Chapter Text
The first time Will saw her was after he'd been rescued and pulled out of that dim, swampy, dull and dark hellhole of a universal reflection, where he'd run for his life faster than ever before and sang as quiet as possible.
It kept the big ones out, repelled them like they were physically in pain by just the quiet, out-of-tone murmurs of his frantic singing and humming while huddled in the farthest corner of a darker, colder, and unwelcome copycat of Castle Byers.
The important conclusion was that Will despised the place, afraid for his life, having almost escaped once before with his damn life. How could you expect a poor, mortified, and exhausted small boy, still in elementary school, to know his hand could have reached through the gooey, icky window back to his dear mother? This wasn't Dungeons & Dragons. This was life, and situations like this render your logical thinking useless, your only instinct becoming: RUN. Run like never before, little boy, run until your legs trip and twist, burning and aching, breaking slowly but just keep damn running.
When his mother told him to run, he didn't see the humanoid gorgonic monster chasing him like he was prey. This new species of Demogorgon was more intelligent and quicker and could talk. Will had been half-convinced that he'd lost his mind, finally succumbing to the darkness swallowing him up, tearing at his soul. He knew that 'soul' was the right word because the pain and emptiness reached deeper than his nerves could pick up, farther than his mind could see. And right now, curled up defensively in his bed, Will could still remember the terror and the screams when the thing crashed through his protective, comforting fort - the only remainder of home. He watched the sticks fall around him, and he might have passed out, been knocked out, or had the damn life sucked out of him because suddenly, he woke up unable to breathe. A worm (?) was wriggling through his airway and squeezing through, leaving him wheezing and gasping past it. It reached towards his stomach, too, making him sick all over but unable to vomit with the worm acting as a gag.
He missed mom. He missed Jonathan. He missed Lucas, Dustin, and most of all, he missed Mike. He longed for his best friend, the same one who felt more to him than a best friend. Someone he'd give his sacrifice for, someone for who he wouldn't mind getting stuck in this hellhole if it meant protecting Mike. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if Mike disappeared in his stead.
Of course, damn all that because it was sick to like another boy. Will didn't fit in with what was right, what was moral. What wasn't disgusting and sick. He wasn't like them. Dad was right about him, which was the precise reason he never opened up completely to everyone. The precise reason why his party, his best friends, asked every day if the look on his face meant he was okay, and if he was concealing something, like a liar.
Yes, he was. And he'll take the title of 'liar' any day over their reactions to 'gay'. Any, damn, day.
"You know, sulking like this isn't gonna change anything," Will pulled the covers around him closer, not about to turn towards the woman. "I'm still here, buddy."
He sighed, staring intently at the musty, wooden wall and the torn, dull yellow wallpaper. His lamp flickered, irritating his sight, and he reached over and obstinately clicked it off, still without turning to face the woman.
"I know. Go away," he said simply. He wasn't a naive boy, though. Will knew she wouldn't leave - not until she got whatever she wanted. He just didn't feel like dealing with her after hours of vomiting in the sink. The bile still stung his throat, and every while tears bunched up in his eyes, threatening to fall. His stomach continued to turn like something was still in him.
It didn't go away for months after his disappearance, and he was beginning to think he'd live miserably for eternity.
And that ginger lady was still here.
Will tossed the covers off, jumping up and settling on his bed anxiously. He looked at her but refused to make eye contact with a corpse.
"You're Nancy's friend," he pointed out. Mike's sister always hung out with this ginger woman her age who wore glasses. She was pretty in the same way his mother was - comfortingly warm. Her gaze was soft and her smile reassuring. She was like the big sister Will never had (if his assumptions of her personality were correct. She always seemed to try to direct Nancy to the right path).
If only he could remember her name. Was it Bonnie..? No, something like Barbie. Barb. Barbara!
"Barbara, right?"
She nodded, pushing herself off his desk and slowly moving forward to take a seat at the foot of his bed. He flinched, shying away from her. His back pressed up against the headboard.
"Yeah, Barbara, Barb," she said, tracing the pattern of his fluffed blanket with her right index finger.
"Well, what do you want?"
"Nothing."
"Then go away," he demanded, his voice rising in volume, trying to seem intimidating when in truth he was scared out of his wits. Barbara's friend was assumed dead, right? That's what Mike told him.
Right?
"I can't."
"What?"
Barbara faced him, the most obvious expression on her face, stating 'you don't know?'
"I can't go away. I'm stuck with you."
Will seethed in silence for a moment, imagining her slowly morphing into one of those horrible creatures. It was a trap, she was luring him and he was sure of it.
"Yes, you can, right now."
"Are you deaf?" She retorted in a more joking manner, grinning slightly.
"Can't leave, attached to you now."
He sat up, adjusting his position, glaring at the older woman.
"But you're dead."
"Yeah. Something to do with your soul and shit, so I'm stuck with you now."
Will wasn't sure whether he was relieved that she wasn't a Demogorgon, or even more afraid that she wasn't leaving. Unsettled, perhaps.
He turned, stuffing his face into his pillow to try and restrain the sick feeling spreading through his body. It left a bad taste in his mouth. Was he actually ill? He knew he should mention it to his mom, but he didn't want to worry her. Knowing Joyce Byers, she'd just fret over her son, and part of Will just wanted to feel normal again (even when he knew nothing would ever go back to the way it was).
Everything was so surreal he wanted to cry.
A hand settled on his back, rubbing circles into it. It stifled his cries and calmed his breathing. He glanced back and found Barb smiling.
"Sleep. I get my energy from you."
He smiled slightly, a sign of gratitude, and closed his eyes, drifting off.
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He was shaken awake gently, rubbing at his eyes as his blurry vision tried to focus on who was waking him so early.
"Mom..?
"Barb." The ginger teen came into focus, and he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. Barbara sat near his small frame and patted his shoulder.
"Wake up, Will," she persisted, turning him over gently so he faced his bedside drawer. She pointed at his clock.
"It's 7am."
Will stared for a few moments, his mind still a bit slow from the horrible sleep he had. It showed in his dark eye bags and his slightly morning cranky attitude. He rubbed his eyes again rather severely, aggravated at the headache that plagued his mind and the aches deep in his bones.
He cursed under his breath when he finally read the time, jumping up and throwing the blanket off him. He rushed to get into a shirt and realised he'd slept in his clothes, so he kept the same ones on (a blue-collar shirt and denim shorts) and went to quickly use the bathroom. Politely, Barbara stayed out of his business. Instead, the ghost explored his home. She entered a room with a double bed and many pictures of the family - must be the mother's room. She'd already seen Jonathan's, who had posters of popular bands hung up on his walls and a radio just like Will's. Wherever she went, lights flickered for a moment or two before returning to normal. She figured it was because of the oddity that she was able to even exist, sharing a soul with Will (accurately, her soul actually latched onto Will's. They were still separate people with free will, just chained in some link).
She spotted a certain picture that stood out from the rest, grabbing the frame to inspect it closer. There was a man in it who hadn't been included in the rest of the pictures, and Will looked youngest here. The family didn't look very happy gathered around him.
A sound and heavy footsteps were darting into the kitchen. Will headed to pull on his socks and shoes at the door, grabbing a handful of crackers from the counter. His mom and brother had already left for work and forgot to wake him. Maybe they were also tardy and rushed to be on time, just as Will was now.
Barbara grabbed the frame and quickly reappeared beside Will, tapping his shoulder. She raised the photo, a finger on the man with a questioning expression.
"Dad," Will replied simply, his tone making it very clear he did not want to discuss this topic further. Barb sighed, returning to place the photo onto the dining table and climbing onto Will's bike behind him. It wasn't that she couldn't go anywhere on her own, just that she couldn't be away from Will in a radius of more than thirty or so metres, and this was much less tiring than floating around the boy and tailing him to school, or letting her soul get dragged. Will allowed her to hop onto his bike behind him since a week had passed. Barb was getting used to life with the Byers. It was established she would follow him to school on Will's bike, and she would be as quiet as possible. The young boy followed the path he usually favoured on the side road to the main street, waving to any neighbours who knew him or wished him a good morning. He did not don his usual friendly, heartwarming smile. His lips did perk up slightly but not very brightly. It was a bit worrying, but considering what the kid had been through, it was a fair mood.
Barbara stayed out of Will's way when he spotted his group, waving at them enthusiastically. The other three boys waved back when they parked their bikes.
"Hey guys," Will greeted, almost crashing into the parking slot. He was just barely in time to pull the brakes. Barb figures it was probably on purpose - Will's party were very skilled with their bicycles.
While the other three were looking away, Will quickly glanced behind him at Barb, an expression that conveyed his message because Barb was smart and used to reading Nancy's body language when she was still alive. She hopped off with some noise - that was the side effect of her ghost. She was a sort of poltergeist, meaning she could touch and move physical objects, make sounds and rackets with other objects and flicker lights (though the lights part was probably just her soul borrowing energy).
"Woah, is your bike alright?" Dustin commented, his face scrunched up at Will's bike. The mentioned boy winced, a bit nervous.
"Y-yeah, probably just got off wrong," he mumbled, risking a glance at Barb. She shrugged, walking off to chase Nancy. Will visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping along with most of his tension. Mike raised an eyebrow at this, seemingly having been the only one who noticed Will's behaviour (considering that Lucas and Dustin were rambling in the background about something probably dumb). He pulled at his bag strap, jogging to keep in step with Will.
He snuck a glance, trying to read Will's mood. He seemed anxious and stressed and looked horrible like he hadn't slept in forever - not with those dark, worrying eye bags. Even his walk seemed forced, his legs dragging across the concrete ground rather than stepping. Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him over, stopping him.
Will jerked and turned to look at Mike, quite surprised at this gesture. He pulled his arm out of Mike's grip quickly, startled.
"Will, are you okay?"
Will stared for a few moments, trying to understand Mike's words. He blinked blankly, pointlessly searching Mike's face for any hint of what Mike'd said to him. For a while, Mike thought Will had chosen silence as an answer and was beginning to get anxious-
"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," Will replied blankly, turning to make for the school entrance. Mike stood frozen, glued to the spot and baffled, staring at the back of Will's head.
Lucas and Dustin, who witnessed their little conversation, jogged to Mike with equally disoriented spirits. All three stared after the youngest and then turned to Mike when Will disappeared into the school grounds.
"What was that about?" Dustin asked bluntly, a little worried for their traumatized friend.
Mike shook his head.
"Nothing. Come on, guys."
Lucas and Dustin exchanged questionable looks behind Mike, suspicious of the other two's behaviour.
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"This is the AV club?"
It was after school hours, and Will let himself into the AV club with Mike and the others. Eleven was having a lot of fun learning all about radio components and channel workings, whilst Will stayed behind to make small talk with his ghost friend.
She glanced around, taking in the room. It wasn't much of a sight, just one ceiling lamp and a table where thousands of little radios and satellites, plus a microphone, crowded around and barely fit on the small tabletop. Wires snaked along the floor towards outlets and though Barb was technically dead, she was careful not to trip or touch one.
Will gave her a look when he saw her struggling to get herself out of a wiry situation, and she looked back, locking eyes for a moment.
"Poltergeist, stuck," she explained, raising her arms while on her tippy toes, trying to find a good route to take that wouldn't alert the entire group.
"Help?" She asked sheepishly, and Will sighed, subtly kicking the wires away from her with his heel. She bowed her head in thanks and hopped between the gaps until she reached the centre.
"How'd you even get stuck there?" he whispered.
"Don't ask how a ghost thinks," she replied, shrugging.
Will shot her a questioning glare, daring her to explain how the hell a poltergeist - who can float - gets tangled in wires.
"Don't look at me like that," she raised her hands defensively. "Can't a dead person have some fun and act silly?"
Will chuckled, shaking his head in joking disapproval.
"Will, come on!" Dustin called him over. "We reached Australia again."
Dustin was barely able to say that with a straight face, giggling like a little schoolgirl.
Will looked at Barb, beckoning her to join the fun quietly. He stepped over, watching Lucas make weird noises into the microphone like a failed beatboxer, and watched Barb fight the urge to laugh in the corner of his eye.
Mike bumped arms with him, catching Will's attention.
"Hey, you can take a turn after me."
Mike's smile was so radiating and beautiful to Will that his heart ached to see it every second. He wished Jonathan was here to help him get a picture (but that would probably turn out awkward). He settled for watching the ravenette pick up the microphone and ask comedic, Australia-stereotypical questions about their kangaroos and accents. He almost never wanted to take his turn - hearing Mike's captivating voice and contagious laughter was so much more satisfying and heartwarming.
Will caught Barb tutting at him disbelievingly, and he shook his head at her in question.
"You're so obvious," she mumbled, glancing at Mike and back. Will's face visibly reddened.
"Wh-wha-?!"
"Will, who are you talking to?"
Mike was pretty much looking at Will as if he were a looking glass. Will was sure Mike was drilling into his soul with that gaze. His blush deepened because of the embarrassment of having his crush look at him that way - what a combination.
"Fine," Will stammered, like a mess. "No one."
The entire room was staring at Will now, extra concerned - except for Barbara, who'd been sighing and folding her arms for the past few minutes in disappointment.
'Work on your flirting,' she mouthed. Will glared at her before looking back to Mike, seeing the headphones were off and on the table. He quickly picked them up.
"Is it my turn?" he said, looking for a change of subject.
"Yeah, it is," Mike got up from the chair, giving Will space to sit and Dustin practically slapped the headphones onto Will's ears. Will yelped, and Dustin merely shrugged, gesturing to him to speak already.
"What do you want me to say??" Will whisper-yelled, fiddling with the microphone shyly.
"Ask them about Australian myths or something, I dunno!" Lucas answered, dragging the mic closer to Will's face, who pushed himself farther from the table.
"I mean, there's always that one about their koalas being stoned, or that their toilets flush backwards," Barb suggested, raising her hands in defence as if ready for a retort. Will raised an eyebrow.
"Seriously?"
"Why not?"
He facepalmed.
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Surprisingly, it became clear that it was difficult focusing in class and at the AV club with a spirit conjoined to your soul. Especially when you're the only person they can speak to, and all you can do is listen to their babbling and attempt to drown it out as you feebly try to focus on your studies.
All anyone needed to know was that Will was out of it for the entire past two weeks, and everyone noticed. Even Nancy, the teachers, Steve, and most of all Jonathan and Mike.
But it was becoming a little obvious that Mike was grieving, so Will put up a facade near his best friend, for his sake. Will decided that alongside his interest in painting, he should just try out for the Drama club and become a theatre kid because after he began his facade everyone believed he was okay again. That he wasn't going through an existential crisis every day, unable to get out of bed if it weren't for his family and Barb; like he didn't look at himself in the bathroom mirror every morning and night, his grip on the sink tight like he might fall if he let go, looking into that glass at himself in self-loathing and then proceeding to vomit uncontrollably afterwards.
Anytime now, Will was soon going to lose it and break.
Speaking of losing it, just moments ago Will felt a meltdown coming on and excused himself to the male's restroom. He peeked through the door slowly and when he saw no one was inside, he ran in and locked the door, clutching the third sink and dry-heaving over it. He thought something would come up, but nothing did for the next twenty minutes, and he could hear banging on the door and demands to unlock it.
Then the world changed right under his feet, flickering between hell and reality, so Will gave up on trying to extract whatever was irritating his stomach and locked himself in a stall. He let himself slide down the door, forgetting the locked door and cried, sobbing painfully. He could taste the salty tears on his lips and tried hard to swallow past the large stone-like lump stuck in his throat. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he just accepted he was stuck like this forever. Stuck between two worlds, and no one would be able to help but the ginger ghost that followed him like a shadow, and Barb wasn't here to force him out of his depressing trance. Familiar, terrifying shrieks sounded through the now empty, dark, and cold halls of Hawkins Middle School, and Will cried, remembering a time his nights weren't plagued by Demogorgons and his waking life wasn't haunted by anomalies and gateways and flickering lights. He couldn't decipher what was reality anymore like he was going insane; he felt it in his head, that feeling of undescribable craziness-
"WILL!"
Will opened his eyes (he hadn't even realised he'd shut his eyes and held his hands over his ears in his panic), turning his head to the right slightly and leaning against the door to the stall on his right. Until someone banged on it hard, and the door shook with the vibrations, making Will's body jerk in surprise. He incidentally roughly slammed his shoulder on the toilet seat and yelped, confirming his existence to whoever stood outside the stall.
Will finally acknowledged the fact that someone was banging on his door, trying to reach him.
"GO AWAY!"
He didn't mean to scream, and he didn't mean for the scream to sound so frightened or broken.
"Will? What's wrong?" The voice was pleading, and Will noticed three sets of shoes under the stall. The closest to the stall seemed jittery, unable to stand still. His feet shifted from side to side almost constantly. "Please open the door! It's Mike!"
That was why Will recognized the voice.
He jumped up, rubbing at his eyes roughly (that would definitely become sore later), and wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve. It was all for nought, but he tried anyway. When he unlocked the stall and pulled it open quickly, the troubled looks on his friends' faces grew even more worried.
"H-hey guys," he winced, his voice failing him when he spoke, cracking and trembling. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, too. Shit. So much for 'subtle', Byers.
"Will? Were you crying?" Lucas pointed out and Dustin nodded, agreeing.
"You're shaking," Mike pointed out.
"I'm okay, just a little sick I think," he lied. Well - he half lied. He did feel sick earlier on and still did. It just wasn't the full truth.
"No, you're obviously not okay, Will," Mike insisted, and damn that ravenette because Will felt like crying again.
Frustrated, he gave up and threw himself at Mike, bawling like a toddler. He hasn't cried like this in a long time, not even when they pulled him out of that hell. He'd stayed calm through the whole process and through the recovery aftermath. Not anymore. He was done being calm.
Mike was startled for a moment, taking two small steps backwards before he finally balanced himself and quickly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy. Lucas and Dustin took this as a sign to leave them be - they both knew how Mike and Will really felt for each other. It wasn't exactly a secret to the friends, Nancy, and the Byers. Or rather, just Jonathan - they didn't think Joyce knew yet.
But Mike was blind and kissed El when Will was gone, suffering in the depths of hell.
Just for now, though, the two would let them have their moment. They both deserved it. So they left, pulling the bathroom door closed and leaving Mike and Will standing in the middle of the restroom, holding on to each other for different but very similar reasons, like two sides of the same coin trying to find reassurance.
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Will cursed under his breath, dipping down to pick up his crayons. The pigments were scattered all over the carpet, and he flung his arms in frustration. He retrieved as many colours as he could, setting the crayon bin on his desk and he dropped onto the foot of his bed with his head in his hands. Some crayons had rolled into corners or little crevices that would prove annoying for him to dig out, so he gave up in the meantime, the papers on his desk all scattered. If Will had to be honest, he'd already forgotten which drawing he'd currently been working on, and what ideas he had in mind for it.
Will was exhausted and done feeling miserable. It seemed to be the only emotion he really knew ever since the incident a few months back, and Barb wasn't around to startle him.
The lights flickered spasmodically, and Will jerked, eyes darting all over the room before he relaxed. He, rather quickly, moved to switch both lamp outlets and the light switch off, settling for a gaslamp instead. He was done being startled by fluorescent sources.
Will swore to God (if there was one) that the next time this happens, he'd throw the damn lamps out the window-
"Will."
Will jumped, tripping backwards on a crayon and tumbling onto his backside rather harshly with a cry. He looked up at the intruder, finding glasses and ginger hair in his face. Raising a hand, Will pushed the ghost away.
"Barb, please, that made me jump," he breathed, trying to retrieve the oxygen that entirely left his body.
"Sorry. You slipped on this," she placed a turquoise-tinted crayon in his lap and turned to the desk. "Are you drawing?"
"Yeah," he replied, too exhausted to correct her. He was 'sketching', not drawing. He hadn't coloured the piece yet and was using the black coloured pencil at the moment. "I was."
She flipped through the dishevelled pile of pages on Will's table, briefly inspecting every paper.
"You drew all of these?" She asked, more as a compliment than a real question, hand waving at the many plastered drawings on his walls and door.
"I did."
"They're incredibly cool. You're going to be an artist?"
"Planning to. Perhaps engineering."
She nodded in comprehension, shifting back to staring at his artworks. One specific piece caught her eye, and she held it up for Will to see.
"For Mike?"
"What?" Will's head flitted up, trying to identify this particular one. It was a complete, coloured drawing made as a gift to his best friend.
Raising his right hand, his index finger came to rest upon the figures in the drawing. Mike and Will. A swing set. Leaves. Children.
It was the day they met, the most important event that ever happened to Will, and the happiest memory. It was a bit sloppier than his other art, but he'd been feeling very emotionally sentimental and - in his defence, his vision may have gotten a bit blurry from the nostalgic tears.
This was made months back. Will forgot to hand it to Mike.
"I see the way you look at him, Will," Barb broke the silence, snatching the paper out of his shaking hands (when had Will grabbed it?).
Will refused to look at her and remained strictly fixated on the old carpet beneath his cold feet. It was cold. Will used to love winter; not anymore.
He shivered, arms covering his midriff and torso as he curled into himself, trying to hide from the chill.
"Cold?" Barb hovered over with blankets, pillows, and sheets in hand. Will yawned, nodding slightly and then shaking his head.
"I-I'm fine," he attempted to lie with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes or cheeks. Barb rolled her eyes, dragging Will onto his bed and laying his head on the pillow. She bunched up the blankets around him as softly and warmly as she could.
Will hadn't noticed how late it was until he saw the clock next to him. It read 3:57 A.M. He had school tomorrow.
He groaned, turning to stuff his face into his pillow out of pure, grumpy, annoyed exhaustion. Barb chuckled.
"Go to bed, already," she retrieved his scattered art neatly, placing it on a pile on his desk. "You can finish your drawing for your boyfriend tomorrow."
Will didn't pick up on what she said last, eyelids heavy and already drifting off.
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The sunlight slowly wafted into Will's darkened room at dawn, stealing Will's sleep with it. That didn't mean he wasn't still incredibly exhausted.
With a sigh, he shoved himself out of bed, almost tripping over his two feet. The boy regained his balance and didn't bother waking Mom or Jonathan - it was a Friday after all.
Work days for all of them, but Will was the only one awake now to get to school early, and his family's hours don't begin until 8 am. It was almost 6 am.
He mindlessly poured himself some milk with the cereal, mind more focused on his latest friend. Barb was nowhere - had she slept in? But she said she got her energy from his sleep, so that wasn't right.
Will tried to stomach his poorly-made breakfast, but the ill sensation wouldn't go away. It felt more like he was forcing little spoonfuls of soggy cornflakes down his clogged throat and full stomach and his body was trying to reject it.
He swallowed it down and left half the cereal uneaten, frustratingly dropping his spoon onto the bowl with a loud clank and pushing himself off the table with his bag. If he was going to wake early, he'll go early.
"Will? Where are you?" a sleepy voice called. The ghostly synergy wafted through his door and followed him outside and on his way to school. Will didn't say a word, and Barb inspected him with a frown. Will didn't look back either, and his mind wasn't really entirely focused on the road and his bicycle. His pupils were slightly dilated and his eyes were distant, so Barbara left it alone.
When she saw Nancy, she gasped, tapping both roughly and gently onto Will's shoulder until he finally replied.
"What?"
She pointed towards the eldest Wheeler child, who was headed for the school entrance with none other than Jonathan Byers himself - Will's brother.
"I think she finally took my advice and got an upgrade," Barb praised quietly, gesturing towards Will's elder brother.
Will shook his head, bewildered at what Barb was suggesting. "Oh, no no, it's not like that at all."
"Seriously?"
"Mhm," he hummed, turning his head to face the ghost. Their weird phantom conversation probably earned him some odd stares and a new nickname.
"They just gawk at one another whenever Nancy comes over or when they see each other. I don't think they've realised."
"Bummer. Your brother's a great guy - perfect for Nancy."
Will hummed in response, not knowing how else to reply about a topic he never bothered himself much, to begin with.
His face brightened, his previous neutral frown dragged up slowly into a smirk, and he glanced at Barb.
"I think I can get you to talk to her."
Barb whipped around, having been focused on an innocent butterfly passerby. She let it go and watched Will's expression incredulously.
"How?"
And then Barb found herself in a younger male's body, closing the distance between her and Nancy like a man (woman?) on a mission. Her hand - or, rather, Will's hand - outstretched to lie on Nancy's shoulder, and Barb shot her a smile.
Nancy turned and smiled back politely, extending a hand to shake Barb's (Will's?).
"Nice to meet you. You must be Jonathan's brother - I'm Nancy," she greeted cheerfully. Will returned the welcome with a quick hug.
"So am I. I'm Will," he responded, unsure what more to say until the now phantomised Will whispered in Barb's very much human ear. She beamed warmly and softly spoke.
"I- Barb wanted me to tell you that she's proud of you for uh, living your own way and getting through all this chaos alive and strong," Barb said, her own voice feeling foreign to her. (Of course it felt foreign, she was utilising Will's.)
Nancy nodded, accepting the gesture silently. The two women stood and stared at one another, Barb longing to tell Nancy it was her speaking, not Will. Nancy would never believe her, though, and Will wanted to keep his freaky ability under wraps. So she dealt with it and watched Nancy walk away with her soon-to-be boyfriend.
Jonathan kept giving her (him?) peculiar glances. Will's body shivered, and suddenly Barb was pushing herself out of the vessel and pulling Will in again. He blinked rapidly, palms slightly sweaty and shaky from the process.
With a few deep breaths, he entered Hawkins Middle.
For Barbara, school passed in a wink, like a snowflake quickly evaporating on your palm. To Will, however, the day dragged on agonizingly. He looked at the clock every now in a while, hoping it would read 4 pm, and then proceed to groan in exasperation when the clock didn't. His leg bounced and his foot tapped anxiously on the ceramic floor in every class, and he couldn't stop fiddling. When the bell rang, it was like Will had been let off from a life sentence in jail. He couldn't have been happier to get out of there.
Barbara noticed this, and decided to try and take Will's mind off things with a little cooking class! (Will didn't seem like he knew much, having had both his parents very uninvolved with his life for incredibly different reasons.)
Will knocked a few times in his usual one-one-two-one (pause)-one-one patterned knock. It was a nice rhythm, a sort of coping mechanism Will had adjusted to and developed after his time in the Upside Down. It helped serve as a small, friendly reminder that constantly made Will remember that 'hey! Stop yelling - you're okay for fuck's sake.' It worked, but it wasn't exactly healthy. That was for him and Barb to know, though, and no one else.
Speaking of the ginger ghost, she continued to rummage through the kitchen cabinets for a while before finally deciding she was satisfied. Clapping and brushing her hands together to force off any powder or dust, she called for Will, who shortly came quietly. He trudged towards the counter and stood straight, chin slightly up and looking elsewhere other than Barb. Mostly the floor. She could tell he was paying attention, though.
"Today, I wanna show you how to cook up some ramen! I know you're not much of a cook, so," she gestured towards the pack of instant ramen set on the counter with scissors and a kettle already set on the stove with hot, boiling water. "I decided we'd start with instant foods and work our way up the levels."
Will nodded absently, seeming elsewhere than the present. Barb forced down her bubbling anxiety, attempting to get Will's vision and mind to focus - to snap out of its hazy, fuzzy state.
She taught him to set the pot, when exactly to determine to add the boiling water and how much. Will took mental notes and saved them in his memory bank for later - the skill would probably come in handy when Mom or Jonathan weren't around.
"How do you know all this?" He asked absentmindedly, trying to force a change of subject.
"I had to teach myself a few simple recipes since Mom was always so busy," Barb replied, "you won't believe how many tries it took to learn how to fry chicken nuggets."
Will chuckled at that, feeling his lifeline slowly return to him. He felt the present more distinctly now, and his mind was clearing up from the fog of the Upside Down.
Barb sat down with him as he slowly dug into the ramen. His eyes lit up with satisfaction and pride when he realised how good it tasted, and he glanced at Barb for approval. She nodded.
Barb helped clear the table after Will was done. It was the first time he could stomach something and not have the urge to puke. Will felt like a little brother to Barb; she wanted to protect him with her undead existence.
Over the lonely days, Barb was Will's only company, and Will learned many recipes. He even managed to teach himself some with the help of his mom, Nancy, and some teachers at school. He often borrowed mystical storybooks and cookbooks from the library too.
Will's mother once asked him where he got the skill and interest. Will simply smiled and said, "it's a secret!" The Byers family let their youngest do his thing, and often the busy ones came home to a lovely, miniature chef's surprise. The best part? - Will's food tasted delicious. One day, Will baked a cupcake and wanted Barb to try it, so with a cheerful giggle, he sprinted around the wisened house trying to find his ghost friend.
Barb never appeared, and Will was left disappointed at the kitchen table, head in his hands as he stared sadly at the dried muffin.
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A knock sounded on his door - or - specifically - the locked bathroom door he was leaning against - for the third time this morning. He wasn't about to open it, despite Jonathan's frantic pleas to open the door while Mom yelled Will's name around the house. He wasn't trying to be a jackass; it's just that he would have said something if it weren't for his panic attack overriding all his senses completely.
He could faintly hear and feel something (someone) shaking him, though not harshly. It was a gentle touch, trying to wake him from his trance. But he only sensed it. He couldn't hear his family, the dog, or the bathroom sink running.
At some point, the lock turned behind him. He jumped up, scrambling to the other side of the bathroom and darting around, trying to find a sufficient hiding place; but their bathroom was plain and basic, and Will was a good hider only when there was somewhere to hide, so he settled for shelter behind the door. Surely the thing wouldn't see him if it swung the door open and he was concealed behind the wood.
Unless it crashed through, just as it did with otherworldly Castle Byers.
Will was beginning to have second thoughts. He shuddered, trembling terribly, and his actions were jittery and out of control. Will tried to find something to hold on to that wasn't a part of this visionary hell, and when he couldn't, he settled for sliding down the wall slowly and hugging his knees, trying so hard to stifle his cries that his chest ached.
"Will, listen to me," someone whispered in his ear. He jumped, looking about.
Suddenly it was Mom hugging him, holding him tight as she cried for her unconscious boy. It was his first trance in front of her, third if you counted his nightly panic attacks. It started eleven months after he escaped the Upside Down, nine after he met Barbara, his self-proclaimed elder sister.
She ruffled his hair, the taller woman wrapping two strong arms around him in a protective hold.
"You're okay."
"Mom," Will mumbled to test if she was real, clutching onto her sleeve as he buried his face into her, trying to hide from the imaginary, anomaly terrors. Their shrieks and growls still echoed in his mind on play and repeat. His family and friends helped drown out the memories, even if only for a few hours.
Jonathan rushed in when he no longer heard his mom yelling for Will, figuring she'd found him. Will felt another set of arms wrap around both of them, stronger still, and let himself sink into the warmth of his bloodline. Mom rocked her youngest son back and forth gently, running her hands through his soft hair multiple times.
He shut his eyes and lost himself in their love, forgetting what had caused him a bad morning.
It had been eleven months after he escaped the Upside Down, nine after he met Barbara, and six since Barbara had disappeared. Will never saw her again.