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

~ 28 ~

We sat in a loose, broken circle on the supermarket floor. Eleven was in the middle, cross-legged near the open refrigerators. Her bad leg stretched out in front of her, still wrapped, faint spots of blood blooming through the fresh gauze. 

The hum of the fridges filled the silence, cold air drifting out in waves and crawling across the tiles. It smelled like dust, metal, and something faintly sweet — old fruit maybe, or syrup from broken jars.

Someone had tied an old American flag bandana around her eyes. It looked ridiculous and perfect all at once. She sat very still, her hands limp over her knees, her breathing slow and steady.

Max and Lucas stood close on one side, watching. Nancy and Jonathan were opposite, near the dark end of the aisle. 

The rest of us — me, Mike, and Will — were sitting on one of the low fruit fridge cases, the metal cool beneath us.

I leaned gently against Will's shoulder. My head still ached — a slow, deep pulse that never really stopped — but the world wasn't spinning as much anymore. 

I could see clearer, though the edges still shimmered when I blinked too fast. The bleeding had mostly stopped; the makeshift bandage was tight, the dull throb beneath it a reminder to stay still.

Will shifted slightly, careful not to bump me. "You okay?" he whispered.

"Yeah," I said, though my voice came out softer than I meant. "Just... feels like my brain's still rebooting."

He smiled faintly, but his hand hovered like he was ready to catch me if I tilted again.

Across the room, Lucas popped open a Coke. The sharp click of the tab made everyone flinch.

"Quiet," Max hissed, low but fierce.

"Oh—sorry," Lucas whispered back.

A second later came the fizzing sound, followed by the obnoxiously loud slurp of him drinking it.

I sighed, resting my head back on Will's shoulder. My eyelids felt heavy, my skull warm under the bandage. The cool air spilling from the fridges was almost soothing — like standing in front of an open freezer on a summer day.

"How do you even drink that?" Mike whispered, clearly irritated.

Lucas looked deeply offended. "Because it's delicious," he whispered back.

"What?!" Mike and Max hissed at the same time.

I blinked tiredly toward them. Nancy and Jonathan hadn't even looked up; their expressions said it all — that familiar, exhausted disbelief that this was the group we were trusting with the end of the world.

Lucas leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice like he was narrating a commercial. "It's like Carpenter's The Thing. The original's a classic — no question. But the remake—"

He took a deliberately long, loud slurp. Then another. Then sighed with fake satisfaction, smacking his lips obnoxiously. "Sweeter. Bolder. Better."

Mike looked like he might explode. "You're insane."

"So, what, you prefer the original Thing?" Lucas shot back.

"What? No, I'm not talking about The Thing, I'm talking about New Coke," Mike whispered harshly.

"It's the same concept, dude."

"It's not the same concept."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's—"