A/N – A little author's note; this story takes place after the third season. I kept Hopper alive, that was better for the story line. :) Happy reading!

. . .

He'd never wanted to move. Even when people were talking behind his back, even when they were calling him Zombie boy, even though he'd been very close to dying a few times – Hawkins had been his home. Sometimes it had felt like he was becoming alienated from his friends because two years of his life had been torn away, but at the moments they needed each other they'd all been there. Unconditionally.

Yet, he hadn't objected when his mom wanted to move. After being alone for such a long time, she had finally fallen in love again. With Bob. And although Bob had felt like an intruder in the beginning, Will had liked him eventually. But then Bob died. His mother's heart broke; he could still see the pain in her eyes, every day new wrinkles seem to conquer her face. She needed a new start, far away from the place where she'd almost lost a child, where her lover had been mauled by a monster.

How then could he complain about a lack of friends? He had nodded when his mom told him there would be nice people on his new school too, even though he didn't believe he would make friends. He was odd. People already had told him so before he was pronounced dead and came back to life. Things wouldn't be different here.

But he would overcome this. He had to. For her.

Luckily she was no longer alone. She was with Hopper now, since a couple of weeks. After the fight with the Mindflayer not much had been left of his house, and although their relationship had been new, he and El had moved in with them.

El – who had became his stepsister now. He liked El, and he liked having someone around who knew what he'd been through. Still, he found it hard to have her close the whole time, even when they both did their own thing.

Sharing a house with five people – he just needed to get used to it. And after everything that had happened, he got a headache often and he quickly felt like he was suffocating. Already during his first week he'd found a favorite spot in the woods surrounding Willowdale. It was a stone ruin of which two walls still stood upright. There were arches in it, reminding him of a castle. A with moss overgrown stairs led upwards, and from the top of it he could climb on the wall so he was sitting about 12 feet above the ground. That was where he liked to sit, his sketchbook in his lap. He could draw for hours. The ruins would change into a solid fortress, horses would trot across the pavement and captains shouted at their men because the enemy was on the way. A red glow in the distance announced the arrival of the Urg'pits; fire orcs setting everything on fire.

He missed plotting D&D campaigns. Even though he had decided that he was too old for those games, the images kept haunting him. Somehow they needed to leave his mind. Illustrating them was a solution, just like writing them down. Maybe he could write a book one day.

He took a green pencil from his pencil case and started to draw wood trolls who were conscripted by the good guys. If not, it would definitely be an unequal battle. Biting on his lip he continued to work on the scene, for a moment forgetting about everything. About the fact that he had to go to his new school tomorrow, the commotion at home, the nightmares that were haunting him...

A branch snapped. A nasty sensation glided down his neck.

He snapped his head to the side. Because of the wild movement he lost his balance. Briefly he caught a glance of a person wearing black, then his fingers grabbed for a hold. His sketchbook slipped off his lap, his pencil rolling away and falling down.

Fearful screaming he tried to find back his balance, but the wall on which he was sitting was too small. His heart pounded painfully in his chest when he fell. His hands clawed for the upper side of the wall, his fingernails scraping the rugged stone. Somehow he managed to swing down his legs so he wouldn't fall on his head.

Nevertheless he hit the ground so hard his legs collapsed. A gruesome pain flashed through his ankle and he cried out in pain. The rest of his body slammed against the forest floor as well. Groaning he kept lying on the ground. Stars danced before his eyes, his breathing stuck in his throat because the panic was struggling to get out. The pain – oh the damn pain!

Through a haze of tears he noticed that someone crouched down next to him. The person that startled him! Wiping his wet cheeks he sat up, still sobbing quietly.

"Where does it hurt?" a boy's voice sounded. For a brief moment the other touched his knee.

Will rubbed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. Then he looked up, right into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. They were an icy blue and belonged to a boy who was a couple of years older than him, probably around his brother's age. His face was pale and had an even complexion, his pitch black hair falling straight down halfway his jaw, his bangs combed to the right. In his ears he was wearing black buttons. He didn't exactly look like a an average teenager and with his black leather jacket and dark jeans he reminded him of a rockstar.

"My – my ankle," he stammered.

"Let me take a look."

Will was still a little bewildered that someone had shown up at this place, let alone that the person was so helpful. The boy rolled up his pant leg and started to untie his shoe. His fingers felt ice cold as he carefully touched Will's ankle.

"I think it's sprained. Can you stand?"

Will tried to get up, but the moment he put pressure on his foot the pain spread through his leg. Tears were stinging in his eyes. He felt ashamed for the fall and he stared at his knees. "I can't," he whispered.

What now? Should the boy warn an ambulance? Or should he just bite the bullet? The boy walked away from him. For a moment he thought he would abandon him, then Will realized he was gathering his drawings.

Will swallowed. Nervously he picked at a cut in his jeans. The boy reached out his bag and his drawings and sketchbook.

"You're really good at drawing."

Skittishly Will looked up, afraid the boy was mocking him. A blush spread across his cheeks when the boy didn't make an attempt to make fun of him. "Thank you," he muttered.

"I'm Onyx."

Onyx... It was a strange name, but somehow it fitted this boy who looked so different and cool.

"Will," he answered softly. He took his stuff from the boy and put it in his bag.

"Okay Will." Onyx crouched down next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder and giving him a firm squeeze. "Let's try to get you on your feet."

Will took a deep breath and nodded, knowing he couldn't stay here forever.

"Lean on me."

The leather of the jacket stuck to Will's clammy hand when he grabbed the boy's shoulder, trying to get up. He put no pressure on his hurt foot, but the moment his toe slightly touched the ground the pain flared up again. He whimpered. Even limping would hurt. Discouraged he sank back to the ground.

"I can't. Maybe – maybe the pain will go away later. I – I'll wait a little longer. You don't have to stay with me."

"It's getting dark soon. I'm not leaving you here." Onyx grabbed Will's backpack and swung it over his shoulder. "I'll carry you to my motorcycle."

Before Will could object, the boy shoved an arm underneath his knee pits, clutching another around his back and lifting him. Will felt his cheeks glow in shame. To keep himself from slipping away, he wrapped an arm around Onyx' neck.

Onyx was tall and had a slender built, yet carrying Will seemed easy for him. He didn't dare to look at the boy's face; instead he stared at his knees.

"You're from around?" Onyx asked.

Twigs snapped and leaves shifted underneath his boots. The way Onyx tried to put him at ease made him feel safe around this stranger. After everything he'd been through, he'd often longed for protecting arms.

Again, a pink tinge spread across his cheeks. What a stupid thought – this boy wasn't like Hopper. Onyx was only a few years older than him.

"I moved to Willowdale recently," he answered quietly, mainly to distract himself from the chaos in his head. For a moment his cheek rested against Onyx' shoulder; however when he became aware of it he quickly pulled his head to the side.

He almost told the boy he was from Hawkins but changed his mind just in time. His birthplace had been in the news a lot lately, he didn't want anyone to connect him to the events that took place there.

He raised his head a little. To his relief he saw they were nearing the road. A shiny black bike was waiting for them. Carefully Onyx put him down, Will immediately grasped the vehicle. Now his foot was hanging down again the pain worsened, but he was steadfast not to show his pain.

The boy handed him the helmet that had been dangling down the handlebar. With one foot still in the air, his balance was a joke and when he let go of the bike to put on his helmet, he almost fell.

"Here, lemme do it." Onyx took the helmet from him, placing it on his head. Skillfully he adjusted the straps, fastening them below Will's chin. His cold fingers slightly touched his skin, causing a strange feeling in Will's stomach.

Onyx returned Will's backpack to him, gestured for him to step back before swaying his leg over the bike.

"You ever been on a bike?"

He shook his head. It was so thrilling that the pain faded a bit. Slowly he climbed on the back of the Harley. One foot he placed steadily on the foot rest, the other with more caution.

"As long as you keep sitting up straight you'll be fine. Okay?"

Will nodded hesitantly when the boy looked over his shoulder, studying his face.

A smirk crossed Onyx's face. "Alright then! You want me to take you home or should I drop you at the ER?"

"No uhm – home is fine," he answered in a shaky voice. If the pain persisted, he could always visit a doctor later. He named his address.

"Okay." Onyx patted his knee. "Here we go."

The words had barely left his lips when the bike started to roar. Will placed his hands loosely on Onyx's sides, holding his breath.

After a few minutes he relaxed a bit. He dared to look around more and had to admit this was actually really cool. Adrenaline rushed through his veins and only when the bike pulled up in front of his house, he remembered his injury.

Carefully he slipped off the bike. It was only a few steps to the door, he would make it without help. A little awkwardly he looked at Onyx.

"Thank you," he said softly. His glance shot to the ice blue eyes of the boy. Will wasn't sure if it was because of the ride or the pain, but suddenly he felt a little nauseous.

"It was the least I could do. After all, I was the one startling you."

Right. What exactly had he been doing there anyway?

Before he could speak out the question – assuming he would have dared to do it in the first place – the rumbling of the bike flared up. Will limped backwards.

Onyx raised his hand, then he hit the gas and sped down the street. Will stared after him with a mixture of confusion and admiration. Only when he rounded a corner, he turned towards the door and limped towards it, wondering if he would ever see Onyx again.