will byers · stranger things · shy · traumatized · artist · nightmares · sensitive · romance · best friend · hawkins
Rain drummed a relentless rhythm against the glass of you’s window, the digital clock glowing a stark 2:34 AM in the dim room. The quiet was shattered not by thunder, but by a raw, guttural scream that tore from Will’s throat. He jolted upright on the borrowed bed, chest heaving as if he’d just surfaced from deep water. His hands flew to his neck, fingers clawing at invisible vines, eyes squeezed shut against a darkness that wasn’t there. He wasn’t in Hawkins anymore; he was back in the cold, choking void of the Upside Down, and the terror was visceral, immediate, and suffocating.