𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐈 𝐆𝐎 - 𝐵𝑌𝐿𝐸𝑅

Next It's Black

WILL

He stares up at the ceiling fan turning in lazy circles, relaxing further into the bed that doesn't feel as firm as his. Will's hands wrap in the comforter, dark blue sheets twisting beneath him as he lets out a breathless laugh at the hands tracing up his sides. There's a haze to his mind, thoughts fogging over like his thoughts can't move fast enough inside his own brain. Will wants to push it away, to think about why he can't think. But it's so much easier just to sink into the cloudy feeling.

He does.

"Will where did you go?" Will's eyes refocus slowly, blinky slowly as they focus on the mop of black hair on top of Mike's head. The ends tickle his forehead where the other boy leans over Will, propped up by hands on either side of his head.

"I'm here." Will whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat. He blinks, everything becoming a little clearer and he frowns. This isn't right. Something is wrong. He shakes his head, struggling to remember his last thought as Mike leans closer.

"Relax, everything's okay." A pounding in Will's head makes him wince, bringing a hand up to cradle his forehead. Mike's face suddenly seems off, smile too wide, eyes too big. He leans closer, face dipping inches away from Will who flinches away. Stop. Think. What is this? Will's eyes dart around, away from Mike, and they struggle to focus on the room around him. It's Mike's room, but the walls are...melting. Revealing the vast darkness just outside of them. "Focus on me, Will." A hand grips his chin, too tightly, and his attention returns to the boy whose face is only a breath away.

"N-not right." Will's voice is only a breath as he's forced to stare at Mike's face. His grin has turned predatory, a dangerous glint in his eyes as his grip tightens on Will's chin. Snap out of it, Will. He struggles to force his limbs to move, to fight past that cloudiness surrounding him. The fog takes hold of his mind in a clawed grip, digging in painfully until sharp stings of pain assault his skull.

"Shh. Just relax, Will." Mike whispers in his ear, hand moving down to grab his throat in a crushing grip. Wake up, Will. A voice at the back of his head makes him struggle against the paralysis welding him to the bed. His fingers twitch, the hand around his neck tightening unbearably. It's time to wake up. That voice echos louder, and his breath cuts off with a wheeze.

Help. Somebody help me. His eyes stare up at Mike, wide and fearful, and the other boy's smile drips with sadistic intent. Pale skin turning gaunt, eyes paling until they're almost completely white, blood spilling out from between his teeth to drip down across his lip and chin. Will feels the tears staining his cheeks as his vision darkens, struggling to stay awake while his lungs scream for air. WAKE UP. His hands fist the sheets, coming up to shove fully against Mike's chest.

He's freefalling suddenly, room fading into smoke to make way for the darkness he's become accustomed to. He screams, the sound echoing in the empty as he continues to fall. His back hits shallow water, all the air punched out of his lungs and he coughs.

Will turns on his side with a groan, struggling to inhale lungfuls of air as his eyes dart around the dark. This, again. His head throbs, limbs shaking as he struggles to stand up from the...ground?

He turns in a circle, arms coming up to wrap around his middle as he shivers. The darkness only seems to expand the more he looks around, steps echoing and water sloshing. Around him, an image is built.

Will stares at his bedroom, the old one back in Hawkins with the broken window screen and his bed frame which is dipping slightly on the left. He finds himself sitting on it, facing the door as a familiar person is built from smoke. Will's father stares at him in silence, impossibly still like someone's hit pause. Then they hit play.