"Will!"

Shaking his head, the small boy quickens his steps. He hopes he's fast enough to avoid confronting the familiar voice, his head already swimming with negativity.

"Will, wait!"

Hopping up the stairs leading to Hawkins High, Will pulled open the double doors. Stepping in, he heard the clumsy footsteps of his old crush following him in. He was only a couple feet away from his locker when he found his path being blocked off. He's frozen in place as a familiar freckled boy stands in his path. As hard as he tries, he can't glare at them. Can't yell, can't protest. There was too much history. The older boy's bright brown eyes are narrowed in sadness.

"Will, please." He pants, tired from the distance he just ran. Will bit his cheek to keep from showing the guilt that panged around in his gut. Slowing his pace, he walks slow enough for him to follow as he approaches his locker.

Right to 20, Left past zero and to five, right to 34.

"I think we should talk."

Will scoffs, his locker door drifting open. He doesn't remember when he got so aloof. His gaze drifted to the locker to his left, the door covered in fake notes and old photographs. It made him sick that people only chose to care after someone ends up dead. His attention falls on a pair of heart-wrenchingly beautiful brown eyes and his frown deepens. The ghost grins at him, dimples just as evident as ever. Will blinks and they're gone. Shaking away the memories, he pulls out his history textbook, sliding it into his backpack. Shutting the locker, he throws the dial.

Turning, the taller boy's eyes capture his. He'd almost forgotten he was there. Will finds himself frowning, old wounds tearing open. Shaking his head, he fought to hide the lump that threatened to release how he was really feeling.

"What is there to talk about, Mike?" Shaking his head, Mike grew visibly anxious.

"I-I don't know, Will." Will's frown deepened. "I don't know."

Averting his gaze, Will let his eyes take in the suddenly interesting floor tiles. He taps the front of his sneaker on the tiles creating a new scuff for the janitor to complain about. The bell rings to hurry kids to their classes. In another three minutes, the late bell would ring and Will did not need another late on his record. Lifting his head, he took a deep breath. He can still feel Mike's eyes burning through his face, burrowing permanent indents into his psyche.

Every time he managed to get away, everything came rushing back with so much force.

"What happened to us, Will..?"

Shaking his head, Will drew in a shaky breath. Turning to look at Mike, he let his eyes trace every feature on his face. Connect the dots of his freckles into constellations and ingrain the already unforgettable face into his brain. The goodbye was always the hardest part. Tearing his gaze away, he blinks away the tears that gathered in his eyes.

His voice is hard as he mutters. "I don't know either, Mike." A soft sniffle from Mike and Will knows it's time to go.

"Late-Bye, Mike."

He starts the walk towards his first period, leaving Mike behind at his locker.

Will slides his keys into the lock of his front door, pushing open the slab of wood. He lets it drift closed behind him, reaching back and locking the door. Soft conversation echoes from the small kitchen as Will removes his shoes. The new puppy, Chet, was sleeping under the coffee table just a couple feet away. The voices sound distinctly like Hopper and his mother, but he was never sure if Jane would be in there or not. He takes a soft breath to calm himself, stepping into the kitchen doorway. As he had predicted, there in the room stood most of his 'family'.

Hopper and Jane were more strained family. Hopper and his mother were dating, but that didn't make him his dad and it didn't make Jane his sister. Not to him. Jane's gaze falls on him, pity hiding somewhere behind her emotionless expression.

"Hey, mom," Will calls, gracing his mother with a smile as soon as she turns to him. She seems to glow in his presence, rushing in and pulling him into a hug. He appreciates the affectionate touch a lot more than he realized. When she pulls away, he feels empty, ready to retreat to his room.

"Oh, Will! The school called again today, Hopper and I thought we'd, you know," Will and Jane share a gaze as Hopper takes a long sip from his coffee. It seemed like all the time was time for coffee.

"Kill two birds with one stone. I know it gets tiresome, but-"

Will smiles, shaking his head. He always tries to put on a brave face for his mother. She worried too much and when she worried it got the whole family stressed. There was no point in fighting it.

"It's alright, mom. Let's... Talk." He tries, taking a seat beside Jane. Jane's gaze stays trained on Will's face as Hopper takes a seat across from Will. Joyce stayed standing, her hand placed carefully on Hopper's shoulder as he initiated the family meeting. It was long and dreary and the same as before. All the same questions with all the same answers.

I didn't know him that well.

Yes, I'm sure.

I won't, I promise.

Family is more important than anything, I know.

I... Love you guys, too.

When Jane and Will are finally released, they retreat to his room. This was a normal occurrence for the two of them. It was like a ritual and Will was thankful to have that constant while the rest of his life spiraled out of control. Jane took her place on his bed as he took a seat at his desk, staring out of the nearest window. While they were having the family meeting, his Walkie Talkie continued to buzz with the chatter of his old friends.

Trying to reconnect, he guessed.

It was sickening and it only made his mind cloudier, but he knew eventually he was either going to have to turn it off or answer them. After all, they were asking for him specifically. Each of them. His bag again crackled, Dustin's voice now coming through. He asks if anyone's been able to get in contact with Will. Lucas grumbles out a begrudged no and Mike's voice is hoarse as he again asks for them to leave Will alone.

Max's voice comes next, ominous and vague, "No one can just be left alone anymore, Mike." Jane reaches into the bag, pulling out the device. She meets Will's eyes briefly, before nodding. She holds the button, her gaze strong on the carpeted flooring.

"What?" Silence. Soft crackling and Mike decides to answer. "Hi, El."

"Hello, Mike."

"Jane, have you seen Will?" Lucas asks. Jane was always more hesitant around Lucas than the other boys. Grunting, she glances at Will. "No."

"You're his sister. You practically live with him."

Dustin sighs. "Oh, Lucas, lay off. What the hell do you want to talk to Will for anyways?"

"Listen, collarbone-less, I don't have time for your shit-"

Max shushes them both, a clear frown in her voice. "We never get anything done because you two are always arguing!" Mike's voice chimes, sounding more defeated than before.

"He didn't do anything. Why should we drag him into this...?"

"Because. It's his turn now." Another vague answer from Max. "Well, let's just skip him! Send it to the next person!"

"And risk our futures? By having whoever has the extras send them to the cops? Fuck that, Mike. You're mental." Lucas grumbles before shutting off his side. Mike scoffs. "What I did wasn't as bad as you noids. Get bent." And with that, his Walkie Talkie cuts out as well. Max seems to have already left, leaving only Dustin and Jane on the line. The silence stretches between the two, Will listening silently from his desk. Halfway through the conversation, he grew too anxious to simply sit there and say nothing.

Their arguing led him to the point of stress sketching, his stomach all looped up in constant knots.

Now his hand won't stop.

"Later, Jane. Say bye to Will for me, will ya?" Nodding softly, Jane sighed.

"Yes. Goodbye, Dustin."

Click.

Jane puts the Walkie Talkie back into Will's bag, a breath of relief leaving her mouth. Will doesn't turn to see what she's doing, his entire attention focused on the rough sketch of the view outside his window. He can hear her rummaging around, mumbling softly to herself before a package is dropped onto the desk beside his head. Looking up at her, he's not daft to the obvious discomfort and sadness in her eyes.

"Someone... Dropped this off for you. I'm sorry."

His bedroom door shuts and Will stares at the ugly brown box sitting on his desk. Scrawled messily along the top, between two clumsily placed slabs of tape is his name.

William Byers.

But no return address.