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In California, Will wrote twenty letters to Mike Wheeler. He didn't have the courage to send any of that.
During the first week, it was only expectation and hope that Mike would take the initiative to write for him. Maybe it was even pride, something fragile and stubborn, that decided that Mike should be the first to send a letter, not Will. The summer had been tense between the two, even after the reconciliation, and Mike should have understood that the culprit in all these conflicts was, in large part, him. Will was expecting a detailed letter from a best friend, someone with whom he had an inexplicable connection since childhood, who missed him after a move to the other side of the country.
Was it too much? That kind of reciprocity that Will craved so much?
Will came to the conclusion that yes, it was, because a month had passed and he had not received anything. Jane's orders came in droves, weekly and without a single break, but Will's drawers remained empty, with no stamps and envelopes to store.
He's going to send at least something, Will remembered thinking. Jane was his girlfriend and he was his friend. A new school year had just begun and things were difficult. Mike and Jane's relationship had also been troubled that summer – amid many breakups – so Mike should have been securing the most important relationship first. Will felt bitter about it, terribly sad, but it was natural, wasn't it? In the boys' world, the rule seemed clear: girls first, friends second. Will, as a best friend, had already been neglected many times due to the bunch of relationships around him, so it's not like he wasn't used to it.
That doesn't mean it hadn't hurt less when six months had passed and nothing had arrived.
One year. Nothing. Not a miserable word.
Through the tears of sadness and loneliness, pride beat like a drum in his chest, firm and unyielding. Will wouldn't be the first to send something, the first to give in. He wouldn't reach out to Mike once again only to be met with cold, thoughtless indifference because of his high expectations. He wouldn't talk to Mike unless Mike talked to him first.
Which didn't happen, unfortunately, until he went to California to see Jane.
But even that, Will ended up writing letters to Mike. Many of that and all not sent.
They had been, in many ways, therapeutic and stressful to write. Will was in a shaken mood in all of them, never happy, so he always ended up pouring more than he allowed himself to feel in the vowels and consonants of his feelings. Each of those letters was somewhat responsible for the terrible, inevitable, and expected conclusion that Will would arrive a month before Mike Wheeler boarded a plane to California.
He was gay and was in love with his very, very straight best friend, who was also the boyfriend of Will's sister.
Will had a horrible life indeed.
It was in the last letter, the twentieth, that Will freed himself from the heaviest repressions and admitted for the first time that he was in love with a man. Above all, he was in love with Mike.
The letter was not large, but rather concise and direct. Will said that he felt like he had been in love with him since childhood, that he was jealous of Jane, and that he was constantly crossing the line between appropriate and inappropriate for what a friend should feel and do. He said that he was tired and that he felt like telling him, but that he lacked courage. Finally, he said that he had a terrible fear that these feelings – which were already so ingrained and natural to Will – would never go away, and that he would be condemned to a life of constant suffering longing for something he couldn't have.
(Nearly three years later, with feelings for Mike nonexistent in his chest, Will could admit that it had been a bit dramatic.)
He ended up burning all the letters in a vacant lot a week before Mike arrived. The latter, however, made him hesitate. It was terribly personal and the worst of all, the most revealing, but also the one that allowed Will to admit and accept an essential part of himself. A part that would never change, regardless of whether his feelings for Mike disappeared or not. She was important, so he put out the fire and hid her in a trunk full of trinkets he knew no one in his house would dare to touch, along with a very personal painting that Will had given up on handing over at the last moment.
The fear of someone discovering her crossed his mind, but it didn't stay for long. No one in the Byers family was known to be nosy, so Will was sure that none of them – especially Jane, who had always respected trust – would open a letter addressed to someone else. Perhaps life-threatening, but it was just a letter to Will's supposed best friend. What the hell would it help to open it or not?
Now, standing behind the gym in an empty hallway as he watched Mike Wheeler walking in hurried steps toward him with a nervous, trembling expression on his face, Will Byers cursed his very existence as he felt an avalanche of pure, terrifying regret flooding his veins.
Because right there, crumpled in Mike's pale hands, was Will's letter.
The letter that had disappeared during the move back to Hawkins, which was so distinct from the others — not a plain white paper on the back, but a cheesy, ridiculous burning heart that Will had decided to draw — that it could be recognized from more than twenty yards away.
In Mike's hands.
Will's love letter. In the hands of Mike Wheeler. His sister's boyfriend. The boy that Will had finally outgrown.
That was going towards him in search of explanations.
God. Not only him, but with a platoon of people behind. With Dustin, Lucas, and Max with him, all looking perplexed and worried.
God.
Oh my God, Will thought, distressed, God, tell me he didn't open the letter in front of other people. Give me that assurance and I'll go back to church and convert.
Not for the first time, God didn't answer Will's desperate prayers, so he was left alone to face his adversities once again. He could imagine the scene clearly: Mrs. Wheeler hands the letter to Mike before his son leaves for class, with Steve already at the door to pick up each of them at home. Max, Lucas and Dustin would already be in the car. Max would be in the front, of course, and Dustin would be in the middle, as he liked to lean forward to discuss the radio music. Mike would enter from the right, sit next to Dustin, and open the seal – he couldn't contain his curiosity. Lucas would look away in a respectful manner, but Dustin would stick his hands in her as if he belonged to him. As was known to all, Dustin Handerson had an annoying habit of reading almost everything aloud until someone told him to shut up.
But no one would tell him to shut up at that moment. He would continue to read, in a mechanical way, Will Byers' confession of love while Mike followed the words with his eyes. The car would spiral into silence and Steve would burn a signal of shock.
God. They think Will just confessed his love to his own sister's boyfriend.
Maybe Will throws himself into a hole in the woods and hopes to fall straight into the mouth of a demogorgon in the Upside Down.
The most frustrating thing is that he wasn't even in love with Mike anymore. There were no more racing hearts, flushed cheeks, or butterflies in the stomach, just a friendly affection that would never be extinguished. What had once been a warm, permanently lit fireplace had become a faint and fragile spark that was extinguished without warning. Nobody knew. Even after coming out for all of them, no one had ever found out. He would never have to tell anyone, he would never have to tell Mike and have a terrible, awkward conversation to be rejected, even after he had already gotten over it. Why did this stupid letter have to arrive right now?!
Will panicked.
And it was at that same moment that someone decided to break into Will's secret corner, the place where no one appeared but their selected group, and bumped hard into his back, throwing him aside unexpectedly. However, before he could fall, a pair of large, strong hands grabbed him by the waist and pulled him back up in an easy, light motion, causing Will to bump into his savior's chest like a helpless princess being saved by a knight in shining armor.
Will heard a sigh coming from the man in front of him. His hands tightened on his waist lightly, looking like they were held by irons, with no intention of letting go of him. Will was so distressed by everything that was happening that he didn't even pay attention to the strangeness of it all.
"Did you get hurt?" A hoarse voice with a very familiar accent asked next to his ear, in a tone that could only be described as soft and gentle. They were close in an embarrassing, almost indecent way, which made Will able to smell the striking aroma of an expensive masculine perfume with woody touches that had been sprayed on the crook of his neck.
But Will couldn't pay attention to any of this, because over his savior's shoulder – according to the white and green jacket on his shoulders, it was an athlete who was holding Will's waist at that very moment – he could see Mike stop walking towards him, his face taking on an incredulous and somewhat angry expression at the scene he was witnessing: Will Byers, Hawkins' social freak – second only to Eddie Munson – in the arms of a guy on the basketball team.
A very crazy idea formed in Will's mind in less than a second.
"Byers? Can you hear me?" The voice asked again, looking more worried, and Will could feel his savior moving away a little so he could take a look at his face.
God, forgive me for my sins, Will said his last prayer.
And then he looked away from his bewildered friends and finally stared at the man who had saved him.
Bright, beautiful, dark eyes stared back at him, furrowed with confusion.
"Please don't kill me." Will muttered to the athlete, very recognizable to the Zombie Boy's desperate mind. "I'm going to kiss you now."
He widened his eyes in disbelief.
But before he could say anything, Will Byers brought his hand to the back of his neck and pulled him down, crossing the inches high that separated him to join his mouth with Chance Lawson's lips in an urgent and unpassionate kiss.
Will Byers has never had anything against athletes.
There was no official basketball team in elementary school, but Will was always the slight and easy type for bullies, so he was not spared from jokes. It's true that many of his former bullies ended up becoming athletes - and that athletes dominated the area of intimidation, being the main bullies - but the term athlete never sent a shiver down his spine of fear, anger, or contempt, even when there was reason to. He didn't have the same opinion as Mike, for example, or even Eddie, who was already a more extreme case. Before going to California, the only scary example of an athlete Will witnessed was Billy Hargrove, who looked more like a demon disguised in a strong, attractive body. And he didn't even have anything against Will especially, only the creature inside him did.
The truth is that Will didn't make much distinction between the people who made fun of him, since everyone used to make fun of him. You didn't have to be an athlete for that.
He understood this definition better when he left Hawkins. Athletes in California had much more power, were wealthier and more in demand, since they had no shortage of opportunities within a big city, so they used to run the school with much more tranquility. In comparison, the athletes there were much more tolerant. Lenora Hills was a big city and there were many different people; They grew up surrounded by difference, so there wasn't much to say when you were used to all that. The bully used to be for much more personal reasons – while Hawkins's was very much based on social reasons.
Will, of course, was the exception of Hawkins. The Zombie Boy received special treatment in student bullying.
But Will was invisible in California. He saw the intimidation up close, but never felt what it was like to be thrown against a closet by a goalkeeper or a sweaty point guard after training. He was angry at all of this, at the injustice, in the same way as his group of friends. But what differentiated him from Mike, for example, was understanding that not everyone was like that. Like Lucas. And that not everyone would be like this forever. Like Steve.
Then he returned to Hawkins and came across hierarchies and royalty when he was used to random popular athletes from varied social groups. Hawkins was like a kingdom: it had a King and Queen. And it had always been like this, since before the famous King Steve, and it would be for a long time before this ridiculous system was dismantled.
The Party had been complaining about bullying from athletes for a long time, as soon as they entered high school, so Will went to school scared in his sophomore year scared. It was Zombie Boy's first time in Hawkins after a year and he wasn't anxious about being pushed down the toilet for any reason.
But nothing came.
He walked through the halls and felt a few looks of recognition, awe, or mockery, but that was it. The athletes stared at him for a second longer, sometimes grumbled, but always walked away, dodging Will as if he were a pest.
And he wouldn't complain about it, despite being strange.
With the Upside Down permanently shut down since the parasite's destruction at the Starcourt Mall, the group's life had become infuriatingly monotonous. Will was happier than ever, of course, without having to worry about shivering shivers on the back of his neck or interdimensional monsters lurking in his mind, but such monotony only made him end up paying attention to Hawkins' social hierarchy more than ever. He knew there had been some kings, such as Steve, Billy Hargrove and Jason Carver, but they were all already formed. There were rumors that Andy Martins, vice-captain of the basketball team, would take over as King at any moment, but the challenge of the barrel had not yet been won, so it was nothing concrete. Next to him, Patrick McKinney, the captain, as a pivot of popularity and gentle smile who conquered girls wherever he went, was also a strong candidate, but he was not known for drinking and was not interested in the challenge.
To complete the trio, there was also Chance. The Prince.
Will wouldn't say he was friends with Chance Lawson, even though they had talked several times, for hours – always started by Chance, who for some reason had a knack for picking up Will alone – in the hallway while Will waited for Lucas after the end of basketball practice. But he knew him.
He knew that Chance used to be Jason's minion in his first year of high school, that he accompanied him on his, and that he was very good at fighting. But he also knew that he had changed a lot. Lucas attested to this constantly when Mike's taunts to the athletes went a little further. He said that the process was slow, but that it was real. There were rotten fruits among them, of course, those that were too corrupt to be changed, but they weren't all. Steve had changed and so had many of the team. Chance included among them.
Will didn't know much about the things they had done, only grumbling from Mike and Dustin; everything had already come to a standstill when he settled once again in Hawkins.
Which was a relief for all of them. Jason Carver's departure from high school and Patrick's entry as captain greatly calmed the spirits of the athletes, who became much more receptive to different students and the rest of the clubs. The hierarchy still existed, of course, but it had much smoother edges and was easier to circumvent. The fact that Chance Lawson struck up a conversation with Will whenever they were alone was proof of that.
What world would a guy like Chance talk to Will in? Only in a changed world.
And not just talking, but asking thoughtful things about his art classes or making jokes so that Will would smile a little after a tiring day. Conversations that sometimes exceeded the concept of time, with a special kindness that made Chance somehow stay marked in a secret place in Will's heart.
Although it wasn't like Chance was someone who was hard to forget or not pay attention to: his glowing, super-tanned skin, toned muscles, and perfect face were impressive – and Will never looked at him much, as he had the simple impression that at some point he wouldn't be able to look away. It was almost a trial by fire when he saw him coming towards him – and a relief and melancholy when he left, giving space for Will to calm the racing heart in his chest, even under the embarrassment of Lucas' attentive and malicious gaze.
Still, Will felt like he didn't know much about Chance. What he did know was that he was a foreigner, born in the Philippines and that he lived in Brazil for a while and only then moved to the United States. He was the son of a family with five siblings, in which he was the middle, with divorced parents and a Brazilian stepfather. He was also a year older, even though they were in the same classes and class. He was very wealthy, had an impeccable record of marked baskets, and was supposedly the most charming man to ever set foot in Hawkins. In addition to being one of the most beautiful. Chance had a loud voice when he was with the team, but spoke very softly when they were alone. He was nice to Will, fun, caring, and understanding. He told funny stories that always made Will laugh, even if he tried to pretend he didn't. He played guitar, as well as an instrument called tambourine, which Will did not know. He loved romantic movies, music, and books, but he was embarrassed to admit it to some people. He also didn't date, despite having an impressive line of people who wants him.
But the thing that stood out most about Chance, for someone like Will, was the fervent rumors that he used to take men into the backseat of his Impala after parties with the team. A topic they had never addressed. It wasn't like they were friends, if they only talked to each other in empty hallways and when the opportunity was convenient.
Even so, it had been very convenient for Will's insane plan that one of the only athletes who was nice to him and who wouldn't vomit in disgust when kissed by another man was the very one who ended up saving him.
And that made no difference in the absurdity that Will had just done. Kissing someone without permission. My God, his mother was going to kill him.
It took a single swipe of his lips for Will to instantly regret it. As if the lack of consent wasn't enough, he had just given his first kiss to an athlete, to Chance, in front of his best friends just so he wouldn't have to talk to Mike.
He didn't know if he was the most cowardly or the bravest boy in the world.
And Will couldn't discern if it was some courage or cowardice that kept him from running out and fleeing the city, abandoning the darkest day of his life forever. Maybe it was just his wobbly legs, which hadn't stopped shaking for a single second since he saw that damn letter in Mike's hand. Or maybe it was Chance's steady hands holding him in place, squeezing Will's waist so tightly that it made him let out a pained sigh against soft lips.
Will froze, feeling his fingers twitching under his skin in response to the sound.
And that's when everything changed. Like a key being turned in the mind of the Prince of Hawkins.
For Chance, who had spent the last five seconds paralyzed with shock, came back to life with commendable momentum. Grasping Will's waist even tighter, Chance pressed him against him without any further hesitation. His lips slammed into Will's in an almost desperate motion, taking him in a fierce and hungry kiss, destroying any barrier Will had with just the touch of his tongue.
And Will stood still, motionless, for just a second before the seething of intense emotions took over his skin and snapped. Before Will adjusted the hold of his hand on the back of Chance's neck and pulled him towards him, letting himself be completely carried away in what would be the first time in his entire life. All due to the complete and frightening impulse.
Will had kissed Chance. And Chance was kissing back.
And it was scary, how much it made him feel. How his skin vibrated with Chance's touch, ignoring the obvious inexperience just to throw himself into that absurd situation. It wasn't just intense. It was nauseating. Suffocating.
It was fucking amazing.
Will had never been so easily dominated in his entire life – let alone with such enthusiasm. He lost himself in the sensations of soft kisses being pressed against his lips, strong hands running down his hips, and his back slamming against the concrete wall of the Hawkins High gymnasium. And what a sight it should be: The boy who came back to life cornered in a wall with an athlete on him, holding him with his hands so he had no way to escape. As a nerd, Will should feel fear or any trace of tension, but his survival instinct had apparently shut down as soon as Chance's hands touched his waist. Now he could only sigh with contentment and struggle to stay on his feet.
And the kisses were so desperate that it seemed almost like a game of pulling and pushing. Will, having become strangely quick accustomed to the act of kissing, was already moving unconsciously and instinctively: he pressed himself against Chance, pulled and squeezed him harder, whether the muscles were carved by Chance's body or his sports jacket, bringing him so close that they could almost become one.
Chance, however, kept moving away, but only so that kisses could be left all over the skin around his lips, on the lower and high part of his cheeks and on his jaw, going down to his neck in a tease. The firm line of his torso and hip were cruelly pressed against Will's, so that there didn't seem to be a single strip of skin between them that wasn't connected. Will couldn't help but shiver as he was wrapped in his arms, holding on to Chance because he knew the only thing that anchored him to his feet at that moment was that body pressed against him, strong and hot as a furnace. Not when Chance couldn't stop. He was always doing something: One moment, a bite on the lips that took Will to the clouds. Another pull on his waist. Another kiss on his mouth and a chaste little kiss before moving against him, rubbing their hips against each other until Will lost control of whatever kind of sound he was making.
And yet, Chance kissed him with surprising delicacy, even in the midst of the ferocity of the act. His mouth wouldn't stand still for a single second, pulling, licking, and biting his lips and Will's skin as if he were savoring him. His hands were in no different situation, alternating between his waist, the lower back of his back, and subsequently to caress the band of sensitive skin at the base of his neck.
Surprised, Will sighed with each touch, letting out sounds that sounded more like moans than anything else.
Chance, in response, took a deep breath against his mouth, as panting and trembling as Will felt. But in what was helplessness and weakness in Will's desire - shaped into sighs and the surprise of a first kiss - there was strength and certainty in Chance's every move, even as his fingers slid across his skin like a candle, burning all the way through, there was a perceptible tremor from his fingertips to the palm of his hand.
But Will couldn't think of a plausible reason, nor of any kind of meaning. He was totally detached from the real world, lost in sensation as he felt Chance grabbing his jaw gently, lifting his chin up so that the kiss became even deeper. More and more in need. To the point where they remained there, in a dark and hidden corner, rubbing against each other with a lust and excitement that was highly inappropriate for that time of day. And certainly inappropriate for the school environment.
Damn, Will thought, in a clouded despair of shame and shyness. If it continues like this, I will-
Suddenly, the bell that started classes rang.
And Will froze. As if a high-voltage cable had attached itself to his hand and paralyzed his joints and muscles, making him almost unable to move.
It was like being pulled by a stupor - Will was no longer trapped in whatever spell Chance threw at him, but was suddenly aware of his surroundings. Still, Chance's mouth left Will's in a slow, lazy pop, so long that Will could barely contain himself so as not to get carried away. In no hurry to pull away, Chance chased his lips one last time, ignoring the sudden, slight tension brewing between them, only to turn the moment into a loving farewell of snapping kisses.
Will took a deep breath as the last kiss touched his skin, high above his mouth, vaguely aware that it was the place where a mole was, the one his mother always said was an extra charm in his appearance.
Still with his arms resting on Chance's strong shoulders and with his fingers lost in his hair, Will completely lost the courage to face him. He remained with his eyes closed like a coward - a coward who was very shocked, incredulous, and would scream a little when he was alone - inert at the moment, his face burning a color he knew to be crimson red, listening as his heart tried to leap out of his chest at a pace he had never beaten before. Not even when he was possessed by the Mind Flayer.
And only then did the penny start to drop.
Will had given his first kiss. First kisses. With Chance.
And, my god, how good it had been.
Seeming oblivious to Will's mental crisis, Chance let out a long sigh, close enough for Will to feel in his own mouth. His breath so hot against his skin that a shiver went up his spine.
Instinctively, Will opened his eyes. And they automatically found Chance's.
They stared at each other.
Chance looked at him with bright eyes, his expression soft. His lips curled into the most sincere and strangely dumb smile Will had ever seen on his face. He looked lost, kind of distracted, like a silly puppy just staring at you because there isn't a single thought going through his head.
Oh my god, Will pursed his lips in panic, looking at that idiot jock who still holds his waist and stares at him - more like a golden retrivier who just found out there's a little ball right in front of him, unable to hide his tail wag and his ears up, than a functional human who runs the school with his fingertips.
Nothing. Nothing made sense. Will kissed him, chaste and quick, and then Chance- Chance simply-
And he's still feeling Chance's saliva in his mouth - like it's normal. As if this were just another Tuesday in the last year, not one in which Will was stuck between a wall and Chance Lawson, one of the most popular and desired boys in school. As if he wasn't a gay boy sneaking into the back of the gym to make out with an athlete, so powerful that they left him destroyed, unable to form a single coherent thought other than remembering the soft taste of the lips in front of him.
And Will feels like running, because Chance is so beautiful, and it's not helping him to focus on the really important things here. He was right. It's very hard to look away.
And the gentle curve of his nose and his giant eyelashes distract him so much that he almost doesn't notice when Chance decides to break the silence.
"Wow." He says, the hoarse, deep voice that sends him into a new wave of goosebumps that Will is definitely ignoring. "I didn't imagine there was this kind of thing in you, Byers. Not that I'm complaining."
And Will-
Will hates him.
His already red face looks like it's going to explode or just start to melt and detach from his bones. An awkward rage rises through his veins and he rolls his eyes so hard that he gets dizzy for a moment. He tries to pull his arms from Chance's shoulders in protest, but gives up when he realizes that the athlete is so close to him that there is no room for him to move.
"Oh my God, shut up." He grumbles, trying to avoid him gaze. Maybe God is merciful now and allows the wall to swallow you up and hide you between the bricks.
But Chance ignores Will's words with a light, amused laugh, preferring to seek Will's eyes with his.
"That was a compliment! Oh, Byers, look at me, please?" Chance said, leaning even closer to him. Will snorted. "Have you decided to be shy now?"
This caused Will to look at him.
"I'm not shy!" Will protested, feeling very shy. He rolls his eyes once more. "That basketball hit you so many times that you started hallucinating."
Chance just raised his eyebrows, smiling. "You know I'm not creative enough to hallucinate a beauty like you."
Will stares at him.
"Oh, you're laughing!" Chance exclaimed, cheerful, squeezing his waist as a reflex. "Don't pretend you don't think I'm charming, Byers. I'm trying my best here."
Will gives up trying to hold back his laughter. "I don't think you're charming-" He did. "And I don't know you that well. Do I know about your apparent lack of creativity? We don't talk that often."
Chance opens his mouth in false indignation. "And wasn't it enough?" He retorts. "Don't tell me you were ignoring me every time I talked to you. It's going to break my heart in a way I'll never get over it."
"Not at all." A half-truth. When he wasn't distracted by Chance, Will paid attention. And they both knew it. "Only in the majority."
Chance pouts. Like a baby.
"A blow more painful than any basketball. Maybe I'll start hallucinating for real now. Because of your fault." He sighs, but it's so fake that Will can't hold back another laugh. "You're going to have to make it up to me. It's fair."
Will arches his eyebrows.
"Will I make it up to you?"
"Yes." Chance replied, leaning in until their foreheads touched. "You need to get to know me better. I know a lot of things about you, but you say you don't know about my apparent creative inability to form a face as beautiful as yours. So we need to balance the game. I feel like we've learned very intimate things from each other now, but you're still at a disadvantage."
Will feels his face redden.
"Why do you have to say that like that?" Will squeals like a pathetic squirrel, too embarrassed to give a proper answer. He's getting too soft.
"Isn't that the truth?" Chance answers, easy. Will should have imagined that he would be so shameless.
He refuses to answer, but rolls his eyes on principle.
Chance lets out a happy sigh, ignoring it. He leans a little more against Will's body, his hands sliding from a firm grip on his waist to wrap his body in an even more intimate embrace that burns the skin beneath the fabric of his T-shirt. Will's arms are still resting on Chance's shoulders in his own version of a hug, without even thinking about letting go of them. Will almost blurts out his version of the happy sigh when he realizes that they are basically snuggled up to each other, in a forgotten part of the school and that, even after the bell rings, they still haven't made any moves to go to the classrooms. They're basically skipping class.
Will had never skipped class before.
And he kind of doesn't care one bit. In fact, he kind of likes it.
Maybe it would be a little boring or pointless if he was alone, but with Chance here, it becomes a lot of fun. He was a bit of a jerk, of course, but Will found him annoyingly charming because of it. His heart almost burst in his chest when he saw him leave training, always a little earlier. Chance sat next to him every time Will needed to wait for Lucas to take him home. At least two hours of conversation, a few times a month, and Will and Chance forgot the rest of the world to talk trash to each other.
And they weren't friends, but it was special. And Will loved those moments.
But now, snuggled in Chance's arms, he felt sunk into a sense of contentment so powerful it made him close his eyes. As if that was right, more than the unsettling feeling of admitting that he and Chance were friends in some way. Because they weren't. Will didn't want them to be friends. He wanted...
Oh.
Oh.
Will can't believe it. Oh my God.
He feels his face turn a little redder. By now, it must be looking like a fresh tomato.
How did he not see this before? Oh my god. How had he missed the signs? The heart always racing in his presence, the nervousness when talking or even looking in Chance's direction, the maddening desire for Lucas to get a little too tangled up with the cleaning of the courts, because that was the only time he could be alone with Chance and he wanted it so badly. Everything was so obvious.
Will has a crush on Chance. A very big crush, with a real development of feelings that has been progressing for months, in such a discreet and natural way that he hadn't even noticed it until it was suddenly thrown in his face. Such a familiar feeling, but one that Will hasn't felt in years, because since he was twelve years old he no longer knows what it's like to be falling in love with someone.
Will just kissed a guy he likes.
He's cuddling with the guy he likes, skipping class and hiding embarrassed smiles like a twelve-year-old instead of the seventeen-year-old he's become.
Wow.
"I still can't believe you just came up to me and kissed me." Chance says suddenly, catching Will's attention. He has such a satisfied smile on his face that Will's heart pirouettes just to see him. "Did you finally notice that I was flirting with you like a desperate person or did Sinclair betray my trust and tell you?"
Will just stares at him. The words finally assimilating into his head.
Why had he even kissed Chance?
And the answer to that comes to him as a tsunami of information, all thrown at Will's head at once. California, the letter, Mike.
Will's heart stops.
Jesus.
Oblivious to Will's crisis, Chance continues. "I was being very pathetic, but I didn't have the courage to approach you and open the game. If it was because of Sinclair, I'll have to send a basket of fruit to his house."
But Will doesn't answer. He just gets more and more flabbergasted, incredulous at what he had just done. He just kissed a guy in front of his friends, in front of Mike, and started making out with him like he was a pervert full of hormones. What was supposed to be a simple kiss as a pretext to push Mike away and convince him that he no longer had any feelings for him, had become a long make-out session – so long that Will, who had arrived before everyone else and separated from Jane to be alone for a while, ended up missing the first class – only to discover that the emptiness in his chest left by the disappearance of his feelings for Mike had become a part of the been filled by someone else.
Oh my god. Chance had made him moan. Not once, but countless. Chance threw him against a wall and Will gave himself to him like not even a submissive pervert would. That was the kind of thing they would see Eddie doing. Eddie was the one who liked to be thrown into walls by retired athletes and traumatize everyone in the group. Not Will.
And yet. And yet.
Feeling a little insane, he looked over Chance's shoulder to check. There was no one, of course. They never stuck around when they found Eddie and Steve doing that kind of thing, why would they stay when Will did the same?
Oh my god. He couldn't believe it.
Will let out an incredulous laugh, choked in his chest.
And he continued to giggle, unable to stop due to the absurdity of the situation. Chance stared at him with a confused face, but equally amused. "I'm guessing it wasn't Sinclair."
"It wasn't him." Will said between laughs. "Did you say you were flirting with me? Like a desperate?"
Will's words seemed to take Chance by surprise, because he ended up blushing. A soft shade of red tinged his brown skin, his eyes shining with shyness, and it was so handsome that Will was breathless for a moment.
"Yes, something like that." Chance cleared his throat. "I kind of... like you. It's been a while."
Hearing these words, Will felt like he was melting in his arms. He couldn't contain the huge smile on his face, even if full of shyness, looking under his eyelashes at Chance's beautiful eyes. His heart raced like crazy as he felt Chance's beating against his chest, even faster than his.
Will wasn't expecting it, but he couldn't believe how happy he was.
He didn't even know that liking someone could be so light. That the conversations could be so full of shyness, in such a cliché way, warming him up inside in unimaginable ways, as if he were overflowing with happiness.
And it was so different. His feelings for Mike were intense but destructive. Will couldn't be at peace with himself and what he had for his best friend -his sister's boyfriend - and he felt on a tightrope between his desire for him and the fear of ruining an already irreparably broken friendship. There was always a lot to lose, even if it somehow worked out. And Will never expected to be reciprocated, but the mere possibility was shown to be something scary. A feeling that could be beautiful in any reality, but that was inserted into a destiny in which it could never prosper without a lot of pain being at stake.
But this was not the same thing.
"How long ago?" Will asked, looking with fascination at Chance's face turning even redder.
"Elementary school." He replied, hesitantly, unable to face him. "Thirteen, I think."
Will widened his eyes, surprised, "Thirteen? We had never even talked at that time."
Chance shrugged, as if it was nothing. "I never had the courage. I was very afraid, I had just come to the United States and my English was terrible. And I... I couldn't accept that I was gay. But I always watched you in class." He confesses. "I tried to talk to you several times, but I always chickend out. Until you went to California. I thought I had missed my chance. I became popular, I became an asshole. When you came back, I was so embarrassed to face you. And I wanted your attention so badly, Will, you have no idea how much. And then you didn't even know me, but you already knew you didn't like me very much. I didn't like myself. Your kindness has always been what I liked most about you, but I still ended up becoming that."
Will stares at him, breathless. He doesn't even know what to say. How had he never noticed? "Chance..."
"Let me continue. I'll end up chickend out if you interrupt me." Chance said. And then he takes a deep breath. "I'm a coward, Will. That's why I did all that. I was afraid of not fitting in, afraid of being done to me what I did to them, because I was different and they knew it. And I was a horrible person. So I forbade myself to look at you, even think about you. I didn't deserve you back then and I still don't. And I know I'll never deserve you. Not you, your heart or even a kiss from you."
Chance purses his lips, his eyes a little more watery than they were before. But he doesn't cry. The silence extends for a minute before he composes himself. And Will doesn't say anything, just stares at him. He can't say anything, not with his heart racing as it is.
"But I wanted you so badly. That year in California didn't diminish my feelings for you at all. And they were the ones who gave me the strength to change. To be better than I am. For you. For myself, because I didn't want to be someone bad, but I chose to be better, to be kinder, because of you. Because you were a good person and I wanted there to at least be a chance for you to look at me with something other than fear in your eyes." Chance stammered the last words, lowering his eyes and averting Will's intense gaze. "Lucas noticed. I couldn't control myself and kept looking for you in the hallways, in training sessions and in the stands during games. He helped me get better and advised me. But I knew I still didn't deserve you. But when I saw you alone in that hallway, waiting for Lucas while he helped the coach... I broke my own rule. I wanted to know what it was like to talk to you, to know what it would be like to make you laugh."
And then it all made so much sense.
Will remembered very well the first time Chance had spoken to him. From the strangeness of the situation. Of how he was concentrating on a draft in his notebook, sitting near the exit of the courts that the basketball team used to practice after school. He remembered the door being opened and the sound of footsteps that suddenly stopped a few feet from him.
Of how he looked up and saw Chance Lawson staring at him, paralyzed, as if he was terrified.
And he had never given it importance or even understood it. He paid no attention to how long it took Chance to move towards him, to the rigid movements that made him brake slightly with each step, or how his first 'Hey' had been breathless and hesitant. How he looked like he wanted to run away while Will came out of his shock that an athlete was starting a conversation with him.
Nor how Chance had been flabbergasted when he made him laugh for the first time, staring at him shamelessly. Hopeful. Almost incandescent with happiness.
And Will-
He feels his eyes fill with tears.
Chance doesn't notice. He is still staring at the ground, ashamed, unable to face it as he confesses his sins to him. While confessing a love so deep and powerful that Will didn't even imagine anyone could feel for him.
"And I'm in love with you." Chance finally says. "I liked you from the first time I saw you. But I... I fell in love with you from the first time the two of us talked. When I saw who you really were." He hesitates before speaking the next words. "I know we've only talked for four months and we're not even that close, that I may seem like a weird and emotional guy, but I wanted to tell you. I also know that a kiss can be just that. Just... just a kiss. But I couldn't kiss you anymore without you knowing how much it would mean to me. I'd be fooling you. And I understand if you don't want to anym-"
Will interrupts him, kissing him once more before he can say anything else.
And Chance freezes once more, his hands stiff on Will's back. And he doesn't even have time to respond, because Will moves away as fast as he had approached. He moves around enough to place his hands on Chance's cheeks, holding it and caressing the top of them with his fingers. Will can't help but laugh at the surprise on Chance's face.
"I'm in love with you, Chance. Really." He says. Chance widens his eyes. "And I had no idea about it for a long time. It was so, so easy to like you, so natural to me. I was in love with someone else for a long time and some part of me thought it would be forever, that I would never get over it, but I couldn't even keep up when you replaced him in my heart. And what you said to me... I don't even know what to tell you. You changed. You don't have to deserve me. And even if you needed to, you already deserve me." He gave a wet laugh, wiping away a single tear that ended up running down his face. "I don't know what else to say. It's a lot."
"You don't have to say anything. Seriously. I would never force you to like me or accept anything." Chance hurried to say, but a giant smile was taking over his face. He looked at Will with such adoration that he wanted to hide from his gaze, unaccustomed to the sensation. "You kissed me. You like me."
Will laughed. "Yes, I like you." He joked. His smile lost a bit of brightness before he spoke again. "About the kiss... I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier. I took advantage of you."
Chance stares at him. "You don't have to apologize for that. Will, I've wanted to kiss you for years. I've been dreaming of kisses from you since I was thirteen. Santa must be tired of seeing me ask for the same thing every Christmas. You gave him a break."
Will rolls his eyes at this silly man, but he can't stop smiling. "It was wrong anyway. But I wasn't talking about it when I said I took advantage of you." Chance raises his eyebrows, curious.
And Will tells him the story.
And in the end, Chance just keeps staring at him with an impassive face. Will writhes in his arms, nervous about the guilt he felt.
But Chance just says:
"I can't believe I'm going to have to send a basket of fruit to Mike Wheeler." He grimaced. "One for Dustin Handerson and one for California's mystery cupid, that's fine. But for Michael? He's such an idiot."
Will rolls his eyes, amused. "He's not an idiot."
"He can be even dumber than me, love." Chance says, seriously. "And I'm pretty stupid."
But Will is kind of not paying much attention to defending his best friend, not this time.
"Love?" He repeats, breathless at the butterflies that form in his lungs.
Chance smiles, moving closer to give Will a little kiss on the nose. "You're my love, aren't you?"
And Will melts against him again, not even trying to hide the bright, red blush on his cheeks. Not even his happiness. Oh my god. Will Byers apparently has a boyfriend.
"Are we going to get out of here?" Chance says suddenly, looking at him with a mischievous smile. "We already missed the first class. I parked nearby. I want to take you somewhere. For you to compensate me."
Will raises his eyebrows, amused.
"You're going to get us in trouble." Will protests, but there's no strength in it other than a funny excitement of doing the wrong thing. He would follow Chance anywhere now.
"Only if they catch us." Chance responds, giving Will a single peck before suddenly walking away, putting at least a meter of distance between them.
Will almost falls flat on his face, having become accustomed to more than half of his body supported by Chance's arms. He is about to fight with him when he sees that Chance is no longer in front of him.
But running away from him at full speed.
"Come on, Byers!" Chance screams, walking away at a frightening speed for someone who is running backwards. "You'll be left behind if you don't come soon!"
Will stared at him, gaping, before picking up his forgotten things on the floor and running after him with a giant smile on his face. The indignation forgotten before that idiot.
Will is so in love. My God, he's really getting soft.
"You're not being discreet at all!" He yells at Chance, but there's no one in the courtyard right now, and it's as if the only two people in the world are them.
But Chance really isn't discreet, and the illusion is shattered when they see Inspector McCall opening one of the doors of coordination and running after him almost immediately.
"You delinquents!" The Inspector screams, tripping over a bicycle left anyway on the parking meter. He falls the grass, but he's still screaming. "Come back here now!"
Will and Chance stare at each other, shocked, before they burst into laughter together. When Will finally catches up with him, still laughing, Chance takes him by the hand and intertwines his fingers, leaving the school and the Inspector's screams behind to have the rest of the day to themselves.
Later, Will will have to worry about how to explain the situation to Mike and his other friends. He will have to have a conversation with Jane that he definitely doesn't want to have. And he will have to have another conversation with Mike that he wants even less.
And even later, he will have to introduce Chance to his friends and family, as his boyfriend and the culprit for the first detention that Will took in his entire life.
But now, he just keeps laughing as Chance kisses him at every red sign. And he keeps laughing as they leave the city and go into the unknown.
And when he finds out who sent that damn letter, Will thinks he'll send him a basket of fruit too.
Two months later. California.
Argyle wasn't so stoned when he opened the door.
At least he thought he wasn't. But perhaps he was. Just in case, he gave two slow winks at what he was seeing, as if he could scare the mirage away and bring lucidity to his head full of beautiful hair. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something to it, but nothing came out. He kept staring for a moment longer before ducking.
And pick up the two baskets of fresh fruit in front of him.
He almost lost the note, but his trained eyes – and very red – warned him a second before it flew off in the wind. He caught it.
You made me the happiest person in the world, so here's a thank you. Enjoy the fruits! ;)
Argyle blinked.
Then he looked at the fruits.
"Bro" He said, smiling at the fruits. "Cool."
And who knew Grandma Alberta could really be right? You reap the fruits of your good deeds.
She was wise. It is a good teaching.
Argyle enjoys his fruits.
Far away, in Hawkins, two boys enjoy a date.