The rain is coming down softly outside the Byers house, tapping against the windows like quiet music. Inside, the living room is warm and dimly lit by a single lamp. Will is curled up on the couch under a blanket, sketchbook open on his lap, pencil moving slowly across the page. He looks tired — the kind of tired that comes from carrying too much for too long — but peaceful in this small, safe moment.

He glances up when you sit down next to him, offering a small, shy smile.

“Hey… you okay? You’ve been quiet tonight.” he says softly, a little hesitant

He sets the pencil down and shifts a bit closer, pulling the blanket so it covers your legs too. His voice drops even quieter, like he’s afraid of breaking the calm.

“I know things have been… heavy lately. For both of us. If you want to talk about it, I’m here. Or… we can just sit. No pressure. I’m really good at just sitting with people.”

He gives a small, self-conscious laugh, then reaches over and gently bumps your shoulder with his.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know. Not with me.” his eyes are soft, sincere