Chapter Text
Will wishes he was El.
Okay, maybe he’s being a tad bit dramatic. She went through a lot, he would absolutely not want to live with the hell she went through, but he also went through hell too. Will supposes he’s being a bit selfish for that thought.
He sighs, flopping down onto his bed with his headphones on. He’d become a big fan of the song, ‘Boys don’t cry’ by The Cure. It could sometimes keep his mind off the horrible things in his own mind. Who was he kidding? That was a lie. If anything, it would only make him think of it more until the point he was just sitting there, practically wallowing in self-pity.
This time, he knew that things weren’t going to get better. That was what the drugs were for. Will was on all types of medications. Stress, depression, anxiety. Really anything Joyce could get her hands on. And he felt bad for her too. That it was just getting worse. The meds weren’t really helping, it only would if he tried to overdose. Some nights he was more fond of the idea of that than others.
Will was certain that his friends knew about the pills he was on and the meetings with the counselor, even if Will hadn’t told them. But Mike was clueless, Will was sure Mike missed the times that he popped a pill in his mouth by the lockers, or walked hastily away to go to the counselors office. He was thankful they didn’t say anything about it or bring up his chronic depression. Because, once again, that was what the drugs were for.
Some days, Will liked to tell himself that he didn’t understand why he was on all these drugs and meds, or why he was always so miserable. Deep down, he knew. He knew he himself struggled his whole life with this stuff. It got worse when he bottled it up. He thought back to the time when in that stupid, stupid Surfer Boy’s Pizza van.
“What an idiot.” He muttered to himself.
Will knows that he shouldn't blame himself for the way that Mike and El's relationship was crumbling at that time, but he can't help but believe it was his fault. He felt horrible. He knew that Mike and El loved each other, so it just made it worse when he was reminded of the fact that he loved Mike too. It was the same feeling that you might feel if you were drowning in a pool, but the cover was closed and there was just barely enough room to breathe, so you were still alive but dying slowly.
Will couldn't take it anymore.
He got up, sighing and hastily shoving the pack of cigarettes and lighter on his dresser into his jacket pocket. He needed a way to relieve some stress, especially during the autumn when the anniversary of the Upside Down was coming up. So screw it, Will has a few bad habits. It's fine. He'll be fine.
Walking out the door, a breeze hits him. God, Will hates autumn and the way the cool breeze just serves to bring memories of the icy, cold Upside Down atmosphere. It reminds him all too well of when he was possessed, constantly shivering and shaking. Even after his possession and even with Vecna gone, whenever a cold breeze hit him, he almost felt as if he might as well be back in the Upside Down. Some days he wished he was anyway. Left to die, that way he could get what he wanted. His own death.
As he is pulling out his cigarette, working to light it, Jonathan, his brother, comes out of the house. Of course.
"Really, Will?" Jonathan said, looking disappointed, sighing as he noticed the now-lit cigarette in between Will's fingers. Jonathan just sighs, looking away and going back into the house, seemingly done with him. Upset.
It seemed that maybe Jonathan was just giving up on Will, the way he already gave up on himself all those years ago.
He couldn't blame him. But Will wasn't going to try and focus on that, he was just going to go back to his cigarette. Quiet and moping. He'll just take his meds and be expected to be happy. It was bullshit. It was what the drugs were for though. Right?