Chapter Text
It’s 3pm, the curtains are drawn in the living room, and Nightmare on Elm Street is playing on the TV, and even though it’s at one of the scariest parts- Tina is being dragged away by Freddy Kreuger- Will has never been less scared. If anything, he’s annoyed, and it’s all because of the whispers and giggles happening to his left on the couch.
“Mike stop,” El giggles.
“What? I’m serious. I can’t see,” Mike jokes. He’s wearing the light-blocking glasses he made from a pizza box, the ones that El used in the sensory deprivation tank. “Did the power go out? Why is everything dark?”
It’s the dumbest joke but somehow El can’t get enough of it, still laughing. She gestures to his glasses. “You did this to yourself, Mike!”
“I didn’t pay the electricity bill? Shit, my bad.” This causes El to let out another round of giggles and Mike grins at her reaction. “This is what I get for being cheap, I guess.”
“You need money.”
“I need money?”
“Yes,” El laughs, playing along. “You need money to pay the bill.”
“You got any?”
El shakes her head, beaming at him. “No, I don’t.”
“I don’t either.” And now Mike laughs, at his joke or the happy little bubble him and El are in, Will really can’t tell. Whatever the reason, he knows he should be happy for them. Happy that his friend is happy. Happy that his sister is happy.
But he... he just can’t.
Something inside him breaks and he stands up from the couch, chest rising and falling. And when neither of them notice, something inside him breaks again. He clears his throat and they both look at him.
“Who’s there?” Mike stretches his arms in front of him. “Krueger, is that you?”
“No, it’s me, Mike.” Will isn’t in the mood to entertain him. “It’s Will.”
“Will,” Mike’s voice turns suddenly earnest. “Will, I have something to ask you.” It sounds meaningful, but he’s still wearing the glasses, so Will is skeptical. But his stupid heart speeds up anyways.
“Yeah?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now,” Mike says, sounding nervous. “It’s a big ask, but... I have to know.”
Will’s mouth goes dry. What the hell was he talking about? He swallows anxiously. “Y-Yeah?”
“Can...” Mike pauses dramatically. Will feels like his heart is going to burst. “Can you pay the electricity bill?”
El giggles at this, leaning further into Mike’s side, and Will just stares at them, the sounds of Krueger attacking his victim in the background, a fitting soundtrack for how he felt. He clenches his fists to his side. “No, Mike,” he says flatly. “I can’t.”
“Noooo,” Mike throws his hands in the air. “I’m doomed to darkness forever!”
“Here,” El says, reaching her hands up to pull his glasses off. She smiles at him fondly. “All fixed.”
Mike blinks quickly, like he’s adjusting to the light. “El... you did it.”
“I did it,” she repeats.
He wraps an arm around his shoulders. “You fixed the power, El. You’re my hero.”
El giggles, her eyes crinkling in the way they do when she’s happy. “You’re welcome.”
They go silent, turning back to the TV, and it’s only then that Will realizes he’s still watching them, tears stinging his eyes- when did that happen? He shakes his head and jerks a thumb toward the hallway. “I’m gonna go.”
Mike turns to him, slightly distracted, and nods. “Cool.”
He’s not even going to ask why he’s leaving? “Cool,” Will chokes out, and then turns around to leave before he does something embarrassing like breaking down in tears in front of them. Although if he did, he wasn’t sure if either of them would even notice. “See you guys,” he adds, when he reaches the doorway, just to see if either of them respond. They don’t. Of course. Maybe the TV was too loud. Maybe they just didn’t hear him. Maybe he said it in his head but not out loud, because he does that all the time.
But the most realistic possibility was that they just didn’t notice. It wasn’t malicious. It wasn’t on purpose. It was like Will was a fly buzzing around them and they tuned it out because they didn’t feel like getting the fly swatter. Or something. Jesus Christ, comparing yourself to a fly? That’s pathetic. He shakes his head and walks over to the stairs, heading up to the Wheelers’ guest bedroom.
At first, staying at the Wheelers’ house while Hawkins rebuilt itself sounded like a dream come true. Him and Mike living together, repairing their friendship, hanging out like the old days, which might’ve been accurate if they were still twelve years old. But not now, not when it also meant that El was also living with them, not when it meant that his home life was now a never-ending third-wheeling roller rink nightmare, not when he one day found himself actually wishing to go back to California, where he had barely any friends and hated his classes. That’s when he knew it was bad.
“Hey,” a voice at the top of the stairs jolts him out of his thoughts. Will looks up to see Jonathan standing at the top, about to head down. “Everything okay?” The brotherly concern is obvious in his voice and a lump forms in Will’s throat.
“Yeah,” he nods, climbing the final few steps until he was next to him. “Just a sad movie.”
Jonathan pauses, the sounds of Nightmare on Elm Street playing in the background, almost comically. He quirks an eyebrow, a habit he picked up from Nancy. “A sad movie?” Will just shrugs, and it’s like Jonathan can tell Will’s not in a joking mood because his expression softens. “Well it’s a good thing you got out of there.” The way he says it, it’s like there’s a double meaning, and Will is grateful that he understands, that he knows how to say it without actually saying it.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. Although if he’s being honest, it’s his fault for even agreeing to watch the movie in the first place. What did he expect to happen? He’s watched movies with Mike and El before, seen them snuggle into each other the further the movie went on, seen them giggle and throw popcorn at each other, so really, what was he expecting this time? That things would change? That he could handle it this time? Or maybe it was a sick version of exposure therapy?
But no, he knows what it is. It’s the chance of that if he was close to Mike, if he was in the same room as him, something will happen, some rekindling in their friendship, and just the chance of that happening was something he couldn’t pass up. Even while his girlfriend was perpetually in between them. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When he looks up again, Jonathan is watching him, a worried look on his face. “Hey,” he presses his lips together. “I meant to tell you this earlier, but they’re selling art supplies down on Mulberry Street. Dirt cheap, since, y’know, what happened to the school.” He pauses for a second. “Most of the stuff is probably burnt, or broken, or something like that, but you might find something good.” He fishes into his jeans pocket and pulls out a $20 bill, handing it to him. Will wonders if he had planned this, if that’s what he was headed downstairs to do. His brother’s always been good at timing like that.
“Really?”
Jonathan gives him a sincere look. “Really. You deserve it, considering...” he trails off, nodding toward the living room where the movie is playing. So he did understand.
“Thanks,” he says, tears stinging his eyes at the gesture.
“Don’t mention it.” He leans toward him conspiratorially. “And hey, if I lived with Nancy and Steve I’d need a lot more than art supplies.”
Will laughs at that, finally feeling lighter.
-
A twenty minute walk later, Will has finally made it to Mulberry Street. He could’ve rode his bike, but he wanted time to think, not only about Mike and El and how the hell he was going to survive the next... who knows how long, but also just to fully take in the changes that had happened to Hawkins. And so he did.
He watched the grass turn from a fresh green to a dying yellow to a dead gray the closer he got to the center of town, where the northern crack in the earth was. The mosquitos and flies that swarmed around him at the beginning gradually grew less and less until there was no movement at all in the air, everything completely still. The atmosphere was full of tension that made him shiver, that made goosebumps rise on the back of his neck. There were no bugs, no birds, and hardly any people around. Those who wanted to flee Hawkins had already done so and those who were brave enough to stay were firmly locked inside their homes. Fear lodged itself in Will’s chest and he almost regretted walking alone until finally, finally, he saw the town come into view. At first it was just a few people milling about, but as he walked closer he saw booths and tents and signs. Clothes. Canned goods. Sanitary items. He almost felt guilty coming to get art supplies. Privileged, in a way. But since he was there, he might as well follow through.
He weaves his way through the crowds. Although there isn’t a table marked Art supplies, there is one marked School, which sounds close enough. He beelines toward it, seeing a rickety table holding about six or seven boxes. The first few are filled with binders, folders, papers, and other stuff that he quickly skips past. Finally, he finds the box that came straight from the art room, full of paintbrushes, pencils, and markers. There are even a few mini canvases in there. His eyes light up. No way. He looks around. How was no one else fighting over this? Maybe he was the only one interested. It’s not like he wasn’t used to being the only one doing something, labeled a freak his whole life. But for the first time, he wasn’t complaining. He digs through it eagerly, inspecting the different sized paintbrushes, already envisioning different projects and paintings.
A few minutes later, someone else comes up beside him, scanning the boxes before digging into the one to his right. Will is relieved they chose a different box, although he hoped they weren’t finding anything too good considering it was one of the ones he hadn’t looked through yet. A quick glance out of the corner of his eye showed it was full of pottery and sculpting supplies and he breathes a silent sigh of relief.
“This is a goldmine,” the person whispers to themself.
“I know right?” Will replies automatically, then freezes. He wasn’t the type to strike up conversations with strangers.
“They’re just throwing all this stuff away?” The person seems unfazed, and by their voice Will could tell it was a guy. “A foolish mistake.”
A foolish mistake? Will laughs out loud at the phrasing, then tenses up, feeling awkward. “I guess it is.”
The guy stops rifling through the box and finally looks at him. He was around his age with unruly blonde hair and glasses that were slipping down his nose, freckles dotting his cheeks that Will could only see from how close they were. He coughs nervously, stepping back to create some distance between them. He wants to say something, but didn’t know what. The guy also seemed at a loss for words, staring at him. “What’s your name?” the guy finally asks.
“Will,” he replies automatically. “Will Byers.”
The guy finally pulls his gaze away, looking back down at his box. “I hope you’re not into pottery.”
“Pottery?” Will repeats. “No, uh, painting.”
“I can’t paint for shit.” The guy crinkles his noise. “But I can sculpt.”
“I can’t sculpt for shit,” Will repeats playfully. Wait, what was he saying? “I mean, I never have, but if I did, maybe I’d be good at it? I- I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
His stuttering has gotten the guy’s attention again and he’s looking at him again, smiling slightly. “Sculpting’s not that hard. It’s just forming shapes with your hands. Painting, on the other hand, takes a lot more work. Depth and colors and contrast. I...” He looks at him and looks away, almost shy. “I respect those who can perform the art.”
Will lets the words sink in. He’s never heard anyone describe painting so... eloquently. Pride fills his chest. “I never thought about it like that,” he admits. “I guess it does have a lot of, um, factors to it.”
The guy nods. They fall into a silence and Will scrambles to fill it. “What’s your name?”
“Tobias,” he says immediately, like he was expecting it. “Tobias Montgomery.”
“Will Byers,” he responds, then shakes his head, cringing. “I already said that.”
“You did.” Tobias gives him a playful look, then goes back to digging in the box. “So, what are you looking for?”
Will’s mind goes blank. What was he looking for? “Uh, you know, just paintbrushes and canvases. Anything really.”
Tobias nods and then gestures to all the people. “All these people are looking for what, food and water, when this is right here.” Will laughs at that and Tobias continues. “Basic essentials? No, art is what I need to survive.”
Will nods, amazed at the fact that someone gets it. “Yeah, exactly.”
Tobias looks pleased. “It’s like food and water are what we need to live, but art is what we need to feel alive. If that makes sense.”
Will’s mouth falls open at the quote, and he nods again, eagerly. “It makes complete sense,” he rushes out. “You- you get it.”
“I’m glad you feel the same way,” Tobias smiles at him.
“Yeah, yeah I do.” Will blushes as he says it, like he was talking about something other than the art. And Tobias seems to understand, holding eye contact with him for an extra second, before he turns back to his box, his cheeks slightly flushed.
“So what do you paint?”
“Um,” Will turns back to the box in front of him, thinking. “Fantasy stuff. Like dragons and monsters and battle scenes.”
“Straight from the imagination. I like it.”
Will has to hold back a laugh. If only that were the case. “Yeah, just whatever pops into my head.” He pauses for a second. “I draw too. There’s drawings all over my walls.” He chuckles. “My brother says it looks like an art exhibit or something.”
“That’s a sight to see.”
“You can see it if you want.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and Tobias turns to him.
“You mean that?”
Will freezes, his face reddening. Why did he say that? “I- I mean if you want to. You don’t have to-”
“No, I’d really like that.” Tobias is staring at him earnestly, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “You live close to here?”
“A twenty minute walk,” Will shrugs.
Tobias wraps his arms around the pottery box and picks it up. “Let’s go then.”
Will’s heart leaps. He looks down at his own box, hesitating. “Don’t we have to pay for all this?”
Tobias shakes his head. “They’re giving it away for free I assume. I think all of this is free,” he gestures around them. “Food for the hungry. Water for the thirsty.” He hoists his own box. “And art supplies for the starving artists who need to cope with the world ending.”
Will laughs out loud at that. “The neediest of them all.”
“Exactly,” Tobias snorts. Will grabs his box and then just like that, they’re walking back to his house. Well, technically the Wheeler’s house, but it doesn’t matter. His mind spins with questions. Was his room clean? Was his mom home? She’d ask a lot of questions. Were Mike and El still on the couch together? His heart speeds up at the idea of coming home with another friend, at what Mike’s reaction would be. Then he shakes himself out of it.
One, stop thinking about Mike.
And two, he probably wouldn’t even notice. Or would notice and forget about it a second later, too preoccupied by the girl right in front of him. Like he always was.
Before he can go too far down that depressing train of thought, Tobias is talking again, something about how art causes your brain to go into a “flow” state that makes time go faster, and then Will is listening, enraptured.
As they walk, the sun sets around them, the grass transitioning from a dull gray to soft yellow to fresh green again and Will thinks it’s a metaphor somehow. Or maybe that’s just his artistic brain talking from listening to Tobias. He’s amazed at how easily words seem to come to Tobias, at how many random insights he has about life, and he feels like he can listen to him all day. Their conversation ranges from the differences between painting and pottery to what inspires each of them to what the very first art piece was- red markings on an African rock in 100,000 B.C., according to Tobias.
And it’s interesting, it’s all so interesting, and Will is so caught up in all of it that he’s almost surprised when the Wheelers’ house comes into view.
Tobias looks around, like he was also temporarily in a different world. “Is this Maple Street?” Will nods and Tobias’s face lights up. “I live here too.” He looks around and then points to the end of the street, toward a cul-de-sac about ten houses away. “Down there.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Tobias nods happily. “8292 Maple Street.”
Will smiles. “Small world.”
“Indeed it is.”
They stare at each other for a moment before Will nervously breaks his gaze away. “Well, let’s go.”
Tobias seems to hesitate. “Sorry if I’m imposing.”
“Imposing?” Will shakes his head. “Hey, I invited you, remember?”
“Yeah, right.” Tobias looks shy. “You did.”
Will looks at him. “So you’re not... imposing,” he repeats the unfamiliar word.
“Good.”
“Good.” Will is nervous again, his hands sweaty around the box he’s holding. And then he starts heading up the driveway, his heart pounding, Tobias following behind him. He prays to God that nothing embarrassing would be happening behind the door, like Joyce singing while cooking or Jonathan smoking weed in the living room or Mike and El making out on the couch- God forbid. But it’s not dinnertime and Jonathan only smokes in his room and when he opens the door, the couch is empty. He breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, this is it,” he announces. “Home sweet home.”
Tobias steps in, looking around. “Nice place.”
“It’s technically not mine,” Will shrugs. “Long story.” When Tobias shuts the door behind him, Will hesitates. “Uh, we can head up to my room, you know, to see all my art and stuff.”
“Sounds good.”
A stair climb later, they’re in the second floor hallway. Will realizes that both Mike and El’s doors are open, which means they’re out, probably at a movie or something, which is a real possibility considering they didn’t pay any attention to the one they’d just watched.
“Everything okay?”
Will snaps out of it, realizing he was staring at Mike’s door. “Yeah, sorry.” He shakes his head. “I was just realizing that my friends are out.”
“You live with your friends?”
“Like I said,” Will shoots him a grin. “Long story.”
“I got time,” Tobias responds immediately and Will’s chest flushes at the words. Someone cares about him. Someone wants to learn more about him.
“Cool,” he says, in what he hopes is a casual way. Then he heads into his room, Tobias behind him. Will quickly scans the area for anything messy or embarrassing but luckily he’d cleaned it just this morning. Perks of having a lot of time on his hands. He turns to look at Tobias, still insecure, but Tobias is already looking at his walls, setting his own box down on Will’s desk absentmindedly as he stares at the first picture next to his doorway, one of a three-headed dragon breathing fire with a town of people shooting arrows at it.
“The dimensions are spectacular. It looks like a picture.”
“Oh c’mon,” Will rolls his eyes. “It doesn’t look like a picture.”
“Not a picture,” Tobias admits. “But a replica. It looks so realistic.”
Will turns to see if he’s flattering him or saying what he wants to hear, but he’s earnest, still staring at the picture. “Did you trace this or something?”
“Trace it?”
“Like trace over something to draw it?”
Will shakes his head. “No. No, it was freehand.”
“I envy your brain.”
Will grins. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Tobias turns to him, an excited, wild look in his eyes and Will is rooted to the spot, his entire body flushing. “There’s others?”
Will blinks quickly. “Uh- yeah. All over.” He gestures vaguely to the rest of his room, at the drawings taped messily across the walls. It might seem chaotic or messy to other people, but the drawings surrounding him were comforting. They’d acted as an escape for him, something to look at when times got hard. It was an alternate dimension where he actually had control over the monsters instead of vice versa. Where the monsters were his friends, or foes, whatever he wanted. Where he fought them with friends or alone or not at all, it didn’t matter. And someone looking at them, especially so intensely, it felt vulnerable but also... good. Like he was appreciated. Like he was seen for once.
“I like this one.”
Will sees him looking at the one above his desk, where a knight is sitting by a fire, polishing his armor. His helmet is off, revealing his spiked hair, and he’s polishing his helmet with a rag, a bottle of oil by his feet. Will’s always liked that one because it represents what happens when the fight is over, at the end of the night, when the fighters are vulnerable-
“Vulnerability,” Tobias says quietly to himself.
Will’s eyes widen. “You get it!”
“Am I the first one to guess it?”
“No,” Will chuckles softly, looking down. “You’re the first one.” He looks away. “No one else has really looked at them like you are, let alone guessed the meaning behind them.”
“A shame, really.”
Will looks at him, feeling like he was about to cry. “You mean that?”
“Yeah,” Tobias nods at him. “I do. Your art is... really good.” He thinks for a second. “And I mean that. Sorry, I don’t want to sound like I’m an art fanatic who thinks anything is good. I’ve seen some shitty paintings in my time, trust me.”
Will coughs out a laugh. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But yours are not under that category. Honestly.” Tobias is looking at him with a sudden interest. “So... tell me about that long story.”
Right, the long story of how he got to living with his friends in a house that wasn’t his. And then they’re sitting, Will on his bed and Tobias on his desk chair, and Will is talking about everything, more than he ever thought he would with a stranger. His childhood, feeling misunderstood but using art as an escape, having to move to a new school in California and struggling to make friends but still having his sister El, and moving back to Hawkins with his childhood best friend only to see that the world’s ending. And of course he leaves out any incriminating details about the Upside Down or Vecna.
But the most surprising part of all is not how he’s able to be this open, but how Tobias is hanging on every word, seeming actually interested, nodding throughout, smiling at the happy parts and frowning at the sad ones.
At one point he even reaches an arm forward in sympathy, placing it on his shoulder, and Will’s skin buzzes from the contact. Then Tobias retracts it and they’re both blushing, although Will chalks it up to nerves or awkwardness because no way is he going down that path again.
And then it’s getting dark outside and Tobias says he has to leave and Will is apologizing for talking about himself the whole time because he wants to learn more about him really and then Tobias gives him a small smile and says he can learn more about him tomorrow at around 7pm and then the address is there again. 8292 Maple Street.
Will walks him to the door. “I’ll be there.”
“You will?”
Will nods. “Definitely.”
Tobias grins at him. “See you then.”
“Yeah.” Something in Will’s chest flutters. “See you then.”
And then Will shuts the door behind him, pausing for a second and then leaning against it like he’s in a movie or something. It’s only then that he realizes he broke a personal record.
He hasn’t thought about Mike in over an hour.