Chapter Text
Gareth isn’t sure what the proper protocol is for visiting your best friend—recently accused of starting a demonic murder cult and killing three people—in the hospital, but he didn’t think it would include playing nice with Steve Harrington. But Eddie also nearly bled to death, so he doesn’t say anything about it, not even when he feels like an awkward third wheel. Steve is actually pretty okay, for all the few words they’ve spoken to each other, though maybe he’s also playing nice for Eddie’s sake.
Besides, it’s kind of funny, in a way. Eddie Munson, self-proclaimed non-conformist, going easily to his knees at the gentle swoop of The Hair. Just last month he was heckling Dustin for excessively praising the fallen king. Now Eddie’s the one falling.
“Stevie,” Eddie whines, dramatic as usual, puffing his lower lip out in a pout. “Just one, I promise.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “That’s a goddamn lie and you know it, Munson.”
Eddie lowers his chin and looks up at Steve, his eyes round and doe-like. “Please?” he breathes, and Steve physically falters where he stands.
Gareth feels like he shouldn’t be here.
It’s not even sexual, the way they look at each other, but it’s enough for Gareth to want to puke or cry or bash their heads together or something. If Eddie weren’t still bedridden and weak-bodied, Gareth would probably just resort to locking them in a room with the demand to just fuck already, Jesus Christ. The tension was suffocating enough as an outsider. He wasn’t sure how either of them could stand it.
“Eddie,” Steve warns, holding his ground. Impressive.
“Please, please, pleaseeee. Robin threw my last one in a lake!”
“Yeah,” says Steve, remaining unsympathetic, “you don’t smoke in front of Robin, it’s a rule. She threw a full pack out my car window before I learned my lesson.”
“So you understand my struggle!” Eddie tries, hopeful.
“And, yet.”
Eddie begs, “It’s just one little cigarette.”
Steve doesn’t give. “The doctors said no. I said no.”
“Stevie, c’mon, don’t be such a square.”
Steve’s shoulders rise, the creases between his brows smoothing into a blank expression, and the tension in the room suddenly feels much more dangerous. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I being lame right now?” he asks, too calm to actually be it.
Eddie twists his fingers into the blanket and remains silent.
“Well, I’m sorry if my precautions for your life are lame to you—” Gareth winces. “—Sorry if I’d rather not risk your heart collapsing under the strain of nicotine after resuscitating your dead fucking body. After feeling your ribs break under my hands.”
Eddie swallows and burrows further into the mattress. Gareth wishes he could do the same.
“And, would you look at that.” Steve holds one of his hands up to his face. It’s trembling. “I think that’s still some of your blood under my nails.”
“Steve,” Eddie whispers, daring to speak.
“Is living lame to you, Eddie?” Steve asks. And that’s when his voice finally breaks—turns raspy and fragile. “Because that must make me the lamest fucking person on the planet. I want you alive, Eddie. Here, with me.”
Yeah, Gareth really shouldn’t be here.
He rises from his chair and slips out of the room as inconspicuously as he can manage, trying to ignore the way Eddie sniffs like he’s going to start crying. He closes the door most of the way, not wanting to break them out of what feels like an important moment. He hopes Eddie doesn’t say anything stupid.
Gareth never thought he’d be the one to cheer on Steve Harrington in a disagreement with his best friend, but, yeah, he’d also like Eddie to keep living. Guess that makes him pretty lame, too.
He only makes it down the hall when—
“Gareth, hey!”
His eyes find Mike Wheeler, dark hair shaggy and curled behind his ears. Dustin and Lucas aren’t far behind him, along with a fourth boy Gareth doesn’t recognize. He’s got his arms folded across his chest, and he approaches slower than the rest. Follows, more like.
Gareth steps forward to meet them. “Hey, guys.”
“Were you visiting Eddie?” Lucas asks.
“Yeah.” Gareth shoves his hands into his pockets. “If you’re going that way, though, you should probably wait a bit.”
“What, why?” says Dustin.
“Uh,” Gareth flounders. He looks over his shoulder back at the cracked-open door to Eddie’s room. Thankfully, he can’t hear voices from this far away. “Just maybe give it ten minutes.”
Dustin opens his mouth, ready to argue—unsurprising—but backs off when Lucas nudges him in the shoulder.
“It’s cool,” says Lucas. “We can wait.” And Lucas may have ditched the end of their Vecna campaign, but right now he’s Gareth’s favorite.
Gareth nods like they’re doing him a favor, but he would become a concrete wall if any one of them actually tried to get past. Eddie and Steve better be sorting their shit out, and Gareth thinks he’s owed some of Eddie’s stash when they do. For all the stress headaches they’ve caused him.
Gareth turns to the unknown boy. “Hey, uh, I’m Gareth, by the way.” Sticks his hand out, to be polite, like his Mom always told him to. “It’s nice to meet you.”
The boy places his hand in his. “Will,” he says.
Gareth blinks. He probably should have pieced that together. “Ah, Will the Wise,” he intones.
Will’s eyes widen slightly. “You, uh—you know me?”
“Only in legend,” Gareth says, grinning reassuringly. “Heard a lot about your campaigns.” And you, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t think it would help. “These guys talked about you like they were missing a limb.”
“Oh,” says Will, sounding surprised but pleased.
Yeah, Mike and Lucas and Dustin, they all shared stories about Will. A lot of D&D related ones, but even just little comments they’d make at the lunch table. Like: “Ew, is this meat loaf or garbage loaf? I hope Will has better food in California.” Or: “Mike, you’re being a dumbass, and if Will were here, he’d totally agree with me.”
He knows half a dozen things about Will already, but he never had a face to give to the name, and it felt wrong to use that half-faded memory of the smiling boy on the posters. That wasn’t Will, not really—at least, not the full picture of him. He didn’t want to define someone by what was probably the worst thing in their life. Because, yeah—
Gareth remembers Will Byers the same way everyone in Hawkins does, as the kid who went missing for a week, was presumed dead, then officially dead, and later found alive. It’s the kind of story people hang onto, if only because things like that don’t happen around Hawkins.
(Or at least, they didn’t use to. Now he’s at the hospital because his best friend nearly died in some horrific and gory way, but he can’t know anything about it, because Eddie signed fucking NDAs.)
What he doesn’t remember, however, are Will’s eyes. The small mole hovering above his mouth, the dorky haircut. He’s—dare Gareth admit it—cute. And Gareth’s probably been looking too long.
“You know,” he begins, an excuse for why he’s staring. “You should join Hellfire. I’m not sure when Eddie’ll be up for anything, but he’s got a lot of time on his hands now.”
Will opens his mouth, but it’s Mike that speaks next. “He can’t. He’s going back to California in a few days to finish out the school year.”
“Well,” says Gareth, and he should really stop looking now, but Will’s looking back, and his eyes are really, really brown. “That sucks. We could have used a cleric on our side.”
Will’s lips tip up at the sides. “Maybe in the summer,” he offers.
Then someone comes up behind Gareth and stands at his side. “Oh, great, the gremlins are here,” they say, but it’s filled with affection more than anything. “You guys go see Max?”
Steve’s face doesn’t give much away, but his posture looks relaxed, and there’s a sort of happiness radiating off him where there wasn’t before. He raises a hand and rakes through his hair, an unconscious gesture, and Gareth spots a familiar band on Steve’s pointer finger—Eddie’s mood ring. It’s shitty and worth about the same as a bottle of coke, but it’s got a good story behind it. Most importantly, it means something to him, and now it’s on Steve Harrington’s hand.
Good job, Eddie, Gareth thinks.
“Yeah, Max is good,” says Lucas. “Pissed that she can’t skateboard in the foreseeable future, but happy she can still see, at least.”
“It’s Max. She’ll be back to going circles around us in no time, if only by the sheer force of her will.”
Lucas snorts and doesn’t disagree.
“Wait,” says Dustin. He’s looking past them and down the hallway to Eddie’s room. “It was just Steve? Why weren’t we allowed in there if Steve was in there?”
Steve turns to Gareth. “You wouldn’t let them in?” he asks.
Gareth shrugs, like it’s casual. “Someone needed to convince Eddie to be lame with us.”
“Thank you,” he says earnestly, and they both know what Steve’s really thanking him for.
Dustin, meanwhile, seems to be malfunctioning. “What are you guys talking about? Since when are you even friends? Steve. Steve. I need answers here!”
“I can’t answer if you don’t stop yapping. And the answer is: none of your business.”
“Friends don’t lie,” says Dustin, like he’ll actually get somewhere with the line. He’s heard it a few times before, from any of the boys, but he doesn’t actually get it.
“Uh, yeah, they do,” Steve says plainly. “And this isn’t a lie, it’s a secret. Which means you’re not meant to know.”
“Yeah, well—” Dustin struggles for a moment. “—friends don’t have secrets, either!”
Steve sighs like he’s using everything left in his lungs to do it. “Dustin, just let it go, man—”
“I’d let it go if you’d just tell me—”
“Do you two really need to do this every time?”
“How about you stop talking—"
“How about you mind your—”
“Is that Eddie’s ring?”
That seems to stop everyone in their tracks. They all follow Mike’s eyes to the deep purple gem on Steve’s left hand. Which, while totally cute and puke-worthy romantic, is definitely a giveaway in hindsight. And sets off an even more chaotic chain of reactions.
“That is! That’s Eddie’s ring!”
“Um, why are you wearing Eddie’s ring?”
“Did he give it to you? Why didn’t he give me a ring?”
“I want one too!”
“I’m totally asking him for the pig.”
“Hey, no fair! The pig is the best one!”
“Yeah, which is why he’s giving it to me—”
In the midst of the screaming, Gareth finds Will. He’s looking between Steve’s hand, his friend’s faces, and the door down the hall. His brows are pinched together, like he’s come to a conclusion he’s not fully set on, and he’s looking for more clues to tip the scales. Then he looks to Gareth, and their eyes lock, and he seems startled for a second. He tilts his head, almost in a question.
But Gareth just smirks, gives a little shrug, and walks away. Halfway across the room, when he looks back, Will’s still looking at him.
*
The July heat is almost unbearable in Eddie’s trailer. The new one that the government gave him is only slightly better than the first, and mainly just because it’s newer. But Eddie’s place has always had its charm, with Wayne’s extensive collection of hats and mugs, and the comfy lived-in feel of it all. It’s definitely the best place to smoke weed, because Wayne doesn’t give a shit, as long as he can take a hit, and Gareth’s mom has the nose of a bloodhound, so he comes here whenever he lights up.
He's the only one here, actually, which is done with the kind of comfortability you get only after being friends with someone so long—to exist in their space like it’s also a little bit yours. And it is, in a way, because being their friend makes them a little bit yours, too.
So he’s allowed to smoke at the trailer, but only when Eddie’s not there, because it’s a little cruel to wave it in the guy’s face when he can’t join in. Not that he hasn’t tried, but Steve’s almost as good as Gareth’s mother at laying down the law, and Eddie’s completely weak to resist him.
Gareth brings the joint to his lips and inhales, still working his way through Eddie’s stash. Since Eddie doesn’t smoke or deal anymore, and as Gareth was rightly owed after his timely departure at the hospital, he was gifted what remained in Eddie’s lunchbox and the hideaways in his room—anything harder got dumped. But it’s still a lot of weed, and Gareth doesn’t even smoke on the regular. He's starting to feel floaty when someone knocks on the trailer door.
Gareth drops the joint in a dish on the coffee table and pulls himself up from where he sat with his back against the bottom of the couch. He takes a second when he stands, because it always hits him a little harder when he does, then moves the few steps across the room. When he opens the door, he pauses.
Will Byers blinks at him in surprise. “Oh, Gareth, hey.”
And maybe it shouldn’t feel so good that Will remembers his name after all these months, but it shoots a bolt of satisfaction through him anyways. “Will,” he greets back, stepping back to let him through the door. “What brings you here?”
“Uh, I was looking for Eddie, actually.” His eyes dance around the trailer, and Gareth wonders if he’s ever been here before. As far as Gareth knows, he’d never even met Eddie the last time they’d spoken, but that seems to have changed in the bit of time since Will’s come back to Hawkins.
“He’s not here,” says Gareth, reclaiming his spot on the floor. “He’s at Steve’s.”
“Oh.”
Gareth clears his throat. “You can, uh, you can hang here if you want. ‘M not sure when he’ll be back, but.”
Will deflates a little. “Yeah, okay.”
Silence hangs between them, a little awkward, and Gareth scrambles for something to say. Just when he’s about to start, he clocks Will’s eyes as they latch onto the abandoned joint.
“Shit, sorry.” Gareth reaches forward and plucks it from the dish. “I can, uh—I can put it out—”
“No,” Will interrupts. “No, it’s okay.” He reaches out a hand. “Can I?”
“Oh. Yeah, sure.” Will Byers is a delightful surprise. Gareth hands it over along with a Zippo, noting the way Will’s fingers pointedly don’t brush his in the exchange. “You’ll probably have to relight it.”
Will lowers himself down and situates himself next to Gareth, legs crossed the same way his are, knees just an inch away from touching.
He’s a little clumsy with the motions, flicking the flame and bringing it to the end of the joint balancing from his mouth. Gareth watches his profile as he inhales, plucks the joint from his lips, and inhales again. He holds for a few seconds before a cough breaks free. Gareth trades him the joint for his water.
“That’s, uh,” Will rasps, once he lowers the bottle from his mouth. He coughs again. “That’s worse than I thought it’d be.”
“Not bad,” Gareth tells him. “Better than my first time. Felt like I’d scorched the inside of my throat, or something.”
“Yeah, a little bit,” Will agrees.
“Wanna try again?” he offers.
Will shakes his head. “No, it’s okay.”
Gareth accepts that and stubs the butt out in the dish. He’s pretty done, too; his tolerance is low. “So, how’s it going, Byers?” he asks. “Missing California already?”
“Nah,” says Will. “I like it better here.”
“You like Hawkins better than California?” Gareth asks, disbelieving, but maybe it’s a little biased by his own dream to one day leave this place. He wants to go somewhere that actually tolerates people who are different. Where he wouldn’t have to worry so hard about how much of himself he’s showing to other people. He kind of thought Will might feel like that too.
But then he says, “All my friends are here.”
And, “Yeah.” Gareth nods. “I get that.”
“California was… cool, I guess. Warm.” Will fiddles with the fabric of his jeans. “And it’s not like I was alone, but…”
“It was still lonely,” Gareth finishes.
“Yeah.”
Gareth considers that for a moment. “Well,” he says, knocking Will’s shoulder with his own. “I’m glad you’re here, then.”
Will looks over at him then, cheeks pink. “Uh, thanks.”
“I was serious about that offer, by the way. To join Hellfire. I think you’d make a really great addition.”
After the events of spring break, the school shut down the club, but none of them were even bothered. It was summer, so they couldn’t use the theater room no matter what, and Eddie was all graduated anyway, so they decided they’d do something at someone’s house, if possible. Eddie mentioned, with a feral sort of grin, that he’ll just “seduce” Steve into letting them commandeer his “truly spacious and luxurious dining room” for a night every week. Gareth believes it’d work.
“Eddie’s asked me, too, but… I don’t know.”
“Well, we’re starting something in a few weeks. Only come if you want, but I think you should. I’d, uh—I’d like to have you there.”
And maybe he’s insisting a little too much, but sue him for wanting to spend more time with a cute boy. Gareth is also weak.
“Oh.” Will’s cheeks deepen in color, but there’s a smile on his face now. “Well, uh. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”
Yeah. Gareth would sure be thinking about it, too.
Will inhales sharply. “Hey, can—can I ask you something?”
Curiosity wells up in Gareth, along with a bit of weariness at Will’s hesitant tone. “Sure.”
“It’s about…” Will’s hands come together in his lap, twisting together, and Gareth watches them as they work. “It’s about that thing. With Eddie and Steve.”
Realization crashes over him. He isn’t that surprised—he’d seen Will’s watchful eyes at the hospital—but he hadn’t expected to be the one Will asked about this. Maybe it’s why Will came over here in the first place, looking for Eddie. Maybe he’d been wanting to talk to someone about this for a while, and was just waiting for the right person to do it with. Gareth doesn’t know what to think about the fact that it’s him he decided on in the end, even if it’s just by circumstance.
“That thing,” Gareth echoes.
“I mean, are—are they really—”
“Look,” Gareth stops him there. “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, then you know I can’t answer that.”
Will starts nodding. “No, you’re right. Sorry.”
“It’s all good,” reassures Gareth. “But, uh, if you’re asking what you’re asking, then not answering is still kind of an answer. So, what I will say is, uh… a lot of people have certain opinions on this. On people who are… different. And a lot of people are wrong.”
Will’s breath comes a little shaky. “Even though everyone says they are?”
“Even then. I mean, a lot of people have a lot of shit opinions. They think—they think ketchup is good on eggs, or—or that running is fun. This is just a lot of people with a shit opinion. And it… can be hard to think otherwise when so many people think… think you don’t need to wear socks with your shoes.”
“Gross,” Will laughs, and isn’t that a sound.
“My point,” says Gareth, “is not everyone has a shit opinion.” He might be edging a little too close to the truth of this conversation now, but he decides he sort of needs to. Will brought this up for a reason, and he thinks it’s worth it to overstep a few lines to get his point across. “And, uh, most people in Hawkins do. I—I know you said you like it better, but it’s actually easier somewhere like California.”
Will’s fingers stop moving. And there it is.
“Am I that obvious?” he asks, a little bitterly.
“No.” Gareth shakes his head. “I mean, you’re the only one who even thought to ask about… Eddie and Steve. The others just—don’t even consider that kind of thing.”
“You did,” Will points out.
“Yeah, I did,” he agrees. “But I think that’s because I—I understand. The same way that you understand.”
“Oh,” Will breathes out. “You’re—”
“Yeah, halfway.”
“Halfway?” Will repeats, confused.
“Yeah, like—” They’ve been talking around it for far too long, and he gives up quickly on trying to use more riddles. “I’m bisexual,” he says simply. “I like both.”
Will nods. “That’s—that’s cool.”
“Yeah,” Gareth chuckles. “It’s cool.”
Will bites down on his lip, and Gareth tries not to stare. It’s becoming a bit of a problem—the staring.
“I’m not,” Will says at last. “I don’t like both, I… I like boys.”
Gareth doesn’t say anything about the croak in his voice, or the way he nearly forces the words out his throat. Despite it, he feels pride soar through his chest, because he might not know Will all that well, but he gets this. He gets what this moment is.
So Gareth nudges his shoulder. “That’s cool,” he says.
“Yeah,” Will agrees. He ducks his chin and smiles at his sneakers. “It’s cool.”
*
Eddie doesn’t come back until late that night, a dopey sort of smile on his face and two hickeys under his jaw. He walks over and lays down on the couch behind Gareth, and Gareth tips his head back until it rests on his upper arm. Will is long gone.
“Eddie,” he says. “I’m fucked.”
“Me too,” says Eddie suggestively, and Gareth groans.
“No, not like—” He sighs. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet you keep coming here and smoking my weed,” Eddie returns, knocking his hand out to flick a joint that Gareth rolled but didn’t light. It sways on the table before stilling.
“It’s not your weed anymore, and someone’s gotta smoke it,” says Gareth. “Besides, I get this weed because you’re getting fucked. It’s a fair trade.”
“Ugh, you can’t keep using that as leverage! You left a room, big deal.”
“Yeah, at a moment that was pivotal to the outcome of your relationship. I could have broken the moment and then you two would have never gotten your shit together.”
“I like to think we would have eventually,” Eddie pouts.
“Maybe,” says Gareth. “But, because of me, you get to kiss him now. You’re welcome.”
“Thanks,” says Eddie easily. “Have all the weed you want.”
“I planned on it. Can we talk about my thing now, please?”
Eddie relents. “Okay, okay. Tell Daddy what’s troubling you.”
Gareth audibly gags. “Never call yourself that again.”
“Sorry, force of habit.”
“Ew, ew, ew—”
“Not like that!” Eddie insists, but he’s laughing. “It’s the kids. They call Steve ‘Mom’, so, you know, logically.” He hand waves the rest of the explanation.
Logically, if Steve is the mom, that makes Eddie the dad, because they’ve been co-parenting longer than they’ve been speaking to each other. Maybe their relationship was inevitable. Maybe it was prophesied by witches and etched into tombs. Meant to be from the beginning.
Gareth thinks they’ve spent entirely too much time talking about Eddie’s relationship and not enough time talking about his lack of one. “I’d still like to exit this topic and enter mine.”
“Right. Go ahead, I promise I’m listening.”
It’s not the first time Gareth’s confessed a crush, but there’s still that thread of nervousness that hangs in him. And it’s new—like five-hours-ago sort of new, so Gareth shouldn’t really be this worked up over it, but it’s been a while since he’s liked someone. If he doesn’t let it out now, he’s worried he’s going to crack.
He takes a deep breath to prepare himself, and then, “I have a crush on Will Byers.”
Eddie sits up so fast that he bangs Gareth’s forehead with his elbow. “What?!” he shrieks.
“Ow.” It doesn’t even hurt. Gareth leans forward and drops his face into his hands. “Yeah,” he says morosely.
“Will Byers,” Eddie repeats, incredulous. “As in best friends with Dustin, Mike, and Lucas. One of my boyfriend’s children. Has a bowl cut. That Will Byers?”
“That Will Byers,” Gareth confirms.
“Oh my god,” Eddie breathes. Giggles a little, because he’s cruel like that.
“I know.”
Eddie puts one hand on Gareth’s shoulder and shakes it roughly. “Why are you so mopey about this? It’s great!”
“Crushes are objectively not great,” Gareth says.
“Uh, yes, they are.”
Gareth tilts his head so he’s looking right into Eddie’s eyes. He does it with raised, disbelieving brows. “So, you’re telling me that three months ago, in the hospital, when you couldn’t shut up about wanting to plant one on Steve Harrington, you weren’t suffering?”
Eddie scoffs. “I was pining, there’s a difference.”
“Pining is still suffering.”
“Ah,” says Eddie in a deep voice, like he’s about to deliver some age-old piece of wisdom. “Suffering with the hope to not suffer anymore.”
“Still suffering.”
“But, like, in a fun way?” Eddie tries.
Gareth slides down until he’s almost flat on the floor. His battle vest bunches uncomfortably underneath his back, but he pays it no mind. “This isn’t helping, you’re meant to be helping.”
Eddie leans forward and plucks the fresh joint from the table, then slides it smoothly so it rests behind Gareth’s ear. “That’s what the green is for, my friend.”
It’s disappointing, but unsurprising. “Your solution to everything is weed.”
Eddie remains unchanged. “It’s a good fix.”
“Well, not anymore,” Gareth reminds himself. “What do you do now that you don’t smoke?”
It took approximately two afternoons for Gareth to be undeniably attracted to the boy, and he’s already gone and invited the guy into Hellfire like he isn’t screwing himself over in the process. At the rate he’s going, he’ll be confessing or combusting into flames by the end of the first session.
“Oh, y’know, just,” says Eddie.
And Gareth actually does not know, that’s why he’s asking. He needs help.
But Eddie’s Eddie, so he puts on a coy little smile, shrugs, and says, “Suffer.”