𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝚈 𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙳? ⇢ ʙʏʟᴇʀ

cranial dissonance

17.

Will had counted 17 bright orange cars since he had taken a seat next to the large glass window that was installed just outside of his doctor's office that early Friday afternoon, and he was quickly discovering another one of his "Will Byers Facts": Will Byers was good at multitasking.

-

Though he was still a bit drowsy from his lack of sleep the night before, Will was quite capable of paying full attention to the conversation that was supposed to be out of his earshot as he catalogued the sights the streets below were granting him. He had seen a couple people arguing just outside the hospital's front doors, and he had seen multiple people drive rather recklessly around each other down on the main road that stretched out in front of the building he was in. And he had counted 17 orange cars, tapping his fingers patiently against his jean-clad kneecap as he added another to his tally, watching as it coasted down the drive with ease.

It had only been a few hours since he had dressed himself into a chilly, stiff hospital gown and settled into the long stretch of the machine that haunted his dreams, and his own head. It was mystical to him; a foreseer of sorts that could ultimately send his life into a crippling and splintering state like rotting wood at the bottom of a ship, or it could resurrect him. Bring him back to the way he had been, to the person he had been and at least, in some way, relieve him while he waited for such a magical event to take place.

He had stared up into the crescent shaped roof of the machine, staying just as still he could as he thought, in such a vicious terror that he had to stiffen a bit to keep from shaking, about what the results might bring him. They could kill him or set him free, and when he truly thought about it without any exterior suggestions, he really wasn't sure if he wanted either one more than the other. With this came another realization: Will Byers hated going to see the doctor.

He had gotten redressed into his own clothing, more comfortable but still so unsettled, when the doctor had finally called for his mother to enter his office so they could discuss the results. Joyce had cautiously turned towards Will, shooting a passing look out the large glass window as she had twisted around to speak to him.

"We won't be too long, okay?" Joyce had assured him, seemingly unsure herself as she pressed her lips together and shot a brief look around the room. It was a stark white, spic and span just like a hospital was expected to be. This meant, in return, that there was really nothing for Will to do while he was waiting anxiously in his seat, and Will assumed, in some embarrassed but understanding way, that Joyce might have been worrying that he would decide to take a stroll somewhere and get himself lost again. They both knew that he'd done enough of that since he'd gotten back home.

"Here's a little game. Why don't you—" Joyce paused, gesturing out the window as she carried on, "—why don't you see how many orange cars you can count driving by while you wait? Or red, or blue, or—whatever you'd like" she said softly, giving her son a timid smile as her hand reached up to ruffle his hair, fingertips brushing his shoulder lovingly as she turned away and entered the doctor's office, only pulling the door half closed as though that might prevent Will from hearing what they were saying. He was, virtually, left alone in that waiting room then, and for a moment, Will was actually startled by how silent the whole place seemed to be. Too silent for a hospital, he had thought to himself, before turning to look out the window and into the parking lot and streets below.

He hadn't really been listening intently when he first heard his mother's voice, her tone hushed under a cloud of nervousness as he peered out the window. In reality, he hadn't even been focusing on counting the cars, and in the end, as he let his fingers keep track of the ones he noted, he would wonder if he had counted them wrong all along. His mind had been wandering like a dog without a leash, weaving and dipping through different stories he'd heard over the weeks before and it had wandered, like it always did and always would, to that one familiar face that he couldn't quite drive out of his head. Blue.