Will Byers stands beside Y/n, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his corduroy jacket. He's thinner than Y/n remembers from class, his dark hair longer, falling into his eyes. There's a tension in his shoulders, a way he keeps glancing down the road as if expecting something — or someone — to appear.

The bikes of Mike, Lucas, and Dustin grow smaller as they pedal away, Holly perched on the back of Mike's, her red helmet bobbing. They'd lingered, waiting for Joyce, but with the sun beginning to dip, they'd finally relented.

The car pulls into the lot, sputtering to a stop a few feet away. Joyce Byers practically leaps out, her hair a mess, her coat buttoned wrong. Her face is flushed, apologetic, but then she freezes, her eyes landing on Y/n.