Archive of Our Own

A “fresh new start” to Will’s family is different from a “fresh new start” to Will.

His family has always made it a point to look at the bright side of things. Will supposes it’s a sort of survival tactic they’ve picked up after so many years of trials and tribulations.

So when the cost of living kept rising in California and his mom, brother, and newfound step father and stepsister were forced to move to Indiana, they didn’t complain or mope or mourn the way someone would usually expect.

Instead, they closely clung to the idea that it might be nice to start somewhere new.

Because it’s nice to meet new people. It’s nice to explore new places. It’s nice to gain new experiences. It’s nice that such fresh starts bring new opportunities.

For them, it’s natural to think of all the good that can come with this change. It’s the power of positivity and all that. And really, Will admires it. He does.

But he himself considers him to be the weakest link of the family when it comes to this sort of thing. Or most things really.

Because to Will, these opportunities they speak of really sound like a dozen opportunities for him to royally fucking everything up. And being a trans queer kid moving into a red state really ups those chances by tenfold.

Will’s nervous. His entire family is nervous; he just knows they won’t admit it for his sake.

They keep trying their best to quell every anxiety that comes up. Reasoning that they have family in Indiana, his parents grew up there and know most of the town.

It’s 2012. Things aren’t as close-minded as they were back then. Though in Will’s opinion, as is doing a whole lot of the work there.

Plus, Hopper’s a cop. Surely, no one’s going to pick on his step-son, and if they did, he’d do something about it.

And Will passes. He passes pretty well for his age. He’ll forever be indebted to Dr. Owens for helping him start testosterone a year and a half ago, legal or not.

But just because he passes, doesn’t mean he still doesn’t feel the need to hide.

Will is not scared of being picked on or humiliated. He’s been there, done that many times before.

No. There are much scarier things. Like being seriously discriminated against, physically assaulted, or even being killed.

It’s not like he hasn’t feared this before. But California was different. He’d accidentally been outed to his parents in 5th grade, sending his biological father on a rampage and ultimately ending his parents' marriage. (Though his mom swears it isn’t his fault, Will knows better than that) And people had questions to say the least.

None of which the Byers family gave them the time of day to answer.

But of course, over time, people started connecting the dots. Especially when Will had come to school in different clothes, with a shorter and shorter haircut each time, and one day an entirely different name.

He never explicitly came out, but he knew that people knew.

Even in the rather progressive suburbs of California, he would get shit for it sometimes. Though, at the very least, Will had never felt terribly threatened.

But now? Small town Hawkins in Indiana is a completely different animal.

Nearly every household has an American flag strapped to their porches, which Will wouldn’t say he has a problem with, but he well knows that there’s a big chance they think of ‘his kind’ as a stain on their dear country, and that always sends a small shiver down his spine.

Most lawns here are plastered with big red ‘MITT ROMNEY’ for president poster boards, and sharply contrast the mostly blue ones he’d gotten so used to seeing.

And even on one occasion, to his utter horror, Will saw a “No trespassing ‘we don’t call the police’” sign with a large gun symbol posted to someone’s fence.

As one can imagine, all of this has a very special way of making Will sweat.

But on top of it all, starting sophomore year in high school without knowing anyone except your sister?

The pressure is on, and Will is not one to take chances.

It’s been agreed upon amongst his entire family that he’s going stealth. No one has to know. And Will can relax.

He can totally find a way to relax whilst juggling hiding his chest, rewriting past stories to accommodate his gender whenever they come up, coming up with ways to avoid gym, finding ways to get out of changing in the boys locker room, and making friends, hiding most of his personality and life story while doing it.

Will can totally do this.

His family has always been strong in the face of adversity. And Will desperately wants to, even if he can only manage just this once, be strong for them the same way.

Today, on August 18th, it really doesn’t matter if Will can do this. He is doing this. Even if it’s one painful step at a time.

“Will Buddy—!“ He can hear Johnathan yell while knocking on his door.

“Yeah— I know!” Will shouts while slipping into his dark denim jeans. The only ones that don’t hold an ungodly amount of paint stains.

Originally, Will had told Johnathan to make sure he was up by 7:00. But in his fit of panic and rumination, he had instead gotten up at 6:30 because of how anxious he was about today. Way to ruin his sleep schedule again.

Making good use of his time, he double checked the outfit that lay upon his desk that he had picked out the night before. And tried to make sure it made him look ‘cisgender’ enough while also making sure it was all ironed out (because god forbid a guy wants to still look nice.)

With careful consideration, Will chose a long-sleeve shirt to go under his Joy Division band tee (in the hopes it’d keep him a little warmer), his favorite hand-me-down jacket from Johnathan that squares his shoulders just right, his best pair of jeans, and his beaten-up adidas that he refuses to retire despite everyone’s pleas.

Once Will has gotten his jeans on he looks into his full-body mirror. And thank god for testosterone’s fat redistribution because his jeans finally hug his hips in the way that makes him slightly giddy.

It makes him feel better, even if only by a little.

He takes a deep breath, like his mother had taught him a few years ago when trying to stop one of his oncoming panic attacks. Will braces himself for the day.

It’s the sophomore year of high school. Which means every used-to-be freshman has already gotten over the hurdle of not knowing anybody, while Will and Jane have not.

Having lived his entire life in California, Will has never experienced being the new kid.

He tries to break everything down in his mind.

The Cons:

The Pros:

Meaning, Will can be anybody he wants.

Meaning, gone are the days where he depends on the acceptance of other people to see him for who he truly is. What they will see is whatever Will puts out for them to see, and they’ll never question it unless Will gives them due reason to question.

So as long as Will doesn’t screw up, if he plays his cards right, if he keeps up appearances, he will be nothing more than some new boy from California.

And that one thought brings relief.

He stares at himself in the mirror for a few seconds longer, focusing sharply on his breathing and gathering enough strength to hopefully get him through the day.

After he’s done, he’s quick to strip his old sleep-shirt off to continue changing.

Will does his best not to stare at his chest while he rummages through his desk drawers to find his kinesiology tape. Some days, if he thinks about it too hard and what his chest symbolizes, he gets insecure. While other times, he couldn’t care less.

Today is one of those days where they’re simply mounds of flesh and nothing more.

But alas, in order for his plan to work, they’ll need to be hidden all the same.

He finally fishes what he needs out of the mess of his drawers, mentally noting that he should really get to organizing that of his own accord before his mom orders him to.

Will pauses, staring down at the all too thin roll of tape in his hand.

Dammit.

By his guess, there’s maybe four days' worth left. He’ll have to ration it out till he can score some more, which may or may not prove to be difficult here. Though he really hopes it isn’t.

The rationing will have to start after today, however, because Will isn’t going to dare walking into the first day of school suffocating in his binder when his chest is already feeling impossibly tight as is.

He mentally drops the count to three days' worth of tape.

Will rips a piece off, holding it between his lips while he pushes his flesh to the side. With one hand steadying everything, he uses the other to place the tape against his skin.

He’s careful, making sure nothing is too tight or too loose, having learned his lesson many times before. He’d never like to relive the time some of his skin peeled with the tape.

At first, it feels everything feels right, then he looks in the mirror and realizes it’s lying completely wrong and goes to redo it.

After the fourth failed attempt, Will finally gives up, hangs his head low, and, with a huff of frustration, asks for help.

“Mom?” He calls out a little strangled. “Can you help with my tape?”

A few seconds pass by until he hears, “Of course, sweetie!— Just one second!”

He listens to the quick padding of her slippers against their vinyl wood floors until she pushes through the door.

“Okay- here!”

She rubs her hands together quickly and blows air in them, in an attempt to make sure her touch is as warm as possible.

Will hands her the piece of tape he’s already ripped off.

In the moment, Will thinks that although he may not have won the lottery when it came to his father, he certainly did when it came to his mother.

She smiles sweetly at him as Will pulls at his skin on the sides, and she flattens the tape against his ribs. “Nervous?” She asks, prompting him with her other hand to give her another piece.

Will hums while ripping it off. “A little,” He croaks out. Liar. More like a lot.

She nods, grabbing it and securing it against his skin. “You’ll do great. I know you will.” She says, switching to the other side.

Will's lips twist, unsure. He focuses on getting another piece ready.

“I’ll try.” He quietly corrects.

His mother stays silent as she works on the other side, and Will almost thinks she accepts that answer.

Upon placing the last piece of tape, she stands straighter and finally meets his eyes. Will squirms under her firm gaze as she plants her hands firmly on his shoulder and assures,

“You will.”

She twists him around to look in the mirror and pinches his cheek, making Will scrunch his nose in embarrassment.

“My handsome young man.” She teases. Will pretends to groan, but really only laughs as he swats her away.

“I still need to get ready.” He half-heartedly argues.

“Right. Right.” She answers, waving a hand around and tiptoeing away through the door. “Big day!” She shouts from the hallway. Big day, indeed.

Will finishes up, putting deodorant on, throwing on his layers, flattening them out against him, spritzing the cologne Johnathan had bought him on his 16th birthday, and slipping his shoes on.

The very last thing is his hair, something Will hadn’t paid all that much attention to till last year. Johnathan had shown him the wonders of hair clay, and it’s been his go-to ever since. Now that his family has a little spare money, with the lower cost of living in Indiana, Will doesn’t have to put up with his mom’s homemade haircuts anymore.

Not that he didn’t appreciate. He did. It’s just that sporting a bowl cut past the age of 10 gets pretty old pretty fast.

At least now, Will’s really happy with his current haircut. It’s finally textured enough that he actually has something to work with.

He spritzes his hair with water, dips the tips of his fingers in the clay, and styles his hair.

When he’s done, he stares in the mirror again and lingers.

Will can do this.

Everything’s fine. He doesn’t need to catastrophize everything. He can get his shit together. And— ‘seize the day’ and all that.

Again, he really isn’t the best at this positivity thing. But it doesn’t stop him from at least trying.

With a bout of confidence, real or fake, he’d never tell, Will opens and walks through his door right as Johnathan knocks on Jane's for the 5th time this morning.

“C’mon, Jane! We’re gonna be late!” He pleads, having played this game too many times before.

“I'm not done! 5 more minutes!” She shouts from inside.

Jonathan groans, throwing his head against the door, muttering, “You said that 5 minutes ago.”

Both brothers exchange looks when they hear a few things clatter to the ground through her thin wooden door. Johnathan runs a tired hand over his face. What in the world could she be up to?

Will doesn't wonder for long because he’s interrupted by a stern voice calling from down the hall.

“Will.”

On instinct, he promptly freezes, and momentarily, the only thing his eyes can lock on to is the dingy, patterned wallpaper of the wall. The voice nearly sounds like Lonnie, though of course, Will knows he’d never hear his actual name from the man’s mouth.

He forces his body to turn towards the kitchen.

And luckily, it's just Hopper holding two brown paper bags up. The man’s face quickly changes to something more apologetic over his mistake in tone, once he catches sight of Will’s startled expression.

He’s trying. Will recalls his mother explaining. He hasn’t been married in years, and he’s never had a son before. Which is what he sees you as, she said. And Will hopes it's true.

So please, just give him time. And of course, since she asked, Will would.

Will sends a small smile as he walks over to take both of the bags.

“Thanks.” He says with a nod before making his way to where his and Jane's backpacks hang to stuff what he assumes are their lunches in.

“No problem,” Hopper says, thankfully a little softer this time.

His mom cuts in, clattering two plates on the counter. “I made bagels for the three of you!” She announces, running over to grab her keys from a bowl. “But me and Hop gotta get to work already!”

“Thanks, mom.” He says.

After he’s put their lunches in their bags, Will settles on one of the stools of the counter and decides on which bagel to grab. He takes a bite of his one of choice, and watches as Hopper grabs his cowboy hat and adjusts it on his head in the mirror. Meanwhile, Will’s mother runs back and forth between the kitchen and the living room, and Will doesn’t bother to follow her with his eyes because he knows he would only get dizzy.

Jonathan trudges into the kitchen, defeated after his 7th attempt to get Jane out of her room has failed.

“I’ll take ‘em to school, Mom.” He says, while grabbing his own bagel and stuffing a bite in his mouth.

“Thank you, baby!” She shouts, speeding over to place kisses at the top of their heads whilst still fighting to get her jacket on. She pauses and looks around, asking, “Where’s—”

Jane bursts out of her room and jogs over, enveloping their mom in a hug. “Just in time to say goodbye.” She says, breathlessly.

Joyce places a kiss on her forehead and carefully fixes her bangs after pulling back.

“I’ll see you all when I get home!” She shouts, stumbling her way towards and through the door Hopper is holding open. “Have a great day, all of you kiddos!”

Before he leaves, Hopper sends a confirming nod to Johnathan, the type of fatherly one that Will genuinely wonders what it could mean, but Johnathan clearly understands it and nods back. Hopper then turns to Will and Jane.

“Have a great day.” He says, firmly with a small smile. And with that, he’s out the door.

Upon hearing the lock of the door click shut, Will takes this chance to finally get a good look at Jane and see what took her so long.

“Holy shit—”

His eyes widen in surprise as he scans her face. She’s been talking about experimenting with makeup— Will just hadn’t thought she’d start so drastic. This must be her way of taking advantage of “starting new,” he thinks.

It’s Bold. Bolder than Will would ever dare to be.

Her black eyeliner is sharp around the corners of her eyes, but are softened by the baby blue eyeshadow she’s placed above and underneath. And her lips hold a small sheen from what Will assumes is a light pink lip gloss.

“Pretty?” Jane asks, cocking her head to the side, sincerely wondering if the result was worth the time.

Will nods vigorously. “Pretty. The blue compliments your eyes.” He assures. Then after another beat,

“How many youtube tutorials did you watch?”

Jane makes a face.

“Too many.”

Now that Will can see her up close, he realizes she looks exhausted. She probably woke up earlier than he did. All their plans of fixing their sleep schedule has gone out the window, but the bright side is that he thinks they can share their sleepless nights watching TV together.

“Wait. Lemme see.” Jonathan says, leaning closer to get a better look, causing the old wooden stool underneath him to creak from the weight. Jane dramatically spins her head towards him, puffing her hair up in the process.

“Woah,” He says, over a full bite of bagel. “It looks awesome.”

Jane bashfully smiles down at her bagel, muttering, ‘thanks you guys’.

As they munch on their bagels, they share idle chit-chat about their worries about today, and Johnathan tries his best to reassure them every chance he gets. He'd recently graduated 2 years ago, but still remember his sophmore year clearly.

It's not too much different in California than it is here. Kids gather in cliques and clubs, and you may find you place within those, but not to worry if you don't. Plenty of kids keep to themselves or have much smaller groups of friends, much like how he did, and he would arguably say everything turned out fine.

Jane seems to really like the idea of a clique, not the preppy mean girl type, of course, although she's obsessed with that movie, but more in the traditional sense of having a place where you feel you belong. Which Will gets, but he'd be fine with just one friend, too.

He remembers Argyle from back when Johnathan was in school, and he thinks he'd like what they had. Y’know, minus all the weed.

But of course, Will’s very familiar with reality, and doesn't hold his expectations for highschool very high. He knows beggars can't be choosers. As long as he isn't mercilessly harassed. He'll take it.

After they finish their meal, like their mother had taught them, all three of them dust their hands off and place their plates in the sink.

Will glances at the clock of their stove. 7:45.

“Ready?” Jonathan asks the two of them, balancing on one leg, while pulling on his shoes.

“Yeah.” He answers. Barely.

Jane grabs their backpacks from their hangers and hands Will’s to him. He throws it over his back and onto his shoulders, and both of them follow Jonathan as he cracks open the door.

Crisp fall air hits the three of them. Jane quickly sneezes.

The twins make their way to his car while Johnathan lags behind to lock the door.

“I call shotgun!” Jane yells, picking up her speed.

“You always call shotgun—” Will complains, trying to keep up while still trying not to trip on the cracked pavement.

Jonathan shoots them both down quickly.

“No one’s calling shotgun. The seat belt still doesn’t work on that side.”

He ushers them into the back of the car instead, shuts the door, and speeds around to hop into the driver's side.

Once on the road, Jonathan yells back, “Music to start the day?”

Jane and Will exchange looks.

"Bowie." They say back to Johnathan, who smugly looks through the rear-view mirror, proud that they inherited his music taste.

"Which album?"

They think. And suddenly they aren't on the same page.

"Ziggy Stardust!” Will shouts ahead.

Jane shoots him a frown. "You always overplay that one— Diamond dogs instead!"

”What?— Lies.” Will argues with a small scoff.

Jonathan ignores them and simply shuffles through the CDs in his overhead basket.

“Soo, Diamond dogs?”

Jane sends an expectant glance Will’s way.

She's lucky he's always been too soft.

“Yeah,— that’s fine.”

Johnathan nods and quickly pops the CD in, skipping between a few songs before focusing his full attention back on the road.

Ultimately, the album choice doesn't matter because Will and Jane don’t pay close attention to the music or sing along like they usually do. They’re both caught up in that sinking feeling they have in their stomach that only worsens the closer they get to school.

Will watches out the window of the car, trying to familiarize himself with this new place he's supposed to call home.

He sees Melvald's general store and imagines his mother has already started work. He looks to the local police station, where, no doubt, Hopper is already comfortable. Will stares at the downtown's public library, town hall, and church that stand as the center of everything. And as they drive past a small shopping strip, he presses his face closer to the glass to get a better look at the palace arcade, family video, and small locally owned thrift store that he imagines he’ll end up spending most of his time at.

But most of all, as they make their way across town, Will pays close attention to all the individual people here, too.

And the only lyrics that truly resonate in his mind while he does it are Rebel Rebel’s,

“How could they know?”

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“I love you!” Johnathan shouts from his car’s open window as the two siblings hop out.

”We love you too!” They both shout back at him, offering their little waves, before he’s forced to drive off to avoid blocking traffic.

The second Will steps away from the car, it’s immediately too damn cold. See, California falls were merciful. They were sunny and pretty, and although the landscapes around them may have changed colors, they never once lost them. The temperature there was always a perfect middle ground of being just warm enough that a light hoodie and long sleeve shirt would make do.

He desperately misses California’s warmth.

Because it's not just the weather that's cold. The people here are too.

It's not like Will had many friends back in California. There was Jamie and Isabelle whom he spent most of his time in school with, but they never hung out much outside of that, so he wouldn’t say they were close.

Will was and never has been popular, and as he transitioned, that became even more so. He supposes that’s why the social aspect of leaving while moving away was particularly easy for him. There wasn’t much for him to leave behind.

So it’s weird to say he misses it.

He wouldn’t go as far as to say people were so much nicer in California; it's just that they usually didn’t care enough to look his way. And if they did bother to stare, they had the intention of doing something about it. Whether the purpose was to disturb him or offer an ounce of kindness didn’t truly matter, because Will didn’t have to live in a limbo of wondering which way it’d go.

But here, they keep him guessing. They’re staring, questioning, picking apart, judging. And Will has never felt more seen in his life.

It's actually fucking sickening. He already decides he hates it.

From the corner of his eye, he can see Jane’s grip on her backpack straps tighten, and instinctively, Will thinks he should reach out and offer some comfort.

Though because he’s not doing much better in that department, all he can manage to do is inch closer to her.

They both share a shaky exhale before inching closer to the school’s double doors with their heads down. A few stares falter, most stares stay.

In Hawkins, Everybody knows everybody, and somebody is always somebody, and here Will and Jane stand, clear as day, as nobodies.

Will assumes that because there’s nothing interesting in this town, the minute they find something new, all eyes are on it. Suddenly, to them, there is nothing more interesting than being “nobody”.

Finding themselves as the subject of their interest makes everything feel so cramped, and suffocating, and impossibly eerie. It makes Will want to crawl out of his skin and book it back home.

Because the sun is gone, and it’s all too gray. The school's brick isn’t nearly as saturated with murals or any sort of colorful graffiti as California’s, but instead stands rather faded and bland aside from some crappy tiger logo. And none of it does a good job of giving the two of them any comfort.

Jane's colorful outfit and makeup sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the dreary and much more conservative crowd, and Will doesn't do a great job of blending in even whilst hiding behind her.

No one at the main entrance is wearing individualized clothing; it looks like nearly every article they wear was purchased from their local Sears center or JCPenney.

And while Will has always thought he has a pretty boring style of dress, he stands in the middle of their sights, feeling as though maybe he’s doing all too much and trying all too hard.

Somehow, all of this is making him feel insecure for even being a person.

It’s just the few people outside, Will tells himself. Things could be different inside. Things could be better.

Things could be worse.

It’s a relief when the bell finally rings, saving them from any more unwelcome stares by immediately kicking every student into gear.

Will and Jane share readying looks.

Luckily, the wave of students that follows is nothing compared to the ones they’ve navigated before. They both exchange one last goodbye as they walk inside the school before ultimately parting ways for now.

Reluctantly, Will is left to walk alone.

Far ahead of him, down the hall, he can hear someone groan out,

“I hate high school.”

And Will doesn’t think any truer words have ever been said.