Chapter Text
He had that dream again. The one where he was lost in that place. Dustin, Lucas and Mike had called it the Upside Down, a nightmare version of Hawkins. They said that El had been able to find it before. That she had made it. Maybe that was true. But the place he’d been in… it hadn’t looked like Hawkins. It looked like a landscape of hell. Literally hell.
It was a putrid yellow that stank of old sulphur and rotting corpses. No. He didn’t know why he knew what corpses smelt like. But it had a horrid smell. It was like decay and wet meat that you’d find in the butchers’. And he had seen the Mind Flayer and it had… done something to him
He didn’t want to know what.
The only time he remembered that he’d been in this nightmare realm of Hawkins was when the other one had found him. He doesn’t know how it found him, but when it did. It dragged him back to the blue and red place his friends had spoken about. And it had him on the wall—
He snapped his eyes open to his ceiling.
The paint was peeling from the lack of care he put into it, the last two years it'd been melting away, decaying like his life. Why did it take him? Why had it given him powers? Why was he still here? Even after he betrayed it, why could he still feel them inside of him? Why did he feel the powers bumbling, restless, waiting for him to wake them up again?
He wasn't sure if he wanted to wake them up. It could be that he'd be like Eleven, a wizard, the sort that runs headfirst into battle against the monsters and the people who want to hurt them. Or it could be that he'd be a puppet again. A toy to be pulled around on the strings of the other one and the Mind Flayer. Guided to betraying everyone he loves. Forced to watch them die.
He could feel it now. The slippery slick of blood and organs pulsating on his hands. If he opened his eyes would he see all his friends dead again? Lucas had been torn apart, or was he being eaten by the demogorgon this time? Was Dustin holding his innards and screaming? Or was his head rolling against the burnt ground of that nightmare world? Was Max in a coma? Or was she blinded and broken? Was El a thousand pieces spread across the nightmare place? Or was she choking, holding the other ones’ hand where it had speared her? Was Mike riddled with gunshots? Or was he standing above him? Sneering at the way he was different from him and the others? Laughing about the fact that he didn't like girls?
He didn't know which one he preferred.
He turned towards his open window and sighed at the ghostlight of dawn peeking in through his curtains.
How long was he asleep? Considering he felt a throbbing headache, he was willing to bet not long enough. The summer months were harder than October and November. He wasn't sure why, the closer he got to his anniversary is when he should be having problems sleeping at least that's what Owens had said when he'd been brought to the lab all of last year.
But then again, he supposed Owens was used to being wrong.
He'd never liked summer. It was smoggy and hot and his clothes stuck to his back, and his sweat stunk and clinged to him like a stubborn koala. The smell of burning tarmac made his nose burn and his eyes water. After last year when his mom had branded him with the fire poker the heat and the scar were another bitter reminder that he wasn't normal.
He rolled out of bed despite his broken body's protest and walked towards his wardrobe. He was up now. What use was it in going back to bed? It'd just be another nightmare.
He stared half lidded at the clothes he had hung. They were all small and childish in style. He knew somewhere inside of him that he was too old to keep using childish things. The bigger part didn't care. They weren't just old clothes. They were stitches to hold the zombie boy together.
___
The eggs gleamed like some distant memory of a sandstorm and a shadow on the horizon. The sounds of something chittering clicked in his ears, coming closer and closer. They were coming for him. They were going to drag him away. They were coming for him. They always did.
“Will?”
He wrenched his arm from his mother's grip and blinked at her. Joyce held her hands up, she bit her lips and spoke softer, stepped lighter.
“Are you okay, baby?” She asked him.
He hated when she called him that. After what she did to him last year. That burn scar still stung and the bandages still had to be changed, they couldn't afford insurance. He had to make do with what Jonathan could do about it. Which wasn't great. Owens cleaned it up but the scar was grim. That was coming from someone who liked horror.
“Fine.” He said.
He moved his arm away from her while Jonathan gently placed his plate down in front of him, he handed the syrup over and sat down at the head. His mom looked at Jonathan desperately and Jonathan sighed and asked him.
“Are you excited? Dustin's coming home today.”
Will found his lips twitching, that he was actually happy about, he'd missed him so much. The party hadn't felt the same without him. Nothing about the party seemed to be the same this year. Mike and Lucas were always distracted, chasing their girlfriends like lost puppies. It was kind of pathetic. That's what Jonathan said.
“He'll be home at what time was it?” Jonathan asked.
“He said maybe 2 or 3. He has to go to a Sunday thing that his camp does every weekend.” Will said.
Dustin hated it. He'd written about Sunday school enough to make his head hurt. His family weren’t religious but when Lonnie had been here he used to make them go to church every Christmas. He didn't know what exactly made most people froth at the mouth for it. It seemed like it was some old guy lecturing them about self important stuff and judging people at any opportunity despite the fact that the priest had done more than one of those “sins” he was always banging on about.
“Oh, Sunday school?” Jonathan made a face that Will gave a little laugh at. “Poor guy, am I right?”
Will nodded. He let out another laugh when Jonathan rustled up his horrible haircut.
“Better eat your eggs and get your butt over to Dustins’ house, huh?”
___
Mike was most rudely awakened by someone throwing themselves onto his bed spread. He let out a startled yelp and his eyes sprang open to see Holly beaming at him with a mischievous smile.
“Breakfast!” She said,
“Jesus, you didn't need to do that to wake me up, Holly.” Mike groaned.
“Michael!” His mom screeched from downstairs.
He hated days like this. His mom was always screaming at him, but she seemed particularly naggy today, which meant it must be Sunday. Sundays were the most hectic days in their house. His dad was a devoted Catholic. He knew his church and Sunday School like the back of his hand at this rate.
His mom didn't like it as much as his dad did. She thought the church smelt like burnt metal and it was always so stuffed there that being in the church in summer was like they were getting deep fried.
Their dad still made them go, how he was able to sit there dressed like he was going to a funeral and not be smoked alive was beyond Mike's comprehension.
“Michael!” His mom yelled again.
“I'm coming!” he snapped back.
___
He pulled on his shirt and tried to air out his sweating neck while his mom placed a plate in front of him and motioned for him to hurry up.
“Michael, we're already late, if you don't hurry up, you can donate a box of your comics to the library ” His mother said.
Mike's jaw dropped.
“How is that fair! Nancy gets to miss church but suddenly I'm the bad guy because I woke up a little late!” he asked.
“Nancy is working, Michael.” His dad said, sipping his coffee. “You wanna miss out on church? Why don't you ask Nancy if they're looking for a paper boy?”
He glowered at his dad and shoved all the food he could manage into his mouth.
___
The walk towards Dustins’ house seemed never ending. The chittering in the Upside Down and the hellscape sneered and snarled through his mind. The sounds were always there like a never ending bell that kept banging inside his skull.
He knew it was the monsters. He knew it because if he didn't dream of his friends, he dreamt of them. Of seeing the world through their perspective. The yellow world looked different through them. They don't have eyes, so, the way they saw the world was made through smells. And through those smells outlines and buildings and landmarks were built together. Like some frogged knitting project a doddering high schooler made.
And every time he saw through them, he heard those sounds, kind of like demonic birds. They used those sounds to see the world too. It was like an echolocation that bounced off the surfaces and back into their noses which gave him the blurry, half formed world he saw when he was inside their heads. But he’d started hearing those sounds while he was awake too.
They were getting louder.
His feet paved the way down the ghost of downtown Hawkins, closed signs swung in the wind and the smell of steaming wood swallowed him. It was an accident. These things were always accidental on his part. But he found himself staring up at Starcourt Mall for the fourth time this week and it's only Sunday. The bright lights bedazzled him and nearby customers. Even at midday.
He thought it'd only been him who flinched at the lights but the others said the lights hurt their eyes too. He wasn't sure why but since it'd been built, he hated it. Jonathan thought it was just because of the Mall taking their mom's job. But it was more than that. The sight of it made his skin crawl and his goosebumps flare, the ones he'd been getting for months since he'd come back from the Upside Down. The place practically oozed “something isn't right”.
Over the last few months, he‘d made this walk and back again. It used to be worse. It used to be twelve or ten times a week that he'd come here, heading somewhere else and ending up at the front doors. The security had given up on asking him why he was there. He always told them the same thing.
“I don't know.”
What was here that he needed to know? What was here that nobody else could solve but him? Was he losing it? Was he imagining the pull here? Was it really just his anger at this place costing his mom her job?
“Baby Byers?”
Will turned to Steve Harrington. He was dressed in his scoops ahoy outfit. He was holding up a container of wasted ice cream and smashed cones.
“You're a little early for the movie, aren't you?” Steve asked.
The movie? Oh, he'd forgotten that he told Dustin he'd go watch back to the future with him, it was supposed to be a masterpiece or so they say.
“Sorry.” Will said, he blinked back the chittering that kept screeching and the bell that wouldn't stop clanging in his mind. He rubbed his temple slowly, the pressure there kept building and building like it was getting ready to explode. “I got lost.”
“You got lost?” Steve asked in disbelief. “Going to Hendersons’ house? On the other side of town?”
Will didn't give him an answer. What else would he say? He'll think he's crazy either way.
“Do you want me to call someone?” Steve asked. “Your mom?”
“I'm fine!” He snapped.
Steve stared at him like he had five heads and he cursed himself. He didn't mean for it to come out like that.
“You taking your meds?” Steve asked.
Will chewed his lips so he wouldn't yell at him again. Medication, that was a nice thing to call it. Whatever it was, it made him feel off. Usually not feeling his powers would be a good thing but not in this case. The medicine made him woozy, clumsy too. If he took just half of one, he'd be confused for hours, he'll see things that aren't there and he'll be winded for days like he'd gotten a soccer ball to the stomach.
It was a nightmare.
At least when he had these blasted powers on, he knew the battleground he was fighting in. With the medicine it was like he'd been giving acid to see what makes him loopy enough to confuse his powers so they don't get set off.
They were Owens’ idea, he called them something, sotera? He couldn't remember now.
“Of course I have.” He said.
Steve raised an eyebrow, he obviously didn't believe him.
“Look, let me call Jonathan at least? You were staring into space for twenty minutes when I got out here.”
Will scoffed. “I was not!”
He pretended he didn't hear how his voice went higher. It always did when he lied. Steve gave him a rare cheeky smile that made him soften despite himself.
“Okay,” Steve conceded. “But are you sure you're okay?”
Will nodded. “Yeah… I was just lost in thought.”
He had grown to like Steve, you know, he was Jonathan's friend now too. He'd seen him around his house more and more. The more he saw of him, the more he liked him. He was the only person besides Jonathan and Mike who didn't treat him like a freak.
___
Jonathan had the most miserable day at work. He got in and Bruce had him take out all the bins, he'd been yelled at five different times for his “lacklustre” photographs. Nancy was stirring up trouble and practically baiting their bosses to cut them. It was well for her, she had her dad and her mom to keep the lights on. He was never that lucky. With his mom spending most her money on cigarettes and beer, so unlike his precocious co-worker he actually needed this job but try explain that to little miss “I'm-being-victimised” and you'll get her yelling his head off for five damn minutes.
He didn't hate Nancy, usually, but he could see why she and Steve had lasted as long as they did. Two rich kids making it big off their mommy and daddy's bank accounts and whining about the world not being fair to them because they weren't popular anymore or that they were letting jackasses get in the way of their ability to actually do a job.
All he wanted after this horrendous morning was a cup of the Starcourt's blackest coffee and something to read. He got that for about five minutes and then Steve waltzed up to him with his hair shoved under his scooper boy's cap with the most serious look he'd had on his face since he met him and he knew his five minutes of peace and his break were done.
“Hey Byers.” He said.
“Steve.” Jonathan sighed heavily. “If it's all the same to you, I think you're looking at the wrong guy for dating tips and I really need a break—”
“Oh, no!” Steve laughed. “No! I don't need my wing man today, thanks for the offer, I'm actually here about your brother.”
Jonathan blinked.
“Will? He was here? Again?” He asked.
Will had tried to explain the magnetic pull the Mall had on him, but Jonathan felt miserable in how useless he was to understanding his younger brother's fear and confusion. As much as he wished he could, he didn't have all the answers. Steve had been telling him each and every time when Will had come up here. It'd calmed down a little the last few weeks he had hoped it had stopped.
“Yeah, he seemed super out of it, he was just standing here, staring at the ground for like twenty minutes and another five once I came outside, he didn't hear me calling him.” Steve said.
Jonathan drank the last of his coffee in one go. Had he made a mistake taking him off his meds without telling his mom? But he hated them, they made him worse, not better despite what Owens had sworn up and down.
“Thanks,” Jonathan slapped Steve's arm and walked out. Heading towards misery once more and a conversation after neither he or Will wanted.