Chapter Text
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Will has always felt like an outsider.
It’s the morning of the first day of senior year. A light pound seemingly coming from the door made Will start to stir in his bed. The sun was shining through his window, coating his room in a warm blanket of light. Eyes heavy with sleep he turns over on his side and covers his face with the warm plush blanket in hopes to block the light out that was seeping in uninvited.
Once again a pound from the door sounds through the room, but louder with more urgency.
The door squeaking on its hinges as it gets pushed open makes Will grumble under his breath.
“Will, honey, it's time to wake up. I already let you sleep for an extra 30 minutes.”
Unwillingly, Will pushes back the blanket and sits up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes unsuccessfully. As his mom sits down next to him on his bed.
“Good morning honey.” A warm hand gently brushes the hair out of his face. “I made breakfast. Waffles, I know you like them. Made up the whole shebang.” She gives him a warm caring smile. Eyes scrunching in the corners.
“Mom, you really didn’t have to do that.” His voice comes out rough and strained.
“I know, I just thought it might make your first day better.” She starts to stand, bracing her hands on her knees as she does so. “I know this year is going to be different.” Her eyes look off to the side as she pauses, looking for a word she can’t decide on. “Better.” She finally decides. Giving him the warmest of smiles.
“Mm” is all Will says. He knows she is wrong, but doesn’t bother arguing with her. Every year has been the same since the 1st grade. No new friends, and honestly? He would prefer it to stay like that.
Will does better alone.
His Moms smile falters for a second before returning. “Well alright, I’ll leave you to get ready.” She starts to head to the door. “Don’t take too long, breakfast will get cold.”
“Okay.” is all he manages to say before the door shuts.
He sits there in his bed. Minutes pass by of him just staring into nothingness. Before finally deciding on leaving the confines of his warm bed.
Quickly, Will scurried around his room, throwing on some random outfit he found on his floor. A pair of baggy medium wash jeans, and a black sweatshirt to wear over his Weezer t-shirt. He roughly combed through his hair, before messing it up with his hands. Leaving his brunette hair in a fluffy mess piled on top of his head.
Before leaving his room to go eat breakfast, that his loving mother put work into just for him, he grabbed his wired headphones and his glasses and left to go downstairs.
Making a quick stop at the bathroom on the way, he stared at the mirror. The person looking back looked tired. Eyes droopy, with glasses that lay on the end of his nose, slightly hiding his eye bags. He looked unwelcoming, like if you were to talk to him he would just glare back and say nothing.
Perfect.
That was just what he wanted. His mom, so confident that this year would be different, better. Little did she know he wasn’t planning on changing anything this year. Of course he would never tell her that.
Eventually he left the bathroom, satisfied enough.
He made his way downstairs, feet padding on the carpeted steps.
Before he could even make it all the way down the stairs, the sound of arguing filtered through.
“How ungrateful does he have to be to not come eat breakfast.” His father said in a harsh tone. not quite yelling. “Selfish brat.” He continued.
“Lonnie, calm down. I woke him up a little later today, he is just getting ready.”
“No, Joyce, that brat needs to learn to respect us as his parents.”
God does this man ever stop talking.
Will continued his venture down the stairs, as his father continued to talk his moms ear off. His mom made some light hearted comments, in hope to calm Lonnie down.
Rounding the corner into the kitchen, to where his parents were seated at the round table with a full spread completed with syrup, berries, and whipped cream, just laying out next to the three plates of waffles. Two of them in front of his parents, and the other seemed like it was for him.
The blinds open, allowing more of the same sunlight from his room to flow in and make the kitchen seem just oh so warm. Contradicting the hostility and coldness that was radiating from the dining table that his mother and father were seated at.
His father whips his head towards him “look who finally decided to come downstairs.” His eyes are sharp, his words dripping with sarcasm, and not the joking kind.
“Yeah, here I am.” his own voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes.
He pulls his phone out as he sits to check the time. 8:00 is the time that stares back. Shit. School starts at 8:30. Coming late to school on the first day is seriously a low blow, even for him. In prior years he was late basically every day he actually went, but at the very least he should be on time today.
“Don’t give me that tone. "his father said, voice raised slightly.
“Mm” is all he could muster. Quickly throwing some berries and syrup on the waffles that were sitting in front of him, and scarfed it down. Gagging a little at how fast he was eating.
The taste of his mothers cooking always tastes of pure love and warmth. How does she do it? Her character never falters. Caring, loving, passionate. You almost could never guess that she is married to an uptight, condescending man.
He looks at his mother before saying, “Thanks mom.” and musters the best smile he can give her. She's already staring at him with kind eyes, slightly scrunched.
He gets up and grabs his plate and puts it in the dishwasher. Rounding his way back to the half hostile, half welcoming table. Then placing a kiss on his mothers head. “Ive got to go, bye love you.”
She gets up and pulls him into a bone crushing hug. In her hushed warm voice she says, “I hope you have a good day my sweet boy, I love you so much.” Before returning a gentle kiss to his forehead, and giving him a smile. Eyes still scrunched.
She releases the hug and he heads towards the door to grab his bag, not sparing his father a glance.
Throwing his bag on, he bends down to put on his dirty new balances.
Just as soon as he opens the door a firm hand grabs his shoulder and flips him around harshly. “Listen here son, don’t do anything stupid. I can’t handle you fucking up our image anymore, you hear me.” Hard eyes stare daggers at him, making him want to shrivel up and die. His words are harsh as they leave his mouth.
Will just stands there and stares at his father, wishing that he could just be released from his iron grip.
“I said, you hear me, son.” The hands grip tightening into a painful grasp.
“Yes sir.” He says in a hushed, drawn back voice.
His hold immediately releases and he walks away as if he didn’t just basically threaten his son.
Whatever.
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The walk to school is peaceful, music playing through his earbuds. The light morning breeze that isn’t quite warm yet is nice. Sunrays beam through the clouds making his surroundings look serene. God he wishes he could just walk around listening to music all day, maybe even find somewhere to sit and sketch in his notebook.
Looking down at his feet, memorizing the pattern in which he walks. Just thinking about where he should go after school so he doesn’t have to see his god awful father.
As much as he loves his mom, he just can’t stand being in that house most of the time. All thanks to a certain someone.
His feet continue, and Hawkins High starts coming into his line of sight.
A feeling of dread starts to pool in the pit of his stomach. He does not want to be here.
He presses the volume button on his phone, making the music playing blast straight into his eardrums. In hopes to ease some of the anxiety.
The further he makes it onto campus more background noise starts to filter in, no matter how loud his music is. Kids walking all around him, being quite literally the loudest he thinks they can be. Because how on earth can he still hear them with his music on the loudest volume. Like come on.
Today is going to be long, and probably filled with some headaches, he can already tell.
He grabs the folded piece of paper that he printed and put into his phone case the night before, and finds his first period class.
Art, good. Something actually good about today. Art is good, calming.
Will has liked to draw and in more recent years paint, for most of his life. When he is in the zone everything goes quiet in the world. All his struggles and worries just vanish for that amount of time. It’s the only time he is fully and truly at peace with himself.
Lonnie in the past would make fun of him, saying that if he wanted to prove he wasn’t a queer he had to pick up some more manly hobbies. But Will sucked at almost anything athletic and so Lonnie eventually stopped pestering as much. Just a few backhanded comments filled with malice here and there when Lonnie would catch him doing anything artistic.
His feet continued to his first class, Art with Mrs. Thomas. A sweet older woman whom he actually likes. One of the only good teachers at this school.
As he walks he keeps his head down, focusing on the music flowing into his ears. He finds himself in a panic if he doesn’t walk like this at school. All the people brushing past his shoulders, touching him without meaning too. And the eyes, people stare, and they stare hard. All of that combined makes him want to run until he deems himself safe and sink in on himself and sob, hoping no one sees him.
He finally finds his way to the art room. A path he has memorized throughout the years.
The door is the same as he remembers. Filled head to toe in post cards Mrs. Thomas has collected over the years of her youth when she used to travel the world, and some papers with affirmations saying things like “you are enough” and “your voice matters”.
He thinks it's sweet.
He looks at his phone, 8:25, five minutes before class starts.
The door, staring at him, waiting. He takes a deep breath and pushes it open, with a little more struggle than he thinks he should have.
Why do these doors have to be so darn heavy?
When he steps into the classroom he removes his wired earbuds and shoves them into the pocket of his jeans, turning them into a tangled mess that future Will would have to deal with.
His eyes look up and dance across the classroom briefly. No one is here yet. Well besides Mrs. Thomas.
“Good morning Will Byers.” She says in an upbeat tone with a playful smirk on her face.
She has short chestnut brown hair that is lightly curled, falling over her shoulders in an effortless way. Her face is soft looking, and she has this understanding and welcoming aura that just radiates off of her. She dresses in more mute colors but her room and the items inside it are all brightly colored.
“Right back at you.” Will says, quietly.
Unsure if she even heard him, he goes to put his earbuds back in. Guess future him happened to be him in like 60 seconds.
“Sit wherever you would like darling.” Oh maybe she did actually hear him.
“Alright.” He mumbles as he heads to the back right corner right next to the window. He throws his bag down and takes a seat. Turning his head to look out the window. A warm glow radiating.
Putting only one of the wire ear buds in, turning his music back on, putting it on a lower volume. He sat there and waited for class to start as the music softly flowed out of his ear buds.
Over the course of the next few minutes the class started to fill up. People barging in through the door and finding their friends to sit with. Chatter started to fill the room.
As the bell rang the class was filled. Every seat taken but the one right next to him. Figures.
Mrs. Thomas began to speak, talking about the syllabus and coursework.
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The bell rang once again signifying that class was over.
It went by super fast, probably because Will spent most of the class just zoning out and not really listening.
He grabbed his stuff and started heading towards the door, to his next class.
Today was going to be long.
Sure art went by pretty fast, but he liked that teacher so listening to her mindlessly ramble for an hour is not as bad as another teacher ramble for an hour. Okay maybe he didn’t necessarily listen, but she understood that he would get his work done so she always leaves him alone without bothering him. Most other teachers do nothing but bother him.
The walk to his next class goes the same, head down, music blasting in his ears.
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The rest of the day went by smoothly. No one bothered him. Just how he would prefer it.
Lunch he spent in the courtyard, drawing as usual.
5th period came around, his last period of the day. English.
One thing about Will Byers is that he hates English class with all his heart. The teacher always makes you read out loud, discuss things with classmates, and of course speeches and presentations for the whole class. Quite literally Will's worst nightmare.
So instead of going to class, he skips in the courtyard.
Yeah, skipping on the first day is a little diabolical but he already made up his mind.
He heads back to the courtyard. One of his favorite places. Hawkins High does a pretty good job at maintaining the school's ecosystems. It’s the only place he actually enjoys being at the school.
Bushes and flowers everywhere, accompanied by a few trees here and there, that sway in the wind.
He chooses one of the trees on the far side of the courtyard to sit under and plug in with his music and sketch for the rest of the day. Distracting him from all his thoughts.
For the next hour Will sits there, knees up and his notebook resting on his thighs, sketching a flower that the sun hits just right to make a beautiful scene. Shading where the sun does reach, putting emphasis on how the flower's purpose is to just sit there and be pretty, to bring comfort to those who look.
And boy, is Will looking.
Mindlessly, Will is looking down, adding his final touches to his drawing. Forgetting where he is. When he sees someone's feet stop right in front of him. Startling him a little
Who is this? Why is just standing there? Doesn’t he realize that he is way too far into my bubble.
Maybe if I just ignore the fact that this person is standing between my feet they will realize I don’t care to talk to them.
So Will continues, tries to go off into his own mindless calm that he gets when he draws. But this person, who just doesn’t seem to get the message, that he isn’t welcome, won’t leave.
Will’s eyebrow twitches a little, getting more irritated. And then something touches his foot.
Not something, the person that's just standing there nudges his foot.
It takes a moment for Will to realize this person just kicked his foot, but when it does he head shoots straight up.
Woah.
This person, no this guy is stupidly hot.
Will’s dad accuses him of being queer, gay. But he always denies it. Deep inside he knows he is gay. He thinks some guys are pretty hot. Just like the one who is towering over him right now.
It’s annoying that his dad is right especially since he gets so much shit for it. But Will can’t change who he is, what he likes.
Will’s mouth falls slightly open. He starts removing the wired ear buds from his ears, because the guy is giving him a look like he wants to say something.
“Hey.” The guy says. His voice, deep and warm. A playful smirk splays across his face, with slight amusement in his eyes.
Dark defined curls that messily go just above his shoulders, sharp cheekbones, and light freckles on his slightly flushed face. If you look a little closer he has an eyebrow piercing. Hot, Will thinks.
But who is this? And why is he talking to me?
Will goes quiet for a couple of seconds before realizing he needs to respond.
“Hi.” Will decides on. It comes out short and quiet.
“I’m Mike.” This guy, Mike, says.
Okay his name is Mike, I’ve never heard of a Mike. Whatever that doesn’t matter. Why the hell is this guy, Mike talking to me?
Mike raises an eyebrow in question, clearly waiting for something. Amusement still clear in his eyes.
“I’m Will.” is what he says after a long pause.
“Well, Will, what are you doing out here?” He says in a snarky way.
“Um, I’m just drawing.” Confused, he adds, “Why are you talking to me?” Eyes falling flat, eyebrows scrunching. He doesn’t really feel like being made fun of or anything today. In fact, he doesn’t really feel like talking to this Mike guy either.
Next thing you know Will hears a soft, warm chuckle. “Straight to the point.” He says while still laughing. “I just moved here.” He says.
Oh, so that's why he doesn’t recognize this guy. Because surely this is a face he would remember.
“Okay?” is all he says.
More laughing. “And, I don’t know…” his eyes drifted to the side, snarky smirk softening. “I just thought you looked interesting.” Eyes coming back, bringing his full attention to Will.
“Interesting?”
“Yeah.” A charming smile dances on his lips.
“And how do I look interesting?” He asks cynically.
“Well, for one school has already ended and you're still here.”
School ended? No matter that's fine, wasn’t planning on going home after school in the first place.
“So?” He asks defensively.
He just stands there for a second, mouth slightly drawn open. He takes another breath and continues, “I’m not judging you, just pointing it out.” He tilts his head, voice sounding genuine and soft. Will thinks he could drown in that voice. No one but his mom talks to him like that.
Will pushes his lips together for a second, taking in what he just said. “Okay then, is there another reason why you're here?”
“Maybe.” Is all he says. A soft playful smile flashes on his face again.
“That's it? Really?” Will says sarcastically.
All he does is laugh.
“What's that?” His head quirks towards the notebook laying on his thighs.
“Uh a notebook?” Eyebrow quirking up. Obviously, it's a notebook, what was this guy even asking?
“Yeah, it's a notebook. I can see that.” His head tilting to the side, mischievous look returning again. “I meant what’s in it.” A pause, “Like what are you drawing?” He says a little more seriously.
“Oh.”
Mike gives him an encouraging smile.
“Just some things.” He says as he hugs the notebook a little closer, heat flushing his face.
“Can I see?” He asks earnestly. A genuine look crossed his face. He starts to kneel down. Settling right next to him under the tree. Shoulders brushing, causing shivers to ripple throughout his body.
“I um,” Mike looks over, locking eyes. Up close he looks even better, he thinks. How is it that this stranger that he just met has this ability to make him feel this flustered with just a few words and some silly eye contact.
Mike quirks his eyebrow again, waiting patiently for an answer.
“Sure” Will finally manages to say.
Mike gives him a smile.
He releases the notebook from his grip and hands it to Mike. Heat slowly rising on his face.
Mike just sits there looking at the page. A blank look on his face. Unreadable.
Then his face breaks into a different expression. Something Will can’t even describe. Like someone is seeing him for him for the first time. But it obviously can't be that, because he just met the guy. Theres no way he can see through him that easily.
“Wow, Will this is really good.”
A fiery red flush continues to overtake his face
“Thanks.” He says so quietly that Mike might not have heard if it wasn't for the way he was staring so intensely at him.
Mike just continues to stare at him, not knowing what to do, Will starts to fidget with his hands a little. Moving his head so that he is no longer staring back at Mike but at the flower he spent the last hour or so drawing he mutters, “I uh, I have to go now.” Heat still flushing his cheeks.
“Do you know?” He says cheekily. That same look of amusement that seems too never leave.
“Yes.” He says seriously. “My uh, mom doesn’t want me out late. I was only out here because I lost track of time.” That sounds believable enough, right? Mom doesn’t actually care at all about what time he gets home but his body is telling him that he needs to go, like now. God this is so embarrassing.
Mike makes this face where his lips press together and his eyes and eyebrows scrunch, like he doesn’t quite believe him. But then it smooths out and his charming, warm smile comes back. “Okay, bye Will…” he carries out the ending of his name, almost like he is asking a question.
“Byers.” Will says, realizing what Mike is asking for.
“Byers.” Mike repeats, his face breaks out into a full smile, making Will flush from head to toe.
Mike starts to stand up. Putting his hand out, asking Will to take it.
Will hesitates but grabs his hand anyways. His hands are warm. It feels like there are sparks where they touch, it sends shivers up his arm and down his spine immediately.
As he comes to his feet, Mike's hand lingers before finally letting go. Will feels the loss of his warmth immediately.
Mike bends down next to him and grabs Will’s bag and hands it to him.
“Oh, thank you.” Will says shyly.
Instead of saying anything like a normal person Mike just sends him another smile.
“Okay, uh bye,” hesitantly he adds, “Mike.”
“Bye Will Byers, I’ll see you around.” and like that Mike starts to walk away. Leaving Will there stunned.
Who was that?
His name is Mike, obviously. But almost like it's in the welcome letter to Hawkins High, everyone knows to not talk to him.
Eventually Will starts to leave the school. Putting his ear buds back in, blasting his playlist. Eyes casted downwards.
Maybe his mom was right, and this year will be different. Maybe not better, just different. And Will isn’t so sure that's what he wants.
After all, Will does better alone.
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