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Somehow, somewhere along the way, Wonderwall became Bill’s song. They were sophomores the year it came out and Bill took to the song. He told them that song felt like home, like a part of him, like the song resonated somewhere deep within him. After he first discovered it, he would stand up each time the song played over the radio or on one of his mixtapes, pulling up the closest or most willing loser to dance with him. It would usually be Bev or Mike, the only two – aside from Ben, who had two left feet – who wouldn’t protest.
The summer before junior year, Bill began to sing as he danced. He sang low and sweetly and it was a side of Bill no one outside the losers would ever see, as much as Stan and Richie begged Bill to try out for the school musical with them. He would sing softly to whoever danced with him when Wonderwall came on and suddenly, nobody protested him pulling them up to dance and, on occasion, Richie would jump up first just so Bill would sing for him, all the while making faces at the other losers.
Wonderwall, inexplicably, became a part of Bill, something the losers would never be able to detach from him, even if they couldn’t remember the sweet lionhearted boy. The song, every time it comes on, causes their chests to ache and their eyes to water because it means something to them, it means Bill, but they can’t place why this song is so important.
It is one of Patty Uris’ favourite songs, she often plays it in her slow days around the house while she and Stan do Sunday chores. For reasons Stan doesn’t understand, he always stops cleaning and finds Patty, often only in the other room and slowly and gracefully moves around the room with her, holding her close in a way that’s familiar, but not with her. He doesn’t know why this song, of all songs, gives him an urge to slowly dance with Patty or why it causes him so much bittersweet pain whenever it plays.
Whenever he hears the song, Eddie can’t help but break down into tears. His anxiety skyrockets and he’s often brought to the verge of a panic attack, but can never bring himself to turn it off. He only stops what he’s doing, closes his eyes as tears roll down his cheeks, holds himself tightly as his body shakes, and feels emotions he can’t explain. Myra will often shut it off, gently scolding him for listening to something that triggers him like that while wrapping him in her arms until his anxiety passes.
Beverly, in all her stoic nature, can never help the overwhelming emotions this song brings her. She has always been the kind of girl that songs don’t affect that much, they're only a comfort from the silence or a beat to dance to, but Wonderwall is different. Her college girlfriend, Ava, loved to play the song, often jokingly to everyone else’s amusement or annoyance. The first time Ava played it, Bev was brought to tears. She could never place it, but every time she heard the song, she couldn’t hear Ava’s voice, or Liam’s when the song came on the radio, but instead she heard a soft, deep voice she couldn’t place – Bill’s voice.
A comedian in Los Angeles, doing everything he can to make a name for himself and be remembered, he does everything he can to avoid showing emotions that aren’t fun, he hides himself and his emotions from the world, or does everything in his power to do so. Yet, when Wonderwall will play in a coffee shop while he’s on a date or on the radio in a store while he shops, his smile always drops by the first verse, Richie feels his chest hollow and his breath caught in throat. He feels the world around him stop for the duration of the song and he feels those fears of being forgotten eating at him because he’s forgotten something, but can’t place what or who.
Ben was driving the first time he heard it since high school, he’s driving and he’s taken by shock and he nearly crashes his car as he tries to keep his head on his shoulders long enough to pull off the road. The next few times, he’s with a woman he’s bringing, or has brought, home. He feels as if someone’s sucked the air from his lungs and he freezes, insisting she turn it off, but wracking his memory for clues as to why this particular song affects him so strongly when he’s sure, before that day in the car, he’d never heard it before.
Mike can’t stop himself, he freezes when he hears the opening guitar riff and insists on sitting down, closing his eyes and bowing his head, focusing his entire being on the song and on the lyrics. Despite focusing on the lyrics, despite knowing them by heart by the time he’s thirty-five, he can never sing them aloud, his voice stuck in his throat and he can’t place why.
Unlike the others, the song does not cause so much anguish for Bill, but instead remains a comfort, a home in the music. He always takes his wife’s hand, pulling her close and dancing in a grace he developed in high school. Often, he stops beforehand and gets vague memories of dancing with someone else: a boy taller than him and is so very warm, a girl who would laugh the whole time they danced and smelled of smoke and flowers. He welcomes the comfort of these vague memories, pulling Audra close to him and sometimes he cries and she always holds him tightly and whispers soft words of love to him afterwards.