Chapter 5: Melvald's Encounter
POV: Adam
Five days since Will's disappearance, and Hawkins bleeds worry like a wound that won't close. Missing posters flutter from every telephone pole, their black-and-white smiles a constant reminder of what's been lost. Search parties move through the woods nightly, flashlight beams cutting desperate arcs through darkness that swallows their calls without echo.
Adam walks past another cluster of volunteers organizing outside the community center, their voices tight with the kind of exhaustion that comes from hoping too hard for too long. He keeps his head down, playing the part of the quiet orphan boy who doesn't want to intrude on other people's grief.
But every step toward Melvald's General Store is calculated.
Through the bond, Scout sends images from his position near the store—a woman with wild hair pacing the aisles, her movements sharp and fragmented like broken glass. Joyce Byers, Will's mother, buying supplies with the manic intensity of someone who refuses to accept defeat.
[TARGET IDENTIFIED: JOYCE BYERS]
[EMOTIONAL STATE: DESPERATE, DETERMINED, FRAGILE]
[RECOMMENDED APPROACH: COMPASSIONATE MANIPULATION]
[WARNING: SUBJECT IS HIGHLY VOLATILE]
The system's clinical assessment makes Adam's stomach turn. She's not a target. She's a mother whose world is falling apart.
But even as the thought forms, he can't deny the truth underneath—this meeting is strategic. Joyce Byers needs to know him, trust him, before the impossible becomes inevitable. When Will comes back changed, when the government comes calling, when the monsters emerge from the shadows, Adam needs to be close enough to matter.
I'm using her pain for position. But I'll save her son. That has to count for something.
The bell above Melvald's door chimes as Adam enters, and the smell of old linoleum and dust hits him like a memory. Every small-town store from his previous life had the same tired atmosphere—places where people bought necessities and gossiped about neighbors, where time moved slower and everyone knew everyone else's business.
Joyce stands in the hardware aisle, arms full of flashlight batteries. Her movements have the jerky urgency of someone running on caffeine and desperation, sleep-deprivation carved into the hollow spaces under her eyes. When she reaches for another package, her elbow catches a display of light bulbs.
The crash echoes through the store like gunshots. Glass scatters across the floor in a constellation of broken possibilities, and Joyce stares at the mess with the expression of someone watching their last hope shatter.
"Oh God. Oh, I'm so sorry, I—"
"It's okay," Adam says, dropping to his knees beside her before she can finish the apology. "Accidents happen."
He begins gathering the larger pieces of glass, careful not to cut himself on the sharp edges. Joyce kneels beside him, her hands shaking as she reaches for the fragments.
"I should pay for these. Hopper said the store would put it on the town's tab, but that's not fair to—"
"Hey." Adam's voice is gentle but firm. "Breathe. It's just light bulbs."
Up close, Joyce's grief is a physical presence. It radiates from her like heat from a fever, turning the air thick and hard to breathe. Her clothes hang loose on a frame that's lost weight it couldn't afford to lose, and her eyes dart constantly toward the windows as if expecting Will to walk past at any moment.
She looks like my mother did. After dad died, before the drinking started.
The memory hits without warning—Michael Thompson's mother standing in their kitchen at three in the morning, staring at a cold cup of coffee and whispering his father's name to the empty air. The same hollow desperation, the same refusal to accept what everyone else knew was true.
"I hope you find him, ma'am," Adam says quietly, meaning it with every fiber of his borrowed soul.
Joyce's hands go still. When she looks at him—really looks—Adam sees recognition flicker in her eyes. Not of who he is, but of what he represents. Another lost child in a world that seems determined to steal them away.
"You're the boy from St. Mary's," she says. "Sister Catherine mentioned you at the PTA meeting. Said you were adjusting well."
Of course she noticed. Hawkins is small enough that everyone knows everyone else's business.
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Adam."
Joyce's gaze takes in his secondhand clothes, the way his wrists stick out from sleeves that are too short, the careful politeness of a child who's learned not to expect much from adults. Something in her expression shifts—not pity, exactly, but recognition of a kindred spirit.
"I'm Joyce. Joyce Byers. Will's my..." Her voice catches. "Will's my youngest."
"I know. The kids at school talk about him. They all say he's really smart. And kind."
It's not manipulation, not entirely. Adam has heard the stories—how Will was the target of bullies precisely because he was different, gentle in a world that punished softness. How his friends protected him with the fierce loyalty that only exists between outcasts who've found their tribe.
"He is," Joyce whispers, and for a moment her face transforms. The grief recedes, replaced by a mother's pride that no amount of pain can touch. "He draws these incredible pictures, and he's so good at that game they play—Dragons and something—"
"Dungeons and Dragons," Adam supplies. "I play too. Dustin told me Will's cleric is legendary."
Joyce's smile is watery but genuine. "I don't understand any of it, but he loves it so much. Him and his friends, they're..." She swallows hard. "They're good kids. They deserve to have their friend back."
That's when Adam makes his choice. Not the calculated decision he'd planned, but something deeper and more dangerous.
"He's not dead," he says with absolute conviction.
The words hit Joyce like a physical blow. She rocks back on her heels, searching his face for the lie she expects to find there.
"How can you—"
"Real love doesn't break, even across distance," Adam continues, pulling the words from some place between Michael Thompson's memories and his own desperate hope. "Maybe he can feel you looking for him. Maybe that's what's keeping him strong."
It's manipulative. It's genuine. It's using Joyce's grief to position himself while speaking a truth that cuts through him like broken glass. Because somewhere in the space between dimensions, Will Byers is holding onto life by threads of stubbornness and the unshakeable knowledge that his mother will never stop searching.
Joyce's face crumples, then hardens into something that might be steel. "You're right. You're absolutely right. He's out there, and I'm going to find him."
She stands with new purpose, batteries clutched against her chest like armor. "Thank you. For helping with the mess, for..." She gestures helplessly. "For reminding me."
As Joyce moves toward the checkout counter, Adam lingers near the community bulletin board where foster care information shares space with lost pet notices and babysitting offers. He makes sure his longing is visible, obvious enough for anyone watching to notice a boy studying his options with the quiet desperation of someone running out of places to belong.
Bob Newby emerges from the stockroom carrying a box of extension cords, his RadioShack uniform neat despite the late hour. He's the kind of man who stays after closing to help organize supply runs, who offers his van for search parties without being asked, who sees the best in everyone even when the evidence suggests otherwise.
"Hey there," Bob says with the gentle enthusiasm that makes him impossible to dislike. "You're the new kid from St. Mary's, right? Adam?"
"Yes, sir."
"How are you settling in? Hawkins can be a tough place for newcomers, but we're good people once you get to know us."
Bob's eyes drift to the bulletin board, following Adam's gaze to the foster care pamphlets. Understanding dawns across his features—not the sharp calculation Adam had expected, but genuine concern.
"You know," Bob says carefully, "Joyce Byers is one of the best people I've ever met. Strong as steel, kind as they come. She's got a lot on her plate right now, but..." He glances toward the checkout counter where Joyce counts out exact change with shaking fingers. "Maybe you two should get to know each other better. When all this is over."
Seed planted. Just like that.
"Maybe," Adam says quietly. "She seems really nice."
Bob nods thoughtfully, then returns to his work. But Adam catches him watching Joyce with the expression of a man who's been looking for an excuse to help, who sees an opportunity to bring good people together when they need each other most.
[LONG-TERM QUEST INITIATED: FOUND FAMILY]
[JOYCE BYERS RELATIONSHIP: CURIOUS CONCERN (15%)]
[NEW ABILITY UNLOCKED: EMOTIONAL READING]
[PERCEPTION +1]
[SCOUT DISCOVERY: DIMENSIONAL RIFT NEAR MELVALD'S]
The system notifications scroll past as Adam helps Bob sweep up the remaining glass, but his attention is fixed on Joyce as she walks past the windows toward her car. She moves differently now—still fragile, still desperate, but with something harder underneath. The kind of determination that doesn't break under pressure.
Through the bond, Scout sends images of Joyce driving through the night, searching places she's already searched a dozen times. The creature has discovered something else too—a small rift in the fabric of reality, hidden in the alley behind the store where shadows gather thick enough to hide impossibilities.
The Upside Down is bleeding through. More than I expected.
As Adam walks back toward St. Mary's, the weight of what's coming settles on his shoulders like a physical presence. In three days, Will Byers will be found in that nightmare dimension, barely alive and forever changed. Joyce will face horrors that no mother should have to confront, and the comfortable lies that keep Hawkins functional will crumble into dust.
But tonight, sitting in Will's bedroom and remembering a strange boy's words about love transcending distance, Joyce Byers will find the strength to keep searching. She won't know that same boy commands creatures that guard her house from shadows, won't understand that her pain has become someone else's purpose.
I'm using her grief, but I'll save her son. That has to count for something.
Through the orphanage windows, Adam can see Sister Catherine waiting with worried questions about where he's been. Behind him, Hawkins sleeps uneasily, troubled by dreams of missing children and mothers who refuse to accept defeat.
And in the space between worlds, something ancient and hungry stirs toward wakefulness, drawn by the scent of fear and the promise of fresh prey.
+1 CHAPTER AFTER EVERY 3 REVIEWS
MORE POWER STONES == MORE CHAPTERS
To supporting Me in Pateron .
Love [ Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ]? Unlock More Chapters and Support the Story!
Dive deeper into the world of [ Stranger Things Demogorgon Tamer ] with exclusive access to 25+ chapters on my Patreon, you get more chapters if you ask for more (in few days), plus new fanfic every week! Your support starting at just $6/month helps me keep crafting the stories you love across epic universes like [ Game Of Throne ,MCU and Arrowverse, Breaking Bad , The Walking dead ,The Hobbit,Wednesday].
By joining, you're not just getting more chapters—you're helping me bring new worlds, twists, and adventures to life. Every pledge makes a huge difference!
👉 Join now at patreon.com/TheFinex5 and start reading today!