Bound By Shadows 3 | Will Byers x Reader (Fem)

~ 11 ~

~ One day before Dustin gets home ~

It was just after 6:40 p.m., the golden light outside slipping into a dark, indigo sky. 

My room was a disaster zone — clothes flung across the bed, half a sleeve still trapped in the dresser drawer, and socks that didn't match. I'd only realised they were different colours after I pulled them on.

"Whatever," I muttered, tugging them off and throwing them at the wall, where they slid down like defeated flags.

Lucas had radioed through the Supercoms about ten minutes ago. "Y/N, we're watching Day of the Dead at 7:30. Don't be late."

Mike, apparently, was coming too — even after spending the whole day glued to El. Lucas must've guilt-tripped him hard.

I brushed my fingers through my hair, leaning into the mirror. Not bad. Plain black singlet, denim shorts, and my beat-up sneakers that had somehow survived monsters, labs, and the Upside Down. 

My mascara wand hovered, and for half a second I caught it again — that faint shimmer in my reflection. Just the smallest flick of red in my eyes. My powers buzzed beneath my skin constantly now, like a low hum in my bones. Quiet. Calm. For once.

Then—

Ding-dong.

I froze.

That wasn't Lucas. He would've pounded the door like he was being chased. Mike? No — he never showed up solo. Max? She'd break in and yell something snarky. I glanced at the clock. 6:51.

A smile tugged at my lips. I already knew.

Before my feet even hit the floor, I reached for that thread inside me — the little tug that always pulled me forward. The air shimmered around me, and with a soft crack I zipped across the house.

I landed at the front door, knees dipping, breath hitching from the drain. Short hops didn't wreck me, but doing them too quick always left a pulse in my chest like I'd sprinted. I leaned against the wall for half a second, then grabbed the knob.

When I swung the door open, Will was standing there. One hand mid-knock, lips parted like he'd been about to speak.

And then he smiled. "Hi."

God, that smile. His hair was still damp, curling slightly like he'd showered in a rush. He wore a blue-and-white shirt, and a backpack slung over one shoulder — probably stuffed with his idea of 'movie night essentials.'

"Hey, you," I said softly.

His gaze flicked to my eyes, still faintly glowing, and then back to my stance. "Teleported?" he asked, tilting his head the way only he could — curious but gentle, not prying.

I leaned against the frame, grinning. "What can I say? I have very good instincts when it comes to you."

He stepped closer, eyes sweeping over me like he could see every detail I was trying to downplay — the red tint still fading, the slight sway in my stance, the way I pulled in a deeper breath than I needed.

"You okay?" His voice was low, careful. His hand was already reaching before I answered.

I let him take mine. His fingers threaded through, warm and grounding.

"I'm good," I said honestly. "Just jumped too fast. But worth it."

That look crossed his face again — the one that always wrecked me. Soft. Knowing. Like he saw the worst of me, and somehow it didn't scare him off.

He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine. At first, just a whisper. Then a little deeper, like he couldn't help it. My free hand found his shoulder, clinging as warmth flared through my chest.