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

~ 12 ~

The credits rolled, light bleeding back into the theatre. People stretched, yawned, collected their stuff. Max tugged Lucas up the aisle, Mike followed with Skittles. Their voices blended into the crowd like this was any other summer night.

But Will and I didn't move.

Our hands stayed tangled. Normally we'd be whisper-joking about Lucas's screams, bumping shoulders until one of us cracked. Instead we sat there breathing too evenly, not saying what we both felt in the dark.

I couldn't shake it—the ringing, the cold, the way my body braced like it knew something first.

By the time we followed the others out, my skin still felt clammy under the mall's warm neon. Later, pushing our bikes into the night, the heaviness clung like a shadow.

The air was thick—crickets, leftover heat radiating off the pavement. But under my skin it was cold. Wrong.

We rode in silence, tires humming, streetlights dragging our shadows long. Not awkward—heavy, like we were carrying the same thing and didn't know how to set it down.

Five minutes in, it burst out of me. "You felt it too," I said, barely above the wheels on asphalt.

He sighed, like he'd been waiting. "Yeah."

My grip tightened. "It's not— it's not possible, right?" I couldn't say it. Mind Flayer.

He finally glanced over, profile gold in the streetlight. Not calm, not terrified—distant. "I'd like to think that," he said.

The way he said it twisted my stomach.

We didn't talk again until we turned onto my street. Steve's porch light flickered, buzzing like it could die any second.

We slowed. Gravel crunched. I set my bike by the curb; Will parked his beside mine. I crossed my arms tight, trying to cage the unease. I didn't want to go in. Not yet.

Will stepped closer, reading me like always. The porch creaked. Crickets sang. Between us—quiet. Worry softened his mouth.

"I don't want to feel this way," I admitted. "Like it's still there. Waiting. Like any second it'll start all over again."

"I know."

"It was the ringing. The headache. The—shivers. Like my body remembered it before I did."

"The goosebumps," he said, finishing the thought. My head snapped up. His look told me everything — he'd felt it too.

"I don't want to scare anyone," I whispered.

"You haven't." He took my hands, warm and steady. "Maybe it's just... leftovers. Static. Aftershocks. You've carried this longer than anyone. Of course your body remembers."

I studied him in the weak light—curls damp, expression steady in a way I couldn't reach. He always made me feel less like I was drowning.

"You really think it's nothing?" I asked.

"I think we're okay," he said simply, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "And tomorrow we're pranking Dustin. We've been planning it forever. Don't let a weird headache ruin that."

A weak laugh escaped. "God, I almost forgot."

We were quiet. Then he kissed me—gentle and grounding. His forehead rested on mine. "I love you."

"I love you more," I whispered.

He squeezed my hands, stepped back. "Get some sleep, okay? I'm sure it was nothing."

I nodded quickly, though my brain still buzzed. My arms wrapped tight around myself again.

He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. "You still look... stressed."