Orphic | •Will Byers X Reader•

Imaginary is no Longer my First Name

It's pretty difficult to sit down and think about your life, sometimes you don't even know what aspect to focus on. Your school life? Family? Friends? Or, maybe, how about your entire purpose?

So, I always used to think to myself, the meaning of life is to give life a meaning. Makes sense I guess, but just hold on because what I'm about to say is pretty cheesy. But it's true. SO, how can you give your own life a meaning when you are somebody elses meaning? Now you may say, well if you're their meaning, aren't they yours? But that's not entirely true because there's a difference between purpose and meaning. My purpose is to be their meaning but it wasn't on purpose that I chose to be that - you know what I mean?

I always refer to them as "they" but I should probably change that to "my everything", no not in the sense that I like them, like that. I dunno, I mean I haven't decided yet... I can decide on a lot, I have. I decided in that moment when I chose to run and in 10 seconds flat, that felt like an eternity, I was hanging by his hand, kicking, crying so close to dying, but I couldn't die, because technically I wasn't even alive.

But "my everything" needed me in too many ways to count, more than the leaves on the trees, more than the stripes on bees and more than his cries and pleas. Actually, I've been sat here for a while now, just thinking what can be more than just a meaning. Because I had the revelation that to them I am more than that. Because he needed me so much more than when I said I wasn't alive, because once again, I lied! Because I've finally realised that I am so much more than that extra plate of food his mum placed out for me at the seat on the table when nobody else could see me, but he insisted - because he could. He could see me. I am more than that being late for school because he needed to make sure that I was okay and had everything that I needed to get through the day. I am so much more  than him telling his brother to say hello to me and apologise when he "bumped into me". Because you see, now they can see me. And you should too, that young boy's dreams do come true. Wishes are made and games are played and when I fell, falling, flailing like a white flag ripped off the pole that something, somewhere in the universe broke and I was no longer meaningless or purposeless. I did not  die. I came alive.

I was born from his imagination.

But imaginary will no longer be my first name.

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You stared at the paper, trying to get the words to soak in, "Oh fuck off" You scrunched up the paper and threw it across the bus, "fucking cringy man"

Over nine months, it's been over nine months since that cold February evening up until now, a cold November afternoon. And how far have you come? Far, I guess.

Suddenly there was a knocking on the rusty tin door. Two long knocks, three short ones, two long ones.

You got up from the floor and dusted yourself off, "Yeah come in"

The door slowly slid open and Mike entered the bus, he had a bunch of letters, from Will, in his hand.

Reflecting on his porcelain skin, the cool November light perfectly highlighted every feature and structure of Mike's face, he bent down and picked up the scrunched up paper you threw.

He read it through, twice, then spoke: "I don't know what to do with you"

You rolled your sleeves up, "You don't have to do anything. Was you who chose to look after me"

Mike scoffed and threw the paper down, "Look after you? Don't flatter yourself, you can manage just fine on your own, - I mean with this whole lone-wolf thing you've got going on. Hiding out in this scrap yard, sometimes in the forest, by the quarry", Mike stepped forwards, "But you know who can't look after themselves very well?" Mike stared at you, his eyes were wide and his nostrils were flared. Equally, you stared back, stubborn to his intimidating aurora.

Mike had grown and changed lot since the quarry, physically and mentally -  he was taller, his voice was deeper, he was stronger. Yet you had grown as well, you were taller, you were stronger - although, obviously, your voice wasn't deeper.

" y/n! " Mike yelled.

 You yelled back, "Will Byers! Yeah?! That the answer you were looking for?"

Mike ran his hands through his hair, he took a few moments, "Seriously," He pointed his finger at you, "You need to let go of this weird little grudge that you have against him, grow up. You are 16 for fuck sake, we're not cringy little 13 and 14 year olds anymore." He went to leave, but turned back, "Oh and you also need to face the fact that he kissed you, yeah?" He paused, and spoke softer for a second, "I know, with everything, it's a bit weird-" then he lost the soft tone as soon as he had found it, "But get a grip y/n"

Mike's chest was rising and falling rapidly, suddenly he threw the letters he had at you. You raised your hands to shelter your face.

"This is the last time I'm doing this, you can either stay here or come back into Hawkins and face Will. I'm not bringing you stuff anymore just so you can live out here, for God's sake you can come and live with me if you want. Just not out here." Mike stared at you, waiting for an answer.

Suddenly a car rolled up outside the scrap yard.

"Mike, who's that?" You peered out the window.

He looked at you, not breaking his gaze to even glance outside, "It's Steve"

Your eyes darted to him, "What, Steve Harrington?"

Mike nodded.

"What's he doing here?" You sat down.

"I asked if he would pick me up from here, I didn't bring my bike, I said I was collecting some scrap metal for a project" Mike folded his arms, "So are you going to come?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "What? Now?"

Mike sat next to you, "Yeah, I can just say you're a mate of mine who I met up with, Steve isn't all that bright so it would be pretty easy to stay under the radar" Mike did glance outside now, "And you could use whatever weird little thing it is you've figured out how to do, to make yourself invisible at will"

You tried to repress a smirk, "Sounds a bit cheesy does that"

He shrugged, "Guess" Mike looked at you, "Come on y/n, you need to stop this hiding. You've had your alone time but now Will really needs you. Have you heard of the anniversary effect?" Mike asked.

"Yeah, it's what people who are suffering from PTSD might have, like when it's the anniversary of something traumatic that happened to them." You said matter of factly, you looked at Mike, he raised an eyebrow at you, "Mike I know, I am aware", you thought back to Will.

Steve honked the car horn.

" y/n I know this isn't you, it's been too long" Mike held his hand out to you.

You took it and stood up, Mike turned around to leave but before he managed to you gave him a hug. He hugged you back and you rested your head on his shoulder.

You sighed "See you some other time Mike"

Then he could no longer see you.

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