The other Mayfield (Will Byers X Reader)

001. His Memories

~Y/n POV~

I thought dying would be loud.
Sirens. Screaming. Darkness crashing in all at once.

Instead, it was quiet.

So quiet it felt wrong, like the world had paused mid-breath and forgotten how to start again.

There was no floor beneath me,
no sky above me.

Just light.

Not the sharp kind that hurts your eyes,
but soft...endless... layered.
White folding into white, stretching forever in every direction.

I couldn't tell where I ended and it began.

I didn't feel my body.
Didn't feel my chest rise or fall.
Didn't feel the ache, the fear, the weight that had lived inside me for so long.

For the first time in forever,
nothing was pulling at me.

No guilt.
No memories clawing their way up my throat.
No fear that if I closed my eyes, something terrible would be waiting.

I wondered if this was what peace felt like.

I wondered if this was where people went
when they were finally done fighting.

Then I heard my name.

Not shouted.
Not whispered.

Just... spoken.
Like it had always been there, waiting for me to notice.

"Y/N."

I turned, or maybe I didn't.
Movement felt unnecessary here.
Things just happened.

He stood a few steps away.

Billy.

Not the version burned into my nightmares.
Not the one frozen in that last moment.

This Billy looked... different.

He wasn't dressed in leather or denim or anything sharp.
He wore something light, soft, loose, almost colorless... like it belonged to the place itself.
Nothing clung to him. Nothing weighed him down.

His face wasn't hardened.
No scowl etched into his mouth.
No anger pulled tight beneath his skin.

The lines I'd learned to fear were gone.

He looked peaceful.

Not happy.
Not smiling wide.

Just... calm.

Like whatever had been eating at him had finally let go.

This Billy looked whole in a way I didn't know was possible.

He looked at me like he already knew everything I was about to say.

"I didn't mean it," I said immediately, the words spilling out of me.
"I didn't mean to wish you dead. I didn't mean to think those things."

My voice didn't echo.
It didn't shake.

It just existed.

Billy smiled, not sharp, not cruel.
Soft. Almost sad.

"I know," he said.

That was it.

No accusations.
No judgment.

Just knowing.

I felt something loosen inside me then, something deep and tight, something I'd been carrying so long I'd forgotten it was there.

"You're tired," he said gently.

And God, he was right.

Not just tired like you are after a long day.
Tired in the way your bones feel heavy.
Tired in the way breathing sometimes feels like work.