Will's room

Will woke up to a loud pounding on his door. He gasped awake, sweaty and trembling. His breathing was hard and messy. His eyes anxiously scanned around his room as he tried to calm down.

It took his brain a few seconds to comprehend what was going on, but more knocks rattled his walls.

"Will, c'mon! I'm gonna leave your goddamn ass here if you don't get up!"

It was Jonathan.

"I'm awake!!" Will shouted.

He checked his alarm clock.

8:36 AM

"Shit!"

Will fell out of bed and ran to his dresser. He quickly got dressed and grabbed his shoes.

"WILL!" Eleven shouted while pounding on his door.

"Hold on!" Will shouted back, groaning in annoyance.

He got his shoes on and opened his door. He ran upstairs where everyone was waiting. He nearly tripped while walking up to everyone. He rubbed his eyes and groaned. He still had a small lingering headache.

"Jesus... Never thought I'd see the day where the little Byers had messy hair!" Argyle gasped, patting Will's knotty hair which was usually brushed thoroughly.

"It's too early in the morning for you, Argyle," Will sighed, smacking his hand away tiredly.

El let out a tiny laugh and quickly turned her head in an attempt to hide her ongoing laughter and smile.

"Okaaaay, we don't want Mike to get here and be alone for a while," She begins pushing them towards the front door, "See you guys later!" Joyce said.

"Bye, Mom!" Will waved, faking a smile.

At the airport

10:24 AM

Will was sitting there, leaning back in the chair. His eyes were closed and he kept dozing off slightly. He had ongoing nightmares repeatedly last night and now he's tired. He had his walkman on and his headphones in. His headphones were playing Boys Don't Cry quietly so as to not disturb his headache.

"What's taking his flight so long?" Eleven whines.

"Maybe it- it had to stop." Jonathan shrugged, his words slurred.

Will rolled his eyes, flung his head forward with a sigh, and glanced at the two high teenagers beside him.

"Can planes just- stop?" Argyle asked, his words equally as slurred as Jonathan's. He had food in his mouth and was a little difficult to understand.