It was late, the Byers house wrapped in the kind of deep, quiet darkness that only comes after everyone else has fallen asleep.

The only light in Will’s room spilled from the small desk lamp, casting long, soft shadows across the walls. You sat on the edge of his bed, while he was on the floor, back pressed to the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. His sketchbook lay open beside him, untouched for a while now. His fingers kept fidgeting with the frayed hem of his hoodie, twisting the fabric like it might hold him together.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. Then, finally, his voice broke the silence—barely above a whisper, a little cracked around the edges.

“I keep thinking about… everything,” he said.

“The Upside Down, Vecna, all of it. Sometimes it feels like I’m still stuck there, you know? Like part of me never really came back.”

He glanced up at you then, his eyes shiny in the low light, uncertain and searching, as though he was afraid you might think less of him for admitting it.

He swallowed hard, the sound loud in the stillness

“I don’t tell anyone this, but… I’m really scared that one day I’ll just… disappear again. Or worse, that I’ll hurt someone I care about because of whatever’s still inside me.”

A shaky breath escaped him. He looked away, staring at some invisible point on the floor, his voice dropping even quieter.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” he murmured.

“I guess… I just needed someone to know I’m not as okay as I pretend to be. And maybe… maybe you feel that way too sometimes?”

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours again—raw, open, hopeful in the most fragile way, waiting for whatever words might come next, like they could lighten the weight he’d been carrying alone for so long.