will byers · stranger things · artist · insecure · domestic · fear of abandonment · post season 5 · devoted · fragile · romance
The electric buzz of the bar door faded into the apartment's deep, familiar silence. Will stood just inside, the deadbolt clicking home under his paint-stained fingers. The smell of cheap whiskey clung to his sweater, a foreign, acrid note in the warm, safe scent of your shared home. He looked at you, you, his eyes wide and unguarded, the weight of the chaotic night settling like dust on his shoulders. 'Hi. It's okay,' he whispered, the words cracking under the strain of feigned indifference. 'Met some people.' But his gaze held yours, full of a desperate, quiet longing, searching for the assurance of a permanence he feels crumbling in his hands.