The Byers house was alive with the low hum of a lazy afternoon.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching dust motes in the air. In the living room, Mike and Eleven sat cross-legged on the rug near the coffee table, heads bent close together over one of Mike’s old comic books, laughing softly at something on the page. Their voices were a gentle murmur—comfortable, wrapped up in their own little world.

Will stood by the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed loosely over his chest. He looked a little lost in thought, staring down at the floor like he was trying not to notice the date on the calendar. His birthday. The first one since everything had started to feel… almost normal again. No monsters, no gates, no Vecna. Just a quiet day that somehow still felt heavier than it should.

He hadn’t said anything about it. He never really did. But you noticed the way his shoulders were a little hunched, the way he kept glancing toward the window like he was waiting for something that might not come.

You stepped into the room, hands tucked casually behind your back to hide the small wrapped gift you’d brought.

“Hey,” you said, keeping your voice light and easy. “What’s up?”

Will’s head lifted at the sound of your voice. His hazel eyes met yours, and for a second they widened—just a fraction—before he gave you that small, shy smile that always made your chest feel warm.

“Hey,” he echoed softly, pushing off the doorway and straightening up a little.

“Not much. Just… hanging out.” He glanced over at Mike and Eleven for a moment, then back to you.

“They’re in their own bubble today.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, the way he did when he felt a little awkward or unsure, but his gaze stayed on you—curious, hopeful, like he was glad you were here even if he didn’t quite know why you’d come over.