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The thunk hits Will’s bedroom window around eleven, the night before he starts his sophomore year at Hawkins High. He’s sort of in the middle of a panic attack about that when he hears it, which—for a guy who has experiences with the darker, weirder side of Hawkins—doesn’t do much to calm him down. But when he hears it again, the dull bang on the glass, he realizes with a slight scold to himself that it’s just a small rock. Very likely human, actually.
Will allows himself ten seconds to sort out his breathing before marching over, peering out the window panes to find the culprit, another projectile clutched and raised in a ready fist, which immediately lowers when he spots Will. His boyfriend stands a few feet away, grinning, and lets the rock fall from his hand as he opens his palm in a wave. Will internaly sighs.
He unlatches the window and pushes it open. “What are you doing,” he hisses out.
“I wanted to talk to you.” Gareth says it like Will’s reaction is unprecedented, like this is a normal thing to be doing and Will’s the weird one.
“And you couldn’t have—oh, I don’t know—called?”
“It’s late! I didn’t want to wake anyone up!”
Will raises an eyebrow. “And you have no issue waking me up?”
“You weren’t asleep,” says Gareth matter-of-factly. “The light is on.”
Will sighs externaly this time. Makes sure Gareth can hear it. “Just—get in, it’s cold.”
“Oh, I see how it is.” Gareth jumps a little, hoisting himself so he’s sitting up on the ledge, then swings around, putting his legs in one at a time. He stays sitting on the sill, back against the open air. “Only letting me stay ‘cause it’s cold. Don’t care at all to spend time with your boyfriend who you haven’t seen in ages.”
“You saw me yesterday,” Will points out.
“Yeah, but then I started missing you,” Gareth says, so simple and genuine that Will immediately melts. Forgets that he was even vaguely annoyed.
He nudges the space behind Gareth with his chin. “What with the rocks?” he asks.
Gareth shrugs. “Had to get your attention.”
“I’m on the first floor, you could have just knocked.”
Since moving back to Hawkins, the Byers and Hopper families fully melded with the reveal of Joyce and Hopper getting together. (Finally.) Between the two of them, they purchased a decent-sized house for all of them, and while certain things have been an adjustment (ahem, walking in on your mom being kissed by the former Chief of police when you just wanted a glass of water), it’s gone rather smoothly.
It’s nearly the same dynamic as California, just with the addition of Hopper. And if watching his mom being gross and in love is the price to pay for being back with all his friends, well. He’s secretly really happy for her.
“I was being romantic!” Gareth defends hotly. “O’ Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo, and… I don’t know the rest.”
Will looks at him blankly. “Does that make you Juliet?”
Gareth automatically corrects himself. “O’ Juliet, Juliet, where art tho—”
Will clamps a hand over this mouth. He feels Gareth grin under his palm, and sees the full tilt of it when he peels his fingers away.
Some days, Will thinks he lives for Gareth’s smile. It’s so achingly beautiful, the way it lights him up, the glistening sparkle that appears in his eyes. The happiness that radiates off him in infectious waves, dragging everyone in a close radius in with him, and Will is never immune. It reaches him, deep in his chest; fills his lungs, his heart, his hollow bones, with bursts of warmth. With a word that’s too soon to speak.
Will clears his throat. “By the way, it’s wherefore art thou, Romeo.”
“Oh. See?” says Gareth. “You’re totally Juliet. You know the words and everything.”
“‘My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep.” Will looks right into Gareth’s eyes as he quotes it, dropping his voice low like Eddie does during his campaigns. “The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.’”
Gareth’s smile falls as he speaks, watching Will raptly with a look of wonder painted on his every feature. Energy crackles between them, heavy and stifling, and suddenly the space between their bodies seems far too much.
Gareth coughs once and breaks the tension. “That was… very attractive. Whoever this Shakespeare guy was knew what he was talking about.”
“And then they both kill themselves,” Will reminds him.
“Okay, I don’t like that part—”
Will snorts.
“But the rest of it is pretty cute. It’s about forbidden love, how relatable.”
Will’s not sold on the comparison—dueling families and being gay—but sure, he’ll give it to Gareth. Two teenages willing to love despite the world around them screaming that they’re wrong for each other. Willing to do what it takes to be together, stay together, as everything tries to pull them apart. There’s a beauty in it, Will admits.
“How about the fact that Juliet was thirteen and Romeo is believed to be eighteen,” Will says, stifling a teasing smile. “How’s that for relatable.”
“Well, I—” Gareth splutters. “I’m only older than you by a year and a half, it’s not that bad! But I take it back—this Shakespeare guy sucked.”
“Eh,” Will says, shrugging his shoulders. “Different culture back then.”
“Wow, people in the eighteen-hundreds were gross.”
Will blinks at him. “Eighteen-hundreds?”
“Wow, people in the seventeen—”
“Fifteen,” Will coughs.
“Wow, people in the fifteen-hundreds were so gross!” Gareth finishes, only looking slightly embarrassed. “I’m bad with literature, sue me! An old book is an old book.”
“You should tell that to Ms. O’Donnell tomorrow,” says Will. “I hear she’s a very forgiving teacher.”
“Why would I need Ms. O’Donnell when my boyfriend is apparently a book connoisseur?” Gareth reels Will in with a light grip on his waist, and Will goes gladly.
“Connoisseur—that’s a ten-point word. Maybe you don’t need me, either.”
Gareth snorts. His fingers start tracing a pattern through the fabric of Will’s shirt. “That’s a side effect of hanging out with Eddie. And I absolutely do need you.”
“To what, open windows?” Will jokes.
“Exactly.” Gareth grins. “And, you know, to protect me from all your family members who want to murder me and all my family members. Wouldn’t want to have to beat them in a duel. Seems rude.”
“Someone’s confident,” Will remarks. He mindlessly rubs at the skin from Gareth’s wrists to his elbows. “Who says you’ll win?”
Gareth sniffs. “I could take them. For you.”
It’s a sentiment Will’s heart enjoys, given by the way it warms in his chest, though it’s not a realistic one. Normally, he’d love to put his full confidence in his boyfriend, but Gareth’s truly got nothing on a group of literal monster killers and the telekinetic who sleeps down the hall. He’s barely got anything on Joyce—who went to an alternate dimension filled with things that could likely kill her just to get to Will.
“You realize Hopper is a cop?” he says.
“Yeah, but… not anymore, right?” Gareth says, but he looks uncertain now. His hands still on Will’s waist. “Like, he doesn’t carry a gun?”
Considering their last few years, the entire Hopper-Byers house is stockpiled with enough weapons to be concerning to the average person. Hopper himself has multiple guns in his collection, along with various other sharp instruments, including a sword. He said it was a souvenir from Russia. (Apparently, it was either that or a flame thrower.)
“I have a gun,” says Will.
Unexpectedly, Gareth’s cheeks go pink. “…oh. Oh, that’s um…” He clears his throat. “Anyways. I think I can handle him.”
Will smiles fondly at Gareth and reaches a hand out to run it through his hair. His fingers dance through the strands, an improv routine that Will makes up on the spot. He loves Gareth’s hair. It’s so soft. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”
“Wait, no—let’s go back to the fact that you have a gun. What’s that about?”
“It’s not like I keep it in my room.” Will takes his hand back so he can cross his arms across his chest. “I don’t have it hidden under my pillow.”
Gareth narrows his eyes at him. “Why do I feel like you do have something hidden under your pillow?” he asks curiously, peering over in that direction.
Will glares. “I don’t know, why do you?”
Gareth holds his hands up in surrender. “I have never thought about the underside of your pillow less.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
“I will.”
“Good.”
“Great. You going to kiss me now?”
Will falters in surprise. That came out of nowhere.
“It’s just—you haven’t kissed me yet, tonight, and I came all the way here.” Gareth reaches out and tugs Will in closer by the hem of his shirt, lets Will step in between his legs. “And I missed you,” he whispers lowly. “So kiss me?”
They’ve been together nearly two months, yet the simplest things still have such an effect on him. Will’s weak—Gareth says he misses him, and Will melts; Gareth touches him, and his breath hitches. Gareth asks for a kiss, and Will just gives it to him. He’d never think to deny him. Has no reason to.
Will leans down and meets Gareth’s eager mouth, moving his lips against his softly, with reverence. It’s one of hundreds they’re already shared, but it hits him all the same, squarely in the chest, in his heart. A heart that beats for Gareth—for his smile, his laugh. That warms for him, sends fire through Will’s veins, lightning up his spine. He could do this forever.
I love you, Will thinks, and it’s not a new thought, but he’s still not ready to say it. So he tells Gareth with his lips, kisses him deeper, sweeps a thumb gently across his cheek. He pretends the movement of his mouth is him forming the words. I love you, I love you, I love you.
When they part, they’re both a little breathless, and Will takes a half-step back to gather his wits. “Better?” he asks.
”Mmm,” Gareth hums. He peers up at Will with shimmering eyes. “Much.”
It’s that smile again. Will leans back down and places a lingering kiss to Gareth’s forehead.
Somehow, Will doesn’t think he’s kissed him there before. Gareth looks startled but generally pleased, his smile turning dazed as he sways slightly.
It happens too quickly. Gareth leans back too far, with nothing to hold him up, and promptly slips from the window sill. Will reacts too slow to right him, his arms hovering in the air where Gareth’s body used to be as it tumbles to the ground. Hits it with a loud thud.
“Oh my god,” Will says. And it’s absolutely not funny, but he’s holding back a laugh. “Oh my god, are you okay?”
Will peers down at his sprawled-out body, chest rising and falling rapidly as Gareth attempts to catch his breath. He’s limp atop the dirt, one foot in a bush.
“I think I’m dead,” Gareth wheezes, the wind knocked out of him.
He’s speaking, which is a good sign. Seems relatively unharmed, considering the circumstances, but he only went down a few feet.
“Well, if you are, I’m not killing myself in solidarity.”
“Will Byers, you make me swoon,” Gareth says sarcastically.
“So hard you fall out of windows, apparently,” says Will.
“Too soon. I’m sensitive about that.”
“Seriously, you’re good though, right?”
Before he gets his answer, Will tunes in to the sound of a door opening, hinges squeaking lightly, and footsteps padding out into the hallway. He can hear it from here, which means whoever it is can probably hear him.
“Shit,” Will says under his breath. He turns back to Gareth, who hasn’t moved. “Someone’s coming, you have to go,” he whisper-yells out.
“Huh?” Gareth remains star-fished in the dirt.
“Gareth, you have to leave,” he emphasizes, risking raising his voice a little.
He runs through the possible scenarios quickly: El, Johnathan, Mom, or Hopper.
El and Jonathan wouldn’t be a big deal—he could probably even tell them the truth, though he’s not eager to. They’d be more curious than anything, if they even bothered to come check things out.
His mom on the other hand is a toss-up. Historically, she’s been known to get… excessive when she’s trying to protect someone, and right now she might think Will needs her.
Like Will was when he first heard the rocks hit the window, his first thought was danger. It’s a byproduct of what they’ve all been through, he gets that, but a lot of time he wishes it didn’t have to impact every little aspect of his life. He’d just like to sneak a few kisses with his boyfriend—as annoyed as he pretended to be—without Hopper busting in here, guns blazing.
Because if Hopper brings a shotgun, Gareth’s definitely dead. You don’t interrupt Jim Hopper’s eight hours without a good reason and live to tell the tale, monster or not.
Will hears the footsteps getting closer and hisses frantically, “Seriously, you need to go.”
Gareth groans as he peels himself off the ground, patches of brown dirt clinging to his clothes. He gives Will one last, departing look, grins cheekily, and kisses his fingers to blow it at Will. “Farewell, my love,” he says wistfully.
Will’s face burns crimson at the endearment. “Keep that one,” he says, then slams the window closed.
Right on time, two knocks rap out and his bedroom door swings open, Joyce Byers peering in with a puzzled expression. “Are you okay? What was that noise?” She looks around the room, searching for anything out of place.
“What? Oh, just…” Will gestures towards the desk he’s standing right beside and swallows a nervous lump in his throat. “Knocked over my lamp.”
His mom’s eyebrows crease, and Will’s heart picks up speed. “What are you even doing up? You’ve got school tomorrow.”
“Yeah, no, I know, I—“ Will wracks his brain. “I forgot that I… that I didn’t…”
His mom stands there expectantly, mouth halfway into a frown.
“I didn’t finish my summer reading,” Will blurts out.
“Oh.” His mom’s face is drawn and doubtful, but otherwise she seems assuaged. “Well, that’s not like you.”
Will shakes his head. “No, yep, totally blanked on it. I think because I’ve been so anxious about it all.” It’s not a complete lie, he has been stressed lately. “You know, starting school again back here.”
Immediately, Mom-Mode is activated, and her eyes soften with sympathy. Gotcha.
“Oh, honey,” she says soothingly. “You’re going to be fine, I promise. You’ve got El and the boys, and—you’ve got me, if you ever want to talk. You’ll probably feel better if you get some sleep, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll—do that.”
“Great,” his mom says with a smile. “Goodnight, then.”
“Yeah, night.” Will exhales.
“Oh—” His mom swings the door back open, and Will tenses up again. “What book?”
“Huh?”
“Your book, for summer reading,” she clarifies, sounding genuine.
“Oh, uh.”
And the lie pops so quickly into his head that Will almost wants to laugh. He thinks of rocks at his window, of warm hands and a joke that’s not a joke. He thinks of soft hair and softer smiles, of a word he’s getting closer to speaking.
He tells his mom, “Romeo and Juliet.”