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Deep down he knew Mike didn't mean it, what he said. It's not my fault you don't like girls. He knew Mike. They'd been best friends for as long as he could remember (but whether or not they were still that, best friends, that was another story) and he knew Mike said things he didn't mean. Horrible, hurtful things. But Mike was always going to be Mike. He spoke without thinking.
While Will always thought without speaking.
And even though Mike didn't mean that (Will knew. He had to reassure himself Mike didn't mean it), it didn't make what he said any less cruel.
Especially when Will never felt comfortable coming out just yet.
Mike had to... go and ruin everything.
Or maybe you're being childish. Maybe you refuse to grow up.
Will... didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore, and thinking hurt. It always did hurt. But the only thing Will did, seemed to be overthink things, things that made him sad, breaking him down. He couldn't stop assuming the worst: the distance between him and his best friends would only grow wider, until they become strangers.
You're ruining our party.
That's not true.
Really? Where's Dustin right now? See? You don't know and you don't even care. And obviously he doesn't either, and I don't blame him. You're destroying everything, and for what? So you can swap spit with some stupid girl?!
El's not stupid. It's not my fault you don't like girls.
He heard Mike's voice, through the storm, clear in his head. It haunted, and it was hunting him down, no matter how fast Will ran. Tree branches and thorns scratched his skin, but Will kept running.
What did you think, really? That we were never gonna get girlfriends? We were just gonna sit in my basement all day and play games for the rest of our lives?
Yeah. I guess I did. I really did.
He tripped and fell, feeling sharp pain shaking through his legs when his knees harshly hit the cold, wet rock. It was probably bleeding, though Will stayed kneeling on the hard surface and let heavy raindrops pour onto his back. His body trembling each time he sobbed. (But if the coldness, too, played a part in how he shuddered, Will couldn't care less about that right now.)
Stupid, he thought, feeling his face heating up even though it was freezing cold. So stupid. To think things could stay the same.
Nothing would ever stay the same. His old life, Will had been stupidly naive enough to believe he could get it back after his mother and Hopper rescued him from the Upside Down, when he should have known his life — what he had with Mike — ended the second he disappeared, the moment he hid in that shed with a gun pointing at the closed door that was being unlocked by something from the other side of it. When the fluorescent bulb started flickering above his head and when he was taken, yanked by an unseen forced.
He may have come back from it alive, home again, but nothing was ever the same.
Will, still on his knees, lifted his head up after half a minute went by. He was soaking wet at this point, and he realized just now he didn't know where he was running to. Certainly he wasn't running from Mike, but as to where, exactly, he was heading, he never thought about it. Just wherever his legs would take him.
Wherever his legs took him. Will continued panting hard. Somehow — it must've been muscle memory — his legs took him to his Castle Byers.
Of fucking course.
The makeshift fort had been his safe place and his getaway ever since he was a child, so young. It was... his happy place. But right now, as Will looked at it through the rain and the tears in his eyes, he only saw... what he lost. The happy memories that hurt more than Mike's words.
He looked at it for a moment more, remembering and wishing he could forget the times he shared with Mike in this place, when they were so young, before his life split into Before and After. He used to be happy. He used to lay with Mike in that fort, laughing like nothing could take away their friendship.
He'd been stupid. So stupid.
Will rose on his feet then. His legs a little unsteady from the cuts on both his knees, and from how long he'd been running.
There was a baseball bat lying on the muddy ground, beside the fort. He approached it, picking it up. The bat was old. Will couldn't remember when the last time he swung it was, probably when he was trying to impress his dad — which was years ago before his disappearance — even if he knew the moment he held it for the very first time, sports weren't his thing.
He was holding it now, testing how it felt in his hand, before his gaze returned to the fort, the memories it held — the happy memories that felt like knives piercing through his heart and leaving him bleeding out on the floor.
There was a curtain, a silly makeshift entrance, there. Will yanked it open and raised his arm, ready to swing.
He stopped. The bat still in his grip when Will froze. Something, no, someone was in the fort, huddling there.
And while Will couldn't see his face clearly, because everything was so dark, he could tell his unexpected guest was more of a creature than a human: with skin covered in some sorts of dark vines, the dark vines which Will grew too accustomed to, the Upside Down vines. Except the vines seemed to be slithering beneath his skin, rather than covering it.
Whoever — or whatever — he was, though, he was as shocked as Will was.
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Getting attacked by his own servant, his own pet, was embarrassing to say the least. But what was more embarrassing, was the fact Henry knew, deep down, he should have known better than to wholeheartedly believe he could control those creatures, those dog-like creatures — he figured Eleven's friends called them Demodogs — to not consider the chances, that were actually decent, of at least one of them going rogue.
Henry took care of it, of course, but that didn't mean he got out of the attack completely unharmed, either. He was stupid, or maybe he was too confident, to think he could tame them.
He'd been overly confident about Eleven once, when he thought she was his friend, that she was like him and that she would understand. His being overly confident that time had rendered him to his defeat, the defeat which Henry was trying to convince himself that it needed to happen in order for him to discover the realm unspoiled by mankind — the Upside Down — and be able to transform from his human form into something stronger, a predator he was always born to be. A predator but for good. Because otherwise the reality of it, the reality in which he was betrayed by the only person he ever really trusted, cared for and loved, would break him down. And Henry couldn't have that.
What he was now was a monster. Or perhaps he'd always been a monster, and his current physical appearance was merely another proof of his being that: a monster.
A hurt one.
Henry held his breath when he looked down at his arm, where the Demodog had buried its teeth inside earlier. The rain was washing away his blood, though Henry was certain what else it was doing, was making it harder for him to stop bleeding. He needed to find a shelter.
His home, no, not a home, Henry didn't have that, never had — the house he used to stay with his parents and his sister could provide him the shelter he needed, shielding him from the storm and the cold. But it was far away, and the wound on his arm wasn't the only injury he sustained. There were others, too: one rather deep slash on his stomach, and another on his leg, both of which he got from the creature's claw. The wounds threatened to bring him down on his knees. So even if he could make it to Creel House by his mind, his physical body would still be here, in the storm.
And if another of those creatures found it — his physical body — when it was defenseless...
No, Henry needed to stay in his body, guarding it. The problem, was that he was in the woods, and finding a shelter was going to be... understandably difficult, especially when he was finding it harder and harder to stay upright, to not fall, as minutes went by.
He was bleeding and he was hurt, lost in the storm, the situation in which Henry was starting to realize he'd have to admit was dangerous.
This wasn't just 'one of those bad days' either. He was already injured, weak, and if he were to run into another Demodog that was ready to sink its teeth in his flesh, he might not be able to make it out alive this time.
Henry didn't realize he let out a sigh of relief when he found a makeshift fort of sorts. It wasn't big. Built from wood and tree branches. With a sign that read 'Castle Byers'.
Of course. The place was Will's. Henry knew the kid, even if the kid had no idea who he was. They were connected in a lot of ways. That string — their connection — that bond them together ever since the moment Will set foot in the Upside Down. The connection that ran deeper than the one Henry shared with Eleven.
Henry smiled a little. A soft huff escaped his mouth. This would have to do. He could spend the night here. And even if he knew the place would do nothing to shield him from a Demodog (or worse, a Demogorgon) if one were to find him and decide to treat him like a meal when he was weak, it was still better than being out in the open, a sitting duck.
Henry swayed a little, but he managed not to lose his balance when he stumbled inside. The fort didn't really do much at keeping out the rain, but Henry could find a spot where it was somewhat dry, with blankets and a pillow.
He would be fine here, at least for the rest of the night, as long as nothing bothered him.
Henry curled in on himself, pulling the blanket over his body. He was aware of how helpless, how pathetic he must be looking, like this. But at least, no one saw him here.
His being on his own was a blessing and a curse. A blessing, because he wouldn't want anybody to see him in his vulnerable state. And a curse, because there still was this part of him, the childish part inside Henry that refused to grow up, that wished someone were here to comfort him, telling him it was going to be okay.
Henry was certainly no stranger to being alone. He'd been alone his entire life. But right now he was hurt (and he was scared, no matter how hard he tried to bury that fear in his chest, kill it like he did his mother) he... wished someone were here.
This surely wasn't the first time he was hurt, and it absolutely wasn't the first time he was scared.
So it undoubtedly was not the first time Henry secretly, against how he was trying to convince himself he didn't need anyone, wished for someone to be here.
Lightning painted everything while for a split second. Someone yanked the curtain, the makeshift door, away. Someone with a baseball bat in his hand, raising high above his head, ready to swing.
He froze, and so did Henry.
The man, no, he was too young. Actually, Henry knew exactly who he was once he saw his face. This was Will Byers. Henry had been too occupied by his own matter, his being tackled to the ground by a Demodog, to keep up with what his little spy was up to in the last hour, but considered the fact Will was out here in the storm in the middle of the night, with his tear stained face and his cut knees (Henry took in Will's condition), it appeared Henry might not be the only one who'd had a crappy night here.
Will still hadn't moved. He seemed shocked, stunned to see him, which was... understandable. Will didn't know him, save for their connection that allowed Will to feel his presence in his head, and Henry's physical appearance was more of a creature than a human. So Will's shock was justified, Henry supposed.
What Will did know was that there were monsters from another dimension. Henry fit the category just fine, and he figured he should do something. Will had a bat, a weapon, while Henry... Henry realized with a wave of horror running down his spine when he tried to summon his powers, his injuries — no, whatever was in the creature's saliva when it bit him was weakening his powers. When Henry attempted to throw Will, or at least Will's bat, away with his telekinesis, Will didn't budge. The bat secured still in his hand. Henry's powers out of his reach.
Well, this... certainly wasn't just one bad night.
Maybe he was more fucked than he thought, after all.
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Will found himself paralyzed. He didn't know what 'too shocked to move' felt like until this very moment. His brain struggling to process what the hell was going on. Who or what the hell this thing in front of him was, because it couldn't be human.
Will had encountered monsters before. Upside Down creatures. They were bad. Savage beasts. And this... this thing huddling in his Castle Byers. Will didn't expect him to be nice.
When he was able to move again, before the creature in front of him could act, Will decided he was going to act first. He raised the bat higher. This time he was going to hit the target.
Will stopped for the second time, with the bat in his grip higher than it was seconds ago. He froze again.
Henry didn't mean to display a hint of weakness. But the moment Will was about to bash his skull with that bat, he flinched, closing his eyes and turning away. He was expecting the impact, but the pain never came. Or, at least the pain, that wasn't already there when the Demodog attacked, never came. Henry carefully reopened his eyes, allowing himself to breathe again (he didn't even realize he'd been holding his breath) when he was somewhat certain he wasn't going to get bludgeoned to death. At least not now.
Henry... didn't know what happened that stopped Will from finishing where the Demodog left off. But when he looked at Will again, what stared back was no longer utter surprise. He'd lowered his arm. There still was a sign of surprise in Will's eyes, but there was also something else in the way Will was looking back at him: pity.
Henry wasn't sure if it was any better than death.
"I was not expecting to see you, William," Henry said, eventually. He didn't mean to be the first to say something, but the truth was that he was starting to suffocate. That weight squeezing his lungs that only grew heavier each second the silence continued.
"You know my name?" Will sounded guarded. The surprise in his eyes returned, the shock. Good. Henry preferred it to the pity, but he had to keep reminding myself not to give Will a reason to kill him. He wasn't sure if Will could actually kill him, but he was injured and currently without his powers. So he wasn't going to fuck around and find out.
"I know you," he said, "better than anybody else does."
"You're him," Will breathed out the last word, after a pause. Though he was loosening his grip on the bat, Henry noticed. "You're him, right? I felt you. I've been feeling you in my head. All this time."
Henry made a sound from his throat. He was trying to smoothly and subtly prop himself up on his elbow, since sitting up was, he realized, not something he could do right now. Any movement, no matter how little, hurt. The pain started to become unbearable. Henry didn't need to look to know Will's blankets, the ones that weren't drenched by the rain, were soaked in his blood, and he was sure Will could see it even in the dark.
"You're hurt," Will added. He dropped the bat. And while that meant he wasn't going to bash Henry's skull in, it also meant Will knew Henry was not a threat. His not being a threat also meant he was harmless, and harmlessness equaled weakness.
Henry, for some reason, didn't say anything back. To deny would be an obvious lie, and to confirm what already was crystal clear would be to admit his own vulnerability.
Will approached him. It was a bold move, or maybe Henry was that pathetic that Will knew he couldn't hurt him. "What happened to you?" he asked.
"Perhaps I could ask you the same question."
"I'm not the one bleeding out in someone's childhood playground. What the hell happened to you?"
Henry wanted to snarl at him, though he was trying not to sound like a literal wounded, defenseless animal found in the woods. "Your friends called them Demodogs, I believe."
"I thought you were their master." Will didn't mean for it to come out as in insult. It sure felt like one.
Henry did end up snarling at him.
The snarl turned into a surprise grunt when Will heaved him up on his back, propping him against the makeshift wall behind. Henry remembered being manhandled; the distant memories of his time at the Lab. He thought he wouldn't go through that again when he became a monster. And certainly, being manhandled by a kid wasn't in his bucket list.
"You shouldn't be out here," he said, anything to distract himself from Will's wrapping the blanket around his torso, stopping the bleed.
"And should you?" Will torn apart another cloth, wrapping it around the wound on Henry's arm.
Will knew what he was doing, but that wasn't as surprising as the lack of hesitation from him, when he was helping Henry. If Will knew Henry had been the one inside his head, then he knew Henry wasn't... a good person.
"You'll regret this," Henry said, it sounded more like a warning than a threat.
"I'm not doing anything."
"You're helping me."
"Or maybe I've already had enough of a shitty night, and I wouldn't want someone dying on me added to the list of the crap I went through." It slipped, words leaving Will's mouth in a fast speed. Will hadn't meant to... overshare. He guessed he really was on the verge of losing it, if he hadn't already lost it.
"You know me," Will added, like he wished Henry wasn't too curious about 'the crap he went through' part. "I don't know you."
"You know enough," Henry said. Will was smart. He knew who Henry was, even if he didn't know his name.
"Yeah, that you're the son of a bitch who's been in my head ever since I came back from that hell. I don't know your name."
"Why do you care?"
"Because you've been in my mind uninvited all the time, and now you're bleeding out at my place uninvited. Don't you think the least I deserve to know is your freaking name?"
Henry looked at him, a hint of a snarl still on his face. He currently couldn't access his powers, and whether or not he wanted to admit, Will might be the only thing standing between him and death. He could lie, sure, but was there really a point?
"Henry," he said, after another moment went by.
"I have a feeling you weren't born like this, Henry."
"You are smart."
"And you're sweet talking me." Will shook his head, but he didn't seem that upset. Surprisingly enough, he seemed less upset than he'd been when he first saw Henry here.
"Or maybe you would prefer it, if I talked to you about whatever it is that's bothering you." Henry said, just because he needed to be a dick.
Will huffed out an air. He wrapped a piece of cloth around the cut on Henry's leg. "You've been bothering me the moment you decided to be in my head and refused to leave."
"I might have, but I am not the reason why you are out here in the storm in the middle of night, aren't I?" Henry finished his sentence with another surprised grunt when Will tied a knot above the cut, pulling at the slash. Will could have been gentle, more careful, Henry knew that. And he also knew Will was being suddenly harsher on purpose. Though maybe Henry did deserve that.
"That is none of your business," Will said.
It might very well be my business, if the Demodogs got you. Can't have a dead spy spying on what Eleven is up to. "It's not safe, not at night."
Will was busying tending to Henry's injuries, but he glanced up to meet his eyes then. "But you are out here, and it's night."
"Not safe for a child," Henry added.
"Sure," Will nodded. "Because it's obviously very safe for you. I mean you were just bleeding out alone when I got here, right? Would be totally safe if instead of me, it was one of those things who found you here like this."
"You're hurt too," Henry changed the subject.
"Just some scratches," Will said. "Nothing compare to what you got yourself into."
Henry groaned lowly. He had an urge to roll his eyes, but he figured doing so would make him more of a childish patient than an intimidating being.
"I must admit, I did not picture this to be the first time we actually met," he said.
"What did you have in mind then?" Will moved to sitting in front of Henry, keeping enough distance, after he was done bandaging him up.
Your friends dead by my feet. Hawkins burnt to ashes as I remade this world into something that is not so filthy. Maybe Henry might have to put that plan of his on hold for now, considering how he was being nursed by one of his very enemies.
And if his pride sustained far more severe injuries than his physical body did...
"You know that I can see it, right? That you... let me see." Will looked hesitant, but he said it anyway.
"And what is it that you see?"
"What you have in your mind. You know exactly what you let me see. You know we're connected, you and I, and you know I know."
"I suppose I do," Henry said. "What I don't know, is why you didn't run away."
"Because I'm not afraid of you. Especially not when you're helpless."
"I may be, but that does not give you a reason to help me. You did that. Why?"
"I told you," Will's voice was firm. "I wasn't looking forward to adding a man, or whatever you are, dying on me to the list of the crap I've been through in the past twenty-four hours — no, in the past years, after some... some demon or monster or whatever took me to that place, the Upside Down, and I'm sure you had something to do with it."
"You could not let a man die," Henry said. "Even after what he's done to you."
"Maybe that's what makes us different."
"Aren't you afraid? That you will regret not letting me die, when I gain back my strength and your friends lay dead by my feet."
"You don't know them."
"You seem confident."
"I am."
Henry smirked, a slight chuckle left his mouth. "That is the most dangerous part, William. You believe in someone without any doubt. They will only disappoint you. Stab you in the back after you gave them everything a friend could give. Your heart bare in their hands, trusting that they'll protect and cherish it, but instead they drove a stake through it, watching as it bleeds."
I saved you. Imagine what we could do together. We could reshape the world, remake it however we see fit... Join me.
No.
Eleven... Eleven said no. Henry's own scream the only thing he heard, with his back against the cold wall, his body disintegrated into particles and ashes. She said no and she killed him. That day.
"Henry?"
Henry... blinked. Will's voice pulled him back to reality, out of the prison that was his mind.
"I can feel your pain," Henry said. "He's hurt you."
Something flashed across Will's eyes, an emotion that wasn't completely foreign to Henry: the feeling of being forgotten, abandoned by someone you thought were your friends.
"He didn't hurt me," Will said, defensiveness in his voice.
"Wrong. I know you better than anybody else. You know that."
"He didn't mean it."
Henry tilted his head slightly to the side. "Why are you still defending him, William?"
"I'm not defending him. Mike is —" Will stopped, realizing his mistake. He shouldn't have... mentioned the name. He shouldn't have engaged in this conversation at all. Henry was an enemy. A threat. And Will was deliberately sheltering, nursing him back to health.
He wondered if he was betraying his friends, by helping Henry. He wondered... if the anger he felt towards Mike played a part in the reasons behind his sitting here and talking to Henry when he should've run, alerted Eleven and the rest of his friends.
Henry had been using him as a spy, and here Will was...
Maybe you don't deserve Mike, or El. Maybe you don't deserve the friends you have at all.
"I should go." Will backed away. A part of him almost expected Henry to try to stop him, holding him hostage. But Henry only watched. Maybe Henry was too weak to try anything. But there was a hint of loneliness in Henry's eyes, looking at Will. It mirrored the loneliness gnawing at Will's heart a little too perfectly. For a moment Will almost — just almost — let it slip and ask how long Henry had been on his own.
He didn't ask. Will only kept backing way, standing back up on his feet. Henry wasn't going to bleed out. Not anymore. Will was rather certain about it. He'd helped stop most of the bleeding. So Henry should be good. Out here alone.
As long as one of those things, that got him like this, doesn't find him and put him out of his misery.
Why do you care? Isn't that precisely what he deserves? After what he's done. What he puts you through.
Will offered Henry a hand. By the look on Henry's face, he was as surprised as Will was. "We shouldn't be out here," he said.
Henry just kept looking at him. Thousands of questions in his eyes. That he and Will were connected, did not mean Henry could always tell what Will had in mind, especially when the decision was something that was shocking to Will himself, as well.
"Henry," Will added, when Henry only kept on looking at Will's face and Will's hand that was in front of him. (All Henry had to do was take it.) "You trusted someone before, right? And in the end they hurt you."
Henry remained wordless, though the emotions in his eyes — the ones he tried to hide — were there, and it revealed what he would never say aloud.
"You can trust me," Will said.
"We are enemies," Henry pointed out.
"Maybe we are. But right now you're hurt, and I can help you." Only if you let me.
Henry continued looking at Will's face, then at his hand. Will never took back his hand.
"Where are we going?" he asked. There was doubt in his voice, sure, but there was also something else. It sounded like hope.
"Home," Will said. "You'll be safe there for the night. No one has to know."
Home.
Henry looked at Will for another short moment, then he took his hand.