The other Mayfield (Will Byers X Reader)

003. Holly wheeler?

~Y/n POV~

It had been two years.

Two years since we'd ended up trapped here. Two years of scavenging, hiding, and learning how to survive in a place that felt stitched together from nightmares and half-remembered lives. Two years of sharing space with Vecnussy.

Two years since I'd last seen Will.

Since I'd felt his arms around me. Since I'd been able to remind myself that the world outside this place was real, and not just something my brain was keeping alive out of spite.

Max and I had settled into that routine we talked about, not because it was comforting, but because routine kept us alive.

One of us stayed on guard, hidden near Vecna's house, watching for movement, patterns, anything new. The other slipped into the memories, Henry's memories, pulling supplies from places.

We'd seen a lot.

Personal? Whose cares. Emotional? Cinema. Disgusting? Yes.

All of them were entertaining, kind felt like a movie you'd watch live.

Honestly, I preferred memory runs.

Even with all the messed-up stuff, they were... interesting. Distracting. It beat sitting in a bush for hours, waiting for Henry to do something.

And yeah, there were perks.

Learning embarrassing secrets about teachers who never gave me a break in school? Incredible. Watching Hopper stumble through his teenage years, awkward and painfully human? Absolutely priceless. Blackmail-worthy, even though mostly I just kept those memories tucked away for my own entertainment.

Right now, though, I was on guard duty.

Max had gone out to scavenge for food, leaving me crouched low in the brush across from Vecna's house. We'd managed to steal two walkie-talkies from one of Henry's old memories, his room, before everything went to hell, and they'd become our lifeline.

I'd been watching for hours.

Nothing happened.

No movement. No lights. No creepy red bullshit crawling across the walls.

Henry had been leaving the house more often lately, vanishing for hours at a time. Today, though, he'd been quiet. Too quiet.

I almost let myself relax. That was my mistake.

The front door creaked open.

I dropped lower into the bushes, heart slamming as I watched him step outside. He didn't hesitate. Didn't look around. Just started walking, down the sidewalk, away from the house, disappearing deeper into whatever version of Hawkins this place had twisted itself into. He was in his normal person look. Normal clothes. All that shit.

I grabbed the walkie, fingers tight around it. "Max," I whispered, keeping my voice low. "He's on the move. Over."

There was a pause, just long enough to make my chest tighten.

Then static crackled. "Okay," she said. "Get back to the cave. Over."

I didn't argue.

I bolted, staying low, weaving through trees and broken ground until the cave entrance came into view. I slipped inside, breathless, adrenaline buzzing through my veins.

Max was already there, kneeling on the floor, unpacking a bag she'd pulled from a school memory. She barely looked up when I came in.

We'd turned the cave into something close to a home, if you squinted hard enough.