Chapter Text
Will didn’t expect to find a queer book in the Wheelers’ basement. He didn’t know how it ended up there, but he was almost grateful to have found it. It was a Sunday morning, and everybody was asleep. Jonathan was sleeping in Nancy’s room, so the basement was empty. He didn’t know how he woke up early, but he didn’t feel like sleeping anymore. Boredom was killing his sleeping schedule. It was also because he had another nightmare about monsters, and he couldn’t shake that cold feeling. The only thing that could keep his mind off his terrors was drawing, but when he reached out for his sketchbook, his hands could only find emptiness.
Weird, he thought.
Usually, he slept with his sketchbook under his pillow, since it was faster to grab it after having a nightmare. Drawing things that scared him helped him feel like he wasn’t going crazy. And lately, he felt crazy enough.
But his sketchbook wasn’t there, and not only was he scared, but he was also bored as hell. He searched everywhere for it, but he didn’t exactly find his sketchbook. He found a book. It wasn’t new, and it had its cover ripped out, almost like its possessor didn’t want to be seen reading it. The spine was broken, and probably the book was read multiple times. Will didn’t feel intrigued by this anonymous book, but he found it curious how a book could be perfectly hidden under a missing tile, which was covered by the couch he was sleeping on. Why hide a book?
The first page was blank. But the second revealed the title: ‘Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin’.
And since he was bored, he started reading it.
‘I stand at the window of this great house in the south of France…’
Or he tried to. Because as soon as his eyes lit up in realisation, his hands burned like they touched something unholy. There. Twenty-seven words. Words that were supposed to be hidden in every lifetime. Ink that felt like it was screaming at him out of spite.
His eyes widened.
‘This is the lie which I told to Giovanni, but never succeeded in making him believe, that I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’
Will closed the book with a loud thump. His heart was pounding, as if it wanted to escape his body. His body wanted to throw the book as far away from him as possible. His mind was empty of words; the only words that echoed were I had. I had. I had. I had. I had. I had. I had.
I had never slept with a boy before. I had.
He stared at the book as if it could burn if he glared at it enough. How did such a book come into that house? Under his couch? Where did he sleep every night? It felt like a personal attack. And maybe he wasn’t ready to deal with it at 7 am. He needed to eat. Or to stop reading that thing.
Breakfast with the Wheelers was uncomfortable, because all Will could think about was who exactly read in their free time a book about a gay man? There were only a few suspects. Ted Wheeler was definitely not a suspect, unless he read those kinds of books when he was younger. Right now, not only was he still at the hospital, but he also usually spent time reading the newspaper or watching TV. Holly was too little to read such a book. That only left Karen, Nancy, Mike, and Jonathan.
His brother could definitely read this book, but it wasn’t annotated with his handwriting. Also, the hiding spot was something only an owner could know about. It was too secretive.
He knew Mike like the back of his hand, and those annotations weren’t definitely in his handwriting. A small part of his heart hoped the book was his, not only because it showed some interest in his kind of love, but also because that could be a sign. But signs died after the end of his monstrous past. He accepted it, and he needed to get over his best friend. Hope was not something he wanted to mess with. Not anymore.
Honestly, that morning, he often thought about Karen Wheeler reading that book, and he lied if he said that fantasy wasn’t appealing. That woman was a dilemma. Her whole appearance was a mask, and that only left questions within himself. Who was the real Karen? Was she only a daughter of God, or could she also hide such terrific sin?
He didn’t cross out that option.
Nancy was his first suspect. Not only was the handwriting feminine, but he also couldn’t remember what her handwriting was like. He didn’t know her like Jonathan or Mike. It made sense for her to read provocative literature and something that could be banned in Hawkins. She was almost perfect, but under her great cover, a rebel lived in her.
The only problem was breakfast. How could he look straight at their faces and not blush at the thought of them reading something so similar to him? Even though he didn't keep reading the book, he stopped after realising that it was a queer book. He didn't even read the annotations, since his thoughts started running in his mind with questions and shock.
He felt seen, even though nobody knew his identity, except for his family. He still remembered the fear he felt when he told his mother, his brother, and his sister about him, before killing Vecna. They were looking at him truly for the first time, without speaking in code or not knowing at all. They accepted him; his sister was mostly confused as to why loving could be wrong, yet this vulnerability accompanied him everywhere he felt their presence. That only made the situation more real, and he had a strange habit of dissociating from reality. Suddenly, he had to grasp the world around him.
What if Nancy or Karen read that book and thought of him? The queer of Hawkins. He could already envision Karen’s knowing glances and then telling him to stay away from her family, from her house, from her son. Nancy could break up with Jonathan, thinking that sinning was in their blood. After all, their father was rotten; would that really be impossible for Will to become like him? He couldn’t do that to Jonathan, even though he wouldn’t fault him for that.
But other than fear, there was also curiosity that pressured his brain. Why were they reading that book? Could they be like him? It was too impossible to imagine, and he already felt bad for thinking that cruel possibility. No one was like him. Except Robin. But Robin wasn’t messed up like him.
“Will, do you want some?”
He almost jumped out of his chair when Nancy looked at him with a plate of bacon in her hands. She was gentle, and he was looking at her as if she could be queer.
But before he could open his mouth to answer her, someone put a plate full of pancakes in front of him. He widened his eyes when he caught a familiar hand holding the plate. The hand had long fingers, dirty with black ink, almost as if the person had pressed his words with force on the white paper. He often dreamt of that hand holding his, ignoring how he stopped feeling the warmth of it after years of growing and leaving childhood behind.
“I made this,” Mike told him, while still hovering behind his back. Then he moved to the sink to wash the dishes his mother had put there after eating breakfast. He didn’t mention how absurd that situation was, but just glanced at him once, almost to make sure that Will had noticed his pancakes.
Nancy snorted, looking at her brother, puzzled. “You cooked?”
“Yes, Nancy. Someone had to,” he replied with his know-it-all tone.
“I literally prepared breakfast for all of us.”
“I know, I was there.” He shrugged, glancing back at Will for the second time. “But you know, Will prefers a sweet breakfast more.”
Will, in fact, preferred a sweet breakfast more. But why did Mike have to notice and cook for him? He still looked at his best friend as he grew three heads. And he tried not to feel warm at his words, but how could he when the smell of that gentle gesture was so appealing? He almost forgot the queer book.
Nancy was staring at his plate, and suddenly her eyes widened like they knew something no one else knew. She stopped eating for two seconds, and Will feared she could sense his inability to hide his red cheeks. Then she continued eating her toast, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, okay.”
‘I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’ And there it was, that thought that wouldn’t leave his mind.
His suspicion returned, unfortunately. Did she know about his feelings? When Robin found out about his crush, he almost died at the thought of being caught in that atrocious act. But then she reassured him, saying that she just considered that option because they were the same, so she knew what signs to search for. But probably the others didn’t consider the option of him truly liking his best friend as more than a friend. Sometimes he felt like it wasn’t true, since he was called for what he truly was since he was a kid. But then he also knew that they just hated what was different from them. Or at least he tried to remind himself that, because falling down the spiral of self-hatred wasn’t sane.
Yet, it made sense, Nancy knowing about him if she read those kinds of books.
“Just that? Just okay? Don’t you have anything mean to say?”
Will didn’t even notice Mike’s scowl, too busy picking up signs and everything that pointed at Nancy reading Giovanni’s Room. Maybe she wasn’t close-minded like her family, and she accepted queers too, just like his brother. That's probably why they were together. Also, she was friends with Robin, so that had to mean something. But just a second ago, he was opting for her homophobia; maybe he was already spiraling.
“Maybe don’t try to poison Will, but I wouldn't consider that mean at all.” Then she picked up the newspaper that had arrived just that morning, and started reading while still enjoying breakfast. Will could feel her interest from there, so he couldn’t ignore that sign. She was a reader.
“I swear to God-”
“Who made pancakes? I could smell them from upstairs.” Jonathan arrived in the kitchen, interrupting the siblings’ bickering. Before Nancy could answer, his brother sat near her and kissed her temple.
Will stopped staring and remembered his breakfast. Maybe eating could stop his mind from wandering into forbidden thoughts. He slowly stabbed a piece of pancake with his knife, and looked at it like it was a fairy offering, so enchanting to forget about time's existence, and stop him from returning to his earthly body, aiming to be allured by Mike’s creation.
He should stop reading fairytales with Holly.
“Me.”
Jonathan cursed Mike and then tried to warn his brother. “Will, don’t eat it! It’s probably poisonous.”
But it was too late, Will was already chewing his breakfast.
“Thank you, Jonathan!” Mike finished washing the dishes and then turned to glare at Will's brother. Then he shifted his attention to him and placed both of his hands on his hips while waiting for his reaction. He probably wanted to prove them wrong.
As the sweet taste touched his tongue, he could already feel his human mortality slip away from him. Or it was his inability to look at Mike’s gestures without feeling like he was placing a spell on him. He sensed a strong taste of cinnamon, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Mike’s eyes, almost asking how he knew he loved it so much. But Mike’s eyes were already satisfied, because Will’s smile had appeared on his lips. He swallowed and then continued eating the rest of the food.
Jonathan was also watching Will’s reaction. “I can’t believe it…”
“Why is that so hard to believe? Even though I prefer kissing a Demogorgon over seeing Nana, she really taught me how to cook.” Then rolled his eyes, “Nancy, you could learn from her, too.”
She scoffed. “As if.”
“No way you didn’t burn the whole kitchen,” his brother said while pushing himself from his seat to take a piece of pancake with his fork. “I have to try it.”
Will wanted to stop him from eating Mike’s breakfast, feeling like he needed to keep it to himself. But he couldn't.
Mike didn’t possess the same gentleness. “Wait-”
“For my brother’s sanity,” Jonathan swore with amusement, before taking in his mouth the fork. Even Nancy had stopped reading her newspaper to stare at them. He looked at her with a fake panicked look. “Fuck, Mike actually knows how to cook?”
Mike tried to stop his sister, too, but she was faster than him. And after eating his pancakes too, she frowned. “Why are they good?”
“I told you.”
Will snorted.
Mike never stopped looking at him, but his stare intensified when Will continued eating. “So, you like it?”
Will didn’t want to embarrass himself by turning into a tomato, so he just nodded.
“Good.”
He still couldn't believe Mike’s gesture. Their friendship has always been like this. When they were younger, they truly lived for each other. Mike saw him. Will saw him too. He always cared for him, it showed in his interest to make sure Will was okay after a nightmare, or that his arms weren't bruised after a fight with his dad. He couldn't imagine a day when he wasn't safe with Mike.
But then everything changed.
He didn't know exactly what happened between 1984 and 1985, or maybe he did know, but the truth always hurt more than lying to himself; Mike changed and stopped caring like he always had.
Sleepless nights were endless, summer's days turned into cold months, and friendship started to look like dust. He let him face his nightmares alone. And maybe Will didn't fault him for that, Mike wasn't like him. He knew that. But why did the letters stop? Will always knew he was alone in this; he never expected Mike to see him for what he truly was. But they always talked; their friendship was always deeper than that. He didn't lose Mike as a lover; he never had him like that, but he lost him as a best friend.
After California, things were different. Mike was present for him, right there where he needed him, but his mind was elsewhere, where Will couldn't reach it. He spent days wondering what had happened, what had changed. He never got an answer. Even though he waited for the avalanche.
God, he was so stupid.
He needed to get his shit together; he couldn't always wait for him like a madman. He cursed himself for waiting. Normal boys didn't wait because they knew to accept that the world wasn't built for them. He was the outsider. Robin was the outsider. She was lucky enough to find her outsider as well.
But luck always spat on him.
Yes, a monster died in him. But maybe it wasn't Vecna, the real monster.
I had never slept with a boy before. I had.
Yet he thought of this last month. He could feel Mike's mind everywhere. They were suddenly existing at the same time, without erasing their past. They ate breakfast together, and they saw Max together. He still let himself wonder what had happened, what had changed?
But Will stopped hoping.
“What’s ‘march fresh start’?” Nancy asked, while chewing her pen. She finished eating and was now looking at the last page of the newspaper with furrowed brows. “Oh, easy. Spring equinox”
Jonathan leaned towards her, squinting his eyes, probably thinking about some word. They always worked together on her crossword. “‘Epic adventure tale’? Ten words."
They looked at him as if he would know the answer. He hated crosswords.
"It's definitely The Odyssey.”
“Definitely,” Will mocked Mike. The boy in question threw him a napkin, but he moved away to avoid it, laughing.
“Do you want to stay here and mock me, or do you think you should get ready?"
Will rolled his eyes, but he got up. It was already late because he had lost time searching for his sketchbook. He didn't find it, and weirdly, he didn't lose his mind. It was caught elsewhere.
"Can't believe today your brother is the late one,” Nancy commented to his brother.
“Can't believe today your brother cooked breakfast."
━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━
Every day, the Party met in front of Hawkins’ Hospital.
They could finally move on from the Upside Down, but happiness soon wore off. They had to pick up the broken pieces that were left at their feet. Will always liked to imagine his life without monsters catching him, but he didn't expect to be faced with this suffering in silence. Max had to deal with the coma she had been in for months. Ted was on the verge of death. Karen couldn't talk, but she was at least out of the hospital. Jane didn't know if she could step outside the cabin. And there were so many scars to heal. Everything was a mess.
But they had to start somewhere. So they visited Max and Ted every morning. Mostly Max.
“Can you stop?"
Will looked over his friends, where they were seated in the waiting room, only to find Lucas glaring at Mike.
“It's 8 am." Lucas closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. “Please."
Mike didn't stop bouncing his leg; instead, he stood up and began walking back and forth in front of them. He wasn't the late one that morning, but his curly black hair was a mess; he probably ran his hand through it multiple times. He was wearing a blue navy sweater, with black jeans, and his usual Converse. They were the same clothes as yesterday.
"What's his problem?” Dustin whispered to Will.
He really had no idea. In the morning, he was calm, almost happy after cooking, and now he was spiraling. He looked like Will's mind. But it was Will the one who woke up with a shocking surprise.
"Why are you asking me?”
"I don't know, maybe because you live together?"
His mother had finally started looking for a house to live in, but they were still trying to fix the Upside Down’s mess, so they kept living with the Wheelers. Jonathan didn't mind it. Will, on the other hand, craved for a room that wasn't intoxicated by Mike's perfume. He was supposed to get over his feelings, but it was impossible if they lived together.
"I don't live in Mike's head.”
Lucas looked as if he were ready to argue.
“I can hear you," Mike snapped. " You know that, right?”
"That's the point.”
Mike sat down and then started pacing again. It was a cycle that didn't stop until visiting hours finally started. He looked worse, though; he kept biting his lip torturously, and Will swore he saw a drop of blood on it.
Had Mike and Max fought?
When they entered, they found Max sitting by the window, with a Walkman on her lap and her headphones around her red hair. She looked calm this morning. He really hoped his two friends wouldn't argue.
Lucas was immediately at her side, and she paused her music. Will smiled when he saw that she was listening to The Cure. After waking up from her coma, she confided in him that Kate Bush was almost tormenting her with memories. He felt her words deep in his bones. He loved The Clash, but it was still hard to forget their haunting voices. So he offered some of his mixtapes, the ones his brother made for him.
Soon they started talking like they always did, Dustin complained about Steve, and Lucas told her about Will's embarrassing fall down the stairs.
“It still hurts!" He almost shouted, laughing at their friends' faces. " I'm not the dramatic one.”
Then Max looked at Mike. They all noticed his silence. “What's up with you, Wheeler?”
Mike didn’t answer her; he looked lost in his thoughts. Will would pay to hear how his mind worked for once in his life. He spent too much time wondering about that. His legs kept bouncing, and his hands were fidgeting uncontrollably. His habits were showing, and Will didn’t know how to make him feel better. He had the urge to place his hand over his knee. That worked when they were little.
Lucas and Dustin looked at each other.
“Mike!”
He still didn’t open his mouth; instead, he glanced at the door, almost like he wanted to run away.
Will was starting to be concerned. He didn’t look like that since before the end of their supernatural lives. He had to step in. “Mike?”
He finally looked up, his dark eyes met his, and Will felt uneasy being under his panicked glance.
“Everything all right?”
At first, he kept eye contact, and he opened his mouth, as if he wanted to spill all his secrets. Mike’s cheeks flushed when he heard Dustin open the door, then he looked around and found the other four eyes staring at him. He probably remembered they weren’t the only people in the room. “What?”
“Definitely not,” Max commented.
Will thought of saying something, but then Mike stood up, and words were lost on him. He immediately understood his typical pacing; it meant Mike was anxious about something. What could have possibly happened? At first, he thought of his sister, but they seemed fine only last week. It had to do with Max, because he looked guilty.
“Sorry,” he blurted out, his tone increasing in volume. “I- Sorry.”
“What are you on about?” Max arched an eyebrow. She didn’t look concerned like Will; instead, she smirked. He was confused. Their relationship was so weird.
“Can we- Can we talk?” He didn’t look at his friends; he only kept his stare steady on Max. Then he went to pick her cane, not waiting for her answer. In a minute, they were already out of the room.
Will and his friends stayed silent for some seconds.
“What was that?” Dustin laughed nervously. So he wasn’t the only concerned one, Will noticed.
Lucas didn’t share their surprise. He brought his leg close to his chest and rested his chin on top of his knee. He resembled a man who was accustomed to their strange behaviour. At first, he seemed as if he didn’t want to talk about it, but after glancing at the floor, he opened his mouth. “It’s their thing.”
Will’s confusion wasn’t fading away. “Their thing?”
Lucas nodded. “Yeah.”
“They have a thing?” Dustin asked. “Max and Mike? Our Max and Mike?”
Lucas’ eyes widened. Then he stifled a laugh. “No! Dustin, what the hell?”
“You said-”
“We’re literally dating!”
“Why are you acting like I’m stupid? You formed it wrong!”
“You’re slow, man.”
“Dude-”
Will rolled his eyes. “Guys.”
Finally, they stopped arguing like children. He knew Max and Lucas were dating, so he wasn’t concerned about that, but he still wanted to know why Mike was in a trance, and Max seemed to know about it.
Lucas exchanged a glance with him, and he seemed to understand his perplexity. “They’re closer,” he explained, like that would dissolve all their confusion. After he and Dustin stayed in silence, he sighed. “After Max woke up… She wasn’t well, and she let me be her support, but Mike was the only one who seemed to get her. She opened up to him, or that’s what she said. She didn’t go into details, you know her.”
That made sense. He knew they were spending more time together. Usually, they stayed at the hospital all morning on the weekends, but after lunch, Mike always came back, right when Lucas decided to go home to rest. He never thought that much about it, since he tried to spend less time with him.
“I don’t know much about it, but he makes her talk. I think that when you were in California,” Lucas looked at him, “they were really friends.”
Dustin moved closer with his chair, as if he wanted to share a secret. “Yeah, that’s true. Once I went to Mike’s, and she was in his basement.”
Will snorted. “You make it sound like he killed her.”
They laughed. The air was clearer, but still Will asked himself why Mike was so distressed.
“Maybe? No, but seriously,” Dustin's smile wore off. “Are they okay?”
Will's heart softened at Dustin's words. The Party was almost like a broken record; they could still hear lyrics and melodies, but their dynamics weren’t perfect anymore. Was growing up the cause of that? Or was it the Upside Down that found a way in their friendships and decided that it wasn’t a safe space anymore? So many things happened, and they didn’t have time to fix all their problems. But now they had time, and Will could see in Dustin's eyes that he was trying to be better for them. He never blamed him; grief looked heavy on him. But Mike often argued with him about it. About Eddie. But Will noticed how his friend didn’t let himself get attached to his other friends, and even Steve was lost.
One day, he even came up to them to ask them about Dustin, but the boy didn’t talk to them either.
That evening in Mike’s room, his best friend 9had complained about how Eddie was Mike’s friend too. He would understand better than anyone. But it was clear to Will that Dustin didn’t want to face his death. They waited for him to open up. He never did.
They didn’t need to run after monsters anymore; it was their feeling that were catching up to them.
“Max will slap Mike, and maybe he will come to his senses,” Lucas smiled. He was so sure of it.
“I'm surprised she hasn't killed him yet."
" Maybe she was the one hiding his corpse in his basement,” Will added to his point.
Lucas was right.
Max looked smug when they came back, and Mike was relieved. He was okay, and Will was silently grateful to have spared his mind for only some minutes the freedom not to start thinking about the book again. He almost wanted to ask Mike some questions, but he didn’t want to risk losing himself in his eyes. He was really trying.
“Do you have to go now?” Max whispered to Mike, and he nodded.
“You’re going already?” Will found himself asking his friend.
He didn’t look at him. “I have something to do.”
He didn’t wait for his answer; he said goodbye fast enough and then bolted out the door.
Will was still confused.
After some hours, Dustin too decided that he needed to work on a science project, so he left. Will decided to eat lunch with Max and Lucas, since Mike had disappeared, and he didn't want to go to his house alone. Max seemed better that day, her cheeks were flushed from laughter, and her hand never left Lucas’.
Vecna's curse didn't leave her intact. Even though she started moving pretty fast, leaving the wheelchair behind, she couldn't say the same about the cane. It was two weeks ago when they told her she would never gain her sight again. Will could see the world crumbling over her shoulders in the way her smile dropped. Sometimes he feels like she will never be the same, Max. Or maybe she was never the same after Billy's death.
He knew the feeling. Will Byers died that cold night in 1983, and he was never the same. But he saw how much she tried never to give up. He couldn't say the same.
━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━
Jane was sitting on her bed when Will entered her room. She wasn’t actually sitting; her legs leaned against the wall, and her head hung from the bed, but when she saw him enter, she immediately sat like a normal person. They only saw each other the day before, but she still jumped from the bed to hug him.
Still, she didn’t wait for formalities. “How was Max?”
“You would know it if you came," he said gently, while pressing a kiss to her hair. Even though he wasn't the taller of the party, he still hovered over her.
"Can we not talk about this?” She slowly pulled away from him. For a minute, he questioned if she was angry at him for having said that, since she probably heard that comment all day, but then she smiled. "Just for today?”
How could he say no to her?
"What do you want to do?”
She smirked.
"Can we talk shit about boys?” She asked innocently. Someone would think that after coming out to her sister, she would want to talk about how beautiful men are. Instead, she wanted to insult them. It was definitely Max’s conditioning.
He rolled his eyes.
She didn't wait for his answer and took his hand, dragging him over the bed. They fell on it together, and then she placed his head on her lap.
"First of all, why do they always smell bad?”
He opened his mouth to argue, but he was stopped by her ranting.
“Max told me that sometimes they don't even clean themselves after peeing,” she gestured as she spoke. "Is that true?”
She didn't let him answer.
"That's disgusting. But you know what's more disgusting? Them expecting me to do what they say! I love Hop, but seriously, why do I need to make him coffee? I don't even know how to make coffee!"
She didn't stop talking until she was out of breath. She looked at him as if he would agree with her immediately, but he didn't even have the time, because she started talking again.
"And you know what? They're also so stupid! Are they constipated or something? I hope it's the right word because I just learnt it the other day,” she explained, not remembering that he taught her that word. "Like, do you think they do it on purpose? They can't be that stupid! They don't even let themselves feel emotions. That's depressing."
He wondered what exactly happened to make her explode like this.
“I'm just confused all the time when they open their mouths. Are we really different species? Do boys feel threatened by girls?"
This time, when she closed her glossy lips, she waited for his answer. She clearly wanted to hear his opinion. He was speechless. He heard this conversation multiple times with Max, but he didn't know what to actually think.
"Probably?”
" Why is that a question? You're a boy,” she said simply.
“I don't feel threatened by girls," he started saying. “Wait, sometimes they scare me."
She furrowed her brows. She was really listening to what he was saying. She always did. " Why?”
He didn't know how to explain that every time he looked at something feminine he would remember everything he was and wasn't. What they could have, and what he couldn't.
At some point, Will even felt jealous of his male best friends, who could have a normal life, living without sick needs, whispering sins in his head, loving girls, and finding devotion in the feminine. Women were pretty, they were almost divine, so sacred that he couldn’t love them. He was only a mortal atheist, and how could he even expect to worship their souls and their grace?
Yet he tried.
One day, he found himself looking at the most beautiful girl in the school. She reminded him of a knight, one he would read about in his favorite bedtime stories, with her sharp traits and her bold attitude. Her laugh was loud, fearless, and he could only admire her brave heart. She looked like a Bowie song, portraying masculine virility and feminine sparkle. He almost wanted her blonde shaggy haircut.
But then he understood. Among all the beautiful girls he could find in the school, the prettiest really was the androgynous one? Yet Will stopped believing in coincidences at twelve years old.
But he wasn't only jealous of normal boys. It was more than that. Girls could have what he had always dreamt. They could love drawing without being ashamed of colors. They could taste their tears without hearing screaming about how they weren't boy enough. They could picture themselves holding hands with boys, and exchanging vows and kisses. They could love boys.
That narrator came back to bite him.
‘I had never slept with a boy before. I had.’
He wasn't a girl. But he also wasn't a normal boy.
“I think that sometimes, when you're a girl or a boy, people have expectations,” Will tried his best not to sound like he was on the verge of tears. He wasn't. "And that's scary, because you can't have an opinion on what you actually want to do.”
When he said that, she glanced at the Bowie poster he had gifted her. That's how he knew she could always understand what he felt. Even though she liked different kinds of music, she always welcomed his taste with open arms.
"Sometimes this leads us on different planets,” he explained his thoughts while stroking her brown hair; it was wavy from braids. “Don't you think?"
He always had male friends, but when he met Max and Jane, everything changed. Then he learnt to live with a sister for the first time. It didn't make the jealousy better, but he also started to understand that while he wanted to be like them, sometimes they wanted to be like him, too.
Maybe the world wasn't meant for either of them.
“This relates to what Jonathan was saying the other day, right?"
“What was he saying?"
“About what's considered feminine and masculine."
Of course, Jonathan would say that, he thought.
“Yes."
She took his hand, noticing how this subject was just as heavy for him. “It's stupid."
“It is."
He felt warmth at her words. He knew that she was often left confused at how society worked, and to be honest, sometimes when she spoke out loud, her puzzlement was contagious. She asked so many questions, and that made him think about how the world looked through her eyes. It didn’t make sense.
Will’s mind imagined a world where they were connected by blood, where every time his dad screamed at him, he only needed to grasp his sister's hand and know that only because he hovered over him with big words and strong opinions, it didn’t make them true. Jonathan was his safe place, but Jane was different just like him. They only needed to believe in each other.
“You can be masculine and feminine with me," she offered, placing her hands over his face, touching his skin like it was made of gold.
He then nodded, feeling his wrongness slip away from him.
After a moment where he analysed her words, a thought stuck with him. " Wait, so you talked about this with Jonathan?” Maybe the queer book was meant to haunt him all day.
“I already told you that.”
“Yes, but-”
But if Jonathan had that conversation with her, it could lead to Nancy. Maybe he inspired her to read Giovanni’s Room, or maybe it was his, and he let her read it, let her read a piece of him. But then why did Jonathan never talk about it with him? He always shared his interests. That’s also why it makes sense for Nancy to be inspired by him. Without Jonathan, Will probably wouldn’t see the world as he sees it. Jane was lucky to be part of their family. He knew that they were always judged by other conservative families, but his brother never cared.
He was a freak. And he taught him how to be it too.
It all started with music: the only illusion of salvation he could’ve found. Jonathan made him listen to his favourite bands, and he saw so many different worlds in them. At least someone was like him. It was the perfect illusion. And so many artists criticized the performed conformity requested to participate in their society. With their words, he could be himself, without hiding or pretending to be someone he wasn’t.
And that was how his life changed. Yes, that was it: finding non-conformism in music. All thanks to Jonathan.
“Nancy was there too.”
Will felt something like hope sparkling in him. “Nancy?”
“You know how they’re always together.”
“What did she say?”
Jane shrugged. “What she always says, how girls can be manly too, and that we’re all the same.”
She said that girls can be manly. That’s another sign.
“Can you paint my nails now?” She asked, showing him her bad attempt at drawing stars over her purple nails.
“Sure.”
They went to the kitchen, since it was empty, and the table was more comfortable.
In the last year, his mother would often stay at the cabin with Hopper, but now that Karen had to heal properly, and Ted was still at the hospital, she felt the need to be there for them all. Mostly for Holly. So the cabin was always empty, because where Joyce went, Hopper followed. Also, he was trying to get his job back. Now he came back from the dead to fight for Jane and for himself, too. Will admired his strong sense of duty; it reminded him of everything Lonnie hated.
A lot of months had passed since Hopper’s time in Russia, but they still hadn’t spent that much time together. Will was scared to know him. What if he hated him? Then her mother would break up with him because of it. She always put him first. She was guilty of their past, where sometimes Will fell behind her needs. She never forgives herself for that.
He knew that Hopper wasn’t like his father. But he had a loud voice, and sometimes he and Jane screamed at each other in a way that made Will want to lock himself in the closet.
But now he knew that it was only a matter of time before his mother would buy a house for his family and Hopper. He had to accept it.
“Mike showed me some pictures a while ago,” she started talking, while waving at him to come closer. “You were dressed as a wizard.”
He blushed. Why did Mike show her his pictures?
“I want my nails to look like you.”
Will bit his lips to stop himself from smiling. She really said that? “Well, you look like a wizard too.”
He started painting her nails purple, before that, removing her failing attempts. But he couldn’t shake the thoughts of Mike and his sister watching old pictures, and probably talking about him. What did Mike think of him?
He was such a dilemma these days.
━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━
His mother and Hopper came back right after dinner, at the same time he was riding his bike to go back to the Wheelers’. She made him stop just to kiss him goodbye. Then he went straight to that house. The moment had arrived; how could it not? He spent every minute that day thinking about that book, and he only read a few pages. But he needed to continue. Yes, it felt unholy, but who was he if not a guilty boy?
Will was finally able to open Giovanni’s Room again. So he ran to the basement, ignoring every sort of sound he heard from the kitchen.
He locked himself in the bathroom and started reading from the first line, even though he had already read it. But those words haunted him all day. He was ready to consume every word, every annotation, and, maybe, even himself in the process.
He soon felt engaged with the story, but as soon as he found words traced with a black pen, he felt eager to read them and comprehend them. Under ‘the most mechanical responsibility for them,’ was written: It's been days since I picked this book. Maybe weeks. I saw a name on page, but my mind reads another. Is it too coincidental that I read my mind being written on paper by some writer in 1956? Is this the truth? Years I've been mechanical. But marriage isn't supposed to be this. Love isn't supposed to be forced. David looks at marriage as something mechanical that has to be done.
Will’s hands were frozen on the pages. But he didn’t let himself hope, or think too much about his suspects. He promised himself that he would wait before thinking too much about it.
He continued reading. His eyes were sleepy, but he wanted to at least finish the chapter. He wasn’t really a reader; he only ever read comics. But maybe for the first time, he felt engaged with a novel. A word stuck with him; he turned the page, thinking about how this book was written in 1956. He realised that people from years ago, maybe even centuries, had the same thoughts and feelings as him. That had to mean something.
It was confirmed when he read: ‘For a while he was my best friend. Later, the idea that such a person could have been my best friend was proof of some horrifying taint in me.’ He thought about these kinds of words so many times.
And not only him.
Isn’t it how it all began?
It certainly began like that for both of them. Will didn’t know what to think of it.
At a certain point, he read words that felt like maybe Vecna wasn’t dead after all. His words echoed in his mind, the many times he told him he was sick, and he was a monster, and no one would ever understand him. No one.
'My own body suddenly seemed gross and crushing and the desire which was rising in me seemed monstrous. But, above all, I was suddenly afraid. It was borne in on me: But Joey is a boy. I saw suddenly the power in his thighs, in his arms, and in his loosely curled fists. The power, the promise, and the mystery of that body made me suddenly afraid. That body suddenly seemed the black opening of a cavern in which I would be tortured till madness came, in which I would lose my manhood. Precisely, I wanted to know that mystery, feel that power, and have that promise fulfilled through me. The sweat on my back grew cold. I was ashamed. The very bed, in its sweet disorder, testified to vileness.'
Wasn’t that what his father always told him? That he was not manly enough? He felt sick to his stomach. He never thought that someone else could feel the same hatred towards them. His brother always told him that he was normal. Robin tried to let him see that they weren’t supposed to be ashamed of their love. And he knew it. He accepted that he was like this. What Robin said that day in the tunnels still felt alive on his skin, how powerful he was with all these happy and lovely memories. But did it matter if it could all be destroyed by Vecna’s words?
His family accepted him. But the world didn’t. He could go home and be happy and proud, but then he would go to school and stare at the words written on the bathroom’s wall: ‘Will Byers is a fag’. It wasn’t easy. He wanted to stop feeling this guilty for loving his best friend. But the nightmares still haunted him in the middle of the night.
He needed to move on. He repeated these words a thousand times a day.
Maybe I'm not sick if someone like me felt this way before. Or maybe we're all doomed. Maybe we were all born from this sickness, just to spread and continue to feel these evil feelings. Why can’t we stop? Why?
He wished to know who had read this book before him. It felt like they were reading his mind.
When he finished reading the chapter, there were tears stains on the last page. Suddenly, there was proof that he had read this book. Will Byers read a queer book, and he didn’t die. He only felt like a dying corpse on the inside. But there was a spark within him that he couldn’t ignore after he read the last line and the annotation that stuck within it.
'And we got on quite well, really, for the vision I gave my father of my life was exactly the vision in which I myself most desperately needed to believe.'
David needed desperately to love who he needed to love. He lied to himself and to others so many times. But it was always there. Always. Maybe now he can stop lying to himself, but I can’t. I can’t. Lies are too good to be turned into dust.
Whoever this person was, they were exactly like him. And maybe he didn’t have to feel so alone all the time.