Chapter Text
Chance had a bad habit of being late to things; school, appointments, dates, games, everything, really. So, it was no surprise that he was also late moving into his new dorm on campus. In his defense, moving most of your belongings across state lines was a pain in the ass, especially when you had no one to help you.
After a few frantic calls to the admissions office, guaranteeing he was in fact on his way, he arrived a whopping two days late. His car was stuffed full, and his body was exhausted from the stress and long drive. He’d driven through the night in order to not arrive even later than he already was.
Needless to say, he was worn out and drained as he reached his dorm room: 514. He used his newly acquired key to open the door. The lights were off, and his roommate was nowhere to be found, but he knew he had one. His things were decorating the right side of the room, and he was a major nerd from the looks of things.
Chance couldn’t help but chuckle at the fantasy posters littering his wall. One of them caught his eye, it was different from the rest, an actual painting—handmade from the looks of it. It was dorky like the others, but beautiful, and made with lots of care. He couldn’t seem to drag his eyes away, but he had to. His car wasn’t going to unpack itself.
It took him about four hours to haul all his things from his car up to the fifth floor of the dormitory. By the time he was done, he barely had enough energy to put sheets on his single bed before he passed out on top of it, un-showered and dirty but too tired to care.
His dreams were indistinguishable, dark and shapeless, as they often were when it came to the deep slumber that would only come with true exhaustion. He was comfortable and warm, drifting in that deep abyss of consciousness. He would’ve comfortably stayed in it too—for days if he was allowed—but life wasn’t so kind to him.
“What the fuck?!” He heard a voice shout.
Chance’s eyes flew open and he shot up as quickly as possible in his sleep addled state. It took his eyes a few seconds to focus, and once they did it only brought him even more confusion because the person standing before him was none other than… Mike Wheeler?
What the fuck?
When he left Hawkins behind in the rear-view mirror of his car yesterday, he did not expect to get such a stark reminder of it again so soon.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Mike spat, voice grating on Chance’s rapidly thinning patience. If there’s one thing he hated, it was being woken up unnecessarily, especially by an annoying twat like Wheeler.
Chance flopped back down on his bed, covering his heavy-lidded eyes with his hands, taking a moment to breathe. What kind of shitty luck did he have? First, he missed move-in day and all the events that came with it, second, out of all the hundreds of incoming freshmen, he had to be paired up with Mike Wheeler of all people?
What could he have possibly done to deserve this?
“Hello?! Earth to moron?”
Chance’s jaw clenched dangerously, the only thing that stopped him from getting up and punching him was the lethargy weighing down his limbs. Also, starting off your school year by assaulting your roommate would be a bad look, no matter how much he deserved it. “What does it look like I’m doing, Wheeler?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re the one who’s invading my room!”
“Right, because I totally knew that you’d be my roommate. Though, I should’ve known based off the,” he gestured vaguely to Mike’s side of the room, “nerd shit covering your walls.”
Mike’s mouth fell open in offense. “Okay, this is not happening. I don’t care what you have to do but there’s no way in hell you’re staying here.”
Chance didn’t even twitch, staying exactly where he was, comfortably reclining on his bed. “Nah, I just spent the last four hours hauling my shit up here, I’m not moving. If you have such a problem with it, you’re free to leave though. Do us both a favor.”
“I was here first and unlike you—actually moved in on time!”
“I really don’t care. I already said I’m not leaving so it looks like you’ll just have to get used to me. Who knows, maybe some of my charm will rub off on you and you’ll finally stop being such a dork?”
Mike’s face looked like an interesting mixture of shocked and outraged. He probably didn’t know what to do with such a firm denial, and pussy that he was, wouldn’t do anything about it either.
Just as he suspected, he stood there awkwardly for a moment, mouth dumbly hanging open, before he let out an angry huff and turned around to riffle through his things until he found his walkman, pulling on the headphones and sitting at his desk. Chance could practically see the waves of anger coming off him, and he couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight.
Let him stew all he wanted, Chance was serious. He’d rather suffer through rooming with Wheeler than backdown to him for anything. He smiled, turned back on his stomach, and shuffled around until he got comfortable and promptly fell back to sleep.
He awoke hours later to the feeling of his stomach grumbling, a painful reminder that his last meal was over twenty-four hours ago. He groaned and peeked open his eyes to find the room dimly lit. Dark besides the lamp sat atop Wheeler’s desk, partially obscured by the man himself sitting hunched over it; his shoulders were tense, clearly having noticed him stirring awake.
“So, you decided to be my roomie after all?” Chance teased as he sat up from bed, stretching out his sore arms up above his head in that satisfying way that left him a little breathless.
“Not like you’re leaving me much of a choice.” Mike answered, voice clipped.
“I gave you a choice, you just refused to take it.” Chance couldn’t hide the amusement in his voice. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, teasing Wheeler was much too easy and entertaining. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”
“Only if you leave me alone.”
“Aw, you don’t wanna be my friend?”
Mike was looking firmly at his desk, still refusing to even spare him a glance, but Chance could practically see the sneer that was without a doubt plastered on his face. He smiled, amused, before looking at the time on his unwilling roommate’s digital alarm clock: 8:30, nice, he still had enough time to make it to the dining hall for dinner. He reached down to pull on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and called out, “later, loser!” Before he closed the door behind him and left Mike alone to continue wallowing in his own misery.
After a month, he was more or less settled into his new life on campus. His days consisted of early morning workouts, classes throughout the day, and evening basketball practice. He had very little free time—to say the least—but he was enjoying it regardless. Making new friends, going out to frat parties on the weekends, being away from his overbearing parents and away from Hawkins and all reminders of it—well, nearly all of them. His roommate was the only thing that dampened his college experience so far.
The rare times throughout the day he’d stop by their room, he was always there, clacking away on his typewriter. He’d rarely acknowledge his presence and would straight up ignore his attempts to taunt him. It was all becoming quite boring.
“Do you ever do anything but sit here?” He asked one Friday night as he sat idly at his own desk, finishing up some homework before he planned to head out with a few of his teammates to the closest party they could find.
Like usual, the dork ignored him.
“Doesn’t it get boring?” Chance continued, undeterred. “Never going out? Never partying? Never—”
“Don’t you ever get bored of bothering me?!” Mike snapped, slamming his hand down angrily on his desk, turning to look at him with a frankly hilarious looking scowl on his face.
“Not really, no.” He giggled.
Mike opened his mouth, no doubt about to yell at him some more, when he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Mike froze at the sound, all fight leaving his body.
“Wow, is that for you, Michael? Someone finally come to visit you?”
“Shut the hell up.” Mike muttered through gritted teeth. “You better keep your mouth shut, or better yet—leave!”
Interesting. Wheeler looked serious, even more than usual, whoever was at the door was important to him.
There was another soft knock. Chance smirked, shot up and rushed to the door before Mike could even process what had happened. He heard a sharp and panicked, “hey!” as he swung the door open on the dork’s mystery visitor.
Oh.
“Zombie boy?”
The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of him, massive and alarmed. Before he could say anything more, he heard Mike’s frantic footsteps coming up behind him, but he reacted quickly and shut the door tight against his own body; not allowing Mike to get through and cut this interaction short.
“Mike? What—?”
“Chance, move! This isn’t funny!” Mike called out, trying and failing to pry the door the rest of the way open. Chance found it extremely funny; maybe if he did more than sit on his ass all day, he’d have been able to.
Even as Mike struggled behind him, not once did he take his eyes off the familiar boy in front of him, and yeah—this was zombie boy alright. Will… Will Byers. He’d heard stories about him the minute he’d moved to Hawkins in his freshman year. He swore he was a tall tale everyone made up, but then he’d shown up the following year. He was shocked when he saw him. From the stories and the name, he expected him to look like a dead man walking, something straight from purgatory itself, but he was anything but. Zombie boy? More like angel boy, he’d stupidly thought.
Looking at him now though, he couldn’t help but agree with his younger self. He was somehow even more beautiful now—the long months since graduation doing him wonders.
His face had lost some of the baby fat of youth, and he’d gained some muscle, his exposed arms now decently defined. Even then, he still had the boyish charm that he used to—eyes as round and expressive as ever. He also still had the same fluffy and soft-looking bowl-cut others poked fun at, but Chance secretly loved.
His demeanor was different too. Where he was all awkward fumbling and shy insecurity before, he now seemed at home in his own body, filled with confidence and self-assurance that was unfamiliar but suited him greatly. He met his eyes defiantly in a way he never would’ve before. Chance really, really liked it.
If Will was growing anxious at the attention, he didn’t show it. “…Chance? What are you doing here?”
“Turns out I’m your buddy's new roommate, isn’t that funny?” Will didn’t respond, so he continued, “I couldn’t believe it either, seeing someone from Hawkins all the way out here, and now zombie boy himself? It’s a small world after all.”
Will’s lip twisted, “Don’t call me that.”
His first instinct was to not listen, to latch onto that boundary and continue to poke at it until he got him to explode. Weirdly enough, he didn’t want to do that. He wanted to see him relaxed rather than angry. “…Sure, whatever you say, man.”
Will looked disbelieving and when Chance smiled at him, he didn’t smile back. “Can you open the door now?”
He really didn’t want to. “Sure.” He said anyway, stepping back and allowing Mike to reach his friend. He rolled his eyes at his overly concerned questions, asking Will if he was alright, if Chance said anything, did anything to hurt him. As if that was even possible with the way he had his hands braced behind the door and its frame.
Chance grabbed his homework from his desk and sat on his bed instead, so he could keep him in his line of sight. He sat with Mike on his bed, their conversation hushed and stilted, clearly uncomfortable with his presence. And as much as he wanted to continue looking at zomb—Will, he couldn’t stand the suspicious looks they kept sending him for long. He slammed his book closed, startling them. “I’m going out. Don’t party too hard while I’m gone.”
Neither of them responded, not that he expected anything different. He pulled on the rest of his clothes and quickly made his way out of the oppressing atmosphere of the room.
It became a routine, every Friday Will would come by to see his disaster of a roommate, at no sooner than eight o’clock, right as Chance left with his friends to party. They timed it that way on purpose, he was sure of it. Not that he minded, he was sure they must be together or something, and he really didn’t want to see that. Not because he was a bigot though, but because the thought of Mike’s loser ass somehow pulling such a pretty boy like Will was deeply disturbing and unsettling to him.
It may have been a large conclusion to leap to, but he remembered the way they were in high school; constantly attached at the hip. That in combination with Mike never having had a girlfriend and the long-believed queer rumors about Will… there was only so many conclusions you could reach.
He never judged them for that though, seeing as he was half-queer himself. Nobody knew it, but it was an intrinsic part of him he’d grown to accept, especially being away from Hawkins and all the small-minded and old-fashioned people that lived there.
As a result of this though, he’d only ever see Will in passing. Shooting him goodbyes as he left while resolutely ignoring his roommate. Will would just look at him uncertainly and not respond. Chance couldn’t blame him; in high school their friends saw each other as enemies, so it made sense it’d take him a while to warm up.
A few weeks into this routine, and a whole two and a half months since starting school, there was an anomaly.
He had returned from practice, body aching in that satisfying way that came after heavy workouts. He walked out from the elevator and was shocked to see someone sitting in front of his dorm room.
He had his head buried in between his knees, but Chance would recognize that soft brown mop of hair anywhere. “Byers?”
He looked up but quickly looked away, running his hands through his hair nervously. “Uh, hey.”
“What are you doing here?” It was a whole two hours before he usually showed up, an hour before Mike got home from his final class of the day.
“I… I was just waiting for Mike; I guess his class is running late today.”
“His class always ends at seven on Friday’s.” Not that he gave a fuck what classes he had or how long they ran, but rooming with someone for months usually meant you’d learn their schedule regardless of if you wanted to or not.
“Oh. I must’ve forgot.” He was still sitting against the wall, looking intently at the floor in front of him. Was something wrong?
“C’mon, I’ll let you in.”
Will hesitated for a moment but slowly stood up. Chance didn’t move, keeping his eyes on the boy until he finally looked up at him, and fuck, he’d been crying. Eyes puffy and red-rimmed. “Hey, are you okay?”
Will stayed quiet with eyes downcast again, his hand was clenching around his backpack strap, uncomfortable.
“Did something happen?” He asked again, worried.
“Uh…” Will looked down the hallway as if he was contemplating leaving.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Chance rushed to say, hoping it’d stop him from running off. “Just, come in.”
He opened the door, letting Will in first before closing the door behind them. He put his water bottle and gym bag down on his desk as Will sat awkwardly on Mike’s bed.
True to his word; Chance didn’t question him further, though he desperately wanted to, especially when he heard the occasional sniffle. “Hey, uh, are you hungry? I have some extra snacks if you want some?”
Will looked at him, still a bit wary. He shook his head, “no, thank you.”
“You sure? I have a whole box of these.” He said while holding up a box of peanut butter boppers.
After a few seconds, Will relented, “… okay, sure.”
“Atta boy.” He reached into the box, tossing one over to him before grabbing one for himself. He sat on his own bed, facing Will and watched as he inspected the package in his hands—as if he was shocked that he’d actually given him one.
Chance had eaten his by the time Will finally took a bite. He watched him do it, feeling a strange contentment at the sight.
“You like it?”
“Uh, yeah, I used to eat these a few years ago.” After a beat, “thanks for giving me one.”
Fuck, he was so adorable. “No problem, man. It seemed like you needed it. God knows I always do after practice.”
“You’re playing basketball here too, then?”
“Yeah! No way in hell I would’ve gotten in otherwise.” Chance said, laughing. “My grades were only ever good enough to keep me on the team.”
Will nodded. It didn’t look like he knew what else to say, so Chance asked, “what about you? Do you go to school here too?”
“Oh, no. I go to an art school, it’s only like a thirty-minute train ride away, though.”
“Art school? That’s awesome, dude.” Will’s face fell a little, as if he wasn’t sure Chance was being genuine or not. “Are you the one who painted that then?” He pointed to the dragon painting he was initially so drawn in by when he’d first moved in.
Will turned to look, but once he did, he looked away quickly, as if burned. “Um, yeah, that was me.”
“You’re so talented, man! I may not get all the nerd shit, but even I can admit it’s pretty rad.”
Will blushed, which sent a rush of heat through Chance’s body. He really liked seeing him blush—he vowed to get him to do it some more.
“Thanks. I made it so long ago, I think I have much better work now.”
“Wow, I’d love to see it.” He meant it too, strangely enough, even though he has never been the type to give a fuck about art, in any form. “You make paintings like this for all your friends?”
Will flushed again, but this time it seemed to be from embarrassment, which wasn’t as enjoyable as before. “No… only Mike.”
Oh. Probably because they were boyfriends then. A valentine's gift maybe? Nerds would probably appreciate that more than the traditional roses and box of chocolates. “I see. Well, lucky him then.”
Will’s mouth fell open a little in shock, but before he had the chance to analyze his expression further, there was the sound of a key opening the front door.
Chance nearly groaned as he heard Mike’s alarmed voice call out, “Will! What’re you doing here? Are you okay?” He beelined toward him, checking him over.
“Yeah, I’m okay, Mike. Sorry… something happened earlier and I wanted to see you. I forgot your class ended so late.”
“What happened?”
Will glanced at Chance, and if he could do anything, it was take a hint. “Ah, I’m so hungry. I’m gonna go get something to eat. See you dorks later.” He announced as he got up from his bed. Will sent him a grateful look, which eased the annoyance of being kicked out of his own room.
Let them figure out their relationship problems or whatever it may be on their own.
Things went back to their usual routine after that, except now when Chance would greet Will on his way out, he would respond with a small, “bye,” and a barely there smile. It wasn’t much, but it was progress. It also had the added bonus of pissing Mike off, which Chance always enjoyed.
Except, a few weeks later, he came back from his practice on Friday and found Will outside their room again. Eyes downcast, knees pulled to his chest, and a pair of headphones covering his ears. As he approached, he looked up at him, pulling them down. He wasn’t crying, but he could tell he had been. His adorable downturned eyes looking extra miserable and swollen.
“Hey dude, you okay?”
Will nodded. “Yeah, sorry.”
“Did you forget about his class again?”
“No, I just wanted to get away, didn’t know where else to go.”
Chance’s heart doesn’t squeeze in sympathy for many things, but Will sitting here sad and alone certainly did it.
“Don’t worry about it, man. Seems like Mike should just give you your own key at this point, anyway.”
“Sorry, you’re probably sick of seeing me by now.”
“I didn’t say I minded.” Chance said it with what he knew was his most charming smile. Will’s eyes widened, but he didn’t look away—maintained eye contact even though his cheeks were now nicely flushed. Chance couldn’t help but be proud, he still got it.
He offered his hand out to Will, “come on, Byers.”
He looked at it for a moment but then accepted his offered hand, allowing Chance to help him pull him up to his feet.
They settled into the dorm room, Chance grabbing two peanut butter boppers from his desk, tossing one to Will before tearing his open. He looked surprised but pleased and Chance was eternally grateful to his past self for remembering to buy a brand-new box earlier in the week.
“So, what were you listening to?”
“Hm?”
“On your walkman.” He pointed to it, now laying beside Will on the bed.
“Oh, uh, you wanna know?”
“Yeah, I’m curious what you listen to.”
He hesitated, “it’s The Cure.”
“Ah, that’s that goth band, right? With the makeup and crazy hair?” Chance didn’t really know what kind of music Will would listen to, he hardly knew anything about music himself, but The Cure wasn’t exactly what he pictured. His friends sure—especially Mike—but Will was so cute and innocent looking. At the very least, he was sure the people who listened to bands like that would wear a hell of a lot more black.
“Yeah.” There was an edge to Will’s gaze, as if he was challenging him to make fun of him for it.
“That’s cool, man. I’m surprised you listen to them.” His eyes sharpened and Chance instantly rushed to correct himself. “Not in a bad way! You just look so… soft.”
Will let out a sharp and surprised laugh, it was genuine and lovely, and he was immediately addicted to the sound. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know, you’re just so cute. You remind me of a small fluffy bunny or something. And I thought people who listened to music like that were…” His first instinct was to say freaks, but he knew that was mean and wouldn’t go over well so he quickly wracked his brain for a better word. “Mysterious. You know, the type to wear eyeliner and shit.”
Will still looked amused, but he now had a pretty blush dusting his cheeks. He liked being called cute then. Good to know. “So, you’re saying that I’m not mysterious and cool?”
“Not at all.” He playfully said with a chuckle. “Well, never mind, you are mysterious. You were so quiet in school; I would always wonder what you were thinking.”
“I didn’t realize I was on your mind that much.”
He was teasing him, but Chance never backed down in life, especially when it came to a pretty person he liked. He leaned forward, raised his eyebrows suggestively, and said, “like you wouldn’t believe.”
Will’s flush darkened, and he looked away, losing their unestablished staring competition. “So, I’m mysterious but not cool, then?”
“Jury’s still out. I guess you’ll have to let me listen to that music of yours, then I’ll decide.”
“Since you’re the arbiter of cool-ness?”
“Of course, just look at me!” His comfortable post-practice shower clothing were actually not cool in the slightest, a bit raggedy and thin from constant overuse but that just seemed to amuse Will further, so he considered it a win regardless.
“If you insist…” Will grabbed his walkman and joined him on his bed. It was surreal and exciting to see him sitting there for once. He was close enough that Chance could feel the warmth of his body, he wanted to reach out and touch so badly.
“Oh wait!” Will sprang off his bed, and started digging through Mike’s desk, riffling through his drawers until he made a victorious ‘aha’ sound and returned holding a y-jack cable and an extra set of headphones. He got back on the bed, this time kicking his shoes off and sitting cross-legged next to Chance, this new position causing his knee to be pressed up against his thigh. It was great. He connected everything to the walkman, before handing Mike’s headphones to him. “This way we can both listen.”
He took the headphones and put them on around his neck as he watched Will take the tape out and flip it around. “Okay, this album is called ‘Disintegration.’ It came out a few years ago but it’s a favorite of mine.”
As they sat there listening together, Will would eagerly tell him when one of his favorites was playing—which was damn near every song—but Chance had to admit, they were good. Not what he was used to in the slightest; moody and dark, but strangely enjoyable. He wasn’t sure if he’d listen to it on his own, but sitting here with Will, seeing his eyes light up as he softly mouthed along to the lyrics, now that he could do more of. Whenever Will wanted to.
They’d relaxed into it, leaning back against the wall, arms and legs pressed together as they listened—lost to the world around them. They both jumped in surprise when Mike walked into the room, bursting the bubble of calm that had formed around them.
“Will!” Mike exclaimed, his eyes moved rapidly between them, as if he couldn’t quite make sense of what he was seeing. “What’re you guys doing?”
Will looked a little embarrassed, playing with the wires of the headphones. “I got here early again; Chance let me in and asked me to show him what I was listening to…”
Mike looked dumbstruck. “Since when do you care about music?” He asked Chance, his expression giving away just how unhappy he was with this.
“Since I saw Will listening to it.” He said simply, with a carefree smile he knew would further aggravate the dork.
“What?”
“He also asked me to determine whether he was cool or not, his music taste was the determining factor.”
“Hey, I didn’t ask!” Will cut in, playfully annoyed.
“Really? So, you don’t want to know what my expert conclusion was?”
“You haven’t even listened to the whole tape yet, and one album is hardly an accurate portrayal of my music taste.” They were smiling at each other playfully, forgetting that Mike was there watching them.
“You’re right. I guess you’ll have to show me even more then.”
“What the hell?” Mike muttered to himself, drawing their attention back to him. He looked absolutely appalled by what he was witnessing. Which, fair. Flirting with his boyfriend right in front of him was maybe a step too far—for someone other than him.
Mike pointed at his headphones which were now held in Chance’s hands, his face morphed into an even more intense frown than before. “Are those my headphones?”
“Yeah, sorry, I thought it’d be okay.” Will explained, sheepishly.
Mike strode over to Chance, ripping them from his hands. “Well, it’s not! If this jackass wants to listen to your music so badly, he can buy his own pair.”
“Sure, I’ll buy some tomorrow.”
“Wait, you don’t have to do that. I have another pair at my dorm.”
“Oh yeah? Just for me?” He said it with one of his cocky smirks, teasing.
Will rolled his eyes but was still smiling. “No. It’s my backup pair but I’ll allow you to use them, in the pursuit of culturing you.”
“I think I’m plenty cultured already.”
Will made a disbelieving sound, which was accompanied by one of the cutest scrunched-up faces Chance has ever had the pleasure of witnessing. “Mm, I’m not too sure about that. ‘Jock’ and ‘cultured’ don’t exactly go together.”
“Maybe I’m the exception.”
“… Jury’s still out on that.” They gave each other matching smiles; Will’s was so adorably genuine it made his chest ache. There wasn’t a single trace of the sadness he’d been consumed with when he found him earlier, he couldn’t help the flicker of pride he felt for accomplishing that.
Mike, annoyance that he was, cleared his throat, reminding them of his existence.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get the point. I’ll leave you guys to it.” Chance got up from his bed, reaching into his closet for some nicer looking clothing, and unceremoniously changed in front of them.
“What the fuck, dude?!” Mike shouted in that annoyingly shrill voice of his.
“What? You want me to leave, don’t you?” He finished buttoning up his jeans, then tossed his discarded clothing in his hamper.
“Yeah, but did you have to change right in front of us?”
“I change in front of you all the time, Wheeler. Why’re you being such a pussy about it now?”
“Because Will’s here!”
He looked at him and he was looking away, cheeks dusted pink. Chance smirked, “he doesn’t seem to mind.” Will’s eyes snapped back to him at that and he winked, smile stretching at the pink turning to a full-blown shade of red. “Later, Byers.”
“Bye, Chance.”
Two weeks later Chance woke up to a brutal hangover; his stomach felt like it was tittering on the edge of emptying its contents, with the added horror of a pounding headache and dizzying vertigo.
Fuck, he regretted drinking so much last night. It was hard not to when Will had come by the night before looking incredibly adorable, as usual. He had greeted him with a genuine smile and a small wave. It had honestly hurt to leave him behind with his loser of a roommate. It’d been that way the past few weeks now, a new development that pointed to his attraction being something a little more serious than he was used to.
It also had had the added consequence of worsening his living situation with Mike. Every little thing he did irked him to no end. The way he’d sit clacking away at his typewriter for hours on end, the self-righteous way he’d look at him when he woke up late or came home drunk, his ugly glasses and ugly haircut and terrible fashion sense… it made no sense that he had a guy like Will. It had to be because they were childhood friends. He locked him down early before Will could find better, maybe? Greedy fucker.
Blessedly, his horrible start to the day didn’t worsen with the sight of Mike Wheeler’s face. When he finally worked up the strength to open his eyes, he found the room empty and quiet — he breathed out a sigh of relief.
It took a tremendous amount of effort but after a while of laying on his bed in miserable despair, he’d worked up the courage to drag himself out of bed, go shower, and eat. It’d been about an hour since then, and he was thankfully starting to feel better. He was back in his room, lazing around, when he heard a soft knock at his door.
Thinking it was one of his friends, he got up and went to open it. As he did, his heart skipped a beat at the sight. It was concerning how this boy could make him react this way without even saying a word.
His eyes looked tired and sad, but he was still so beautiful, wearing a tiny friendly smile on his face as he gazed up at him through his unreasonably long and pretty lashes.
“Oh, hey Chance. Is Mike here?”
His returning smile dropped a bit at that, of course he was here to see his boyfriend and not him. Will was clearly upset though, maybe they were having relationship problems again? “No, sorry dude. He’s been out all morning.”
“Oh.” His face fell in a devastating way. As if he’d been struggling to tread water and his lifeline failed to save him.
“Do you still want to come in?”
“You’d let me?”
Let him? God, he’d beg him to. “Yeah! We can hang out or something, until he comes back?”
“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” He meant it too, his expression looked much brighter than it had a second ago. Damn, he hoped Mike would take his sweet time wherever the fuck he currently was, better yet, that he’d never return at all.
They sat down across from each other on their respective beds, Will munching on the bopper Chance had passed him without asking. When he was done, they settled into comfortable silence.
“Did you wanna talk about what’s upsetting you?” It was a risk, but one Chance was willing to take. He was tired of seeing him so sad over a guy who didn’t deserve it.
He instantly tensed, hesitated but said, “it’s nothing really. Just stupid bullshit.”
“If it was stupid, it wouldn’t be upsetting you so badly.”
“I guess…”
“Is it Mike?”
Will seemed genuinely stunned at the question. “What?”
“Like, is he being a shit boyfriend or something?”
“What?” If he was stunned before, he looked absolutely bewildered now. Chance was feeling similarly, was that really such a wild conclusion to come to?
“I don’t know, I just thought since you’re always showing up here crying that he might be neglecting you or something.”
His eyes were huge, cute lips parted in shock as he stared at Chance. “You think… you think we’re together?”
“Aren’t you?”
“You seriously thought that? This whole time?”
“…Yeah.” So, does this mean they aren’t together? Does he have a chance?
“And you didn’t care?”
“About what?”
“The gay thing?”
“Nah, I’m half gay too actually.” It felt strange to say it out loud for the first time, but… right. He knew Will wouldn’t judge him for it and he wanted him to know.
“You’re… what?”
“Half gay, like, I like both.”
“You mean bisexual?”
“Is that what it’s called?”
Will honest to god laughed, a full-bodied laugh that sounded equal parts amused, disbelieving, and… relieved? “Are you being serious right now?”
“Uh, yeah.”
He was smiling, it was unlike any of the others he’d received from him so far; so sweet and so beautiful, Chance never wanted to look away. “Have you ever told anyone that before?”
“No, you’re the first.”
“Wow, well thank you for telling me.” He really meant it, the look in his eyes was so grateful and sincere. He also knew the weight a secret like that carried.
“Do people know about you?”
He nodded. “Most of the people that are close to me.”
“They all took it well?”
“Yeah, actually.”
Hearing that lifted a weight off Chance’s chest that he hadn’t even realized had been there. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to have a community around you who’d accept you for that. He lived life knowing that if he ever fell in love with the gender the world found unacceptable that he’d have to give up most, if not all of the people around him. It was good to know that wasn’t always the case—even better to know that Will had that. That he could have it too one day. “That’s… that’s really great, Will.”
They sat in silence for a moment, Chance still processing what he’d just been told. Will’s voice pulled him out of it. “You really thought me and Mike were together?”
“So, you’re not?”
“No! He’s my best friend!”
This was the greatest day of his life. “So, you’re single?”
Will giggled, “no, I am seeing someone.”
Fuck. Never mind, this day sucked. “Oh?”
“Yeah, his name is Carlton. I met him at school.”
Chance couldn’t hold back his laugh. “Carlton? That’s an ugly name.”
Will gasped, scandalized, but not defensive for his boyfriend. If anything, he looked amused. Interesting. “What? It’s not that bad!”
“It’s pretty bad, poor parents must’ve hated the guy.”
“Hey! That’s my boyfriend you know.”
“Yeah, one who’s always making you cry.”
That sucked all the amusement from Will, his expression turning sullen.
“I’m right, aren’t I? He’s the reason you come here sad?”
Will nodded.
“What does he do?” Chance’s hands were already clenching into fists. Whoever this Charlton fucker was, he clearly didn’t deserve the angel of a boy in front of him. Depending on what Will told him next, he may have to go to their campus and hunt him down for the beating of a lifetime.
“He… he just doesn’t really understand me sometimes. It causes us to argue.”
“But Mike understands you?”
“Yeah, we’ve been friends since kindergarten.”
Chance hummed. “Why’re you with him then and not Mike?”
“Mike’s not like that. Like me.”
Chance begged to differ, either here or in Hawkins, he’d never seen him even remotely interested in a girl. Plus, all of his weird possessiveness, getting angry at Chance for even breathing in Will’s direction. He understood it—even though he disregarded it—when he thought they were together, but now? “You sure? I mean, I was convinced you guys were together this whole time.”
Will giggled, “yes! I think you’re just dumb.”
Chance gasped, full of fake offense. “Hey! I resent that! I’m in this big fancy school, aren’t I?”
“Which you yourself said was only because you play basketball well.”
“Wow, you’re really betraying me with the personal information I trusted you with. I can’t believe this.”
Will was laughing now, full-bodied and carefree, gone were any traces of the sadness his stupid boyfriend left him with. Chance smiled as he watched him.
“Can I ask you something?” Will asked, once his laughter tapered out.
“Go for it.”
“Why’re you so nice to me?”
“Should I not be?”
“I just mean, you didn’t really acknowledge me in school. And you’re pretty mean to Mike.”
“Because he’s annoying.”
“And I’m not?”
“Not at all.” He looks right into Will’s pretty hazel eyes as he says it, and Will holds his gaze. After a bit, he grows embarrassed, looking away, flushed. God, he was too cute.
“I thought you hated us all.”
“Nah, I never hated you.”
“Even back in Hawkins?”
“No.” He says simply but then thinks about it a little more and amends his answer. “Well, you did kind of annoy me back then.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because I thought you were so pretty.”
Will chokes, cheeks blazing. “What?”
“Yeah, here’s this boy I’m supposed to hate. He hangs out with the towns supposed devil-worshippers but he’s so quiet and sweet and looks like an angel. Drove me a little crazy.”
“…Are you joking?”
“No.”
They stared at each other; room filled with a new and exciting tension, growing thicker by the second. The look in Will’s eyes was intoxicating; he looked pleased and interested. Chance knew what it meant, and just as he was about to cross the room to get to him, the door banged open, destroying the golden opportunity he’d had.
Of fucking course it’s Mike Wheeler who comes casually strolling in, holding a stack full of books like the utter fucking dork he was. Chance flops back on his bed, groaning and rubbing at his temples, headache returning tenfold. That fucking asshole had to ruin everything good in his life.
“Will!” He had the audacity to sound concerned.
“Hey Mike.” Chance peeked his eye open, saw that Will was still flushed a pretty pink, and Mike was looking at him weirdly because of it.
“Are you okay? Did something happen again?”
“What? Ye-yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to see you.”
Gross. Chance got up, not wanting to witness this. They may not be together, but that didn’t mean he liked seeing them interacting like this. He put his shoes on and grabbed his gym bag, he was frustrated and annoyed, so he may as well go to the gym to burn off some of his excess energy. “Bye, pretty boy.”
As usual, Mike looked disgusted and Will’s flush deepened. “Bye Chance,” he said, with an adorable smile and small wave.