Chapter Text
“You’ve betrayed us!”
“How could you lead us to this point?”
“Mike! No! Will, tell him!”
“Well, we’re screwed”
“No, we’re fucked.”
“You guys it’s just a game.”
Voices overlap, growing like a swell, intermingling in a swirl that Will cannot follow. His gaze is frozen on the roll, the disadvantage apparent, his proficiency useless. It’s perfect. Mike’s campaign is marvelous, as usual. Maybe he’s biased, as usual. Amidst the chaos, Will feels eyes on him, slowly lifting his gaze to find Mike’s while their friends continue to bemoan their fate. There’s a smirk on his face, like he can read all of Will’s awe on his face and is drawing his own pride from it.
Mike has always loved to lead the party. It gave him purpose, confidence. When they were younger, Will knew that after a particularly dedicated campaign, Mike’s tone would be bright for days. His presence would warm Will’s spirits when Joyce was absent or Jonathan was in a mood. He had always been their party’s heart, but he had been Will’s heart too. God, how he wished for those feelings to return sometimes. For the sun to radiate from Mike, to him.
An uncertainty entered Mike’s tone after Holly didn’t come back. A doubt and a hollowness that was unfamiliar, uncharacteristic. Not just for him. A deep shadow has been hanging over the party with all that they lost: Eddie, Max’s mobility, Holly, El. Like a held breath, flickers resembling joy have returned in slow, hesitant releases over the past year. The longer that the steel plates in Hawkins stay firmly in place over solid ground and the military far gone, the more the party has tried to find a way to relax. The game brought them back together, broken and scarred.
Will we ever be the same? The thought arises to Will, still locked in with Mike. He blinks. How much time has passed? He drops his eyes before Dustin or Lucas notice. Not that they would tease him. Despite what his fears threatened within Vecna’s grip, his friends have not turned away from him. If anything, not much has changed, at least with their interactions with Will. There is still their love, now with their acceptance and a few adjustments to their discussions of future goals or girlfriends. No one has directly questioned the crush that Will thought was so obvious, for better or worse.
Maybe it is that easy.
Maybe they will never be the same, but at least it’s not because Will has his own preferences.
Preferences for dark lashes shadowing deep brown eyes and rich, unruly hair, a lanky frame that is still transforming into the more sturdy body that sits across from him now, casually arranged into a posed nonchalance…
Will looks up again, looking around this time, joining in with a light tone, “What else can we do? My power is useless here.”
Before Dustin or Lucas can draw a breath, Mike cuts in “You’re not useless.” It’s possessive, bordering scolding. He shakes his head, correcting, “I mean, sorcery alone won’t get to Tiamat, but we can find a way. There’s always another way.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dustin exhales, “We’ve got a long way to go, but –” He is cut off, a deep roll of thunder shaking the Wheeler house. Their heads snap to the windows, waiting for a red afterglow that would spell damnation coming again. No one moves for a moment, for two.
Nothing.
A cord is released and they relax in their chairs. Will still feels an internal tension; no matter facing their assured demise and making it through, no matter the expanding years, his body cannot take a thunderstorm. He tries to breathe into his chest and relax so his friends won’t see. Won’t worry.
“That’s our cue,” Lucas pushes off his chair. “I’ve got to get Max home, but tomorrow? We continue?” His hand lands on Will’s shoulder with a solid and warm grip. Apparently Will isn’t as natural as he thought. He looks up to Lucas, who gives him a knowing smile.
“Yeah, tomorrow” Will responds. He stands to hug Max and help get her chair up the stairs.
Lucas lifts Max so assuredly into his arms and starts their ascent from the Wheeler’s basement with Dustin and Will following behind. Despite the audience, Max wraps her hand around Lucas’s neck and draws him in for a kiss. Brief, but deep. Dustin whistles, Mike groans, and Will’s heart melts. One day, he thinks, I’ll have that. It’s a future he allows himself to imagine briefly. It’s a future he finally believes that he can have. Even if the figure in his imagination hasn’t changed yet, despite Will’s efforts to let go.
Maybe it is that difficult.