Chapter Text
Did you ever feel like the whole world was crumbling but that nothing was happening? That you were, by some strange curse, excluded from all that craziness? Well, Will felt that way.
It wasn’t really guilt. No, it couldn’t be guilt, because he hadn’t done anything wrong, right? Well, except from being responsible for Bob’s death, Max’s coma, everything. He was too weak, and he couldn’t fight Vecna off, even when said monster was in the form of a creepy demon.
Yeah, it was totally guilt. His friend was stuck in a coma and he was wallowing on self-despair over some stupid unrequited crush like a teenager who hadn’t been possessed twice. His town, where he had spent his entire childhood in, had been turned into some hellhole of the Upside Down. And now everyone was asking themselves, why Hawkins? And Will was asking himself, why Mike?
So yeah, you could say that Will was struggling. Struggling to fit in Anderson, the town right next to Hawkins in which most people had moved in. Struggling to act normal around Mike because he definitely did not feel love and pain each time he was around him. Struggling to push down the memories of his time in the Upside Down which had just resurfaced and which attacked him almost every night. Struggling to watch his town be destroyed and being unable to do a thing because he was simply a teen who couldn’t even help himself, so how could he help others, a whole town?
Today was no different as he woke up with a sense of guilt and uselessness. He recognized that all other members of the group had something to bring, everyone except him. Mike was the heart, Dustin was the brains, Lucas was the sound mind, Max was the pessimist, Robin was the optimist, Nancy was the strategist, Steve was the muscle, Erica was the sarcasm and Jonathan was the shoulder to cry on. And Will? Will was the victim, the useless, the liability. The weakest.
So he tried to cover up this shame just for today, knowing that tomorrow would be the same. As he exited his room, he heard the noises of an active house.
“Hey Will,” Hopper said, not looking up from his newspaper. Ever since he came back from Russia, he and Joyce had been inseparable. Well, they had moved in. And it was immensely awkward for Will to be around the guy his mom was sleeping with, especially when he had been scarred to life. However, the smile on the former police officer’s lips made Will happier, even if it was only a little.
“Hi Hopper,” Will replied, sitting next to him and serving himself from the plate of scrambled eggs. “How was your date?” He enquired, trying to figure out if his mom and Hopper had done anything else than what they had said they would do.
“Very good Will,” Joyce said pointedly, knowing what her son was trying to do. “Why don’t you go prepare your painting things? Weren’t you supposed to go out to paint a landscape?”
Indeed, Will was supposed to go paint a landscape for his high school art portfolio. Well, not just any landscape. He had chosen to paint Hawkins, just that no one knew that. They would say that it was too dangerous, that something could happen to him, but in truth, he did not care. There was something about that place that drew him in, something dark and dangerous that he could not ignore. Every night it called him, most of the times as a Demigorgon who wanted to eat him. Nevertheless, he wanted to see what the place could bring, and most importantly, if it would kill him, if it recognized his weakness. If he really was the weakest.
“Yup. But tell me,” He looked to Hopper. “When are you going to move in?”
There was a silence as Joyce and Hopper stared at each other. Will tilted his head quizzically, eyes flitting between the adults. His mom smiled gently before looking at him, unimpressed. “Will, darling, let the adults talk.”
“But—” Will protested weakly.
“No buts, Will. Anyways, it won’t bother you, will it?” She raised her eyebrow in a way that reminded Will of Spock.
“No, but—” He stopped himself just in time before continuing calmly. “Jonathan knows, and he was stoned for practically half of last year! How can he be an adult?”
“Shouldn’t you be going, Will? I heard it’s maybe going to rain so you better catch that landscape while it’s still dry.” Hopper. That traitor.
Will rolled his eyes but got up, put his plate and fork in the dishwasher, a smile on his lips. Even if the whole world was crumbling, he could count on this banter to raise his spirits. He quickly got ready and packed his brushes, paints, stand, and canvas. Just before he went out of the door, Jonathan appeared, suddenly risen from the limbo called sleep.
“Will!”
He turned around, surprised to see his brother awake at such an ‘ungodly hour’, as he had called it several times. He tilted his head questioningly, not focusing on the very obvious marks on his brother’s neck but still noticing them. Huh, he didn’t think Nancy would have…unless Jonathan was seeing somebody else… He shook his head mentally, wanting to stay focused on his expedition.
“I wanted to tell you… Just be safe, alright?” Jonathan smiled genuinely and made a move to hug his brother. Will stayed in his brother’s embrace for a while until it became awkward.
Will was waved off by him and greeted by a light summer breeze. His pleated shirt was cold against his skin and the sun felt nice on his face. He walked slowly, carrying his materials carefully so as not to damage them. His mind drifted off as his walk became steady and appeasing.
The past few weeks following the destruction of Hawkins and Max’s sort of death had been hard for the group. Everyone mourned, each different people but all mourned what had been lost to Vecna. Eddie had died. Hawkins had fallen. Max had gone into a coma. Brenner had died. Lucas was probably struggling the most with grief, followed by Dustin. Will supposed that if he and Eddie had been friends, he probably would have been crying. However, Will wasn’t Eddie’s friend, and he wasn’t that close to Max, so he had no reason to feel that crushing guilt and grief, right?
He regretted not knowing Max because she had saved his life along with the rest of the group and she didn’t ask anything in return. Will should have known her better. He should have knew her like he knew the others. But he was too busy being possessed, being responsible for other people’s deaths to properly know her. And now he felt like an alien to the group. He had no nice anecdotes or actual interactions with her to share with the group.
However, when he looked at her, he felt immense sadness. Her life and time had been robbed, and instead of joking with her friends, she was in a hospital bed. Sometimes, he wished that he could take her place so that he didn’t have to live this lie, so that he didn’t have to pretend that he wasn’t hurting. He didn’t necessarily want to bring grief to his family but he knew that by staying and living, he would bring more grief. Call him pessimistic or fatalistic, he just knew it.
He deserved it. It being this guilt, shame, embarrassment, grief. This self-loathing that was so very justified. He was a mistake, and even Jonathan couldn’t help with that. He was too weak and unstable for this life. Maybe if he fell asleep and never woke up—
No. He deserved to suffer. Because he was a mistake. Trash. Queer. Idiot. Different. Fag. Monster. No son of mine, no son of mine is ever gonna be a queer! Friends don’t lie. It’s not my fault you don’t like girls! Will, Will, your father’s not breathing, call the cops, oh god, oh god,Will! What reason have I to live for if my son is a fucking fag? Stop it Will, where are you!? All happy and gay. Will Will what are you doing oh god what is happening someone call an ambulance why is he attacking us what are those drawings you deserve it die just die.
“Will!” A shout pulled him out of his spiral. He was almost glad for it until he looked who it was. El.
Normally he wouldn’t have a problem since they were practically inseparable but Mike was with her. And oh boy did Will have issues with Mike. You see, Will was completely smitten and in love with Mike. He loved his face, hair, body, smile, voice, everything. He’s said Mike was the Heart of the group, but for Will, Mike was his heart. And, well, that caused more than a few problems.
“E-El!” Will stuttered nervously, unconsciously licking his lips. “Um, what are you doing here?”
She smiled brightly, happy to see her best friend. “I wanted to see you, Will. And Mike wanted to come with me.”
Hold on—what? Mike wanted to see Will? Did that mean…that perhaps Will was not hopeless? That perhaps there was a chance to his feelings being reciprocated?
No, no, what was he thinking? Mike was straight, end of story. And Mike was with El. And Mike was Will’s best friend, and he just wanted to see him. As best friends. And Mike wanted to follow El because they are very much in love.
The mere idea that Mike might want to see him raised his hopes but sounded like something that would never happen. Realistically, even if Mike liked Will, it would never work out. It never did for people like Will. It was only heartbreak after heartbreak until you got lynched by a mob of homophobic, cisgender, white men. Oh, and probably racist and sexist.
It totally did not sound like Will’s father.
“Um, I… Thanks!” He trailed off nervously, looking away and scratching the back of his neck.
“Where are you going?” Asked Mike, to which Will turned his head so swiftly to he was sure he would get arthritis if he spent five more years near Mike. And heartbreak.
“I’m going… to paint” He said lamely, feeling stupid while gesturing to his obvious painting materials.
“Cool,” Replied Mike, actually sounding interested. “Which landscape is next?”
Will’s heart did a double flip. Over the long car ride to find El, the two of them had talked about many things, and Will had talked about his portfolio. There was nothing strange about that. The fact, however, that Mike remembered that one fact through all the madness of Vecna and the Upside Down, was heartwarming.
“Uh, well..” Here, he debated on whether he should tell Mike (and El) the truth or just lie. “I…can’t tell you. It’s actually a surprise, so…It would ruin the whole thing if I told you, right?” He laughed nervously, silently praying (to whom, he wondered, since the God he’d been taught was above hated people like him) that they would let it drop.
El looked like she was about to say something when Mike interrupted her: “Ok, sure. Have a great time! El and I are going to the arcade. See you!” He looked at El with such fond adoration that it broke Will’s heart (which shouldn’t have been possible since his heart was already in tatters) into a million, glistening, sharp pieces.
But he already had so much practice and the fake smile came as easily as his reply: “Have fun, lovebirds! And don’t forget to use protection!” He shouted as both of them grew smaller. He heard Mike’s embarrassed “Willllll!” and El’s quizzical “What is protection?”, to which (Will imagined) Mike became even more blushing, soon reaching a delightful shade of pink. Once they were out of sight, he leaned against a tree and sighed. He should be happy for them, and he was, truly, but he couldn’t shake of the jealousy and envy that invaded him.
They were so happy, and rightfully so. They had each other and had gone through, well, basically hell to be together. They had saved each other’s lives and had bonded over it. They shared a bond that most couples did not have. The two were a great match, and Will, even in his own despair, would never want them to break up. Never. Because that would mean that both of them were hurting. Especially Mike. And Will could not bear to see Mike hurt. He also cared about El and seeing her hurt would and already had broken his heart. So even if he had to suffer, their happiness was key.
However, he still found himself longing for Mike. It was like a guilty pleasure. He would find himself sketching his sharp cheekbones and imagining what it would be like to kiss those pale lips, putting his hands around that neck, roaming his body, feeling his hot breath against his ear, hearing Mike say ‘I love you’, marking Mike so that everyone would know he was his—god, Will was just too horny. He really hoped that Mike never discovered Will’s sketchbook, or anyone else for that matter. It was filled with exposing sketches of Mike. Well, what Will imagined Mike would look like if he undr—
Never mind. Will was simply way too interested in Mike to look at him with a straight face, and whether he was assaulted with lust, love, envy, longing, or heartbreak, did not matter, because they all made him act like a fool. Will Byers, the fool. Well, he thought it suited him well, at least better than Will Byers the fag.
Then, Will saw Hawkins, and this time, he really was pulled out of his daze. Because how Hawkins had changed so much in such little time was unbelievable. But then the whole concept of the Upside Down was unbelievable.
There was a border, and beyond that border, the flaky particles so telling of that hellish dimension floated without ever crossing into the untouched land. Beyond the border, there was a sky red with an evil and feverish sun as well as pillars of smoke which stood unmoving. The trees had lost all leaves and were now scarecrows in a field of darkness, surrounding the empty palaces that used to be homes but were now inhabited by hordes of bats and Demigorgons. The chasms which had ruptured Hawkins exactly twenty six days ago still glowed red. Only, the vines surrounding it had spread like an infection, and if it were not for the blue sky, faintly and feebly announcing its presence, one would have thought that they were in the Upside Down. However, Will knew, simply by his past brush and connection with the Mind Flayer that soon, there would be no trace of that blue drape in Hawkins’ sky.
It was ugly. So many lives lost, so much hope destroyed, so much darkness released. There was no end to Hawkins’ plight, it seemed. Something dark had chosen and coveted this place, grooming and growing this town just to find the perfect victim to start the plan which would lead to the apocalypse, the annihilation of the world. Starting first with a sleepy town in Indiana.
But when Will looked at it, he didn’t think it was all that ugly. The worlds humans lived in was, in a way, no different. The strong preyed on the weak. The strong ate the weak. The weak died while the strong flourished. Life was an everlasting night punctuated by sudden short bursts of light. And in the end, night reigned in the human heart.
Humans preyed on animals even if they were animals themselves. How could they call Demigorgons monsters when all they did was feed? Sure, it wasn’t like they could become vegetarian, but it wasn’t like humans could go on without killing. Even the kindest people did some bad, even if unintentionally. He couldn’t blame others for his mistakes. He had to accept that he was responsible for death. He had to accept that perhaps he didn’t belong in this twisted human world of irony and hypocrisy.
There was a certain beauty to it, the floating particles like lost souls on a never ending journey to peace and the monsters prowling like guardians protecting their only sanctuary and the sanctity of the land, be it a dark one. Will did not mind that flesh eating creatures were just beyond. Instead, he found a certain peace in the knowledge that they were not alone, accompanied by Vecna, their own kin, and the eternal darkness surrounding them. Even what people called monsters had a heart, and that was the most important thing of all. He did not care whether they had killed, because it was in their nature; they could not do anything about it. And in the world of humans, they were shunned, treated as outcasts, mistakes, even if they could not do anything about their situation. It was who they were! And who was Will to treat them as monsters when both of them received so much prejudice?
And so Will painted. His strokes burned like fire through a universe of cold, dead dwarves. Each red swish was like blood from his bleeding, open heart, and sprinkled throughout was pain. Each white speck was in memory of his mistakes and regrets, each white speck was a spear in the soul, a reminder of his imperfections, of what he was, of his suffering, of his father, of Mike. Each color mixed brought tears to his eyes, the hues blending together to create new memories, erasing his childhood. Each detail added was magnificent in the image of a fallen world inhabited by a fallen angel. Even though his emotions were jumbled and Will was seeing his memories over and over again, his hand was steady. It did not falter while the rest of his being was shaking to the core. His hands were the only thing steady, and the art he created was horrible.
Horribly gorgeous. It was him admiring a fallen world and a call for someone to save him. From what exactly, he did not know. He simply knew that he was broken and that the cracks were spreading like spider webs: they only multiplied. Soon, the facade would be so shattered that Will would be looking though broken glass, seeing a broken dimension. Soon, everyone would see through him. And everyone would call him names, be scared of him, hate him, shun him. He didn’t want that. He found only salvation in dangerous things, in things that were like him, things that did not obey to the natural laws of the world. Things that were mistakes, abominations. Things that did not deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of humans. Will knew that he was beyond saving. And it hurt him. Every. Single. Day.
As he walked back, he felt lighter. They said art was the window to your soul. Which was why Will would never shown anyone that piece. They couldn’t know what darkness he held in him or they would run away. Like his father had done, choosing to kill his liver instead of his son, like he should have. The darkness had become apparent when he had been taken to the Upside Down, and even more when he had been possessed by the Mind Flayer. He could not resist the alluring call of that place even if it scared him, even if he would suffer by it. Why? Because he was alone.
***
He finally arrived back home, his canvas under his arm. He could hear the sounds of clinking forks and knives and realized that there were guests over. He sincerely hoped that it wasn’t Mike. Just, please let it not be Mike.
When he opened the door, he saw, to his great pleasure, Nancy, Steve, and Robin. He smiled, dropped his stuff in his room, then revealed his presence. Immediately, he sought out Robin’s presence, though he tried to hide it.
It was hard to describe him and Robin’s relationships because they hadn’t really interacted much. He only knew her through Dustin and Lucas, but he knew that she was gay as well. She was like him. And that brought him much comfort, mainly because he wasn’t alone but also because he could have a somebody to confide in and also complain to about his woes. Only if he could find the courage to approach her.
You see, Will was terrified. Terrified that Robin would instinctively know that he was gay and that she would out him. Obviously, he knew it was irrational: she wouldn’t do it to her own kind…right? He was also intimidated by her extroverted personality and the way she talked quickly. It was safe to say that he was an introvert and that he didn’t do well with confiding in people or communication. He sometimes struggled to find the right words, because he wasn’t a writer. He didn’t have that spark of wisdom or romanticism or darkness which would let him craft enchanting tales or talk eloquently. He was also kind of intimated by how open Robin was with her sexuality. She didn’t mind it and often talked about her past crushes or dates with her girlfriend Vickie. It was difficult for Will to imagine himself talking about a date with so and so, or about his night with his boyfriend, if he ever had one. Comparing himself with Robin, he was majestically inferior.
“Hi guys,” He said awkwardly, sitting between Robin and Nancy. “I hope it’s okay that I’m late I got kinda caught up while I was painting. Sorry.”
“No problem, Will!” Robin said while smiling. “We were just talking about you.”
Will blinked. His mouth dried. His heart sped up. He could feel a panic attack. He’d been having those frequently. He wanted to cry. “I…What?” He breathed out, eyes fleeting around the room.
Sensing his brother’s fear, Jonathan saved him. “Don’t worry, we were just talking about your D&D campaign.” He smiled gently before looking at Joyce pointedly.
“As I was saying,” Nancy started. “I don’t think that race and class harmony is the most important. You could have a race and class that do not complement each other bit still enjoy the game and win because you really get into character and improve your abilities. It’s getting into character that matters, not necessarily being the greatest.”
“Yeah, but what about protecting your teammates? I’m sure that if you take advantages then you can protect them well enough if you live, instead of being in harmony and dying. It’s simple. Protect however you can. It doesn’t have to be that hard if you choose wisely,” Hopper interjected.
“Yeah, but D&D is really about role playing and creating a character that encompasses yourself. It’s about having fun and not about being the most powerful.”
“Protecting others well is not necessarily being the most powerful,” Hopper replied.
“I agree with Nancy,” Blurted Will. “I think D&D…allows you to be yourself without all the outside would consequences. You can really pick a character which you will laugh, cry, die, celebrate with. And the same goes with your teammates. You’ll mourn their deaths and laugh when they come back. It’s easy enough to forget that you’re not them until you need to put back on the mask. It’s difficult to get back in what people expect you to be and you find yourself longing for another game. It’s hard, you know. And sometimes all you want if for your teammates to be themselves out of the game, even though all you want is for you to be able to be yourself. But no one can do that. Not people like us, anyways.” He looked at Robin, and they exchanged a look. He calmed his shaking hands and licked his nervously but then smiled weakly.
“That’s a great point, Will,” Hopper started after a moment where everyone processed his words. “But I also have this theory about class and race interaction…”
***
Night finally took Will in its somber house, gates creaking open and guardians hooting like horned owls. It welcomed him kindly and lulled him to sleep for him to forget his worries. It whispered words in the wind and sent messengers in the moonlight. Its eye shined like the moon and stars adorned its cape. He just wanted to forget his worries, just wanted to sleep. Mike, El, Max…
Everything was simply too much. Why did it have to matter? Why did he have to get others’ acceptance? Couldn’t he just be himself? Couldn’t he just be, for a little while, be Will Byers? Why did he have to live as a fake, as an imitation, as a shadow of himself? It was difficult sometimes, not to explode and scream to the sky. He just wished Mike was there for him…
Then suddenly he was there. Cheeks flushed, eye gleaming. The window was open. Will’s heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. He couldn’t believe it. But then everything had seemed so unnatural, and if Mike was here for a reason, then it was Will. But Will could not speak. His mouth was dry but he was licking his lips. Suddenly, he was aware of his lust.
“Will,” Mike breathed out huskily, clawing his way to Will’s body. “I’ve been waiting forever for this. You’re just too irresistible, Will.” Then, he touched Will’s neck, leaving fire all over the place. Will breathed out shakily, pupils blown wide. His mouth captured Will’s.
How to describe it? It was everything Will had wanted. Mike tasted like mint and fresh pine. His lips were chapped but soft, if that was possible. There was now a volcano in Will’s heart as Mike’s lips were on him. It was the beginning of the universe, and the end of Will’s despair. This was perfect. Mike cupped Will’s neck. Will wanted more. His desire throbbed through him and he couldn’t ignore that even though this was great, he wanted more and more, even when he felt Mike’s mouth become more and more frantic against his. He pawed weakly against Mike’s shirt, feeling his ribs. But then they broke apart. “Mike—?”
But it wasn’t Mike. It was a blonde guy. With sharp features and pale blue eyes. And a creepy soft smile. Oh fuck. It wasn’t a guy. Not a human. It was Vecna.
It. Was. Vecna. IT WAS VECNA.
Fear gripped Will’s heart. “Get away.” He whispered, not being able to talk. “Please, I’m begging you. Why are you here?” He wanted to cry so bad.
“You know why, Will Byers.” Vecna replied, voice rolling.
“I knew this moment would come. I knew I would die. But please, please make it quick. I’ve already hurt so much, just accord me this.”
Then, Vecna cupped Will’s face. “This isn’t why I’m here, Will.” He smiled. HE SMILED. “You are special, Will Byers. You don’t think you are worth it. You think you are a mistake. A fake. Something that’s bad. But you are special, Will Byers. You are powerful, you know. You are gifted. You are gorgeous. And your friends are not able to see that. They cannot see that you are the most important, the chain of the group. Why did you then think I targeted you? I had to pick the one whom I would remember. I had to pick one with so much kindness and strength that the others would not hesitate to save you. Will,” Vecna breathed out, eyes intense. “I am here for you. Do not forget that. I am here for you and only you.”
Then, Vecna got up, and his human body flickered. Will caught a glimpse of his dark armor and his tentacles. He turned around and his cloudy eyes appeared human, for just one second. He glimpsed kindness, understanding, and—something else. It was vulnerable but also warm. It was fire but a flower. It was—
No. Will, why? Traitor.
Mistake.
He had betrayed his friends by talking, letting Vecna in. He was disgusting. And he Vecna had spared him. There was a moment and everything crashed. Will could not breathe. He wanted to cry. He wanted to let himself fade. Just let it stop.
I’ve turned into a monster.
MONSTER.
TRAITOR.
FAG.