— William Byers

The garage smells of dust and dampness, as if the rain outside had found a way to seep in unnoticed. The door is ajar, letting in the constant sound of raindrops hitting the floor and ceiling—a sound that isn't loud, but doesn't disappear either. It lingers, filling the spaces where no one speaks.
Will stands still, arms tense at his sides, staring without really seeing. Mike talks, moves, responds with that ease that used to always include Will… but not anymore. Now everything seems to flow around him, without truly touching him. As if he were a step behind, out of sync, trapped in something the others have already left behind without noticing.
The campaign wasn't just a game. Not for him. It was a way to stay, to hold onto something that still had meaning. But in the way Mike responds, in how he changes the subject, in how everything ends up turning to other things… Will understands something he didn't want to accept.
They're not in the same place anymore. He presses his lips together, feeling that uncomfortable pressure in his chest, that mixture of anger and something deeper he doesn't know how to express without everything falling apart. It's not just that they ignore him. It's how they do it without noticing. How they leave him behind unintentionally… but it still hurts.
Mike looks at him as if he doesn't understand why this is so important, as if Will is exaggerating something that should be easy to let go of. And in that moment, something inside him finally gives way. He raises his gaze, holding it for barely a second longer than he can handle, his voice lower than he'd like… but firm in a way he can't hide.
—And all for what? To exchange saliva with a stupid girl?