Work Text:
Will lays in the comfort of his bed, sketch book laying haphazardly on the sheets as he lazily doodles about. The day is boring, but that's an everyday thing at this point with the new suburbs he now lives in giving him no one to talk to. He misses his friends, misses the town despite it being nothing but horrendous. He misses Mike, misses his soft voice rippling out his walkie. He wants to hear the static crackle in the distance and the fuzzy voices of him and the rest of the gang escaping it.
He still has the walkie out on his nightstand dreaming that maybe, just maybe, the distance isn't that far for Mike to radio in, but he knows it's just his delusion. Will likes Lenora, or tries to at least. He likes his new home as it's spacey, and having a whole new set up is refreshing. He can finally live comfortably after years of struggling— and wonders how the party would look filling up his room, seeing them all confined doing whatever the hell they want.
His sketchbook page is filled with various drawings of each of the party members, the fine details on them from how much Will misses them. He wants to go back, wants to see them. Mike doesn't send that many letters anymore, which is fine, but it hurts. Mike isn't obligated to send him anything, but Will thinks that them being best friends would set him above the standard. He begins to wallow in his sorrow, eyes about to water but is interrupted by a soft knock on his door.
"Hey bud, are you busy?" Jonathan's muffled voice is heard from the other side. Will scrambles up, closing his sketchbook and wiping his eyes.
"No, come in," Will says, clearing his throat. The door creaks open and Jon steps in. He enters awkwardly like he's never been in Will's room before. It's weird but Will doesn't comment.
"Umm, I was wondering if you wanted to drive around? Just us," Jon says with a soft tone, almost hesitant. Will stares at him for a second. He's confused. Jonathan and him haven't hung out together in a while. After everything that happened, Will pulled back. The chaos of his life had been too much, and with the new isolation of not knowing anything, his motivation to “put himself out there” was less than pleasing.
Jonathan shifts in place, huffing out a deep sigh and opening his mouth. "Look, I just miss you, bud. I miss hanging out with you, and this new place is overwhelming. I wanna explore it, see what places we can find… I want my baby brother to talk to me again." He sounds hurt and it makes Will's heart pang with guilt. Being consumed in his own mind of regret and aching he forgot how hard it must be for Jonathan as well — the whole family. Leaving behind a town where it was their whole life, a piece of themselves always in unfortunate Hawkins. Will sits up straighter and is about to talk but Jonathan starts again.
"A-and I know you're growing up so you want space, teen age years, I get it, trust me. And with everything that happened in Hawkins I can see why you might be scared to explore, but… I want you to know I'm always here. If you ever need anything you know where to find me… I mean we do live in the same house." Jonathan paces back and forth, chewing on his nails nervously. Will can see all the tension build up in shoulders like he was asking for the most obscene thing.
Will softens. Jonathan always overthinks everything, a shared trait they have. Will stands up from the bed, walks up to Jonathan, and gives him a big, tight hug. Wraps his arms around his body and tucks his head in his chest. He has a way of hugging people, with tenderness and love.
"I would love that Jon. I miss you too. I'm sorry for-"
"Nuh-uh, don't apologize for anything. It's okay. Lets just get ready okay?" Will pulls back and gives him a small nod.
"I’ll give you 20 minutes to get ready… I'm gonna prepare to start the car." Will thinks 20 minutes is an awfully long time for Jonathan to give him but then he remembers the beat up tattered car, about to fall apart any second by now. Okay, maybe it's not that bad but it's seen way better days. Will doesn't question it. He puts on the same old jeans and striped shirt that he's been loving recently.
After a bit, Jonathan calls Will from the front of the house to get in the car. They sit inside the vehicle and Will can feel the excitement build inside him. It's nice to be with Jonathan, remembering the early times in his childhood where Jon would sneak them both out late at night and drive them around. The cold fresh wind hitting his face, the soft muffled song Jon played drifting into the back, just the two of them escaping the cruel home their father created. He never told his mom this; she thought Will was in Jon's room, distracted from the shouts and loud clattering of plates being thrown. He misses that. Not his father, no, but him and Jon fleeing into nothingness — trying to forget the brutality of their lives.
"We can drive around all day if you like, go to shops and find new things to get. Maybe even find hidden areas, drive in the outskirts. Free game for all," Jonathan says with enthusiasm, his eyes making a crescent shape. Will smiles back beaming at the ideas, but realization hits. Drive around all day? Shops? Outskirts? All these sound wonderful but the gas? The money? How can they afford that? Look, Will knows they do have the money to spoil themselves a bit but that's their mom’s money.
And he knows damn well both him and Jon don't have the earnings to buy really anything. Jonathan sees Will’s face drop with concern and tilts his head, his smile also dropping.
"What's wrong bud?"
"Oh, um. How are we going to afford the gas to drive around for so long… to shop... and stuff." Will looks down as he fidgets with his fingers a bit and can hear Jonathan laugh softly to himself.
"Why would I invite you to hang out if I don't have the money? Don't worry about it, I saved some money when I had a job back in Hawkins. It's been sitting in a box for months, might as well use it, right? I got you," Jon says with a refreshed smile, and looks at Will's fidgeting hands, nudging at them to stop.
"A-are you sure? I don't want you wasting money on me when you can save it for something important."
"You are important, Will." The silence in the car lingers for a while. It's hard for Will to feel like he matters sometimes as this new life in Lenora is hitting him more than he expected, but he shakes the negative feelings away.
"Okay… let's go have fun then." He hears Jon pleasantly hum and start the car, the engine rumbling in all sorts of tones before it settles into a semi-steady vibration.
Jonathan spots a small film store which he of course pulls right into, the display of various old and new cameras set in the windows enticing. Will can see Jonathan's exhilaration at the mere sight of them. They get out and enter the store, the ring from the bell above the door echoing. There is no one in the store or that's what it seems like, but Wills doesn't mind it, and he thinks Jon doesn't care either because he scurries around, getting lost in the neverending lenses on the shelves.
Will follows behind. He knows the basics about cameras and film from the various rambles and rants that come out of his big brother from time to time. It's no different here with Jonathan on about the new features of these cameras, describing every detail, listing all the pros and cons. It's endearing. The smile that forms on Jon's face is heartwarming and Will thinks about how much Jon hasn't been doing that. He could tell his mood changed into something somber once they moved here. But now? Jon looks like a kid having access to the cookie jar, consuming every camera with reverence.
Will lavishes in Jon's never ending speech of every item he picks up, knowing he won't buy anything from here, as it's very much out of budget. It doesn't matter though, he likes seeing Jon spark with joy. After being in there for a good while surprisingly no one, not even the store clerk, came to check up on them so they left. In the car Jonathan suggests they should find an art store and of course Will nods eagerly.
It takes a bit to find an art store and Will taps his fingers on his lap the whole time, impatience creeping in. When they finally find one, which felt like a year and probably halfway across the world, Will smiles with delight. It might be far away but the art store looks so pretty, the bright saturated colors painting the front of it. Will is itching to go in. He hops out of the car, giddy as he walks towards the doors. When he enters, the strong smell of chemicals hits his nose and Jon scrunches his face from the pungentness of it. In contrast, Will inhales the aroma, a very faint sweet smell of paint in the air that can only be detected by Will spending all his time around it.
Will looks around, seeing the gorgeous tubes of acrylic in every color possible. He passes by to look at the paint brushes with intensity. His passion for art only grew once they moved here, painting almost everyday and getting lost in every brush stroke and mixing of the colors on his palette. He can't wait to see the party again and show them all the new projects he's completed.
"Go crazy, Will. Whatever you want I’ll buy it," Jon says behind him. Will snaps his neck to look at him with shock, because Will didn't really want anything. Okay, he'll admit he's lying as he did want things but everything in here looks quite pricey. Jon pokes his forehead and Will brings his hand up.
"Before you start overthinking, it's okay… Remember I have the money, so please stop with the worrying." Will feels his shoulders go slack, not realizing how stiff he was. With a deep breath and shaking exhale, Will goes back to being lost within the store. He roams around looking at each area with attentiveness, eyeing all the watercolors, acrylic, and oils. He finds himself thinking about what other mediums he can use on his next project.
Will finds himself at the paintbrushes and marvels at how pretty they are and the pristine condition they are in. His at home are quite old though they still have life in them for another year or so. However, with the way he's been painting nonstop they're withering away quickly. He also knows his wonderful paint brushes — which he loves dearly because his mother bought them for him so he'll keep them forever even if there isn't one bristle left — do not compare to the ones in front of him.
He grabs a pack of them and touches the soft bristles with his fingertips, and they are perfect, soft yet sturdy. There is even a grip so he doesn't have to worry about them slipping out his hand. Wow, they are going to last him a long, long time. Will tries to find the price tag on them, because even though Jon said he doesn't care, Will does, and if they are too much he's going to put them back instantly. He's searching and searching, looking at every crevasse to see if any numbers pop out but there is none, and it only worries him more. No price tag? That's a clear warning sign.
He's about to put the paint brushes back but Jon is suddenly next to him. "Those look nice, get them." Will jumps in his spot because he can never hear Jon approach which is quite scary. He starts to chew on his lower lip, wanting to answer back with an excuse of how he doesn't want them but he knows Jon’s stubbornness and steels to just give in. He pushes the brushes in Jon's hand and looks down to his feet.
Jon goes up to the cashier and Will doesn't want to hear the price, so he walks away, putting enough distance so he won't hear the small conversation happening. If he hears the price the guilt may kill him; he's dramatic but oh god. Jon walks up to Will and hands him the brushes that are nicely packed with a bow on it, and that's enough for him to know they were a pretty penny. Jon puts his arm around his shoulders, comforting and stable.
"A slushie sounds so good right now, don't you think? Let's get some, and go back home. I know you want to use those brushes as soon as possible," Jon teases and Will only shakes his head. He does want to use the brushes so badly though, to see how they would blend his work, perfectly airbrushed and refined. Will looks up at Jon and gives him a warm smile before meekly telling him, "Okay."
They decided to go to a gas station that is near their house as it would just be easier that way and they can savor the slushie at home as well. The car ride is beautiful with the windows down, a cool breeze hitting Will's face, hair flying about just like it did in his childhood. The music hums in the background as Jonathan's sings loudly. Jon nudges Will's side and starts singing louder, turning up the volume as it blasts in the car. Will giggles and sings along shyly. He loves this so much, forgetting all the ache he felt before.
They arrive at a gas station and they get out hungrily, the craving for the slushie only having grown stronger the closer they got. Both book it to the slushie machine, Jonathan grabbing the biggest size possible for the both of them, though Will offers to grab something smaller. Not even to save money but because he won't finish it. Still Jon shoves the big cup into Will’s hand and tells him to fill it up. He gets the basic cherry flavor, watching the soft ice rise higher as it grows heavier in his hands. In the corner of his eye he can see Jon mix up random flavors together and he grimaces softly. The overloading of flavors doesn't sound or look appetizing.
"Go look around bud, see what snacks we can get." Will listens and starts to look around each aisle, seeing what treats pick at his craving, though the big ass slushie was enough for the rest of the week he thinks. Nothing really speaks to him if he's being honest, but he goes for the plain salty potato chips, a safe option. It'll balance out the sugary slushie. Will walks around some more and finds himself in the small nook of the beauty section. There isn't much variety as it is a gas station but he ogles it no less.
Will doesn't like to admit it, but he always likes to wander into the small beauty sections in any store. It speaks to him like it's another form of art. He aches for it to be his hands even though he knew it was wrong. A boy liking makeup? He can already hear his dad's voice bubbling in the back of his mind. Will shakes his head trying to ignore everything, moving past the makeup like if he stands there any longer the void of sin would eat him whole. Though in the corner of his eye he spots an assortment of nail polish and his heartbeat begins to quicken. His palms begin to sweat too and the static itchiness engulfs his hand. That's another thing Will always wanted to do: paint his nails.
He would see the girls at school come in with freshly painted manicures, the soft colors and cute designs making his fingertips burn. He would avert his staring and shove those thoughts of want down his throat, snapping back into reality.
There were other times where he would be painting in the silence of his room, messy and unapologetic, hands stained with acrylic and oils then stare at the mess and pause. His eyes would find his nails and he couldn't stop himself, hesitatingly dipping his brush into his palette before painting each and every fingernail. Before they could fully dry the panic would consume him— the voice of his father hammering in his head, the violent, angry overbearing tone etching itself into Will’s mind even after he left when he was 12. The town whispers would grow louder inside his chest, the guilt increasing of knowing they were right about him all long. He'd swiftly sit everything down and bolt to the restroom, scraping his hands with such force it left them raw. He'd see the colors mix into a muddy brown, representing how he felt: dirty.
Will's thoughts come to a harsh halt as Jonathan calls out, walking up next to him, watching him probe at the nail polish. Jon looks at the nail polish then at Will.
"Do you want one?" The question hits him like a bullet. Jonathan knows, can see the craving in Will's eyes. It's a simple innocent question, but to Will it's an accusation. An accusation of the scary reality of who he truly is.
"O-oh n-no, of course not, that's ridiculous. I was just looking, is all… I think they look pretty… I mean cool. No, I don't want… I mean and I'm a boy; boys don't like that stuff… I don't want…. any." Words come out feeble by the end, his eyes wandering everywhere, arms flailing around, the rambled words jumbling together. He was trying his best to sound convincing, but it failed horrendously. When he looks back to Jonathan he freezes. His eyes are soft and gentle, but Will can see the hit of sadness from Will’s words. Will looks down with shame at being caught. For what exactly? For yearning to be himself.
Jonathan puts his arm on his shoulder; the same steady strong grip he always has to ground Will. Will looks up again and meets his warm gaze. Jon rubs circles on his shoulder before he speaks again.
"Are you sure you don't want one?" He presses softly, doesn't even acknowledge Will's ramble, which he is thankful for because it was humiliating. Will doesn't fight back just weakly nods, so weak if Jon wasn't eyeing him so intensely the movement wouldn't have been picked up. Jonathan just smiles before turning to the nail polishes, eyes squinting like he's deep in thought of which one would be the best. He gets the red one off the small shelf before looking at Will again.
"Red is a great color, cool and fierce. Just like you" The compliment makes his skin burn. No words come out his mouth anymore; he wants to leave before his body magically combust. Can't really remember the rest if he's being honest, the anxiety gurgling in his gut. Everything is blurry, Jon pays for everything and Will walks to the car, the suffocation of the store becoming too much and he needs to be in any sort of safety net.
He sits there in silence, everything spins, Jonathan bought him nail polish for him to use. That's not right, it's not okay, Will feels sick. Will doesn't even hear when Jon opens the car door and enters, though he does know Jon can tell he isn't okay. Sense the thick cloud of fear and shame fill the car and it's heartbreaking. Jon grabs both his shoulders and looks at him dead in the eyes.
"I love you so much yknow that right? No matter what you like or do is ever gonna change that. Nothing Will, please calm down" Will breaths in and out shaky and staggered his heart jumps at his throat. Jon cups his face gently, an action worth a million words, Jon knows how to ground him despite the distance they have he will always know Will. After a few more inhales and exhales he feels a little more stable.
"Yknow I think it's cool.. the red nail polish I mean. It'll be like Bowie, when he wears that extreme makeup." Will softly giggles at the comment and puts a hand over his heart trying to stabilize it. Jonathan lets go of his cheeks and pats his head before starting the engine of the car.
"And I was thinking… Maybe I can also paint my nails with you? Together." Will turns his head to look at Jon, cause what. Jon moves his head to look at Will for a bit before facing the road again.
"It'll be fine Will. I don't care about what people think and I want you to know that you can be yourself with me. Painting your nails isn't gonna prove anything to anyone." Will sucks his breath, It's like Jon was reading every single thought Will was having. He can feel his eyes well up with tears, and turns his head to face the window.
"Th-That sounds great" His voice cracks. The drive home feels better, the ache in his chest has subsided and now he sips on the large slushie.
When they pull up into the driveway of the house Jon turns off his car and shouts "Race you to my room" opens the door with haste, dashing to the front door. Will scuttles out the car, almost dropping his half-drunk slushie all over the ground. He tries to catch up with Jon as he's running up the stairs almost tripping along the way.
Will reaches his room painting harshly, Jon is on the ground sitting criss cross with the nail polish in his hand. Will sits in front of him in the same position and stares at the small bottle, the tiny item holding so much despair in his heart it feels comedic. He is about to feel sick again but Jon is already unscrewing the cap off, the pungent harsh chemical fills their nose. Nothing is said between them, Jonathan grabs Will's hand, brushes about to hit his nail but he is shaking– it's rather concerning.
"Will it’s just me, okay? No one is here, just us, you don't have to be scared with me here." It's soft like talking to a wounded animal. Will doesn't say anything but bit his lip, Jonathan sets his hand atop of his knee for more stability and starts painting. Jon so crunched up, face so close to Will's hand trying not to miss any spots. The wet polish lays on Will's finger nails beautifully, pooling more in some areas where Jon didn't scrap off the excess polish off the brush. Will's heart is stuttering again in his chest, but it's not with fear but joy. He thought the world would split in two but nothing is happening. The reality is he loves how it makes him feel, the pretty color complimenting his light olive skin. Every stroke feels like a step closer to acceptance.
"Done. You look so cool Will "Jon says happily, Will waves his hands around trying to dry his nails as fast as possible.
Will stares at his nails watching the color dry, his cheeks are pink and his heart flutters. He didn't realize a small action like this would have him leaping for joy. The anguish of his mind overtaking him for indulging in something so simple. Jonathan has a big grin on his face knowing he is content and it makes him slightly embarrassed to be so happy over this.
After his nails are done drying he goes to Jon, placing his hand on his knee and starts painting. Who knew painting someone's nails can be so fun. Something inside Will is buzzing with delight, a part of him healing as he bonds with his big brother.
"Jon.. you seriously need to stop biting your nails. There are hardly any nails to paint" Will says with a chuckle and Jon scoffs as he playful shoves Will huffing out a shut up. Will chews on his lips with concentration, the artist in him trying to be as perfect as possible. They talk about random topics and Will feels great.
Both are filling up the room with laughs, Will feels safe like this is an everyday. Everything feels static, skin tingling with enthusiasm. Will finishes painting Jon's nails and they both lay on the ground looking at the ceiling. Will lifts up his arm till it's in his vision, he sees the red color stare back at him and he can help but blush, he wonders if this is how the girls in his school feel with a fresh set of nails.
Will also notices he's been talking with his hands more but wont correct it.
"I love you bud, so so much. Please don't ever feel like you need to hide yourself with me every again, okay? I'm here. Talk to me, whatever you need. I'm not only your big brother but your best friend, remember?" The words fill Will's ears and starts to cry, always being emotional and sensitive. He moves towards Jon with a big hug and buries his head into the side of his shirt. Jonathan pats his head and rubs his back giving him reassurement.
Will pulls back and looks at him with wet eyes. "I love you to Jon, thank you so much for this"
The day falls as they both remain in Jon's room, music fills the air and Will is sitting near the music shelf looking at all the new mixtapes he made. Jon on his bed talking about anything and everything. Will feels grateful to go back to this again, like their life isn't filled with the never ending worry of their town.
"We should get green next time."
"What?" Will looks at Jon on his bed with a puzzled expression.
"Green nail polish I mean, it'll suit you"
"Suit me? How?"
"Zombie boy." Jon laughs out and Will rolls his eyes.
Will looks at the nail polish on his nails again, the fear long gone now replaced with pride. He's going to be okay, the thought of not hiding himself spewing out into reality. It's scary but he has Jon who would always be on his side every step of the way, and with that he feels brave.