𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳? ⇢ ʙʏʟᴇʀ

talking in your sleep

Through the course of the first week and a half of being home and away from the pristine, white walled confinement of the hospital, Will Byers discovered many facts about his life and who he had been. Some of them fit against him like a puzzle piece, like a perfect spot had been chiselled out inside of him just for them. Others felt loose, misshapen like he could picture somebody else being such a way but never himself.

One of those misshapen concepts was friendship.

Will could imagine himself having friends before hand, and he knew it was a fact that he did. Such a fact felt hollow, however: and not knowing what kind of a person he was definitely helped flesh it out. He could see the beauty in people like Lucas and Dustin, even Blue. They were set on helping the boy understand who he had been, and even more so than that, they were set on helping him remember.

Equally, Will understood why they were so frustrated. They wouldn't show it any more than the subtle look of misunderstanding in their eyes that Will caught on occasion as they told him stories of what the four of them used to get up to. Will always noticed, however, and through the mild sting it would send up through his chest, he understood. He wasn't the only one who was hurting. 

Friendship was a loose fact, but he was working on it.

Oddly enough, though, a pretty concrete fact that Will had discovered as he had crawled out of bed just after 9am on that first gloomy Saturday morning, was that he loved music.

Will had been tossing and turning for the majority of the early morning, whether his body had been trying to wake him or he was just uncomfortable, only he knew. He'd been in the centre of some dismal dream, an almost inescapable scene that his brain had abandoned the moment he'd opened his eyes. The only thing that remained with the boy from such a nightmare, even temporarily, was the sickening feeling that clouded his torso like a thick fog, as well as the distant visual of snowflakes drifting towards the forest floor.

Will opened his eyes in a careful squint, shying away from the sunlight that was streaming blindly through his window. Another fact that he was quick to discover was that Will Byers was not, not a morning person. Before his senses had fully come to, the boy rolled over and gave a good yank to his comforter, knowing full well that half of it was trapped underneath his side. Raising his head and pushing stray hair away from his eyes, Will eyed the clock sitting on the night table next to his bed, able to make out the numbers '9:12' through his blurry vision. He was still half asleep yet, so much so that he abandoned his efforts and dug his face into the crook of his elbow to block out the light briefly. He remained silent, though as he laid crumpled up like this, it struck him as to why he was awake at such an early time, especially on a Saturday.

From his bedroom, Will could hear the sound of music blasting through the wall across the hallway.

Climbing out of bed, Will crossed the threshold of his room in several lazy strides, giving his eyes a gentle rub. He could feel the subtle vibrations coming from whatever sound system Jonathan was using through the floorboards, and the disruptive sensation that rose up through Will's feet almost made him want to hop back into bed and remain wrapped up in his sheets for the rest of the morning.

Though he couldn't confirm it himself, Will came to the conclusion that his older brother was one of two things. He was either a serious morning person, breakfast at the crack of dawn and all, or he was bat shit crazy.

Opening up his bedroom door with a delicate creak, Will was greeted with a closed light wood door directly across from his room, further proving just how loud Jonathan must have been playing his music. Will stepped out into the hallway quietly, glancing down towards the front door and taking in the relative stillness of the house, even with rock music creating the home's Saturday morning ambience. Through the muffled sound of guitar riffs and drums, Will could barely make out the words to the song as he approached Jonathan's door. Placing a hand on the knob and slowing his roll a bit, Will hesitated as though he was taking in what he was hearing.