Chapter Text
Will had always imagined these moments of self-reflection as somehow romantic. That wasn’t the case here. Theses moments were painful and excruciatingly scarring. Will had felt this epiphany when he’d realized that he was in love with Mike. And then again with Henry, first when he’d visited Will, another time when they’d kissed, and then, finally, now, when Will contemplated how quickly things had evolved. Too quickly, almost.
It was all too big and bright, the fire of their love. It had started as a spark but now was a wildfire gnawing even at the ocean. Flames had to feed on something, right? Before, they had run on Will’s despair and helplessness, but now they had no more fuel. Will didn’t want to choke the flames when they would eat him up. No. He needed—
It dawned on him at that moment.
He needed to save Max.
And don’t get him wrong, he wasn’t some kind of knight in shining armor. In fact, it was quite the contrary. He was broken and tired, so he just needed a reason to continue being with somebody who he didn’t deserve—or who didn’t deserve him.
He was being selfish by thinking that just because he could save Max then it was alright for him to be with Henry. It was selfish, so utterly selfish, but there was nothing else Will would be able to do which could alleviate his guilt. It was twisted, really, but that was the only thing which Will could take without feeling this crushing guilt.
In truth, he thought that if Henry could save Max, then he would be able to forgive Henry. If Will could somehow change Henry, if he could somehow make him save Max, then that meant that Henry could be forgiven. Right?
Max didn’t deserve everything the world had given her. An alcoholic step-father, a dead step-brother, a mother that was never there, an evil monster. She had done everything in her power to fight the creature that had been Vecna, unknowingly in her nightmares but in the end had died and only been revived—although some might say, unsuccessfully.
Truthfully, Will was able to do anything to alleviate his guilt. He would do anything to save Max. He’d be with Henry, be his trophy boyfriend, sleep with him, tell him everything, just for Max. You had to admit that the sacrifice was big and that if Will was willing to commit to it, then he must be a good person…
Right?
Will was long gone from the person he was before he met Henry, or Vecna for the matter. He was already too far from saving, but that didn’t mean that Max’s hope and life was. Since she had given everything for her survival and to save Hawkins, Will would return the favor to Max and get her out of that damn coma. Even if it cost him his life. Even if it cost him Henry. Because he was doing this to save Max.
***
“What a nice place for a second date, Henry,” Said Will as he took in the luxurious setting he had step foot in. Soft-scented candles burned while rose petals littered the ground in various shades of pink and purple. The patio was empty but the wind made the hanging LED lights flicker ever so slightly, filling the place with a mystical presence.
Upon seeing nobody else, Will turned to Henry and stared a him, incredulous. “Did you rent the patio out for our date?” Henry smiled and squeezed Will’s hand. “Yes. I thought that you might prefer some privacy. I hope I did not disappoint, Will.”
He let out a clear, delighted laugh. “Thank you, Henry. I…This is so beautiful!” He ran his hands through the lush petals, inhaling the scent of fresh flowers and wax. “But…” There was a bud of doubt in his mind. “How did you get the money to do this?”
Henry didn’t appear fazed as he replied. “I killed a banker,” He explained, as if he had just said something obvious. Will just gaped at him like a fish, until finally the blue-eyed man added, and not without a touch of humor in his voice: “I used my father’s inheritance.”
Will nodded, not wanting to step on this touchy subject (and he understood, really), and walked to the table near the balcony. He sat down, and motioned to Henry to sit in front of him. Will gazed beyond the street and admired the lush forest that spread far from his eye’s reach. The evening was tranquil and calm, just like Will liked it. He could almost get used to this. A server brought out some sweet drink that Will did not recognize, and then left the patio, closing the door behind him. Both of them were alone with each other and ready for it. Will watched Henry’s demeanor, slightly relaxing from the server’s exit, and noted the blond man’s attire. It was much like Will’s, casual but chic.
“To our second date,” Will said, bringing his glass up for a toast. There was a slight smile on Henry’s face, and then he raised his glass. They clinked their glasses, and then Will took a sip of whatever was inside it. Surprisingly, it was delicious. Sweet and a little sour, but not overwhelmingly so. There was also this bitter side to it and an almost melancholy aftertaste.
“This is pretty good!” Will exclaimed, happiness evident in his eyes, but not only from the drink, but from the possibility of sharing this drink. He watched from the rim of his cup as Henry rolled the drink in his mouth in a way that should not be attractive. His demeanor was collected but he did let Will catch glimpses of his love, and those little moments—and Will was living one right now—were precious.
Henry nodded, and both fell into the intense eye-fucking—sorry, staring—that had just started seconds ago. Will was sure that he could paint Henry’s eyes without having to look at them just by the sheer amount of time he spent losing himself in or fantasizing about them. They were deeply hypnotic and as changeable as the seas—you didn’t know when they were going to be creases of happiness or when a dark veil or anger was about to be put on.
Will continued to drink, comfortably diving in icy waters, perfectly fine with the not-silence of the rustling of leaves, clinking of lights, and the cry of tired birds. Will put down his glass, and then Henry broke contact with him, filling the air with a tangible panic.
Henry’s hand approached Will’s face steadily and his index finger traced the left part of his upper lip, taking off the remnant of the now-finished drink. Will’s heart was beating in its cage and a flush crept on his face. Henry seemed to enjoy that flush, smirking slightly.
When he took his hand back, Will passed his tongue on the finger and licked the digit slowly and torturously, making sure to clean it very vigorously. He felt a shudder pass through Henry, and the latter’s unfocused gaze. He continued to stare at Will with a burning intensity, which only made Will bolder, bold enough to say: “You’re staring, Henry.”
Henry’s gaze snapped to Will, and a shadow passed over his eyes. A soft growl came from his throat, and then he licked his lips seductively, watching as Will’s eyes flitted to the pink flesh. “You are so insolent, Byers,” He growled, although it was more halfway between a growl and a purr. “You must watch out what comes out of that mouth.”
Will snorted playfully, and then smirked, putting a hand under his chin. “Is that a threat, Henry? My, I didn’t know you were one to do such things. But if danger is what you’re looking for, then you’ve come at the right place. Folks say I’m lethal.”
“Oh, little beast. My wild one. I know well of your dangers. But is it not said that the most beautiful things are the most dangerous? If so, then I must be out of my mind. Every second near you is torture, every breath you take puts me on edge. Yet every second away carves my heart.”
Will let out a nervous and flattered laugh. “Well I didn’t expect that, but I suppose that it’ll have to do. After all, you are my knight in shining armor. What would I do without you, handsome savior? Perhaps you can rid me of these clothes! It seems they are attacking me!”
Before Henry could reply, the server came with a two steaming plates of stew and a basket of bread sticks. A delicious scent drifted under Will’s nose, to which his stomach growled audibly. The server left the room and then Will pounced on the food. He savored every bite, also taking the time to enjoy the view—both of the forest and Henry.
Both ate their stew in silence, and then when Will was finished, he took a breadstick. He smirked, knowing that he wasn’t the only one who was horny or with a dirty mind. He licked the breadstick its longitude, wet tongue passing languorously over the uneven material of the stick. He saw Henry’s eyes flicker for a moment, and then he looked straight (although not in the figurative sense) at Will, and then—
“Did you just throw a breadstick at me!?” Will all but squawked indignantly. “How dare you!” He took a breadstick from the basket, and then sent it at Henry. The latter flicked it off with his powers and it fell from the patio, lost to the bottomless pit of nothingness. “That’s not fair! You have powers!” At that, he threw another breadstick. This time, Henry deflected it with his hand, but a little too strong, so it landed on a car. Will and Henry both cracked up at the conductor’s confused face as she tried to wipe the breadstick off her windshield with her wipers.
Will whispered to Henry: “Hey, see if you can hit someone in the head!” He looked at Will, and replied: “The game is on.”
For the next ten minutes, they sent breadsticks flying at people, which was a disappointing waste of food but something immensely funny. In the end, Henry didn’t manage to put a breadstick that would stay in someone’s hair, but Will managed to put one in an old lady’s purse.
As they went for another breadstick to throw, there was none, and their hands met. There was a jolt of static, and then they stared at each other for a while before Will took Henry’s hand and intertwined them. “You’ve been so sweet, Henry. I’m so glad to have you by my side.”
“But…?” Henry tilted his head, encouraging Will to go one. God, he really knew Will. It was kind of scary once that you thought about it. They’d only known each other for, what, two weeks? Less than a month, at most, so the fact that he already knew Will so well as to discern that there was something he wasn’t saying from only the tug of his collar, well, it was impressive.
“I think you know that it’s about Max.” He looked up at Henry, face soft. “She’s…she’s nice. And she didn’t deserve it, Henry. Her life was tough, you know? And when she finally got the chance to be happy, or, or at least have a normal life, you…” Took it away from her, Will wanted to say, but couldn’t say it. “You didn’t…” Will was desperate. He looked at Henry for help, but the man could not offer anything. He sighed, then looked at Henry in the eyes. “Listen, I’m not trying for this to become a blaming party and all, but let’s face the fact. You killed Max.”
There was a silence, and then Henry replied flatly. “Yes.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really want to date you. But I can’t just forget about Max. She’s my friend, and it’s not like I can just ignore the fact that you chased her down, gave her nightmares, and broke her bones, Henry. You make me happy, that I won’t hide. But…” His eyes were clouded with pain and maybe tears as he tried to find the words. “I feel so guilty when I’m with you. I feel like I’m betraying my friends, betraying Max, Bob, Eddie, everyone who fought against you. And they’re my friends, I can’t just ignore them! But you’re my…my love interest and I want you to be my boyfriend. I don’t know what to do!” Will smiled weakly at Henry, who now sported an indiscernible expression. “Henry…the thing I’m trying to say is t-that I want to be your boyfriend—” And then Will looked at Henry, and started crying.
“Will…” Henry said his name and he was so kind. He reached out with an arm to Will, but the latter flinched, tears still falling rapidly from his eyes. “Oh, little one,” He said, pity in his voice, but not only. There was something like anger, but not at Will. Maybe it was at the world or at his friends. Maybe it was at himself.
“N-no!” Will cried out albeit weakly. “Why do you call me that? I get it that you l-love me, but wh-why,” He hiccuped and then continued. “Why do you continue? I’m hurting you, Henry, I’m using you! Don’t you get it? I don’t know what I want. Why do you do this?”
Henry sighed. “Will…I am bad at those things, but I’ll tell you,” His hand lay gently on Will’s hand, and then he continued: “I know that your…friends matter to you. But I find myself not caring. I know that you are doing this because you think that you can save Max. Yet I do not care.”
Finally, Will looked up, and wiped the tears. “‘M sorry if I keep crying. The thing is…I think you’re right. I’ll be yours,” And a determined look shone in his eyes. “I’ll show you that you can be a good person.” That you can save Max. “I think I’m ready, Henry.”
They kissed, and the taste of promise, and the burning sweet-scent of candled wax filled the air with spice, and filled both with a sweet wanting. And yet, what made this worse (or better) was that Will knew with certainty that he loved (or liked) Henry. But he would stop loving him once Max was better, because there was no other way. He couldn’t keep Max and Henry, even though both of them mattered so much. He simply could not, and as he felt Henry’s lips, he knew that one day he would have to let go.
And perhaps Henry knew that, because in that sweet, short moment, his eyes glistened ever so silently. Maybe it was disappointment, or maybe pain, but Will knew it was there. But he finally decided that he would be selfish. He would love Henry. He would leave Henry.
God, he loved Henry so much.
***
Will turned the page of the sketchbook (a new one, with less Mike in it), nibbling at his lip. The light of the noon’s zenith glared harshly at one his sketches of Henry, turning what had been nothing but a doodle into the figure of a silver god.
He was currently in the process of checking the proportions for a painting he did not want to get wrong. Normally, Will made paintings of his family only if they asked, and even then he didn’t spend so much time fretting over the small details. But just the fact that this was Henry (his very own… person?), was a little daunting. He knew he shouldn’t be doubting his own drawing skills, but hey, anxiety and self-doubt always showed up at the best moments.
“Yay, me,” he intoned sarcastically, before finally closing the sketchbook. The self-doubt would have to wait, because Henry was walking up to their secret spot with something in his hands.
“Will,” He said, with a small smile on his face. “I brought us snack.” He gestured to the package he held, a picnic basket by the looks of it. Will’s heart fluttered just a tiny bit. These small things always made him happy, especially considering that Henry was sort of his boyfriend. It still felt weird to say that aloud, even if it was in his head.
“Oh, that’s so sweet! Thanks, Henry.” He said, an easygoing smile on his face. He looked at the sunlight, absentmindedly picking through his drawing materials. He decided to use ink today, and to color the rest with watercolor. It would give the painting an ephemeral feel. It was also the medium he was the most familiar with. He wanted Henry’s first session to be perfect.
“So…how are we going to do this? Shall I be standing the whole time?” Henry asked.
Damn. Will had gotten so caught up in making it perfect that he hadn’t even brought a chair. “Uh, I guess you can…sit down by the tree?” He finished off uncertainly, regretting this more and more. “Um, Henry, I’m so sorry if—”
Henry smiled softly, amusement glinting in his eyes, “Please, I am only teasing. After all, is this not the way humans love each other? I believe your poets would say teasing is to love what mist is to water,” He punctuated this by brushing a hand against Will’s cheek. His blue eyes glistened happily and a breeze ruffled his hair.
There. That it was. He turned towards Henry with his pencil in hand, hastily stabilizing the easel and preparing his supplies. “Don’t move,” He said, and the blond man froze, turning back to his original position.
His pencil his the canvas methodically, Will repeating the same movements he had been doing since his childhood. The sketch made itself, the lines drawing themselves out of thin air, their metallic sheen almost pulling their glow from the sun, the edges and swirls slotting themselves perfectly against each other. It was a symphony.
There was nothing to be done as the painting wrought itself out of light and lead. There was only Will, the conduit of this sorcery, guiding the vivacious fervor that sprawled over the canvas. Henry was there, his watchful eye spying Will’s concentrated face, that smile everlasting on his lips. It was peaceful, Will thought, and even as he felt the sketch complete itself, he found himself unwilling to take out his watercolors.
He’d look gorgeous in the moonlight.
Once Will was done with the sketch, he got up and turned towards Henry, who took the opportunity to cross the divide (okay, a couple feet, he admitted to himself) and steal a kiss from his lips. They barely brushed each other before he returned to his position, his back nestling itself against the tree, in the same position it had been for the past thirty minutes. Will wanted to say that it was almost as if he’d become a part of the landscape.
Perhaps he should not have said that, because as he looked towards what was left of Hawkins, it was true. In the worst of ways, it was true. And it gnawed at his conscience like a beast who came back to its master once it had been beaten and bruised. Its teeth were dulled, yes, but that did not stop Will from noticing it. Sometimes the beast felt demonic, and other times it felt like Max’s grip on his hand.
He forcefully extricated himself from that train of thought. He’d do best not to distract himself from the piece of art (the painting, not the man) in front of him.
As he started dipping his brushes in water and paint, he felt some of the peace return. He colored the sunlight as it glinted against Henry’s hair, painted the blue lakes of tranquil waters he knew could just as easily become pits of death, colored the slight blush on his cheeks, painted someone to an extent he had rarely done so.
Because for the first time, he felt understood. Fully understood. No secrets, just brute and acerbic truth. It’s difficult, sometimes, and he imagines that in the future, when he finally decides to look at his conflicts with bravery, it will be even more, but now he doesn’t complain. It didn’t matter, he thought, all the ghosts howling and clawing at his skin. Even they would sleep, and in those moments, moments like these, when they slumbered, all harmless-looking, Will could let go.
A peace he’d imagined coming from death. Right here as he painted. Right here as he felt more alive than ever.
Eventually, he finished. Broad strokes of color turned into shades and highlights, seemingly random lines drew out a chest and a face, and scratches of crayon drew shadow and light, dancing around each other and content to live with each other.
He stared at the painting. It was one of the best works he’d done. He wasn’t one to overly praise his own work, and on the contrary he usually beat himself down. But in this case, the emotion, the want, the longing, the silent admiration, was almost tangible.
“It’s stunning,” said a voice behind him. Will jumped and blushed a little, and realize that he’d been simply staring at the painting for a while. But he was also basking in compliment. And maybe Henry’s presence. Okay, not maybe, definitely.
Putting his supplies away, Will sat down next to Henry under the tree. He had already prepared the spread and the food on the red and white napkin looked quite appetizing.
“So, are you just going to hang out here,” he gestured at his surroundings, “or do you have a place to stay?”
“I… do not. But why do you ask the question?” Henry asked, a dangerous glint forming in his eyes.
He turned towards Will, putting his hand on his and squeezing. Mere inches separated their faces. It was the closest they had been in public, this close to where Will lived. Where his friends and family lived.
Will turned his face, staring at the hills, and beyond that, the red smoke emanating from what remained of Hawkins. “I wonder what that’s going to become. All of it. Is it ever going to recover?” He looked at Henry, who stared at the ruined scenery.
“No,” And Will’s shoulders slumped. Henry noticed, and he passed a soothing hand along Will’s back. “The Upside Down infects everything it touches. The infection can be cured, staved off, and even eradicated, but lands are even more susceptible to its touch. I was there,” And his voice turned sad. “You start to lose yourself,” And he gestured to himself, his form flashing for a second, Will catching a glimpse of his monstrous form.
“And you don’t even realize it. If there was darkness in you before, the Upside Down will take over it and turn it into yourself. It is only in gaining more power,” And Will vividly remembered Chrissie’s dead body and the way her bones hung in all the wrong ways. “That you can get the upper hand. But eradicating the Upside Down? No. You can only close it off and hope that it goes somewhere else.”
He fell silent on that note. Will looked at him, and a part of him caught a glimpse of the child he used to be. One that was too curious for his own good and one whose darkness had been used up to the point that the man here was but a shell of who he was in the Upside Down. But Will didn’t mind. As much as this new love made him accept more things than he ever thought he would accept, Henry’s monstrosity was not something he could look over.
They sat there for a while, and then they bit into the food. There was a chicken, lettuce and mayonnaise sandwich and a side of warm, crunchy fries. Remembering their last date, they looked at each other with a blush. Will because of the rather exciting make out session, and Henry because of how Will looked that evening.
The sun rose to its zenith and then started to descend, taking the same path it had and would always take. Will knew that somehow, he would not mind being that sun if it meant that Henry would be somewhere at his side. If the world held no surprises, then maybe he could live with it with no fear of being hurt.
“Thank you, Henry. I loved this,” he said, leaning against him and, in the setting sun, he kissed him. It was a little risk he took, and his heart beat quickly as a result of this.
Henry tasted like sun dried tomatoes and lettuce, tasted like warmth and what Will wished home would taste for him, tasted like a tentative sweetness—tentative like this twisted and wrong thing they shared, tentative like the saint sins for the first time.
Henry was…an enigma. One Will wasn’t so sure he wanted to decode. It was not that he was particularly closed up, it was that he was a nest of vines twisting through a cemetery, warning all delvers—trespassers or mourners—that they were not welcome, his thorns ripping apart soft fabric and skin alike. And Will admired this darkness.
He admired it like man admires the sea, singing odes about its beauty and violence, wading into its frigid waters on dark evenings, unheeding of the rocks lined past the shores, choosing to watch one more time, just one more time, the curves and edges of waves shining like an obsidian blade.
He admired it like the repressed child admires the one wielding strength and the blade.
Will knew that it wasn’t necessarily healthy, but in moments like these, he was a sailor taken by a siren. He knew it. And perhaps that was why he chose to stay.
If he controlled this, then everything else didn’t matter.
***
Will had left. He’d packed his things after that sweet kiss and had gone back to his home. Henry stayed, eyeing Will as he disappeared off into a darkening world.
Henry would have wanted to follow Will home, but an…issue (a very annoying one at that) had taken his attention. More precisely, he had noticed that issue as he had said goodbye to Will. One that was currently stalking up to him with a frown on his face.
“Hello, Mike,” He said politely but with a slightly aggressive tone. “I noticed that you were watching us,” and that ‘us’ was something Henry didn’t think Mike would understand. Just like he could not understand Will. “Is there a reason?”
Mike seemed to jump, startled. “W-no!” He crossed his arms in a defensive position. Inside, Henry sneered in distaste. He really didn’t see what Will saw in him.
“Anyways, who are you and what are you doing with Will?”
Henry let out a soft scoff. “And why must you know? As far as I know, Will is allowed to have his own friends separate from your little… group.” And as far what Henry was doing with Will…he was sure that Mike would have a stroke at the mere thought of the both of them together.
Now, Henry was not the type to isolate Will. At least, he would not do it so obviously. But seeing Mike made jealousy, as illogical and impulsive as it was, rise in him. And so Henry had the desire, right here and right now, to tell Mike all the things he did to Will. It burned in him, it took over him. He so wanted to say, with a smirk on his lips:
“I tasted his lips before you ever could, Mike. I kissed him so hard his lips were red, his cheeks flushed and his hair all out of place. I ran my hands across his chest and left half moons on the soft skin of his hips. I bit his lips, taking blood and I will take my due.”
And Mike would stand there, shocked, afraid. And Henry would be filled with glee. It was not only about marking Will’s body. It was also about marking his presence, making him indubitably his.
Henry would continue, eyes dark and voice sinful.
“I will make him writhe under me, boy. I will make his scream so hard that only my name will ever leave his mouth. He will only think of me as I absolutely destroy him, inside and outside. And he will be so warm under me, so gentle and fearful, so needy. I will hurt him in a way he has never felt before, and he will remember it. I will leave scars on his body, and everyone will know he is mine. He will be utterly ruined and he will love it. He will ask for more, begging me to continue, to go harder. But he will not be a slut or my toy. He will be next to me, a sweet honey and a serpent altogether, an accessory to my glory just like I am his.”
But Henry did not say that. He smiled almost infuriatingly and tauntingly, daring Mike to continue. “If you care so much about Will, then perhaps you should know that while he forgives, he is not one to forget. And your recent actions…well, I don’t believe that they will be forgotten any time soon.”
Mike reeled, almost as him he had been hit, “He told you about that? But…it’s private…”
Henry tilted his head, almost uncaring and in a light voice, replied with a shrug, “Perhaps Will has finally decided what he values most in a friend. And perhaps he has decided that our friendship is worth more than what you held and chose to neglect,” he turned around, walking away with a saunter before glancing back. “But what would I know, right? I wouldn’t dare assume what Will wants or thinks. Nevertheless, it’s food for thought, no?”
And he walked away, just like that. The seeds of doubt were planted, and Henry intended to cultivate them, whether or not Will knew. After all, Mike was not someone important enough for Henry to care.
And we both know that we should stop
Because they’ll hunt you if they know
Because I don’t care if they burn
I’ll set them alight and you can tell me stop
—I’ll listen.
But you have to see them first
And they’ll be hidden deep underground,
My sweet honey and serpent altogether.