Chapter Text
Will stared at the headache-inducing television, or more behind it, since he'd not really been paying attention anyway. He wallowed in his own self-pity and disappointment like a pig gleefully rolling in mud, almost happy to be feeling so sad.
Spring break had officially started, and to Will this was both a blessing and a curse—no school, but without school, he had nothing to do. He had no plans, unless you counted Mike's visit, but Will knew that you couldn't possibly count Mike's visit since he was mostly there for El, and would be at her side all the time, and Will would be stuck by himself. Will was a total and absolute loser, which he guessed wasn't anything new.
"What is this?" Will had been so lost in his own mind he'd not heard El come in. She lifted Will's feet up from where they rested as to give herself a spot to sit on the couch, and once she was sat, placed them back down onto her lap.
"Huh?" Will said, snapping out of his miniature coma.
"On the T.V.," El gestured towards the television, which was currently displaying a technicolor shot of Audrey Hepburn wearing a black headwrap and chic black sunglasses.
"Oh. It's Charade." Will gently moved his feet off of El's lap so as not to bother her, and repositioned himself into a sort of ball, sitting upright and hugging his knees to his chest.
"She is very pretty." El, who'd clearly never seen the movie, was automatically enthralled, her eyes glued to the screen. Will watched too. She was pretty. The movie had started fairly recently, and so Audrey's character was now walking around her empty flat in distress, and Will gulped. He'd felt just like her— his life, which, while having its low moments, was once so great, had suddenly up and left him, and he'd been hung out to dry in this strange California home watching Charade on a Friday afternoon. Back in Hawkins, he didn't know how good he had it. He cursed his younger self for taking everything for granted.
"Yeah."
"Are you excited for tomorrow?" El said, after the two had silently watched Audrey Hepburn flail around the apartment for another minute.
"Hm?" Will looked at her sideways, her head still straight and eyes still on the movie.
"Mike is coming tomorrow. Are you excited?"
"Oh, yeah," Will replied absently. Really, he hadn't thought about it. At least, not enough to be necessarily excited. Mike was coming, sure, and it was to see Will, but only partly, and Mike's lack of specialness towards him was more than enough to make Will feel almost annoyed by the whole thing. He'd tried to make himself feel happy about it, tried to remind himself that his best friend was visiting and he'd get to hang out with him for an entire week, but it was fruitless. Now, the whole thing felt oddly casual, like Mike was just coming home from the grocery store. In a way, disregarding it completely was what made Will feel better about it.
"I think I'll take him to the roller rink." El said, a twinge of excitement rising in her voice. It was all Will could do to not roll his eyes at the way El said "I'll". Of course it wasn't a "we" thing—Will wasn't the one dating him. He wasn't Mike's only person. Will had to give something to El. It's the least he could do.
"That sounds fun. He'll like it," Will said, hoping his jealousy wasn't noticeable. El was about to say something when the front door slammed shut and an overwhelming Joyce-like presence filled the home.
"Hello!" Joyce called out, and, with an excessive jingle of keys, could be heard placing her bag on the dining room table. She made her way back to the living room and stood with her hands at her hips in the doorway.
"Hello, hello," she said again, this time with a wave as the two on the couch looked over at her.
"Hi, Joyce!" El said. Will only returned the greeting with a half-hearted smile.
"Jonathan's working still?" Joyce asked, and Will nodded. "Ah. I, uh, had something to tell you guys, but I guess I could just tell him when he gets home,"
"Oh?" Will repositioned himself, knees still held tightly, only now he rotated to face his mother. He watched as she took a seat in one of the cheap-looking armchairs he refused to ever sit in for reasons he never really thought to define.
"So John grabs me as I'm clocking out, and he's all 'Joyce, so glad I caught you,' and already I'm like, shit. And so he takes me to his office and I'm already prepared to be all, 'no, sorry, can't work Easter, but I'll tell you if something clears up,' when he starts in on his weird fawny routine he pulls out when he wants me to do something he knows I won't want to. 'There's a show next Wednesday out in Las Vegas, we've been asked to go, and I figured, who else could do this if not our own renaissance woman Joyce Byers?'"
"Las Vegas?" Will and El spoke at the same time, El in confusion and Will in shock.
"He wants you to go to Vegas? That's so far away!" Will sat straight now, his hands gripping the couch at either side of him.
"I know. And the worst part is, I said yes," Joyce couldn't help but laugh. Will could only stare. "But I mean, hey, it's not that far. Only about six hours by car."
"When are you leaving, then?"
"Tomorrow morning, I guess. Early. I almost considered tonight but with Jonathan—"
"Tomorrow? Jeez!" Will laughed now too, and looking over at El, who'd looked like she'd seen a ghost, probably because she'd realized half of her plans with Mike had just been destroyed, only made him laugh harder. Everything was so totally fucked that it was all he could do.
* * *
The dim overhead light of the kitchen buzzed faintly as Will sat on the countertop, watching Jonathan search the cabinets for something to eat. It was late now, and Joyce had since broke the news to Jonathan, who begrudgingly accepted his role as interim parent for the next week.
"Mom tells me she thinks you're depressed." Jonathan said, almost too casually, his back turned to Will as he ripped a bag of chips open. "I wanted to say: 'I would be too if my mom was leaving me alone for John from work.'"
Will didn't laugh now, he could only stare at the countertop across from him and focus on the sound of the light.
"I can't believe she's even going," Jonathan turned to face Will, leaning tiredly against the counter and holding the bag of chips as gently as he would a child.
"Me neither."
"Guess we need the money, though. She just doesn't want to tell you guys that." Jonathan pawed at the bag as Will still refused to make eye contact.
"I can kind of tell. I mean, why else would she say yes?"
"The whole thing is just dumb." Jonathan said under his breath. Then, as a not-so-subtle change of topic—"You excited to see Mike tomorrow?"
"Sure," Will replied, his gaze now on the refrigerator.
"Hey,"—with this, Will snapped out of it and finally turned to look at Jonathan—"are you okay?"
"Huh?"
"You're not excited, I guess," Jonathan laughed.
"No, no, I am, I swear it's just—"
"Yeah." Jonathan knew, and Will found himself both at ease and uncomforted by it.
Silence. The boys stayed there in the semi-comforting silence, save the hum of the light, for another few minutes until footsteps trudging downstairs caught their attention. It was Joyce, who'd come down to the kitchen for a cup of water. Upon retrieving a glass from the cupboard above Jonathan, she gave him an affable rub of the shoulder, paired with an almost inaudible "hey," and walked over to the sink to fill it.
"Mom?" Will spoke up, already regretting what he was about to ask, but knowing from experience that there was no way out of it ("No, don't say 'forget it,' tell me!").
"Yeah, baby?"
"What if I like... went with you? Y'know, to Vegas?"
Joyce was taken aback by the idea, and so was Jonathan; the ruffle of the chip bag had stopped short and again, for a few seconds, the only noise in the house was the overhead light.
"Oh," she started, empty cup in hand, the other placed stagnantly on the faucet. "Well, I hadn't thought of that. Are you... sure?" Joyce turned around and placed the empty cup on the counter next to the sink.
"I dunno, it was just a dumb idea. It's fine,"
"No, no, I mean... ya could," Joyce shrugged, shutting Will's feeble protests down. "You'd be super bored though, don't you think?"
"Wouldn't be much different here."
"Don't talk like that,"
Will said nothing. Jonathan rolled the chip bag up and carefully moved to put it back into the cabinet.
"Well, if you want to come, Will, you can. You know I wouldn't mind." Joyce assured. Will looked at her now and thought about it in detail. He'd asked on impulse, just some stupid idea to avoid seeing Mike, to avoid seeing Mike and El, to avoid being so sad. But, did he want to? Did he want to get away from Mike that bad? Forgetting Mike, a change of pace might be fun, Will thought. A vacation— a true spring vacation of sorts, in a new state, where, sure, he'd be bored out of his mind, but he'd be bored in Nevada, not California, and that was a big enough change to make Will feel stupidly inclined to do it.
"Okay,"
"You should go to bed now, then, if you're serious," Joyce glanced at her cup and, with a sudden remembrance, grabbed it and got to filling it. "I'll be getting you up at around five."
Will looked at Jonathan for the first time since Joyce walked in. The two exchanged a glance, one that made Will look away immediately, almost without thinking; Jonathan bore a cold, somewhat betrayed glare, but underneath the disbelief at Will's impulsiveness lay an edge of concern, an uncomfortable edge that Will would refuse to acknowledge.
Back to the countertop. "Okay."
* * *
The drive to Las Vegas hadn't been as laborious as Will had imagined. It hadn't been the first time he'd been forced to sit in his thoughts for several hours—many a time had he laid in bed, sleepless and just straight up sick; sick because he couldn't sleep but not sleeping because he'd been so sick; chest deep in the treacherous waters of his own head, trying to figure out where the sick came from—and by now he'd become a master.
Joyce didn't dare bother Will; even though she'd snuck a few sideways glances at him, subtle concern in her gaze, but Will had been glad she didn't say anything.
Once the landscapes of Vegas came into view and the bright signs (currently dim, since it was still so early in the day) did a better job of signaling they'd arrived than any tour guide could, Joyce sighed in relief and reached out to clap a hand onto Will's shoulder.
"Well, we're here!" she exclaimed, gently placing her hand back onto the steering wheel. "Is it everything you expected?"
"I guess so," Will said, his eyes still on the billboards. "It just looks like California, but if it was like... for sale."
"I hope you'll enjoy it. I can't imagine why you'd choose this over seeing Mike," Joyce looked over at Will, who refused to meet her gaze, and only acknowledged her comment with a meek groan that signaled something similar to a "I don't know."
The motel looked something like a strip mall, but had been close to nearly no other buildings, or at any rate, any sign of civilization. The room was funded by Joyce's company, and Will wondered if John himself picked it out for her, as it was slightly nicer than expected. Save the viridian carpeted floor, the room was wall to ceiling wood panels, and while there was only one bed, it was wide as anything, and there was an end table at either side. The room, including the bathroom tucked away in a back corner, was fairly clean, and all in all, Will didn't find himself regretting his choice so far. It was a bit claustrophobic, sure, but Will didn't spend that much time with his mother back home, and the room held a strangely comforting quality.
Will dropped his bag on the floor by the end of the bed and tried to take Joyce's suitcase as well before she refused. As she stumbled through the door, she took in her surroundings and clicked her tongue.
"It's not too bad, no?"
"No, I kind of like it."
"Thank you, John," Joyce chuckled as she rolled her suitcase to rest next to the T.V. stand that stood across from the bed. She turned around to look at the room again, and then at Will. "Aw, baby, I can sleep on the chair"—she pointed to a particularly rotund, salmon colored velvet armchair placed next to one of the end tables, which Will hadn't noticed until now—"if you want the bed."
"No, it's fine. Seriously. It's a big bed."
"Okay. Well, this is fun!" Joyce clapped a hand on Will's shoulder and shook him slightly. "Like a nice mother-son vacation."
"Yeah," Will smiled, but his mind was elsewhere. Where it was, he didn't really know himself. He turned to look out the window and found himself realizing what a shitty decision he'd made—what was there to do right now, let alone this entire week? It was only around eleven-thirty, so going to sleep wasn't an option, especially since Will had already tried to sleep in the car and failed miserably.
"Hey, I know, driving in I saw some sort of skate park down the street. You can go there, maybe meet some kids your age. There was a convenience store type building near it too," Joyce spoke, clearly aware of Will's dilemma.
"Really? Should I?" Will looked back at Joyce, who wielded a worried look on her face, likely as she knew her child was both bored and lonely out of his mind.
"Yeah, why not. Feel the sunshine, see the landscapes, make a friend,"
"Yeah, okay." Will said, folding his arms. He knew it'd be pointless to make a friend here when he'd be leaving so soon, but he was at such a loss of anything else to do, and the thought of any positive social interaction was hopeful, so whatever, he'd go.
The walk to the park was harrowing, proven by the way Will had to uncomfortably roll up his sleeves and stop at the convenience store for water before even thinking of sitting outside. However, the park itself showed itself even more distressing, as the only other people nearby were an obnoxious group of teenagers who weren't skating and a father teaching his daughter how to rollerblade. Sitting by himself at a place like this seemed both stupid and embarrassing, but Will figured that since he'd made it all this way, why not stay and, like Joyce said, "feel the sunshine"?
After feeling the sunshine for so long that it'd been nearly gone, Will decided it was probably time to go home. Disappointed and slightly dejected, he walked home, thankfully without sweating this time.
"So? Meet any cool kids?" Joyce asked from the bed, laying on top of the covers and surfing through television channels.
"Eh, no, not really," Will said, then, as to not make Joyce feel bad for sending him out there—"It was really pretty, though. The walk."
"Well, that's nice. I ordered some takeout, if you're hungry," Joyce nodded to the T.V. stand, where a bag of Chinese food sat.
"Okay,"
"Hey, and you know, since you're here," Joyce hesitated—how could she put this—"try not to think about Mike."
Will exhaled through his nose in an attempt at a laugh and sat on the floor by the edge of the bed, watching T.V., but once again, not really watching it. How embarrassing, that she knew, and that he had to be reminded? Will tried not to think of it. Joyce was right, it was better not to, but he couldn't stop himself.
He knew now that leaving was the worst decision he'd ever made; what were Mike and El doing right now? Were they having fun? Definitely more fun than Will was, he thought. It stressed Will out to think of the two of them, together, without him. And what was worst of all, was that he knew they wouldn't think of him the same way. Completely and utterly embarrassing.
* * *
Hours after the sun had set, Joyce had fallen asleep, but the T.V. was still on, and Will was still staring at it. This, he guessed, was his big spring break Saturday night: cross-legged on a motel floor watching car infomercials.
In some act of defiance—against what, Will didn't really know—he turned off the T.V. and stood up. Since there was nothing else to do, he simply walked outside and stood in front of the room's door. He watched as cars passed out on the highway and closed his eyes to take in the sounds and smells. It wasn't a bad place, Las Vegas, only it was nothing like Will had been used to, even from living in California. There was nothing that reminded of him of home, nothing he could cling to, except maybe his mother, but even that was weird, her being here, in the middle of Nevada, so far away from anything before; so far away from anything normal.
Will decided the only thing he could do was sit down on the parking stop next to where Joyce's car was parked. He kicked gravel, he guessed the color of the next oncoming car, he realized how boring that game was with one person, he even tried to sleep, but nothing gave. It was nice, in a way, to just sit and feel the cool breeze of the night. Will folded his arms over his knees and rested his head on them, losing himself in his thoughts, but consciously trying not to get too lost.
What was Mike doing now? Probably sleeping. Wait—where the hell is Mike sleeping? In Will's bed? The thought was energizing enough for Will to pick his head back up: Mike sleeping in his bed, but of course, to his luck, not with him in it. No, what the hell, stop, Will thought. Why would that get him so excited? Don't be stupid. Don't be weird. He's probably sleeping on the couch, you freak.
Desperate to stop whatever was happening in his head, Will called it a night. He brushed himself off as he stood up, and at the same time he could hear someone down the way exit a room—loudly; a male voice exclaiming a passionate goodbye and the slam of a door. The voice he'd heard sounded relatively young, and while Will cringed at the thought of being seen by someone his age, he didn't make an attempt to leave just yet as he'd also been stunned at how lonely it made him feel: the sound of someone who had just seen someone they loved.
Feeling even worse than before, Will started towards the door. The footsteps of the boy down the way grew closer, and in the dark, Will anxiously fumbled for the doorknob. However, before he could get the door open, a voice spoke up.
"Potter?"