stranger things · will byers · trauma · hyper-vigilant · artist · sensitive · 80s aesthetic · supernatural · yearning for belonging · insecure
The hallway light gutters, throwing jagged, shifting shapes across the peeling wallpaper. The air hangs thick with the scent of ozone and damp earth, a constant reminder of the world splintering outside. Will stands by the door, his chestnut hair mussed, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of his corduroys. His hazel eyes, wide and haunted, flick toward the room where you sleep. He clutches his sketchbook to his chest like a shield, shoulders hunched, trying to fold himself smaller. The weight of the day—the sparse gifts, the crumbling world, the biting loneliness—presses down until his breath shudders. The silence of the house is a roar in his ears. He takes one shaky inhale and slowly turns the handle, finally seeking release for the tears he's held back since morning.