Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

i.

Eddie’s pretty sure that Byers kid is a queer. 

Not that he means that in a bad way! For Christ’s sake, if he lived anywhere but Hawkins fucking Indiana he himself wouldn’t have to hang out in the back of a glass-doored closet just to keep himself from getting hate-crimed.

But there’s something about the awkward stance, artistic spirit, and the way he sits and watches the other kids instead of actively engaging that screams kindred spirit , even though he and the kid couldn’t be any more different. Kinda makes him want to take him under his wing or something gross and poetic like that. 

It’s not the same instinct he feels over Dustin. No, that butthead’s his little brother, his partner in crime- the weird little Pippin to his Merry, the Chewie to his Han Solo. Byers (Will, he reminds himself, he should call him by his first name if he’s considering giving the poor guy a heart attack in the near future) triggers some latent protective instinct he didn’t know he had. 

Even now, as the kiddos and Steve frolic- yes, Harrington, you’re frolicking- in the woods outside not-Chief-anymore Hopper’s old shack, Will sits off to the side on a log, scribbling away in his new sketchbook. Every once in a while he’ll glance up at them, but Eddie sees where his eyes linger- on Nancy’s kid brother, and the girl with the mind powers. At first he thinks Will’s looking at Eleven, but no. Eddie knows better.

Watching this scene, safe in the knowledge that Vecna-slash-One-slash-Henry and the Mindflayer and the Upside Down are gone, the cool rim of a Coke bottle dangling between the fingers of his non-broken arm as he watches Lucas read another Stephen King book to a wheelchair-bound Max, Steve grab Robin around the middle from behind to dump her in a pile of leaves as she shrieks with laughter, Nancy and Mrs. Byers chatting and looking on affectionately…

Eddie has the feeling he’s never going to forget this moment. Shame to risk ruining it.

“Hey,” he says, loud enough for Jonathan to hear him. Jonathan is some weirdly good company- just strange enough to deal with Eddie’s… Eddie-ness, quiet enough to enjoy sitting next to him on the porch step as he fiddles with his camera. 

Jonathan jerks a little, like he’s not used to being addressed, and looks over at him. “What?”

Eddie rolls his toothpick around with his tongue, choosing his words carefully. Not carefully enough, though, it seems, because the next words that drop out of his fat mouth are: “How long has your brother had a thing for the Wheeler kid?”

Jonathan goes even more stiff. Eddie didn’t think that was possible, but he does. Honestly, he's only ever seen the guy relax when he's high as a damn kite. His hands fumble the camera, nearly dropping it down the step. “What?” he blurts, floundering a little. “What do you mean? I don’t-” 

Eddie watches him impassively, waiting for the storm of stammering and fluttering hands to pass. Finally, Jonathan rights himself, swallowing hard. “What- uh. What gives you that idea? Will’s not…” His gaze bounces away, over to Will gazing at Mike again. He seems to reconsider his stance, and Eddie watches his expression go all steely defensive. It’s adorable, actually, how ready he is to defend his little bro. “What about it? Are you gonna be an asshole about it?” 

Eddie snorts. “Think that'd make me a bit of a hypocrite, huh?” Involuntarily, his gaze gravitates towards Harrington like he’s a magnet and Eddie is Dustin’s shitty little compass. He senses Jonathan following his gaze, followed by a quiet little " oh." He keeps his expression purposefully impassive, staring out over the small clearing.

Finally, Jonathan says, “I don’t know. A while. But I know about… it. And he knows I know. But Mike is…” he trails off.

“Straight-laced as they come and about as observant as a brick?” Eddie offers, and Jonathan coughs on a laugh. 

“You could say that.”

Eddie hmms. He knows three things about Will Byers, now: 

1) He's is terrible at hiding the fact that he's gay and pining. 

2) He's been through hell and back and still managed to come out on top. 

3) He's into Dungeons and Dragons. 

That's enough similarities for him. "Hey, Byers!" he calls, across the clearing. Will startles a little- like brother, like brother, or something like that- and looks up. Eddie waves him over. "Get over here. I wanna see what you're drawing." 

Will looks unsure for a moment, eyes flicking between him and Jonathan for a moment- 

But then Jonathan nods a little, and Will gathers his notebook and pencils, picking his way over to them. 

Eddie's chest warms with something unfamiliar.

ii.

So, it turns out Will Byers is also 4) cool as hell, at least in Eddie's opinion. At first he's worried Dustin's going to get jealous or something when he starts accidentally ditching his bro to hang out with another one of his friends, but the kiddo's a trooper about it. 

"Oh, please," Dustin says. "He needs someone like you. Like a Steve. You guys will be best pals, don't worry."

Eddie… thinks he knows what that means. Maybe. 

Anyway. 

It seems like poor Will's been starved for D&D content. When Eddie suggests that he help work out the finer details of a campaign he's writing for the kids, he lights up like a string of Christmas lights. 

(Whoops. Bad comparison, Munson. Let's not say that one out loud.)

By the end of that prep session, Eddie's mourning all the time he's wasted with Byers not attached to his side as his evil little Dungeon Master apprentice. The kid is a creative genius- finds narrative connections where Eddie wouldn't have even considered looking, spins combat into the story in a way that would even make Gareth weep. 

It's one of these such meetings when Will pipes up with a, "Hey, Eddie?"

Eddie hums. "What is up, Will the Wise," he replies absently, preoccupied with meticulously painting the eyes on this Beholder minifigure that's been neglected for ages. He's sure he looks ridiculous, hair pulled back and tongue poking out between his teeth. 

But Will's gracious enough not to say anything about that, and instead asks, "Why do you always have a bandana in your pocket?"

The next streak of paint goes embarrassingly wide. Eddie curses as it smears onto his hand, but the damage is done. "Jesus Christ kid, what? Why do you want to know about that?"

Will blinks, clearly confused. "Because… you always carry it around? And you never use it?" He shifts a little, uncomfortable, and Eddie can see him wondering if he's overstepped. 

Eddie sits back in his seat. Fuck almighty, how does he explain this? Somehow, he thinks "I started wearing it so people thought I was a freak who was into BDSM, and also call out straight guys who just happened to know what it means" doesn't seem like it'll go over well. 

"It's… Well, it started out as a joke," he finally hedges. "For me it doesn't mean anything. I just think it looks cool. And hey, who doesn't mind having a handkerchief around in case of emergency?" He laughs a little, but it sounds forced even to his own ears. 

Will stares at him, more lost than ever. "Okay," he says slowly, "then what's it supposed to mean?"

"It's…" Eddie sighs. "It's the hanky code, kid. You know, so people know what you're…" He makes a vague gesture with his hands. "…into."

Silence. 

"For sex," he clarifies. 

Worse silence. 

"For guys who don't like girls," he adds. Hopefully that'll smooth things over… ironically. 

There it is. Eddie can see the gears turning in Will's head, and the exact moment his meaning clicks into place. "You're…?" Will trails off. It's sad to see, honestly, like he won't even let himself hope he's found someone who not only accepts him, but is like him in that way.

Eddie nods, keeping his face carefully neutral. "Yup. Known since middle school." 

Will flounders, mouth opening and closing a few times as he searches for words. He won't look up, suddenly preoccupied with the miniature in front of him. 

"Me too," he finally blurts, and fuck's sake, the poor kid sounds choked up. Briefly, Eddie wonders if it's the first time he's said it out loud. 

He shuffles his chair closer, slinging an arm around Will's shoulders. They're trembling, so Eddie pulls him into his side for a hug. He's not usually one for dealing with crying kids, but like hell he's gonna let Will ride this out alone. 

"Hey," he finally says, and the kid looks up at him. "You know what this means. We gotta stick together." He offers his most winning smile, shaking Will's shoulder for emphasis. "Birds of a feather or whatever."

After a moment, Will smiles back, shaky but bright.

Chapter Text

iii.

"Eddie," Will says from the doorway to his room.

Eddie squawks, fingers slipping on the strings of his guitar and pulling a discordant twang! from it. "Jeeesus Christ, Byers!" he yelps. "Warn a guy!" 

"Hey, Eddie, I'm coming over," Will deadpans. The kid's developing a wicked dry sense of humor lately, completely at odds with the way he gangles in the doorway, tugging at the sleeves of his plaid shirt like he can hide in it like a turtle. 

There's a few beats of awkward silence. Eddie opens his mouth to speak, only for Will to beat him to the punch. 

"Are you-"

"I want you to make me look cool," Will blurts. 

Eddie stares at him. 

Will… Well, he doesn't stare back, but he continues to gangle at the entrance to Eddie's room nervously. 

"Oookay," Eddie says slowly, giving the kid time to back out. He sets his guitar aside and pulls his legs up, making room on the bed. "Why?"

"Because you're cool." Will takes his silent invitation and plunks down on the mattress. "And you don't give a s-shit what others think. And I thought maybe if I- if I looked more like you, dressed like you, then… it would be easier to act like that.” His shoulders hunch in a little, like he’s waiting for Eddie to make fun of him for it.

Instead he’s quiet for a few seconds, watching Will, thoughtful. “Well,” he says finally. “Not that I’m gonna complain about the opportunity to turn… this-” He gestures to Will’s everything, and gets a scowl in return. “-into a work of art, but… Are you sure? Is it cool with your mom? I don’t wanna piss off badass Mama Byers.”

Will scoffs a laugh. “Mom doesn’t care as long as I don’t pierce anything or get a tattoo.”

“… I can cut your hair?” 

Will shrugs. 

Eddie wonders if his eyes are sparkling. “I can put makeup on you?"

Will wrinkles his nose a little, but otherwise doesn't seem opposed. "I've.. never tried it."

"Excellent." Eddie stands, crossing to his closet and throwing it wide open. "This is going to be fun."

It turns out he and Will are, miraculously, fairly similar in size. The kid's a little scrawnier in the chest with broader shoulders, but a little lankier in the limb department, so Eddie snips the arms off a spare black Hellfire Club tee he's been meaning to repurpose. And Will loves his layers, so he manages to excavate the denim jacket he'd worn as a high school freshman from the bottom of his closet- a lovingly hand-painted deal, covered in bottlecap buttons and band pins. 

He also spends damn near an hour on Will's hair, buzzing the sides shorter, higher, and fluffing away that god awful bowlcut. This is Eddie's favorite part of the process, but clearly not Will's, judging by the series of sneezes that escape him when Eddie sprays a generous amount of Aquanet into the tiny-ass bathroom. Music- good music, a mixtape of Metallica and Iron Maiden and Ozzy and Pantera courtesy of Jonathan-  blasts from the small cassette player, and Eddie almost shears Will’s hair too short with how hard the kid laughs at his headbanging.

But a pair of ripped jeans and a generous amount of eyeliner and rings later, Will Byers stands in front of the mirror hanging on the back of Eddie's door and just… stares at his reflection. 

"Holy crap, Eddie." 

His hair spikes up and forward in the front, reminiscent of a mohawk but without the commitment. He stands taller out of the confines of his button-up, shoulders back as he turns this way and that to see how the jacket fits him. 

"We'll get you a pair of proper Doc Martens sometime," Eddie says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Really complete the look." 

Will huffs a laugh, disbelieving. "Eddie, I…" He shakes his head. "Thank you. This is… exactly what I wanted." Something warm and proud and increasingly familiar decides to settle in behind Eddie’s sternum. He grins, squeezing his shoulder. 

“Anytime, kid. S’what I’m good at, apparently.” 

Seconds later, he remembers something. “Oh- shit. Hang on.” Will makes a questioning noise, but Eddie’s already at his dresser, rummaging through the box that holds all his necklaces and rings. “Little son of a bitch, where are you-” he mutters to himself, then aha! ’s triumphantly, holding his find aloft. He presses it into Will’s hand a moment later, the chain dangling between them.

 “Here,” Eddie tells him, “someone gave this to me when I was… Y’know. Around your age. And trying to… figure my own shit out.”

Will opens his hand. A glittering d20, transparent and jewel-like red, secured to the chain with a loop rests there, waiting for him to put it on. 

“Eddie…”

“This is me passing on the torch,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “So don’t give me that blah-blah-I-can’t-accept-this shit. You’re taking it.” Taking it from Will’s hand, he loops it around the kid’s head. It settles between his collarbones, catching the light like it belongs there. 

“... What was his name?” Will asks a few seconds later, quietly. Eddie goes still. “Your friend, I mean. Was he…?” He trails off, but the like us hangs unspoken in the air. 

Eddie’s… He’s quiet for a few moments. God, he hasn’t thought about this shit in… years. Well before his life took a turn for the weird, at the very least. For just a moment, he’s afraid to look up, worried he won’t see Will standing in front of him- that he’ll see himself, skinny and 14 and weepy-eyed, hands with nails painted black resting on his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he finally replies. “Name was Darren. I was around your age, I think. He lived around Hawkins, out near Wheeler’s place.” 

Letting go of Will’s upper arms, he sits down on his mattress, leaning his elbows on his knees. “We were… pretty good friends in school. Took me in for a couple months when my parents kicked me out for being a queer before Wayne was able to get ahold of me. His mom was this Annie Lennox-looking lesbian bitch, mean as hell if you pissed her off.” He laughs quietly, and glances up at Will as the kid sits down next to him. “She called my parents and bitched them out, told them to beat it out of town if they didn’t want their windows bashed in with a crowbar. God, she was so cool. Reminds me of your mom, kinda, actually.” He looks at Will to find him smiling a little, like he agrees. “They always joked about adopting me. Moving up to Chicago or something, somewhere a little friendlier than here. He taught me to play D&D and guitar and shit. That being a little weirdo was okay.”

He shrugs. “Then they left. During the summer in ‘82. I went over one day for dinner and there was a For Sale sign in the front yard and their house was cleared out. Guess it turned out there was some family issue out west. They tried leaving a note on their door for me, but you know how people in this place can be towards freaks. Never got back in touch.”

“I’m sorry,” Will says softly, automatically. Eddie’s heard it a million times, but somehow, it’s different knowing Will gets it, on some level. Still, he waves a hand, dismissive on reflex.

“Ah, it’s fine. It’s in the past, who cares. What matters is you’re keeping that thing.” He pokes Will’s side, making him squawk a little. “Never rolled me under a 13. May it guide you well, Will the Wise.”

Will scoffs a quiet laugh, bonking his shoulder lightly against Eddie’s. “You’ve got us now,” he says. “I’m sure he’d be proud of you. But now you’ve got us to take care of you. Like you do for us.” He looks up at Eddie, earnest.

The proud feeling in his chest blooms just a little brighter.

Chapter Text

(interlude)

Joyce has never been more glad her telemarketer job is a work-from-home gig. It made moving home to Hawkins once Hop got reinstated as Chief the easiest thing in the world- despite his insistence that she didn't have to lift a finger if she didn't want to. 

("Don't you try to pull that big macho act on me, Jim Hopper," she'd told him, poking a finger into his chest. It's not the first time she's done it, but it's the first time he'd laughed and responded by pulling her into a sweet little kiss. She's still getting used to that part.)

His old trailer had already sold, and the cabin is a little too out of the way, so they'd pooled their resources and gotten themselves a nice, modest house not far from the Hendersons' with enough space to fit themselves and all three kids. 

(She's still getting used to that part, too.)

Will is with his new friend- Eddie something-or-other, the newest addition to Steve-and-Robin-and-Nancy-and-Jonathan, and Jon is off having dinner at the Wheeler's. El is attached to Hop's side more often than not these days, even at the police department, so the house is empty as she stirs the pot of spaghetti sauce simmering on the stove. The old Sinatra album the kids dug up a few years back crackles along in the record player, so she lets herself hum softly under it.

All things considered, including the past few months, life is good. 

She hears the front door open and shut. Dinner with Nancy always lasts for a few hours, so she calls, "Will? Honey, that you?" 

"Hi, Mom," comes the reply, followed by a less-familiar "Evening, Mama Byers."

Joyce turns, then shrieks as a stranger in ripped jeans appears in the doorway to her kitchen.

Okay, well, it's not a stranger. But sue her if life has trained her to be a little jumpy, okay? It takes her a second to recognize Will; her sweet, sensitive boy she'd sent away an hour ago in a button-up and ragged sneakers, now looks like he's walked off the fashion page of a Metal Edge magazine, clunky boots in hand and hair tousled in the front. "Jesus, Will!" she gasps, pressing a hand to her chest and leaning back against the counter. "You- are you wearing makeup?"

Will beams, and yeah, that's still her boy under there. "Eddie gave me a makeover!"

Eddie, presumably, grins at her over Will's shoulder. He's a lanky, tall, rocker-looking type with a shag of dark curls, and the aha clicks suddenly in Joyce's head. It's not that she minds, though, at all- she's heard good things about Eddie, murder charges aside. The kids like him, Nancy likes him, and Steve likes him. That's a good enough track record for her. 

Will's brilliant smile has dimmed a bit, waiting for her reaction. Oh, damn. The last thing in the world that she wants is to kill his creative expression… and frankly, the way she conducted herself in her 20s, she has quite literally no room to talk. Hop still teases her about her leather jackets in high school, and the colorful eyeshadow she wore in her Ziggy Stardust phase. So she smiles, bright, holds her arms out for a hug. 

"You look great, honey," she tells him, reeling him in. "But…" She lets her gaze slide over to Eddie, who blanches a little, clearly readying himself for some sort of rejection, before she continues, "A Metallica shirt? Really? You could have at least sprung for Zeppelin or something."

Eddie stares at her in shock for one beat, two, then throws his head back on a bright, open laugh. It changes his entire stance, his whole demeanor, and for a second Joyce can tell exactly why the kids like him so much. It reminds her of Will, in a way, back before everything went to hell. 

"Didn't expect you to have actual music taste, Mama Byers," he shoots back, leaning against the doorway. "Pegged you for a Tears for Fears and ABBA type." 

Joyce laughs, too. "I'm full of surprises, I guess," she says, letting Will go. "Do you want to stay for dinner?" 

Eddie looks surprised by the offer, and she watches him shift in place, a little awkward. It's endearing, she thinks to herself, even if he seems like he's going to decline. 

But then Will looks at him, excited and hopeful, and Joyce sees the exact moment he crumbles before the Byers Puppy Eyes. 

"Okay," he finally says. "Fuck it. Dinner."

Eleven thinks it's "bitchin'," when they get home, and wants Eddie to take her shopping next. Hopper asks who Metallica is, which leads to a conversation Will's pretty sure Eddie never thought he’d have with the former head of the police department. Mom gives him some pocket cash to go to the thrift shop, so by the time he sees the Party next at D&D he’s not relying on Eddie’s hand-me-downs anymore. Lucas is with Max at her physical therapy, which takes a little pressure off the interaction. 

Still, he feels his anxiety spike as Steve’s house comes into view. They’ve shifted their weekly meetings there- while Mom would probably be willing, their house is a little out of the way, and Mike’s mom wasn’t exactly keen on having them kicking back in their basement anymore. So Steve offered his own dining room- his parents are absent often enough it’s easy to schedule around their periodic visits home. 

Nobody got on Dustin’s case when he started taking tips from Steve, Will reasons to himself as he ditches his bike in the lawn and rings the doorbell, and Mike idolizes Eddie way more than he does Steve. 

The doorknob turns. Will’s heart leaps into his throat.

“Dude,” Mike says as he opens the door. “How many times does Steve have to tell us we don’t have to-” 

Will can feel the moment Mike registers his new appearance and just… stares. 

Now, Will’s no stranger to neither the idea nor the reality of being the object of Mike Wheeler’s attention. Less so in recent months, but. Beside the point. Mike looks at him the same dumbstruck expression he has whenever El does… anything. Not long ago, Will would have done things of dubious morality to get that gaze on him, but now he just shifts a little awkwardly, hyper-aware of the rips at his knees, the exposed tips of his ears, the remnants of eyeliner he didn’t manage to scrub off all the way. 

C’mon, Byers, say something, he mentally chides. What would Steve say? What would Eddie say? 

That final thought clicks in his head at the last second.

“I think a picture’ll last longer,” he blurts… and immediately blanches. What the hell was that? Real smooth, Will. Open mouth, insert foot.

But there’s a hoot of laughter from inside, and he glances up just in time to see Eddie give him a wink and a double thumbs-up from the entryway, so he figures it wasn’t as bad as he thinks. In fact, he sees Mike stifle a disbelieving laugh too, before he’s shoved out of the way by Dustin. 

“Dude! Holy shit-” 

Predictably, all hell breaks loose after that, but under their delighted interrogation, Will stops feeling like a stranger in his own skin again.

Chapter Text

iv.

Will is like, 95% sure Eddie and Steve have a thing for each other. Well, okay- correction. He's 100% sure Eddie has a thing for Steve. He's only 90% sure it goes the other way, and that last 10% is only because he's not entirely clear on whether Steve even likes guys.

They act like a couple already, is the thing. Eddie slings his legs into Steve's lap when they're on the couch, and Steve allows it, just passes his drink or beer or whatever they're sharing back over to him. They're tucked into each others' pockets just as much as Steve is with Robin, if not more ever since Robin started going steady with Vickie. 

It's like this: 

Eddie's band is performing at some bar in the next town over from Hawkins, up on stage getting set up to blow the little minds of these "small-town normies"- Eddie's words, not his. The Party's been able to bully their way inside, under the condition they stay sandwiched in a booth under Hopper's strict supervision. The stage runs perpendicular to the bar where Jonathan's sat, along with Nancy, Robin, and- of course- Steve. Robin's not 21 either, but for some reason she gets to sit up there. Whatever. (El also gets to sit up there, but she's with Hopper, and Will's pretty sure she doesn’t understand the concept of underage drinking anyway.) The other three are talking, but Steve is watching Eddie on the stage like he'll vanish if he looks away for even a second. As Will watches, Eddie catches Steve's gaze, and flashes a wink. 

Steve goes pink, and quickly busies himself with his drink. As Argyle might say, totally fascinating. 

Will thinks for a second- and a plan starts forming.

After a bit, Lucas and Mike pop up to talk with Eddie before Coffin's set starts, and Eleven putters after them with Hop's approval. Will seizes his chance, slides his soda aside and leans over the table to talk to Dustin under the rumble of noise filling the bar. "Can I ask you something?" he says. Play it cool, Will. Subtlety. Dustin nods, so he shuffles a little closer and asks, "Have you noticed, you know… Eddie and Steve? You know what I mean?"

Dustin scoffs. "You mean that they're always, like, inches from sticking their tongues down each others' throats? Yeah, I've noticed. It's gross, they're worse than your brother and Nancy." 

Will deflates in relief. Though Dustin's nose wrinkles as he says it, there's no venom in his words, least of all directed towards… the obvious issue. It seems to be more about his two… mentors? sucking face (or rather, wanting to) than the idea that they're both men. 

"I know, right?" Will blurts. "Whenever I'm hanging out with Eddie it's like, Steve this, Steve that, have you seen his freckles? Have you seen that thing he does when he runs his hands through his hair? Like, come on, man." 

Dustin cackles gleefully; Will can tell how purely happy he is to have someone to talk about this too. "I'm pretty sure they're the only ones that haven't noticed, actually. Steve fucking asks about him all the time," he adds, rolling his eyes. 

"So is he…?" Will trails off, gesturing slightly. Even now, he has a hard time saying it. (He's working on it.) Dustin screws up his face in thought. He pokes his straw into his Sprite a few times, gaze straying towards the older kids sitting at the bar. 

"He likes both," he finally says. He looks back at Will, daring him to say something. (The worry is reassuring, but hilariously misplaced.) "Robin helped him figure it out. Says the word's bisexual or something." 

Lucky, Will thinks. He's stuck with liking guys. And guys are gross. 

Out loud, he says, "I think they'd be good for each other."

"You think?"

"Yeah." 

Dustin hums his assent. "Think we should do something about it?" 

"Like… meddling in it?" Will screws up his face in thought, watching the stage. Coffin's blue-haired bassist, Kit- he's… a solid 55% sure she's a girl- shoots El a wink and pops her (their?) gum, and his sister flushes bright red. Mike doesn't seem to notice, but Eddie laughs, long and bright. Nobody on stage seems to mind.

His eyes trail, just for a second, to Mike, before flicking back away. 

"I'm in."

v.

It's not like Will is planning to come out to the Party. Right? Like, he doesn't wake up one morning and say to himself Today, I'm going to tell Lucas, Dustin, and Mike that I am a homosexual and hope for the best. Onward! There's no conscious choice involved, really.  

They're in Mike's basement, when it happens. It's one of the rare times these days it can just be the four of them, since Max and Eleven are both busy. Will loves the girls, don't get him wrong- he's over his hangups from the other summer- but the Party Proper has special "boy's night" rights. 

He's not even paying attention when it happens. He's trying to get their old tape player to accept Jonathan's newest mixtape, in fact, barely listening to whatever story Mike is telling. 

Then, for some reason, Lucas says, "Dude, that's so gay," and Will feels every muscle in his body go involuntarily rigid. 

Dustin is halfway through the motion of swatting Lucas in the back of the head when the cassette player hits the ground and bounces with a clatter. It is, miraculously, unscathed, but all three heads whip around to look at him with expressions varying from concern to confusion. 

"Dude," Mike says. "What the hell?"

Fuck. Shit. Crap. Dammit. "I- I- um." Will feels his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish out of water, but to his horror, he can't seem to force any sort of believable excuse out. The longer he stalls, he knows, the more suspicious they'll get. The more conclusions they'll draw, and the closer they'll get to the truth. 

Icy horror drips down his spine. He sees, as he looks up, the realization dawning on Dustin's face, and knows his cover is really, truly, properly blown. 

"Will? You good?" It's Lucas speaking, distantly, past the roaring in his ears. 

And it's like.

It's like, Will's been through some shit, right? It's a known fact. 3 years of pure hell and dealing with whatever it spits out haven't been kind, least of all to Will Byers. 

But honestly? He'd take a picnic in the Upside Down with a demogorgon over this. 

"It's- fine," he finds himself saying abruptly a few seconds too late. "I just. Uh." 

Belatedly, Dustin smacks Lucas' arm, making him yelp. "Don't say shit like that, dumbass."

"What!" Lucas protests. "It's just a saying, I heard Chance say it a couple times!"

Dustin, in reply, just gives him a withering look. For a second, Will thinks he's off the hook.

But then Mike looks at him, confused and concerned, with those big dark eyes Will always wanted to fall into when he was so far gone on him. Now, though, it just makes him acutely aware of how close to hyperventilating he is. "Will? Is everything okay?" 

There's plastic moving under his fingers- he realizes with a start he's fiddling with the necklace Eddie gave him, spinning it on its pin. It grounds him, forces him back into his body with a jolt. You're Will the fucking Wise, he can hear. You've faced down way worse than three teenage boys. 

He could say a lot of things, here. It would be easy. Three words, and then face the music. He opens his mouth, but they don't come out. 

He closes it again. 

Then, finally- 

"Not the only thing that's gay," he croaks. Oh God. 

Dustin sputters, bites his fist to keep from honking with laughter. Lucas stares in outright shock, which slowly shifts to horrified realization at what he'd said. Mike… just looks confused. Go figure. 

"Me," Will clarifies. "I mean me. I'm… gay. I like guys."

And there it is. Distantly, he realizes that's the first time he's said it- those exact words- out loud. 

Mike blinks, and goes, "Oh." 

Will swallows hard. Dustin, at least, looks triumphant. 

"I knew it!" he says, pointing at him. "You were way too chill about Eddie and Steve!" 

Will rears back a little, affronted. "You were cool about it too," he protests. 

"Yeah, 'cause it's Eddie and Steve." Dustin waves at him, like duh. Will thinks about that for a second, then shrugs his agreement. 

Lucas says, "Dude," and he sounds pained. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think- I wouldn't have-" He cuts off, wringing his hands together. "I just thought it was a dumb saying."

"It's, um." Will shifts again. "You didn't know. You couldn't have. I never…"

"No," Mike cuts in. There's an odd lilt to his voice, like he's realizing something. "You did. On the way to Utah." 

Will feels cold all over again, and his fingers go still on the d20. 

"You were talking about El. And feeling different," Mike continues, "But you weren't just talking about her, were you?"

"Mike," Dustin tries to interrupt, but he plows onward. 

"You tried to tell me then, in the middle of… everything. And then pretended it was… nothing? Why didn't you tell me when I didn't realize?"

Weakly, Will mutters, "I didn't really think me being a queer would help us defeat Vecna," and Dustin makes that choked, muffled honking noise again. "It's not my fault you're unobservant as hell."

Mike gapes, torn between indignation and shock as Dustin cracks, collapsing back onto the couch shaking with laughter. Even Lucas is stifling a smile. 

Will is… Well. Stunned. Not that he's complaining- he'll take this over getting tossed out of the house on his ass any day. But he expected… more, maybe. More questions, more need for reassurances of non-creeper-ship on his own end. But Mike's the only one who's reacting negatively, and it seems more directed inward even if it's manifesting outward. 

"You're not… mad or anything?" he asks. Dustin scoffs. 

"With the shit we've seen? Who you like is, like, the least of our concerns." 

Well… he's got a point there.

There's a few moments of probably the single most awkward silence of their very short lives. "Does anyone else know?" Lucas finally asks, likely with the sole purpose of breaking it. Will mentally thanks him. 

"Um- Jonathan. And Eddie," he replies. "I think maybe Robin, but-"

Mike throws his hands up. "Eddie knows?!" He sounds outraged at the very thought of it. 

Will can't help it- a laugh bubbles out of him and spills over. He feels abruptly bright, fizzy all over, like sunlight through a soda bottle. They're not mad he kept it a secret, they're not disgusted with him, they don't think he's a freak- it has, he knows, gone just about as well as it possibly could have. It's a sheer 180 from earlier, his heart in his throat and his breath stuck somewhere behind his ribs. So he can't help but laugh, leaning back against the shelf, hand pressed to his chest. 

His friends look at him like he's crazy, but eventually join in. It's a relief- one he didn't know he needed, but a relief nonetheless.

Will exhales, and from his shoulders feels a weight he's been trying to ignore for years lift.