#mopper

Benny passes him a smoke, Wayne lights it and tosses his zippo across the table to Lonnie, inhales and lets his head feel spacey for a moment, tunes back into the conversation and makes a stupid joke about Ricky’s inability to get a girl in bed.

Piano Man starts playing, and the same thing happens as every other Friday night spent in this grimy bar; they all start to sing.

Half the boys jump up and put on a show, they’re all laughing and tossing used napkins and stubby lids at them, making fun. Hopper swings his arm over Wayne’s shoulder, leans in and points at the concert before them, tells them they look like a bunch of fags and laughs. Wayne laughs too, but his skin feels hot where Hoppers arm lays. His beer and cigarette stained breath is a cool summer breeze when he looks in Wayne’s direction.

Their proximity is nothing unusual, boys leaning on boys when pissed cause they can’t hold each other up, swaying together from the intoxication, brethren leaning in close to crack crude jokes or drunkenly tell each other how much they secretly care.

But to Wayne, it’s different. Hopper is close and it’s like standing beside a roaring flame with your feet nailed into the ground. He wants to run away but he cannot, he couldn’t if he tried.

Hopper looks at him, his laugh falls short and Wayne’s does too, and just as quickly as he leant forward, he pulls away like nothing happened. They go back to sitting beside one another, careful to let no one know of that filth stained secret they keep locked away in the bin of Wayne’s pickup truck, under the star studded sky in the dark of night, not a soul to be seen for miles.

But under the table, their knees touch through thick, dirt stained jeans. Wayne’s heart races, but he wills it not too. He can’t help it though, his heart is aflame.

BIG STACK OF MIKE AND KOPPER

Wayne is sixty three. He’s in a bar that his nephew bought him too, a celebration of “we lived motherfuckers!”, more beers than he can count, but these days his money stretches a little further.

There’s a crowd here, of familiar faces and faces far too young to legally be allowed in here, but Wayne doesn’t mind, just doesn’t let them drink.

He’s badly dancing with Eddie, they’re taking it easy because Wayne’s old enough that his bones are begging to permanently ache, and Eddie’s only a few months into his rehab, skin still prone to tearing and legs still prone to buckling. They down a beer, dance some more, and Eddie needs a breather.

Wayne watches his nephew take a seat in Wayne’s favourite booth of this bar, bumps his shoulders into Steve’s, and they both blush, look away, laugh like shy kids.

They look around, don’t see Wayne watching, and Steve ducks down to kiss Eddie on the cheek, their pinkies overlapped on the sticky table between them. Eddie looks happy.

Wayne’s heart is alive with everything good in the world, his boy only deserves the best, especially after all he’s been through. He’s so grateful he’s got his boy, and he’s so grateful Eddie’s got a boy of his own now.

Hopper is standing at the bar. Wayne still can’t believe he’s alive. He looks dreadful, like walking death, has his hair shaved short to his head like he had at seventeen. Wayne’s missed him, still can’t listen to Piano Man, even though it’s his favourite song.

Hopper takes his beer and smiles at him, simplicity in it, like he isn’t thinking about the same things Wayne is.

Wayne has always believed in folk tales, magic, and curses, and he certainly believes he’s been cursed now, because he realises in horror that Piano Man has begun to play.

Hopper laughs, wonders over to him dancing, takes it easy because his bones ache now too, and his body spent a year eating itself for survival. Wayne still likes his smile though, still loves his eyes.

Eddie and Steve are dancing with Robin, the young ones are acting like dancing is far too lame for them, and Hopper swings his arm over Wayne’s shoulder and begins to sing.

They both do. And they laugh, and sway, and hold each other up because their legs are jelly from the drink. And Wayne’s skin feels hot where hopper touches him, and his mind feels hazy with the smell of him, and his heart feels heavy with the memory of what they used to be — what they couldn’t be — but he clings to all the good he can get. And he sings like it’s the last time he ever will.

Across the room, Eddie spins Steve under his arm and they crash into each other, take each other for a slow waltz as they sing and laugh and get too close for public. Wayne doesn’t stop them though, wouldn’t dare let Eddie feel the shame he always has. He’ll kill anyone that dares tell his boy to stop.

Hopper watches them too, tells Wayne that they’re in love, Steve loves him, they’re happy.

“We could have been happy.” Wayne says, and he’s never dared be so open before, never dared to take such a risk.

Hopper does not say anything for a while, only tenses where his arm is still slung over Wayne’s shoulder. And after a while, once the song is over, and Eddie and Steve are helping eachother to sit down again, does Hoppers arm relax. He takes his hand back to grab at Wayne’s shoulder, squeezes it gently, turns to look at him.

“We could be happy now, if you’d like?”

Wayne reaches up, places his hand over Jim’s, resting on Wayne’s bony old shoulder, and squeezes it there. He smiles at Jim, and Jim smiles back, and for the first time in his life, lets himself try for happiness.

For the first time in a long time, Piano Man does not make him cry.

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there, I fixed it, even though no one asked me too because no one gets them like i do (no one gets the old man yaoi like i do)

1. mikhail mention 👀

2. what the fuck is up with the duffers and their exclamation points, they are too cute