Credit to MidnightEverlark for reading the first draft of this and alerting me to some really iffy/strange bits.

Do you want to be my friend?

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The morning of the day had been sunny and cloudless; the perfect start to an exciting new chapter of life. But you never know how a day will end by the way it starts, and that is especially true today. Now, a few hours later, it's still sunny, but the excitement and encouraging words of the morning have completely disappeared. Instead, there's an uncomfortable feeling Will doesn't like; that he doesn't even have a name for yet. Loneliness fits pretty well, though.

It's the first day of kindergarten, everyone is running around the playground, playing; and he sits somewhere in that chaos. The other children on the swing set have started a competition who can fly the highest, and the quiet boy is watching them from his seat on the fringes of the group as they try to outdo each other. He has a small stature and is very silent, so to them he is not really there; there are more exciting things to focus on at the moment. A small part of him - okay, a big part - wants to jump up, make himself look taller and join in; he knows he could win; he could fly higher than any of them. But the swing he is sitting on seems to have rooted him in place and won't let him go.

It's a windy day and he doesn't weigh much; he doesn't need to kick a lot to swing lightly. The wind is rushing in his ears, but not quite enough to drown out the clamouring children all around him. Everybody has something to say, wail, or shout about, like they are all boiling over with words that just have to get out. It is only normal.

Will Byers has tried that, too, but it didn't work for him. Whatever he tried to say would only come out all jumbled and be greeted by strange looks that made him uncomfortable. He didn't know what he was doing wrong, but clearly something about it wasn't right. So he just swings by himself, not saying a word anymore. At least nobody takes note of him.

There must be something wrong with me.

It's not the first time that thought has crossed his mind today. Ever since the girl with the pretty blonde hair turned away from him to play with someone else, ever since his excitement of being here got stuck in his throat. Mom promised that all children are nervous on their first day; but you wouldn't know it from looking at them now, Will thinks bitterly. How does everybody already have someone else they can play with? Literally everyone does, except him. Is it just that easy? Then what is wrong with him? These questions run on repeat in his mind as the swing takes him higher and higher. Now he can see over the fence and across the fields. Only a little higher and he could fly away. Maybe back home, or even further; if he tries really hard, he could maybe even leave the entire town behind.

The thought is incredibly tempting. But he promised mom to be here when she comes to pick him up. Will sniffs a little at the memory of how proud she looked. He kicks a little harder as he tries not to think about how long it is until then.

"Hey."

Will doesn't know what makes the voice stand out. He doesn't know what makes him turn his head. It's not the assumption that the small greeting was addressed to him; of course that's not the case. More likely someone is talking to another boy on the swings. But to his surprise he is suddenly met with a pair of dark eyes who look back at him. His rhythm falters and he almost loses his balance.

The eyes belong to a solemn face, which rests on a boy who is standing beside the swings. Will's feet scrape through the sand as he slowly comes to a halt. He doesn't know the boy, but then he doesn't know anybody. His eyes linger on the other's freckle-dusted cheeks; then on his hands, twisting and untwisting in a constant, hectic motion; before wandering back to the dark eyes that alternate between Will and the pavement. From his angle, the boy seems a lot taller than him.

A part of Will is instantly suspicious of this person who for some reason decided to talk to him. What does he want from me? is the first thought in his mind. But there's also a tiny corner of him that yearns too much for another friendly word like that first Hey; a part of him that can't manage to be afraid of these kind-looking features. A part that can't help but look at the other boy with hopeful curiosity.

The boy looks up to meet his eyes once again. If Will didn't know better, he'd think he was nervous, which is ridiculous. The boy swallows, and then he asks a question.

It's six simple words.

Will's eyes grow wide, sure he has misheard. Somehow there's a universe packed into these six words, and the sheer weight and expanse of it turns Will's own upside down. Did he...? Once again, his thoughts become jumbled, making it impossible to even think about a response. But his lips suddenly develop a mind of their own and refuse to stay shut: "Yes." The reply is rushed and breathless, not nearly enough to express everything that is tumbling about in his head. Will wants to disappear into the ground. He can't get anything right today.

But then it doesn't even matter, because the other boy's look of uncertainty slowly changes and turns into a tentative smile. It's crooked and lopsided, but in its simple honesty, it's like the sun has risen. Will takes it in in awe, unable to stop looking at this smile. After a few seconds, he realizes that this is probably a weird thing to do - yet again - and he quickly turns away, feeling his cheeks flush.

The boy doesn't seem to mind. If anything, his grin only becomes broader. He points at the swing next to Will: "Can I?"

Will nods hastily, scared that he could shatter this miracle that has just happened if he so much as blinks wrong. The miracle sits down next to him, positively beaming now. He starts to swing, kicking off the ground with sports shoes that look brand new. After a second Will follows with his own hand-me-downs, remembering how his muscles work. One swing later they are of a height, side by side. And within that one moment, it suddenly doesn't feel weird or miraculous or how did this happen? anymore, but just another boy sharing a swing set in a little competition. The taller of the two makes a sideways glance and laughs when he sees he's flown an inch higher than Will. Not a riling laugh, but a kind one. Challenging.

There's something warm and new suddenly fluttering in Will's chest, exciting and breath-taking, that he can't put a name to. Neither does he want to; there's more important things to do. He kicks out and propels himself forward. With his light weight he easily reaches the arc of the swing, leaving his companion a few feet below him. A cheerful yell reaches his ears, and he realizes only a second later that it was his own.

He barely hears the bell tolling; only when the playground is starting to empty does Will slowly come back to the real world. The flying reaches an abrupt end as both boys come to a halt. Will casts a quick look at his - he doesn't quite dare to think it yet, even now - before running after the others, afraid of being left behind. In the tide of excited children, Will soon loses sight of him.

The river of muttering voices and moving limbs empties into a great hall, where a number of adults are standing, waiting for them. The new arrivals are shoved to the front, right into the spotlight, and Will tries his best to take up as little space as possible. It feels like everybody in the room is looking at him. A small ache settles in his tummy, almost like the time he ate too many pancakes and mom had to take him to the doctor.

A small woman steps into the circle. She looks very important; with long, sweeping clothes and piercing looks as she introduces herself, and Will is instantly intimidated. He silently prays she doesn't look at him. Something like a smile appears on that face, somehow wedging itself between the hooknose and the pair of frowning lips, and she welcomes everyone. What she says is probably supposed to be friendly, but the row of small children in the front shrink even smaller whenever her unblinking eyes pass over them. It's the first time Will is glad for his small, inconspicuous stature, even though it doesn't really make him feel safe.

Then his nervous gaze finds the dark eyes across the circle, and he quickly holds on to them. They reflect his own nervousness right back. Perhaps that should have scared him even more, but something strange happens: somehow, seeing his friend - he said it! - nervous helps. It's more encouraging than all the It's going to be all right's and Show them who you are's he's gotten from mom and dad respectively.

When the headmistress dismisses them all with a curt nod, Will has heard barely half of what she said. Apparently the first day is all about getting to know each other without any actual teaching, though, which comes as a big relief. Will shudders when he thinks of whatever subject that woman teaches. After realizing they have been freed, the hall empties under an upsurge of noise, with everyone running right back outside, until only a handful of forlorn children remain, Will and the other boy included. In a sudden rush of unease, Will realizes that he doesn't even know his name

"Um, hi." he gets out, increasing his amount of spoken words to two. Small steps.

"Hey."

Will has no experience with this, but he knows they should probably be doing something, like everyone else who just stormed out the doors. How do you do this, though? Will bites his lip: the words are gone once again.

The other boy resolves it by moving first: "You want to…?" He gestures vaguely to the playground.

The freckled face looks just as unsure what to do, and paradoxically it once again relieves Will greatly. He nods eagerly. It doesn't seem to matter too much what he agreed to, he only knows he wants to.

The boy gives another radiant smile, and once again it is completely impossible not to return. Then he holds out his hand:

"Michael."

Before Will can even think twice, he's already taken it. Friends. There is the giddy feeling again, steadily tugging him into this strange and exciting newness, and he couldn't resist it even if he wanted to. Which is the last thing he wants now. Their fingers interlock like perfect puzzle pieces.

"William."