"Hot.. it's hot.." Will whined. He was thrashing again, blankets tangled around his legs in a vice. Ever since the Mindflayer had been defeated, Will had never been the same. Any form of heat seemed to send him into a spiral.

You woke up to his foot landing in your back. A quiet grunt escaped as you realized half the pillows and covers were now on the floor. Will's freckled skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and his face was screwed up in pain. Soft whimpers filled the stillness of the bedroom, interrupting the tranquility of the night.

It likes the cold.

Even after death, the Mindflayer still hurt Will daily. Some days were spent in silence because he couldn't bring himself to talk. A drawer in the living room was filled with Will's vent paintings. Dark colors and scratchy, scary monsters filling every page. The reality might be over, but the subconscious nightmare never ends.

Will shot up before you could try shaking him. His chest heaved and tears mixed with his sweat. He looked around with wild eyes, not fully present. "It's too hot. Turn it down, turn it down please."