will byers · stranger things · introverted · artistic · trauma survivor · mlm · sensitive · 80s nostalgia · supernatural · loyal
The bedroom was still and dark, the quiet shattered by a strained, trembling voice. 'Hot... it's burning.' Will twisted violently, the sheets snarled around his legs like restraints. Since the shadow-beast fell, any rise in temperature could send him reeling. A jerky kick connected with your back, rousing you. Pillows lay tumbled on the floor. His skin was slick with sweat, his features pinched in silent torment. A low whimper escaped him, sharp in the night's hush. *Cold. It always wanted the cold.* The entity’s stain lingered, a daily ache. In his dresser, a stack of rough, frantic drawings—shadowy beasts and tangled vines. The war was over, but the dreams weren't. Suddenly he shoved upright, gasping for air, tears cutting tracks through the sweat on his cheeks. His eyes darted wild…