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“I think you need to know the truth,” Will says, his voice shaky.
Joyce nods, understanding her son well enough to know that this is a serious conversation. Will breathes in through his nose, and Joyce hears a noise from behind him. The noise comes and goes, and Joyce returns her attention to her son.
“I–” Will begins but falters. Joyce wants to reach out and try, in vain, to carry some of that weight Will always seems to lug around with him. She doesn’t, because she knows that this is one of those moments when Will does not need it; one of those moments when Will does not want it.
His eyes dart down, doesn’t meet hers, and he takes a deep breath. To Joyce, it sounds like he’s preparing himself for a battle. She watches as he licks his lip in that familiar manner that he’s learnt to do from his friends.
He lifts his eyes, meets hers, and Joyce waits. “I– I’m different,” he says in a whisper, as though sharing a secret. Joyce really wants to reach out now. “I’m different. Different from Jonathan. From— Lucas, and Dustin, and Mike. I’m not like them, not really.”
Joyce feels her heart ache for her child anew. “Oh, baby…”
“No, Mom,” he leans away. He shakes his head. “No, just– just listen, okay? I– I have to say this and I just need you to listen, ‘til the end. Okay?”
Joyce nods. “Okay.” Will nods back as he takes another breath.
“I’m different. I like most of the things they like. I like D&D and some of the same music and... I just— I just don’t like—” he takes a breath, his lips trembling— “I don’t like girls. I– I like boys, Mom.”
There are tears streaming down his face, his eyes searching her face frantically, his hands shaking in his lap, his lip worried tensely between his teeth– and Joyce realises she’s messed this up. She can’t say anything because Will beats her to it.
“And I was– I was okay with it. I really was.I wasn’t, for a long time, but— I was starting to really think things would be okay. And then– then he showed me those things. He showed me this– this future where I told people and– and it didn’t go too well,” he tries for a laugh and it falls flat to Joyce’s ears. He sniffles, wiping at his eyes. “Some people were… not happy about it. They said things, called me things.” Will lets out a shaky breath, tears falling freely at this point. He looks up again and meets her eyes. Joyce is almost tempted to shut her own, to shield herself from the seemingly never-ending depths of anguish she sees staring back at her in her baby’s eyes. “Some people were— they were cruel. They hated me, they did things; awful, awful things, Mom,” his voice breaks and Joyce feels her heart break along with it. “In those visions, some people wanted to— they wanted to kill me. They said they’d be ridding the world of evil and darkness.”
He draws in a sharp breath, as if warding off a bad memory. He swallows hard before meeting her eyes once more. Joyce doesn’t shy away this time. “And some people, they were just worried about me. They– they told me to hide and– and to never talk about it. They said I’d have to be a secret, forever. And sometimes? I feel like those were the worst ones. It all just— it just makes me feel like there is something wrong with me, in here,” he says as he presses a finger to his – to his heart, Joyce thinks uselessly.
Joyce shakes her head, unable to form words at that moment. Will’s face all but crumbles, and he sniffles hard. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m so, so sorry. I just– I–” he never gets to finish.
Joyce has him in her arms before he can. She holds him tight, one palm in his hair and the other soothing circles on his back. Joyce cries, because she has messed up so much in her life, but this is by far her biggest mistake. “I’m so sorry, baby, I am so incredibly sorry,” she says into his shoulder, as he cries into hers. He’s not holding her, but she can feel his hands hover over her back. She pulls him in closer.
“It’s not– it’s not your fault, Mom. I promise. It was me—”
Joyce pulls away to look him in the eye, her hands still on shoulders, holding him tight. “No,” she says with conviction. “None of this is your fault. I failed you, okay? I failed you by letting you think, for even a second, that— that this was something to be ashamed about. That this, that you being you — you being your awesome, wonderful, lovable self — was somehow something you had to hide, from me or from anyone. It is not, do you hear me?” She holds his face as he cries, and she’s crying now too, she knows it. She shakes her head more out of frustration at herself than anything else. “I am so, so sorry, baby. I’m sorry for ever letting you think your father’s— Lonnie’s words ever meant anything. They don’t. He was an asshole. Anyone who has ever made you feel like he did, anyone who’s ever called you names or said things or pushed you around. They’re all assholes. They’re dumb and don’t know how lovely of a person you are. Their loss, I say.”
Will smiles, his eyes drifting down shyly. Joyce feels a quiet wave of relief wash over her as she takes in the small smile. It's reluctant and tentative and quiet, but it's his smile and Joyce will forever treasure it for what it is; her son here and safe and alive. Her son, still striving and her son in her arms. She will love that smile till the day she dies, and then carry that smile with her into the afterlife. She will never let it go, she knows it.
She brushes off a tear from his cheeks with her thumb, smiling a tentative smile of her own. “I love you with all my heart. I always have and I always will. I need you to know that nothing, nothing, will ever change that. Even if you come to me one day with a dead body. I won’t ask questions, I promise.”
His shoulders shake in the echo of a laugh and Joyce brings him closer. This time she feels his arms wrap around her, clutching at her coat from behind. He buries his face in her shoulder and he cries and Joyce cries too, wishing she’d been a better mother. Wishing that she’d seen this coming somehow.
They pull apart and Will is still crying, though with a lightness in his eyes that Joyce is so overwhelmingly happy to see again. She strokes her thumb over his cheek, wiping away his tears. “Thank you for telling me, sweetheart. I am so, so proud of you,” she tells him, pulling him close once more as a new wave of tears overtakes him.
“Thanks, Mom,” Will whispers into her shoulder.