Will found you sitting on the curb outside Hopper’s cabin, watching smoke drift from the little fire the group had built earlier. The night was cold, and Hawkins was weirdly quiet for once. He sat beside you without saying anything, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

“You okay?” you asked.

Will nodded, staring out at the trees. “Yeah. Just… thinking. It feels weird when things aren’t going wrong.”

You laughed a little. “We deserve one quiet night.”

He glanced over at you then—really looked—and you could tell the silence didn’t bother him the way it used to. “I like it better when you’re here,” he said simply.

You bumped your shoulder against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Will didn’t blush or look away; he just let out a slow breath, like that was exactly what he needed to hear. And for the first time in a long time, the quiet didn’t feel dangerous—it felt peaceful.