𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя ѕιχ -

DURING THE REST of the weekend, Will was on edge.

Every sound, every sudden movement made him jump in fear. Though he had no other episodes, he was scared to leave the house, scared that something loud would send him into another flashback. That cold feeling didn't leave his stomach at all, no matter how many hot showers he took or how long he cuddled with Mike under his blanket.

He tried distracting himself, by spending time with Mike. A LOT of time- and it almost worked, because even if cuddling with him never eased the chill in his stomach it still distracted him for a little while.

And that's what he did all of Sunday, and most of Saturday; just him and Mike. Talking, cuddling, and doing some... Very distracting things.

Trying to make everything feel normal again.

But when Monday rolled around, Will had no choice but to leave his beloved house and venture into class on his own.

 As he walked the college ground, he felt his muscles tensing.Suddenly he was aware of all the car noises, all the talking, the yelling, and it all became too much. His breathing exhilarated, the noise seeming to get louder and louder, and he put his hands on his ears, not caring how idiotic he must've looked. anything to stop the noise, but it just got louder. He felt his head start to spin. Why had he come? He wasn't up for this. He should go back home, he should-

He stopped his racing mind. This was the beginning of a panic attack- and he wouldn't have a panic attack. Not now. He couldn't stand having an episode and a panic attack less than 72 hours apart. He had to keep calm.

He staggered to  the class, trying to ignore his spinning head. His fell into his seat, closing his eyes tightly and taking a few deep breaths.

you're fine, he tried, you're happy. You're not going back to your episodes, it was just one tiny one. You're good. you're happy, you're sober. You're happy, everything is good. Everything is-

"Hi!" A loud voice called by his ear, so surprising it made him literally jump up.
"Jeesh, what's wrong with you?" It was Bev, sitting next to him casually and throwing her bag on the table.

"nothing- what are you doing in this class?" Will asked, turning a deep scarlet. Bev shrugged.
"You know I want to be a fashion designer, I have to know some sketching at least."

"Oh, welcome," Will muttered, smiling. He was genuinely glad to have Bev with him, he liked her a lot- but he had a feeling she had no idea what class she just put herself in. He was about to warn her, but she started talking before he could.

"Shit, it's hot in here." Beverly said, removing her faux fur black jacket and rolling up the sleeves of her green-white shirt, "How are you not dead?"

Will didn't know what she was talking about. He was basically frozen, even decked in his warmest coat and a sweater. But maybe that was just his frozen gut...

"Sketchbooks out!" The voice of their professor, Mr. Mack, called as he rushed into the room. Will liked Mr. Mack- but he may have been the only one. He was in his late 60's at the very least, and used to be a very successful sketch artist.

To this day, he holds parties with the works of select students.

Those parties are the stuff of legends- so many people in the field go to them, if your work is featured your career basically skyrockets. 

Only about 7 students, usually seniors, participated each year. It was the greatest honor an art major could have.

Mr. Mack's classes were always at full capacity, students tried their hardest to get noticed by the old professor- but since there were so many students, Will was pretty sure he never even looked his way. He was okay with that, it felt like too much pressure to be noticed by him; and besides, he was sure he wasn't good enough.

The classes were insanely hard. Like, really really hard.

"Today we have a pop quiz. Give me a sketch that tells me what you think your worst quality is, no words allowed, and please!!! No boring self portraits. Be creative. You have 95 minutes, starting now." And with a stern look he sat down in his seat and continued scanning the class.

The swooshing of paper and rustling of pencils started as students started working.

Bev looked at Will with shock, but he smiled. This was just Mr. Mack's way of teaching- it was both awesome and stress inducing.

The class was silent except for the slight dragging of pencils on paper. Will stared at his blank paper, no idea how to even start. How did he see himself?

cLaNk

ClAnk

In the first row, a blonde student dropped her pencil on the floor. The sound echoed in the huge, silent class so loud that everyone turned towards the flustered woman, who hurried to pick it up.

But it was too late for Will; with a sudden flash the lights in the classroom went out, and he found himself in the alternate dimension once again.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

This time, he wasn't back in Hawkins. This time, it was just the classroom.

Empty, huge, full of curly vines and tiny specks of that white substance that floated everywhere. It was Completely silent.

His mind was blank with fear, fury. This couldn't be happening. He couldn't just be in the upside down- that's not how it worked. That's not how this worked!

"Bev? Anyone?" He called out, but his voice echoed back to him a million times over.

Anyone?

 Anyone? 

Anyone?

He closed his eyes tightly, shaking violently. Snap out of it! It's not real! snap out of it!

Nothing. Everything was the same.

He jumped up, running through the empty rows towards the door. He grabbed the handle, but it wouldn't open no matter how hard he pulled it. What was going on? This door was never locked!

"STOP IT! LET ME OUT!" He called, not really talking about the door.

out,

 out, 

out, 

out...

He kept shaking the handle, trying to find anyway to get out. What if something came? What if-

suddenly, through the windows, he saw a shape... the shape... His breath escaped from his mouth in a tiny gasp, his hands locking to his sides as the mind flayer became more and more clear...

And just like that, the lights turned back on.