011 · Y/n story by @yudontknowlucyx

The Byers' living room was a mess of blankets and sleeping bags, lit only by the faint glow of a table lamp. It was past nine, and the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the old floorboards.

Joyce Byers

whispering from the armchair He's shaking again.

Jonathan Byers

I'll get another blanket.

Mike, Lucas, and Dustin were a tangled heap on the floor near the couch, already asleep. Will was on the couch itself, curled under a quilt. His breathing hitched, a small, pained sound escaping his lips.

Joyce Byers

gets up, hovering Will? Honey?

Chief Hopper

from the kitchen doorway, voice low Let him sleep, Joyce. He’s exhausted.

Will twitched violently, his hand flailing out from under the covers. His eyes were shut tight, but his face was pinched with fear.