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

~ 17 ~

There's a beat where the storm presses on us like a lid. I can feel my powers flare — not a blaze, just a bright tick under the skin.

For the briefest instant my vision shivers, and I know my eyes have flashed red; I know it because I feel the aftershock like a pebble in my skull. I breathe slow, force the warmth down into a steady glow.

"I'm not bailing," I say again, quieter. "I'm just— scared. Okay? And I need to go and check. For me."

Max's jaw works. I hate how much she's right to be annoyed — but she doesn't have the thrum inside her like I do.

She doesn't carry the memory of being taken, or of Will's quiet scared voice in the dark. She doesn't understand the tiny flicker that says, if you don't go now, you might never get another chance.

El's hand lands on Max's shoulder, small and calm. She meets my eyes and there's no judgment there, just a soft, steady permission. "Go," she says.

That single word unknots me. I almost cry from relief. She doesn't ask me to explain or to produce proof. She just trusts what I am — and that means the world right now.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Max grumbles but doesn't block me. "Fine. But if something happens to us. I'm blaming you."

"Fair," I say, offering a brittle smile that feels like glass.

They turn their bikes toward Heather's house. I spin mine the other way, legs pumping hard, rain slicing across my face.

Cold stings, but my chest is steady with my private heat. Every push of the pedal brings me closer to Will and farther from whatever El saw. Each drop of water is a small drumbeat: please be okay, Will. Please.

*****

By the time I reached Will's house, night had swallowed Hawkins whole. The sky was a flat, hungry black, the storm still lashing down like it wanted to wash the town clean. 

Rain thudded on my hoodie so hard it felt like small, cold blows against my shoulders. My legs burned from peddling like a madwoman, lungs burning, but none of that mattered. Nothing did except finding him.

As I eased up the driveway, two silhouettes were right at his door—Mike and Lucas, soaked through, frantic, battering on wood like they could bash whatever was wrong loose.

"Will!" Mike's voice cracked and cut through the rain. He was pounding the door with an urgency that made bile rise in my throat. "Will, I'm sorry, man! Alright?"

My bike clattered into the gravel and hit the ground. I didn't even notice the sound.

I splashed through a puddle and walked toward them, rain stinging my cheeks, heart hammering so hard it felt like it might burst my ribs.

Mike and Lucas turned as I skidded up. For a second they just stared—maybe expecting a lecture, maybe not expecting me here at all.

I must have looked like a wreck: hoodie shredded by the downpour, hair plastered to my face, eyes wide and raw.

"Where is Will?" I asked, and there was no patience left in the words—only a tight, raw panic.

Mike's jaw worked. "We—we don't know. He left this morning."

My stomach just... folded. The world narrowed. 

"What do you mean you don't know?" My voice was too loud, sharp with something that tasted like fear and a little bit of fury. "What the fuck happened?"

Lucas shuffled his feet. "It's a long story."

Mike ran his hands through his hair, rain dripping off his coat. "We had a fight this morning. It was bad. I said... stuff— I've been trying to make it right all day, but he's not answering."