#* starter .

[skulrot-blog]

                    tag  dump  .

[byersarchives]

── .✦ @guiltskates / let's dance – david bowie.

if you say run, i’ll run with you,

his birthday comes like a soft chime in a house still half-haunted : another candle pressed into the frosting of a happy ending that feels too bright, too sharp, a light that will stain them all the rest of their lives. and el is not with them.

will never imagined the end of the world would sound like this ; not explosions, not sirens, just silence. long corridors of it. silence that stretches between heartbeats, that lingers in the space between bitten lips and words almost spoken. 

he doesn’t know what to do with himself in the months after their final loss, after their greatest victory. he had always believed the story would close with him at its center, that his end would be the one to finish what was started so many years ago in the dark. he was certain his fate would blaze out in something sacrificial, something final.

he never once imagined he would live long enough to see the quiet.

but he is here.

and she isn’t.

the thought feels wrong, like a door he shouldn’t open. as if even shaping her name in the darkness of his mind is an act of trespass. as if imagining the exchange ( her breath for his, her life for his own ) is a cruelty that twists the knife already lodged beneath his ribs. survivor’s arithmetic is merciless ; no equation ever balances.

he is okay. he thinks he is okay. he smiles when lucas and mike fall into familiar arguments over strategy, their voices rising with harmless urgency. he laughs when dustin and max bicker over something trivial, something beautifully ordinary. he can play his part in the world they fought for.

most days, that is enough. but today is different.

it’s his birthday and they’re trying to make it good. this day belongs to him, and it feels wrong that it does. what is there to celebrate, really? the fact that he lived? the fact that someone braver, brighter, didn’t?

she is still gone.

he presses his teeth into his lip and watches his mother’s laughter spill freely as her arms curl around hopper. a song by david bowie drifts through the speakers, bright and glittering, urging them to dance. the makeshift dance floor stands empty for a moment, a small, unclaimed universe of light.

maybe she would have claimed it. maybe she would have spun in the center, fierce and unselfconscious, pulling the rest of them into orbit.

there is no way to know, because she isn’t here to show them. 

the music swells. bowie sings about dancing. the room begins to feel too full –– too warm, too loud. the laughter echoes and the air thins. will scans the crowd until he finds the one presence that he knows won’t overwhelm him right now. the one person who will feel steady in the noise.

he crosses the room quickly, the urgency flashing across his face for just a second before he smooths it into something gentler, something controlled. a mask he’s gotten very good at wearing.

“ max, ” he says softly, the word barely more than breath.

then, steadier, though his hands tremble at his sides, “ max. can we take five minutes? just five. outside? please? ”

and if you say hide, we'll hide.

[byersarchives]

── .✦ starter for @nat2wenty.

his eyes haven't left mike. head throbbing from the impact of hitting the ground, a bruise leaving another stain on his already battered body, and vision flickering when he tries to focus on anything ; but will can't stop staring at mike.

what is he thinking ? will never knows anymore. there's concern at seeing no trace of tears, but it's no surprise. he can see the devastation beneath his tense shoulders, years of practice making him a witness of mike's quiet unraveling ; and it hurts, because there's nothing will can do. he wants to say something that will fix it, something that will give mike a shape to put this grief into. but, despite any word he could say ... holly will still be lost, missing, down there, in his hands.

will feels it again, that pull at the back of his neck, sharper when those thoughts invade him. when his breathing goes shallow.  he lingers in the spaces mike doesn’t look at. in the guilt that sits heavy in his chest: i should have been there for you. i should have done something more, when she was yelling for help. i'm sorry this is happening to you, to her.

he sits beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touch, close enough to anchor him if he starts to drift apart like will secretly wants to. quietly, barely a sound at all, he asks, “ how are you? ”

what a stupid question he just asked ! he silently reprimands himself. how are you ? really ? how do you think ?

[byersarchives]

── .✦ starter for @eldestbyers.

will wakes up with a scream stuck in his throat.

it takes him more than a minute to figure out who he is ; his body trembles with the violence of his sobs, a trail of tears already branding his cheeks, blankets tangled between his legs, and he can't remember who he is.

this disorientation, this void where his entrails should be, petrify his alarmed instincts even more. if he were to reach for his insides to grasp for something warm, he worries his organs would already be rotting.

his sight darts around the room ─ enveloped in darkness and cold, only darkness and cold ─ and panic grips his chest again, until horrified eyes settle on his brother's face. jonathan. even losing himself, he will always recognize that face ─ seeing his eyes reflected in his brother, he reconciles who he really is ; not dead, not empty, just a frightened lost boy.

weeping with a relief that warms his bones, will lets go of his apprehensions ─ those voices that tell him he is too grown - up to ask for this, that normal people don't still seek the embrace of their older brothers, that he is weak, weak, weak ─ and runs to the haven of his brother's arms.

〝 i'm sorry. 〞 a pathetic whimper escapes his mouth before he can stop himself, another sob at hearing the state of his voice. how can he ask to be taken seriously if he is seen like this ? 〝 i'm sorry, jonathan. god ─ i'm so sorry. nightmare. it's nothing. 〞

[byersarchives]

── .✦ starter for @handspike / nancy .

his eyes still see red wherever they rest. on her hands, scrubbed pink, on her worn face. it isn't her blood, but it very well could be. he was sentencing her to death the moment his gaze turned to her, horrified warning, chest still breaking with the aftermath of his sobs.

the folly of his silence is still felt, even now. what can he say, after having witnessed the shattering of her home ─ the collapse of her heart ? after months of intruding her routine, every smile shared among family becomes a feature in mind as he tries to find any word to mutter.

but nothing is enough. deep within, will knows that for this family nothing will ever be enough again ─ no sound, no consolation, no gesture. from the moment holly was chosen, hunted, fate made its call ; the wrongness will follow them forever.

i'm sorry, he wants to say. or, maybe, i know. instead, when he opens his mouth, what comes out is ; 〝 i promise we'll find her. 〞

[byersarchives]

── .✦ starter for @nancewheelr .

this isn't his home, and yet every detail it's instilled into his marrow. years of laughter - filled battles as footsteps echoed through the corridors, breakfasts and dinners with discreet smiles as an instinctive routine every summer ; will could recognize every corner of this house with shielded eyes ─ and he has, he thinks, in some abstract time, far removed from this world. in dreams, although he cannot discern whether those count as something tangible.

a dream is what led him from the basement he now calls shelter, taking light steps so as not to wake his brother. abstract memories slipping from his grasp have him nervously alert, heart pounding against his chest so loudly he worries irrationally it'll wake the whole block, until he makes his way to the kitchen.

almost dropping the glass of water he grabbed to soothe his parched throat, he turns around with terrified eyes upon hearing footsteps behind him ... until catching sight of nancy, a ( * very loudly ) relieved sigh now leaving his dry lips. 〝 hi, there. 〞

[byersarchives]

── .✦ starter for @hawk1nshero .

another crawl tonight.

sight fluttering between the slow-passing clock and the hero of the night, teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he feels dread surging inside. it isn't him, fierce relief soaring at the certainty of it, ─ but rather a mess of worry and doubt that has his stomach in knots. nothing can happen to hopper, not now or ever ; another truth that it is felt within him. that would wound their mission, their cause, their family … that would destroy his mom, his brother, his sister.

once his mom walks away from his side, will's steps are hurried. concern radiating from him in small pulses, just a tiny hint of envy ( * not wanting to be in hopper's shoes, back there, but yearning to do something other than sit restlessly and wait ) for those with the eye to pick up on the details of his furrowed brow.

〝 hopper. 〞a barely perceived mumble, before disclosing his hand to show a slightly rusty but otherwise recognizable penny ── heads up. 〝 i found it at school today ; you'll need good luck more than i do. uh. come back in one piece, please. 〞