WILL POV -

---- One Week Later; Wednesday 1:32 PM ----

Poking his head around the figures blocking his view, the brunette waited in line patiently, barely noticing the crowd as he advanced forward with a basket of groceries in his hand; mostly just instant-made foods and dog treats – he tried cooking, but it was difficult with a cast.

This routine had become a staple at this point, once a week gorging himself in simple tasks he was familiar with; grocery shopping, collecting parcels, doing laundry... all things he found oddly comforting... but he couldn't help but feel an itch, like something was missing, something that was pulled away so violently it left a scar.

Tapping his foot up and down growing slightly impatient, the boy watched as the person before him was rung up.

Life had become boring ever since school ended... part of him actually wanted to go back! He never thought he'd say that, but with the way his senior year went, he wouldn't mind repeating the entire year all over again.

But why had things changed so drastically this past year?

Absentmindedly, Will took the items out his basket, carefully setting them down on the conveyer. The line behind him grew. He rummaged his wallet for cash he had earnt from his job; something about it felt euphoric, using the money he earned to buy items he needed...

And yet, he promised himself to make enough money to give someone else an easier life – it was someone outside his family, a friend maybe? He promised to work so they never had to, so they would rely on him... it didn't help that he couldn't remember who.

Will thanked the worker with a friendly smile as he handed over the money, taking his bags, the task difficult due to his splint. His wrist was luckily healing at the rate it was supposed to, and hopefully it would be fully healed by graduation; that was the dream, at least.

Shaking his head, he started his commute home, making the long, but necessary journey; he couldn't even ride a bike in the condition his arm was in. When he did try, he got quite far, well at least until Dustin caught him and confiscated the bike until the splint was removed.

As he passed the train station, he couldn't help but glance inside, seeing the quiet hum of the place seeping into his senses. The station was near-empty at this hour, but then again, it was nearly-empty at all hours. Will wasn't sure why there even was a train station in Hawkins... it felt oddly specific, as if to fill a checklist of landmarks in the town, but he'd never questioned it before.

"Hey, Will!"

The brunette whipped his head around; did someone call him? The same familiar voice continuing to talk, "Let me at least help you with your bags. They look heavy."

Bags? What bags? His grocery bag?

For a second, Will worried he may be going crazy; he kept having these visions, or hallucinations or whatever one may call them. Just short, almost missable moments when he felt as if his past and future tangled, congealed into one.

He found himself slowing, spending just a few extra moments near the entrance, remembering when he was at his lowest point, wanting to leave town and do something drastic... what made him stop?

He blamed himself for everything; the reason his mom was in prison, why Jonathan was addicted to drugs... even why his parents constantly fought.

On that day, he didn't want to be here anymore, not in Hawkins, not in Indiana, not even on the Earth... he didn't want to be alive anymore.

Part of him wondered if someone he knew would suddenly pop up from the streets and tackle him... why did he remember the concrete feeling so cold?

"Come on, we're going to my house,"

Hmm? Whose house?

That's the question he wanted to ask; if this was him, why couldn't he remember?

Feelings grew stronger, words shouting out to him, brushing past his ears with a warmth that carried familiarity and peace. These weren't fragments of forgotten dreams, nor movies he'd watched – these were living, breathing moments; so personal and pure.

Taking a deep breath, Will looked down at his hands, stepping away from the train station and through the woods, following the trail until seeing the familiar house in the distance; his home.

The contents of the bag rustled as he climbed the patio. He set the bag down to search his pocket for his keys, pulling it out with much difficulty. He had an extra pair of keys: an older, almost rusted one and a sleeky, fresh one.

He paused, taking notice of the door handle. The rest of the door was the same as ever, worn down by constant years of use. Paint chipped in places, fading to reveal the aged oak underneath, and the edges splintered to provide texture. The handle, however, was a stark contrast, a bright light reflecting under the golden sun, standing out against the roughness of the old door.

Someone broke the old one, and it had been replaced.

A small smile crept on his face, tilting his head at this oddity; why did he laugh? Shouldn't he feel sad it was replaced? It was comforting, the small detail acting as a reminder someone cared enough to replace it, even if the rest of his house was falling apart.

Who broke it anyway?

Keys jingled in his hand as he placed them into the lock, turning till he heard a small click, pushing the door open. Will slipped off his shoes, greeting the dog who was already waging his tail at the arrival,

"Hey buddy!" Will crouched down, giggling for the first time in what felt like forever. He scratched behind his ears, grinning at the simplicity of Chester's excitement. "Alright, alright, I got your lunch!" he said, holding up the bag before immediately scooping food into the dog bowl.

As Chester ate, Will turned, preparing a simple meal for himself. He wasn't keen on making anything fancy—he wasn't exactly a chef. He knew how to make a few meals but couldn't remember where he learnt them from. He assumed online videos, but he could never seem to find those same recipes again.

Digging into his bag he reached for the packet of instant noodles. Instead of popping it into the microwave like expected, he filled a pan with water, setting it to simmer on the stove. A few seconds passed and bubbles appeared, so he plopped the noodles in gently, stopping backsplash, watching them soften and spread in the steaming water.

Déjà vu crept over him again, when did he start cooking these in a pan? He was the definition of convenience, yet here he was standing by the stove with a wooden spoon, stirring noodles as they took almost five-times the minutes to make, and triple the dirty dishes. He had done this hundreds of times before, so why had it only dawned on him now? It just felt right, that's what he kept telling himself; it added a certain 'warmth' to the process.

Steam rose, alerting him to add the flavour packet, watching as the noodles soaked the flavour. Will raised the spoon, taking a small sip, somehow the flavour was richer, and the noodles were softer. He tried to remember the first time he'd done it like this but drew a blank; vividly, he remembered someone showing him this method once, and it left an impression on him.

Setting the table, he sat down with his bowl of noodles, ready to take a bite, twirling the fork around...

"You need the extra food after everything that happened today."

He looked up, seeing the empty space opposite; no one besides he and Chester had been in this house recently, but for some reason, the seat before him felt cold, like someone was missing.

"Just eat, okay? You've got to get your strength back."

The voice continued... Will paid no mind, whatever this weird feeling was, he was sure it would pass in a few days.

This was getting strange...

---- Two Weeks Later; Friday 9:32 AM ----

WOOF - WOOF

Will covered his ears, pushing his way through the dirt, stifling a yawn as he walked through the dog park with Troy by his side. It was early, far earlier than he would have chosen...

And Troy's dog wouldn't shut up!

The summer morning hit his face with a slight punch, heat rising in places it shouldn't; who does this for fun? Will looked at the dogs - Chester trotted ahead, sniffing every tree, while Twinkie yipped at nothing in particular, filling the air with his barking,

"Can't believe you got me out this early?" Will muttered pulling the drawstrings of his hood even tighter over his head, "I know I suggested this, but I thought we'd go midday!"

Troy have him a sideways grin, stretching his arms wide as if taking in the whole world with one motion, "Nah dude! The morning air is where it's at!" making a sweeping motion with his arms, almost hitting a very confused jogger.

Blinking, Will passed a side-eye, "I'm gonna show you were my fist goes if you wake me up this early," slightly irritable this early in the morning; with no sense of time preservation, he needed to wake up at Six-AM to ensure he wasn't late.

"Yeesh!" the ex-bully teased, "Not a morning person, huh?"

"You think?" He replied sarcastic, he knew he should be nicer to his friend, but he was not feeling well.

Unease had been growing recently, feeling as if there was something he'd forgotten but couldn't itch. Every time he looked at his fractured wrist in its cast, it gnawed at him again, howling mad and wild.

Even with his holidays, everything felt like a burden, too troublesome and tiring; paintings felt lifeless once more – he figured he was in a slump, suffering from severe artist's block, the same he had when his brother and mother were forced to leave... but this time, what was he missing?

As the wandered further, following the dogs who had taken the lead, Troy eyed the brunette's wrist, which was still held in its brace, "How's your hand doing?"

Will shrugged, "It's fine, the doctor said it should be healed before graduation, it only hurts if I try anything crazy,"

"That's good," Troy said, nodding, and then after a pause added with a grin, "You can jerk off properly once its off then,"

Will blinked, pausing, taking the hood off his head, looking at him with the second side-eye of the day. But honestly not even surprised – this was Troy after all, "I don't even know why we became friends-" the brunette mumbled sarcastic,

However, instead of continuing the joke or doubling down, Troy seemed more puzzled and unsure – there was some truth to the words as he shook his head, not thinking much about it, "Well... it just happened," replying simple,

When had they started talking? Why? When had Troy turned from foe to friend? They had no reason to be friends after everything that happened between them; was it because of Max? Lucas? Dustin? Or perhaps it was Troy's little sister? Well, whatever the reason was, it wasn't important.

There was an odd emptiness that continued creeping on him these past few weeks, like something important forgotten in time and space. It lingered in the edge of his thoughts, most of the time barely noticeable, but in the quiet, downtime, it settled in, nagging at him.

"You good?" Troy asked, noticing the brunette's distracted expression,

Will shook out his thoughts, nodding with a little smile – why was he so distracted these days? Falling into an uncomfortable silence.

To break the silence, Troy chuckled, changing the subject, "I think my dog's gay," Pointing at his dog yipping away, sliding toward a sleek greyhound almost five times his size –

"Okay..." Will looked both ways, furrowing his brows. He watched the finger, following the line of sight landing on Twinkie running around the taller dog trying to get his attention,

Lost in thought, the ex-bully shrugged, "How does he have better game than me?"

Not knowing which way this conversation may go, Will tread lightly; wasn't Troy homophobic? He hadn't ever said anything homophobic to him even when he was bullying him, but perhaps there was still a chance considering what his ex-friends were like, "...You have trouble dating?" he tried to steer the conversation away from the gay.

"No... I mean, recently it just feels like I have a crush on someone and it won't go away... but there's no person holding that affection,"

"Like they're not reciprocating your feelings?"

"Kinda... but it's more like as if that person... doesn't exist," Troy admitted, trailing off, feeling stupid for even bring it up, "I don't know how to explain it,"

"No, carry on..." Will urged, "I get what you mean-"

"It's like... I've had loads of girlfriends before, and been on many dates... but the idea now just doesn't do it for me," Troy grasped at straws, not entirely sure if he made sense, "Until recently, I felt like there was someone I really liked, but I can't even remember their name - all I know that it was a boy,"

"What?!" Will seemed shocked by the revelation, eyes bulging out his sockets, "You like... I never knew," whispering the last part.

"You didn't know?"

"I mean... I guess I never really thought about who you liked," he mumbled in response

"Well, I like both... so double the fun, I guess?" Troy shrugged, continuing their commute through the park, a stray leaf falling in his path, shifting upon remembering Will saying he felt similar to him, in what way? He spoke, "So what did you mean when you said you had that same feeling?"

Itching deep into his mind, Will felt a strange kinship emerging, thoughts bubbling to the surface, words filtering out the tips of his teeth, "I mean, I've never been with anyone before, but sometimes..." he trailed off, kicking a pebble into the grass at the deep memories lost in his cranium, "Sometimes, it feels like I have. Like I remember being kissed, hugged... and stuff like but – I've never. It's weird—I can't picture their face or anything."

Before the conversation could drag on, Twinkie took off, his little legs pumping furiously as he chased forward, aggressively yapping as though proclaiming a duel; where was he going?

"Not again! Twinkie, you're gonna get hurt!" Troy groaned, immediately running after him, not caring about other people or pets he pushed on his way – barely registering the Corgi he almost stepped on.

Will rolled his eyes, "Come on boy," he pulled Chester's leash, leading him to catch up with the rogue chihuahua at a slightly slower pace, yet still with determined strides. He apologised to the people he walked past, asking forgiveness for Troy's careless rampage – hiding his head in shame until approaching.

When they reached, Troy was out of breath and Twinkie danced happily around someone's legs, squeaking in excitement. Will looked up at the face of the figure, brows furrowing in a pleasant surprise,

"Dustin?" The brunette blurted,

"What are you doing here?" Troy added,

"Taking my pet on a walk, obviously," Dustin said sarcastic as though it was the simplest deduction in the world – yet the mischievous glint in his eyes said there was more to this whole situation, something he wasn't telling them,

"You have a dog?" Troy asked, looking around for any signs of life, pondering what type of dog Dustin might have: a Poodle? A Pomeranian? A Great Dane? The possibilities were endless, and Will would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit interested too.

"Well..." the curly haired boy stretched his words, picking up a small animal lost in the tall grass – an orange tabby... a cat.

Dumbfounded-ness struck the two boys as they exchanged a glance, neither wanting to say the obvious, but it was very clear – why was Dustin here with his cat?

Making the cat wave its paw, the curly haired boy explained, "This here is Mews, and he appreciates the outdoors," exaggeratedly wiggling the cat, "And don't worry, I brought a leash just so no one thinks he's a stray,"

Troy slowly turned his head, scrunching his brows – saying what needed to be said, "Boy this is a dog park,"

---- Next Week; Thursday 12:41 PM ----

"Aww honey, I'm so proud of you!"

The familiar voice softened Will's unease as he sat on the cool metal stool, mustering a smile for his mother who sat on the other side of the thick glass – so close, yet so far at the same time.

He held up his exam results up to the window, showing her clearly, allowing her to read the grades he achieved – he did better than he expected... a lot better. Last year, he didn't care about his grades, failing them all because he didn't even care about anything.

He didn't think he'd still be alive.

But now... here he was, a year longer than he thought he'd last for, opening his results with his mother – she may be in prison, but she was here in front of him.

Visiting hours were always heavy, pressing down a weight on his chest, and that was not even taking in account of the gaping hole in Will's heart-

"How did you get an 'A++' in English? Did you have a tutor?" she grinned,

Will couldn't believe it himself – how was his grade that high? He thought it must have been some sort of luck; turning the paper to himself, he placed it down on the table. He remembered someone teaching him, holding his hand and powering him through... but couldn't place the face, "Yeah... I guess,"

His mother shifted the conversation, having only little time until the hour was over, "Your wrist is looking a lot better,"

But shaking out his thoughts not giving into despair, Will lifted his arm slightly with a shrug, "Yeah, splint comes off tomorrow," he paused, wiggling his fingers with a little grin, "I'm lucky, first they said it wouldn't come off till after graduation,"

Joyce's smile faded, her gaze distant from the words, "I wish I could be there, Will," eyes soft, holding back unravelled tears,

Always Will blamed himself for all this. The reality that she wouldn't even be here, in his position, if it weren't for him – it gnawed at him, "I know Mom..." he whispered, his lip quivering as he pressed his hand against the glance, providing the only comfort he could, "It's okay,"

But it wasn't okay, not really.

He wanted to let it go but couldn't remove that throbbing ache. It wasn't like Jonathan would be there either; he was going through his own rough patch, trying to get back on track in rehab.

And then there was his dad. His father was a lost cause, not hearing a word from him in months, not since the last time he appeared in early November, breaking his piggybank and stealing his trophies before leaving... how did he get those trophies back anyway?

Graduation was supposed to be a big moment for him, a celebration of all the years of effort he pushed himself through, and yet... no one from his family would be there...

Joyce's eyes flickered with concern upon seeing the sorrows plastered on his face, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. She reached forward, as if her hand could pass through the glass separating them,

"Will," she began softly, "None of this... what's happened with your dad, Jonathan and me... none of it is your fault," shaking her head, tears brimming the edges of her eyelashes, "Me attacking your dad and Jonathan going to rehab... it's not your fault,"

But it was his fault, if he wasn't born, then his mom never would have shot that gun at his dad – she only shot his leg but was still arrested for it. She was just trying to protect her son from a horrible man, but she had to pay the price.

Likewise with Jonathan, Joyce going to prison spiralled him into drugs and alcohol, casting him deeper into a pit where he couldn't get out of – only taking rehab as it was court-ordered after a heavy weed-binge, deciding to be better soley for Will's sake.

"Seriously, it's not your fault," she repeated, "Me and your brother would do everything again thousands of times, because we know we made the right choice... one day, we are going to come back and make you proud,"

Looking down at his hands, voice cracking, "You don't... need to make me proud mom,"

"Baby look at me," she smiled bittersweet, knowing his deepest thoughts, "You don't need to make peace with something you never caused,"

Finally, after what felt like hours of his own sorrows, he met her eyes, "I know, Mom. I really do. But you and Jonathan... you both did what you did for me. That means more than you know." He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood, but it sounded hollow. "I love you, Mom. I really do."

Joyce's lips curved into a soft smile, the kind she saved just for her sons, "I love you too baby – I wish I could be at your graduation; I really do..."

"It's okay, one of my friend says he'll record it... I'll show you afterwards," the brunette answered softly, remembering how Lucas had made it a clear point that he would live-stream the whole event so Max wouldn't have to worry,

"Oh! Is he that friend of yours," she emphasized, wiggling her brows,

"What?" he tilted his head,

"Your boyfriend!" she leaned close, whispering,

"What? No! I don't have a-" Will jumped back in his seat; what was she thinking saying something like that at a place like this? "Lucas is dating Max, mom,"

"Not Lucas," she shook her head, "That other boy... the one you used to talk about all the time... you said he was your first friend – ugh, I'm so bad with names recently," Joyce chuckled, genuinely having trouble, almost as if it had slipped every crevice of his mind, "Remember, you said you went to that theme-park and um... wasn't he like part of a gang or something?" clicking her fingers to try remember, "Isn't that strange? I swear I just had it in my mind,"

Shivers danced up his spine. Will couldn't think of anyone who fit that description – he went alone to that theme park... he went on some rides and then rode the carousel because of his motion sickness... why did he go on those big rides anyways? He hated big rides.

Was someone with him?

"A gang member? Where would I find a gang member," Will joked,

"Not a gang member, but he had a gang-leader vibe," She corrected, "I remember I told you off about it and then you told me how much he was helping you – ugh why can't I remember his name?!"

Who could she be talking about? His list of friends could be counted on one hand, and none of them could be classified under such; Dustin was too cheerful, Lucas was too caring and Troy was too nosey to be part of a gang....

Maybe this person wasn't part of a gang but just looked the rebellious type, perhaps he had piercings or tattoos, or a general demeanour making him appear tough. Will couldn't see himself being friends with a gang member, not after the horror stories he had heard from his half-drunk father.

Was he missing someone? A special fourth male friend? One closer than the others combined.

His friends had been there for him, sure, but there was something unsettling in the way his mother described this friend, as if they were a vital part of his life and he'd simply been... misplaced.

"Well, I guess it doesn't matter-" His mother continued to steer the conversation, not a fan of awkward silences, "The fact is; you have friends and that's what matters. You're so well Will... better than I could've ever imagined,"

RINGGG

As if on cue, the sound of the alarm echoed the halls, alerting the inmates to return to their places- Visiting time was over.

Will frowned soft, not wanting her to leave – but tried to keep his expression as neutral as possible for her sake, letting her words soothe him as best they could as he saw her stepping away, waving before she was out of sight.

Though he couldn't help but shake this gnawing feeling that someone was missing...

Something was wrong.

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4044 Words

This was a beefy chapter

Stay Safe <3