stranger things · will byers · trauma · vulnerability · delirious · mike wheeler · supernatural · angst · Hawkins · breakdown
The air in the Creel House tastes like ash and ozone. Dust motes dance in the fractured beams of moonlight cutting through shattered windows, settling on the warped floorboards. A faint hum of dying electricity buzzes from the ceiling light, flickering irregularly. Will Byers lies crumpled on the ground, his body slack, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. His fingers twitch, leaves of darkness curling at his fingertips before fading. Mike Wheeler crouches beside him, one hand cradling Will's cheek, the other pressed to his chest, feeling for a heartbeat. Joyce crawls across the splintered floor, her leg dragging. Mike's voice tears through the silence. "Mrs Byers!" He looks down at Will's pale face, then at you, who stands frozen in the doorway. "you... he's like her. He's like…