"It was the best thing I've ever done" Byler Oneshots

[12] Fingers Curled Around the Back of a Prickled Neck

(AKA "I guess this was always bound to happen, I just thought maybe I had a chance of moving past it."

Gaping cracks sever the ghostly presence of Hawkins Indiana. The spores drift in the breeze as if they've always had a place intoxicating the air that used to be only dented by the common cigarette and car pollution. Will feels it creeping up his neck. He knows the end is soon to come.
For now, the palm of his hand holds a permanent position where the prickles of hope flame into dark reminders of the collapsing world around them.
It's just a matter of time.)

Tick- Tock- Tick- Tock

- - - - - - - - - >

Gaping cracks sever the ghostly presence of Hawkins Indiana. The spores drift in the breeze as if they've always had a place intoxicating the air that used to only be only dented by the common cigarette and car pollution.

Will's breath catches in the whirlwind of his mind as he takes in the scenery. The concave of twisted flames and cursed land. The welcoming view of two dimensions collided into one giant mess of a town. El roams in front of them, her fingers wrapping around a few plucked flowers who had succumbed to the mass of missing land where a not-quite thriving town used to be. It's quite metaphoric, if you look at it in the right lens. The hairs on the back of his raw neck stand up once more, tradition at this point, but Will cannot find it within himself to move his hand to greet them. Jesus, it's pointless. He can feel his insides stirring and willing themselves to entirely lockdown. He can feel a panic attack hiding behind the bushes of his distracted mind.

Mike is stood next to him, mind numb, hands flat at his sides as he watches. There is too much to fix and too little time to do so, Will can't help but think. Not that he actually still had hope something could exist between the two of them, that was finally put at rest this past day. It's almost peaceful, giving up. Letting himself accept that that last attempt at happiness was in vain and this was just how his life would be for as long as he was able to remain living it.

El turns to face the six of them, eyebrows lifted up to the small nervous wrinkles on her forehead. Her eyes announce it all without a breath being wasted. They wouldn't get a break in between battles this time around.

Her doe eyes find Will's, searching for something behind the empty gaze he holds at her. It becomes clear she is searching for hope. The hope that Will no longer possesses.

Those flowers, if that's what you can even call them anymore, are still in her hands, clutched between fingers and flushed palm. She's squeezing tightly onto them, her eyes watery when she catches up with Will. Her shoulders drop the determination. Will wants to comfort, wants to heal, but- he can't. He's barely even a shell of himself anymore, there's nothing to give. Not even to the people he loves more than himself.

There's nothing to be said when El approaches them again, her gaze somewhat lost. A buried fragment of fear twisted within her expression, it's hidden because she knows she has to be brave. The one to fight. The one to win. Will's heart squeezes at the idea of his sister holding back. She of all people deserves to release all of the built up trauma she's endured.

Will wouldn't mind being able to do that, either.

It's not like he can, though. He'd end up alone if he did. He's used to being alone, but not hated. Not stared at like he was the pus you just squeezed out of a particularly ugly looking zit.

Will  would rather have a face to face encounter with Henry (he doesn't want to make himself hate D&D with all of the monster naming they've been doing lately) than wind up even more of a laughing stock than he already was.