Chapter Text
Summer, 1990.
It was Dustin’s idea.
Will did not exactly fight it, neither did the others.
Maybe they were all just waiting for someone else to say it first.
Sometimes time doesn’t heal open wounds.
Sometimes it only lets them scab over, thin and fragile, until someone picks at them again. And after a while the pain stops feeling like something that happened to you.
It becomes something you carry.
The vehicle smelled of leather and engine oil, the tires humming against the motorway like a restless heartbeat. Will sat in the back, knees drawn close, tracing the scratches in the floor with the tip of his sneaker. His sketchbook was balanced on his lap, the pencil long gone beyond the crack of the seat, pages vibrating. The others argued with hushed voices, voices swallowed by the hum of the radio, by the vast emptiness of the road ahead.
The sky was bruised with a hint of beautiful blues and purples, waving its final goodbye before the moon appeared to watch over them.
None of them spoke about Hawkins. None of them spoke of her. None of them spoke about what exactly they were doing, cramped together in a van Dustin got for his birthday, the back of it stashed with bags and enough items to last them the entire summer.
They all easily agreed to this. As if they were looking for an excuse to not leave each other and begin living. Because realistically, how does one move on from what they have endured and have lives, fall in love and work like dogs for a boss who does not give a single fuck about them? This time is theirs. They are claiming back a glimmer of youth.
Dustin refused conformity.
Lucas saw a summer with his friends as a trip of a lifetime.
Max did not care about the consequences. Her eyes were growing more and more vacant every day.
Will… Will had no idea what he wanted. What he wanted from life, from anyone.
And Mike. Will had absolutely no way to read Mike anymore.
Sometimes it felt like their friendship had already ended, and no one had noticed.
Nobody noticed because it was not just Mike and Will, it was all of them.
Like a flower left too long in a vase. Once it had been bright and alive, something beautiful you couldn’t stop looking at. But slowly, quietly, it wilted.
And now all that remained was the memory of what it used to be.
And yet they all clung to each other.
Mike sat next to Lucas, headphones locked over his ears like armor, hands fidgeting with the sleeve of his jumper. Even from the back of his head, Will could feel the emptiness there, the restless gaze that could not linger on a single thing.
If Will were feeling alive, if he could feel alive at all, he might have joked that this was the most reckless, stupid idea they’d ever had. But he said nothing, and the van hummed on, carrying them toward something unnameable.
People their age were supposed to be in college by now. Spending their summers drifting back to the towns they grew up in, revisiting the same diners and movie theaters that once felt like the center of the universe. Sitting on familiar porches with friends they hadn’t seen in months, pretending nothing had changed. Meeting strangers in places they would only remember in fragments later. At gas stations, beaches, late-night parties where the music was too loud and the air smelled like cheap beer and cigarettes.
The kind of summers people would talk about fondly years later, when everything had already slipped away.
Will wanted to feel like he was running away.
But he couldn’t do that to his mom.
Or to Jonathan.
He had told her before he left—standing awkwardly by the front door, one hand already resting on the knob. He tried not to notice the way her expression tightened, the way her jaw clenched before she forced a smile that was a little too wide to be real. Because as much as she worries, she knew she couldn’t coddle him any longer. Now that there is no threat beyond their dimension.
Then came the reminders, spilling out of her like a reflex.
His medications.
His sleep schedule.
Stay near a phone.
Don’t do anything silly.
Will had nodded through all of it.
He wished, somewhere deep inside his chest, that he could be a better son.
But he needed a break from being watched so closely.
Years of concerned looks can wear a person down.
Behind the wheel, Dustin was singing loudly along to a Chaka Khan song playing through the radio, completely off-key and completely committed. Max and Lucas were arguing about something pointless, but it sounded way too heated. About whose turn it was to pick the next tape, or where they should stop next.
Mike and Will said nothing.
Will’s heart had been burning for far too long.
“How much money do we even have? Did we even think of that?”
The neon sign buzzed and hummed, a letter flickering off and on, the fluorescent pink flashing against Will’s eyes and aching in his mind as he tried to pivot his focus from it, the hairs on his neck rising as a defense mechanism, or a trauma response that will follow him until he was lowered into his grave.
His head ached.
Ached in a way that should be concerning.
“Well, I’ve been working for months, what do you have to say for yourself, Wheeler?”
Mike sighed loudly, glaring at Dustin with a mock hatred that could look real if Will had not known these two to bicker for their entire lives. Will and Lucas made eye contact and rolled their eyes. Max was present, but not in the conversation.
“Anyway,” Dustin said in a tone that is way too chirpy for the current vibe of the group, “I know none of us are in the mood, but can we just have this one summer? To do all this stupid shit that we should have done when we were sixteen?”
Max rolled her eyes at Dustin, her feet stomping at gravel beneath her feet, as though the sound anchored her more than anything.
Night had swallowed the sky by the time Dustin pulled the van to a stop on the outskirts of Chicago.
If Will squinted, he could see the distant city, glittering faintly on the horizon. Towers of light rising out of the dark, streets pulsing with life somewhere far away.
For a moment he wished he was inside it.
Just another stranger drifting through crowded sidewalks and neon reflections. Letting the noise carry him somewhere he didn’t have to think.
They had been on the road for nearly five hours. Their legs were cramped, the van thick with the smell of summer heat and sweat. The air inside had turned stale long ago.
Dustin pulled into the motel lot with a grin, like this stop had been part of the grand plan all along.
The motel looked tired.
Grey paint peeled from the walls in long strips. The neon sign outside flickered weakly, buzzing like a dying insect. It looked like the kind of place that had watched too many people pass through its doors. As though it had witnessed the affairs, bad decisions, drugs, the quiet regrets.
Will hesitated for half a second before pushing the door open anyway.
The girl behind the desk looked miserable.
Her purple uniform glowed under the dim fluorescent lights, the color loud enough to feel almost aggressive. Will found himself wondering if Jane would like that shade. Whether she would call it pretty.
Then he remembered she probably would.
Jane always managed to find beauty in things no one else bothered to look at.
“How long?” the girl asked flatly, filing her nails. Her blonde fringe hung low over her eyes, and she didn’t bother looking up at them.
“Just the night, please,” Dustin said. “Uh… there’s five of us. Yeah. Five.”
The girl paused, finally glancing up.
“Who wants the single room?”
Will hesitated.
Too slow.
Dustin immediately stepped forward. “Well, I’m the driver, so I feel like it’s only fair.”
He said it with a grin that made it sound like a joke, but no one really argued.
Fair’s fair.
Maybe Max was still trying to convince Lucas she should share with him.
She wasn’t.
Two minutes later everything was settled.
Will’s heart started thrumming in his chest so painfully he thought he might collapse right there in the lobby.
Mike sighed, grabbed the keys from the counter, and started walking toward the rooms without waiting for anyone. His bag bounced against his back with every step, his shoulders stiff and tight.
Will followed behind him, head lowered.
Max brushed past them, keys jingling softly in her hand. As she passed, she placed a hand briefly on Will’s shoulder.
“Okay?” she whispered.
Like she already knew.
She didn’t.
Will swallowed hard anyway.
Maybe he was more obvious than he thought.
Or maybe Mike was just being that much of a dick.
“Yeah,” Will said quietly, forcing a small smile.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
It never did anymore.
“Hey guys,” Lucas called out, “why don’t we dump our stuff in our rooms first, then you two come over to ours? We can figure out the rest of the trip.”
Will nodded quickly.
Mike responded with a vague hum of agreement. Dustin flashed one of his wide, unstoppable smiles.
The motel room smelled like old carpet and cigarettes.
For a moment the scent reminded Will of his childhood home.
But not in a comforting way.
It wasn’t warm memories that surfaced.
It was shouting.
Doors slamming.
The quiet moments afterward when he would try to drown it all out.
Mike claimed the bed closest to the door.
Like he wanted the option of leaving.
Like he might take it.
They hadn’t spoken a single word since stepping into the room.
Will couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things had started breaking between them again.
Their friendship was always like this since they came back from California all those years ago — stitched back together, carefully mended, only for one of them to pull away a few weeks later.
This time, it was Mike.
It always felt like Mike’s turn.
So Will didn’t try.
He couldn’t drag himself through that kind of hurt again.
“I’m gonna head over to the others.”
He didn’t look back. Didn’t wait for Mike to give a response.
Not that there would’ve been one.
“This is our base of operations. Well for tonight, anyway.”
Dustin’s voice bounced around the motel room, overly bright, like he was forcing energy into a space that didn’t have any. When Will looked closer, he noticed the heaviness sitting behind Dustin’s eyes.
His mouth was moving faster than his thoughts as he unloaded snacks and drinks from a crinkling carrier bag.
“Is that a pack of cigarettes? Really, Dustin? How did you even get all of this?” Lucas scolds as they begin to bicker.
“Okay yes, fine, but it’s gunna pair so well with booze, just you wait! And I can get anything I want if I try hard enough.”
Will stared at the pack, hands itching for a taste.
“Ah! See?! Will is already starving for one.”
“Oh shut up Dustin, just pass them here.”
Dustin obliged, tossing the pack and a lighter to Will as he rummages through the cans of beer.
“And Mike?” Max asked, reaching across Will to grab a cigarette.
Everything about the moment felt strangely easy. Too easy.
Like they had been doing this for years.
But they hadn’t.
Only a year ago were they planning campaigns, straying away from the party lifestyle on purpose
Will had taken a single drag from one of Jonathan’s joints a few weeks ago and spent the next five minutes coughing like he was dying. Drinking like this was new to him too.
All of it was new.
Will placed the cigarette between his lips and lit it anyway, like it was second nature.
Maybe it was.
Smoke had always been part of his life. It lived in the walls of his childhood home, soaked into clothes and furniture, drifting through half-open doors.
Maybe it would have been stranger if he didn’t carry it with him.
“In the room,” Will answered, inhaling slowly.
The smoke burned his lungs in a way that felt almost comforting.
He didn’t cough.
Max handled hers just as easily.
Dustin took a drag and immediately abandoned the cigarette, making a face, while Lucas ignored the pack entirely and cracked open a beer instead. The hiss of the can filled the room as he tipped it back, letting the drink slide down his throat.
“What’s with him?” Max asked.
It was a pointless question.
Everyone knew.
Grief was impossible to measure. It changed shape depending on the person carrying it.
Dustin had been grieving for so long that the sadness had folded itself neatly behind a smile.
Mike didn’t bother hiding it at all.
They should probably be kinder to him.
But Will couldn’t stop the bitterness that crept in sometimes. The quiet feeling that Mike’s anger—his distance—had somehow settled on Will.
Like maybe Mike wished things had turned out differently.
Like maybe…
Will cut the thought off before it could finish forming.
He inhaled again, letting the smoke fill his lungs like a rough, suffocating kind of embrace. The paper left a dry taste on his tongue.
No one answered Max’s question.
There wasn’t anything they could say.
Five minutes later, Will had another cigarette between his fingers when a knock sounded at the door.
Lucas got up and unlocked it.
Mike stepped inside like he had never left, an air of casual indifference hanging off him.
Then his eyes met Will’s.
And stayed there.
And then landed straight down at the cigarette and the can of beer that was plopped down at Will’s lap from Dustin. And then it went back up to Will’s lips, staring at the Virgina Slim like it was a hypnotic tool.
Will felt the weight of it.
He subconsciously turned his head around, staring out the window instead.
“Oh finally,” Max says, “look who’s decided to stop being boring!”
“Shut the fuck up, Max.”
Within seconds the room dissolved into argument again. Voices overlapped, rising and crashing into each other like waves. Will kept his gaze on the horizon.
Outside, the city shimmered in fragments of neon and streetlight. A kaleidoscope of colors reflected back at him through the glass, promising something he couldn’t quite name.
Somehow, he trusted it.
“Guys…,” He murmurs, ash collecting on his hand accidentally. He wiped it away.
The room did not hear him.
“Guys!” He tried again and this time, everyone looked at him, silent as could be.
Will did not wait for a reply.
“Let’s stop this stupid fight and go explore the city.”
“It’s 11pm, Will.”
Mike’s voice. Will felt a breeze of cool anger settle in his chest. He brushed it away.
“And?”
“Will’s right, I assumed that was what we were gunna do?” Lucas said and Max nodded.
Dustin looked at Will with a look that he could only describe as goofy.
“You, my child, have the right idea.”
An hour later, after managing to convince Mike to walk into the city with them, the Party found themselves in a dingy bar, one where people with reputations to uphold would avoid, one that attracted people who liked to live a little rough, who liked to display their insecurities without worrying about what others may have thought.
A part of him felt the thrill course through his veins already.
“Dude, this is ridiculous, we don’t even have IDs?”
Dustin did not look worried at all. He let Lucas’ remark fade into the air as they walked inside.
“Don’t worry, I have a surprise!”
Will looked at Max, who shrugged with a grin, trusting Dustin’s words like gospel.
The bar was sticky with spilled beer and neon reflected in the puddles like cheap jewels. Cigarette smoke lingered, curling in lazy spirals toward the low ceiling. Will’s sneakers stuck faintly to the floor with every step. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat, and vinyl. It was the kind of smell that made memories ache.
Dustin led the way, grinning like a kid in a candy store. He shouted words none of them could hear over the bass-heavy music, bumping shoulders with strangers. Max groaned, tucking her hands in her pockets. Lucas kept close, shoulders tense, scanning the room as if danger could come from any corner.
Will stayed near the wall, stepping forward only when the crowd parted at the bar. His eyes traced the flicker of neon overhead, the blur of bodies swaying to the bass. Mike was beside him, leaning just slightly away, headphones tucked in his pocket, jaw tight, scanning everything as though the world might explode. Will wanted to reach for his hand, just once, like they used to when they were kids.
He shoved the thought away before he could linger on the memory, before the softness of Mike’s hands could ache in his chest.
The bartender moved with a rhythm that did not match the music at all.
Her hips swayed as she poured herself a shot from the top shelf and downed it like she hadn’t breathed in days. She winced slightly, shook her head, and set the bottle back in its place with careful precision.
Will froze.
She looked… familiar.
The bartender turned—and the grin Will hadn’t meant to show slipped across his face before he could stop it.
Robin Buckley.
Dustin had led them here for good reason it seemed.
For a moment the noise of the bar dulled, like someone had lowered the volume on the entire room. All that remained was the flicker of recognition, the pulse of memory, and the quiet hum of possibility.
Her eyes lit up instantly.
“Henderson! You actually came! And you brought the circus!”
Robin sounded exactly the same.
She looked happier than Will remembered, too. She was wearing a shimmering blue blazer over a graphic tank top, her hair tousled and damp at the temples from the heat of the bar. She waved a coworker over to cover the counter and slipped around the side.
Before Will could react, she wrapped him in a hug.
It was warm. Tight. Real.
The kind of hug that made something in his chest loosen after months of tension.
She smelled like gardenia, tequila, and something faintly smoky he couldn’t quite place.
“Baby Byers!” she said brightly. “I missed you! It’s so weird seeing you here—whoa, what are you guys even doing in Chicago?”
“Hi, Robin,” Will said with a soft laugh, pulling back just enough to see her properly.
The group formed a loose circle around them, creating a small pocket of space against the crush of strangers.
Dustin high-fived her enthusiastically. Lucas offered an easy smile.
Mike looked bored.
Max looked confused.
“Well,” Dustin said proudly, “I told you I’d visit when we talked on the phone. And also, we need drinks.”
Robin pressed her lips together in a look that was painfully similar to a disappointed mother.
“Ugh. Fine. But I’m supervising,” she said, pointing a finger at all of them. “I get off shift in an hour. Behave. Or don’t. Honestly I don’t want to parent you little weasels, but maybe I should? Actually that’s not my job. God, where’s Steve when I need him?”
“Where is Steve, actually?” Will asked. “I can’t imagine seeing you without him.”
“Back in New York,” Robin groaned dramatically. “He was here a week ago, though. Ugh—I miss him.”
She paused.
“Don’t tell him I said that. He is absolutely not allowed to know.”
“I’m so telling,” Dustin announced.
Robin ruffled his hair aggressively and shoved him aside.
Then she looked at all of them again, one by one, like she was trying to memorise their faces.
“Right,” she said finally, voice firm but warm. “None of you are ordering anything. You’re lucky security didn’t kick you out already. This place is… not exactly strict about rules, but still.”
She clapped her hands once.
“I’m picking your drinks.”
Dustin groaned happily.
“This will be fun!” Robin continued. “Also don’t throw up on my bar. It’s technically polished. And don’t tell anyone I’m doing this because I feel like a complete creep right now. Henderson, you’re absolutely going to get me arrested. You almost did once already!”
She said it cheerfully, like it was nothing.
Dustin rolled his eyes and waved her off.
Robin spun back behind the bar, grabbing bottles with the casual dexterity of someone who had been doing this longer than she’d admit. Liquor flashed in the neon light as she flipped and poured.
“You know,” she called over the music, “I’m proud of you guys. Leaving Wheeler’s basement and actually entering the world.”
She pointed a bottle toward them.
“You all look adorable. Tonight is about exploring new feelings. New adventures.”
Her finger landed dramatically on Will.
“Especially you, Baby Byers.”
Will felt heat rush to his ears.
He looked down at the sticky floor and pretended to examine the pattern of spilled beer.
Robin scanned the shelves like a conductor studying sheet music, muttering to herself as she grabbed bottles and glasses.
Then she began mixing.
Ten minutes later, she slid drinks across the bar one by one.
“For Dustin,” she announced, placing a bright pink drink in front of him. It fizzed energetically, topped with a tiny umbrella and an orange slice.
“You, my chaotic child, require something that matches your energy. Sweet. Overwhelming. Probably going to make you even more annoying.”
Dustin grabbed it immediately, grinning like he’d just been handed treasure.
“For Max.”
Robin slid over a dark cocktail filled with ice and a single cherry.
“Sharp. No nonsense. Packs a punch. Keeps your sarcasm fueled.”
Max smirked approvingly.
“For Lucas.”
A clear drink with a faint green tint and a sprig of mint floated on top.
“Refreshing. Calm. Practical. You’ll feel smarter than everyone else for about five minutes.”
Lucas rolled his eyes but took a sip anyway.
Then Robin turned to Will.
She handed him a small glass filled with something golden: warm and bittersweet.
“For you,” she said softly. “Quiet one.”
Her eyes glinted slightly.
“Safe… but sharp. Like someone who tastes life carefully before deciding if they like it.”
Will stared at the drink.
The smell was warm, almost comforting.
His fingers brushed hers briefly when he took the glass, and his chest tightened for reasons he didn’t want to examine too closely.
He didn’t drink yet.
He waited.
Robin set the final glass down in front of Mike.
It was dark amber, the rim dusted with sugar that she’d lit into a small flickering flame.
“For you,” she said. “Brooding one.”
She tilted her head.
“Looks dangerous. Probably is.”
Mike glanced up at her briefly, jaw still tight.
He didn’t smile.
But the corner of his mouth twitched just slightly.
Will almost hugged Robin again for managing to pull even that much emotion out of him.
Robin clapped her hands proudly.
“Ta-da! Drinks served. Personalities lightly insulted but mostly celebrated.”
Dustin took a huge gulp immediately.
Max studied hers like a science experiment before sipping.
Lucas sniffed his first.
Will finally raised his glass, breathing in the bittersweet scent before taking a careful drink.
Beside him, Mike stared at the small flame dancing on the surface of his glass. The orange glow flickered in his eyes before he leaned forward and took a slow sip.
Robin leaned against the bar with her arms crossed, satisfied.
“Good,” she said.
“Everyone’s alive.”
Her grin widened.
“Now let’s see if you survive the rest of the night.”
An hour passes quickly when you are trying to forget how time works.
The hands of the clock dissolve into nothing but background noise. Neon lights smear across your vision like memories you cannot quite pin down. The bass hums in your chest, syncing with the pulse of your own blood, and for a moment it feels as if the world has folded in on itself, and all the grief, the fear, the weight of the past compressed into a single vibrating blur.
You laugh because you think it will make it easier to breathe.
Maybe it does.
Just a little.
But the smoke and the heat and the brief brush of someone’s hand against yours reminds you of something quieter and far more stubborn:
You can’t run from what you carry.
You only move through it.
Stumble through it.
Drink it down in sips and jolts and reckless beats, hoping it dulls the ache long enough to remember what it feels like to be alive.
Will was tipsy when he realised this was not the average bar.
Not for the reasons he had assumed when they first arrived.
They were all squeezed around a table now, talking over the thrumming bass of a disco track. Donna Summer was singing her heart out somewhere above them, her voice floating through the speakers like an invitation.
Stand up.
Dance.
Forget.
Just forget.
Will had been noticing things.
Little things at first.
Hands lingering a little too long.
Stares that didn’t dart away in embarrassment.
Bodies leaning into each other without apology.
Without secrecy.
Men holding men.
Women holding women.
Will’s eyes moved slowly across the room, trying to make sense of it. Trying to adjust to the sight.
Because even though he had said the words out loud, even though he had admitted who he was , seeing it on display like this still made something in his stomach twist.
Not disgust.
Not fear exactly.
Just the strange ache of witnessing something that felt both completely right and completely impossible.
Like looking through a window at a life you hadn’t believed existed.
He glanced back at his friends, searching their faces.
Maybe they knew.
Maybe this was a practical joke meant just for him.
Maybe he was still sitting in the van and had fallen asleep.
Maybe this was another vision.
Dustin noticed his stare.
He didn’t smirk.
Didn’t tease.
He simply smiled. It was small and careful —like someone offering silent reassurance.
Encouragement.
As though Dustin knew his lingering feelings for the brooding male next to him and wanted him to do something for himself for once
Will looked away quickly.
“Uh… I’m just gonna get some air,” he muttered, already sliding out of his seat.
No one stopped him.
The cold night air hit him like water.
He pushed through the crowd and out the door, breathing deeply as the summer heat of the bar gave way to the quiet hum of the street.
His hands trembled as he dug into his pocket for a cigarette. The pack was in his possession now, a mistake future him will deal with.
Somehow another drink had ended up in his other hand within that hour.
He didn’t remember when that had happened.
Maybe someone had handed it to him.
Maybe he had taken it himself.
Maybe it didn’t matter.
He balanced the glass awkwardly while flicking Dustin’s lighter open.
The flame sparked.
The cigarette caught.
Habit had formed faster than he expected.
Will drew in a slow drag, letting the smoke wrap around him like a protective cloak.
The city breathed quietly around him . The distant engines, muffled laughter spilling from the bar, the low electrical buzz of the neon sign above the door.
He exhaled.
The alcohol and nicotine softened the edges of everything.
His head felt light.
Strangely warm.
For the first time all night, the ache inside his chest loosened.
He still felt too small for whatever the hell this night was supposed to be.
But for a moment. He felt invincible.
“Alone, huh?”
Will flinched slightly.
The voice was smooth. Casual.
But not entirely innocent.
He glanced up and saw a man leaning against the opposite wall, hands tucked into the pockets of a leather jacket. His grin was relaxed, confident, like someone who had spent years mastering the art of charming strangers.
Dark eyes caught the glow of the neon sign.
“Uh… my friends are inside,” Will said quickly. He almost squeaked it, really but he would never admit that.
His heart was suddenly beating faster than the music from the bar.
The man studied him for a moment.
Not rudely.
Just… thoroughly. Very thorough.
His gaze moved over Will in a way so direct that a shiver ran through him.
Then he pushed himself off the wall and stepped a little closer, filling the narrow alley with easy confidence.
“I’m Theo.”
Will nodded, fumbling with the cigarette.
“Will.”
The smoke burned his fingers because he had forgotten to move it.
The guy, Theo, smiled wider.
“Cute name.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“You’ve got… I don’t know. A quiet about you.”
He leaned back against the wall beside Will, shoulder nearly brushing his.
“I like that.”
A pause.
“Mind if I keep you company?”
Will’s chest tightened. Part of him wanted to run.
Part of him wanted to disappear into the smoke.
But his mouth answered before he could stop it.
“S-sure.”
The word came out softer than he meant.
Theo’s smile softened slightly.
Will suddenly felt painfully aware of how inexperienced he probably looked, the nervous cigarette, the way he avoided eye contact.
Timid.
Obvious.
Maybe he wasn’t ready.
Maybe he never would be.
They didn’t get very far into conversation.
A flicker of movement caught Will’s eye.
Mike.
Standing just inside the bar’s doorway. His Arms crossed. Jaw tight. Watching. As though he were a guard dog. As though Will was only worth remembering as soon as he tried to move on.
Cruel.
His eyes were fixed on Will with an intensity that felt almost physical. Hot. Sharp.
Unreadable.
Something inside Will’s chest twisted painfully.
Part fear.
Part guilt.
It was ridiculous to feel guilty about someone who barely spoke to him anymore.
Someone who hadn’t strung more than two real sentences together all night.
But when it came to Mike Wheeler, Will had never been very good at logic.
Theo followed his gaze.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
“You’ve got someone watching you,” he murmured.
He leaned closer.
“Is he jealous?”
Will looked down at the cigarette.
It had burned itself out completely.
A small grey skeleton between his fingers.
“Why would he be?” Will said.
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
The alcohol made them sound less like a confession and more like a challenge.
Theo’s hand brushed Will’s arm lightly.
“Don’t worry,” he said.
“I like a little challenge.”
The touch felt like fire.
Will’s pulse jumped.
Theo was attractive — the kind of person who seemed capable of pulling someone into trouble without even trying.
But Will’s eyes moved back to Mike.
Still watching.
Still unmoving.
And suddenly all he could think about was how he badly had wanted to rolled his eyes at Mike.
How he had wanted to shake him.
Demand answers.
Things had been simpler when they were fourteen.
Back then feelings were loud and obvious.
Now they were quiet.
Complicated.
Dangerous.
Maybe Will could walk over there.
Maybe he could try again.
Be brave.
Call Mike out.
But he had already tried so many times.
And every attempt had left him more exhausted than the last.
Before Will could look again, before he could sombrely look over to the person who single handedly is ruining all his progress—
Mike turned.
And disappeared back inside the bar.
The door swung shut behind him.
Music spilled briefly into the street before the noise faded again.
Leaving only the neon glow.
A stranger.
And the faint smell of smoke.