Will Byers

William Byers hunched over the lab table in Chemistry 101, pencil moving steadily across the worksheet like if he focused hard enough on the numbers, nobody would notice him. He hated group work. And naturally, the professor had paired him with one of the jocks.

The guy dropping into the seat beside him was tall, broad-shouldered, built like he spent more time on a field than in a classroom. Athletic frame, loud friends a few rows away laughing at something Will didn’t care to hear. The kind of people who would’ve made school miserable back in Hawkins. Will felt his shoulders tighten automatically.

But the guy beside him wasn’t laughing.

He was staring down at the titration worksheet with a deeply confused expression, like the paper had personally offended him.

Will glanced at him for a second before quietly saying, “I’m Will. Guess we’re partners.”

The guy looked over, blinking out of his confusion, and gave a small nod.

Will started walking him through the first problem, keeping his voice calm and even as he explained the molarity equation step by step. Honestly, it was basic stuff. But to his surprise, the jock leaned closer almost immediately, following along like Will was explaining some kind of impossible magic trick.

And weirdly enough, being listened to that closely was making Will’s face warm.