Chapter Text
“Let me get this straight. So, on your birthday, you all went out together, but instead of celebrating with you, they just… ignored you?” Chance, sitting across the table, pulled a disbelieving face.
Will was pretty sure they were the only two idiots in Hawkins willing to get up on a cold day and go out for ice cream. A new Scoops Ahoy had opened in town after Starcourt Mall was closed to the public. They’d kept the same color scheme and aesthetic, but it was way less busy. The employee had practically jumped when they walked in.
The first time Chance saw him had been at a science fair at Lenora Middle School. Chance had just been passing through town, visiting his aunt or something, and after interacting with Will once, he spent the next few days trying (failing) to flirt with him without sounding too weird. But Will had seemed genuinely bothered by his presence. Only later did Chance realize that Byers thought he was being mocked.
And he wanted to clear that up.
He didn’t know if it was the courage that came from knowing he wouldn’t be back in California anytime soon (and wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of his actions) or if he had just never been very good at keeping his feelings to himself.
He just knew that the next time they met, in a forgotten art room after school, Chance kissed him.
And that might have been the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
But the look of surprise on Will’s face made him laugh so hard he had to apologize afterward.
“I like you. I really like you. Sorry, this is probably really weird, because, well—we haven’t known each other that long, right? And, um… I don’t—I mean, I don’t even know if you like guys, so if you don’t, then that was probably really wrong, but… I don’t know. It just felt like something I had to do.”
Byers’s face was still red as he touched his fingertips to his lips. Still silent.
“Oh my God, I hope you don’t hate me,” he ended up saying out loud—a thought that definitely should’ve stayed in his head.
But then the boy in front of him laughed.
And the sound was so soft. So light. So beautiful.
“So that’s why you’ve been looking at me like that for the past three days? And trying to convince me to go out with you?” Will said, but there was no malice in his tone.
And Chance couldn’t help laughing a little too, more out of nervousness than anything else.
“I must’ve looked like a complete psycho, huh? Sorry about that.”
During the week Chance was in Lenora, they were practically glued to each other. He showed Will places he hadn’t been to yet and dragged him along to all kinds of outings. Chance was his first friend there. His only friend, actually. Will couldn’t think about California without thinking about him.
Will liked him a lot, and before he had ever been a fleeting summer crush, he had been his friend.
So you can imagine Will’s confusion when he realized that one of the guys in the asshole group was the same boy he’d been making out with the year before. And in that moment, during the first week back at school, Chance seemed to realize it too, because when their eyes met, his face went pale and Will saw the exact moment the memory rearranged itself in his head.
They stared at each other in disbelief while their respective friend groups kept arguing around them.
There wasn’t hostility between them, not really, but the beginning of something too big to ignore. And, strangely, too intimate to be simple.
For a while, Chance didn’t try to talk to Will, and Will pretended he didn’t know him either.
Because Chance ran with the jocks. And Will belonged with the outcasts. Any interaction between them was supposed to be stained by the tension between their groups. It was a strong logic, but it didn’t last very long.
Somehow, they found a way to communicate, through a kind of unspoken agreement, meeting every now and then in secret, just to talk. Sometimes Will needed to talk to someone who didn’t know everything he’d been through (go ahead and judge him, but it made him feel a little more normal). And Chance needed someone who knew what he was and talking to Byers was a relief, even if they weren’t anything romantic.
They were each other’s dirty little secret, and the dynamic worked for both of them. No one got hurt.
And that’s what brings them to today, sitting in the ice cream shop.
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“Oh my God, Will! You poor thing! If I were you, I’d feel like absolute trash.”
“Well, I wasn’t feeling like trash, but if you keep tearing me apart like this, I might as well go outside and throw myself in front of the next car that passes.”
“So, you said your sister was the one who commissioned the painting and asked you to deliver it to him?” he continued, not giving much weight to the suicidal threat.
“Yeah.”
“And even after they broke up, you didn’t tell him?”
“No. I didn’t tell him anything,” Will admitted.
“God… yeah, I figured.” Chance took another sip of his milkshake. He tried to hold it back but couldn’t.
“You’re not… you’re not going to tell him, are you? I mean… you’re never going to tell him? Is that it?”
“Yeah,” Will answered after a moment, keeping his eyes down, as if the answer were somewhere on the table. “Maybe I never will.”
Chance let out a low sigh, the kind that carries more frustration than exhaustion, and pushed his cup aside with a distracted motion. At the same time, Will looked away and pretended to focus on his ice cream, stirring it more than actually eating it.
“Will… how do you do that?” Chance asked, his voice softer now, but still filled with disbelief. “I really don’t get it.”
Will took a moment to answer, as if organizing an explanation he’d already given before, but that never seemed enough. “I’ve already told you, Chance. I don’t know how to deal with risks.”
Chance let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “Risk of what, Will? You’re not with him. You have nothing to lose. The worst that could happen is things stay exactly the same… without him.”
“That’s not true. I have a good friendship with him. Mike is my friend… he’s my best friend. We used to talk almost every day. If I tell him and he doesn’t feel the same way, he might feel awful for hurting me. Or I might not be able to talk to him the same way anymore. I could create distance between us. And that would be really weird. The way things are now, I have half of what I want. I don’t want to risk what I have and end up with nothing.”
Will pressed his lips together for a second before continuing, that familiar discomfort settling in his chest. “Besides, I think he doesn’t feel the same,” he said finally, with a calmness that felt rehearsed. “If he did, he would’ve said something by now.”
Chance raised an eyebrow immediately, not letting that slide. “But you didn’t say anything either.”
“Or I would’ve noticed,” Will shot back, too quickly, like he needed that answer ready so he wouldn’t have to think any further.
“But he didn’t notice either,” Chance countered, leaning forward slightly, persistent, like he refused to let the conversation die there.
Will exhaled slowly, dragging his spoon through the ice cream without really looking at it, clearly trying to end it before he had to face something he didn’t want to name.
“Chance, look… I know you’d do things differently if you were in my place—”
“Without a doubt,” Chance cuts in immediately.
“—but I’m not you,” Will continues, lifting his gaze just enough to hold his for a second. “I’m me, okay? And for me, this is already complicated enough.” He pauses briefly, just enough to soften his tone, but not enough to open the door for another argument. “Can we just… drop it for now?”
There’s a short silence between them, heavy with the kind of thing that doesn’t get resolved, just tucked away.
“…Fine,” Chance finally relents, though the answer comes with a restrained sigh, like someone backing off without actually agreeing.
They sit in silence for a few more seconds.
“And your friends didn’t even send you a cheap little birthday card?”
Will lets out an audible sigh, because there it is. That stupid, beautiful face of Chance’s, conveying something that doesn’t even need to be said out loud to be understood.
What happened to you sucks. Your friends suck. You deserve better people in your life.
That’s what Will sees in his eyes.
Of course, it’s hard for an outsider to understand the situation. Because, really, if you leave out the part where Vecna messed with everyone’s memory and made them forget Will’s birthday, then yeah, it just looks like they’re terrible friends. Will wishes he could argue, but what is he supposed to tell Chance? That everyone he loves was under the mental influence of a psychic human turned monster after being banished to another dimension? And that, for some reason, targed him for years?
“Chance, please…” he murmurs, already tired.
“Okay, okay!”
He tries not to think about how it felt back then, before he knew it was Vecna, when he thought everyone had forgotten because they hated him. He focuses on his restless hands on the table, noticing the burn behind his eyes. He tries to stop, he really does, but then the urge to let everything out crashes into his chest like an avalanche.
“You want to hear something pathetic, Chance?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “I used to have these thoughts, you know? I still do, sometimes. I imagine Mike coming up to me and telling me he knows how I feel and that he feels the same way…”
And in that moment, Will realizes that what he wants most in the world is simply to cry.
“Don’t be sad, Will,” Chance says softly.
The tears spill over. And they keep coming for a while. As long as they need to. Until there’s nothing left.
Chance moves closer and sits beside him, keeping one hand under his the whole time, firm enough to be an anchor, but not tight enough to feel like he’s holding him there. More than once, Will has the impression that he could just pull away from the touch, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans his head until it rests against Chance’s shoulder.
“Well… does it have to be this Wheeler guy?” With one hand, Chance grabs a napkin from the table and hands it to Will to wipe his tears, while the other gently strokes the back of his hair. “You know, there are bigger fish in the sea…”
There’s a calmness in his expression that Will can’t fully understand. His behavior, the suggestions hidden in his words… they’re all things that would normally make him uncomfortable, or embarrassed. But not with Chance.
“Like who?” he says lightly. “Like you?”
“Bingo!” Chance exclaims, pointing at himself. “Exhibit A: your perfect boyfriend, right here.”
“Chance, I’m serious. It’s already hard enough for people like us to even have the chance to… experience things… with someone we love.”
“You can have those experiences,” he says right after Will, dragging out the last word slightly, like he’s hinting at something more. His skin feels so warm that Will wonders if Chance can feel the heat radiating off him, and if he didn’t know better, he’d say Chance looks a little amused.
“Chance!” he whispers. “What do you think you’re suggesting?”
“It’s simple: I date you, Byers. We already have history, and we’re pretty good at meeting in secret.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Will says, trying to sound sarcastic.
“I’m serious! Will, you were my awakening into this wonderful world of kissing boys, you know? I want to return the favor.”
“I don’t need someone to date me out of pity, Chance. I don’t want anything fake.”
“Well, who said it has to be fake?”
“What?”
“You don’t have to feel anything right now. We start going out, and somewhere along the way, we fall in love. Believe it or not, even I’m sometimes impressed by my ability to be lovable.”
“That’s a terrible plan.” Despite himself, a small smile tugs at the corner of Will’s mouth.
“I’m serious, Will. This Wheeler guy has no idea how lucky he is. Being loved the way you love him—that’s an honor. A gift. Not an inconvenience.”
And the words hit him. Really hit him. His chest warms, and now he’s actually smiling, even with tear tracks still on his face.
“Is this some kind of trick to make me fall for you?” Will jokes. “Because it feels a little performative.”
“Well… is it working?”
“Idiot.” Will laughs, then adds more quietly, almost to himself, “I really wish I could fall for you, Chance. It’d be a lot easier.”
“I’m available if you want to try my idea. Anytime, really.” Will shoots him another disapproving look, which Chance completely ignores. “Your birthday’s in a week, right? What do you say? Want to have a boyfriend for your birthday?”
The idea is so absurd that Will almost laughs and ends up choking on his own spit. “Weren’t you seeing that Stacy girl?”
“Will!” Chance practically jolts at the name. “Who told you that?!” he asks, dramatically offended.
“Rumors spread like wildfire. You know that.”
“Meh, I might hook up with a few girls here and there. But at the snap of your fingers, they’re gone from my life, okay?” He lifts his head and glances around, the employee had gone to the back; there was no one else there. Perfect. Chance leans in and presses a kiss to the top of Will’s head. “I’ll call you later this week to convince you. You’ll see.”
“Okay.” Will highly doubts it, even though he can’t really detect any malice in his words.
—
It’s been days since Mike has been acting weird around him. Almost nervous, if Will had to guess. He barely looked him in the eye, avoided physical contact, and it was practically impossible for them to be alone in the same room for more than five seconds. Of course, he tried to make it seem unintentional, but Will knew better than that. They had never needed many words to understand each other. And this damn silence didn’t make sense at all.
Maybe he’s acting strange because he finally realized.
And he was behaving that way as a way of telling Will he had ruined everything. But Will was going to keep pretending he didn’t know what it was about, and they would keep up this dance until one of them crossed the line and the bomb finally went off.
So now, with everyone playing in Mike’s basement, the tension is, at least, bearable. But it won’t take long before the others notice too.
“I’m gonna get some water,” Jane says, and right after that Max stands up behind her. “Me too.”
Mike is on the other side of the table, and Will tries to pay attention to Dustin’s story, but he can feel the boy’s gaze burning into him. When he looks back, for half a second, their eyes meet and Mike is the first to look away. Will feels like he should look away too, but he can’t. He watches the boy in front of him staring at the floor for a few more seconds, until Mike suddenly gets up and heads for the stairs.
“Wow, man. Where are you going?”
“I need to use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” And then he’s gone.
That leaves him alone with Dustin and Lucas, and judging by the way Dustin shifts, he’s been waiting for this.
“Okay,” he says, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t gonna say anything.”
Lucas, sitting next to Will, discards a card like he already knows this is going to be trouble. “Then don’t,” he suggests.
“No, because I am the only one here with a functioning brain.”
“This is already off to a bad start,” Lucas mutters.
Dustin raises a finger dramatically. “Okay. I have a theory.”
“Every time you start a sentence like that, someone gets embarrassed.” Lucas doesn’t even look up.
“No, this time I’m serious. I’ve been observing things.”
“So what’s the theory?” Will lets out a quiet laugh.
Dustin goes silent. Dramatic silence. He looks at both of them like he’s about to reveal the combination to a safe.
“Mike is in love.”
Silence.
“Wow. Sherlock Holmes, you’ve figured out that an eighteen-year-old might have feelings. Groundbreaking.”
“No, you guys don’t get it. I’ve observed patterns. Strange behavior. He’s been distant. I analyzed his behavior.”
“Analyzed?” Will tries to keep his tone light.
“Yeah. First: he’s been acting weird for days.”
Lucas shrugs. “What definition of ‘weird’ are you using? We’re talking about Mike. He’s always been weird. We all are.”
“No, a different kind of weird. Quiet weird. Like… thoughtful.”
Will feels his stomach tighten a little. He had noticed it too.
Dustin keeps going, counting on his fingers. “Second: he started sighing.”
“People breathe, Dustin,” Lucas says.
“Not like that! He sighs while staring at nothing. He sighs when someone mentions a certain name…”
“A certain name?”
Dustin raises his finger again. “Third point.”
He lowers his voice like he’s revealing a state secret.
“He started talking to El.”
Will blinks. “Talking?”
“Yeah.”
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “They’ve always talked. The breakup was chill.”
“Not like this!” Dustin says, frustrated with the interruptions.
And, oh. Of course. Of course it was that.
It made sense. It was comfortable. It was logical. He had loved Jane before. Jane was easy to love. Jane was safe. Effortlessly beautiful.
Will swallowed hard and forced a smile as Dustin pointed at the two of them like he was wrapping up a trial, delivering the words Will had been dreading.
“He still likes her.”
He felt something inside his chest slowly sink. It was strange. Because a part of him, that small, ridiculous part he tried to ignore, had started to believe in another possibility.
Now everything seemed ridiculously obvious.
Of course. Mike wasn’t acting weird because of him. He was acting weird because he still liked Jane. And Jane was his sister.
Of course it wasn’t about you.
—
Will stayed sitting alone at the dining table for another half hour, unconsciously waiting for the phone to ring, even though he logically knew that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.
He desperately wanted to pick up the conversation with Chance again. He really did, and he knew it. As if he needed confirmation that he could be loved, that someone was capable of loving him. And he knew that wasn’t right, given the history of his friend groups. But he couldn’t think of a way to fix that mistake. Will felt small, because it was useless to pretend he didn’t feel anything for Mike anymore when his heart ached like this. But what could he do?
“Unrequited love feels like the truest kind because it never breaks, but that doesn’t make it the love you deserve, okay, Will?”Robin had told him that once.
“You don’t have to spend your life carrying a feeling for someone that will never choose you, because you’re still young, and you’re going to love again, differently from this kind of love, you know? Because this love you feel for Mike belongs only to him. But you’ll be able to love someone else, and that love will be more alive, more mutual and you’ll be loved back without having to beg in silence.”
He cries every time he remembers that conversation. Robin is right. He can’t hold on to someone who isn’t going to choose him.
—
Later, at six in the evening, Chance finally called, and Jane was the closest one to the phone.
“Hello…?”
“Hey!” an energetic voice replied. “You don’t sound like Will… is he home?”
She covers the phone as she calls out, “Will! It’s for you!”
He hurries over and closes his eyes for a second when he recognizes the voice, he couldn’t deny the small wave of relief that crossed his chest when he realized it was him.
“Oh! It’s you, Chance!”
“Wow.” He lets out a dramatic sigh. “Such a warm welcome. I spent the whole morning thinking about my love and this is the enthusiasm I get, I’m practically melting here, Will.”
Will rests his forehead against the wall, ignoring the boy’s theatrics. “Can I ask you something?”
He hears Chance’s tone shift, more serious now, like he’s worried. “Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?”
“Look…” he starts, hesitant. “About yesterday, at Scoops Ahoy...” He closes his eyes, embarrassed.
“Yeah…?”
“Is your offer still on the table?” That must have sounded too vague, so he clarifies slowly, feeling the next words burn with embarrassment. “You know… about being my boyfriend… for a day.”
There’s a brief silence on the other end of the line. Oh no. You idiot, Will. He was joking and now you’re making a fool of yourself, humiliating yourself like this. You just ruined your friendship with the only queer guy you know and now you have to move cities, change schools, and never see him again—
“Of course it is! You bet!”
“Really?” Will asks, instantly regretting the uncertainty slipping into his voice. “You really mean it, Chance?”
“Of course… what made you change your mind?”
“I’ll explain better later… Can you come over to my house today?”
“Oh my God,” his voice turns more excited, “we haven’t even properly started dating and you’re already inviting me over, Byers??? Jesus Christ, at least buy me dinner first.”
“What?” He’s grateful this is over the phone, because his face immediately heats up. “Chance! That’s not it!”
After laughing at the poor boy, Chance explains, “Sorry, I’ve got practice today. I should actually already be there.”
Will turns even redder, he thinks. Because if Chance was late, then it meant he chose to talk to Will instead of prioritizing basketball.
“Listen, tomorrow there’s a party at Andy’s house, to celebrate the team’s win. You can come, and we’ll talk better.”
“What win? Isn’t your game tomorrow?”
“Yeah, and the party’s right after, at Andy’s place.”
“You guys already planned a party without knowing if you’ll win?” Will lets out a small laugh. “Wow, that’s confidence.”
“If you show up to cheer for me, I’m sure I’ll carry the team to victory.”
Will smiles, genuinely this time. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
And he can hear the smile in Chance’s voice too. “Alright then, it’s a date.”
—
“Of course I’ll go,” Jane replied from across the room, dropping whatever she was doing. “Classes are basically over anyway, and we hardly ever go out together. Funny, right? I’m usually the one trying to drag you to some party…”
Will sighed, running a hand over the back of his neck, like he was about to ask for an impossible favor.
“It’s just… I don’t want to go alone, Jane,” he murmured. “Going out for a walk is one thing, going somewhere with people our age in a town that hated me for a long time is another.” He crosses his arms, shoulders pulling forward a little uncertainly. “Robin practically forced me. Senior year, graduation coming up… she thinks I’ll regret it if I don’t go,” he says, and he doesn’t feel guilty, because it wasn’t a lie.
Robin had told him to go to as many parties as he could. And to kiss as many guys as possible, and he was starting to take those words seriously even if she’d said it jokingly.
“We’ve never really shown up to these things. I thought… if you came with me, it’d be easier. We can just stay a bit and leave…”
She raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh.
“I already said I’ll go, Will. Relax. At the end of the day, it’s just a party.” She shrugged. “And I doubt it’s more dangerous than saving the world and all that. Now, why can’t the party know, though? I don’t get why you want to keep it from our friends.”
“It’s not lying,” he begins explaining, “it’s just… not telling them. Think of it as an adventure.”
After everything that happened in Hawkins, any teenager was desperate for some sense of normalcy, and to do, well, teenage things. Everyone was excited to take part in senior year parties.
Will was excited too, but he had his reservations.
He knew people at school weren’t as cruel to him as they used to be, but that didn’t mean they were kind, either.
Still, as much as he hated social interactions and parties and anything that involved people from Hawkins, he realized one night wouldn’t kill him.
Besides, Chance and Jane would be there with him, so at least he wouldn’t be alone. It would be good for Jane too, to have these teenage experiences.
He stepped closer slowly and looked her in the eyes. “Are you sure you don’t want to call Mike? Or go over to his place, with the rest of the party?”
He gets a grimace in response and can’t hold back a laugh.
“Okay. Message received.”
—
The members of the basketball team are all gathered close together, energized by the excitement around them. He looks around a bit more and finds him. Chance. He must be staring too obviously, because the boy looks right back at him. Will thinks about looking away, but doesn’t.
Chance gives him a small wave, and Will shyly returns it with a more restrained one. The other boy’s face lights up so much that Will has to bite his lip to keep from smiling.
“Who was that?” Jane asks, sitting beside him on the bleachers.
“I don’t know.”
And then the game starts.
—
“Oh my God, number 22 showed up really inspired today!” someone says loudly enough for Will to hear, despite the noise of the court.
—
The Tigers win. Chance was responsible for at least a third of the final score.
—
The drink was way too bitter to be soda, and this had to be the third cup Will had accepted. Or maybe the fourth.
His worry about Jane turned out to be unnecessary: she had quickly blended in with a group of girls and seemed genuinely happy, chatting about whatever they were talking about.
Still, in the middle of all that, her eyes found Will’s from across the room, and the small nod that followed was subtle enough to go unnoticed by anyone else, but clear enough for Will to understand exactly what it meant: I'm fine, I can handle this. Go have fun too.
He slipped out quietly, the way he had learned to do, escaping through the door that led to the backyard before anyone could call him back. And now he was out there, wrapped in the calm dimness that contrasted with the muffled noise coming from inside, holding the cup more out of habit than desire. The window beside him, lit from within, worked like a frame, an improvised screen where the party kept going. And for a moment, Will allowed himself to stay there, standing in the dark like someone sitting in an audience, watching everything from a distance without really being part of it.
Then the “screen” shifts.
A silhouette crosses the lit frame and starts getting closer, at first indistinct, then more defined as it steps through the door and leaves the light behind.
“Hey,” Chance says, with that easy casualness that seems natural to him, as if there’s nothing strange about crossing an entire party just to find him out there. “Is this a private party? Why didn’t you invite me?”
The light from inside still partially reaches his face, tracing his features as he approaches, and there’s a smile there, subtle and direct, that doesn’t leave much doubt about why he’s there.
“Well,” Will replies, trying to match his tone, even if a bit more restrained, “hey.”
Chance tilts his head slightly, as if assessing something he doesn’t say out loud, and then takes another step forward, closing the distance between them with an ease that’s almost dangerous.
“Wouldn’t you rather discuss our terms somewhere a little more private… maybe?”
—
He had felt a little numb since the night Dustin had brought up that infernal theory that stole his peace. But now he felt everything. It was like he felt more than ever. He felt the heat spreading through his body and face, and he felt the strong arms beginning to wrap around him.
He clung tightly to the chest that held him. The warmth of that strong body set him ablaze, and his lips pressed almost desperately against that warm skin, carrying the faint scent of cologne. A thin chain brushed against his face, and Will lifted his head, offering his lips, damp, eager, desperate.
A wonderful mouth met his, while the strength of those arms pulled him closer with intensity. He felt like he was dying of happiness, and the world faded away as the beloved name burst in his mind like a chorus of angels.
Chance, Chance, Chance.
—
“Will? Are you in there?” El calls from the other side, insisting with small knocks on the door, as if trying to measure his presence through sound.
For a moment, there’s no response, and the silence on the other side seems to stretch a little longer than it should until the doorknob finally turns.
When the door opens, it’s not Will who appears first.
A boy passes too quickly through the doorway, nearly bumping into her on the way out, murmuring a rushed greeting that El can barely process; she doesn’t even properly make out his face, just the blur and the urgent movement of someone who wants to leave as fast as possible.
Only after that does Will appear.
He steps into her view slowly, as if he hesitated for a second longer before showing himself, and there’s something about him that makes El frown slightly, without quite knowing why.
“Hey, Jane,” he says, with an immediate smile, too quick, as if it had been put there in a hurry. “Do you want to go home?”
There’s an excitement in his voice that doesn’t quite fit the scene, a tone just a little too high, too light, and the more El watches, the more she notices the small details out of place.
Messy. That’s the only word she can find to describe it.
“Yeah… Jon already came to pick us up,” she replies, still watching him closely, as if trying to piece together a puzzle without all the pieces. “He’s out front.”
“Right,” Will answers immediately, not leaving room for anything else, keeping his smile firmly in place. “Let’s go, then.”
He’s already starting to move, as if the conversation had ended before it even began.
Jane stays still for a moment, watching him, feeling that small flicker of suspicion quietly grow inside her. But in the end, she says nothing, just follows him.
—
“Will, what were you doing locked in there with that boy?”
He turns his head so abruptly that El feels like his neck might snap.
“Jane! Keep your voice down, please!” he tries to exclaim in a whisper. Everyone at home was already asleep at that hour, and Jonathan was still too close by.
“Will, what were you doing locked in a room with a boy in the middle of the party?” she repeats, this time lowering her voice to match the hush Will demanded.
“He’s… a friend…”
“Since when are you two friends?”
“Since… uh, California?”
“I never saw that boy in Lenora.”
“Jane,” Will begins, “you know when there was that science fair? And I spent a whole week getting ready?”
“Oh, yeah. Jon and I thought you were seeing a girl. You kept smiling at nothing and sighing.”
“I wasn’t seeing a girl.”
“Yeah. We know that now.”
“I was with him,” Will says, as if that explains everything. “His name is Chance,” he adds after a moment.
“And why did you have to lock yourself in with your friend Chance just to talk?” she asks, suddenly remembering how it had been practically impossible to understand what the girls were saying with the loud music. “Was it because of the noise? Wouldn’t it have been easier to talk to him outside, in the yard?”
Jane feels like she should have understood already, from the look of expectation on her brother’s face. He must have noticed her confusion, because he starts explaining again.
“Jane, he’s a very special friend,” he says softly, his eyes shining with a strange look that Jane’s limited vocabulary can’t quite name. “A very, very special friend.”
She studies Will’s flushed, slightly sweaty face for a few more seconds, the way he’s smiling at her, soft and bright at the same time, waiting patiently for her reaction.
Then it hits her all at once.
“Oh!”
“Yeah. Oh.” Will is still smiling. His eyes are shining, and Jane thinks this is the first time she’s seen her brother this happy in months. She sets aside the shock and lets herself be carried by his joy, laughing too. Now they’re both holding each other’s hands.
“Will, this is— wow… I, um, I don’t even know what to say…” she pauses for a second and looks more deeply into his eyes. “Are you…” in love?—that’s what she wants to ask, but she doesn’t dare. “Does he make you happy? Is he… nice?”
“Yes—oh, Jane… I’ve wanted to tell you this for so long…” he squeezes her hands. “I think I was afraid of how everyone in the group would react…”
And of Mike, Jane thinks. He wouldn’t react well to this. Does Will know that?
“Will, we’re your friends. We’re family. Friends don’t lie, right?”
“Technically, I’m not lying to anyone”—except to myself—“I just left it out.”
“And why? We’re not going to judge you, you know that. We already know you like boys, so at some point you were bound to show up with a boyfriend, right?”
“It’s not that, it’s just…”
“Yes?”
Will’s hands slide up until they rest on his sister’s shoulders. “He used to be part of that group… those idiots who beat up Dustin.” Before she can widen her eyes any further, he quickly adds, “He already apologized! Dustin forgave him!”
“Oh…” El says, because she has no other words.
“Do you get why I don’t want them to know right now? I mean, they’ve already worked things out, but there’s probably still some tension between them.”
He brings his hands together, pleading once again. “Jane, can you keep this a secret, please?”
“You… want me to lie?" She raises an eyebrow.
“No! I wouldn’t do that, I know you’re completely against lying! But please, please, just don’t say anything to anyone. Don’t tell them I’m with Chance.”
She studies the situation for a few more seconds, then makes up her mind. “You don’t have to look like that. Your secret is safe with me.”
Relief washes over him. “Thank you! Thank you, Jane.”
Even before he can hug her, a plan has already started forming in her mind.
—
One thing Jane had gotten really good at over the past few years was the art of carefully analyzing what people said. Will had asked her not to tell anyone that he was with Chance, but he hadn’t said anything about telling someone that he was dating.
And she was fed up with Mike’s nonsense.
If this didn’t make him act, then she had no idea what would.
—
A week earlier
They hadn’t ended things on bad terms, in fact, he thought staying friends had been the best decision they could’ve made. Although Mike had been a little hurt by El during the breakup, and honestly, he couldn’t have asked for anyone more patient than her in helping him understand that.
But their good terms didn’t change the fact that he felt ridiculous with her standing there in his room, and not because he still held any resentment or anything like that, but because that painting now felt too heavy, too exposed, maybe even outdated hanging on the wall.
The fact that he hadn’t taken it down already was embarrassing enough, but with her there, standing right in front of it, it made the awkwardness a thousand times worse.
She was saying something that Mike was trying very hard to pay attention to, but all he could think was what is she going to think of me now? Does she think I haven’t moved on? Have I moved on? Well, it seems like it, but—
But back to the question: why was the painting still there?
And the truth was that Mike simply didn’t know. He had just never managed to take it down. Even the day after the breakup, when he woke up and had to face those figures, the heart on his armor, the colors, the precise strokes, the unspoken declaration, he didn’t have the courage to remove it.
“Glad you don’t think I’m a loser.”
“Well, why would I think you’re one? Besides the usual reasons, I mean.”
He doesn’t want to know what that last part means, so he focuses on answering the question.
“Well, obviously because I never took down the painting you gave me.”
“Painting?” She takes a moment to say the word, like she always does when she’s confused.
“Well, yeah. Please, El—” he keeps his gaze to the side; he really wants to look at her, but the awkwardness of the situation weighs on him, making it hard to lift his head. “Please, I know it’s weird that I still have it hanging up like that, but it doesn’t have to be in a romantic way, right? I know it had an important meaning, and I never really got to thank you properly for the gift, but—”
“Mike,” she interrupts, “what are you talking about?”
It seems those are the words that finally make Mike look straight at her…only to find a lost expression on her face.
“The painting?” he says, somehow sounding even more confused than El. “The painting you commissioned from Will for me?”
He points to the frame in the center of the room, and she follows his gaze, studying it for what feels like thirty minutes, or maybe thirty seconds, or just ten. Mike can’t tell the difference.
“Mike,” she finally replies, speaking slowly, looking him straight in the eyes, “I didn’t ask Will to make any painting.”
For the twentieth time that morning, Mike stared, displeased, at the framed painting on his bedroom wall.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he says. Then he blushes and glances around, as if someone might have heard the embarrassing outburst. Other than Holly, no one was home at the moment.
What Mike said to the painting was more like a sad joke, not really a joke at all.
That was the problem. He felt threatened and insulted by its presence, as if it were mocking him. His foolishness. His obliviousness. There was no denying it.
—
The yellowish light makes the room feel suspended in time, and Mike has been standing by the sink for far too long for someone who clearly doesn’t know what to do with his hands.
Jane is leaning against the counter, watching him while waiting for Max to come out of the bathroom.
“How much longer are you going to stand there pretending you came to get water too?” she asks, unhurried.
“I told them I was going to the bathroom.” Mike exhales through his nose, runs a hand through his hair, and finally turns to face her, wearing that expression of someone who’s tried to organize his thoughts several times and failed every time.
“I need your help,” he says, quieter than usual, as if someone might hear even with the noise coming from downstairs. “I’ve been… weird with him. Like, really weird. I don’t know how to act now.”
Jane doesn’t answer right away. She just looks at him, waiting for him to continue, and he does.
“It used to be easy, you know?” Mike starts, pacing a little around the kitchen as if the movement might help loosen the words. “It was just… Will. My best friend. And now I keep thinking about everything I say, how I look at him, how I don’t look at him and then it gets worse because I realize I’m avoiding him, and he notices I’m avoiding him—”
He stops, frustrated, dragging a hand over his face.
“I don’t know what to do.”
Jane crosses her arms, tilting her head slightly. “Do something. Tell him the truth. Tell him that you know,” she says, simply.
“No, Jane, it’s not that simple. I can’t just ‘tell him that I know.’”
“Why not?”
“Because I could ruin everything,” he answers too quickly, as if that’s the only thing in his mind that’s actually clear. “I don’t even know if I like him like that, and if I do something wrong, if I make it seem like something it’s not—” he hesitates, swallowing the rest of the sentence before continuing, “I could hurt him. I don’t want to do that.”
Coward. “So you’d rather do nothing?” she asks, raising an eyebrow slightly.
Mike doesn’t answer right away, but the silence is answer enough. “I just… need time,” he insists, weaker now. “To figure out what this is.”
She pushes herself off the counter, walking past him toward the door, but pauses beside him for a second before leaving.
“If you don’t make up your mind soon,” she says, with a calm that doesn’t leave much room for argument, “you’re going to lose him.”
—
Present day, afternoon after the Basketball Team’s party.
“Jane, you need to convince Will to come on Saturday. We want to throw him a surprise birthday party!”
“Or,” she replies, resting her chin on her hand with an almost provocative calm, “we could, I don’t know, ask him what he wants to do.”
Mike rolls his eyes immediately, as if the suggestion were personally offensive.
“You’re being really annoying,” he shoots back, the protest coming too fast, carrying an irritation that doesn’t quite match the subject.
“He already said he’s doing something that night,” Mike continues, trying to regain control of the conversation. “He just didn’t say what.”
“He didn’t tell anyone,” Dustin adds with a shrug.
Max leans slightly toward Jane, clearly interested. “Do you know what that is?”
Jane hesitates for a second, not because she doesn’t have something to say, but because she’s choosing exactly how to say it.
“Well… I don’t know exactly,” she begins, tilting her head slightly, as if thinking out loud. And then, deliberately: “But if I had to guess…”
The whole table turns toward her.
“…I’d say he’s going out with his boyfriend.” And there it is.
For a second, silence settles in, thick and absolute, like no one is quite sure they heard it right, and then everything explodes at once.
“Oh my God!”
“Boyfriend? Jane, do you mean like a guy friend or, like, boyfriend boyfriend?”
“Who is he?”
“When did this happen?”
“Uh—no. No, that doesn’t make sense,” Mike blurts out suddenly, his voice coming out louder than he intended, tripping over his words as he tries to grab onto a line of reasoning that keeps slipping away. “He’s not going out with a boyfriend because he doesn’t have a boyfriend, what are you even talking about?!”
The table falls into a brief silence, caught off guard by the reaction.
Jane doesn’t rush. She tilts her head slightly, watching him with that same almost provocative calm. “I mean exactly what you heard, Mike.”
“But that’s not—” he runs a hand through his hair, restless, letting out a humorless laugh. “That’s not a thing. Like, if it were, he would’ve said something. To us.” He hesitates for a second, almost imperceptibly. “To me.”
“You don’t tell everyone everything either, do you?” Jane replies, just as calmly.
“No, but that’s different—” Mike starts, too quickly, like he needs to correct that immediately.
“Different how?” Max cuts in, raising an eyebrow, clearly way too interested in the conversation.
Dustin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Wait, so you’re saying that if Will had a boyfriend, you’d be the first to know?”
“That’s not what I said!” Mike snaps back right away, defensive.
“That’s kind of what you said,” Lucas comments, crossing his arms, watching the situation with curiosity.
Mike opens his mouth, closes it again, clearly frustrated at not being able to explain himself. “I just—I’m saying it doesn’t make sense. He would’ve said something. That’s the kind of thing people talk about.”
“Not everyone,” Jane replies, simply.
“But he would,” Mike insists, quieter now but no less tense, like he’s clinging to that idea. “I know him.”
“Do you?” Max leans slightly toward him, with a half-smile that mixes teasing and curiosity.
Mike doesn’t answer right away, and that small delay says enough.
“Guys—” Dustin interrupts, looking between them with wide eyes, “if this is true, this is huge. Like, Will has a boyfriend and we don’t know who it is? That’s high-level information.”
“Exactly!” Max agrees, excited. “We need to figure out who this guy is.”
“No, we don’t—” Mike starts, but no one is really paying attention to him anymore.
“When did it start?” Lucas asks, turning back to Jane.
“How did they meet?” Dustin adds.
“Why didn’t he tell us anything?” Max insists.
“Don’t ask me,” Jane replies, shrugging with a studied lightness. “I don’t know anything about him. I just found out by accident that they were seeing each other.”
There’s a small smile at the corner of her lips, subtle enough to go unnoticed, except by anyone really paying attention.
Max lets out an excited sigh. “Oh my God, I’ve been waiting for something like this.”
“I didn’t see this coming, but… good for him,” Dustin says, still trying to piece the story together in his head.
“Maybe that’s why he’s been kind of distant?” Lucas wonders. “Like, hanging out less with us?”
“That’s possible,” Jane replies.
The conversation keeps going, growing, branching into theories and possibilities, everyone talking over each other, each more eager than the last to fill in the gaps.
Except Mike.
Jane finds exactly what she was looking for in his unfocused gaze. And this time, she doesn’t bother hiding the small, satisfied smile that forms on her lips.