Chapter Text
Their car drives through the bumpy asphalt roads, small rays of sunshine just beginning to make its way into the windows. Staring outside, all the surroundings—from the trees to the buildings,—seemed to blend together incomprehensibly.
Though, that may just be from his lack of sleep.
Will shifts uncomfortably in the backseat, his head leaning awkwardly against the walls of the car. “Jon,” he groaned.
“Yeah?” His brother glanced at his sorry state through the rearview mirror.
Although his head was pounding and his vision wasn’t quite clearing up yet, he was sure that Jonathan was driving him to Hawkins High. For what, well… he hasn’t asked.
“Why are we going to school on a Saturday?” he grumbled, sitting up properly to get rid of the static in his eyes.
Jonathan sighed, “You already forgot?”
“Huh?”
Jonathan huffed under his hand, seemingly impatient. “Okay, yesterday after class, I came up to you and asked if you’d be willing to fill in for one of the Theater Club’s tech crew positions,” He explained.
“See, Vickie called in sick, caught a bad fever according to Robin. Without Vickie, there’s no one to handle lights for the play.”
Will nodded, though he could only grasp some of what Jonathan was saying.
“They asked me to get a replacement, only problem was nobody gives a shit about tech crew. But you were willing to take it up, so here we are.” He turned to the left.
“Hmm,” he acknowledged, processing what went through his mind that day.
“Our rehearsals are every week, including weekends. And we have to be there pretty early, sorry about that, by the way.” Jonathan gave him a look of pity.
“So, you remember now?”
“I think so,” Will blinked rapidly, rubbing his eyes harshly. The car’s interior was no longer cloudy. Now, he was left with the clear and unbearable weight of having to go to Hawkins High when he could be painting. He’d be fine if it were literally any other day, because he treats Saturdays as a sacred day to stay in his room and sketch whatever his brain can think up.
“Great, ‘cause we’re almost there.”
Of course they were.
Will redirected his gaze to the slightly condensed window, where rays of golden light were now beginning to seep in. It couldn’t be that bad, he thought. Sure, his plans were wrecked, but this should not be that difficult. Just attend the rehearsals, learn the ropes and go home.
Something Will would only learn later was that dream was to shatter sooner than he would realize.
Jonathan parked in their designated area, and Will successfully kept himself awake enough to get up and head into the building he knew all too well.
As the duo entered the empty hallways, Will noticed the atmosphere was more subdued compared to regular school days. Usually, there would be intense fights in the hallways, with teachers desperately trying to stop them. And of course, the unavoidable ‘cool’ kids shoving less fortunate ones against the cold metal lockers. This school, no matter how hard Will tried to see the good in it, was awful. Suffocating.
Education-wise, it was fine, but the people? Far from it. Only if you blend into the background enough so that you don’t attract any unwanted attention would you be safe.
Being free from the different forms of pain, the building was less stuffy. More relaxed. No unnecessary yelling or conflict, only the entering of unfortunate club members and the janitors fixing the messes made by the students.
Fluorescent ceiling lights hummed happily as the brothers made their way into the auditorium, where Jonathan mentioned they would be practicing for their rehearsals.
Bored and vacant faces greeted (well, not literally.) them upon entrance. Everyone sat on sad, shiny plastic chairs that were carbon copies of the ones they used in class—either staring into the abyss or still half-asleep. Good to know he's not the only one who didn't get enough shuteye. Maybe, if he just quietly sat down and waited, he could squeeze in a good amount of well-deserved rest.
As tempted as he was to do so, a cheery and oddly familiar voice called out to them from across the room. "Byers!" Robin yelled from the stage, where clutters of papers and pens lay on the glistening floor. She tackled Jonathan into a side hug, while giving Will a slightly reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Morning, Robin." Jonathan greeted emotionlessly, lilac circles under his eyes seeming more prominent than before. Looks like everybody's pretty exhausted except for Robin. "This is my brother, Will. He's Vickie's replacement for the time being."
"So you're little Byers!" She stepped back to give him a good look. Though he rarely ran into Robin—aside from the times when she had to drive Jonathan back home when he was too intoxicated to do so himself—something about her quirky personality lifted the mood .
She's pretty well-known, too, having composed many soundtracks for their school's plays or events. No wonder the juniors—notably the girls—liked her so much.
"Yep," he smiled awkwardly.
"Your brother here talks about you a lot," she gave Jonathan a shake on the shoulder. He just raised his eyebrows. "Yearbook designer and artist of Hawkins High, and all that."
Will felt a bit embarrassed being praised, since he usually remains anonymous whilst doing his drawings and designs, but it would be lying if he said it didn't feel nice to get some recognition. "Oh, yeah. I guess I just—I don't know. It's nice to see people enjoy something you poured your heart into. Especially when you love your work." The words flowed out with ease. Strange. He's usually a bit more closed off.
"Wow, that's kinda deep," Her eyes widened. "You. Will. Love. It. Here. What you just said is basically why we do this whole thing! So people can appreciate our art, so they can feel the effort and emotions poured into the project, to.." She went on, slowly leading Will towards the big stage.
"I'm gonna get a coffee." His brother announced, stepping out and leaving Will to Robin's fast-paced and slightly incoherent ramblings.
Eventually, more members shuffled into the spacious room, the chairs being filled up almost completely. The most eye-catching people—either by looks or energy—were a bubbly blonde who looked like she could be a cheerleader, accompanied by a guy with a very metal aesthetic(and a hairdo to match), and a tall boy with black curls, who seemed to sneer at Jonathan.
It was an interesting group of students. Some were so silent you could forget they were there—while others seemed like they could kill with looks alone. Hard to see them getting along, honestly.
After a good amount of waiting, and a lot of backstory from Robin, the bubbly blonde who he learned was named Chrissy said in an authoritative tone, "Alright, everyone, listen up."
Everyone got to their feet, listening intently to Chrissy. She explained their scenes, how everyone was going to enter, and a lot of other things Will couldn't catch by just how quick she was at explaining the mechanics. She must be the director. Once she was done, everyone promptly got into their positions, on standby until further notice.
Jonathan was working on Special Effects, while Will was in charge of Lighting. He and Robin showed Will the basics and filled him in on what he needed to flip or press depending on the scene—even gave him a copy of the script. Long story short, it was about a knight who saves this town and, like, a princess. Pretty basic stuff. Still, anxiety rushed through him, making his hands shake slightly. The panel in front with its imposing assortment of buttons and switches weren't helping to ease him. Just one wrong move, and I'd screw it all up.
But he doesn't have time to get ready, that was earlier. It's all up to what happens right now.
"...And, action!" Chrissy called, her voice echoing.
The scene started with Eddie, the metalhead, delivering a serious line that felt so genuine, it made Will forget how loud and full of energy he was earlier.
Right off the bat, Will could see that this was going to be a good performance. Well, given that the others matched up to or were better than Eddie.
He watched intently, taking in what he was saying. Although he read the beginning of the script beforehand, seeing it come to life was something else entirely.
"And light pans to Jake," Will complied, shifting the spotlight to Jake, who was playing one of the main characters. Jonathan accompanied the shift with sound effects, giving the transition more life.
A few more lines were delivered, and more people made their way onto the stage, slowly progressing the narrative.
Will immersed himself in the interaction between the actors, seeing the shift in their expressions and the little gestures they made. God, theater truly is a wonder. He should have done this sooner.
"...to Mike." Chrissy's voice interrupted Will's thoughts. Shit, his hands were shaky again, but with urgency. Instead of flicking the 21st switch, he ended up pressing a button that made all the stage lights go off, making the stage and those acting barely visible.
"Fuck." He muttered.
"Oh my god, who let this amateur in here?" Mike—who much to Will's dismay was playing the lead—yelled from the side of the stage. Although he couldn't see him, the sheer annoyance in his tone was enough to make Will feel even more anxious.
As he frantically flipped the lights back on, Mike kept going, even stepping to the front of the stage. "See, I told you we shouldn't have replaced Vickie. Jonathan, this is your fault." He sighed, and Will sensed an eye roll following it.
Just as Jonathan was opening his mouth to presumably curse at the boy, a voice of reason spoke. "Hey, lay off the kid." Chrissy said gently, tone resembling that of Will's mom. "Probably just the first-day jitters. Everything okay up there?" She called out to him.
"Yeah, really sorry."
She gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's alright. Okay, everyone, from the top." Mike sighed in exasperation, shooting Will a menacing glare.
Scratch that earlier thought, Will wants to go home. Really badly.
Not like he was afraid of that guy, far from it, actually. He's kind of pissed. Amateur, sure, he could take that hit. But going for Jonathan? Who the hell does he think he is?
While everyone readied themselves and got back into position, Will and Jonathan exchanged looks. Will rolled his eyes and gestured to Mike, shrugging, trying to say How the hell do you put up with that guy?
Jonathan shook his head. I'll explain later, he mouthed, giving Will an apologetic smile.
Chrissy cleared her throat and reconfirmed if everyone was ready. Silence fell, and she spoke. "Okay, take two. Action!"
The dialogues came out almost exactly the same, and Will made sure to do his job right. Pay attention, pan the lights. Flip the right switches.
Then came his chance at redemption, Mike's entrance. The blue spotlight fell under the boy, following his movements.
"Say, who is this girl you speak of?" he started.
For whatever reason, when the boy started delivering his lines, Will felt more immersed than before.
There was something about his performance in particular. For the rest of their rehearsal, up until their break time, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from Mike. Though he didn't want to admit it, the acting was spot on. Charming, even.
...But if he had any semblance of a positive thought about that jerk, it was quickly destroyed by Mike himself. He had the nerve to come up to Will and ask if he was impressed. Egotistical ass. Not only that, but he talked about how they "don't have the time for constant screw-ups" or whatever. It. Was. Once. For God's sake.
He came up to Jonathan during their break to check on him, since he looked pretty drained since this morning. And to get some more information on this Mike guy's deal and whatnot.
Will took a seat next to Jonathan, handing him a cold bottle of water. "Thanks," he sighed.
"You okay?"
Jonathan smiled. "That's my line."
Will gave Jonathan a weak punch on the shoulder. "Seriously." Jonathan sipped his water slowly, "Yeah," he exhaled. "Just a normal day in the Theater Club."
"Normal?" Will raised an eyebrow in doubt.
"Mhm. Though, it's somewhat more peaceful the first few days. People don't start trying to kill each other or screaming until later on." He said it so matter-of-factly, Will couldn't find an ounce of humor in it.
"God, how do you put up with... people like him?" he nodded his head to Mike's direction, where he was mindlessly scrolling on his phone—which upon further observation, was the latest Apple model or something. And that sweater looks like a designer brand. So, Will can conclude he's pretty rich. No wonder he's an asshole.
Jonathan squinted at Mike, slowly shifting into an irritated glare. "Ah. Mike. Honestly, sometimes I want to strangle him."
“Sometimes?” They both chuckled.
"I do have to tolerate him, though. Since he's our best cast member."
"Him? Really?" Will stared, dumbfounded, even though he saw with his own eyes that it was true. But why did the best actor have to be a pain in the neck? "I know. You just get used to it, eventually."
“And, he’s Nancy’s younger brother. Only she can do the strangling.”
Someone like Nancy—responsible, rational, kind Nancy who once stayed at their house for two nights in a row to take care of Will when he had a fever while his mom and brother were out, working—related to that? This just gets more unbelievable by the second. How does an actual saint have a gremlin of a brother?
"That's... unfortunate." he leaned in his chair, closing his eyes and shutting everything out for a minute.
When Will sat back up, he asked, "Hey, so, until when do you guys have to rehearse for this play?"
"That depends. Maybe three, four months minimum." Jonathan shrugged.
Will's jaw hung open. "Months?!"
His brother laughed, "Yeah. Though, we like to call it twelve or sixteen weeks to make it seem shorter. It's a lot of work putting all of this together. Most people wouldn't expect us to take so long with prep and all." Jonathan exhaled. "It actually goes by pretty fast," he said solemnly.
Will just nodded, still in a state of culture shock the day has brought. This whole process is normal to them, their daily routine whenever they produce a play. And they don't even do it for the money.
Scanning around the room, Robin and Chrissy laughed, Eddie went up to his usual antics, and the rest slept or chatted on. The dedication they had sure was something. Inspiring.
Will's not even part of this club, he shouldn't start getting all sappy or anything.
He spent the rest of their peaceful(by his standards, peaceful is occasional bursts of laughter and screams breaking the silence) breaktime talking to Jonathan—and Robin when she stopped by them to ask how they were and how Will was finding their club so far. A few people gave him a slightly reassuring pat on the back, too, for having to suffer interacting with Wheeler. Then of course, they ran more practice runs for about three more hours.
By the end of rehearsal, Will could hardly feel his hands, or his legs, which were numb from standing in front of the tall panel. "Get home safe, everyone. And rest up for tomorrow." Robin waved, running out the doors like a child. As Will was making his way out, Chrissy stopped next to him. "Hey, pretty good work today, newbie." She smiled warmly. Not out of pity, but genuinely.
"Some people say otherwise." He tugged the strap of his backpack, the memory of his little screw-up playing over and over in his mind.
Chrissy leaned against the wall, avoiding dry paint peelings that never seemed to go away. "Just ignore Mike, he's not so welcoming to new people. He's not usually so hostile."
He nodded. "Thanks, by the way."
"What for?" Her eyes seemed to glimmer under the lights.
Will shrugged. "Just, you know. Being understanding and nice."
"That's called the bare minimum, little Byers." She sprung off the wall, ponytail bouncing. "Well, see you tomorrow."
He waved as she walked away, intertwining her hand with Eddie's. He gave Will an acknowledging nod as they left.
Will made his way into the squeaky halls once more, waiting for his brother to wrap up in the auditorium. People from the Theater Club passed him by, and he waved politely when they did.
And then Mike passed by.
He averted his eyes for a moment. Mike only glanced at him, before continuing his exit.
Will didn't realize he wasn't breathing until the sharp exhale he let out when Jonathan finally caught up to him.
"Let's go?" He jingled the car keys in his hand.
Finally being free, Will nodded off in the car as Jonathan drove them home, occasionally yawning. Home, where Jane would be waiting, where his mom would probably be baking something again from that cookbook she got at a sale, where he could lose consciousness on his mattress, or sketch to his heart's content.
Will knocked on the wooden door three times. Hurried footsteps descended, and Jane instantly lit up as she flung open the door. "Welcome back!" She hugged her brothers quickly, before closing the door as they stepped in.
Jane trailed behind them, still in her pajamas. "You guys look awful. Something happen?" She furrowed her eyebrows.
"Not really, just getting used to Jon and the club's routine. There was this annoying guy, too. But he's not that important." Will slid off his shoes and dropped his backpack, making a light thudding sound.
She nodded and gave him an almost pitiful smile. "Well, screw that guy!" They both laughed.
"I'll go up and sleep some more." Jonathan yawned, ascending up the creaky stairs.
"Got it, we'll wake you up for dinner." Jane smiled again. "You should go get some rest too, Will."
"I will. Thanks, Jane." He retreated to his room for the time being, room door softly clicking shut behind him. A breath of relief escaped Will as he threw himself onto the bed, his body feeling heavy.
Will quietly thought to himself as he tried drifting off, about today. About Robin, Chrissy, Eddie. And Mike, regretfully enough.
He's around 70% sure he hates Mike's guts. The opposing thirty only coming from the performance he gave. Maybe there's something he just doesn't know yet. Maybe not.
Whatever, he decided. What he knew was that Mike was an asshole from first impressions. No use in dwelling on it.
But as he softly drifted off, a twinge of doubt welled in him. Maybe it was trying to tell him something, but he'd figure it out soon enough.