Chapter Text
Will Byers’ life is completely, totally normal.
He lives in a boring, normal town. His friends are all normal, if not a bit nerdy. His family is normal, just blended. Will himself is mostly normal. He likes to paint and watch movies and listen to music.
Really, the only thing not normal about Will is his all-consuming feelings for his best friend. That would be normal, if his best friend wasn’t a guy.
But nope. Will just had to fall in love with Mike fucking Wheeler, his best friend since he was five and his secret crush since he was thirteen. He tried to like girls, he really did, but he always backed out of anything more than slow-dances at homecoming leaving room for the Holy Spirit, the thought of holding a girl's hand making his stomach curdle.
He tried to stop thinking about Mike, about his perpetual scowl (except for whenever he was around Will), the constellations of freckles dotting his nose, the way his jet-black hair flops into his face and he has to pin it back with bobby pins stolen from his sisters. He tried to push down the nervous feeling in his chest whenever he was around Mike, pretend it didn’t secretly kill him when Mike flipped through magazines pointing out pretty girls, or that truly horrific nine months where Mike dated Will’s stepsister Jane.
Him and Will are friends. Completely normal friends. And that’s all they’ll ever be.
Which brings Will to here. Mike’s 16th birthday party. They’re gathered in the Wheeler’s basement for an after-school D&D session followed by cake and presents. Then, Mike and Will will have a sleepover together, just the two of them. It’s been their birthday tradition for over ten years.Unfortunately, the sleepover is postponed for the following weekend because Mike’s parents have suddenly decided no sleepovers on a school night. Which usually hasn’t bothered them, but Mike just shrugged and said they want to make sure I get enough sleep, so my grades stay good for college.
The Party—Mike and Will, Dustin, Jane, Lucas and Max—wrap up their D&D session. Mike’s mom comes down to the basement with a large vanilla cake, Happy Birthday Michael!! written in thick blue icing. Mike’s younger sister Holly trailing behind her.
They all light the candles and sing “happy birthday” to Mike, Will focusing on Mike blowing out his candles. Will tries not to look at the way Mike’s lips purse as he huffs them out, he really doesn’t, but he does, and all he can imagine is how they’d feel on his lips. Like every birthday wish of Will’s for the past three years hasn’t been wishing for Mike to wake up and realize he’s been in love with Will this whole time.
After the cake is eaten, it’s time for presents. There’s a card from Nancy, sent all the way from Boston, with ten dollars in it. Holly gives Mike a drawing. Mrs. Wheeler gives him a thick wool sweater. Mike does a good job of hiding his disgust, but Will can immediately tell the fabric is going to be too itchy and not right for Mike. Mike’s particular about his clothes, being sensitive to certain textures and styles, and he hates fabric tags with a burning passion, always ripping them off.
Max gives Mike a Stephen King book, Pet Sematary, which surprisingly Mike hasn't read yet. From Dustin, a fancy new set of D20s. Lucas bought Mike a couple of C.D’s, Black Celebration by Depeche Mode (Will got Mike into them) and the debut album by this band called Pet Shop Boys, who Will’s not as familiar with, but Mike really likes the song “West End Girls” by them. Jane got Mike a massive bag of Skittles, his favorite candy.
Will’s gotten Mike the newest copy of X-Men, X-Factor. The X-Men have been Mike’s favorite comic series since he was eight years old, and he’s been talking nonstop about the new series. Mike’s face lights up when he unwraps it, beaming with pride as he tells Will, “Oh my god, thank you so much!” His hands flutter, like they always do when he’s really excited about something.
“Here’s one more gift, Michael,” Mrs. Wheeler says, handing Mike an envelope.
Carefully, Mike opens the envelope, and a silver key with a black handle falls out. His eyes practically bulge out of his skull. “No way. You bought me a car?”
Mrs. Wheeler smiles. “Why don’t you have a look in the driveway?”
The Party rushes out of the basement, stumbling over the stairs as they make their way to the Wheeler’s driveway. A Blue 1986 Ford Taurus is parked in the front.
Mike quickly squeezes his mom, yelling a hurried jumble of thank yous, before he pops the key in the door and opens it. The Party throws the backseat doors open, clambering for a spot. Will tries to squeeze in the backseat, but Mike gently grabs Will’s arm. “Sit up front with me,” he says.
Will does, taking a place in the passenger side next to Mike in the driver seat, as Lucas, Max, and Jane sit in the back, and Dustin crouches on the far.
Lucas whistles. “Sweet car, Mike.”
Mike pushes the keys into the ignition, grinning as the car hums to life. “Right? This thing is the coolest.”
He turns to face Will. “I’m gonna pick you up tomorrow,” he says. “We’ll drive to school together.”
Max rolls her eyes. “Are the rest of us not worthy of being picked up by you?”
“You skateboard to school, Mayfield, and the rest of you already have cars.”
Max grumbles. “Will also has a car.”
Will does. Jonathan’s old beat up pick-up truck. When he moved to New York to attend NYU, the truck sat idle in the Byers’ driveway until Will got his license and the car was passed down to him. It doesn’t run great, the white outside marked with rust spots, the inside dotted with cigarette burns. But a car’s a car, and it's the best the Byers can do, unless Will wants to drive a decommissioned police car courtesy of his stepdad Sheriff Hopper.
“Will lives closer to me.”
“I live on your street, dude!” Lucas clamors. Mike shakes his head. “I’m driving Will. rest of you can meet us there.”
Will squirms in his seat, uncomfortable with the attention. Mike’s always been overprotective of Will, even since they were kids. Always keeping Will closest to him, the rest of his friends just outside the smallest circle.
Will has mixed feelings about the special attention Mike gives him. It makes it harder to pretend he’s not in love with him. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like being Mike’s favorite. His first friend and his oldest and his best.
Mike turns the car off, and the Party files back into the Wheeler house. Mike pops in the Pet Shop Boys CD, and they spend the next hour lounging around the basement, just talking.
Around 6:00, Mike kicks them out. “Gotta get my sleep,” Mike says with a sheepish grin. He herds the Party upstairs, watching them file into their respective cars and leaving the Wheeler house until it’s just Will and Mike on their front porch.
The sun’s barely begun to set. Will doesn’t know why Mike’s in a rush to get rid of him.
Mike scratches the back of his head. “Sorry we can’t have our sleepover tonight,” he apologizes. “This weekend, I promise.”
Will shrugs. “Parents. I get it.”
Mike exhales. “Yeah. You get it.”
He looks up at the setting sun, the sky beginning to fade from blue to orange. A flicker of what looks like nervousness ripples across his face. He swallows. “You should be getting home.”
“It’s not dark yet.”
“You should go.”
Well. Will can’t say no to Mike. He turns and begins to walk down the stairs, but Mike calls out to him.
“Will.”
He turns around, expecting Mike to say, i’ve changed my mind, fuck my parents, please spend the night.
Mike doesn’t say that. He just takes a step forwards and throws his arms around Will in a tight hug.
Will stiffens. Him and Mike don’t hug anymore. They did a lot as kids, but once middle school rolled around, they both started hearing snide comments about how it was inappropriate for young boys to hug each other. These days, Will doesn’t touch Mike except for the occasional brush against each other in the crowded halls of Hawkins High, a fist bump over the D&D table when one of them rolls a good move.
He melts into Mike’s hug. This is a late birthday present for himself.
Mike pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, and then he heads back into the house.
Will doesn’t read too much into what happened. He makes his way to his truck and starts it, heading home under the changing sky.
🐾
“Jesus, Mike, what happened to you?”
Will hops into Mike’s passenger side, Mike picking him up to go to school just like they said. Mike, however, looks worse for wear. There’s sharp bags on his eyes. A scratch across his nose, lips bitten. He’s wearing an oversized sweatshirt and baggy jeans despite it being 80 degrees and April.
“It’s fine,” he grumbles, pulling the car into reverse and leaving the Byers driveway. Will’s eyes linger on cuts, barely scabbed over, between each of Mike’s fingers. His nails seem longer, his hair rough and choppy like he cut it before coming here.
“It’s not fine, you look horrible. Like you got hit by a truck.”
Mike looks at him quizzically. “Not sarcasm, Mike. You don’t look good.” Despite being a stubborn, sarcastic spitfire himself, Mike’s not great at telling when other people are being sarcastic around him. After years of reassuring Mike that they were being sarcastic and not making fun of him, the Party figured out a solution. A thumbs up along with a statement means, it’s sarcastic or a joke. Not serious.
He turns down onto Poplar Street. “Didn’t sleep well.”
“Doesn’t look like you slept at all. How’d you get all those scratches?”
“I, uh, fell down the stairs last night. Tripped over Holly’s Barbie car that she left out.”
Will doesn’t buy it, but Mike clearly doesn’t want to talk about it, so he drops it. “How’s the new X-Men comic?”
Mike lights up, excitedly talking about how he’s already finished it and it’s soo good and you have to read it and it’s the best gift I've gotten. Will doesn’t think a $1 comic beats a $10,000 car, but he’ll take what he can get.
They pull into the Hawkins High parking lot, Mike opening the door so Will can get out of the car. The boys walk into the school side by side, splitting up so Mike can head to precalc and Will can go to art.
“See you at lunch,” Mike says, walking backwards down the hall. Will nods in return and heads to the art classroom.
Art’s Will’s favorite class. He loves his teacher, Ms. Schweitzer, and he loves his projects. They’re doing a still life project right now, painting a bowl of fake fruit Ms. Schweitzer has set up in the middle of the room, spotlights glaring for good highlights.
Will grabs his palette and starts mixing up the colors. A dark purple for the shadowy background, red for the crisp foam apple.
The colors remind him of the wounds on Mike’s face. Purple bruises, red cuts.
Something else happened for Mike to get those injuries. Something that Mike doesn’t want to tell Will about. Are the baggy clothes hiding more wounds? Is it related to why they couldn’t have the birthday sleepover?
If Will lets himself think about it anymore, he’ll spiral. So he doesn’t think about it, taking his seat in front of his canvas and adding some more shading to the fake apple in the center of his composition.
In the background, he hears quiet, hushed giggling. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jennifer Hayes and Lola Maroney, hiding smiles under paint-stained hands. Will makes the mistake of eye contact with Jennifer, who wiggles her fingers at him. Will politely smiles and nods before turning his attention back to his canvas.
Jennifer is Will’s least favorite part of art class. She’s a nice girl, she really is, but she isn’t exactly subtle about her crush on Will. That dates back to middle school, eighth grade, when she asked him to be her date to the Snow Ball. Will was beginning to realize he wasn’t interested in girls, but he hadn’t realized he was interested in boys yet, so he said yes. It was the most awkward evening of his life, a stilted slow dance to “Every Breath You Take” (which is really not a romantic song at all, especially for a middle school dance), and she tried to kiss him under the bleachers while they shared a punch cup. Will backed out the second he realized what was going on, tripping over his too-long pants and spilling his punch all over himself.
Later that night, crying in his room, he kept flashing back to watching Mike dance with Jane, who wasn’t even his stepsister at the time. The way he saw Mike smile in a way he hadn’t seen him smile before, the way his brown suit was nice and new. Will had a sudden flash of him being the one to slow dance with Mike, kiss him under the bleachers, and, well, that was Will’s oh shit moment.
Even after that disastrous night, Jennifer still pursued him. She proceeded to ask him out to both freshman and sophomore homecomings, ask him on movie dates and to “go for a drive.” Will somewhat admires her willingness to make the first move. He doesn’t admire the fact she still hasn’t gotten the hint. He’s told her several times that he’s not interested, she’s a lovely girl but he just wants to focus on school right now, he’s very flattered. He wonders if he should make up a fake girlfriend in some far-off land—California or Canada or Sweden. Maybe she’d respect a woman who doesn’t even exist over a boy who does.
Will dreams of a world where he can just tell someone I’m gay, sorry! instead of making excuses. A world where saying that won’t get him called slurs or beaten up. He doesn’t think that world will ever come.
At least his family knows he’s gay. Jonathan was first, he figured it out all on his own. Spring break freshman year, Jonathan, Jane, and Will took a family road trip to Indiana Dunes State Park for some camping, and Mike tagged along. It was seven months into Mike and Jane’s relationship, and they were having issues. The last night, Mike and Will sat by the fire, Mike admitting he was struggling in his relationship. You’re her brother, he had said. What should I do?
Will told him that Jane’s just anxious and awkward, but Mike makes her feel like she fits in, that he makes her feel okay to be different, and that he knows she loves him. All the things that Will felt towards Mike, subbing in his name with his sisters. Mike had remained oblivious, smiling and nodding and then slapping him on the back with a thanks, man.
Will had gone to his tent, crying quietly, and in the morning Jonathan confronted him as they packed up the car.
Mike’s an idiot, Jonathan said, the smell from his morning joint still lingering. If he can’t pull his head out of his ass and realize he’s the reason him and Jane are having problems, then he doesn’t deserve her.
Then, he had turned to face Will. You deserve to fall in love with someone better, too.
Will had stared at Jonathan, panicking. Jonathan had just swept him into a hug, saying it’s okay. You’re my brother, and you always will be, and nothing will EVER change that, okay?
He told the rest of his family a few months later, after Jane and Mike had finally broken up. He knew his mom wouldn’t care. She was always first to yell at Will’s bio dad, Lonnie, whenever he called his son queer or fag or homo, then comforting Will afterwards with it’s okay to be different. That's not a bad thing to be.
Hopper, his newly-appointed stepdad was a little trickier. He had never called Will hurtful words, so he was already better than Lonnie. But he still grunted at the TV when the news mentioned Rock Hudson dying of AIDS after he was revealed as gay. Will had fidgeted nervously, looking at Jonathan and Jane and his Mom and Hopper, as he told them, I don’t like girls. I’m gay.
His mom had hugged him, of course, saying I suspected, but I love you, i’m still your mother, alright? Jane hadn’t known what “gay” even was, but after an awkward discussion she had just shrugged and said I don’t think it’s a big deal, now we can talk about cute boys. Hopper hadn’t said anything, and Will was scared for a minute, but later as he got ready to go to Mike’s house Hop had said anyone gives you any trouble, threatens to hurt you, you tell me, alright?
Telling other people took a little less weight off of Will. But sometimes, he still feels swallowed by everything. His love for a boy who will never love him back. The fact he’ll never be able to have an easy relationship, where he can kiss his boyfriend in public, call him his husband. Lola and Jennifer have it easy. Max and Lucas have it easy. Mike has it easy.
Will sighs and returns to his painting. Ms. Schweitzer walks behind him, nodding in approval.
“Very nice, Will.”
🐾
The Party takes their spots at lunch. Jane and Dustin sitting opposite each other at the very end, then Max and Lucas next to Jane, and Will and Mike next to Dustin.
Max whistles. “Jesus, Mike, what happened?”
“Fell down the stairs,” he mutters, as he unzips his Star Wars lunchbox that he’s had since middle school.
He pulls out six ziploc bags, each containing a hamburger wrapped in foil.
Lucas raises an eyebrow. “Did your Mom pack burgers for all of us or something?”
Will nods. “That’s very sweet of her, but she knows I'm vegetarian, right?”
Mike blushes. “They’re, um, they’re for me.”
He opens his mouth and scarfs the entire burger in whole, chewing it up and swallowing it in five seconds flat.
The Party’s jaw drops. “Holy fuck, Mike!” Dustin yells. Jane wrinkles her nose. “That’s gross.”
Mike narrows his eyes. “I’m a growing boy, I need a full diet.” He makes quick work of the next burger.
There’s something wrong with Will. because even though Mike has no table matters and ketchup smeared across his face, Will still thinks he’s the prettiest boy he’s ever seen.
The Party eats their less-meaty lunches, talking about their day. Max got a C on her history test (“Much better than last time!”, she smiles, while straight-A student Lucas puts his face in his hands like he can’t believe his girlfriend’s standards), Jane is applying for an exchange student program in France for the summer, and Will talks about how stage crew for the play is going.
As Mike eats his fifth burger, something changes. He drops the burger to the ground as his hands slam over his ears, face grimacing in pain.
Will reaches out, placing his hand in front of Mike but not on him. “Mike,” he says softly, “are you okay?”
Too loud! Mike mouths, eyes screwed shut.
Mike’s always been sensitive to loud noises. He wouldn’t eat in the school cafeteria until fifth grade, he’s always hated fireworks, places that are mildly loud to the others are unbearably loud for Mike. the cafeteria doesn’t even seem louder than usual, but Will knows not to question what bothers his friend.
Let’s go outside, he mouths back. He helps Mike up, leading him to the door as the eyes of hundreds of their classmates watch. Mike keeps his hands over his ears until they’re down the hall, closer to the library. Mike slumps down against the wall.
“It was so loud,” he says, his hands flapping uncontrollably. While they do that when he’s excited, they also do that when he’s overwhelmed. “Like, so much louder than it usually is. It felt like everyone was yelling at the top of their lungs, and I could smell everyone's food, and hear everyone’s heartbeat—”
Will knows Mike couldn’t do all that, but his future English major of a best friend loves a good hyperbole.
“It’s okay,” Will says. “Is it quieter here?”
Mike nods. “Yeah,” he says.
“I’ll go get the rest of your food, and I’ll sit with you for the rest of lunch, does that work?”
He nods again. “Yes please.”
So he files back into the cafeteria, grabs his salad and Mike’s last burger, reassures the Party that Mike’s fine, just overwhelmed, and brings it back. He takes a seat next to him, relieved to see Mike’s hand flapping has settled down.
Mike takes a single, slow bite of his burger. “Thank you,” he says through a full mouth.
“Anytime.”
He swallows. “You don’t have to stay with me. It’s not your fault I’m…weird.”
Will places a hand on Mike’s shoulder. Again, it’s a bit more touch than he usually does, but he just wants to comfort Mike. “You’re not weird.”
“I am. Places are too loud for me, and clothes are too scratchy, and things don’t make sense to me.”
“Mike,” Will says. “You make sense to me. I don’t think you’re weird.”
It’s the moments Will gets where he’s dangerously close to saying the full truth about his feelings towards Mike. saying something that can’t be excused as friendly concern.
But Mike is spiraling, and Will needs to let him know it’s okay. Mike’s so-called weirdness is just one of the things Will fell in love with about him.
“If you’re weird, then I'm weird, okay?” Will says. “We’ll be weird together.”
Mike sniffs. “Yeah,” he says. “Weird together.”
🐾
The rest of the week passes smoothly. When Mike picks Will up the next day, Will’s surprised to see the scratches on his hands gone, the bags vanished. His hair is seemingly a little more choppy, like he cut it again, but Will brushes it off.
Mike doesn’t return to lunch. He keeps eating his lunchbox full of hamburgers in the classroom of his English teacher, Mrs. Hyde. Will joins him.
Finally, Saturday night rolls around. The night of Will and Mike’s makeup birthday sleepover. Will smashes his alarm as soon as it rings, instead of letting it buzz for an hour like he usually does.
He rolls downstairs to make breakfast. He’s gotta run some errands, stock up on snacks and a movie for tonight. First, he scrambles some eggs, douses them in syrup, and sits at the tabl to eat. Hopper comes in a few minutes later, fully dressed in his uniform despite not usually going into the station on Saturdays.
“Everything ok?” Will asks as he picks up another forkful. His stepdad starts to brew his coffee.
“Something weird happened with Mark Stacy’s sheep,” he says. “All thirty of them were dead, bite marks to the neck.”
“Doesn’t sound that weird,” Will says. “A predator?”
“Well, there shouldn’t be predators,” Hop says. “Mark’s insisting he saw a wolf last night, scared him off with his shotgun. Wolves don’t live in Indiana, though.”
He sips his coffee, wincing in pain as he realizes it's too hot. “Maybe a coyote, more likely a stray dog. Animal control is the sheriff's jurisdiction, and Mark’s an old poker friend of mine, so I said I'd check it out.”
Hopper pours his coffee into a mug and grabs his keys. “I’ll be back later. Tell your Mother i’m at work if you see her.”
Will does a quick salute to show he got the message, and Hop heads out. Will finishes his eggs and goes to run his errands of his own.
Mike shows up at 4:00 pm, just like they agreed, but when Will opens the door and sees Mike without his usual navy blue duffel bag, he knows what’s going on.
“Mike,” he groans.
Mike grimaces. “Look, I’m really sorry, I know we said we’d do our makeup sleepover tonight, but I got a bad grade on a, uh, math quiz this week, so my mom said I couldn’t anymore.”
Will’s face falls. “We can still hang out!” Mike says. “What movie did you rent?”
Mike follows Will inside as Will pulls out the movie. “Something Robin from family video recommended to me, it’s called Teen Wolf? Got Marty from Back to the Future in it.”
Mike pales. “That’s that one with the werewolf that plays basketball, right?”
“I think so? She said it’s funny.”
Mike swallows. “Lets watch something old tonight, actually. It’s still my birthday, technically.”
So I rented this for nothing? Will thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He puts on a fake smile. “Your pick,” he says.
They go into the living room, Mike flipping through the Byers-Hopper VHS cabinet before settling on WarGames. Will pops some popcorn and they sit on the floor, backs up against the couch, watching the movie.
Throughout it all, Will’s eyes keep flickering over to Mike. He’s still wearing long sleeves-blue jeans and a purple Emerson sweatshirt, a gift from Nancy before she left for college. Even when he’s being impossibly frustrating, Will still loves Mike. he always will, he thinks.
He flashes back to what Jonathan said. You deserve to fall in love with someone better, too.
Will doesn’t want better. He wants Mike.
A bead of sweat drips down Mike’s face, Mike tugging at his collar.
“Jesus, it’s hot,” Mike says, fanning himself.
“You’re the one wearing long sleeves in April. Just take them off.”
Mike pales. “I, uh, don’t want to.”
“Then you can’t complain about being hot. Why won't you anyway? You naked under there?”
Will nudges Mike teasingly, but Mike blushes so hard Will thinks, oh shit, maybe he IS naked under there.
“Not naked, uh, just, don’t want to take off my clothes.”
“Mike,” Will says. “It’s fine. If you’re hot, you can take off your sweatshirt. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”
Mike swallows, and rips off his sweatshirt. Will’s not expecting what’s underneath.
Mike’s been skinny and scrawny his entire life, his arms barely more than chicken wing bones, his torso slender and pale. One time, Jane and Will got into Hopper’s vodka stash, and Jane drunkenly confessed the one time her and Mike decided to take each other's shirts off during a make out session, she wasn’t expecting how gangly and white he was underneath. He looked like a piece of paper folded hot-dog style, she drunkenly giggled, totally killed the mood.
The Mike Will is looking at right now is not skinny and scrawny. His arms are toned, rounded curves of muscle accentuating what was once stick-figure limbs. WIll can see the lines of pecs and abs underneath Mike’s shirt, which is far too tight and small on him. It rides up, exposing a dark patch of hair below his navel, a sharp V-line.
Will stares. He stares a lot.
Mike crosses his arms to cover himself. “I know it looks horrible!” he says. “I started working out more, but I did it too much, and now I look like a freak.”
One, Mike most certainly does not look like a freak. Muscles look good on him. A little too good.
Two, Mike was just in a t-shirt the other day, and he did not have all these muscles. And Will’s pretty sure you can’t gain biceps and a full six-pack in five days.
However Mike looks too good for Will to question it.
“You don’t look like a freak, Mike,” Will says, “You look,” Hot. Please use those strong muscles to push me down and pin me to the wall. Nope. Can’t think that. Bad Will.
“Healthy,” Will settles on. “Guess Lucas isn’t the only buff one in the Party anymore, huh?”
A flicker of a smile crosses Mike’s face. “Hey, you’re not so bad looking yourself,” he says. Now Will’s blushing furiously. He has a bit of muscle thanks to pushing heavy set pieces around, but it's nowhere near Mike’s new body.
“Let’s, um, keep watching the movie, okay?” Will says. Because that sounded awfully flirty from Mike, and Will can’t let himself entertain that. Mike is straight. He was in love with Will’s sister.
Mike shrugs and turns his gaze back to the screen. Will’s eyes don’t stop fluttering to his new muscles though, tracing the lines and curves of biceps. God. I’m so gay.
The movie finishes up, and Mike stretches. “I gotta head out,” he says.
Will checks his watch. “It’s 6:00 pm,” he says. “You can’t stay for another hour?”
Mike shakes his head. “Curfew from my Mom,” he says.
Will walks Mike out to the front porch. Mike sighs, scratching his head. “Look, i’m sorry I haven’t been able to do our sleepover,” he says, pushing a chunk of bang out of his face. “But my Mom says if I get an A on next week’s math quiz, I can have sleepover privileges. So next Saturday, we’ll make it up. I promise.”
He hugs Will again. Will accepts it.
“Yeah. next week. Next week sounds good.”
🐾
Will inhales a drag of his cigarette, staring out into the dark woods in front of him.
He’s leaning against the back of his shed, watching embers flick onto the ground below. He knows he shouldn’t smoke, that he’s too young, but it’s a habit he picked up a while back. Every once in a while, a secret, shameful cigarette stolen from the boxes Mom and Hopper have hidden around the house. When he needs a break. And tonight, he certainly needs one.
Mike is lying to him. He didn’t have sleepover privileges revoked for “bad grades”. Mike has never gotten anything below an A- in his life. He aces all his tests, he wins every academic award, he’s a fucking tutor for Christ’s sake. Mike’s grades are fine. For whatever reason, he just doesn’t want to have his sleepover with Will and isn’t able to be honest about it.
Which, all of this strange behavior started after Mike’s 16th birthday. The bailing, the wounds he’s refusing to tell Will about. It all happened after his 16th birthday.
Maybe a switch flipped in Mike’s brain and he decided he’s too old and mature to still have sleepovers with his best friend. Which, if that’s the case, fine.
There’s another theory, though. One Will doesn’t like. But maybe Mike’s seeing someone. Going on dates with her, going over to her house or having her at hers. Maybe the scratches are from long nails digging into exposed skin in ecstasy. He’s bailing on sleepovers to go to her house. He got buff to impress her.
That would explain why Mike refuses to tell Will anything. Will wasn’t the most fun guy to be around during Mike and Jane’s relationship, pulling away from both of them, and yeah, shooting looks at Mike. Why does my sister get to date the guy I like?
After the breakup, Mike confronted Will over his shitty behavior, and Will apologized and made up something about how he just felt like a third wheel, jealous because he was the only member of the Party without dating experience. Mike then apologized for making Will feel left out, and they went back to normal. But Mike and the rest of the Party refuse to talk about their relationships around Will. Which just makes him feel left out even more.
The only flaw in this theory Will can find is that someone in the Party would have let it slip. They’re gossipers, after all—turns out when you’re the nerdy, fade in the background type, people say things around you forgetting you’re there. The Party knows about Chrissy Cunningham’s pregnancy scare, David Weir and Cassie Hieber hooking up in the photography darkroom. At this point, Will’s surprised they haven’t speculated on his hidden homosexuality. Mike’s not good at keeping secrets, and if he had a secret girlfriend, Max would be teasing him relentlessly, saying the girlfriend was doing community service.
Will takes another drag, watching embers spit out onto the grass below. It’s getting late. He’ll take his last few hits and then get ready for bed. As he raises the cigarette to his lips, a deep piercing howl cuts through the silence.
Will freezes. The howl doesn’t sound like a dog. It’s lower, with more resonance, echoing through the trees. In all of Will’s years with his childhood dog Chester, he never heard him howl like that.
Will wonders if perhaps that howl belongs to the creature that ate the Harris’ flock. He has the sudden sensation of being watched, but he can’t see any flickering eyes in the darkness.
He throws his cigarette on the ground, stamping the flickers out with his boot, and makes a beeline for his house, not breathing until the door is locked behind him.
🐾
The bell rings, and Will leaves his last class of the day, making a beeline for the auditorium. In the past, he would head either to Mike's house to hang out or back to his own to do homework. Now, his Tuesday and Thursday afternoons and evenings are devoted to his new role on the Hawkins High drama club’s stage crew.
Will wasn’t planning on joining theater. However when his mom found out the drama club was putting on Dark Side of the Moon, the play she put on back in 1959, she practically forced Will to join.
“I’m not an actor,” he had said, pouring milk into his cereal as Joyce wiggled the flyer in his face.
“You don’t have to be! See, they’re looking for people to help build and paint sets.”
“I don’t know how to build stuff.”
“But you love to paint.” She slid the flyer across the table, all reds and blacks. An Appalachian Fairy Tale, the flyer proclaimed.
“It’ll be good for you to do some extracurriculars. Colleges love that.”
“Art schools really only care about your portfolio.”
She sighed. “Will, please just give it a chance. Just go to the interest meeting. I promise, theater will be a good scene for you. You’ll fit in.”
So Will went to the interest meeting, found that he actually didn’t hate the idea of hanging out in the auditorium a couple times a week painting stuff, and signed up. He didn’t like the building parts—he hammered his thumb by accident countless times—but he loved climbing up onto the catwalks to paint, his walkman blasting in his ears.
People in theater were nice, too. Joyce was right about that. It was mostly girls, who clung to Will as one of a handful of boys in the entire production. They’d flirt with him, twirling their hair and giggling as Will painted gnarled trees on midnight backgrounds.. He always turned them down.
Most of the other boys in theater were only there to get extra credit for English class, putting the bare minimum in their performances. The exception was Ty Carpenter, a junior who had nabbed the lead role of John, the witch boy.
Will always had a suspicion Ty was like him. Gay. The girls flirted with him too, and like Will, he always politely declined. He was soft-spoken and sensitive, him and Will always the two kids in elementary school who cried when they got out in dodgeball. And sometimes, Will would be on the catwalk and make eye contact with Ty in the spotlight, and Ty would smile at him, and Will would smile back.
Sometimes, Will wondered what would happen if he actually got to know Ty. if something would blossom between them. Ty was cute—curly red hair, brown eyes, freckles—and maybe, he could be more than a friend. Maybe he could be Will’s first kiss and first date and first boyfriend and first everything.
He would just be using Ty to get over Mike, though. He couldn’t do that to him. It’s bad enough all the boys Will’s ever thought were cute had a part of Mike in them—Ty’s brown eyes and freckles, Chance Velasco’s blackish-brown hair—he can’t pretend they’re Mike.
It’s just over two weeks until opening night. Will’s thankfully not needed for the actual show, as it doesn’t require a run crew, but he’s invited all his friends to the first show to see the work he’s done.
He puts the finishing touches on a prop lantern made from a repurposed cardboard box, painting it in a hazy golden glow, The Cure thrumming in his ears. He tries not to think about Ty or Chance or Mike.
🐾
He gets out a little after nine, slinging his messenger bag over his shoulders and making his way back to his truck. The sky is clear, dotted with thousands of twinkling stars.
As he kicks a piece of gravel out of the way, he sees a shadow moving behind him, and freezes.
It’s probably nothing. Just another one of his fellow cast or crew leaving around the same time.
Something in him says otherwise, all the hairs on his body standing up.
He takes out one earbud, not daring to turn around. He resumes walking, a faster pace than usual.
Heavy footsteps follow behind him.
Ok. he’s definitely being followed.
He runs through all the self-defense tips he knows, courtesy of being the Sheriff’s stepson. Rule one, try to get away. Don’t enter a fight if you aren’t 100% sure you can win. Get to his car, lock it up, speed away.
A tight hand grasps onto his shoulder, spinning him around. He’s greeted by three sneering faces: Austin Maury, Trevor Louis, Sebastian Summers. Three members of the Hawkins High football team, probably here for spring practice.
Will runs over his next tip. Maintain a defense posture. He holds his hands in front of his face like a boxer, bouncing on his heels.
Austin laughs. “Think you could take us, Byers?”
Will lowers his voice. “What do you want?”
Trevor takes a step closer. “We heard you were doing theater.”
“I paint sets. That’s not the same as doing theater.”
“It’s all unmanly, anyway,” Austin says. “But I guess it’s a great hobby for you, huh? Flitting around on stage with all the other fairies.”
Will tenses his fists. “I don’t have time for this. Just leave me alone.”
Sebastian speaks up now. “There’s another queer in that club, right? Tyler? You guys putting on two-man productions of Hair?”
Will wants to laugh. These guys are making fun of Will for doing drama because apparently it’s queer, yet they somehow now the plot of the musical Hair?
The smart part of Will doesn’t laugh. He just focuses on trying to get away.”
Will takes a step backwards. “I’m not going to say this again. Leave me alone.”
Before he can stop it, Austin shoves him hard, his body falling onto the blacktop. His hands scrape the pavement as he tries to catch himself, gravel wedging in between cuts dripping blood onto the concrete.
Will scrambles back to his feet, preparing to run before Sebastian grips his arm. Tight.
“You’re not going anywhere, Byers,” Austin says. “You see, my sister Charlotte asked you out. And you said no.”
Will remembers Charlotte. She’s a freshman in the ensemble, asked Will out the very first day. He just said he didn’t want to date someone a grade younger than her.
“You made her cry,” he says. “She really liked you. And I know damn well you didn’t want to date her because she’s younger. You’re a fag, and you’re with Tyler, aren’t you?”
I’m not with Tyler. Because he’s not Mike.
“I’m not gay,” Will lies. “I just don’t want to date a 14 year old, I’m 16. Now. leave me alone.”
Austin grabs his collar, cocking his fist back. “So, here’s how this is going to go. You can either show up to practice next time and ask her out, because Charlotte’s a nice girl and you need to be fixed. Or, I can beat the transgression out of you, and then your little boyfriend won’t want to kiss your swollen, pulpy face.”
He smirks. “What’s it gonna be?”
Will swallows. “Go to Hell,” he spits out. Austin frowns.
“Well, we’re not doing this the easy way,” he says.
Will closes his eyes, bracing for the punch, but a deep growl punctuates the silence.
His eyes flutter open, Austin’s fist frozen in mid-air. Will's eyes flicker around the parking lot, trying to find the source of the growl.
The source slinks out of a shadow near the chain link fence. It’s large, coming up to Will’s waist. It has four slender legs, and pointed ears, a thick tail sticking straight out like a ruler. It has charcoal black fur, dark eyes blending in with the rest of it, and sneering lips with a mouthful of sharp teeth, drool dripping like stalactites from its jaws.
It’s a wolf. It’s a fucking wolf.
The wolf growls again, snapping the air in a mock bite. It approaches the boys, ears pinned back, hackles raised. Will is frozen in place, watching the powerful creature come closer.
Then, the wolf lunges towards Austin. Austin screams, jumping back just in time before the wolf makes contact, falling onto the blacktop below. He scrambles to his feet, peeling off towards the road. The rest of the boys follow suit, mumbling yelps of oh fuck and lets go!
And then it’s just Will and the wolf.
The wolf turns its gaze to Will, and he stiffens, praying that if he stands still so much the wolf won’t notice he’s here. He squeezes his eyes, only allowing the slightest sliver of vision to peep through, clenching his fists.
This is the creature that’s been taking down flocks, howls heard in the night. It’s been a wolf. A wolf that’s about to sink his jaws into Will.
The wolf doesn’t. It looks at him for another second, and then it turns and disappears quickly as it appeared, back into the shadows.
Will collapses to the pavement, breathing hard. What the fuck just happened?