SLEEPINESS STILL TORE AWAY AT ELI'S LIMBS when he finally stirred awake, the sensation of a cold rag pressed against his forehead making him squirm. "Eli, sweetheart? Are you okay?" Joyce's fingers pricked the cloth off his head gently, her caramel eyes offering a flicker of warmth.

"Um, I think so," he groaned, rubbing at his eyes in attempt to make the colored dots stop dancing in his vision. Most of the nausea seemed to have vanished, leaving him clueless and sprawled on the Byers's couch.

"You scared me," Mike commented, and Eli finally noticed him standing next to Joyce's keeled figure, hands swamped in his coat pockets.

"Sorry," he apologized quietly, but meaningfully, to the raven-haired boy, brushing his messy curls with a slow hand. "I don't know what happened," he admitted, the embarrassment resurfacing in his chest.

"I think you were just a little dehydrated, dear," Joyce informed him in that same honey-smooth voice, offering his a glass of iced water. "Drink up."

"Where's Will?" Eli asked after a few hesitant gulps, turning to Mike inquisitively. "Is he okay?" His eyes finally trained past the two figures to observe the cryptic, unexplained drawings of blue and black lines taped all over the walls. It was not the first time the Byers home had been decorated so frightfully, but it drew curiosity inside Eli anyway.

"He's in his room," Joyce answered for the boy, who still had concern ridden on his freckles. "He's not doing too well, I'm afraid."

The Brooks boy shuffled upwards, sitting straight and eyeing the woman pleadingly. "Can I see him?"

"You sure you're okay?" The woman pressed, watching him lift the glass upwards in another sip. "I don't need to call your father to come get you?"

"No," he refused with a stony expression, and he could sense Mike's similar discomfort. Now that he knew the truth, anyway. "No need. I just want to be here for Will."

"Okay," she conceded after a moment, offering him a tight-lipped smile and encouraging pat of his shoulder before retreating to the kitchen.

Eli let her go, his leg beginning to bounce anxiously as he sat there for a moment, letting the delirium from waking up settle down. "Are you okay?" It was Mike that broke the silence, stiffly taking a seat beside the keeled over brunet. "That didn't just seem like dehydration," he spoke meekly, his pale fingers pricking one another.

"I'm fine," he replied dismissively, attempting to gloss over the heat in his chest from Mike's apparent concern. "We should be worried about Will. Is he awake?" 

"Yeah, but—"

Eli didn't wait a second longer, hauling himself to his feet and tumbling down the narrow hallway. Will was perched restlessly on his bed, his eyes still dotted with tears and his sweatshirt swamped in sweat. He looked fragile, hunched over on his bed as though one small prick could make him explode into unending darkness.

"Hey Will," Eli tried softly, his socked feet shuffling into the room. An uneasiness clutched at his throat, and he realized he didn't have a clue what to say to his best friend. He couldn't stop picturing the Byers boy seizing on the vacant field, his eyes a vast array of white.

"Hey," his answer was scratchy, suggesting he had been crying for some time now.

The Brooks boy plopped onto the bed beside Will, watching as his anxious eyes skittered across the room in a blank, unfocused state. "How are you feeling?"

"Bad," Will replied with a shudder, almost like he was cold but Eli knew better than to wrap an arm around the boy's torso, possibly creating the terrifying feeling of entrapment. "Different."

"Different how?" Eli pushed gently, guilt still making his stomach burn squeamishly. Mike had taken it upon himself to slink about the disorganized room, his tired caramel eyes falling upon each drawing.

"Like...like something's inside of me?" Will's tone came off questionably, the pricking at his fingers growing as the uncertainty persisted. He was struggling to explain whatever shadows swirled deeply in his gut, but Eli waited with patience. "Like what I'm feeling doesn't belong to me. It belongs to him."

"Him? The shadow monster, you mean?"

"It's like I feel what he's feeling. See what he's seeing," his face had become an extra shade of stark white, the sweat slack on his face.

"Like in the Upside Down?" Mike perked up, his fingers brushing against the papers crawling the walls.

Will's gaze refused to look at either of the boys, lost to his own horrifying world. "Some of him is there. But some of him is here, too."

"Here how? Here in your home?" Eli didn't want to continue with his speculation, but the question burned brightly in his throat. "In you?"

Mike settled down beside them anxiously as Will let out a slow, stiff nod. "It's like he's reaching into Hawkins more and more," the Byers continued painfully. "And the more he spreads, the more...connected to him I feel."

"And the more you see these now-memories," Mike nodded in understanding.

An understanding Eli didn't grasp. "I'm sorry. Now-memories?"

"It's the only way I can explain my connection to him," Will elaborated, his nightly eyes actually drawing toward Eli. "Everything he feels and sees, I see it too, like a memory, only it's happening right now." His gaze fell away again. "At first I just felt it, in the back of my head. Like when you have a dream you can't remember unless you think really hard. But now I remember. I remember all the time."

Eli had fallen into silence, utterly stunned and rendered speechless from his friend's words. Normally he'd conjure up a logical explanation to everything, one he'd learn from a book. But no piece of literature has ever correctly stated his friend's situation.

Mike, however, had brightened with a small flash of optimism. "Maybe that's good."

"Good?" Will sniffled.

"Just think about it, Will. You're like a spy. A superspy. If you know what he's seeing and feeling, maybe you can find a way to stop him. Maybe...all this, is happening for a reason," the Wheeler insisted, his freckled features smooth with hope.

"You really think so?" Will asked, and Mike's answer was as positive and dutiful as before.

"Yeah, yeah I really do." The Wheeler's eyes flickered past Will towards Eli, almost in a silent question. What do you think?

Eli could only offer up a small smile, because truthfully, he didn't possess Mike's confidence. He had stepped foot into the Upside Down before, faced a ten foot tall Demogorgon, and later watched it take away a powerful stranger with a powerful mind. This wasn't some simple comic book with a linear plot, a finite conflict and resolution. It was something that was being scripted as they went, as Will and the others traveled further into this entangling mess. None of it was making sense to Eli, and honestly a faint sense of nausea still tugged on him, but he knew he didn't feel auspicious about it all.

Mike and Will were no longer looking at Eli or each other, but rather something sitting in a heap of blackness on the floor. A drawing of the shadow monster. It was the first time the Brooks boy was seeing it, and observing the way the monster's enormous legs towered over the trees and its head cradled itself in the clouds was enough to make him want to vomit.

"What if he figures out we're spying?" Will proposed, the bouncing in his leg worsening. "What if he spies back?"

"He won't," Mike denied the suggestion quickly.

"How do you know?"

The Wheeler's hand reached out like a flash of white, a bird soaring against the trees in autumn, until it landed on top of Will's like it was the nest. "We won't let him."

Even amongst all the panic, Eli still glanced down at their hands, a certain bitterness making his mouth turn sour, following by a heavier drag of shame.

"I should probably call my parents," he was quick to excuse himself, leaping to his feet with a small gesture to the door. "Make sure I can stay the night."

"Sure," Mike nodded, responding for the both of them. His hand had already fallen away, but Eli had seen enough to compare it to a certain similar picture. The one he had been perfecting over and over in his head ever since Halloween. Two hands.

Eli's mom answered the phone after three heavy, droning rings. "Hello?" Her voice was stretched thin, devoid of any emotion like normal. He knew she was probably donned in baggy clothes as always, desperate to get back to her isolated place in a heap of blankets on the couch.

Mrs. Brooks had always been a socially inept and aloof woman, far away from the genuine human connections and feelings. But the season's coldness seemed to have snapped away all and any of that last light in her, and worst of all, the Brooks family just watched her sink. Eli still didn't know the word to describe it.

"Mom? Where's Dad?"

"Not here," the emptiness in her tone was unsettling, and Eli felt the urge to end the conversation as rapidly as possible. Still, his father wasn't home? He hadn't returned home the night before either or the night before that, skipping out on what would've been a horrible punishing on Eli for sneaking into his office. How had his father become so distant? Or better yet, what was keeping him away from home?

Eli didn't have time to think about it. "Well, uh...I'm at Will's. Can I sleep over?"

"Sure you can, honey!" Even with the affirmation, there wasn't much of a change in her attitude, still entirely devoid. "Call if you need."

The conversation ended after a string of uncomfortable silence, his mother hanging up on him without another word. He stood their silently in the hallway, clutching the phone with uncertainty. Nevertheless, he dismissed his mother's odd behavior and trekked back to Will's room, preparing for an uneasy, troubled sleep.

And a troubled sleep it was. His nightmares were hazy patches of incoherent images, but he could remember the feeling of terror that struck him. It struck him so tumultuously he was frozen solid. He had dreams of monsters, of course. Dreams of death. Dreams of running away from barrels of guns and a fatherly, terrifying voice. His skin burned in the dream at one point, so hot his hairs were surely melting into the plastic folds.

Eli woke up with a jolt, and he realized his skin really was burning. He hadn't made that up. And he certainly hoped his mind wasn't making up the sight he saw when he lifted his sweat-drenched torso from his sleeping bag.

The blue fabric where his body had laid was now singed with black ash, entire holes burnt right through the sheet. It made a sickening crackle noise, similar to what he would hear on Sunday mornings when his mother flipped pancakes over on the stove. Along with the crackle there was a hum, a terrifying hum that only lasted a second or two, but sickening nonetheless. It was a type of hum Eli was sure he had heard before, but he didn't know where.

All Eli knew was that somehow, some way, he had burnt his sleeping bag in his sleep. And he didn't have a clue how.

The door swung open before Eli could form a hypothesis, and his panicked hands tossed his pillow over the blackened fabric holes. Mike glanced at him warily, concern ripening in those amber eyes once again when he saw the pools of sweat on Eli. "Eli? Are you okay?"

Eli felt sick. And not just because Mike was looking at him like that again, but because the heat wave hadn't passed and his entire stomach felt turned upside down. He was sure he was going to faint again, or vomit, or both. The Brooks boy plunged himself right past the curious Wheeler and into the bathroom, not even thinking to close the door.

So of course, Mike followed suit.

Eli was gripping the cold marble corners of the sink furiously as Mike padded inside, shutting the door behind him. Both boys were left alone in the dimly lit bathroom, only the morning light giving a slight glow through the window.

"Hey."

Eli could barely hear Mike, because he was suddenly heaving fast breaths over the sink, battling the awful tidal wave of nausea. He couldn't answer either.

"Eli, what's going on? Did you have a bad dream?"

That. That was a good enough excuse. And the nausea was already starting to fade away, giving Eli enough conscience to nod and confirm the false lie. He had been so sure he was going to pass out, or barf up all of his supper, but he didn't. And now that the hot flash had ended, he was simply a soaked boy standing wretchedly over a sink with his crush gawking at him. "I-I'm fine. Sorry."

"It's okay," Mike replied assuredly, but even his eyes narrowed with suspicion as Eli touched his sweaty locks of hair experimentally. "Will's out there right now with Mrs. Byers and Bob. They're trying to figure out what all those vines that Will drew mean. We think it's some sort of map."

Eli just nodded. It was all he could do. Not because he was sick with dizziness now but because he was sick with embarrassment. He could see how awful he looked in the mirror. Still, he was just glad Mike hadn't seen the strange mishap on his sleeping bag. He wouldn't even know where to begin to explain that, and he couldn't think of any theories with Mike standing this close.

"Hey, I know we still haven't...talked...about Halloween."

Oh God. Please no.

"I just, I just wanted to say..." Mike danced on the balls of his socked feet, choosing to glare at the fingers he was pricking at distractedly.

Eli was sure he was going to start sweating again from how hot it suddenly felt in there. He never considered himself an avid prayer, but his mind was suddenly pleading to God that this would stop before entire organs turned into a mesh of melted wax.

"I wanted to say that it's okay," Mike finally looked up, and Eli found the courage to turn away from the sink bowl and towards his freckled gaze. "I mean, it's okay...that you're...gay."

Eli never thought he would hear Mike say that word. Mike never thought he would say it either, until very recently.

"I know a lot of people probably tell you that it's wrong...to be gay, I mean." The nerves were apparent on Mike's expression, like planets in a winter sky. Eli wondered why, but he couldn't stop the pounding thrumming in his head. "But I don't think that. And it doesn't make me want to stop being your friend."

Friend. It felt like a nasty curse word in that moment, almost. Because it was exactly the kind of word Eli didn't want to hear from Mike.

The bathroom was still noticeably dark in the early light, and Eli finally noticed how close he was standing by the Wheeler. And if his mind hadn't told him any better, he would've imagined that Mike's dark speckled eyes weren't looking at Eli's but rather Eli's lips.

And Eli was suddenly thinking a lot more about the other thing that has happened on Halloween. Right after Mike had painted that purple lightning bolt on him.

Was he imagining it? Or was Mike really looking down at his lips? Was he also just conjuring the motion that Mike was leaning in? God, what was happening to him? His heart was beating louder than entire thunder strikes, his chest heavy and lumpy like firewood as he began to lean forward too.

Three raps at the door stopped them both however, the two boys audibly gasping and flinching as Joyce stood on the other side. "Boys? What are you doing in there? Come on out."

Mike opened the door steadily, Joyce peering at them both and then especially at Eli. "Eli sweetheart are you okay? You look like you're burning up."

"I-I'm fine, ma'am," he replied anxiously, his insides still humming with nerves from his almost-kiss(?) with Mike. (Had that really happened?) "I just had a bad dream that made me sick."

"Okay, well, you boys better get your shoes on. Bob's working on a map right now using the vines and we'll need your help so we can get there fast enough to save Hop."

Hopper?

Joyce was already gone, rushing back to the front of the house where her sickly pale son and confused boyfriend stood. But Mike had read Eli's mind, and glanced back at him reassuringly. "I'll explain everything later."

Eli padded back into Will's room, scooping his sneakers from the place he had neatly left them by his sleeping spot. He could see a faint glare of black rotted ash peeping out from under his pillow, and he made sure the spot was completely covered before leaving the room again.

Eli wasn't sure what Mike's explanation had meant in total, but he did know that measuring the distance between certain figures in Will's vine map was helping Bob convert it into a real map of Hawkins. Eli had only met Bob before now a handful of times, but he could tell the man was quite the comedic, yet analytical character. It wasn't much of a surprise Joyce had invested his brain into helping them crack the code of Will's vines.

"Amazing," Eli had admitted to himself, realizing his best friend had used only his now memories to chalk up a entire visual of the town. And a few hours later, Bob had drawn enough to finally determine a general location.

Wherever Hopper was, Bob's map had taken them to the outskirts of town, where large pumpkin fields littered the woodlands and signs of civilization were less rampant. The sun had already sunken completely into the ground once the Byers's car was on the road, wandering narrow country paths in attempts to find the spot.

A small disagreement broke out between Joyce and Bob, the panicking Byers woman shouting demands while Bob attempted to explain the scaling ratio of the maps. "There's nothing here," Mike grumbled in complaint, and even Eli had begun to grow unfamiliar with the land that surrounded them.

"Turn right," Will lurched forward in his seat with a sudden severity that caught everyone's attention.

Joyce peered at her son. "What?"

"I saw him."

"Where?" She demanded hurriedly, her eyes scouring the dark landscape past her window.

"Not here. In my now memories," Will explained in a rush, making the dread deepen in Eli's gut.

Bob, who had clearly been left out with some of the details, crinkled his nose at that in confusion. "In your what?"

"Turn right!"

The car swerved violently to the right, making Eli topple onto a fragile Will as Mike slammed into the Brooks' left flank. Everyone let out a series of alarmed screams as the yellow headlights revealed a stray sign and patch of hay bales right before the vehicle's fender rammed through both, making Joyce grip at the wheel in terror. As the specks of straw peeled from the windshield, Hopper's empty car abruptly came into view and Joyce managed to slam on the breaks just before they hit it, making all three boys thrash against the front seats with groans of protest.

It wasn't until the car and the chaos finally halted that Eli realized in the midst of such a terrifying almost-crash, he had somehow entangled his hand deeply into Mike's. Their fingers wound around one another's tightly, despite both boys shaking fervently.

Eli could sense Mike was staring at him in the darkness of the car, but he couldn't quite catch his gaze as he shifted his hand away and checked in on Will instead. He had never held anyone's hand like that before but there was no time to stop and think about it.

"Superspy," Mike breathed after another moment of horrific silence, inspiring Bob to speak up as well.

"What's Jim doing here?"

"Boys, I need you to stay in the car," Joyce turned back to address the three kids still quivering in the backseat.

"No, no, Mom, it's not safe," Will gripped the shoulder of Bob's seat.

"I know. That's why I need you to stay in here."

But of course the boys wouldn't listen, especially not after watching Joyce and Bob both disappear down the gooey opening in the large hole they found. All three of them clambered out of the car warily, each possessing their own set of dark circles under their eyes that reflected the genuine stress and exhaustion.

Eli turned to Will with a straggled breath after seeing the strange vines that unfurled around the dirt opening. "Can you see them?"

"In your now memories?" Mike clarified for him.

Will simply shook his head, and followed by the silence was a rattle of car engines in the distance. The boys watched with frozen shock as multiple white vans tumbled into the opening, and Eli knew before any of the vehicles stopped exactly where they were from.

The lab men approached the scene, donned in white hazmat suits that hid their faces. Eli considered for a moment that one of these men could be his father, but he knew better than that and shut down the idea almost instantly.

"Keep back," one man not wearing a hazmat suit but rather a white cap that resembled a captain's hat barked at them.

The army of hazmats were slinking down the hole right where Joyce and Bob had previously disappeared. All of them were armed with strange tube-like weapons in their grasp, and Eli almost thought about asking the captain-like man what was going on. But he remained quiet in between Mike and Will, watching the scene grow more crowded and urgent. He prayed for the second time that day, this time wishing that Joyce, Hopper, and Bob would all make it out safe.

But his prayer was cut short by the sound of a pained groan and a body falling to the floor. Eli didn't wait to crumble to the ground himself, his hands scouring the body of Will Byers as his friend began seizing in pain next to him. "Will! Will, are you alright?" He asked in horror, watching breathlessly the way his best friend's body shuddered uncontrollably in the dirt.

Eli had seen a seizure before. He was eight, and it was his third day at church camp over the summer. Ricky had been a small, fragile boy with bony knees and not many friends. The other boys had made fun of the way he looked and talked about a disease he had, one that made him looked like a demon had possessed him. Eli was the one that saw Ricky collapse behind the music room, entering a series of horrid tremors.

After that, he had learned how to handle a seizure. Putting the victim on their side, cradling their head, talking to them.

But nothing could prepare Eli for what he was witnessing now, and a cold panic paralyzed him as Will's body jerked from his side and onto his back. His eyelids were peeled all the way back and his pupils had rolled into the back of his head, letting only a sea of white glare at the night sky. His body seized more violently than Ricky's had, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was the boy's lips, which were curled back and his mouth was open an unnaturally large amount to let out abnormal, high-pitched screams that didn't belong to Will himself. At some point Eli had begun crying from the image of it, the tears dripping past his dirt-stained cheeks burning and salty as they hit the ground. His throat ached with sobs that he fought back, instead watching his friend helplessly and silently.

Eli couldn't remember anything else after that, at least not until they were back in the white and gray walls of Hawkins Lab that he had been in all too much before. But he swore, he knew, that the image of his friend seizing horrendously would never leave him.

Just like the way many other terrible tragedies would never leave him.

~

When Brandy finally answered the annoyingly persistent doorbell that morning, she didn't expect Dustin Henderson to be on the other side of it. "What do you want?" She demanded impatiently, her fingers tapping the side of the door.

"Is Eli here?"

Odd. Although her brother had become more acquainted with Will's nerdy set of friends, only Mike had been the one to start coming over for sleepovers and "play dates". She didn't expect Dustin Henderson to want anything to do with Eli without the others involved. "No. Why?"

Before the curly-headed kid could response, Eve was clambering down the stairs while finishing the last button on her top. "When are we leaving, Brandy?"

"Eve!" Dustin exclaimed, making the young Brooks twin nearly jump out of her skin at the bottom step. He noticed this and sent her a meek smile. "Sorry. Is Rene with you?"

"No," Eve answered, and assumed the same look of suspicion that shadowed her older sister. "Why do you want to know?"

"Look, I can't explain. Something urgent has happened and—"

The rumble of a car engine followed by the screeching of tires stopping made the Henderson boy jerk around, and all three of them watched as a car stopped in front of the Brooks home. Brandy knew the vehicle from anywhere, and the arms that cradled her chest grew taunt with annoyance. "Oh, great."

Steve Harrington emerged from the driver's seat, his hand gripping a bouquet of roses anxiously. Brandy let out a frustrated sigh through her open mouth, shoving past Dustin and stomping through the grassy lawn. "Flowers? Really? Who do you think I am, Harrington?"

Steve's mouth became a stammering mess as Brandy snatched the bouquet from him, glowering at the velvety petals. "Bran, look, I am so sorry—"

"Steve!" Dustin hollered, and the younger boy was jogging across the lawn towards the two teens hurriedly. "This is perfect. You can be our driver."

"Our what?" Brandy demanded right as the curly-headed boy roughly grabbed the bouquet of flowers from her. The Brooks girl didn't even bother to argue, which made Steve gape dumbly at the quick transaction.

"Henderson? What are you—"

"Look, there's no time to explain. Brandy can take shotgun while Eve and I ride in the back. You still have the bat right?" Dustin was already careening towards Steve's car, opening the back door without so much as a glance at Steve for permission.

"Hey! Bat, what bat?" Steve began running after him.

"The one with the nails. C'mon, Steve!"

"Hey, what the hell is happening?" Brandy demanded with a shout, and Eve had already fallen into her flank as the two sisters continued to glare at Dustin in a mixture of irritation and puzzlement.

"You two need to come with us," Dustin nodded at Steve, who was still trying to get his roses back as the boy dropped into the backseat and shut the door.

"I'm sorry, what? Look, me and my sister have somewhere we need to be—"

"It can wait." Dustin had rolled the window down and was now staring impatiently at the Brooks girls from the car. Steve was still standing in front of his car like an idiot, gawking at Dustin.

Who the hell did this kid think he was? Brandy scoffed. "Look, kid—"

"I'm serious!" He peered over both of his shoulders anxiously before leaning out the open window a little, whisper-yelling at them. "It's about the Upside Down!"

That certainly caught Brandy's attention, and she shifted on her feet with piqued interest. "And how do I know this isn't just a complete waste of time?"

"And that you're not being dramatic, in your usual Dustin fashion?" Eve butted in, the fierceness in her tone almost making Brandy want to high five her.

"I don't have time to explain, but it's serious! No one else is around and I need your help. Code red."

Truth be told, Brandy hated going to that lab. This morning would've made her second time going in one week. And that's two times too many. Perhaps there wasn't too much harm in putting it off a little, even if meant riding with the teenage boy she currently hated.

"Fine," Brandy caved, her feet dragging along the dewy grass as she found herself plopping into Steve's passenger seat. "But if this really is a waste of my time, you'll be paying for it, Henderson."

"Sure thing."

"And please get those God damn flowers out of my face!"