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

~ 38 ~

When I open my eyes, the light looks different.
It's soft — real — morning light. The kind that moves, that feels alive. For a second, I don't believe it's morning at all. I've gotten so used to waking in the dark, to that red, endless haze pressing behind my eyelids, that sunlight feels like something foreign.

The air smells faintly of toast from downstairs, of detergent and Will's shampoo. His warmth is the first thing I really notice — the weight of his arm around me, the steady rhythm of his breathing against my back. I blink, disoriented, then realize he's still holding my hand. Our fingers are locked, loosely but certain, like neither of us let go through the night.

He's half-slumped against the headboard, his hair a mess, his shirt wrinkled. One knee is bent awkwardly under the blanket. He looks completely wrecked and impossibly peaceful at the same time. There's a faint smudge of exhaustion under his eyes, and I know instantly why.

He didn't sleep much.

He was up every time I jolted awake — when the shaking hit, when I couldn't breathe, when the sweat made my shirt cling to my skin like fire. He held me through all of it, whispering things I don't remember clearly but must have believed, because... I actually slept.

A full night.
No void. No fire. No screams. Just quiet.

I lie there for a moment, listening to his heartbeat and the faint sounds of the house — the creak of a pipe, the hum of the fridge, a bird outside the window. Everything sounds too normal, too safe. I didn't realize how much I missed safe.

When I shift slightly, his arm tightens instinctively around me. His breath stirs my hair.

"Hey," he murmurs, voice rough with sleep. "You okay?"

"Yeah," I whisper. "Just—awake."

His eyes open a little, blinking through the haze of sleep until he registers me actually looking at him. The relief that crosses his face almost breaks me.

"You scared me," he says softly, half smiling. "You were shaking so bad last night. I thought I was gonna have to pour water on you or something."

A small laugh slips out of me — weak but real. "You'd never dare."

He grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You're right. You'd set me on fire in your sleep."

I elbow him gently. "Probably."

For a few seconds, we just lie there — his hand tracing lazy circles against my arm, my fingers still tangled in his. The silence feels easy, earned. Then, quietly, I say, "You stayed."

"Told you I would," he murmurs.

"You didn't have to."

"I did, actually."

He says it so simply that it hits deeper than anything else could.

The door creaks softly. Steve's voice filters through, cautious like he's afraid to wake me.
"She's still out?"

Will lifts his head. "She was," he whispers. Then he turns slightly, noticing my eyes open. "Guess not anymore."

Steve stops in the doorway, frozen. For a long second, he just stares. Relief floods his face like something physical — his shoulders drop, his breath catching.

"You slept," he says finally, and his voice cracks on the word. "You actually slept."

I nod, sitting up a little. "Yeah."

He huffs out a small laugh — disbelieving, shaky, but full of something like hope. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that."

His eyes shift briefly to Will, and there's something unspoken in that glance — gratitude, relief — but he doesn't say it out loud. He just nods once, slow. "Owens and the team are coming by soon. Just for checks. Nothin' intense."