Chapter Text
Will
This is not your Will Byers.
This Will Byers has an earring. He’s never played D&D. Never learned how to ride a bike. He doesn't even know the name Vecna. Another name he doesn't know? Mike Wheeler. Swear to god, this boy has never even met the boy. Never cried over him. Never pictured kissing him. Never saved Hawkins with him. Actually, Will hadn't even moved to Hawkins until last month. He hung up a map and threw a dart and moved to wherever it struck.
This Will grew up in New York. Was traumatized, is a better word. You see, he was still taken at a young age but by the government, not Vecna. And no one looked for him. No one saved him. His mom and brother were killed in a terrible car accident before Will turned five. He doesn't remember them. He doesn't even remember Lonnie, who was the one to sell him to the government when Will was twelve. Lonnie was then shot and killed when Will turned out to be exactly what they were looking for. But Will doesn't know this. Doesn't know much about his life before having the number thirteen tattooed on his wrist that still remains long after the facility was attacked. Will was the only one to survive, but he barely remembers how.
This Will didn’t know himself until age seventeen while in foster care. He was still in the missing kids file in Montauk, so he discovered his name and why he had no family but nothing much else. He made friends. Kissed boys. Ran away to the big city the moment he turned eighteen, went to his first gay bar using his secret mind powers to get past bouncers. He loved partying and never wanted to stop.
But he did stop the partying two years ago when he met Carlton. His first boyfriend, you could say. Carlton was shy, new to wanting to kiss boys, and made Will feel special in a way the government wouldn't give a shit about. He was also ten years older than Will, who is now twenty-two.
Then, three months ago, when Will asked to move in with his boyfriend because his lease was up and he was tired of doing long distance, Carlton said no. And when Will called after a rather horrible shift at his new second job to make ends meet, a woman answered. Carlton's wife. The bastard.
So, we find this particular Will in a club for the first time since his fresh break up and his big move to Hawkins, Indiana. And he's not looking for a boyfriend, though he's sure most of the boys here are straight based on how they leer at the girls in line for drinks. He's really not looking for anyone. But does have a condom in his pocket just in case.
Although Carlton was good at kissing, that's all he ever wanted them to do. Which means, though Will would never confess this, he is technically a virgin. But he's hoping to change that. He just doesn't believe it will be tonight at this very straight night club two hours away from Hawkins.
Will fiddles with his earring before stopping himself. He's not going to be nervous. He's going to smile. Be confident. This confidence backfires when he has to politely turn down not one but two girls trying to dance against his groin and one pours her fruity drink on Will when he gently pushed her off him after not listening to his firm rejection.
"Tough luck," a guy says to Will in the bathroom while he's trying to mop his face. "I watched it happen."
"And you did nothing," Will says, shaking his head, putting on a flirty smile because the guy has an earring, too. And just maybe... "Thanks a lot."
The guy must be wondering the same about Will because his eyes linger on his own earring before they move to his lips. "Let me buy you a drink."
"Okay," Will says, and his heart pounds with hope.
Nearly an hour later, Will is grinding on this new friend of his. His name is Chance, and he lives in Hawkins, too, which Will finds serendipitous. Chance also likes basketball. That's about all Will could catch thanks to the thumping music while they were trying to talk over drinks. Will decides he's not really interested in getting to know Chance's detailed story and his bulge rubbing against Will's ass says Chance isn't interested in getting to know Will with words either.
Will pictures it already. Bringing this boy home with him. Doing all the things he wanted to do with Carlton. The condom is practically humming in his pocket.
Will feels someone watching him. He scans the craze of dancing bodies and spots him.
He's wearing glasses and a polo. His hair is combed over and neat. Their eyes are locked while Will dances with Chance and Will wonders if the boy is grossed out by their public display of gayness. Will isn't in New York anymore, so he's sure this is an unusual sight for the stranger.
Chance starts kissing Will's neck and it reminds Will he needs to look away from the curious boy. But he doesn't. And neither does the boy. In fact, his eyes seem to go darker, and it makes Will's stomach do an interesting flip. As the boy's gaze intensifies, Will's heart thumps faster. And soon, he's unable to bear this boy's intense stare so he turns, grabs Chance by the arm and says he needs some air.
Will expects Chance to follow, but he says he needs to use the restroom, which tells Will that he had followed him in the bathroom earlier. Or maybe he drank more than Will and already needs to piss again.
Will steps outside feeling dizzy. The air is different in Indiana than New York and he's not sure which one he prefers. Carlton was a smoker and Will is beginning to wish he was, too, just for something to kill the fuzziness in his brain while he waits for Chance.
He shuts his eyes, leaning against the wall and pictures the boy in glasses' stare and feels more unsettled and a little turned on. He exhales to shake the image and leans off the wall at the same time he opens his eyes. He jumps back.
"Fuck!" Will rubs at his arm that had been scrapped by the rocky wall.
"Sorry," the boy in glasses says. His eyes are less intense and almost soft.
"For what?" Will asks, shoving his hands in his pockets and ignoring how he feels the condom scratch against his palm. "Staring at me or sneaking up on me?"
"You got hurt," he says.
Will huffs a laugh. "So you're not apologizing for the staring."
"No."
"Are you staring because you're interested or because you've never seen two boys dance like that and it's doing something for you?"
The boy smiles. "You're blunter."
"Okay..." Will rolls forward on his feet then back. "Nice talking to you."
"You took me by surprise," he says. "I wasn't expecting to find you... I was looking for a while."
An unease settles in Will and he thinks, very briefly, how this boy might be somehow part of the organization who kept him.
"Is that your boyfriend? The one you were dancing with?"
"No," Will says. "We just met."
"Good. He's a bully and a douche." Mike takes out a cigarette and lights it up. "Are you looking?"
"For?"
"A boyfriend."
"Not really. Are you?"
The boy only smiles. "Not a boyfriend. Just you."
Will sways a bit before huffing a laugh.
"What?" the boy asks, offering Will his cigarette while exhaling a cloud of smoke.
"I'm trying to decide if that line is going to work on me or not."
"My name's Mike."
Will takes the cigarette and puts it on his lips but doesn't inhale. "Will. Are you going to take me home, Mike?"
"I don't live here."
"Neither do I. Wherever will we go?"