The other Mayfield (Will Byers X Reader)

011. remember our memories

~Y/n POV~

Hopper, Mike, and I headed out to the backyard of the Byers' house, the cold air biting against our faces as we made our way toward the old shed. The ground was damp from the morning dew, and each step crunched faintly beneath our shoes. The place felt heavier somehow — like the air itself knew what was coming.

We reached the shed, its wooden panels worn and warped from age. Hopper pulled the doors open with a creak, and I peeked inside. Dust drifted lazily in the sunlight cutting through the gaps in the walls. The air smelled like rust and old earth.

"Yeah, this will work," Hopper announced, his voice steady but his eyes distant — probably already planning ten steps ahead.

Hopper and I started emptying out the shed while everyone else went searching for supplies to cover it up. Boxes, tools, an old lawn chair — all of it went flying out into the grass. Mike stood nearby, pacing nervously, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

After tossing out the last box, I wiped the dust off my hands and joined Nancy and Steve, who were trying to hang up thick tarps and boards across the inside walls. The silence between us was... awkward. Heavy. None of us really knew what to say after everything that had happened.

Finally, Nancy decided to break it.

"Hey... what you did... um, helping the kids... that was really cool," she sputtered out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Yeah... those little shits are real trouble, you know," Steve said, his tone somewhere between teasing and exhausted.

"HEY," I glared, crossing my arms. He raised both hands in mock defense.

"I was talking about certain people... like maybe Dustin, Max, Lucas..." he said, grinning as Nancy and I both giggled.

"But believe me, I know," she said, shaking her head with that sharp, yet affectionate tone she always had — the one that made it clear she sees everything but still cares.

"Me too. Half the time it's me, half the time it's Max, and her making googly eyes at Lucas doesn't help," I said, rolling my eyes dramatically. Nancy laughed, the sound light and easy, like the momentary release of tension we all needed.

Steve leaned back against the wall, resting the tarp in his hands. "You're funny, you know," Nancy said, her smirk softened into something warmer but still confident, as she adjusted the edge of the tarp.

"I know," I said with a smirk, handing her the staple gun.

For a moment, it felt almost normal. The laughter, the teasing — it was like a small bubble of peace in all the chaos. But as I looked around at the half-covered walls, the flickering lightbulb, and the distant rumble of thunder, that feeling faded fast. Because deep down, we all knew what we were doing — preparing a trap in the middle of a war.

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We were all done with disguising the shed and had tied Will up to the post, making sure it was tight enough that he couldn't wiggle free. Joyce, Hopper, Mike, Jonathan, and I stayed inside the shed while the others went back into the house to keep watch. The air was tense, heavy with anticipation, and the shadows from the half-hung tarps stretched across the floor.

"Alright, you ready?" Hopper asked, glancing at each of us.

"Yeah," we all murmured.

Hopper then grabbed some dish soap, smeared it on a bit of fluff, and held it gently against Will's nose. His eyes shot open with a gasp, squinting against the dim light, trying to focus. His gaze met mine for a brief second before darting away as he tried to push himself up.