Chapter Text
Will was excited about the movie date.
The Heathers wasn't coming out until March '88, so they had almost a whole month ahead. A full month of waiting that, paradoxically, felt both eternal and fleeting at the same time.
The days turned into a sweet, secret routine.
School.
Hallways full of noise, lockers slamming, teachers talking about equations or the French Revolution. Will and Chance crossed paths "by chance" several times a day: a shoulder brush in the cafeteria, a lingering look in shared class, a folded note Chance slipped him discreetly during class change ("see you tonight"). No one seemed to notice anything. Or so they hoped.
Mike was still distant. He didn't talk much to Will, and when he did, it was curt, like he was still mad about the argument at WSQK. Will felt guilty, but not enough to stop seeing Chance.
Chance.
The nights were theirs.
They slipped out with extreme care: Will waiting for Jonathan to "sleep" (though he wasn't fooling him anymore), Chance parking the truck a few streets over. They met at the streetlamp, in the woods, or straight in the truck to go somewhere secluded.
They talked about everything. Chance asked about the drawings ("did you finish that lake one yet?"), Will asked about the team ("is Andy still mad?"). They kissed a lot: slow at first, then more urgent, hands under clothes for warmth, but always stopping before going too far. "When we're ready," Chance repeated, and Will nodded, even though desire burned inside him.
They touched more: caresses on the neck, kisses on the collarbone, hands exploring under shirts. They learned each other's bodies slowly, with nervous laughs when something was awkward, with gasps when it felt right.
Will drew more. Whole pages dedicated to Chance: in the truck, under the streetlamp, asleep in bed after an exhausting night. Some were so intimate he hid them even from himself.
The tunnels.
The group met several more times at WSQK.
Will helped build the map: remembering routes from memory, drawing possible entries, marking weak points. They used old photos and careful new explorations (always in pairs, never alone). Hopper and Jane monitored military frequencies. Nancy organized shifts. Steve and Robin brought food and jokes to ease the tension.
Will felt useful. For the first time, his connection to the past served something concrete.
But he also felt like he lived in two worlds.
The group's: tunnels, Vecna, constant fear.
Chance's: kisses, laughs, movie plans.
And though the two worlds stayed separate...
Will knew they'd collide sooner or later.
The month passed like that: school, Chance, tunnels.
Slow when he was away from him.
Fast when close.
Until March came.
And with it, the date.
The Heathers.
And the promise of something more.
Will had told Chance that morning, in one of their hidden school spots—behind the gym, where no one passed.
"Today after school... go with the truck," he whispered, nervous but determined. "But park close. On the back street, where the dirt path is. So I can bike there quick and not run into anyone."
Chance looked at him, getting the plan instantly.
"Okay," he said, voice low. "And your friends?"
Will swallowed.
"That day I have math alone with Mike last period. I'll tell him I'm heading out solo today. That someone knows I'm not going straight home, so they don't worry. And before he asks anything... I run."
Chance smiled, that mischievous smile that made Will's stomach heat up.
"Perfect. I'll wait."
The day dragged.
Will barely paid attention in class. Drew in notebook margins: Chance under the moon, Chance smiling, Chance kissing him. He blushed just thinking about it.
Last period: math. Sitting next to Mike, as always.
Teacher talking quadratic equations. Mike taking notes, serious.
When the bell rang, Will packed fast.
"Hey, Mike," he said, voice casual but hurried. "Heading out solo today. Not going straight home."
Mike looked up, frowning.
"Where?"
Will was already standing, backpack on shoulder.
"Dunno, just a ride around. See you later."
And he ran before Mike could ask more.
Ran through hallways, dodging students, heart pounding from adrenaline.
Out the side door, grabbed bike from rack, pedaled fast to back street.
The blue truck was there, engine running, Chance at wheel with a huge smile.
Will jumped in, closing door.
Chance pulled away smoothly, no noise.
"Well done," he said, laughing lowly. "No one saw you."
Will let out held breath, laughing too.
"Thanks," he whispered. "Didn't want to... explain."
Chance squeezed his hand a second, eyes on road.
"You don't have to explain anything. It's us."
Will smiled, leaning back in seat.
And let himself go.
Chance and Will arrived at the Hawk Theater as the sun set, tinting the sky soft orange reflected in morning rain puddles on Main Street. Air smelled of wet asphalt and distant popcorn, flickering red faded letters on marquee: "The Heathers – Today." Will's stomach churned with nerves, but good nerves—like before a group adventure, without supernatural fear.
Chance reached for wallet at ticket booth, fingers in back pocket.
Will stopped him with soft hand on arm, smiling determined.
"No. I pay this time," he said, voice firm but sweet, pulling out saved money from chores and commissioned drawings. "That's why I saved all month."
Chance looked at him a second, brown eyes shining under theater lights, smiled with tenderness making Will's stomach butterflies flutter.
"Okay, Byers," he whispered, pocketing wallet. "You call shots today. I like seeing you like this... decisive."
Will felt cheeks burn, but smiled bigger.
"Good. Two tickets up top, dark corner," he said to ticket lady, older woman giving knowing smile.
Paid, entered lobby: strong burnt popcorn and butter smell, sticky floor from spilled sodas, faded old movie posters on walls.
At concessions, Chance ordered large popcorn.
"Extra butter," he said with mischievous smile to vendor. "Right, Will?"
Will laughed.
"Yeah. And two Cokes. Reese's Pieces for me... M&M's for him."
Chance raised eyebrow.
"How'd you know I like M&M's?"
Will shrugged, playful.
"Saw you eating them at lunch once. I'm observant."
Chance laughed low and warm, leaning to whisper in ear.
"Observant... I like. Keep observing me."
Will felt nape tingle.
Paid everything—saved money worth every cent—and entered theater.
Almost empty: Friday afternoon, new but not blockbuster. Chose top row, darkest corner, screen light barely reaching, shadows covering like protective veil. Seat old, worn velvet, but sat close, armrest up to share popcorn. Butter smell filled air, projector hum in background.
Lights dimmed gradually, theater sinking into gloom.
Chance leaned to Will, voice low against ear, warm breath brushing skin.
"Thanks for inviting me," he whispered. "My first real date... as boyfriends."
Will felt heart flip, skin goosebumping from whisper.
"Mine too," he admitted, voice shaky. "With you."
Chance smiled in dark, teeth flashing white a second, squeezed hand moment.
Movie started with New World Pictures logo, theater filling with upbeat music and Winona Ryder's voice as Veronica.
Will fell for Veronica instantly: smart, sarcastic, trapped in cruel world of cliques and falseness she didn't fully get, writing diary about absurdity.
"That's me," Will whispered in scene where Veronica fakes fitting with Heathers. "Trying to survive high school."
Chance laughed lowly, sound vibrating against shoulder.
"And I'm JD," he murmured, in scene Christian Slater appears as new rebel. "The one coming from outside shaking everything. With a little less dynamite, I hope."
Will smiled.
"A little less," he said. "But you shake everything same."
Chance glanced sideways, screen light painting face blue and red.
In intense scene, Veronica and JD first kiss—passionate, urgent, against wall—Chance took Will's hand in dark.
Will intertwined fingers without thinking, squeezing hard, pulse racing.
Stayed like that awhile: hands linked, shared popcorn, muffled laughs at dark satirical moments.
Chance thumb circled back of Will's hand, slow, each caress sending electricity up arm. Will felt every touch like fire, body leaning to Chance unconsciously.
In darker scene, screen red from blood, tense music rising, Chance leaned more.
"You like it?" he whispered, lips brushing Will's ear, warm breath raising skin.
Will nodded, voice shaky.
"A lot. Veronica's... like me. Strong inside, but pretending outside."
Chance laughed lowly.
"And JD's me. Outsider shaking everything."
Will turned head, faces inches in absolute dark.
"You revolutionized everything," he whispered, lips brushing Chance's speaking.
Chance smiled, eyes gleaming in gloom.
And in theater dark, with movie background—Veronica narrating inner chaos—they kissed.
Slow first, lips brushing soft, exploring. Then deeper: tongues meeting urgent, breaths mingling hot gasps against other's mouth. Chance tilted head, deepening, hand to Will's nape, fingers tangling hair, gripping possessive. Other hand on Will's thigh, squeezing soft over pants, inching up.
Will gasped against mouth, free hand on Chance's chest, feeling heart pounding under shirt. Leaned more, deepening, body fully toward him, armrest forgotten, hand dropping to Chance's waist, brushing skin under shirt.
Kiss urgent: swollen lips, ragged breaths, hands roaming—Chance up Will's arm, Will down Chance's hip, gripping.
Lost in it, world reduced to dark and heat between, movie distant noise.
Until theater door slammed open at bottom.
Hallway light flashed blinding, footsteps echoed stairs, creaking old floor.
Someone late.
Will and Chance separated fast, like burning, kiss cut sharp.
Will straightened in seat, heart pounding two reasons now: kiss and fear. Chance released hand, but left brushing in armrest, hidden under popcorn box.
Older couple climbed stairs slow, searching seats, murmuring about lateness.
Passed close, but didn't look—focused finding spot.
Will felt cheeks burn, breath still fast, lips swollen.
Chance laughed lowly, voice husky.
"Almost," he whispered, warm breath on ear again.
Will laughed too, nervous, pulse still strong.
"Almost caught."
Chance squeezed hand again, hidden.
"Worth the risk," he said, voice low, eyes on screen but smile just for Will.
Will smiled in dark.
And back to movie.
But hands didn't separate more.
Fingers intertwined.
Thighs brushing.
Constant whispers.
When movie ended—with final dark satirical scene—exited lobby lights on, blinking like returning harsh reality.
Will looked at Chance.
"Loved Veronica," he said, smiling. "She's... like me. Trying fit but knowing not. Strong, but faking weakness survive."
Chance laughed.
"And I JD. Outsider blowing everything. But... without final boom, hope."
Will glanced sideways, playful.
"Thought you'd be more like Ram and Kurt. Jock idiot always horny, you know. Throwing balls talking girls."
Chance faked offense, hand to chest dramatic.
"Me? Idiot?" he said, voice loud. "I'm sensitive jock reads poetry, drinks coffee rainy days, falls for weird artists."
Will laughed hard, sound echoing empty lobby, gave soft shoulder push.
Chance looked serious suddenly.
"Thanks for date," he said, voice low. "Perfect. Better any movie."
Will felt cheeks burn.
"You made it perfect."
Out to parking, March night cold wrapping, air smelling imminent rain.
In truck, before starting, Chance leaned kissed again.
Slow, sweet, tasting butter and Coke.
Will reciprocated, hands on Chance's nape.
When separated, breathing close, Chance smiled against mouth.
"Round two soon," he whispered. "Maybe place no interruptions."
Will laughed.
"Whenever."
And drove off, blue truck lost in Hawkins night.
Promise many more dates.
Many more kisses.
Chance dropped Will two houses away, as always, avoid suspicion.
Truck stopped soft, engine off whisper. Chance looked Will second more, eyes shining under streetlamp.
"See you soon," he whispered, leaning quick but sweet kiss.
Will reciprocated, hand on cheek second.
"Soon," repeated, smiling.
Got out, backpack shoulder, watched truck pull away.
Walked remaining two houses heart pounding strong, mouth still tasting butter and Chance. Happy. Floating.
Entered back door, expecting scolding: Joyce worried, Mike mad, questions where been.
But nothing.
House silent. Only kitchen light on.
Will peeked.
Joyce and Karen at table, tea cups, talking low.
When saw him, both looked up smiled—that flirty, suspicious smile making Will cheeks heat.
"How'd it go, honey?" Joyce asked, voice soft but eye gleam.
Karen smiled too.
"Mike said you went out with your friend."
Will felt stomach drop. Never told Mike going out with anyone. Just "going out."
"Uh... good," he stammered. "Went movies. Saw one we wanted."
Joyce and Karen exchanged quick glance, smiling more.
"Good," said unison, tone saying "we know more than you say."
Will felt atmosphere weird, like moms shared secret.
"Going... basement," he said quick, making excuse. "Draw bit."
Ran downstairs, heart pounding something not fear.
Down.
Jonathan there, on couch, looking camera and printed photos low table. Dim lamp lit focused face.
When saw Will, smiled.
"Hey," he said. "How'd it go?"
Will sat mattress, taking jacket off.
"Good," he said, voice low.
Jonathan looked second, nervous, like wanted ask but not how.
Will sighed.
"You can ask whatever," he said. "Know you want."
Jonathan deep breath, setting camera.
"Remember what I said California?" he asked, voice soft. "No matter what, always my little brother. Always love you. Support everything."
Will nodded, heart pounding strong.
"Remember."
Jonathan breathed again.
"You and... Chance? More than friends?"
Will felt fear second—old fear judged, lose. But looked Jonathan: sincere eyes, pure love expression.
"Yes," he said, voice firm though shaky. "Boyfriends. Couple weeks. Started... day fell hole. When arrived hurt dirty."
Jonathan quiet second.
Will waited worst.
But Jonathan smiled.
Big. Happy. Love in eyes.
"Happy for you, Will," he said, voice emotional. "Since knowing that guy... seem more alive. More you. Smile real. That guy's good for you."
Will felt eyes sting.
"Thanks," he whispered.
Jonathan laughed, close ruffle hair.
"But doesn't mean accept him boyfriend yet," he said, faking serious. "Not till meet judge own eyes. Not letting little brother date jerk. No matter how cute."
Will laughed, relieved, happy.
"Deal," he said. "Introduce soon."
Jonathan smiled.
"Better."
Stayed talking awhile, everything nothing.
And Will felt, finally, real ally.
At home.
In family.