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

~ 41 ~

~ 5 days later ~

The morning light comes early, pouring through the curtains in thin gold stripes that crawl across the bed. The fan hums lazily, pushing warm air instead of cool. Somewhere outside, cicadas buzz like static under the sound of Will breathing behind me. His arm lies heavy around my waist, our legs a tangle under the sheet.

For a second I stay still, matching his breaths—long, steady, slower than mine. It's the same rhythm I fall asleep to every night. Five days since Joyce called him home. Five days since he came back quieter.

He stirs when I move. "Hey," he murmurs, voice cracked with sleep.

"Morning," I whisper, turning toward him. His curls are flattened on one side, his eyes half-closed. I kiss the corner of his mouth and feel him smile against me.

"Mmm. Morning," he repeats, softer. He presses another kiss to my jaw, then to my collarbone like it's habit. "Coffee?"

"You read my mind."

"Always," he says, lazy grin spreading before he flops back, one arm covering his face. "You make it better than me."

"That's because I have patience."

"Lies," he mumbles, already drifting again.

I slip out of bed, the floorboards warm under my feet. The curtains breathe with the summer air. In the kitchen the light hits the counter just right—everything glowing, even the dust. I measure the grounds, boil the water, listen to the kettle build its tiny storm. It's strange how much peace fits into those sounds now.

Will comes in, still rumpled, wearing one of his old T-shirts. He moves behind me, arms circling my waist, chin on my shoulder. His skin smells like sleep and something sweet—maybe the brownies Dustin left a couple days ago.

"Morning looks good on you," he murmurs.

"You say that every morning."

He kisses my cheek. "Every morning it's true."

I lean back into him for a moment, breathing him in, then pour the coffee and hand him a mug. He holds it in both hands, watching the steam like it's telling his fortune. There's a line between his eyebrows again. It's been there for days.

"Steve's already gone?" he asks.

"Yeah. Family Video. He said he might close late tonight." I take a sip and glance at him. "He's been weird lately. You notice?"

He nods slowly. "Yeah. Guess he's tired."

Maybe. Or maybe he's waiting—like he knows something's about to break.

We drink in silence for a bit. The clock ticks, the fan hums, the world holds still enough to pretend. Then Will says, almost too casually, "We could invite everyone over today. If you want."

I dry my hands on the towel and study his face. He makes it sound offhand, but there's hope tucked inside it, and fear. The past week he's been asking every morning in new words. He wants people here. He wants proof that I can be okay without him.

I blink. "Everyone?"

"Yeah. Lucas, Dustin, Max... Mike," he says the last name carefully. "We could do cards, or a movie."

He's testing the water. I take a breath. "Yeah. Why not?"

His face brightens—real, surprised joy. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," I repeat. "I think I'm ready for noise again."

He sets his mug down and kisses me quick, like thanks. "I'll call."