“I lost because your face distracted me!”

After coming out, the last place Will Byers expected to be hiding was the closet. Yet here he was, snuggled into the familiar warmth of his best friend’s sweaters. He tried his best to breathe silently, each inhalation infused with the lingering smell of Mike. It intoxicated his brain and sent tingles rushing from his head to his toes. Will cautiously laid his hands on the rough closet doors in front of him and rested his forehead on the door. He closed one eye as the other peered out the narrow space between the white bifold doors. He saw Mike’s room as it had always been. Dark clothing was strewn across every inch, his textbooks thrown carelessly into a mountain at the foot of the bed. Papers of scribbled notes were thoughtlessly scattered across every surface. The clutter never bothered Will. It was almost comforting, like he was seeing the inside of Mike’s creative mind spread across his room. Will was startled as muffled voices approached. He heard the door latch open aggressively, and suddenly the once muffled voices flooded the room with violent volume.

“Richie, I warned you about this!” Mike yelled as he tromped over the clothing, dropping his decaying backpack off his shoulder and discarding it somewhere in the mess. Richie came in following a footstep behind him like a shadow, tripping as his feet became ensnared in a long forgotten sweatshirt. He was trapped in place, cursing under his breath as he attempted to free his awkward limbs. Mike crossed the room with heavy steps.

“Come on, Mikey boy! Chare up. 'av a pint! 'tis not so brutal, me lad,” Richie urged in his Irish cop voice as he shook one lanky leg in an attempt to rid himself of the sweatshirt. Will watched as Mike froze where he stood, stone cold with anger. Mike clenched his hands into fists and locked his jaw with painful strength in an attempt to keep himself from letting them loose on his cousin.

“Stop doing that!” He burst, pivoting on one foot to face his rival. “Richie, all you’ve done since you got here is open that fucking trash mouth of yours. You made El uncomfortable, and when I asked you to tone it down you just got worse. I told you not to provoke Troy, and what did you do? I told you to leave Will alone, and you decided that meant to flirt and toy with his emotions.” Mike ranted. Richie suddenly dropped his composure. His ribcage collapsed and Will could see he was just awkward, guilty Richie for a moment. Mike took a deep breath, rolled his eyes and added, “And I told you to stop fucking smoking in my room!”

Richie dropped one hand to his side and rubbed his neck with the other and began uncomfortably, “Well, you know-”

“Yeah, I know,” Mike cut him off, “You and your voices.” Mike looked at the ground and shook his head, his voice calming as he ran out of steam to argue. “Your stupid voices,” Mike muttered to himself as he crossed his arms. Mike closed himself off in that moment, disappointment and frustration burning out his energy to be present in the argument. Even staring at the brown curls at the back of his head, Will could feel the hurt welling in Richie’s eyes.

“Well it’s not my fault your friends can’t take a joke!” Richie claimed defensively, finally kicking away the navy sweatshirt he’d been trapped in. Will watched as Richie stumbled forward, trying to get to Mike. He reached out a hand and Mike spun around stomping toward the exit. The tension between the two boys was unbearable. They both meant well, but they interacted with the world in such different ways. While Mike took control of the world around him, the silent and gentle leader, Richie yelled ill-advised humor at it. They both had their share of pent-up anger for everything life had unfairly thrown at them, but they dealt with it in such contrasting ways.

Will jumped back from the closet doors, shrinking back into the soft clothing as he saw Mike stampeding in his direction. Mike irritably mumbled with no direction, “I’m not doing this with you right now.”

“Mike, wait,” Richie plead as he did a little anxious hop where Mike had previously stood. He began to chase after Mike once again, tripping over the mountain of textbooks in the process and falling onto his hands with a loud smack. “Mike!” Richie called as he blundered back to his feet. “Mike you can’t-” Will heard the door slam shut again as the voices hurried away. He took a deep breath to cleanse his racing mind. Once again the smell of Mike made him woozy. Will stood frozen in the closet for a moment, attempting to comprehend everything he had just been through.

Just like every Friday, the party had intended on meeting at Mike’s after school, and just like every Friday El was stuck late in class because she just had so many questions to ask. She was a few years behind the rest of the party, but she never stopped learning. She was fascinated and stuck on every detail. It annoyed her teachers more than anything, but she wasn’t caught up on conventional knowledge like the rest of the class, so every assertion the teacher made was followed by a contradictory question from El, and every contradictory question from El was met by an irritable sigh by her teacher. She meant no harm, she just had a different way of understanding the world, one that no classmate could begin to comprehend. Mike stood casually outside the door of El’s class to wait for her. Meanwhile, Max was out in the high school parking lot bravely skating through the after-school traffic and yelling insults at Lucas and Dustin who were pretending they weren’t desperately searching the ground for the car keys they’d lost. So just like every Friday, Will turned up to the Wheeler household early.

Though ill-advised, Will knew from experience that the Wheelers rarely kept their house locked. To be fair they lived in a nice suburban neighborhood, and the threats in Hawkins tended to be a bit more supernatural than thievery. So Will calmly turned the fancy golden door knob and let himself into the pristine front entry of Mike’s home. He unfastened the velcro strap at the ankle of his knock-off sneakers and began to loosen the black laces, as per the rules of such a well-kept home. His shoes that had once been white, but now were yellowing with age and love, seemed such a stark contrast to the clean entry as he kicked them off with his toes. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Richie came violently bounding down the stairs only to stop in his tracks with one arm behind his back when he saw Will. Richie’s eyes were wide in the magnification of his coke bottle glasses as he stared at Will, his loose Hawaiian swinging forward around his frozen sides with the sudden change in momentum.

“Oh, it’s you,” Richie stated simply with a shrug before starting right back upstairs as quickly as he had come down. Will slowly finished kicking off his shoes as he stared at the stairs in confusion at the strange interaction he’d just encountered. His daze was broken when Richie called down in his British butler voice, “Pip pip, cheerio. Won’t you join me, my good lad?”

Will shook his flustered head and blinked a few times. Though he was unsure, Will was intrigued, and he slowly began dragging himself up one stair at a time after Richie. The first thing that caught him was the smell wafting down the stairway, making his nose itch. When he reached the top step, Will found Richie standing in the doorway of Mike’s bedroom. Richie leaned on the doorframe with his arms crossed, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips and one leg propped up behind him. Richie examined Will for a moment, looking him up and down before simply walking into Mike’s room with no explanation. Will hesitated to follow. Richie could be unpredictable, and Will wasn’t sure if he could trust this Derry boy. Will could feel the blood rushing through his veins, his pulse heightening as he considered just ignoring Richie and heading back down to wait for his friends. Will nodded to himself, nibbling at his lip in contemplation. That seemed to be the safe decision.

“What? You go back to the fucking future, Marty McFly?!” Richie obnoxiously yelled out from the bedroom.

Will looked down at his orange vest, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about it. He wasn’t sure if it was the shame or just his own irresistible curiosity that drew him in, but he found himself quietly obeying the demands of Richie. When he stepped into Mike’s room, Will saw Richie sprawled across Mike’s bed, blowing smoke up into the air. Will grabbed at his own forearm anxiously as he tentatively sat beside Richie. The peculiar boy clumsily sat himself up beside Will. Richie held out the cigarette lazily toward Will, and Will pinched his eyes shut tightly, cringing as Richie exhaled sweet smoke into his face. Will opened his eyes cautiously and found himself staring at the cigarette in fear. It wasn’t the cigarette itself that petrified him. His mother had smoked his whole life, and though he had never thought of doing it himself, Will saw no problem with the matter of smoking. It was that it was Richie’s cigarette that sent shivers down Will’s spine and froze him in terror. He chanced a glance up at Richie, who silently responded by raising his eyebrows and shoving the cigarette closer to Will. To his surprise, Will watched his hand reach out and linger at Richie’s offering. It was as if he was watching someone else control his body. Will took the stick, trembling so violently that he nearly dropped it as he slowly brought it to his mouth. He closed his eyes tightly and inhaled deeply. He opened his eyes wide as the realization of his mistake hit him, the feeling of black poison swirling in his stomach. He attempted to stifle his coughing fit in embarrassment as Richie watched on laughing. 

“You don’t swallow it, dickhead. Here,” Richie began, leaning over and took the cigarette from Will. “You’ve got to breathe it in shallow, like this,” Richie brought the cigarette to his smooth lips and inhaled blissfully. He took the stick away from his mouth and after a moment blew the smoke at Will like he was blowing a kiss, smirking behind the mischievous grey cloud. “You just kind of hold it in your mouth for a minute, and then let it go,” Richie explained casually as he shoved the cigarette back at Will. Will carefully took the cigarette in his steadying fingers, his terror suddenly replaced by his irrational determination to redeem himself. He did as Richie taught, sucking in the smoke as if it were a straw in a coke. He paused a moment, waiting for the cloud to cool in his mouth before carelessly breathing it out toward the floor. Will stared at the bedroom door, his head off in space as he handed the cigarette back toward Richie.

They continued like this for a while, silently passing the dwindling cigarette back and forth until Will felt a jolt of confidence and comfort. He turned toward Richie and blurted out, “Why are we in Mike’s room?”

Richie shrugged, not meeting his eyes. He huffed out smoke like dragon’s breath, immediately going for another desperate drag. “I’m disposable,” Richie explained. “Already got kicked out of my own house. Probably better if I don’t lose this one too. Aunt Karen’s never going to let Mike go now that Nancy’s left for college, so who’s it gonna hurt if she thinks Mike’s smoking instead of me?” Before he could stop himself Richie added, “And Uncle Ted doesn’t have the first fucking idea what goes on in this house,” as he handed off the cigarette to Will. Will nodded, taking another blissful drag. He felt it invade his body, valiantly breaking apart the tension and fear in every nerve and calming him with a nicotine lullaby.

Their calm was interrupted when they heard the front door struggling to be opened. “Shit!” Richie spat out, jumping off the bed and turning to Will. “Warden’s home.” Richie snatched the last of the cigarette from Will’s grasp and shoved him toward the closet, effectively knocking Will over in the process. Richie quickly and carelessly put the cigarette out on the closet door, leaving a  disturbing black scar on the white paint. He opened it in desperation, vigorously gesturing for Will to get in. Will wasn’t sure why he allowed himself to follow every command Richie gave him, but he clambered to his feet and walked into the closet without argument. Will watched fearfully as Richie closed the doors on him, shutting Will off from the rest of the world.

Will was jolted out of his reverie when the closet doors clattered about, opening to reveal Richie struggling with the contraption. Richie kicked stray clothing out of the way in an attempt to free Will from the comfort of being alone in the small closet. “They’re in the basement,” Richie commented passively as he grappled with the door. Will nodded, feeling a pang of guilt for reasons he couldn’t understand. He took small steps and stared at the floor as he exited the closet, walking past Richie who was ushering him out of the room. Will reached the top step of the stairway and nervously glanced back to see Richie slamming his bedroom door behind him, loudly shaking his obnoxious metal signs. In the center lived a red and black “Keep Out” sign, below which was an old, beat up street sign that read “Neibolt”. Both signs were weathered and Will had half a sense to say Richie was mischievous enough to have stolen them right off their posts. They were poorly nailed to the white door that used to house Nancy’s bedroom. It seemed much less welcoming now, Will concluded as he turned back to the stairs.

He felt relief wash over him like a fresh rain when he laid eyes on his friends in the basement. Lucas had Dustin in a headlock while Dustin swung his arms around wildly trying to get free. Max rolled her eyes at them as she closed the mini fridge and crossed the room with a can of soda in either hand. She tossed one to El who was snuggled up to Mike on the couch. El’s eyes locked on the soda and she mentally guided it to the table in front of her. She smiled in pride at her accomplishment while Max threw herself down on the couch next to El. Will smiled at the misfit behavior of his friends as he finished descending the stairs into the warmly lit basement. He was greeted with excited cheers of his name and familiar smiles from each of his friends. 

“You’re late!” Mike teased as he gestured Will over to the couch with the hand that was not wrapped around El. “Normally you’re sitting here waiting for us,” Mike elaborated, a flash of concern flying across his face. Will sat next to Max on the couch attempting to stumble out an excuse.

“Well I-“

“Have you been smoking?” Max blurted out as she furrowed her fiery eyebrows at Will. “You reek.”

Will shrunk under her accusations, suddenly very aware of the smoke laced in his clothing, hair, and every inch of exposed skin. “I- Um.. it’s just…” Will stuttered, looking around at the concerned and critical expressions on each of his friend’s faces in horror. “I-”

“It was Richie,” Mike vomited, cutting off Will’s pathetic rambling. Mike stared through Will’s eyes and straight into his soul with a look of hurt confusion. Mike’s eyes didn’t leave Will’s as he added, “Must have drifted down here when Will came in.”

Will felt guilt welling up in the pit of his stomach as his best friend covered for him. Mike’s eyes searched Will’s face for any sign of life, but Will just looked so dead all the time. Will couldn’t tell if Mike knew for sure what had happened, but he’d be a fool if he couldn’t read the suspicion plaguing every feature of Mike’s face. The room was awkwardly silent as the group stared at the invisible tension between Mike and Will. Will was afraid to close his eyes, but all he wanted was to blink it all away. The answer to his prayers came when Dustin piped up.

“You guys will never guess what I brought,” Dustin claimed using his arm for emphasis as he backed away from the group. He turned around and excitedly unzipped his backpack to reveal his multitude of video game cartridges crammed in amongst the decaying textbooks.

“Sweet man, what’ve you got?” Max asked excitedly as she jumped up from the couch and crossed over to him. They began sorting through the pale grey cartridges together as Lucas turned to make judgements about each game Dustin owned. Eleven stood up in her gentle way and floated over to where the decisions were being made, leaving Mike and Will alone on the couch together. Will chanced a glance to his right, and regrettably Mike’s confused stare had not moved from Will’s face. Will looked down and nervously pulled at each shaky finger on his hand. He wasn’t sure why he felt so guilty. It wasn’t like he had done anything wrong. Whether or not he chose to smoke was none of Mike’s concern. Smoking in Mike’s room was a little uncalled for, he’d give Mike that, but Richie was going to be smoking there with or without Will. He knew Mike, though not Richie’s biggest fan in the world, wouldn’t ever judge him for who he hung out with. Will supposed it was himself that he felt guilty for, or rather his lack of existence. He was so numb and so dead to the world all the time. Quite simply, Will had nothing left to live for. That’s the kind of thing PTSD can do to a person he supposed. When every waking moment is a custom-made torture poisoning your brain, there’s not much point in existing. Will breathed as he began to understand. He had nothing left in the world to wake him up but cheap thrills.

“You have the new Super Mario Brothers?!” Max exclaimed, her warm hair drifting behind her as she ran across the basement with the hunk of grey plastic. She shoved it into the Nintendo Entertainment System that lived below the boxy television set, bouncing with excitement. Max sat in awe as the pixel filled screen lit up her face and reflected in her bright blue eyes.

“Me first!” El exclaimed in her child-like glee, running to the lively television. Her earthy plaid shirt flowed behind her like a cape as she plopped herself down next to Max, who was scooting back to view the entire television, tiny grey controller in hand. Max started the game, then casually passed the controller off to Eleven, who began bashing buttons passionately as the 8-bit figure fought it’s way across the blue screen. Her tongue poked just slightly out of the corner of her mouth as she bit it in concentration. El leaned closer to the screen as the obstacles became more difficult as if she could will the characters to do her bidding with an intense stare.

“Jumpjumpjumpjump!” The entire party erupted as a tiny pink enemy raced toward El’s character.

“Look out!” Max screamed, pointing a finger at the screen as the two figures clashed. Eleven’s character began flashing on the screen as she huffed and passed the game controller to Max. The party continued to change turns whenever someone lost a life, all laughing and screaming at each other as their eyes locked onto the fast-paced action on screen.

Hi mum! @superbyersbros

Summary: Of all the demons Will Byers had to face, his thoughts were the worst. Every haunted memory plagued his mind and he had nothing left to live for but moments of numbness. Then Richie Tozier came to town and Will found himself pulled toward the tortured boy with an inexplicable magnetism. Finally having someone to understand his trauma seemed like a blessing, but Will would soon find that cheap thrills come at a cost.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Thank you, I'm glad I can be of help!

If ya'll think I am not in love with shipping Will with the boys from the loser's club your dead ass wrong lemme tell you that.

Ryers ( Richie/Will ) - Richie being outgoing and happy and always making jokes with Will and letting his small boyfriend doodle on him with pen and him helping him with homework while Will lays on his shoulders.Not to mention,Cuddling, a lot of cuddling. Will has to hold Richie back from snapping at someone when they make fun of him.Richie usually holds Will close all the time,if he catches your eye on Will consider yourself a silent enemy.

Kasbyers ( Eddie/Will ) - Two shy boys being in a relationship, when anyone calls Will a zombie boy you know Eddie snaps,their affectionate all the time. Eddie will give kisses on his cheek when their alone,they hold hands in the hall way.leave notes on each others desks.Will loves kissing Eddie's cheek because he tries to pretend he's disgusted by the infection but his red cheeks tell a different story.

Byrough ( Bill/Will )- Bill being awkward and shy but he adores Will and his drawing,the two go on dates and draw eachother,cheek kisses is a must. Bill has so many drawing of Will he does while in class when he should be working.Will always draws Bill as a super hero and makes cute sappy names for him.Bill loves also carrying Will on his back when he's tired,he likes petting Will's hair,Will doesn't mind since it kinda relaxes him.

Byuris ( Stan/Will ) - the softest one indeed, Stan and Will don't ever really separate. Will and Stan love scrapbooking together,and while stan bird-watches Will draws the bird for Stan. Will and Stan hold onto or link arms and hands when they go to places.If Stan gets sad Will is always there to comfort him and tell him how much he's worth to him. Stan always hugs Will when he has an episode and is upset and will pull him into his lap an sing him to sleep.

Bylon ( Mike Hanlon/ Will ) - Mike is very strong so he sometimes carries Will on his shoulders or back. Will loves singing songs and going to the farm with Mike. He likes the sheep and him and Mike named a sheep for them both, a lamb that was recently born called Clash based on Will's favorite band. Will sucks at farming but Mike let's him try just to give him a kiss on his head or nose when he does it right!