Archive of Our Own ^beta

The basement smells like soda and old cardboard, like it always has.

Dice clatter across the table, sharp and final, and Mike Wheeler throws his hands up like he’s standing on a stage instead of behind a DM screen made from three battered binders and a stack of notebooks. His voice rises, theatrical, earnest, impossible to miss.

“And with one last, desperate swing—”

Dustin leans forward, elbows digging into the table. Lucas is already shaking his head like he knows how this ends but refuses to accept it. Will watches the dice roll, watches them slow, watches them stop.

They come up wrong.

Mike exhales hard. “—the blade misses.”

The groaning starts, immediately. 

“No way,” Dustin screams.

“That’s bullshit,” Lucas adds, already rifling through his character sheet like the numbers might change if he looks hard enough.

“You hear the chains first,”  Mike says, lowering his voice, eyes bright. “Then the gates slam shut. Acererak smiles at the sorcerer. Roll initiative.”

Will sighs and rolls, even as his attention drifts—again—to the clock mounted crookedly above the stairs. 

The campaign had been intense tonight. Mike was in his element, narrating every detail with that familiar fire. Ideally, Max and El were supposed to be there too. But Lucas never succeeded in convincing Max to play D&D—’too many rules, Sinclair’—and El never really cared about it in the first place. They were probably out doing some kind of girls’ day thing instead.

Secretly, though, Will knows El probably just wanted to give herself—and Mike—some distance since their recent breakup.

The summer after the year they saved the world brought too many surprises. One of them was El and Mike’s announcement, which they casually dropped one afternoon. The party still doesn't know the official reason, just that it was ‘a long time coming’.

Maybe Will should have seen that, if he wasn't paying so less attention to Mike this summer. After the final battle, things were very different. Life was better, without any upside down madness, but the actions they took to achieve it still lingered. They very nearly lost El to self-sacrifice. But the moment Will had overheard her plan with Kali, he knew he needed to do something to prevent it.

His last act of defiance, before he helped defeat Vecna, was a gift to his sister. It had been  difficult to use his connection to the hivemind on someone who wasn’t Henry. But he did it, finding El and desperately removing her tether from the upside down. He hadn’t known then that the action would make El lose her powers forever. But the guilt didn’t last long, because it was the thing that led to the Military finally leaving her alone. She was alive and well, which was all that mattered to them in the end. 

He isn’t sure if the loss was what led to the visible break in El and Mike’s relationship, in the months that followed. El told him that it wasn’t, that they hadn’t been on the same page since California.

Will doesn’t really know what that means, but if he was being honest, he doesn’t really care either. He just really made sure they both were okay, and they seemed to be. It was kind of refreshing, because for the first time, he was not stuck battling between caring for his sister and his love for Mike. He knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Mike will always be his first love. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, and the need to spend every waking moment with his best friend has subdued as well.

After all, this summer bought Will a surprise of his own.

He glances at the clock once again, thrice in a row. He’s usually very good at hiding his impatience, plus he does like the campaign, Mike did a great job planning it.

But it’s just that— he’s been waiting for the evening since this morning. It’s been too long since he last got some alone time with his boyfriend. He thinks of the note Chance had slipped into his locker before the first period. Tiny and with scrawled writing:

‘Hi baby, SR today @ 6pm? I miss you’. 

It was accompanied by a tiny heart doodle and a winky face, which made Will’s heart jump. If you had told Will from last-year that he would have found someone like him in Hawkins? He would have laughed in your face. Finding Robin here was a blessing enough, but this was different. Because he really liked Chance, and Will never thought he would experience this. But here he was, Junior year, and life had started like a fresh turn of a page since his coming out. He doesn’t think he has ever been so happy in his entire life. 

Mike clears his throat, forcing Will out of his thoughts. “So. You’ve been captured and thrown into the lower levels of the fortress. What's your next move?”

Will glances at the clock again. 

5:50.

The second hand ticks. And ticks. And ticks. 

He’s going to be late, it takes at least fifteen minutes to cycle to Skull Rock and the campaign is nowhere near done.

He makes the decision, pushing his chair back. “Actually— uh how about we take the day to strategize and continue tomorrow?”

Everyone looks at him and freezes.

Mike blinks. “What? Why?”

Will shrugs, already reaching for his jacket. “I just—uh, gotta leave now. You know how my mom gets.”

Lucas looks at him, sharp and curious, but Will doesn’t meet his eyes. He’s already stuffing his bag, heart thudding with something that feels a lot like anticipation.

“Uh…sure?” Dustin says. 

“But—but, you said she’s gotten chill recently, right? Maybe we can call her—?,” Mike adds as Will stuffs his notebook into his bag. “It’s not even six yet—”

“Sorry guys!” Will says, halfway up the stairs already. Then turning to his best friend: “It’s a great campaign, Mike. I can’t wait to finish it tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, we can—” Mike starts, but the basement is already creaking as it swings shut behind Will.

For a second, no one says anything. Distinctly, Mike knows he looks like a child, pouting at Will’s sudden absence. 

Mike looks at the empty staircase, then groans to the room. “That’s like… the third time this week.”

“Yeah. Where does he keep running off to?” Dustin questions.

“Who knows?” Lucas chirps. 

They start gathering their own stuff, and cleaning up the table. Lucas looks around the basement for his walkie. As his eyes roam around, his mind drifts, staring at Will's boom box from a few years ago. A funny thought arises. 

“Man,” He tilts his head, thoughtful. “It's like he’s taken Mike’s role from the summer of ’85.”

“Huh! What?” Mike scoffs, offended. 

Dustin snorts, “He’s right, you used to disappear like that all the time too.” 

Lucas hums, “At least Will’s not an asshole about it, though”

“I— okay yeah, sure” Mike complies, “But that was different.”

“Why?” Dustin raises an eyebrow. “Because it was you?”

Mike rolls his eyes hard. “No, because you guys actually knew where I was”

“What, making out with El? Yeah, we knew alright” Dustin teases. 

“Ugh— shut up” Mike groans, “Besides, it’s not like that’s what Will is doing right now.”

The moment the statement leaves Mike’s mouth, there is a pregnant pause. 

The thought hangs in the air. The three of them look at each other.

“Wait” Lucas says

“…No, Do you actually think—” Mike starts.

Dustin and Lucas just shrug, pushing Mike over the edge. He pushes the thought away immediately, in denial. Because, there’s no way. 

Right? 

-

Meanwhile, somewhere above them, a bike peels out into the evening, headed to the woods. Will pedals hard all the way to Skull Rock, lungs burning, jacket flapping behind him. He skids to a stop in the clearing and drops his bike in the grass, keys clinking as they slip from his fingers. There’s a smile already on his face—wide, stupid, impossible to hide. 

He walks up to the structure. But when he looks around— Nothing.

No figure leaning against the rocks. No shadow moving through the trees.

Will’s smile falters just a little.

He checks his watch, twisting his wrist. He checks the note, to make sure he read it right. 

He walks closer to Skull Rock, resting a hand against the cool stone, then tips his head back to stare at the sky. The stars are starting to come out, faint but steady. He lets out a slow breath, tells himself it’s fine. He can wait.

Still, quite confusion presses in, and a flicker of disappointment curls low in his stomach. Chance has never been late to meeting him before. In fact, he usually makes a big show of greeting Will if they have spent some time apart—

Suddenly, an arm hooks around his waist from nowhere and yanks him backward. Will stumbles into a warm body. 

Before he can yelp, a voice murmurs right against his ear, warm and smug: “Caught you, bunny.”

Will yelps—and then laughs, breathless and bright, as he’s spun around. “ Hey—!” he giggles, hands coming up instinctively. 

Chance doesn’t let go. He spins Will once more just for the hell of it, like Will weighs nothing to him. He is grinning wide and unapologetic, before Will squirms and half-laughs, half-whines. 

“Put me down,” Will says, trying and failing to sound serious. “Chancee—stopp.”

Chance finally does, but only enough to lean in, hands still firm at Will’s waist. He bends down just slightly and kisses Will—soft, sweet, unhurried, like he’s been thinking about it all day.

“Missed you so much” Chance murmurs against his lips.

Will’s hands curl into the front of Chance’s jacket, his smile returning full force, brighter than before.

“We saw each other, like, yesterday ” he says into Chance’s lips, knowing full well that’s not what Chance meant. He’s being difficult for the sake of it. 

“Glances across the hallway don’t count, Sweetheart” Chance pulls him under the rock, hands all over Will now. “You know that.” 

“Yeah” Will breathes, and then shuts him by pressing his lips forward again. 

It gets heated very quick, they are all but two teenage boys.The world narrows down to the press of Chance’s hands, the solid reassurance of him there, real and steady and choosing Will over and over again. Will used to not get it, when his friends talked about making out like it was the best thing in the world. It always sounded exaggerated, something out of the movies. 

Now, tucked into the curve of Skull Rock with Chance crowding close, Will gets it. He moans when Chance starts kissing his neck, always perfect the way Will needs. He could spend forever doing this with him.

Which is still a little funny, considering how wrong Will had been about him at first.

Resident jock. Vice-captain of the basketball team. Friends with Andy. To be honest, Will had assumed Chance Lawson would just be a bully. It seemed like the kind of role he’d fall into easily. But maybe Will should’ve known he’d be wrong—because even when the jocks verbally targeted Dustin, in their justifiable grief over Chrissy and Jason, Chance had always been the least involved. Looking uncomfortable when things went too far. Sometimes he’d even tried to pull people back, to cool things down before they went too far. Trying, awkwardly, to deescalate it. He was a bit powerless in the previous years, being a freshman like Will when Jason and Chrissy died. He changed when he became Vice Captain though. Thus, so did the Jocks when  Chance took the lead. Will knows that the town finally having answers helped though, finally something to bring the community back together. 

There had been a new wave of brightness over Hawkins once the military finally left, right alongside the earthquake damage. Names were cleared. The official story became a secret experiment gone wrong at Hawkins Lab—chemical exposure that led to the deaths and the split in the earth. Anyone exposed died brutally, like Chrissy had. That explanation finally cleared Eddie’s name, too. Fake evidence planted, paperwork rewritten, the narrative carefully stitched together to explain his death as similar to his supposed “victims.”

Will knows it was Dustin who pushed hardest for that during the negotiations with the military. 

The first hours after had been terrifying. They were interrogated individually, one by one, sitting alone in too-bright rooms, questions circling endlessly. Eventually, though, the military realized El’s powers were gone. No more connection to the Upside Down. No more human weapon. After that, their priority shifted fast—from containment to cover-up.

There was nothing they weren’t willing to give in exchange for silence, maybe afraid that Hopper would rat them out to his Russian contacts. They took full advantage before signing the NDAs: Fabricated stories. Immunity from any legal execution. Enough money to set them up for life.

Everything turned out okay in the end. Mostly.

The town was more relieved than apologetic. People just wanted to move forward, so the animosity toward the Hellfire Club faded, replaced by an uneasy sympathy, like they were victims too. The jocks never officially apologized to Dustin for their behaviour towards him, their pride too high to accept being wrong, but they did reach a silent agreement to never bother him again. Still, the social hierarchy at school remained—cracked, wavering, but not gone. Hawkins High was rebuilding itself the same way the town was: unevenly, carefully, pretending not much had changed.

Under Skull Rock, Chance’s forehead rests against Will’s, breath warm, steady. Somehow, in the middle of all that rebuilding, Will had found this.

It started with late-night walks in the hidden site near the Church. Will trying to burn off the leftover nerves that never really left his body, Chance trying to clear his guilt from his past actions, ones that wouldn’t go away even after exhausting hours of helping cleanup crews around town. The construction site sat just outside Hawkins, half-lit and half-forgotten, all torn-up asphalt and skeletal beams. It was quiet there in a way the rest of town wasn’t.

The first night, they just nodded at each other, respecting the other's space. The second, Chance asked if Will minded the company. The third, they were walking side by side like it had always been that way. Chance was funny, and so different from what Will would have thought. Will should have known that meant something, then. But he didn’t know a lot of things. Biggest case in point: he never thought Chance would be into men. Never thought he would be so into Will.

Summer stretched on, and they kept meeting. Every night felt a little easier than the last. Conversations got longer and more interesting. Chance talked about basketball and his sister and his love for The Cure. Will bounced when that happened, going on a rant of his own. Chance listened to him so intently, making Will blush. When Will tried to apologize for it, Chance stopped him, shyly confessing he thought it was cute, and Will’s brain short-circuited. Things changed after that: Their hands brushed sometimes—accidentally first, then on purpose—and each time it sent something sharp and electric straight through Will’s chest. Chance had a way of making Will feel light, he treated him with such care, but never acted like Will was fragile. Will thinks he really needed that after last November. 

The snowball didn’t even roll halfway downhill, before it became an avalanche.

By mid-summer, Will was sneaking out almost every night, bike tires silent on the road, heart pounding harder than it ever had fighting monsters. Making out with Chance under half-built walls and open sky, laughing into each other’s mouths, deep conversations about guilt and grief,  memorizing the feel of each other like it might disappear by morning. It was easy to hide during the summer, easier to start falling in love. 

But now, it was back to school season and the hundred social norms that came with it.

Things were calmer at Hawkins High, people softer around the edges, but not that calm. Zombie Boy and the Tiger’s Vice-Captain hanging out together would still raise eyebrows. The homophobia of it all was not even a question, they could never have that in this town. But, it annoyed Will that even “friends” felt like a stretch for them. Sometimes he just wanted to sit next to Chance in art class, listen to him ramble while Will sketched the curve of his hands in the margins of his sketchbook.

If only their friends actually got along.

“I hate stupid school sometimes,” Will says quietly. “We all almost died, but somehow the world would end if we just… exist next to each other.” His fingers trace a meaningless pattern on Chance’s sleeve, like he needs something to do with the feeling.

Chance huffs a laugh. “Yeah. God forbid Hawkins High sees us talking.”

 “I don’t know.” Will tilts his head up, a small smile pulling at his mouth. “It’s mostly the fault of your guys, baby.”

“What—” Chance gasps, offended on principle. “Why are you blaming this on me?” He scoops Will up without warning and immediately starts tickling him.

Will bursts out laughing, breathless and helpless. “It is! If only your friends would get off their high horse.”

“Oh, as if you nerds are any better,” Chance shoots back, still grinning. “You know damn well what your party would say if you showed up to one of my games.”

Will groans. “Ugh, yeah, I know. Kinda wish Lucas was still on the team so I had an excuse.”

“Hm,” Chance says thoughtfully. “I miss Sinclair. He was a good player.”

“Yeah,” Will agrees. “I think he misses playing too. Like, I know he loves D&D, but why can’t he do both, y’know?”

Chance doesn’t answer right away. He just leans in, kisses tracing along Will’s neck, slow and deliberate. “You’re too sweet,” he murmurs, sucking the spot there. “They don’t know what you do to me, bunny. If they felt what I did, they’d get it.”

Will shivers, a soft gasp slipping out, he tries to concentrate on the feeling — but Chance's words settle in his mind through the haze, turning around in a curious thought.

“I mean,” he says, pulling back gently, hands cupping his boyfriend’s face. “There’s gotta be others, right?”

Chance blinks at the sudden shift, but his hands slide up into Will’s hair instead, twirling the hair sweetly. “Others what?”

“Like us.”

“Uh,” Chance starts, careful, “if you’re asking whether more queer people exist in Hawkins—”

“Not that, dummy,” Will says, punching his arm lightly. Chance reacts like he’s been mortally wounded, clutching his side, which makes Will laugh. “I mean people who like each other but aren’t supposed to. Like—outside their clique.”

Chance hums, thinking. “I think Katie from cheerleading is into that dude from band. You know, the one with the trumpet?”

Will considers it. “Oh. Josh? He does stare at her a lot in math.”

“But he won’t ask her out,” Chance adds, “and she won’t ask him because of the whole… y’know.”

Will nods, “And it’s not just relationships, right?” He thinks for the names, “Marie N and Jennifer S used to be best friends in middle school, and now they don’t talk at all because Marie joined theatre.”

“That’s true," Chance agrees. 

Will says it slowly, like he’s testing the shape of it. “If everyone was just… talking to everyone, it wouldn’t be weird for us either.”

They go quiet, looking at each other under the rock, the idea hanging between them.

Chance’s smile is small, catching onto Will’s thought. “Maybe,” he adds carefully, “we just have to give everyone a…push.”

Will studies his face.The night feels softer after that, full of a sudden possibility. It’s far-fetched, probably won’t even work. “Yes, but it’s crazy. How would we even pull it off?”

Chance shrugs, smiling. “I don’t know, do we make a plan? Or at least… try.”

Will doesn’t answer, Chance doesn’t ask because Will has his thinking face on. There’s calm for a few moments, so he just breathes in the presence, playing with Will’s fingers.

His boyfriend must decide something then, because he grabs Chance’s hand and tugs him toward the path leading out of the woods.

“Will—what—” Chance stumbles, as he’s dragged along.

“Your house is free today, right?” Will asks over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Great. We need somewhere more private to…plan.” He looks up into Chance’s eyes and walks backwards innocently. 

“To plan, huh?” Chance flirts back, mesmerized by Will. 

Will laughs, breathless now, squeezing Chance’s hand to break into a run again.

“Okay, okay!” his boyfriend follows him. 

They disappear down the trail together, neither of them knowing just how well that plan was about to work—and the chaos in Hawkins High it would cause. 

Phase One: The Game 

Will walks into the hallway Monday morning like he always does, backpack slung over one shoulder, head already half in the day. There is something off with Mike, he’s been hovering near Will for a while.

Right now, he is leaning against Will’s locker like he belongs there, which he does, but also like he’s been waiting. 

Will slows without meaning to.

The weekend had been like this too. Mike asked, casually at first, where Will went Friday night. The truth was that he hadn’t come home until Saturday morning, but Mike didn’t need to know that. So, Will had dodged the question well enough—and Mike hadn’t pushed. They’d finished the campaign, eaten too much junk food, and stayed up late like always.

Except Mike kept looking at him. Like Will might stand up mid-sentence and disappear.

Will hadn’t. He’d stayed, of course. Because despite loving his time with Chance, Will had missed this as well—missed the sound of dice on the table, Dustin getting distracted, Mike arguing over rules that didn’t matter. Weekend afternoons were for D&D and the party. 

Nighttime, though, was different. Nighttime was a free game.

He’s pretty sure Jonathan knows he sneaks out. Jonathan hasn’t said anything, because Will always makes it back before morning, and that feels like some kind of unspoken agreement. Mom definitely doesn’t know. For once, Will is happy she is busy re-kindling her relationship with Hopper. They will probably merge homes soon, with Jane coming to live here. It reminds Will of Lenora, and the chaos of it led to his mom’s questions thinning in amount. After WSQK, she had too many, trying to be supportive but ending up as nosy. If she knew about Chance, they would be back and he needs some time before handing out answers. Jonathan probably suspects something is up, but not what it is. If he knew Will was dating someone? Yeah. That would come with a talk that Will does not want to have with his brother.

But the party doesn’t suspect anything yet. None of them do.

Which is why it’s weird when Mike says, casually but not really, “You know you can tell me if something’s going on with you, right?”

There it is.

Will feels the flicker of guilt, sharp and quick, like touching something hot and pulling back. He keeps his face neutral, though. He’s thought about this. About when to say something. He doesn’t want to lie forever. He just—he wants his family’s reactions to be positive first. And he knows how Mike feels about Jocks, he would totally blow up over Will’s choice of partner and some form of unearned jealousy over Will. He hopes to change some minds before he’s able to share this with the party.

“I know,” Will says. “I just… don’t really have anything to tell yet.”

Mike frowns, not angry. Confused. “Yet?”

Will closes his locker and turns to him, offering a small, almost careless smile. “Yeah. Yet.”

Mike studies him for another second, then sighs. “Okay. Just—you’ll tell me if it’s something big for you, right?”

“Ofcourse,” Will says. He will in the future, so technically it’s not a lie.

The bell rings. The hallway shifts around them, people moving again, noise rushing back in. Mike steps away from the locker, already half turning toward class.

Will watches him go, thinking: Please let this work.

-

Lucas and Will are alone at recess when Will decides to put it in motion. He brings it up casually, in a way that's pretending something doesn’t matter.

They’re sitting on the grass behind the school after lunch, legs stretched out, watching a loose circle of kids pass a basketball around near the outdoor court. Someone misses a shot. Someone else laughs, Lucas looks at it with some intensity.

“Do you miss playing?” Will asks, eyes still on the ball as it arcs badly toward the hoop.

Lucas shrugs. “I guess. But if it came down to choosing between that and you guys… I don’t regret it. Not after how some of those people treated Max.”

Will hums, thinking. He pictures Max rolling her eyes at him, arms crossed, saying something blunt but fair. “I think Max would get it if you wanted to play again,” he says finally. “From their perspective, it looked like… grief. Like someone killed their captain and his girlfriend. I don’t think it was all just cruelty.”

Lucas is quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he admits. “We never really thought about it like that.”

“Are the basketball tryouts soon?” Will asks.

“Next week.”

Will turns to him then, more seriously. “I think you should go. The whole point is that we get to live now, right? What’s the point if we don’t do the things we actually want?”

As he says it, Will thinks of El—of how she is just coming into herself. Trying all sorts of new clothes, music and hobbies. She’s finally getting to be just a girl, hanging out with friends and suffering in high school. Will is so happy for her. 

Lucas smiles, small but real. “You’re right, man.”

Tryouts come and go quickly. Lucas makes the team like it was inevitable. He’s good—everyone knows that. Mike and Dustin pretend not to care, and Max looks proud in that quiet way of hers.

_

The plan, if one can even call it that, starts to tighten around the edges.

The first basketball game of the season feels like a big deal even before they step inside the gym. The place smells like varnish and sweat and old banners. The bleachers are packed, the floor gleaming under the lights like it’s been freshly polished just for tonight.

Will convinces all of the Party to attend because Lucas is playing. They agree, but Dustin and Mike do complain in private.

“We could be doing D&D tonight,” Dustin says, craning his neck to look at the crowd. “We just got to a good stopping point too.”

“We will,” Will says. “After.”

Mike frowns. “You said that last time.”

“And you did, literally” El replies, quick, like she knew he would say that. 

Max snorts. “Wow, Mike. It’s almost like you can leave your basement and still survive.”

Lucas, already halfway onto the court, glances up and spots them. His face lights up when he sees the whole party there. Max thinks it makes all of it worth it. He gives a quick wave, a little awkward, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to be this excited.

Dustin sighs. “Fine. I’m only here so Lucas doesn’t think we hate him.”

“We don’t hate you!” Will calls down before he can stop himself.

Lucas laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, yeah. Just cheer when I don’t screw up.”

Mike watches him jog back into place, then looks at Will. “We’re still playing tomorrow?”

Will smiles, easy. “Promise.”

The team enters the center of the court with enthusiasm. The crowd roars. Lucas takes his position, focused and steady, like he’s always belonged there.

Will tries to focus on him. He really does. But his eyes keep finding Chance—warm-ups thrown over his shoulder, jaw set, focused. When Chance looks up and catches Will staring, Will gives him a small grin.

Chance grins back, looks around to make sure no one is watching him, and then winks at Will.

The first half goes well. Really well. Lucas plays like he’s been waiting for this. Halftime comes faster than Will expects.

The buzzer cuts through the gym and everyone exhales at once. People stand, stretch, shuffle along the bleachers. The noise doesn’t die down so much as change shape.

Andy jogs back onto the court with the rest of the team, towel slung over his shoulder. Someone hands him a mic—probably the coach, probably planned—and there’s a ripple of curiosity through the crowd.

The captain clears his throat, awkward already. “Uh. Hey. Hi.”

A few people laugh. He smiles, small but real.

“Just—before the cheer performance, I wanted to say something.” He gestures around the gym. “It’s… good to see this many people here. For the team. For the school.”

His voice dips for a second, then steadies. “This year’s been rough. For all of us. We lost people. We lost… a lot. And I think sometimes we forget that we’re still here. Together.”

The gym quiets. Not heavy. Just listening.

“So, yeah,” Andy continues, shifting his weight. “Melissa and her team have worked really hard on this routine. It’s not a usual one. It’s meant to honor the people we lost. Everything that happened—because of what the Lab did to this town.” He swallows. “I hope you’ll support them.”

The applause comes warm and easy, rolling through the bleachers. Andy hands the mic back and jogs off as the cheer squad starts lining up.

Melissa is Andy’s girlfriend. If the rumors are true, they only started dating last year, but the change in Andy was obvious the moment they did. Chance once told Will it was because Andy finally let go of all that useless anger—aimed at the wrong people after Jason’s death. Melissa was probably the only one that understood him, what he felt during that time too well.  She’d lost Chrissy too afterall, her best friend.

So it’s not a surprise when Chrissy’s favorite song starts playing through the speakers.

Melissa finds her mark near center court. She catches Andy’s eye from across the gym and gives him a quick, confident smile.

The music kicks in—clear and bright.

Will settles back against the bleachers, watching the routine begin as the gym starts buzzing again, lighter somehow, like the night still has room to surprise them.

But Will already knows what’s coming.

He swallows, hands curling into the hem of his jacket, and sends a quick, quiet apology into the universe. And to Melissa. He really wishes they will forgive him and Chance if they ever find out, ruining the vibe is for the greater good. 

The music cuts out halfway through a lift.

Not a clean stop—more like a choking stutter before everything drops into confused silence. Sneakers squeak. Pom-poms freeze mid-air. Melissa lands and stills, eyes flicking toward the sound table. A ripple of “oh my god” runs through the bleachers.

Andy’s already halfway off the bench, panic written all over his face as he looks toward the mess of wires near the speakers.

Will doesn’t look for Chance. He knows exactly where he is, already done with his part on the other end of this.

Now, it’s Will’s turn.

He turns sharply to Dustin. “You should go fix it.”

Dustin blinks at him. “What—are you insane? Why me?”

Will leans closer, voice low but urgent. “Because you’re the only person in this gym who actually knows how to work this stuff.”

Dustin opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it, glancing toward the court. The cheer team is still frozen. People are starting to whisper.

“It’s for Lucas,” Will adds quietly. “If this turns into a disaster, no one’s going to remember how well he played. They’re going to remember this as some bad omen.”

That gets him.

Dustin exhales hard, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. Then, louder: “Fine. For Lucas.”

He vaults down the bleachers and jogs toward the sound table, dropping to his knees like it’s second nature. Wires are yanked free, plugged back in, adjusted. Andy tries to help; Dustin tells him to hold the cable steady.

The gym holds its breath.

Then—music.

It blasts back in, right where it left off. The cheer squad recovers instantly, Melissa snapping back into motion like nothing ever happened. The routine finishes strong, sharp and emotional, and when it ends, the applause is louder than before, almost relieved.

Andy jogs straight over to Dustin the second the buzzer sounds and pulls him into a hug without even thinking.

“Give it up for Dustin, everybody!” Andy shouts into the mic.

The gym erupts.

Dustin turns bright red, laughing awkwardly as he tries to peel himself free. “Okay, okay— yeah—whatever,” he says, waving it off, but he’s grinning anyway.

Across the court, Chance meets Will’s eyes. They smile at each other.

Mission successful.

-

The game ends on a high—buzzer blaring, scoreboard glowing, the crowd on its feet. Hawkins High actually feels loud in a good way. People are cheering, laughing, spilling out of the bleachers instead of rushing for the exits.

Everyone starts mingling like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The party all huddles towards Lucas, giving him encouraging pats and he looks on top of the moon. 

Sometime after, Dustin barely steps a bit off the court and Andy stops in front of him, still breathless, sweat-soaked, riding the adrenaline of the win.

“Hey,” Andy says.

Dustin slows. “Hey,” he answers, cautious without meaning to be.

Andy just laughs. Shakes his head like he can’t believe this is real. “I still can’t believe you fixed that. I would’ve panicked and unplugged everything.”

Dustin snorts before he can stop himself. “Yeah, well. That would’ve made it worse.”

Andy grins. “Fair.”

They stand there for a second— a bit of tension and weirdness in the air. Then Andy nudges him with his shoulder, easy and familiar, like it’s always been that way. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

Dustin blinks. “Uh. Yeah. Anytime.”

A few feet away, the Party is openly staring.

Max’s eyebrows are somewhere near her hairline. Lucas looks impressed. Will feels something warm bloom in his chest.

Andy watches him for a beat, he looks behind him as if asking for some permission. Across the court, Chance looks up and gives Andy a slight nod.

He gulps and turns back to Dustin, “Man —uh, could I talk to you maybe? in private?”

Dustin freezes, instinct telling him to run. But his curiosity takes over him.  “Uh. Yeah. Sure?”

They head off toward a quieter corner of the gym, and the Party collectively leans in the direction they went.

“…What,” Max says.

“That was not on my bingo card,” Lucas mutters.

The night keeps rolling. People are laughing. El is having an absurdly good time, spinning Max around to the music, cheeks flushed. Even Mike loosens a little, though his eyes keep drifting back to Will like he’s trying to solve something without all the pieces.

Somehow El ends up near the cheerleaders, completely absorbed in a conversation about makeup, eyes wide as she studies brushes and palettes like they’re rare artifacts. At first, the cheerleaders glance like they’re not sure what to make of her. Although it wasn’t common knowledge, some people knew she was the infamous Jane Hopper that the military was pursuing. They tried their best to get her name cleared alongside Eddie, ‘false alarm’ the official story read. It was a weak excuse, but between outrage at the lab and Chief Jim Hopper coming back from the dead, the town was already deep into chaos to care. Now, the mood of the gym must have softened everyone, because the hesitation fades and they start answering her questions with real enthusiasm, discussing how to do colourful makeup styles, laughing about how hard it was at first.

Max drifts over without a second thought, backing El up, adding comments like she’s always been part of this circle. Lucas follows her, hands in his jacket pockets, curious and relaxed. Will trails after them, half on instinct, half because he wants to be close enough in case things turn weird.

They don’t.

A couple of players wander over, drawn in by the intriguing mix of the crowd. And then Chance joins them too, easy and unforced, like this is exactly where he’s meant to be. Will has to physically stop himself from drifting towards him once he is near enough to touch.

One of the cheerleaders jokes about how holding the brush steady is harder than it looks, compares it to trying to make a painting. El’s face lights up at that.

“Maybe Will can help me,” she suggests brightly.

Will freezes for half a second, suddenly very aware of the jocks nearby, of how this could turn into being called a slur again. He opens his mouth, unsure—

Chance beats him to it, because of course he does. 

“Yeah,” he says easily, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Byers always has the best paintings in Mr. Leo’s art class.”

Taking that as a lead, the other jocks give a few impressed nods instead of snickers. Someone asks what he paints. Another cheerleader says that’s actually really cool. The conversation keeps moving, light and unguarded, drifting from art to school to nothing important at all.

Will lets himself breathe. For once, he doesn’t feel like he has to choose where to stand. He looks at his boyfriend and smiles.

When Dustin finally comes back, everyone immediately separates from the group and  descends on him at once.

“Well?” Lucas asks.

“What happened?” Max presses.

Dustin scratches the back of his neck. “Uh. He apologized.”

Silence.

“…For what,” Mike asks carefully.

“For Eddie,” Dustin says. “And, like. For being a jerk. For all of it. He was—” He stops, shakes his head. “He was really sincere about it. It was kind of insane.”

“Whoa,” Lucas mutters.

Max smirks. “Did we just witness growth?”

“Yeah, but it was terrifying,” Dustin agrees.

Will watches it all, heart buzzing, and says lightly, “Isn’t it kind of nice? Everyone actually getting along?”

Mike hums, noncommittal. “I dunno.” He looks around the gym, unsettled in a way he doesn’t quite have words for. “It’s just… weird.”

Will rolls his eyes but gets it. He kind of expected this, because Mike hates change. Always has. But tonight isn’t the night to poke at that.

So Will just smiles and lets the moment sit—bright, messy, possible—like something new has cracked open, and for once, nobody’s trying to shove it shut.

-

Later, when everyone has safely biked back to their homes, Will finds himself tucked away against Chance’s car under a darkening sky, deep enough in the woods that everything is private and safe again. The night is holding its breath just for them.

Chance kisses him slowly this time, like he’s not in any rush at all—hands warm and steady at Will’s waist, grounding him back into his body. Will blinks, then melts softly, pressing his forehead to Chance’s.

His eyes wander for a moment before drifting back to the car. There are flowers on the dashboard. Unmistakable even in the low light, bright in Will’s favorite shade of yellow.

“Wait,” Will says, already grinning. “Is that—”

Chance follows his gaze and blushes. “Yeah.”

Then, in a move that’s so dramatic but so Chance, he drops to his knees, holding the flowers out like he’s presenting a wedding ring instead of a slightly crumpled bouquet. “For my little mastermind,” he says solemnly.

Will doesn’t even try to play it cool. He laughs, full and unguarded, face warming as he covers it with his hands. “You’re so stupid,” he says fondly, reaching for the flowers anyway.

He leans in, smells them, grin stretching wide, and then grabs Chance’s hand and all but drags him toward the backseat. Chance laughs, fumbling to get in, long legs tangling awkwardly as Will clambers in after him. A minute later there’s some soft, crackly song playing on the radio, and Chance is making Will laugh by blowing raspberries against his skin until Will can’t breathe.

They settle like that—cuddled close, limbs everywhere—and Will feels warm all over.

They talk about everything at once. How loud the gym was. How El somehow made friends with the cheerleaders. How Lucas played like he never left the court. Will keeps shaking his head, smiling to himself.

“It was amazing,” he says finally. “I still can’t believe we pulled that off. Andy actually apologized to Dustin. How did you even convince him?”

Chance exhales, hands tightening briefly around Will before he lets go. “No idea,” he admits. “I was terrified. I kept waiting for it to blow up in my face.”

“But it didn’t,” Will says softly.

They end up humming the tune to a song in silence. Chance leans over and steals another kiss, gentler than before.

“So,” he murmurs, smiling against Will’s lips, “what’s phase two, bunny?”

But Will is kind of over this conversation now. He flips around and strandles Chance’s lap instead, pulling on his belt buckle to make him shut up. 

It works, everything else can wait till later.

Phase Two: The Fundraiser

Truth be told, Will doesn’t really know where things go from here either. The plan worked, sort of, cause no one hates them anymore, but they are not in everyone-being-friends territory either.

The air around school feels… different now.

Nothing is magically fixed, but lighter in a way Will notices in the gaps between things—hallways that don’t crackle with tension, lunch tables where no one’s glaring across invisible borders, conversations that don’t stop dead when the “wrong” person walks by. The year already feels different, but it’s tentative. They’re all standing on the edge of something new, not sure how far they’re allowed to lean into it.

Turns out, it crashes into them instead. Because, inevitably, the school ruins everything like they usually do.  

It happens on a Friday morning, announced over the intercom in Principal Higgins’ clipped, self-satisfied voice. Principal Higgins bans all after-school clubs and non-sports extracurricular gatherings until further notice.

The official reason is to “cut unnecessary admin costs” for rebuilding the town. But they all know what it’s actually about. It is about what Higgins always preaches: “order” and “focus” and “maintaining school standards.” By the time the announcement ends, the damage is already done.

No Hellfire, or art club or band rehearsals or theatre meetings. Just sports—because of course sports are “school-sanctioned morale.” But even those are met with a strict schedule and lack of pep-rallys. It makes even the jocks unhappy.

The backlash is immediate. Whispers in hallways. Notes passed in class. Kids from completely different circles are suddenly angry about the same thing.

By lunch, the cafeteria is louder than usual, but not in a fun way.

It’s all sharp edges—chairs scraping, voices pitched low but urgent. Will sits with the Party like always, their table tucked near the windows, but none of them are really eating. Lucas is half-turned in his seat, listening to a table behind them. Dustin is already halfway through being mad out loud.

“This is so stupid,” Dustin says. “You can’t just ban half the school and expect people to be normal about it.”

“Do they even care?” Max mutters, sitting beside El. “They didn’t even spare the popular crowd”

Across the room, it’s happening everywhere.

Theatre kids are hunched together, scripts spread out like evidence. Band kids are gesturing with straws like batons. A cheerleader is standing on a chair at her table, whisper-yelling. A group of jocks nearby look unusually invested, heads close, voices tight.

The anger travels faster than gossip ever did.

“They called it nonessential,” Mike says, incredulous. “Like—what does that even mean?”

“It means Higgins is an asshole,” Lucas shouts. "Sucking the joy out of our lives!”

Something happens for the first time then, Nick Coleman, another Hawkins High’s starboy walks up to the Hellfire table and agrees with Lucas. “Literally, man”.

It must trigger something in the environment, because it causes the whole cafeteria to blend as well. People turn their chairs towards the centre when one brave soul loudly says:  

“We should just fucking continue anyway.” It’s from the theatre table.

“What, are you stupid?” someone from the cheerleading squad snaps back. “They’ll suspend us.”

“Well,” another timid voice says, louder, bolder, “they can’t suspend the whole school.”

A pause. It’s the quiet kid that shifted to Hawkins just a month ago, god knows why. Will is sure he has never seen him speak before 

“…Dude.”

A band kid groans. “It doesn’t matter. They cut the funding too. No equipment, no trips, no supplies. We can’t continue without it.”

“So what,” Lucy, one of Will’s partners in Art class says, eyes bright with fury. “We just let them kill it?”

“We need to protest,” Max says.

“Zombie Girl is right,” a jock adds, shrugging off the glare that the party gives at the nickname. “We need to make it public. Make it embarrassing for them.”

That’s when it clicks.

If Hawkins High is good at one thing, it’s accidentally uniting people against a common enemy. The puzzle pieces are snapping together in Will's mind now. 

‘This is it, we just need a push!’ He thinks, eyes already searching through the crowd for warm brown ones. 

He looks up—down the length of the cafeteria—and catches Chance across the room, leaning against the far wall near the exit. He’s people watching too— tracking the way tables are turning inward, voices syncing.

He looks up and their eyes meet. 

Chance’s eyebrows lift.

Are you hearing this too?

Will nods.

Chance grins.

And then, before Will can process what’s happening, Chance climbs onto the nearest cafeteria table, commanding the room with his signature confidence. “Guys! Guys!”

Andy yells, “Dude—” but doesn't continue when he sees the room has gone quiet on instinct.

Chance claps his hands once, sharp and loud. “Okay! Hey, everyone—listen up for like, two seconds, yeah?”

Seventy heads turn.

“This,” Chance says, gesturing vaguely around him, “is what they want. Us pissed, but separate. Drama kids mad over here, band kids mad over there, the athletes too! We are all on the same boat right now—”

“But here’s the thing,” Chance continues, voice steady now. “They didn’t just ban clubs. They banned the community. We went to hell and back these past years, and for what! They think we’ll all just shut up and deal with this bullshit quietly?”

He looks around, eyes catching on Will’s table for half a second—grounding himself—then back to the room.

“Are we just going to let them do that?” he shouts. 

“NO! WE WON’T!” The cheerleaders and Jocks call back, and some others join in.

Chance continues: “They can suspend a few of us. They can cut funding. They can send out all the scary memos they want.”

He spreads his hands.

“But they can’t stop us if we fight together.”

The cafeteria hums. Not noise—energy.

A theatre kid calls out, “So what, we just riot?”

Chance frowns immediately, suddenly unsure. The mask slips in a very endearing way, but shit, they can’t let this be where the plan falls apart.

Before Will can overthink it, he leans in loudly: “No,”

The party’s heads are swerving at him like he’s crazy. He continues: “We play smarter than Higgins. We do something that they can’t paint as bad behaviour again”. 

A murmur of agreement carries into the crowd. It’s a girl from the Debate Club that suggests the idea: 

“How about a fundraising event?” She says, popping a bubblegum between her lips “We put on shows, concerts, art sales? The money goes back to the clubs.” 

More murmurs, too many voices at once. 

Andy laughs from his table “Dude, yeah! We can do car washes— the chicks will totally dig that.” 

Melissa glares at him for that. 

Josh from the band, although nervous, pipes up: “It could work, we make it look like charity, shows how badly we need it back.”

Katie stands and agrees “Plus, they can’t ban charity.” They look at each other and blush suddenly, heads turning back.

Chance grins. “Exactly.”

Will feels it then—the shift. Like the air itself changes direction.

Around him, the Party is staring too, wide-eyed.

“Is this really happening?” Dustin whispers.

Across the cafeteria, people are already standing. Tables bleeding into each other. Circles collapsing into something bigger, as the plans start to be made.

“So are we helping as well?” El questions, a bit confused on what just happened.  

Will looks around, excited. “Hell yeah, we are!” 

-

The following weekend feels like a fever dream. Because they all decided on Monday for their big event, time is limited. It shows in the way that progress is being made. Everyone really went big for this, the fundraiser ground is always full of bodies, busy and bustling in preparation. It’s a scene you would never expect to see in the Hellscape town of Hawkins.

Theatre kids choreographing routines alongside the cheerleaders. A band kid is arguing with a DJ about tempo while a jock holds a speaker cord like it’s delicate. Nerds are huddled with kids Will’s never seen them talk to before, debating raffle pricing and logistics like it’s life or death.

People who have never worked together are suddenly locked in heated arguments over color schemes and playlist orders.

They have successfully advertised it everywhere, even roping in the richer households and their families to visit tonight. Will ends up heading the art side of things without even realizing how it happened— He’s just the one people keep coming to with questions. He’s the one deciding where the big banners hang, what colors won’t clash under the lights, how to make everything look like it belongs together. Posters multiply under his direction and decorations pile up. By late afternoon, there are painted signs drying everywhere—propped against walls, laid across picnic tables, balanced on car hoods.

Right now, Will is flat on his back on a tarp spread across the grass, surrounded by paint and brushes and almost-finished art pieces for sale. A few art students and the Party sit with him—Dustin and Mike cross-legged with markers they definitely shouldn’t be trusted with, Max painting sharp, clean lettering, Lucas holding down the corner of a banner so it doesn’t fold over on itself. El is carefully dabbing stars into the background, tongue caught between her teeth in concentration. 

Will’s hands are stained every color imaginable. So are his sleeves.

From his peripheral, he sees Chance drop down beside him without ceremony, legs stretched out, leaning back on his hands. He passes a napkin for Will to clean his hands off on. Will smiles as he accepts it, and for a while Chance just stays with the mismatched group: His friends and his secret boyfriend, not even a few meters away. Who would have thought? 

He glances at what Will is painting—around them the banners are drying, the clusters of people arguing over tape and glitter, someone shouting about running out of blue paint. “This is insane,” he says quietly. “How did you manage this in two days?”

Will bites back a smile, turning his head just enough to look at him. “I’m full of surprises, Lawson.”

Last summer, the Party would’ve lost their minds at the interaction, looking at Will like he’s crazy. Right now—no one reacts. Chance makes small talk about the event, doesn’t interrupt, but still stays.

Will loves it. It’s fun and easy, because they are just existing. Exactly like Will wanted a few weeks ago, and now he has it. They can’t be in love like Lucas and Max here, but they can be friends—knees bumping, laughing when Lucas drips paint where he absolutely shouldn’t.

“Babe,” Max says flatly, not looking up, “that was the white space.”

“It’s texture,” Lucas argues. “Art is subjective.”

Mike snorts. Lucy, helping out with Will’s art pieces, looks at Mike and grins. She’s been like that the whole day, so clearly interested in Mike, trying to make some sort of small talk. But, Mike always just seems awkward, trying to get out of it. Will raises his eyebrows at Mike, as if to say: dude, what are you doing?

Mike just shrugs, a pained look on his face when Lucy keeps trying to flirt with him. Will wants to burst out laughing. It’s even more funny, because Mike’s ex-girlfriend is beside them, but she seems to not care at all, too engrossed in the craft paper in front of her. 

El tilts her head, examining the stars she’s painted. “Will,” she says, thoughtful, “art is like… thinking with your hands.”

Will blinks. “Yeah,” he says, used to her random thoughts now. “It kind of is.”

Lucas nods. “It’s strategy, too. You gotta plan it or it falls apart.”

Chance perks up. “See, that I get.”

Dustin squints at him. “Oh no.”

“What?” Chance asks, amused.

“You’re gonna turn this into a sports metaphor somehow.”

Chance laughs. “Yeah but, I mean—strategy, teamwork, planning ahead. That’s basically half of what you guys do too , right?”

Max glances at Chance, surprised. “Did you just reference D&D?”

“Yeah?” Chance says. The rest of the party just stares at him, “What? I know some things!”

Lucas raises his eyebrows,  “Literally how? I’ve never talked about it with the team.”

Will feels his heart trip, just a little. Shit. 

If Chance feels as panicked, he doesn’t let it show. Instead he just tilts his head and goes: “Maybe I’m full of surprises too”. 

There’s a beat.

“Yeah” Will says, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Like secretly belting Madonna, right?” 

Chance looks mock-offended, clutching his chest. “I do not!”

“Oh, that’s weird” Will says, “Because I totally caught you singing Holiday in the Gym once” 

“Lies! You should be sued for defamation, Byers” Chance sighs, but the tone is light and teasing.

They fall into an easy rhythm of banter, and Chance smiles back—softer this time, a look meant only for Will—and doesn’t look away.

They don’t notice that, across the room, Mike is looking at Will. He stares, gaze sharp and calculating. He’s seen that look on Will’s face before—usually in the basement, usually directed at him. He feels a slow sort of jealousy gather in his stomach, and tries to rationalize it.

The way Will’s shoulders are relaxed, they are never like that around Jocks. He shakes his head as if to dissipate the thought, but the seed of doubt is planted.

-

By the end of the day, it’s undeniable: the fundraiser worked.

 Art pieces sell faster than Will can keep track of, people arguing over who gets which painting. Theatre kids rotate through short performances, dramatic monologues bleeding into dance numbers the cheer team jumps into without missing a beat. The car wash line stretches down the block, half naked basketball players manning hoses while band kids shout directions and laugh when someone gets soaked in an accident.

Speeches happen, too—imperfect and unscripted. Kids step up and talk about what the clubs meant to them, about having a place to belong. Someone starts a petition, then another, then suddenly there’s a clipboard everywhere you turn. By sunset, half the school had signed. It feels like Hawkins High is holding its breath together, daring the administration to ignore them.

Chance and Will don’t stick together the whole time, but they catch each other in passing—shared looks, quick smiles, a hand brushing another before slipping away again. 

When things finally slow down, Will ends up back with the Party, sprawled on the grass, playing some half-invented game Dustin insists on. Everyone’s laughing. No one’s watching the clock.

For once, it feels like things have succeeded.

-

By the time they start filing out, the fundraiser has left everyone pleasantly wrecked—ears ringing, fingers stained with paint, voices hoarse from cheering. The Party sticks together in a loose knot, drifting toward the exit.

“Wait,” Will says suddenly. “I need to put my art stuff back.”

Dustin groans. “Dude, my feet are killing me”

“It will take like five minutes,” Will insists, already turning around.

They all follow anyway. Of course they do.

The art room is quieter now, echoing in a way it hadn’t been all day. Posters lean against the walls, half-peeled tape still clinging to the edges. Will kneels by one of the tables, shoving brushes back into jars, stacking sketchbooks—

—and then it happens.

A folded piece of paper slips free from his personal sketchbook and flutters to the floor. El is the closest, so she’s already bending to pick the note up. 

Will’s stomach drops. Shit no, that’s gotta be something Chance put there. Oh no. 

“Leave it, El—” he says, lunging—

—but El is faster. She picks up the note casually, flipping it to where it fell open. She reads it, and immediately turns red, looking at Will with wide eyes. 

“Oh my god, Will?” that catches everyone’s attention. And suddenly Max is snatching it out of El's hands. 

God, what did Chance write on it? He is going to absolutely combust.

“Ooooh,” she sings, snatching it up and hopping back. “Waitttt—what’s this?”

“Max,” Will says, panicked. “Give it back.”

El stands there, still shocked. Will chases Max now, who is already running away, unfolding the note.

Will actually reaches for it this time, fingers brushing air. “Max, seriously—”

She reads, eyes widening.

“‘You were absolutely amazing today, baby,’” Max reads aloud, surprised like she can’t stop. “‘Really hot when you get bossy like that.’”

Silence. Dustin and Lucas crowd in, wanting to see it for themselves. Mike freezes, more tense than possible.

Then—

Lucas’s jaw drops. “baby?”

“Dude! Dude,” Dustin blurts. “You’ve been holding out on us?”

El’s eyes flick back to Will, thoughtful but sharp now. “Will.”

Mike doesn’t say anything. He just stares at the note, then at Will, expression tightening like something’s been pulled too fast.

Will’s face is on fire. “That’s not— I mean, it is, but ugh—” He makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine and stands abruptly. “Can we not do this here?”

“Oh no,” Max says. “We’re absolutely doing this here and now.”

“Since when?” Dustin presses. “Who is it? Is it someone we know?”

“It’s gotta be someone from school, right? Since the note says—” Lucas asks.

Will stands up, snatching the note from her. He backs toward the door, heart hammering. He hadn’t planned this. He hadn’t anticipated any of this. It’s not even really about who he’s dating anymore—it’s about suddenly being seen, having something bright and fragile dragged into the open. Because, yeah he can admit it now. Somewhere in the middle, he got comfortable with hiding. It’s not just because of Chance. It is also about…being perceived like this: someone who is in a relationship. All his friends learned how to talk about their love lives openly. For him it always felt like a step he missed out on that summer. For the longest time, talking about it meant Vecna’s visions were coming true. He knows that is not true now, they all accept him. That doesn’t change how vulnerable he feels about this though.

“Can you guys just—” Will starts, then stops, breath catching. He shakes his head. “I’m leaving.”

He turns and walks faster.

They follow him anyway. Of course they do. Shoes scuffing on the pavement, voices overlapping as they spill out into the cooler night air, the sounds of the fundraiser fading behind them.

“Is this why you disappear all the time now?” Lucas says, half-joking, half-accusing. “I knew it.”

“It explains a lot too,” Dustin adds. “You’ve been weird. Like, happy-weird.”

“I am not—” Will starts, then gives up with a frustrated huff.

“You’re not denying it!” Max squints at him. “It’s true, isn’t it? I can’t believe you didn't tell me!”

El watches him quietly, too perceptive, not saying anything at all.

Mike’s bike clatters as he stops short. “So that’s it?” he says. “You’ve literally … been keeping secrets from me and won’t even tell us now?”

Mike’s voice sounds so hurt, maybe that’s why Will finally snaps. He will always have a soft spot for Mike.

He spins around, heart pounding. “Fine!” The word comes out sharper than he means it to, and he immediately softens, shoulders dropping. “Okay. Yes. I’m dating someone.”

The group stills, they all are grinning though. That makes Will feel a bit better, these are his friends, of course they are happy for him.

“And?” Max asks. 

“And, nothing.” Will adds quickly, pointing at them like he’s setting ground rules in a courtroom, “you cannot make a big deal out of it.” He gestures vaguely at them.

Lucas raises his hands. "At least tell us who it is!.”

Max’s mouth curls into a grin she very clearly does not intend to suppress. “Yeah, he seems super into you, if the note is anything to go by.”

Will feels his face go nuclear. “That’s— ugh. Stop.”

Lucas lets out a low whistle, impressed. Will can feel himself folding inward again, instinctive, protective. He can’t—he and Chance haven’t even talked about this part yet, who to tell. Will is out to all his family and friends, but the only person who knows about Chance is his little sister.

El steps in without hesitation, smiling small and warm. “Will,” she says, “we all just want you to be happy, right?” She looks around like the answer is obvious.

It is. Everyone nods.

God, he loves her.

Mike still doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Will, something unreadable flickering across his face before he glances away. Will gets it. To them, this is some random guy, a mystery Will is keeping, after everything he’s been through. Of course they’re worried and protective. It eases something in his chest. 

“Yeah, I know.” Will exhales, shaky but relieved. ““I know. You guys don’t need to worry, okay? He’s good.” A beat. “He treats me really well.”

Dustin’s grin stretches, already gearing up to ask approximately twelve questions—

Will raises a finger. “Nope.”

Dustin shuts his mouth with an exaggerated click, offended.

“Cause,” Will continues, softer now, “that’s all you’re getting for now. At least until I talk to him about… sharing.” The word feels strange but right.

They all nod, surprisingly serious about it.

El nods solemnly. “We will wait.”

Mike looks away again, jaw tight. Will knows, Mike is going to be the most dramatic about this now. At least he’s not exploding immediately though, so that feels like a win.

“Ugh, boring.” Max groans, breaking the moment. “But okay, can we make guesses at least?”

Lucas pumps his fist. “Yes! Like a bet.”

Will rubs his face, torn between mortified and weirdly fond. “You’re all impossible.” He sighs. “Yeah. Okay. I guess.”

They finally start walking again, the night cool and open around them, laughter spilling back into the spaces where tension used to sit.

Phase Three: The Party

By next week, it’s impossible to pretend nothing has changed.

There’s no banner declaring unity or whatever. But change is everywhere in the hallways.  At lunch, the tables don’t look the same anymore.

The lines between them are blurred, chairs dragged closer, people sitting where they never would’ve before. A theatre kid perched at the edge of a table full of basketball players. Two cheerleaders sharing fries with someone from the band. Someone from Hellfire leaning over a notebook, arguing strategy with a girl Will’s only ever seen in the hallway.

The talk about the fundraiser—how much money it raised, how fast the petition spread, how the principal looked when he realized half of Hawkins had signed it already. Clubs are back in order, a tiny sign on the bulletin board: ALL EXTRACURRICULAR CLUBS REINSTATED. The tension that used to sit in the room, sharp and waiting, just… isn’t there anymore.

No one makes a big deal out of it, which is a great thing for Will. Because now, Will shows up to basketball practices with Max, and spends half of it staring at Chance. Chance randomly joins him in the art room now, talking while Will paints. It’s perfect. 

Unfortunately, this new normal only makes Will’s friends insufferable about the so-called bet.

“Garrett, from Hellfire?” Max says one afternoon, counting on her fingers.

The bleachers are warm from the afternoon sun, metal humming faintly under them. Practice is over, the field mostly empty except for a few stragglers packing up cones and bags. Will’s sitting cross-legged, sketchbook balanced on his knees. 

Will doesn’t even look up from his drawing. “No.”

Dustin squints. “Dammit, I really thought that was it.”

“Nope.”

“Okay, okay—Josh, from band?” Dustin tries again.

“What? no, I don’t even talk to him.”

“He does have a nice ass though” Max says.

“Ew, no,” Will grimaces. “Also, he clearly likes Katie.”

“The cheerleader?” Lucas asks.

“Yeah” 

“Huh, I didn't know that”

There’s silence for a bit, then Max gasps. “Is it someone from the art club?”

Will sighs, but he is smiling. “Not giving you hints, Maxine.”

Dustin leans back on his bench, eyes lighting up. “Imagine if it’s a jock.”

“Hey,” Lucas says immediately, defensively, “the jocks are cool now.”

“That’s true,” El nods. “Progress.”

“Imagine, if it’s like— Andy,” Dustin muses. 

Will finally looks up at that, incredulous. “Dude what? You think Andy fucking Harper likes guys?” 

“I don’t know Will” Dustin throws his hands up in disbelief, “clearly none of us know anything” 

Will starts laughing. 

Max groans, throwing her head back. “This is impossible. The school is all unity-coded now. It could literally be anyone.”

Mike, who’s been quietly seething, finally cuts in. “It’s stupid,” he says flatly. “You could just tell us.”

There’s an edge to his voice, a staple whenever Will’s love life is discussed now. He’s been like this for a while—shorter answers, longer looks whenever Will disappears between classes or slips out after school. He asks questions, too, but not like the others. Like he’s trying to piece something together and keeps coming up short.

What kills Will the most is, he looks sad each time they are both alone now. Like he’s waiting for Will to secretly spill the beans to just him, but Will pretends not to notice. Soon, Mike and Will have a conversation about this that might be explosive or emotional— because that’s how it always goes with them—but now is not the time. 

For now, he keeps his eyes on his sketchbook and his answers light.

“Hey.” A voice says, snapping the tension in the air.

They all look up.

A girl stands at the bottom of the bleachers, smiling like she already knows this won’t be awkward. Her hair bounces when she shifts her weight, and it takes a second before recognition clicks.

“Hey,” Dustin says, squinting. “You’re—”

“Juliet,” Max finishes. “From that play, freshman year.”

The girl laughs. “Yeah. My name is Claire, though.”

Her eyes flicked over to where Mike was laying, and sat up at her arrival. She doesn’t say anything, and an awkward pause. A beat where no one knows what the right response is, because last year this kind of overlap just… didn’t happen. They were such losers, that even theatre kids never talked to them.

But now, she snaps out of it and gestures vaguely behind her, toward the school. “So, um. I’m throwing a party Friday. At my place.” She shrugs, casual but hopeful. “And I wanted to invite you guys.”

“Us?” Lucas asks, pointing lightly at their group like she might’ve mistaken them for someone cooler.

“Yeah. All of you,” she says, like it’s obvious. “It’s kind of an everyone thing. Like… the whole school’s invited.”

Max straightens immediately. “Oh. Wow.”

Dustin’s grin spreads slow and disbelieving. “Hawkins High has officially lost its mind.”

Claire laughs again, relieved. “So… yeah. Friday. Eight.” Her eyes flick briefly to Mike, then back to his face. “Hope you can come.”

Mike blinks, surprised by the individual attention being given to him.

“Uh,” he says, unsure. “Sure, we’ll try.”

“Cool.” She gives a small wave and heads off, already calling out to someone else across the field.

They watch her go.

Silence.

Then—

“Did we just,” Dustin says carefully, “get invited to a high school party?”

“This year is so fucking weird,” Mike mutters.

El is practically vibrating beside Max. “I love parties,” she announces, like this is the best development of her entire life.

Max bumps her shoulder fondly. “Well, obviously we’re are going then.”

-

They pull up to the party in Mike’s car, because Mike insists that he needs to be the “responsible one” for the night. He just showed up after everyone was done getting ready, jingling the keys:  “I’m not drinking, anyway”, he justified. 

They made complaints at that, but were ultimately grateful that they did not have to bike three miles drunk later in the night. 

Now, as the engine cuts and music thumps faintly from down the block, Lucas claps Mike on the shoulder. Will steps out and smooths down his shirt, trying to ignore the way his stomach flips. He’d spent way too long deciding what to wear. He settled on dark jeans, a soft pale-blue shirt tucked in just enough to look intentional, sleeves rolled. His hair actually cooperated for once. He feels… good. Nervous, but good.

El, meanwhile, is practically glowing in the passenger seat. She turns slightly so they can all see her face. Her makeup is soft but bold in a way that makes her look older, with gloss that catches the streetlight when she smiles. There are tiny rhinestones at the outer corners of her eyes. She looks like a pop star. 

Max is in black ripped tights and an oversized red sweater that slips off one shoulder, combat boots laced tight. Lucas went for a denim jacket over a graphic tee, sleeves rolled up. Dustin’s in a button-down he absolutely stole from his closet’s “special occasions” section, collar slightly crooked. Mike stuck to a simple tee and some washed out jeans. 

From outside, they can already hear the music.

When they step through the open front door, it hits them all at once—

‘Take On Me’ is blaring from somewhere deeper in the house, bass vibrating through the floorboards. Colored lights strung along the ceiling. The air is thick with perfume and something sweet and sharp that is definitely not soda.

“Woah,” Dustin breathes.

“Okay,” Max admits, impressed. “This is legit.”

The living room is packed. People dancing. Someone attempting to breakdance and failing spectacularly. A group gathered around the kitchen island chanting over what looks like Beer Pong. Laughter from the hallway. The entire place buzzing like it’s alive.

Will’s head spins. And then—

“There you are!”

Claire appears like she’s been waiting for them, weaving through the crowd with surprising grace for someone who is very clearly a little tipsy. She’s wearing something short and black, sparkly under the lights, her hair bigger than it was at school, lips glossy. She looks electric.

Her eyes land on them and her entire face lights up.

“You guys came!” she says, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Yeah,” Dustin says, gesturing vaguely. “You really did mean the whole school, huh?”

Claire laughs, but she’s already focused on Mike. “You look nice,” she tells him, bold.

Mike blinks. “Uh. Thanks?”

She reaches out, grabs his wrist. “Come meet some people with me.”

Mike looks taken aback, but he’s already being dragged away. He shoots a look over his shoulder like a man being dragged to execution. Will bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the sheer betrayal in Mike’s eyes when no one saves him. 

Max snorts. “He’ll survive.”

El tilts her head. “She likes him.”

“Oh, absolutely," Lucas says. Then, looks back, realizing who he just said that too. 

El just sighs, like she knows the secret weight of the universe “Well, good luck to her”. 

They all look at her, incredulous at her statement and start laughing. 

Will’s eyes drift further into the room, surveying it like an anthropologist. And that’s when Will notices—

The basketball team is here.

Clustered near the kitchen island, tall and loud, letterman jackets slung over chairs. Cheerleaders too, glittering and bright, talking with theatre kids like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Will’s pulse stutters. If they’re here—

His eyes scan the room again, suddenly sharper. Maybe Chance is here too.

“You guys wanna start with drinks?” Will asks, trying to sound casual even though his pulse is still doing something weird in his throat.

Dustin immediately says, “Yes.” 

They weave their way into the kitchen, which is somehow even louder than the living room. Someone’s leaning halfway into the fridge. There’s a stack of red plastic cups and the counter, there’s giant bowl of red punch.

And like Will suspected—

Chance is there.

He’s standing with Andy, Jermaine, and Chuck, sleeves of his flannel pushed up, laughing at something Jermaine just said. He looks relaxed. Comfortable. Like he belongs anywhere he stands.

They look up and their eyes catch across the kitchen. And they both smile.

Max steps forward, peering into the bowl. “What’s in this?” She asks. 

Chance shrugs, glancing at her. “Does it matter?”

Max considers that for half a second. “Fair.”

She grabs five cups and starts ladling the red liquid in with exaggerated seriousness. “If we die, we die,” she tells no one in particular.

They clink their cups together in something that’s almost ceremonial. They chug. It tastes like syrup and gasoline.

Will swallows and immediately coughs, face twisting. “Ew.”

Lucas wheezes. “Oh my god, that’s awful.”

While everyone’s distracted and gagging, Chance shifts—just slightly—closing the space enough to be near Will without it looking like anything.

He leans in, voice low, meant only for him.

“Bad?”

Will turns his head a fraction. “Horrible.”

Chance’s mouth twitches.

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Will says quietly.

“Well,” Chance replies. “Didn’t know you would either.”

Will arches a brow. “Please. It’s the first real party we were invited to. Of course we’re here.”

Chance huffs softly. “I thought it would be good to show up. Gotta keep the whole ‘school unity’ thing alive.”

Will smiles at him, a little mischievous. “Of course.”

From a distance, it just looks like two guys standing near each other in a crowded kitchen. Up close, it feels like static.

Chance gestures at Will’s cup. “It’s your first time drinking, right?”

Will nods once. “Yeah.”

Chance’s expression shifts—still easy, but a little more focused. Protective, almost.

“Okay bunny,” he says. “Have fun. But if you get too wasted, you find me. Yeah?”

Will rolls his eyes but smiles, punching Chance below the counter for using the nickname in public.

Chance just smirks down at him, grabbing his hand in the dark, where no one can see. 

“Say yes to me”, he whispers the command. 

God.

He doesn’t know how he ever thought this guy would be a bully, even when he is trying to be intimidating, he is sweet.

“Yes, Chance” he complied. He doesn’t know how tonight is going to go anyway, it’s probably a good thing to agree. 

Across the counter, Andy is arguing with Dustin about whether the punch tastes better on the second sip. Jermaine is trying to convince Lucas to try a different drink. The kitchen is loud and bright and chaotic.

But right here, in this tiny pocket of space between them, it feels simple. Will doesn’t feel like he has to hide the smile tugging at his mouth.

They down more drinks and the room starts softening at the edges.

Max grabs Will’s wrist before he can see it coming. “Okay, that’s enough standing around. We’re dancing.”

“Max—” he starts, but she’s already dragging all of them out of the kitchen and into the living room where the music is louder, heavier. Something synthy and electric blasts through the speakers— and the entire room erupts like it’s been waiting for this exact moment.

The drinks hit Will mid-laugh, everything is fuzzy and warm, like someone turned the gravity down half a notch.

The lights blur into streaks of neon. The air smells like sweat and sugar and cheap cologne. Bodies everywhere. All of Hawkins High is packed into one living room like it’s the center of the universe.

El laughs as Max spins her around in the crowd. Lucas appears out of nowhere, attempting something that might be breakdancing. Dustin is jumping like he’s at a rock concert. The people around are just as hammered, copying a shoulder move with intense concentration and zero shame.

The song shifts. The opening beat of ‘Footloose’ kicks in. Everyone starts jumping down in sync. The basketball team storms the floor like they’ve been summoned. They are shouting, clapping to the rhythm, someone nearly knocks over a lamp.

Chance finds Will in the crowd like it’s instinct.

They lock eyes and they’re moving. Nothing is coordinated, just pure, chaotic dancing. They collide in the middle, no one is watching here anyway. He’s spinning, jumping, shouting lyrics he barely knows. Chance mirrors him, laughing, once grabbing Will’s hands and spinning him so fast he nearly crashes into Dustin.

“Careful!” Dustin yells, delighted.

Everyone’s digging it. Cheering. Someone starts clapping along. The living room turns into one massive, pulsing thing.

The night goes in quick flashes of other chaos:

Max and Lucas setting up beer pong on the dining table like seasoned professionals. El deep in conversation with two girls from chem class, gesturing passionately about something that involves glitter. Claire and her friends are standing on a chair trying to start a chant. Dustin losing a cup and accusing someone else of sabotage.

Soon, Mike reappears.

He looks flushed, slightly disheveled. Like he just survived battle, at least he’s holding a drink.

“God,” he says, stumbling toward them. “Guys, please never leave me alone again. That was fucking horrible.”

Max bursts out laughing. “You are a disaster, Wheeler.”

“I don’t know why she was interested in me!” Mike groans. “I told her! And it was so awkward. I’m gonna die. I’m actually gonna die.”

Will is laughing so hard he has to grab Mike’s shoulder, and then tries to force him to dance too. Distinctly he wonders why Mike is so adamant on ignoring these girls. The thought dissipates when the song changes and the whole floor screams again. 

“Can we leave now?,” Mike asks solemnly, raising his cup.

El looks at him weirdly, “What, No!”

He frowns, looking around: “But—”

Someone bumps into them and the circle dissolves again, the music changing, louder now. Everyone pushes back into the center of the floor, and the energy spikes all over again.

Will catches eyes across the bodies. There’s sweat on foreheads, smiles that are bright and unguarded. For a second, everything feels possible. The crowd surges. The night is only getting louder.

Then suddenly, the intro beat of “Why can’t I be you” by The Cure starts playing on the speakers. 

And oh, oh! Will is jumping up and down again, high on adrenaline— he looks through the bodies— He has to be with Chance for this one! 

He stumbles forward through bodies and elbows and spilled drinks, scanning the crowd until he crashes straight into someone solid.

Chance.

They both grab each other to stay upright.

Chance’s hair is messier now, cheeks flushed, eyes bright and unfocused in that way that means he’s definitely had more cups of whatever was in that punch.

“I was finding you!” he yells over the music. Because, of course he was. 

“Me too!” Will laughs, breathless. “They’re playing our song!”

It’s kind of ridiculous. It’s loud and weird and not romantic in the obvious way—but Chance had dedicated it to him months ago in an abandoned parking lot, tinny from his car speakers, spinning Will in the empty space before blurting out, ‘So—like—be my boyfriend? Officially?’

The memory hits him warm and dizzy.

Chance doesn’t hesitate. He grabs Will by the wrist and pulls him into the center of the living room where the dance floor has exploded into chaos.

The beat kicks in harder.

They start dancing—wildly, without shame.

Chance points at Will dramatically as the lyrics start, shouting at him like he means every single word. Will shoves him in the chest, laughing, then twists his hips swiftly just to see Chance choke on his own grin.

“Everything you do is irresistible” Chance belts, off-key.

“Everything you do is simply kissable” Will sings back, too close to Chance’s face. 

If it was any other time, and everyone else around them weren’t drunk as hell, it would raised questions. But right now, everything is fun and light, no one cares if Chance Lawson and Will Byers are dancing together, in fact, everyone really seems to be digging it. Chance grabs his shoulders and spins under his arm. Someone whoops. Someone else bangs on a table.

And then, somehow, they’re climbing onto it.

It’s unstable. It’s probably a terrible idea. But the song is peaking and the room is electric and suddenly they’re up there, hands in the air, feet slipping slightly on the wood.

“Get it, Boys!” someone screams.

Will throws his head back and laughs, hips snapping to the beat, arms loose and fearless. Chance’s hands land on his waist to steady him when he nearly slips, and the contact sends a jolt through him.

The crowd roars, following their lead with the moves.  Below them, Max is cackling. Lucas looks like he’s witnessing a live concert. Dustin is losing his mind.

“Holy shit!” Dustin yells. “Go, Will, go!”

Mike stands a few feet back, drink forgotten in his hand, staring up at Will with wide, stunned eyes. He looks at his best friend, startled into silence for once. Just….in awe.

Because he has known Will this whole life, okay? He’s seen him happy, planning campaigns in his basement. Seen him sad, crying in his arms when Lonnie was too cruel. Mike thought he knew all of Will by now. But, Will keeps on surprising him. First, it was his coming out. Then, he’s suddenly dating. Now— Now, it is this. Because this—this is not basement D&D Will.

This is Will glowing under cheap party lights, dancing on a table with a jock, laughing like the whole world is watching and he doesn’t care.

The wildest part is that the crowd doesn’t recoil. They surge closer.

Basketball players start jumping in rhythm. Theatre kids grab each other’s hands and spin. Cheerleaders climb onto the couch. Someone drags someone else into a ridiculous, dramatic twirl.

Katie from cheerleading laughs as Josh from band awkwardly offers his hand—and she finally takes it. 

Marie bumps into Jennifer, and instead of stiffening, they start laughing, swaying together like high school never happened.

Everywhere Will looks, lines are dissolving.

Popular, nerd, prep, freak—no one cares. They’re just bodies in motion, shouting the chorus together.

Chance leans close, breath warm against Will’s ear. “You seeing this?” he yells.

Will looks out over the room—over Hawkins High blending into one loud, sweaty blur—and his chest feels like it might split open.

“Hell yeah!” he says, not sure Chance can even hear him. Chance’s answering grin says he does.

The song crashes into its final chorus and they jump down from the table together, nearly tripping, collapsing into the crowd. Everyone screams in triumph, shaking them together.

Will’s chest is heaving. He turns toward Chance, hair falling into his eyes, His expression probably isn’t subtle, just open and bright and completely gone.

Chance is grinning back at him, flushed and breathless, one hand still firm on Will’s waist to keep him upright in the chaos. His thumb presses unconsciously under the fabric of Will’s shirt, where it rode up.

For Mike, in that split second, the noise dulls. He stares, not at the dancing or the crowd around. But, at his best friend. He takes it in, all the ways he has changed right in front of Mike’s eyes. He keeps noticing more, Will is looking at Chance like he’s the only person in the room.

And Chance’s hand is still on Will’s waist, even though there is no need for it anymore. 

No one else notices it. Not Max, who’s still yelling. Not Dustin, who’s attempting to crowd-surf for absolutely no reason. Not Lucas, who’s being dragged back into the center.

But Mike notices. His eyes flick down to the hand. Then back up to Will’s face.

That’s when something clicks into place.

Oh. 

Disappearing acts. The basketball games. The way Chance always seems to be right there.

Mike looks at Chance again—really looks at him this time, not dismissing the boy like he always does when he’s in the same room as them.  He’s angled toward Will and doesn’t let go.

Understanding lands heavy and cold. Something ugly curls low in his chest. 

Across the floor, Will feels it before he sees it. His eyes drift across the room and find Mike.

Their gazes lock before he follows the line of Mike’s stare, down to his waist.

Oh.

Oh no. 

He looks back at Mike. There’s a shift in the air—like when a storm rolls in, suddenly it feels colder. He knows that his friend figured it out, his expression is wounded and furious all at once.

Will starts to move, but before he can— Mike steps back and turns, pushing through the crowd. And then he is gone.

Fuck. 

Plus One: The Revelations

Much to Mike’s annoyance, the night drags on forever. People keep yelling for “one more song.” Someone throws up in Claire’s backyard. Dustin loses a shoe and finds it again. El is glowing, Max is unstoppable, Lucas wins three rounds of something he insists is skill-based.

By the time they finally pile into Mike’s car, the sky is tipping toward that deep, almost-purple pre-dawn.Will sits in the passenger seat, hands folded in his lap, still buzzing faintly from the alcohol and the adrenaline and the dance floor and Chance’s hands on him and—

Mike hasn’t said a word to him since they left. Not one.

He just grips the steering wheel and starts the engine. Will knows he is tense, just by the set of his jaw. This conversation is going to happen soon, whether he likes it or not. 

They drop everyone off one by one.

Lucas first. Then Max, who drags El with her for a sleepover. Dustin is last, he salutes dramatically before disappearing into his house. 

Then it’s just Mike and Will again. The car feels smaller suddenly. Quieter, Mike takes the turn toward Will’s street.

The streetlights streak gold across Mike’s face every few seconds. His jaw is locked. His hands are gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles look pale.

Will swallows and waits. And waits.

Finally, they reach in front of Will’s house, and Mike turns the car off, parking on the Byers-Hopper street. 

“Are you finally gonna acknowledge me now?” Will is tired, so it comes out snappy.

Mike doesn’t look at him, his laugh is dry, not amusing. “I don’t know. Maybe I wanna keep it a secret.”

Will’s stomach drops.

“Mike—”

“In fact,” Mike continues, voice thin and sharp, “why don’t we just keep everything a secret nowadays? Since it’s so fun.”

Will’s buzz evaporates, his head hurts like if he had yelled. His fingers curl into his sleeves. 

“Fuck you,” he says before he can stop himself. “I didn’t keep it because it was fun. I did it because I knew you’d react like this.”

Mike finally glances at him, and the expression is worse than anger. It’s wounded.

“So it’s true?” Mike asks quietly. “You’re dating a fucking jock.”

“Why are you saying it like that?” Will snaps. “He’s good to me.”

“Then why were you hiding it from me?”

“Oh my god,” Will runs a hand through his hair. “This isn’t about you, Mike. I didn’t tell anyone.”

“That’s the fucking problem!” Mike’s voice rises, then breaks. “That’s the problem.”

The words crack, and there’s tears in Mike’s eyes now. “Since when am I just anyone, Will?”

Will freezes.

Mike’s voice wavers now, barely held together. “You used to tell me everything. Everything. I didn’t have to hear things with the rest of the party and connect the dots like an idiot.”

Will’s chest tightens painfully.

Mike’s hands tighten on the wheel. “Every stupid thought. Every sketch. Every time you were scared. And now you just—don’t. I thought we were special like that.”

Will goes still, suddenly understanding. Mike’s right. Will did tell him everything, because he had been in love with him. Because he had built his whole world around Mike Wheeler and the basement and the safety of that. And when that cracked—when Mike chose someone else, when life kept moving—Will had slowly, painfully pulled himself out of that orbit, and found something of his own. Because as much as Will likes Mike, he can not give Will what he needs, not like a boyfriend can. 

Still. He never meant for it to feel like ripping something away from Mike. Despite everything, Mike will always be Will’s best friend.  Will’s chest tightens painfully.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel like that—”

“I know.” Mike sighs, “I know, you would never. I just—” he exhales shakily, continuing: “It’s not just that. You’re just… you’re so different now.”

Will flinches. “What, because I’m dating someone? Mike, I never said this when you were with El.”

“I— I know, but, ” Mike scrubs a hand over his face, frustrated. “Like today. What was that?”

“What was what?” Will shoots back, already defensive, already bracing.

“Since when do you laugh with jocks and dance on tables? Is he changing you that much?”

The word lands ugly between them.

Will stares at him. “Mike. Literally everyone was talking to everyone. Lucas was doing beer pong with half the basketball team. Max and El were dancing with cheerleaders! Things are just changing.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want them to!”

“Well, I do! It’s why Chance and I made this plan to pull the school together in the first place.” Will confesses. 

“You—what?” Mike looks at him. 

Will sighs, The night outside is still. A porch light flickers somewhere down the street.

“Look, Mike,” Will says carefully, “this is like what you told me that summer, right? We’re growing up, we’re in high school now. The school is changing. What did you think was gonna happen?”

Mike gets the flashback quick: hears his thirteen-year-old voice say. ‘What did you think was gonna happen? We were never going to get girlfriends?’ He hates his past self so much.

“I already apologized for that, I’m sorry Will” Mike says, sadly. 

“I know, Mike. I forgave you—I’m not bringing it up to make you feel bad.” Will breathes in, “You said it in the worst way possible, but maybe part of it was true. We can’t sit in your basement playing D&D forever.”

Mike’s face turns heartbroken: “I thought you wanted that.”

Will did, he really did once. It was because he was hurting: his childhood was stolen from him and he was scared of who he was. Mike was his escape from all of that, because Will had loved him in a way that made Mike the center of everything.

“I did” Will says, “But it’s different now” 

“So that’s it?” Mike’s eyes shine in the dim light. “You found Lawson and just outgrew me?”

Will’s heart drops into his stomach.

“No,” he says immediately. “God, no. Mike, that’s not what this is. How could you think that?”

“Then what is it?”

Will struggles for the right words. For words that rely on what Will wants to convey without breaching on something that feels wrong.

“I could never stop caring about you, Mike,” he says. “You’re still my best friend. You always will be.”

Mike looks away, blinking hard.

“But I can’t…” Will exhales shakily. “I can’t make you my whole world anymore. That wasn’t fair to either of us.”

The words hang between them, raw and honest.

“And that’s not what I want with Chance either,” Will adds, softer now. “He’s my boyfriend. He’s very important to me. But he’s not my entire world. No one is.” A small pause. “I am my entire world, because I am enough.”

Mike’s shoulders slump in understanding. For a second, he just looks tired.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just— I feel so lost lately. Everything’s different all of a sudden. I didn’t want to lose you too.”

Will’s chest aches at the honesty in it. He reaches across the console and gently takes Mike’s hand.

“You’re not,” he says. “We have survived two different dimensions together. There’s no universe where stupid high school is what takes us out.”

Mike lets out a wet, startled laugh. It’s bright and fragile all at once, it doesn’t fix everything but the air softens.

Will studies him for a moment, thinking about the past few months from Mike’s perspective— the breakup, the drifting, the way he’s seemed untethered. 

“Is that what all the avoiding girls was about?” Will asks carefully. “Or was that about El?”

“I don’t know. I mean— I think I’m just very lost. El and I breaking up was right. I didn’t love her, and I actually didn’t like any of those girls.” Mike shakes his head, “I think I’m just… really lost. The change is too much. Maybe I just need time to figure myself out.” 

“Ofcourse,” Will nods, “You know you can always come to me, for anything.” 

Mike nods, looking at him differently now — softer. He squeezes Will’s hand.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I missed you, Will.”

“I’m still here,” Will adds. “I’m still me, I still love D&D. I still love movie nights. I still love being best friends. That hasn’t changed.”

Mike wipes at his face, embarrassed. “You just… also have an annoying jock boyfriend now.”

Will rolls his eyes at that.

“Annoying?” He huffs, exhausted but fond. “You don’t even know him.”

“I know he dances like an idiot.”

Will smiles despite himself. “Yeah, but I think it’s cute.”

Mike stares at him for a beat, then groans dramatically. “God. I hate him.”

Will lets out a surprised laugh. “Mike, what the hell?”

Mike cracks too, laughter bubbling up and settling warm in the car between them.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“We can’t freeze time,” Will says softly. “But you’re never losing me, okay?”

Mike nods once, and he finally feels okay with it all. 

After a minute he tilts his head in thought. “So. Does this mean I won the bet?”

Will rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness there. “Fine. You win.” He nudges Mike’s shoulder lightly. “Makes sense for it to be you, though. What we have is special, no one else can compete with that”

Mike beams brightly at that, soaking it up. 

Will opens the door, stepping out into the cool early-morning air. The sky is just starting to pale at the edges, the kind of soft blue that only exists before the world fully wakes up. He meets Mike’s eyes through the open window when he’s inside. 

Finally, everything feels right again.

-

The basement is warm in that specific way it only ever is during the final hour of a campaign — everyone on the edge of their seat, dice scattered like casualties, the map curling at the edges from overuse. The yellow light hums overhead. Outside, the world is dark and distant.

Mike stands at the head of the table, palms flat against the battle map, eyes lit with that familiar Dungeon Master intensity.

“The Shadow King staggers,” he says, voice low and steady. “His crown cracks down the center. The portal behind him collapses in on itself, swallowing the last of the fire.”

Dustin is practically vibrating in his seat. “I go for the finishing blow.”

“You’re at one hit point,” Max reminds him. Her and El still aren’t playing with them, but they stayed over mid-campaign after a movie night. Now, they are doing a very bad job acting uninterested to the storyline.

“I don’t care.” Dustin says. 

Mike’s lips twitch. “Roll.”

The die clatters across the table. Everyone leans in.

It lands. Nat-twenty

Silence, and then—

“YES!” Dustin screams, launching out of his chair so hard it nearly tips over.

Lucas pounds the table. “No way. No way!”

Will throws both arms up. “Let’s goooo!”

El claps, confused but delighted. “He is defeated?”

Mike nods slowly, savoring it. “The Shadow King falls. His armor shatters as the sky clears. The kingdom of Ardyn stands free for the first time in a hundred years.”

He pauses. The room is quiet again, all for the dramatic pause. 

“You did it,” Mike says. “You saved the world.”

Then everyone starts talking at once. “I told you we didn’t need the backup spell!” —

“I carried that fight!” 

“You almost died!”

Laughter overlaps, warm and loud and familiar. Will watches Mike more than anyone else. The way his shoulders feel light, looking around at all of them like he’s trying to memorize it.

Dustin gasps dramatically. “The best campaign in party history.”

Max snorts. “You say that every time.”

“It’s because it’s always true.”

El looks at Mike suddenly. “You are very good at words.”

Mike freezes for half a second, then smiles at her. “Thanks, El!”

They start cleaning up in the chaotic way they always do — arguing about experience points, stealing each other’s dice, Max leaning back in Mike’s chair like she owns it, and Mike getting annoyed, telling her to get off. 

Will glances at the clock then. 

5:52.

He sighs, but his stomach flips with nervousness for today.  He hopes it goes well. He looks back at the table quickly, just to make sure no one noticed him glaring at the time.

Unfortunately, he’s not in luck because Lucas’ eyes are on him. He's smirking now. 

“Uh Oh,” Lucas announces to the room, narrowing his eyes. “That’s the look.”

Will shuts his eyes, bracing for the inevitable words and chaos they will cause.

Max immediately perks up. “The look, you say babe?”

“You heard it here first, ladies and gentlemen” Lucas repeats. “Soon, William Byers is going to flee.”

Will scoffs. “I– don’t flee.”

Dustin gasps dramatically, acting like he has been shot. “We're being betrayed, once again, love wins over friendship.”

“We just played an eleven-hour campaign together!" Will protests, “Also, you’re a hypocrite, you totally ditched movie night yesterday for a date with Selena H!” 

“Yeah, well” Dustin shrugs, "At least Sellie has a name we all know of!” 

“Dude— Sellie? Ew” Mike retches at the nickname. 

“She digs it,” Dustin muses. Mike makes another disgusted face.

Max ignores Dustin and leans forward, pushing aside the campaign binder with her elbow. It slides halfway off the table.

“Hey!” Mike says automatically. She ignores him too.

“So,” she says slowly, grinning at Will, “where is no-name boyfriend making you meet him tonight?”

Will rolls his eyes, leaning back. “No where, he’s picking me up—”

“Oooh, date night, what are you doing?” Dustin sings.

“Jesus—shut up.” Will presses his hands over his face. The truth is, he doesn’t know either, Chance insists on surprising him with new things each time. Instead of admitting that, he says:  “You’re all so annoying.”

Mike watches him quietly. It’s not sharp or angry, but it's also an expression Will can’t decipher.

Max stretches back in the chair. “C’mon, give up some details! Is he picking you up somewhere dramatic? The quarry? Lover’s Lake?”

Will drops his hands from his face and pulls in a slow breath, steadying himself, ironing out the nerves fluttering in his chest. Okay. This is it. This is the perfect opening to slip it in—casual, cool, like it’s no big deal at all.

The plan is simple.

Chance picks him up from the Wheeler house. The party is already there. They finally get to see who it is. There’s a quick round of introductions, a normal amount of teasing, a painless “okay, bye,” and then he and Chance can leave. Clean and Manageable.

It’s perfect. It’s also very much now or never, so Will exhales. 

“Actually,” he says, trying for casualness and missing by a mile, “he’s picking me up here.”

Silence. They stare at him and grin. 

“Here?” Lucas repeats.

“Like,” Dustin says slowly, “here here?”

“In front of our eyes?” Max adds. “And we get to meet him?”

Will looks at them nervously, already bracing for the impact “Yeah.”

Dustin shoots to his feet. “HOLY SHIT.”

Max claps once. “Finally, finally!.”

“Guys,” Will says quickly, holding up his hands, “stop making it such a big deal.”

“Us?” Max scoffs. “You are the one who hid him for months. You made us feral.”

“Yes William,” Lucas nods gravely. “Deal with the consequences of your actions.”

“Just— just be normal okay?”

“This is a good thing, Will!” El smiles softly at Will. “We will be cool.”

Will exhales slowly, trying to steady the way his pulse has started climbing. Cause, they will be, he knows they will. He’d told it to Chance a few nights ago, when they finally had the conversation the day after the chaos with Mike. Chance had paced the length of his room when Will proposed the plan, hands running through his hair, nerves written all over him.

Will understood it, this wouldn't just be revealing a relationship for him, it would also be coming out to several people he went to school with. “Are you sure?” he’d asked quietly. “Like… your friends won’t tell anyone else about me?” Will had promised they wouldn’t. And if he was still scared, Chance chose to trust Will completely. Will thinks it will be good for his boyfriend too, to at least have one group and safe space where there is no need to constantly hide, unlike the basketball crowd.  

Now, standing in Mike’s basement with the air buzzing and his friends staring at him like he’s about to unveil a magic trick, the room suddenly feels smaller, but charged. 

Dramatic as ever, the Party camps out in the Wheeler living room, pressed up near the windows like they’re eight years old waiting for Santa. It's ridiculous and so over-the-top. Will cannot believe he fought monsters in alternate dimensions and survived the end of the world with these absolute idiots.

They’re in the middle of yet another stupid argument— Max betting five dollars that the guy trips on the porch step—when headlights sweep across the small front window.

The room goes dead silent when a red Cadillac glides to a stop at the curb. Every head turns in eerie synchronization.

Will pointedly ignores their expressions—wide-eyed, scandalized—and bolts for the door before anyone can say something weird to him that gets his nerves going. 

The night air is cool when he steps outside. The driver’s door opens just as he reaches the driveway, and Chance steps out, tall and solid and very real under the porch light. For a second, it hits Will all over again. This is happening.

He glances around instinctively—quiet street, no neighbors lurking, the rest of the Wheeler house dark upstairs—and then he rises onto his toes and throws his arms around Chance. It’s still casual enough to pass as a normal hug if anyone saw. Chance laughs softly, catching Will easily.

“Hi, baby” he says in Chance's ear. Then, he notices the container in Chance’s hands—a metal baking tray wrapped carefully in foil.

Will raises an eyebrow.

Chance shrugs, suddenly looking almost sheepish. “I panicked.”

Will bites back a grin.

From the living room window, he can practically feel the intensity of the staring. He risks a glance over Chance’s shoulder.

Inside, El has clasped her hands together like she’s witnessing something sacred. Dustin’s jaw is on the floor. Max is visibly vibrating. Lucas looks stunned, and Mike already knew, but he still seems to be staring, expression dark.  

Will turns back to Chance, softer now. “Nervous?”

“Will, the things you make me do”, Chance exhales. “I never thought I’d be this nervous about talking to a bunch of nerds.”

Will rolls his eyes fondly, slipping his hand into Chance’s sleeve and tugging him toward the house.

The door swings open.

For half a second, it’s just silence—six pairs of eyes locked onto Chance like he’s a rare animal that wandered into suburban captivity. 

“Dude!” Dustin blurts.

Lucas steps forward first, shaking his head in disbelief. “Hi, Lawson. Never thought it would be you.”

Max is grinning so hard it looks painful. “Oh, this is amazing, we both have boyfriends on the team now.” 

El just beams, openly delighted.

Dustin straightens abruptly, puffing himself up like he’s about to deliver a presidential address. “Okay. We gotta give him the shovel talk now.”

“Do you even know how to do that, idiot?” Mike says.

Dustin falters. “I—have seen movies?”

Chance just sighs, the picture of someone who walked into a lion’s den voluntarily. “Hi, guys,” he says evenly. Then he lifts the tray in his hands. “I brought you this.”

All heads swivel down to a foil-wrapped baking tray might that as well glow. Dustin takes the tray and peels back the foil without shame. A neat row of thick, slightly uneven brownies sits inside, still dusted lightly with powdered sugar.

He abandons all hostility instantly. “Never mind, I like him.”

“Bringing us homemade sweets as a bribe?” Lucas smirks, amused by seeing his Vice-captain in this environment. 

Chance shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “My sister made them with me. She insisted I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”

El melts. “That is very sweet.”

“Yeah,” Chance smiles, softer now. “She’s the best.”

While they’re distracted— arguing over who gets which peice—Will edges subtly toward the door.

“Well,” he says quickly, gesturing vaguely. “Great time, guys! You have met him now, so we are just gonna leave—”

He goes to grab the doorknob, but Max physically blocks him, slamming her palm against the door before he can open it.

“Oh no, no,” she says sweetly. “We just got answers after weeks. Interrogation in the basement, now.”

“Max,” Will groans. “Come on.”

“Yes.” To his surprise, it’s his sister that agrees solemnly “We must evaluate.”

“Jane, what the hell?” He looks at her offended, Will looks at Chance apologetically.

Chance exhales through his nose, resigned but not backing down. “It’s okay, bunny.” he says. “I expected something like this”

Will blushes and the party looks delighted. Max gestures dramatically toward the basement door. “Down we go.”

And just like that—basketball player, alleged jock menace—is escorted into the sacred dungeon of the Wheeler basement. Will follows, heart racing, half-mortified, half-thrilled.

-

Fortunately, it is not an interrogation at all. They’re just scattered everywhere in the basement with the tray of brownies in between them— sprawled, cross-legged on the carpet and tucked beside each other, their friends treat it like a normal day of  hanging out that just happens to include Chance. 

Will ends up on the floor too, back against the couch and Chance sits beside him.

For a second, Will almost keeps a careful inch of space between them. It’s muscle memory at this point—hallways, parties, restaurants— are always calibrated and aware when they are out together: sitting together but not close, laughing but not lingering. The instinct to make it look friendly with people around.

But then, he remembers where he is. 

Max is licking powdered sugar off her thumb. Lucas, Mike and Dustin are arguing. El is smiling. No one here is watching for the wrong reasons.

Will lets his shoulder bump into Chance’s, casual as anything, but it’s deliberate. Chance glances down at him—just for a second—like he’s checking and knows Will’s asking without words. When Will doesn’t move away, doesn’t tense, Chance gives the smallest nod.

That’s all it takes for Will to melt sideways, resting his head on Chance’s shoulder, most natural place in the world. Chance’s hand comes up automatically, fingers brushing through the ends of Will’s hair before he presses a soft kiss to the top of his head and lets go.

Mike and Max clock the movement with open curiosity. Mike looks like he’s going to explode—eyes wide, brain visibly short-circuiting—while Max jabs him sharply in the ribs without looking away, her expression positively radiant.

“You guys are cute,” she whispers dramatically. Chance startles first, like he forgot there were witnesses. Then he recovers and shoots her a grateful look, half sheepish, half amused.

“Get a grip,” Will mutters, but he doesn’t sway away.

Lucas is the one that brings it up again, chewing aggressively. “Okay! Now that I know it’s you” He points at Chance. “I’m so excited to know the story.” 

Dustin nods: “Questions, Rapid fire.”

“Oh no,” Will groans into Chance’s shoulder, but secretly smiling.

“When did it start?” El asks, her voice calm but her eyes sharp in that way that means she will absolutely notice if anyone lies.

Chance shifts slightly under Will’s weight but doesn’t move away. “Uh— technically in May? But we only made it official at the end of summer.”

There’s a beat and they all stare at them.

“That long?” Lucas blurts. “Dude—” he points accusingly at Will. “I thought you said it was new.”

“It is new,” Will insists, lifting his head just enough to shrug defensively.

“It’s September now!” Dustin yells.

Will just smiles again, unhelpful and serene.

Max slowly turns her head toward Mike, clearly bracing for impact. She studies his face like she’s waiting for him to combust—but he just looks… neutral.

Too neutral. Her eyes narrow. “How come you aren’t surprised, Wheeler?”

“Oh,” Mike tries to shrug casually, but the smugness in his voice betrays him, “I already knew”

He did know. After that talk in the car, Will decided to tell Mike all of it. He had been good about it, only sometimes his eyes distant and unreadable, but Will had chalked it up to Mike Shenanigans and moved on. Mostly, it has been good for their relationship. Because it was important for Mike to know it. But also for Will, to let out all the secrets he kept since summer. 

“What do you mean, you knew?” Max bolts upright so fast she nearly headbutts El. “You told Mike before us?”

Will winces. “It wasn’t like that, he figured it out himself.”

“Yeah,” Mike says, the smugness fully betraying him now. “Because I actually pay attention. And I won the bet, by the way.”

“Ugh!” Dustin groans, digging into his pocket.

Lucas mutters something under his breath but pulls out five dollars anyway. Max glares at Mike like she might set him on fire but hands over her crumpled bill.

“Bet?” Chance murmurs quietly beside Will.

Will laughs, turning toward him to explain in a low voice, recounting the note incident. By the time he’s done, Chance is red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry—”

“No need, baby,” Will says automatically, nudging their knees together. “It all worked out in the end.”

Around them, the basement has softened into something warm and noisy—money exchanging hands, Dustin complaining about unfair advantages, Max dramatically accusing Mike of insider trading. The fairy lights strung along the ceiling cast everything in a gold haze. Someone kicks the brownie tray closer to the middle. El watches the chaos like it’s a particularly satisfying TV show.

Lucas clears his throat after a moment, leaning forward with a more cautious expression. “Uh. So, not to be an asshole or anything, but I’m pretty sure you’ve dated girls before, Lawson?”

Chance doesn’t flinch.

“Oh,” he says easily. “Yeah. I like both.”

El blinks, “That’s a thing?” she asks him. 

“Yes, many people are” Chance nods, “Elton John, for example”.

“What’s an Elton John?” she asks. Chance looks at Will, confused on how to reply to that. 

“I’ll show you later”, Will tells her, and she nods. 

There’s a tiny pause, like Chance is contemplating if he should say something. Then his eyes slide down from Will to his friends, face softening. “But right now, I just like Will.”

Will’s ears go pink.

“Good” El nods approvingly, as if this answer has passed inspection. Then Max tilts her head slightly. “How did you guys meet?”

Will and Chance share a look. “Construction site near the church,” Will says finally.

Every eyebrow in the room rises.

Lucas gestures vaguely, startled. “Why were you both just… lurking around a construction site?”

“Long story,” Will sighs. “We both went there to clear our heads. And we just—kept running into each other.”

Chance nods, amused at the memory. “Scared the hell out of me the first time. Didn’t expect a pretty boy wandering around at two in the morning.”

“You were sneaking out at midnight?” Mike’s eyes widen as he looks at Will. 

“I was okay, Mike. It was just for a summer anyway" Will shrugs, although it was only partially true. 

“We’ll do it less now that our plan has succeeded,” Chance adds, nodding, probably thinking about the same thing.

“What plan?” Max demands immediately.

Chance blinks and smiles smugly. “What, you think Hawkins High just united by itself?”

There’s a beat. You can actually see the gears turning in their heads. When it clicks, Dustin sits up so fast he almost knocks over the brownie tray. 

“Oh, son of a bitch.” He points at them, scandalized. “That day the music cut during the game, you guys planned it!”

The couple says nothing, just grins.

“All for the greater good,” Chance says. There’s a second of stunned silence—and then the basement erupts into laughter.

“Y’know what, I see it now” Lucas thinks out loud, “You both fit together, in a weird way.”

“Thanks, Lucas” Will rolls his eyes fondly.  

He loves this, everything is going good. But, it’s been a while, he glances at the clock on the wall, still ticking steadily above the cluttered shelves.

“Anyway,” he says, brushing imaginary crumbs off his jeans, “we should probably get going, right?” 

Chance nods, standing up to give Will a hand to pull him up. 

“What are you guys doing today?” Max asks. 

“I don’t know” Will sighs dramatically, pretending to fall back on him. “He always keeps it a secret.”

Chance catches him with ease, winking. “Gotta keep him on his toes,” 

Will intertwines their hands with his boyfriend, failing to hide a smile. 

Chance pauses, glancing around at the group like he’s weighing something. Then he shrugs. “Actually… I was gonna take him to a drive-in theatre. You guys wanna come too?”

Will lights up instantly. “Wait, really? What movie?”

“The Princess Bride,” Chance says, unable to hide his grin at how Will’s entire face transforms.

He actually bounces once on the balls of his feet. “No way! I really wanted to watch that.”

“I know,” Chance says simply, pressing  a quick kiss to Will’s temple. Then, he turns towards the rest of the group, “You guys in? We would need another car though.”

Then Will turns to the others, energized. “You all should come! Mike, you can take your car, right?”

“Uh—yeah. Sure,” Mike says, slightly dazed from where he was staring at Will and Chance. Everyone makes noises of joy and agreement. 

“Guess movie night is on,” Dustin declares, already grabbing his jacket. 

They spill out into the night in a messy wave of noise and laughter. Two cars with lamming doors and engines turning over. The red Cadillac gleaming under the streetlight and Mike’s car rumbling to life behind it.

Will ends up in the passenger seat of Chance’s car, the girls in the back, window rolled halfway down. The night air rushes in, cool and clean, tugging at his hair. Behind them, he can see his friends piling into the other car, Dustin waving obnoxiously out the window.

Chance reaches over the center console, fingers finding Will’s without looking. Will squeezes back. As they pull away from the curb, the houses blur softly past, Hawkins quiet and almost peaceful for once. The world is finally back to normal, there’s no military or Vecna or his horrible visions to pull Will down anymore. 

As laughter echoed between two cars, his friends and his boyfriend. Will rests his head back against the seat, wind brushing his cheeks, and feels at peace.