Will was astonished, as the Byers' family car drifted into the half empty school parking lot, by the rather well numbered turnout of students. He had imagined that it was going to be busy, sure, it was a school dance after all. There was seldom a time when school was anything but work, work and more work. So of course Will knew there would be people there. He just hadn't really expected what felt like the whole school to be there.
From outside the gym, Will could see just enough of the interior through the first set of open double doors that his heart began to pound in his chest. The lights streamed outwards and illuminated a tiny fraction of the ground in front of the entrance like a welcoming beacon, and Will instinctually reached upwards, thin fingers clutching at the front of his blazer. He'd been glad, and yet simultaneously begrudged, that he hadn't really grown much since the last time he'd attended the Snow Ball.
His mother had, with only brief intervals of motherly questioning, helped him dig through into the back of his closet to pick out a nice dress shirt and the dark green blazer he'd ended up wearing to the dance. Dress pants weren't hard, and he didn't have much choice around the single pair that he owned. Overall, though he couldn't help but stifle the nervous, self conscious feeling in his stomach, Will felt like he had cleaned up pretty nice.
Yet now, he felt afraid. As he stared numbly towards the doors, Will felt a warm hand on his left forearm.
"You alright, honey?"
Peeling his eyes away from the sight of the school, Will glanced over towards his mother, assessing the compassionate look on her face. He knew she'd been confused when he had suddenly rushed back into the house and told her, on a whim, that he needed to go to the dance because, well, he just needed to. She'd been lenient with him then, of course, but didn't he owe her some sort of explanation, at least? He owed her that. He just didn't know if he could give that to her.
"Yeah, I'm alright."
"Is your special someone here?" Joyce asked in a way that only mothers can, and Will felt the tips of his ears growing flush in embarrassment.
"W-What do you me—"
"Jonathan told me," Joyce assured her son, giving his arm a soft pat as she drew her hand back, a curious smile crossing her face as she watched her boy. Will felt his nerves growing taut, and though he knew and Joyce knew well of his stance on these sort of things, he still felt like he was coming clean in admitting it.
"So? Is he?" Joyce poked, her voice patient as she eyed him.
He, Will thought.
"Yeah," Will whispered, eyes dropping towards the passenger's seat floor, "he is."
He, Will thought. That feels good. He. 'He' isn't pretending. He. A boy. The boy.
"You'll be fine, sweetheart, I know it," Joyce cooed as she glanced past Will and towards the bright light gleaming through the front school doors. Will stared down into his hands quietly for a moment, swallowing back whatever had been preventing him from getting out of the car, then turned back to look at his mother.
"Thanks, Mom," Will whispered slowly, and he didn't need to clarify just what he was thankful for. There wasn't much that he wasn't thankful for.
Giving Will one last nod of encouragement, Joyce beamed at her youngest pride and joy.
"You go get 'em, kiddo," she said softly, and as Will climbed out of the car, she wondered if she could ever be any prouder of her son than she felt in that moment.
Shutting the door behind him, Will took in the winter chill like it was an old friend, stuffing his fingers into his pockets and letting his fingertips brush against his entry free made of silver coin as he walked up the drive. He could feel his heart rate picking up, and at the sound of the car pulling back out of the drive and puttering away out of the lot, Will knew that he had just made his decision final. He was there, of course, so it always had been. He knew he couldn't leave without doing what he needed to do.
Something about being in the car made it feel like he'd had a choice at some point. He knew very will, though, that he did not. He never did.
Making his way up towards the front doors, Will could already hear the music, feel it in soft vibrations as he grabbed a hold of the front door's bar handle and pushed. He was going through his calming down routine, however futile it came to be. He was counting to 10 and back, breathing in and out on each number, seconds between them. If he focused on something, panic might not set in, he was thinking. Panic was already there, of course. He'd been panicking since he pulled on his clothes.
Stepping into the school, Will gazed down the hallway as his eyes settled on a small table that had been set up before the hallway towards the auditorium. Streamers were strung neatly from the ceiling, a pale blue that made Will feel warm inside, and on the opposite side of the hall from the table was another, much longer table. This one didn't seem to have a meaning besides being a blockade, however. Glancing back towards the first table, Will eyed the large Bristol board sign taped to the front of the table that read, in messy cursive, Admissions Here!, and behind the table in an aged wooden chair sat a friendly looking young woman, someone Will didn't really recognize.
They might even be someone's parent, Will thought briefly as he moved towards the table. He couldn't imagine why any adults would want to spend their evening here. It wasn't all that, he'd thought. He wasn't fully aware of how much he was talking it down.
Digging his money out of his pocket, Will watched as the woman straightened up in her seat.
"Good evening, just one?" the lady asked patiently, eyes dropping down to his palm as he outstretched his hand, offering the money to her.
"Yes, please," Will spoke quietly, placing the money into her palm as she took it from him. Will watched in silence as she dropped the coins into a small tin with a clink as they rattled against everyone else's change, reaching across the table to the tiny ink pad as she massaged the rubber of a stamp into it's surface. Glancing upwards at Will, they exchanged polite smiles.
"Let me see your hand, sweetheart," the woman said, beckoning him forward as he tentatively placed his hand flat down on the table. The woman pressed the hand stamp gently against the top of his hand, and as she removed it, Will stared down at the icy blue snowflake that now adorned the pale surface of his skin.
Bringing his hand back from the table, Will observed the design with quiet curiosity.
"You have fun," the lady said finally, giving Will a small nod as he met her gaze one last time and rounded the table towards the gymnasium. His head was thudding slightly now, and he prayed that this wasn't the coming sign of a headache. I don't need a headache right now, Will had thought, unimpressed, right hand rubbing the wrist of his left as he studied the stamp. I need plenty of things but that isn't one of them.
As Will reached the doors to the auditorium, he found himself stopping. He stared into the wooden finish of the double doors in front of him, trying to shake that nervous sensation out of himself to no avail. He had a right to be nervous. Out of all the times he had been nervous in the past month and a half, this one time had the most credit.
10. 9. 8. 7. 6.
Will breathed in and out, listening to the hum of music behind the doors. As he reached out and placed a hand against the door, he could feel the sound waves pulsing through it's surface.
5. 4. 3. 2.
2.
2.
1.
Taking a long, much needed deep breath, Will took his first step forward and, pushing open the doors, drifted into the gymnasium.
It was beautiful, to say the absolute least.
Through the decorative lights fixed around the edge of the ceiling, strands and slivers of silver streamers glittered and shone as they hung from strings tracing the roof above the dance floor. Every time they shifted, light was reflected across their mirror-like surface, shining down on the students below as they shuffled, chatted and danced in the centre of the auditorium. Balloons of every shade of blue were strung up along the bleachers, tied to weights seated at the drink booth where a large bowl of crimson red punch was situated. There was a photo booth with tacky blue backgrounds to his left, and if Will looked straight forward, he might have been overwhelmed by the amount of kids hustling and bustling around each other. He wasn't overly worried at that very moment about the crowd, of course. Other things were on his mind.
Grabbing nervously at the edge of his jacket, Will moved forward into the sea of people, his eyes searching endlessly for the familiar face of one of his best friends. He could hear Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now playing at full volume and echoing among the walls of the auditorium, and in a blind moment of amusement, Will wondered if the DJ really had taken pointers from his brother.
As he stepped forward and neared the edge of the cluster of students, Will heard a familiar voice.
"Will?"
From somewhere behind him, hearing his own name being called in such confusion, Will twisted around as much as he could through the crowded dance floor as he saw two pleasant, familiar faces emerge from between a group of students.
"Oh, er... hey," Will said simply, the phrase much too casual as he watched Lucas and Dustin approaching. They looked well; amazing, even, Will thought. It was easy to tell which of them knew the most about what they were doing. Lucas was dressed in a nice crushed velvet blazer, the colour of freshly printed gold coins. The only other colour he was wearing was presented on his shoes the exact same golden shade, the rest of his outfit, dress shirt and all, a cool, endless pitch black. As though he and Dustin had taken style pointers from each other, Dustin was wearing almost the exact opposite. His dress jacket was a deep black, where the rest of his clothes were a royal blue, again, exempt for his shoes. Will imagined, taking an honest moment to look at the two boys' outfits, that if there were awards given out at such an event for best dressed attendees, Lucas and Dustin would come in at a hard tie for gold.
"What're you doing here?" Dustin questioned in an astonished jab, his voice barely audible over the sound of Morrissey's voice echoing inside the gymnasium. Glancing briefly to his right, Will watched as groups of teens swayed along to the music, entertained by the fact that plenty of them seemed to be moving in a way that suggested they didn't know the beat of the song all that well. He was wasting his time, he knew this, but he couldn't help but try and dull the knot inside of his chest. What was he there for?
Well, he knew what. Who.
"I, just, uh... changed my mind. I got bored at home," Will suggested in a bold faced lie, his eyes scanning the heads inside of the auditorium as he searched for one familiar head of black hair.
"You changed your mind, huh," Lucas repeated slowly, his voice all but impressed as Will's attention snapped back to him. He raised his brows slightly, just enough to throw Will for a slight loop.
Changed your mind, my ass, his stare said. Will wouldn't correct himself, of course.
"Have you guys seen Blue?" Will spoke suddenly, no longer beating around the bush as his gaze drifted back towards the crowd, trying to cover up the vulnerable feeling he had inside of his chest. As his eyes roamed, Dustin was the first to respond to him.
"He left."
Going still, Will's head turned a bit too quickly back towards his two friends. The knot grew tighter.
"He... left?" Will repeated, his heart sinking into his stomach. Dustin gave Will a strained smile, shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, like, just. He went," Dustin began, throwing a hand out, Will's eyes following his gesture towards the side gym doors, "out that way. You could probably still catch him if you want, but... he seemed a little bummed."
Bummed, Will thought.
Well, doesn't that make two of us.
"I, uh... I'm gonna go see if I can find him," Will spoke out loud, though he was actively stepping away from the two as he turned to push back through the crowd and out towards the doors. From behind him, Will could hear Lucas calling out to him.
"What's so important that you need—"
"I'll be back!" Will called out, not even turning back to say so as he shifted and slid through the gaps between students and hurried his way towards the doors. He couldn't find it in himself to promise that he would do so, because he truly wasn't sure. As he made his way to the side doors and rested his fingers against the push bar, Morrissey's voice melted into the smooth sound of Billy Walker's Funny How Time Slips Away, and that subtle shift in tone was the only incentive Will needed to shove open the doors and step back outwards into the cool December night air.
As Will stepped outdoors and took a long look around, he felt loneliness seeping into the very crooks of his bones. The side doors of the gym led out towards the secondary parking lot that had been built specifically for this side of Hawkins Middle, but particularly in the dead of night on a dance evening, the place was practically deserted. If not for the gentle hum of guitar music resonating from the building behind him, Will might have thought the place was entirely abandoned. Not a single car was parked out there, and as he took a long look to his left, Will felt that chilly feeling drowning out his thoughts once more.
He's already well gone, Will thought to himself, disappointment stabbing into him like pins and needles. I missed him. I missed it.
As Will twisted right and turned to move back towards the gym doors, he saw Blue.
When Dustin said just, Will understood, he had really meant it. Blue was only halfway across the parking lot, back to Will with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his warm brown blazer as he walked slowly further. Will's heart, where it had sunk deep into the pit of his torso, was suddenly launched into his throat at catapult speed.
Stepping forward and fully into the parking lot, Will found his voice again.
"Hey, Paladin!" Will blurted, his voice carrying across the empty lot in an almost echoing fashion as he watched Blue halt in his tracks. He took no time in whipping around and turning back to face Will, and the moment he had, Will felt as though he might have melted into the pavement beneath him.
He looked handsome, that Will knew. He'd expected it, and yet he hadn't been ready. Blue's hair was smooth and tucked behind his ears, his bangs still hanging loosely just above his eyes like they always seemed to. His blazer was buttoned, and underneath he wore a thick blue knit sweater vest, the head of a blood red tie peaking out from beneath the neck of said vest. Hands still resting deep in his pockets, Will could have sworn for a moment that Blue's eyes seemed to light up.
"Will?" Blue asked in what sounded like sheer surprise, stepping forward slowly before he began a casual walk back towards Will.
Will was suddenly aware, even though he'd cleaned up nice, of how regular he felt next to Blue. The space between them closed quickly.
"You're leaving?" Will asked, and the corners of Blue's lips turned up into a sheepish smile, like he was caught in an embarrassing moment.
"Yeah, I, uh," Blue began, drawing a hand from his pocket and placing it against the back of his neck, "—I just wasn't feeling very, y'know... into it."
"Into it?" Will repeated, absently, and through his sudden embarrassment, Blue's smile grew.
"You changed your mind?" Blue asked, tearing the subject away from himself, and Will simply nodded, not quite knowing what else to say. Words felt wasted, pointless even, and in some way the both of them began to comprehend that their small talk wasn't doing much to make up for the steady growing understanding between them.
"If you want to leave, don't let me sto—" Will began, shameful, though he didn't get far.
"Do you want to dance?" Blue blurted, sudden and brief, but Will had caught every syllable of it, shutting up the moment Blue had spoken. If words could kill, Will might have keeled over right then.
The music was slow, still, and Will was acutely aware of that fact. The song was beautiful, of course, but it was definitely slow. It wasn't the kind of song you could get a groove on to, and it wasn't the kind of song you danced to with a group of people. Bitterly, Will bit down on his tongue.
He knows that, Will thought.
He knows that, doesn't he? That's why he asked.
"I don't know how to dance," Will admitted, his pulse growing rapid as he stared across the few feet between them, assessing Blue's expression as he seemed to grow contemplative. Tipping his head ever so slightly, Blue turned his gaze towards the school, their faces lit up by nothing more than the vibrant white light inside the building and the heavy full moon above them.
"Neither do I. I bet we could learn pretty quick, though," he suggested, his eyes finding their way back and meeting Will's gaze. Yes didn't need to be spoken out loud then. It was felt in the way that they looked at each other, and spared tiny nods back and forth.
Yes, I want to dance with you, Will wanted to scream as he stepped forward, mirroring Blue. I've wanted to dance with you for longer than I can remember. Literally.
The space between them dwindled to no more than a foot, and Will, following only what he had seen briefly inside of the auditorium on his way out, lifted his slightly trembling hands and placed them securely on Blue's shoulders. He was taller, but not by a whole lot; just enough that Will had to look up to meet his stares whenever he found the courage to. Will, who had spent the car ride there cursing his height and seeming lack of growth, suddenly felt like he wanted to stay his current stature forever, if it meant they could stay like that. Just like that.
"I'm going to... I'm going to put my hands on your waist, alright?" Blue spoke suddenly, his voice quiet now, just loud enough for Will to hear. Pretending like his heart hadn't grinded to a halt for several seconds, Will simply nodded, pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
"That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?" Will suggested with a tiny laugh, and Blue, embarrassment flashing across his face, dipped his head and let out an airy, nervous laugh.
"Right," he murmured, and placed his hands in their allotted place, going quiet as the two of them began to sway.
Dancing, Will discovered, wasn't hard when you were dancing with someone you cared for. This could be said for most things.
It didn't have to be elaborate, and it didn't have to be perfect. It only had to be, and the two of them were capable of doing just that. Swaying peacefully to the sound of guitar strums and humming vocals, Will felt like this was exactly what the old Will had hoped for, and what the new Will had dreamed of.
He was alive in that moment, and as though they both knew it was bound to happen, Will's hands shifted to intertwine with each other behind Blue's neck, just as Blue's arms slid all the way around Will's waist.
They didn't know how to dance, and yet somehow, they sure seemed like they did.
Whatever it was, the gentle movements and bare minimum; it was contact, and it was enough. As Will's fingers looped around one another, Blue broke the silence between them, shattering the peace and simultaneously bringing the thunder.
"Will?" Blue whispered, his voice as sweet as honey, barely audible over the background noise as Will drew back a bit to look at him.
"Hm?" Will whispered in a serene hum, but his response to nothing in particular fell unanswered. Where Will suddenly wondered if Blue was about to spill something heavy on him, his fingers tightened ever so slightly as the boy twisted his head and peered down into Will's eyes.
Something cracked inside of Will, like a whip. An electric shock travelling up the backs of his arms and right through his fingertips, like he'd been struck by lightening.
Will sensed it, in some way, before it happened.
It wasn't a true knowledge of what Blue was about to do, but rather, a thin sort of connection between the two that snapped just as Blue leaned forward. This didn't stop Will's breath from hitching in his throat, though, and it most definitely did not calm his heartbeat down. Yet, for the first time, Will didn't look around to see who could see them.
He didn't care who was looking at Blue unless it was himself.
And as Blue leaned in and pressed a sweet, innocent kiss to Will's lips, Will didn't hesitate to kiss him back.
Like clockwork, like his body knew what it was doing before his brain, Will's arm slid back from it's previous spot against Blue's shoulder as his fingertips found their way to Blue's cheek. His eyes had drifted closed and he felt a significant warmth spread across his cheeks. His heartbeat rung in his ears, and he knew he was blushing, of course, but right then he couldn't find the patience to care. Blue wouldn't catch his blush. Even if he did; was it not expected?
The embrace was brief and yet sugar sweet, stained in Will's brain as Blue drew back, hesitant, like he could linger there for days to come. Will's fingers remained flush against Blue's cheek for several seconds after, however, stunned into silence as his eyes fluttered open once more. Will thought his heart might burst right then; explode right in his chest like a bomb as their eyes met.
Neither of them looked around. Neither of them cared to.
There was a new sense of understanding between them, at that moment, and there was no doubt that the both of them were well aware of this. A step had been crossed and the foundation of their friendship that they'd been standing on before had crumbled beneath them. The new plateau they rested on was something more than that, built from remains. As Blue peered down into Will's eyes, and a poorly restrained smile broke across his lips, and Will watched with sheer admiration as Blue quietly began to snicker.
Like a switch, all at once, the two of them broke into careless laughter.
It was uncontrollable, at first; Will tucked his forehead into Blue's shoulder, trying to stifle the torrents of giggles that ripped through his chest. His fingers fell to the boy's upper arms as he held onto him, feeling Blue trembling with laughter beneath him. He couldn't quite pinpoint what was going on, and the feeling swimming inside of Will's chest were muddled and blended to the point where they could not be deciphered.
He knew there was joy, deep down; there was joy and it was erupting in his chest. If one thing stood out to him, it was that, and as their laughs melted into breathless, airy mumblings, Will pulled back from the boy in front of him, finding his eyes again.
This time, for the first time, Will thought, he wasn't worried about what he might say.
"Wha... What was that for?" Will exhaled slowly, eyes scanning Blue's face for some sort of explanation. Blue's hands had dropped from their spot against Will's waist, their previously pristine dance form coming apart at the seams. Letting out one last breathy laugh, Blue raised his hands and pressed his palms flat against his face, covering it for only a moment before he let his fingers fall limply from his complexion.
"Because you're you," Blue responded, his tone sure but his words ambiguous. As a smile traced Will's lips, he tipped his head weakly.
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well," Blue began, gazing past Will and towards the trees surrounding the gym's back parking lot, like making eye contact was too much for him.
"For being you. Y'know, I thought when you were there in the hospital... I thought after you got out, you might forget about all of us. About me," Blue urged, his voice low like he was uttering something private. Mimicking his actions from earlier that afternoon, Blue reached down and snatched one of Will's hands, folding his fingers against Will's. There was a tenderness in Blue's voice that drew Will in. The kind of tenderness one only finds in the sharing of secrets.
"You could've become a completely different, Will, but you didn't. You're still the same Will, the Will I knew," Blue paused, shaking his head and pursing his lips for a moment like he was trying to find the right words to say. He wasn't really aware that they were all right.
They were all right. Everything he was saying was right, good, amazing, great, bursting inside of Will's head like fireworks.
"Still you. The same kid that would roll for a fireball instead of casting protection," Blue carried on, another short chuckle escaping his lips as he flexed his fingers against Will's.
Standing in front of Blue then, as Will listened to him speak, as much as his heart soared, something shifted deep inside him. Like a strong stomach ache suddenly coming to life, Will's throat felt like it was locking up. Panic, Will thought at first, but he wasn't experiencing anything else. Chalking it up to adrenaline, Will stared up at Blue peacefully, quirking an eyebrow.
"What do you mean?" Will asked slowly, eyeing the boy in front of him. Glancing down at he spoke, Blue faltered for a moment as he sensed the confusion in Will's voice. He looked contemplative, hesitant as he watched Will's expression shift ever so slightly. Like he was tasting the words before the spoke, getting a feel for the waters he was about to delve into, Blue clamped his tongue between his teeth for a split second before he carried on.
"The night you left my house and got in your accident," Blue admitted suddenly, his voice growing softer, "you rolled to fireball the Dem— the monster, the Demogorgon. You didn't cast protection, like you could have."
Blue's voice was almost childlike with excitement, or maybe pride, giving Will's hand a tender squeeze of affirmation as he spoke.
"You'd done it before, I don't know why I remember, but you did. You've done it before, years ago, back in 7th grade. You always do it, Will. You got it this time, but... it wasn't even that, though. It's not about the game. You were always so ready to just jump into things. You never cared about what the consequences might be, you know? That night you got hurt, everyone was leaving, and you sat there in the basement with me and you told me you—"
"—Rolled a seven."
Like a cool gust of wind had rushed right through the narrow channels of Will's veins, the previously grumbling stomach ache grew into a thunderous roar throughout Will's body. The words had escaped his lips like they were propelled by jet power. He hadn't even known where they'd come from, but as his eyes fell and he stared into the caramel brown of Blue's dress jacket, Will felt their presence reverberate inside of him and his fingers clutched at Blue's hand.
"... What?"
Will couldn't force his body to work properly, but he knew as he stared numbly into the fabric, Blue must have been staring down at him with a shock so raw that he could have sent Will reeling.
"Will, I... No, you..." Blue fumbled as though he didn't know what to approach first, his fingers suddenly growing tighter against Will's as Blue's other hand found Will's upper arm.
"Will," Blue began, fingers easing against Will's upper arm, "that night you got hurt, you told me that you loved me."
Suddenly, like century old icebergs cracking and splintering apart, the protective plate that hovered over everything Will had been trying to grasp shattered. He could see color, full color, dining room tables and multi-facetted dice and game boards pieces and Blue's face. Over and over, younger, but Blue.
Younger but still him.
"W...wait....you— you... remembered that," Blue uttered in sudden understanding, his words nothing more than a breath.
Will spoke, and his words held a weight like they'd been cooped up inside him for centuries.
"S...seven....T...That night.... Years ago....I..... I rolled...." Will spoke, his voice feeling like it was echoing a million miles away from his physical body, and like a switch had been flicked inside of his brain, his muscles went slack and his fingers loosened from Blue's, the corners of his vision flashing with dim, black splotches, and Will's legs gave out from underneath him.
He hit the ground hard, but not in any particular spot that mattered. Every inch of his body took the toll, where his head had been the primary victim only just over a month before. His skin was alive like each and every nerve ending was hot and exposed, and as Will felt the loose chips of asphalt dig into the backs of his pant legs, he stared upwards in a daze, only half capable of seeing Blue kneeling down towards him as he—
—spared a small wave goodbye to Dustin and Lucas as they both traipsed upstairs, disappearing through the open door at the top of the steps and shutting it with a pleasant click. The basement was toasty, even more so for Will as he sat on the right side of the couch, a thick, slightly oversized knit sweater adorning his upper body as he tucked himself into the cushions. He didn't know how long it would take him to pick up his nerves and get going, but he knew it wasn't going to be quick enough to stop the conversation Will could sense was about to happen.
Of course it was going to happen, Will had thought. He never leaves these things alone. I don't know why he never leaves it alone. It happens all the time.
This time it was different, though. He could ignore it all he wanted and act as stubborn as he felt he could, but this time was different. Troy didn't just heckle Will over his shoes, or his hair, or the way that he walked. He said something else.
It was different.
"Will?"
His throat had felt like it had a clenched hand tightened around it as Will turned to look at the boy next to him. He looked just as soft and sleepy as Will did; wrapped in a deep blue turtleneck with a heavy throw draped over his shoulders as his arms slid around his knees. Where the boy was facing him head on, chin resting against his kneecap, Will was turned towards the stairs like he was waiting for a way out. He knew how easy it would be to just run, but why would he?
"...Will?"
Glancing back towards the dark haired boy, Will felt his chest seize once more.
"Yeah?" he mustered. Inching back a bit and straightening up, the boy let his knees fall into a crossed position as he watched Will.
"Is it true?" he asked plainly, hardly skipping a beat as his eyes fixed on Will's expression.
Will could feel his heart hammering against his chest, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Placing a hand on his thigh and beginning to fuss with the seam on his jeans, Will couldn't carry on the respectful act of keeping eye contact with his friend. Turning his gaze down, Will let out a long breath. When he didn't respond quick enough, the boy began again.
"I know he picks on you a lot, and I know he says stupid stuff, Will, but," he carried on, eyes never leaving Will's face, "I need to know if what he said today was actually true."
"Would you be mad if it was?" Will whispered suddenly, every drop of blood in his veins feeling like it was draining out of him. He felt woozy from the panic, from the strain against his nerves. Nevertheless, he didn't budge.
As though Will had just made a solid crack, the boy across from him let out a short, startled laugh.
"Would I be mad?" he demanded quietly, unfolding himself and scooting across the couch so that he was within no more than two feet of Will's trembling frame. Will thought his fight or flight might kick in any second, and he would flee up the stairs like a startled animal. He remained, unmoving, and the boy continued.
"Will, I— that's stupid. I couldn't never be mad at you for something like that. Otherwise, I'd have to be mad at myself, too," the boy carried on, releasing one side of the blanket over him as he reached out and snatched Will's hand away from it's spot on his leg. He clutched it tight, a reassuring squeeze, then a whisper that Will thought might tear his heart right out of his chest.
"If it's true, then that's good. Because—" the boy began, his voice seeming to catch as he stared down at their conjoined hands, "—because, I... I feel the same."
Will was suddenly, violently aware of every single inch of his body. He was aware of the way his cheeks had lit up, the way his fingers folded against the boy's like their hands were created to be held by each other. Raising his head, Will finally twisted a bit to look at him.
"You do?"
Biting back a smile, the boy's eyes grew soft, searching Will's face for what seemed like ages.
"Always have," he responded, slowly, and through the haze that Will felt descending over his thoughts, he could have sworn that he felt—
like he'd been whipped across the forehead with a baseball bat. His vision was sinking in and out, his heart running full speed like he'd just completed a 20K marathon in 10 minutes. He could feel arms, one set, wrapped around him, and he was in a tight embrace for a moment, feeling the warmth of another human being against his own chilled body.
He couldn't see, but he could feel. The pinch of the gravelly bits beneath him on the parking lot, the sensation of the cool winter wind biting at the exposed part of his neck. He couldn't see, but he could feel, could hear, dully but surely, and he could smell, oh he could smell. He could smell, as he had for weeks, the strong scent of cinnamon, sugar and—
—flour, please," Will mumbled softly as he peered down at the oversized apron he'd tied around his waist, dusting his fingers off on the fabric. The sun was streaming dutifully through the kitchen window above the sink, one of the last truly warm days in the early fall of '85, and from behind him as he peered into the bowl of ingredients before him, Will could hear the sound of his best friend fumbling with glass jars in the cupboard. He didn't have to look behind him to know exactly what the boy was doing. He was doing what he always did when they baked things together: nothing overtly useful.
Glancing back over his shoulder and wiping the baking powder dusted back of his hand against his forehead, Will watched in utter amusement as the dark haired boy in front of him sat lazily on the kitchen counter, his torso twisted to the left as he attempted to ease half a bag of flour out of the cupboard like a stubborn pet. Will let out a disbelieving laugh, and as the dark haired boy glanced towards him, his eyes seemed to light up.
"Got something to say, Byers?" he asked coyly, fishing the bag off of the shelf and scooting a couple inches over towards the sink, offering the bag out to him. Turning away from his work, Will took a few tentative steps towards the boy, shrugging his shoulders.
"Mm... nothing. Nothing at all, lazy pants," Will chided as he reached out for the bag, halting as the boy swung it out of his reach. Putting on a hasty frown, Will reached out once more, but the boy stretched out once again. A pout, now, washed over Will's face.
"Asshole," he murmured. This coerced a pure, unbridled laugh from the boy in front of him, and though he'd never admit it for as long as he lived, Will's heart sung in that moment.
"You've got names today, huh? Oh, whatever. You want it that bad?" the boy urged, watching Will's face with a look of undoubted mischief as he dipped his hand into the bag. Will, knowing the way this always worked, began to spin away in the other direction, but he was only a moment too late.
The boy lifted his cupped fingers out of the bag and flung a good few tablespoons of flour in Will's direction, earning a yelp from the Byers boy as the flour landed against the side of his neck and tainted his hair. Facing the small island in the boy's kitchen, Will's fingers gripped the counter for only a second before his eyes had landed on the small dish of baking powder he'd left there. A blessing in disguise, Will cringed as another bout of flower landed on his back, a sly smile breaking across his lips as he dipped his fingers into the powder and twisted back to face his assailant.
"Oh, you want to play games—" Will began, but as he turned fully and threw his hand forward, he felt the sudden grab of his wrists as the boy, off the counter and only a foot or so from him then, took a solid dose of baking powder to the forehead. Will's eyes flew open wider and a tiny gasp escaped his lips as he stared into the boy's face, his expression screwed up as Will watched tiny pieces of the powder fall against his shut eyelids, his eyelashes tainted with the white dust. As Will stared at him, one wrist clutched gently in the boy's grip, the boy let out a small but sharp exhale, and a plume of powder blew from the tip of his nose. This was enough to send Will into a fit of giggles.
"You think it's funny, huh?" the boy tried to chide, his voice only half serious as a slow smile wormed it's way onto his lips. His eyes still pressed tightly shut, Will tried his best to stifle his laughter as he reached out with his free hand, sliding his fingers through the boy's bangs as he shook out the thick layer of baking powder. The boy flinched only lightly, his hand flying up to grab at Will, though he was quickly smacked away.
"I think it's really funny, actually," Will murmured, his voice soft now as his fingers worked delicately at the dust, running his fingers over the boy's eyelids and brushing the ingredient away. Once he felt safe enough, Will still dusting the powder from his raven hair, his eyes fluttered open, meeting Will's gaze in an instant. Will's hands froze, and he would have remained standing there like a stone statue only a foot away from the boy's face for as long as he'd been allowed if a sharp voice from behind them hadn't shocked him out of his stupor.
"What the hell!" Nancy yelped, watching as Will turned back towards her, his face flushing a bright red. An embarrassed smile was his only true response, and she shook her head impatiently, trying to keep a straight face though it really didn't seem to be working.
"Jesus... you guys better clean this up, or I swear to god—"
"We'll clean it, Nance. Do you want cookies or not?" the dark haired boy across from Will spoke, and as he did so, Will could hear his voice drifting back as he put more distance between them. Whatever inches he was creating between them quickly turned to feet, and Will could feel the space stretching and bending much too far for his tastes.
Come back, Will had thought. Stay here. Just for a little bit longer. It doesn't need to mean anything, because I know it doesn't. I just need you to—
"—answer me, Will, please," Blue urged, his fingers wrapped around the boy's upper arms as he knelt down in front of him. Will could hear him plenty, though his voice seemed to reverberate around the inside of Will's brain. He felt like he'd been struck, his vision slowly returning but still much too blotted out and fuzzy for him to really be able to focus on anything. His heart hadn't slowed; it still yammered to no end against his ribcage, like it wanted to bust right through. Colors danced against the backs of Will's eyelids, information flooding through him like someone had busted the floodgate that had been holding everything back. All at once was too much, too much, or was it not enough?
It was never enough.
He could feel adrenaline coursing through him like acid, only adding to the throbbing inside his brain as the wind—
--whipped past him. It was that night again, of course, that night, and Will knew it. He was there, for a moment, but more like he was there in the sense that he was watching the night through the screen of an old television. He wasn't there, but he was. He wasn't there, in that moment, but that night he had been. It was that night. That same night he'd felt first, before anything else.
That night, Will felt the most present in his own body that he'd ever been in all of his 14 years. He was there, fully, unabashedly. He was there, in love, and the person he loved felt the same. God, what a feeling that was. To love and be loved back.
He saw himself riding down Mirkwood, his fingers wrapped tightly around his handlebars as his legs stretched out to their full potential. He wasn't sitting, god, Will had been too full of pure energy, too full of pure love and an extraordinary sense of tranquility to sit down. So down the road he had soared, standing up on the pedals, his hair pushed back from his face as the cool wind whipped past him.
He was screaming, Will remembered. He was screaming, not out of fright or out of anger but out of raw happiness. He was soaring down the street, only the streetlights keeping him company at such an unholy hour, and he was screaming. Loud and proud, not afraid of who might hear him, what did he care? He couldn't find it in him to be courteous to anyone sleeping, he didn't care. He didn't care. He was in love, he was, he knew it, and the boy he loved felt the same way.
He could have died right then, in that blissful state of rippling joy, and he would have been content with that for the most part. Inside of the memory playing against the backs of his eyelids like an old super 8 film, he nearly did.
He didn't die, that was evident. Death would have been merciful.
Instead, he'd lost everything.
The film spun and spun and Will remembered the sudden crack he'd heard as the tire of his bike had slipped off the side of the road, turning him onto his side and throwing him shoulder and head first into the incredibly steep ditch on the side of the road. The opening to the path home. He had been nearly home then, almost in the safety of his own house, but he hadn't quite made it. He'd been happy and screaming out praises and in love, so much so, and in an instant, as his head had met the packed earth that made up this pathway, everything had been stolen from him and like so, the film memory playing inside of his brain caught fire, everything splintering into a violent white.
I lost you the night we found each other, Will's thoughts screamed.
He wanted to cry, needed to cry, but he was ripped back, stripped away, the memory resonating and staying but being drawn back like he was zooming out, and suddenly he was—
--being shaken, ever so gently but enough to pull him out of his head like he'd simply been dreaming the entire time. His vision had dwindled back into it's regular state, but somehow, it seemed clearer, even if only in comparison. There were no splotches in his sight, and his hearing was practically pristine, no longer shrouded in what felt like empty auditorium echoes. He could see now, clearly, literally and figuratively, and as he stared upwards into Blue's terrified eyes, Will began to weep.
He'd been crying all week, hell, he'd been crying a lot lately, but this was different. There was nothing sad about his tears this time, only reconnaissance, understanding. He got it then, he really did. He got that pain, that hurt that Blue was feeling.
He'd felt all of it, at least the majority of it, in a matter of minutes.
"Will, please," Blue whispered, his hands tight on Will's jacket as he stared down into Will's face with demanding eyes. He needed to know what had happened, but how could Will explain that? How could he? He was still reeling, his brain tumbling over and over like a running washing machine. He stared up at Blue instead of speaking, words feeling utterly meaningless as he examined his face, and suddenly, Blue was nothing and everything all at once. Like an explosive blast to the back of Will's brain, the part that had been hiding so, so well. He realized then, as his fingers tightened, that he was holding onto the boy for dear life.
Will gazed up at him, and he could only imagine through the violent expulsion of reconnaissance that had just coursed through his brain, that his face must have been one of pure, unadulterated love. Love, of course, like it always had been. Love in the way that Will wondered if he'd ever experienced anything else.
In a blind, unfocused moment, gripping onto Blue's jacket sleeves like a vice, Will wondered if there was ever a time when he wasn't fully in love with the boy kneeling in front of him.
He was Blue, but god, he was so much more. He was the smell of cinnamon and sugar, the scent of cedar and calloused fingers and the feeling of sweaters borrowed, nights spent awake and days spent sleeping with knees tangled together and foreheads tucked into shoulders. Long days spent in the kitchen baking cookies and bread and ending up with flour all over their clothes, whispering secrets and kind words through giggles erupting in their chests. Words and feelings and everything colliding at once in a supernova of feeling, emotion, and god, love. Love so blind, so honest that it ached inside Will's chest like a cavity. And that word. Swimming around behind Will's eyelids like a flashing neon sign.
He was Blue, but right then, he was every shade of every color visible to a human eye. He was more than that, even. He was everything.
Everything.
Everything.
"...Will?" the boy before him whispered once more, every image that Will had of him becoming brittle and shattering as he spoke.
As Will's fingers loosened around the fabric of his childhood best friends blazer, instead looping tenderly around his upper arms, Will met the boy's eyes for the first time in what felt like hours, and though the cold wind whipped at the side of his face, Will felt nothing but a long awaited warmth deep inside of him.
Gazing up into that familiar pitch black stare, Will could feel his eyes brimming and blurring before his fingertips even brushed the tear stained skin of the boy's cheeks. That word. That word he'd fought so hard for felt like a breeze against his lips.
Leaning forward, Will's fingers found the boy's cheek, and through his tears he let out a choked, careless laugh. The type of laugh that could only exist in some sort of paradise on earth, and Will was in it, right then.
"Mike," Will whispered.