Chapter Text
PROLOGUE
Radio I
“And now, by the power vested in me, you are now husband and wife.”
An echo of cheers erupts around him. It comes in a wave of colors, the flurry lines of everyone's formal black and white suits, of the matching periwinkle bridesmaid gowns adorned by Max and Nancy who wipe away the stray tears that make their eyes all glassy. He stares at the way their friends and family turn their happy faces toward the newlywed couple just a shoulder-width apart from him.
He watches as his best friend, the love of his life— marry Mrs. Jane Teresa Wheeler. His eyes focus on the faraway A-frame sign at the end of the aisle:
Welcome to our Wedding
Michael & Jane
March 8th, 1989
“Will! Come on! Everyone is outside already!” Max insistently taps at the toe of his dress shoes with her cane. Her brilliant red hair tied up in fancy ironed curls and butterfly clips; her blue-violet dress compliments her fair skin and freckles beautifully. Lucas stands just behind her, his own hair braided back while his dark suit and white cufflinks make him all the more handsome. He has one hand at her elbow as a steady crunch towards the exit.
Will jerks into action, following the crowd that moves outside the church venue. He remembers when El had picked it, a little church just on the outskirts of Hawkins where a sunshine meadow frames at its back. Just like he remembers every yellow blowball dandelion on every bouquet of flowers, the grassy moss that covers the canopy atop of the wedding arbor that hangs with weeping leaf stalks— an idea he thought would create the vision El had in her head.
Jane— his beloved sister by choice. The girl who had gone out of her way to try and find him inside the upside down.
I would rather be there than here right now.
Will blinks away the thought, bumping his shoulder against Derek Turnbow who looks a lot taller than the last time he remembered him. The boy has his hand stuffed inside one of the steel pails filled with grains of rice they are meant to throw at the newlyweds.
Newlyweds.
Will turns his head in time to watch the way Robin stumbles into him, her periwinkle dress switched for a blazer and slacks, a royal blue color than purple. A darker head of red hair appears just a second later; Vickie’s short pixie shiny, with glued down pieces of curls stuck to her head. Robin bumps his shoulder.
“You will not believe who we found making out in Father Simon’s confessional booth!”
“More like we almost got caught––”
Robin turns and wildly jerks her hands up at Vickie. “Wait! Do you think it was that obvious?”
Will looks at the way Vickie gives her girlfriend a deadpan sort of look he understood. Sometimes Robin could be a little... dense?
In a faraway distance, a steady cadence of church bells begins to ring throughout the meadow.
“It’s perfect...”
Will watches Jane look out towards the giant well that stood at a cliff’s edge. A five-foot-tall brick well, all white seafoam sedimentary rock and enormous white pope church bells. A gold ribbon synched at it’s middle. It was beautiful.
Then he turned his head and all the air inside his lungs evaporated.
Mike stood at the cliffs edge. His dark mop of curls chopped short and wavy at the nape. His head was thrown back, eyes blissfully closed as a giant gust of wind breezes on by them and ruffles his light summer shirt and shorts. His lips were slated upwards, soft wrinkles that gave away to awkward dimples. Then Mike turns his head. His long eyelashes flutter and squint against the sunlight— they go round and shiny when he looks at Will. Mike’s smile grows softer, his head tilting ever so slightly in his oblivious nature.
Jane was right. It was perfect.
“Get your own!” Will flinches at the sound of Derek’s shrill voice that rings against his ear. Robin was slightly hunched over Derek to get to the pail of rice. Derek chews loudly at the raw grains, when she gives up and waves a hand up in the air.
“Sure, I guess we’d just throw nonexistent rice—” Robin starts as another bout of church bells rings into what seems like his chest. Pulling his lungs right out of him and then back down under again. A distant memory at the back of his head of all the missed telephone calls he rang to Mike that summer. Every missed call chipping away at the cracks around his heart.
Will manages to peel the pail away from the younger boy–– granted with the help of Erica Sinclair who threatens Derek very publicly and very convincingly. On either side Robin and Derek push into him while the crowd starts to become more packed together. The pressure on both sides makes the sweat that collects underneath his collar feel murky and stuck to his skin. He takes one careful step back.
“Hey— are you okay?” asks Robin. Her face inches closer to his but he looks away with a nod he hopes makes him look okay.
“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Robin doesn’t look very convinced when he sneaks a glance at her. Someone cheers and she’s distracted all over again.
“Oh! Oh! Here they come!!” Robin says excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. He takes another step back just when the crowd inches closer to the entryway of the church. When someone starts to clap does is hands start to shake.
Sweat damps at the sides of his face–– his breath slightly shallow the moment Jane steps out in a pearl white dress, shorter than the one she had walked down the aisle with. There’s a giant smile on her face as everyone begins to throw grains of rice. Every grain like a bullet on concrete, a curtain of rain inside his ears as the church bells chime and shrill at the beat of a telephone ring.
Will sees their interlaced hands first before Mike steps out to join her. Adorned in black and white, like an old photograph, Mike stands there looking just as handsome as the first time he realized he was in love with him. Tall and lean, his suit tailored to fit the lines of his body perfectly. He could have laughed at the irony if he didn’t feel so lightheaded, or maybe it was better that he couldn’t feel anything at all right now. Surely, he would have been hysterically laughing straight into a panic attack by now.
But he stands there for a moment to take them in. At their joined hands, the smiles that stretch their faces and make their eyes light up. The brown in Mike’s eyes the lightest they’ve ever been. Maybe he would have been fine today if Mike had picked up the phone. Maybe he would have been brave enough to spill his heart down on a platter for Mike to pick apart. So many decisions, but this is the one he chose. He chooses to watch his best friend marry someone else. All because he loves a boy that will never love him back.
He’s always known. If he believed in poets— he would have said that their destiny was written in the stars. That Mike Wheeler was always meant for a happy ending like this one. He got the girl–– the castle, horse, and carriage.
And what did he get?
He has himself. Good friends. An amazing family. But he wasn’t destined for love. Not from anyone. Not from Mike.
This is how their story ends.
The crowd distracted and inching ever closer to the couple fail to notice as he stands stagnant and further away. Dustin and Lucas crowd Mike on either side, clapping his back and pulling him into tight embraces. Hopper has Jane wrapped inside his arms like he doesn’t want to let go, while Kali rubs his back. He licks his lips and fiddles with the crippled piece of paper inside his pocket. His story ends here.
“Will?”
Will sucks in a sharp breath and looks up to find his mother Joyce standing a distance away from him. The wedding guests were now crowded around the chevvy Impala, decorated in fancy streamers, his own art shown back at him with the words “Just Got Married!!”
Her dress sways when she takes a step towards him. Will takes a step back. He watches his mother’s expression flicker with concern, the worry so familiar he already knows what she’s going to say before she can say it. Joyce moves closer, so much closer by the time he blinks again and heaves a breath. His mom nervously licks her lips.
“What’s wrong? Is it––?”
“It’s not mom, I’m fine.” Will says, his voice thick and strained, the tears hot behind his eyes but have not yet fallen. Joyce tilts her head in confusion. “Then tell me what’s wrong, sweetie, what’s wrong––?”
Wil flinches back at the words without meaning to. Because that was the problem, wasn’t it? It’s all over her face that she has no idea as to why he’s so upset. That his heart is breaking into two pieces in the shape of Mike and El, that he can’t stand it anymore. His mom doesn’t know. No one knows. Except for Robin. But she doesn’t know the full truth, she barely scratches the surface. She’s older, she has a girlfriend, she wasn’t alone. And even if he were to tell his mom, would she look at him differently? Would she leave him too?
She wouldn’t understand the crippling loneliness. The constant, vicious cycle inside his head that asks him if he was made all wrong. Looking for answers that aren’t there. Finding them in people— but ending up disappointed and made the fool. If this thing is a chemical imbalance in his brain–– the–the–– debilitating self-hatred. The tears finally run freely down his face. He turns his back to her and presses an arm up to his eyes.
“Hey, hey–– talk to me, Will. You can talk to me.” Joyce encourages gently, at his back as she lays a heavy hand on top of his shoulder.
POP! CRACK!
They jump at the sound of firecrackers and sparklers. The guests roar with another round of cheers that jars him back into reality. The creak of the church door hinges jerks Will into action, only knowing that he does not want anyone to see him like this. He turns towards the meadow, stretched out in a giant field. His shoes scuffle against grovel, the church bells calling to him before he darts forward.
“Wait! Will!”
Joyce shouts after. He ignores it in favor of getting away from the sounds of firecrackers and cheerful laughter.
Will gets as far as the tree line before Joyce catches up with him. He heaves a breath, it rattles off his lips while she huffs.
“What–– What’s going on.” Joyce tries to catch her breath, wheezing at a stitch at her side. Will gulps and shakes his head up to the sky as if there would be an answer suitable enough to placate his mother. If he lied now, she would know. There was no way he could pretend everything was fine when his face was wet with tears and his throat aching so badly with repressed screams. So, he says nothing.
Joyce takes another steady breath in. Her arms come up to wrap around her shoulders, her usual wild hair slicked back into a neat bun. She sniffs.
“You know... I remember when you were just a boy–– you used to tell me everything.” She licks her lips and smiles, “Literally everything. I mean, what kid tells their mom they pooped five times in one day?”
Will huffs an unexpected laugh.
Joyce laughs too, breathy and fading the more the sun sets behind her. Her lips twist, her eyes grow bright and red with unleashed tears as she too looks up at the sky before she gives him a half-hearted shrug.
“But then... one day you just,” Joyce shakes her head, “stopped.”
The way her voice breaks makes something in his chest reach out to her. Then another greater force pulls him back by the neck. One he has been familiar with since he was a kid, even before he was taken by Vecna. The fear that everyone would leave him, because of what he is.
Joyce wipes away a tear. “But you’re not a boy anymore, I know that. You made me realize that. You made me realize how much you’ve truly grown, how much you’ve become this–– this amazing person.” Her voice shakes with unrepressed emotion. Will turns fully to her, at the way she smiles and covers her mouth when they curl again to cover the sob that wants to break free.
She squeezes her eyes shut and gulps. “You’ve grown so much, and I know I’m just mom to you–– sometimes you’re not going to tell me what goes on in that big, beautiful head of yours,” she smiles tentatively up at him, “but that's the beauty about being your mom, I get a life where someday you can. Because I’ll be here. I’ll always be here for you.”
She looks up at him with her big brown eyes and whispers, “I love you, my sweet boy. You are... so loved.”
He is... speechless. He can only stare at the way his mom opens herself up to him, in that quiet vulnerability they’ve always shared together. Right here, right in front of him. The version of herself that she only reserves for him. The part of her that always made him feel special.
That always made him feel safe.
You are... so loved.
The words are there. In the dry swallow of his adams apple, in the twitch of his hand, the fresh wave of hot tears that trail down from out the corners of his eyes. He looks at his mom and chokes back a sob. The words tumble right out of him.
“I–I love Mike––” He gasps, strained, trying to get air inside his lungs when he sees her face screw up in surprise. His voice comes out hurried and breathless, “I’m––” he takes one deep breath.
“I’m gay... mom.” He feels his face completely break. The mask cracked and falling down onto his feet as the rush of adrenaline travels up his body in the form of goosebumps. He violently shivers and shrinks in on himself.
“Mom–– I’m scared.”
His voice breaks around the words. The sob finally unleashes itself, the fear running rampant inside of him with nowhere else to go but down onto the grassy meadow. Will presses his head hard into the dirt, his sobs howling past his lips–– unheard in the balance between laughter, firecrackers, and church bells.
Warm hands press into his shoulders until he feels Joyce pulling him into her lap, tucking his head into the curve of her neck like she always used to do when he was sick. She starts to rock them, disjointed by their size differences, but it only makes him cry even harder. She wraps her arms around him, squeezing him when she presses a kiss to the side of his head.
“You’re going to be okay, my brave–– brave boy.” She looks down at him, their eyes catch, and he realizes he hadn’t looked her in the eye, not fully. She looks just the same as always.
“Y–You don’t know that.” Will blubbers, Joyce smiles all soft and sad.
“I do, because I know you... and you know yourself too.” She pets his hair back.
“You always have. You are the person who believes in you... the ones who matter? Who truly matter,” she emphasis with the sure nod of her head, “will soon follow.”
“... and the ones who won’t?”
Joyce heaves a heavy sigh but holds her shoulder up in a shrug.
“Then it’s not meant to be... and that’s okay. But you want to know the real answer?” Joyce asks, Will nods. She inches closer to him as if she is sharing a secret.
“It usually means that something better waits for you.”
Will gulps around those words and wishes he could believe her. He knows in the realm of reality, that there should be someone better than Mike. Someone just for him. A life where he doesn’t have to hide, to wear masks, to pretend to be the person he’s not. It exists. It’s in the crippled ticket inside his pocket. A city where he can get lost and never come back.
But he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay.
He wants too much. Always has. Maybe he always will. He shoves his face into the nook of his mother’s neck again and lets her hold him for just a little while longer. Let’s himself be the scared little boy that survived the upside down.
Maybe that was the forever curse of a sinner.
Maybe he was destined to listen to the church bells that ring so close, making their judgement calls in lost voicemail boxes.
When he looks off into the golden meadow again, his breath catches at the way the sunset colors the tips of swaying wheat flowers in silver refractions. The orange that reminds him of Californian deserts and constant blue skies, the sun blistering on his naked skin. Then he sees it, the start of his muse. Maybe the start of his new life.
But it won’t be here.
No matter how much he wants.
It’s a sinner’s forever curse.
Because the devil never answers when it’s called upon.