deercountry inbox.

[lighthousekeeping]

"hi, this is joyce byers. i'm not here right now, but leave a message after the beep and i'll get right back to you."

[ text | voice | video | action ]

gifs from itsletalestrange.

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[lighthousekeeping]

[Oh, Will. Tears spring to Joyce's eyes, she shakes her head in response, and she tugs on his hand, to pull him into a hug.]

Oh, Will. Sweetie. [She hugs him tight for a moment, then lets go, leaning down to look him in the eyes.] Listen to me. What everyone else says about you, what everyone else says about the people you love—it doesn't matter, okay? Not to me. Things might get harder, but we've gone through harder, we've dealt with worse, together. And if, if anyone tries to bother you about loving a boy, you tell me, you tell Lucille, you tell Mike, you tell the people who love you, and we will rain so much hell on them.

[And she hugs him again, presses a gentle kiss to the very top of his head.]

You, on your own, you never made things worse. You always made things so much better, so much brighter. You are one of the best people I have ever known, you and Jonathan are going to grow into one of the best men I will ever know, and I love you so, so much. Nothing is going to change that. Ever.

[deadboywalking]

[Will lets out a quiet, swallowed-back sound that might be the beginnings of a sob, then presses his face into Joyce's shoulder. There's a knot of tension that's lived in the middle of his chest for years, and it's finally, finally starting to loosen. He's carried this secret for...a very long time.

And, almost without his consent, he blurts out the other things, the other terrible guilts he's kept hidden --] B-But it was my fault dad left and my fault Bob died a-and I killed you and I -- I-I -- [He breaks off in a hitching sound, pulling back and giving her a confused, helpless look, tears in his eyes.] I-I messed up so many things, Mom.

[lighthousekeeping]

What?

[Okay. Unpack Bob dying later, because that—that is not something Joyce wants to deal with, right now. If it's true, it's in the future, and she can change the future. Right now, though, her son is crying, and Joyce just squeezes his hand and shakes her head.]

Will, it wasn't your fault your father left, and Bob isn't dead yet, and I'm right here, okay? [She pulls his hand up so he can press it against her wrist.] See? Feel that. I'm right here, sweetie, I'm alive. That thing that possessed you couldn't keep me down.

None of that is on you, okay? None of it.

[deadboywalking]

[Will's breath is coming in quick, hitching gulps, and it takes him a moment to even recognize what she's doing. But then he feels the even, rhythmic beat of her pulse under his fingers, and he curls his hand around it, like it's going to fly away from him.

Then he looks up at her, eyes wide and damp.] It -- wasn't? [It sounds like the first time he's ever heard it, ever let himself think it. Maybe it is. Who knows how long he's carried those deep dark hateful thoughts.]