𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍
NOVEMBER 2ND, 1984

Joyce had finally given in. After Mike and Scarlette revealed their suspicions about the Shadow Monster causing Will's "now-memories," there was no point in denying it any longer. She knew these kids—they weren't just any kids; they were the same ones who found her son when no one else could. If anyone could help again, it was them. But still, as she opened the door wider to let them in, a knot tightened in her stomach. She hated putting them in more danger, but the looming darkness outside seemed to leave her no choice.

The atmosphere in the Byers home felt thick, almost suffocating. Scarlette and Mike moved quietly through the hallway, their footsteps falling heavier than usual as if the very air was weighing them down. They exchanged glances as they approached Will's door, neither one needing to say out loud how nervous they were. Scarlette's hand hovered over the doorknob for a moment, her breath catching in her throat before she pushed it open.

Will sat on his bed, or rather, he slumped—his pale skin glistened with sweat, and his hollowed eyes looked more like bruises than anything else. It wasn't just that he looked like he hadn't slept; he looked haunted, as if something far darker than nightmares had crawled its way inside him and refused to let go. He was like a living echo, not quite there, but still tethered to the present by something they couldn't quite grasp. Scarlette's heart twisted at the sight of him, her usual sharpness dulled into silent concern.

The two of them sat down on either side of him, the silence in the room almost too loud. Will didn't look at either of them, his gaze fixed on some point ahead, as if looking at them might shatter whatever fragile wall he had built to keep himself together. Mike glanced around the room, his eyes scanning the endless web of drawings plastered across the walls. It was like being inside Will's mind—a chaotic, unnerving reflection of the darkness creeping closer. He noticed them before but hadn't truly seen them until now. Each scribble, each line, was a cry for help disguised as art.

Scarlette, though, stayed by Will's side, her focus solely on him. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease settling in her chest. He looked drenched in sweat, and it made her skin crawl to sit so close to him, but she shoved those feelings aside. This was Will. Her friend. He needed her, and that mattered more than anything. She leaned in slightly, her voice low but steady, "Like in the Upside Down?" Her and Mike's voices collided as they said it in sync, drawing a brief, annoyed eye roll from her, but she quickly turned back to Will, her eyes searching his face.

Will slowly nodded, but there was no life in his response, only a weary acknowledgment of something he couldn't escape. "Some of him is there," he whispered, his voice flat yet dripping with fear. "But some of him is here too."

The words sent a cold shiver down Scarlette's spine. It wasn't just what Will said—it was how he said it, as if something was slipping away from him with each word. The Will she had known seemed farther and farther away, like he was being swallowed by the very thing he feared. Mike swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Here... like in this house?" His question barely cut through the heavy air between them.

Will still didn't look at them. His eyes remained fixed on the blank wall ahead, his pale face stiff with fear. Scarlette brought her hand to her mouth, trying to keep her own dread in check. She wasn't sure what scared her more—the Shadow Monster itself or the way it was hollowing Will out from the inside. "In this house and..." Will's voice cracked, his lip quivering, the small tremor in his voice betraying how close he was to falling apart. "In me."

The admission hung in the air like a storm cloud, thick and heavy. Mike sank down next to Will, his earlier frustration evaporating into something softer, more fragile. Neither he nor Scarlette could tear their eyes away from Will as he sat there, breaking down in front of them. "It's like... it's like he's reaching into Hawkins. More and more," Will continued, his fists clenching tightly in his lap as if he was physically holding himself together. "And the more he spreads, the more connected to him I feel."

Mike pieced it together, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. "And the more you see these now-memories," he said softly, glancing over at Scarlette. Her eyes were already misty, her lips pressed into a tight line. She wiped a stray tear, offering Mike a small, sad smile before they both turned back to Will. There was no comfort in knowing the truth, only a deeper plunge into the unknown.

Will's voice shook as he explained. "At first, I just felt it in the back of my head, like... like when you have a dream but can't remember it. I didn't even know it was there unless I thought really hard." He touched the back of his neck, his hand trembling. "But now I remember. All the time."

Scarlette noticed the way his arm shook uncontrollably, and without thinking, she reached out, placing her hand gently over his. Her touch was meant to soothe him, but it felt like trying to calm a storm. Will didn't acknowledge her, just kept speaking, the words spilling out like a confession he couldn't keep inside any longer. "Now, I can't stop remembering."

Silence draped itself over the room. Scarlette didn't have the answers, none of them did. She felt useless, sitting there as Will unraveled before them. "Maybe... that's good," Mike offered, his voice hesitant. Scarlette blinked at him in disbelief, her mind racing—how could any of this be good? She thought the same thing Will seemed to be thinking as he slowly turned toward Mike, confusion etched into every line of his face.

"Good?" Will's voice barely sounded like his own anymore.

Mike pressed on, trying to make sense of the senseless. "Think about it, Will. You're like a spy now—a superspy. You're spying on the Shadow Monster. If you can see what he's seeing, maybe that's how we can stop him. Maybe all of this is happening for a reason."

For the first time, Will tore his gaze from the wall, locking eyes with Mike. "You really think so?" he asked quietly, the hope in his voice so fragile it sounded like it might break with one wrong word.

Mike nodded, his voice tender. "Yeah. Yeah, I really do." But Will wasn't convinced; his eyes drifted back to the ominous drawings strewn across the floor.

Scarlette, sensing the tension building, stood and walked toward one of the drawings, her fingers brushing over the paper. The lines were jagged, frantic—just like Will's state of mind. She could hear his voice trembling from behind her. "What if he figures out we're spying on him?" Scarlette turned, meeting his wide, fearful eyes, her heart breaking at the sight.

"What if he spies back?" Will's voice cracked, the sheer weight of his fear nearly unbearable. Before Scarlette could speak, Mike was already answering, his voice firm. "He won't."

Will's desperation broke through. "How do you know?" His eyes pleaded for reassurance.

Mike moved closer, placing his hand over Will's in a show of solidarity, his voice unwavering. "We won't let him." The words hung in the air like a promise, one Scarlette desperately wanted to believe. She knelt down in front of Will, resting her hands on his knees, her gaze soft but filled with determination. "We're here, Will. He won't hurt you. We promise."

a/n
poor will🥲

it's gonna get angsty