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- New School Year, New Ways to Make a Fool of Yourself.
It was the beginning of the school year. You could feel the excitement from the seniors of Hawkins High. It was the last year they had before their lives changed completely. Which meant Chance Lawson had finally made the decision to make Will Byers fall in love with him (or die trying).
He had all the odds in his favor. His friendship with Lucas made him have the perfect excuse to talk even more to Will. He may also have signed up for art class this year, Chance was actually excited about that decision. It is with that audacity, oh dear reader, that he started the day going to Will Byers locker.
Will was just minding his business. He was looking for his chem folder, cursing the fact that he was already late and that Dustin was going to give him shit on their table. When a smooth voice says.
"Yo Byers, how was the break?"
"Chance, can we please not start the day like this?"
"Come on, Byers, what do You have to lose?"
"My patience, my will to live, Dustin's bright welcoming to class, I can go on..."
"Then I'll make it quick by saying I hope you had a great break, I would love to catch up." He smoothly lays his arm on the locker. Locks his eyes with Will's. Dark brown meets emerald green. And says, without missing a bit. "Also, let me tell you, all the bowls around the world are in mourning because apparently you decided to leave them in the kitchen where they belong."
Then. Silence. You could hear a pin drop.
Now, you see, ever since the beginning of high school, they've played this song and dance. Chance would say something stupid, and Will would answer by pointing out how stupid it sounded. Usually, their banter was not really charged.
Will also never claim to be a morning person. He had already had a fight with Jane for the bathroom, and she took too long to do her makeup. Which meant he had to do his own makeup really quickly. He can feel the crooked line of his eyeliner and the way his lipstick is a little too sticky for overplaying it.
He can also feel his eye twitching. So with that mindset, he answers a little more harshly than usual. "What the fuck Chance, is not normal to make fun of someone's haircut this early in the morning".
"Is this funny to you? Does it make your day better to be the gum under my shoe?" Says as his finger points at Chance's chest until it meets the ugly letterman jacket he's wearing. Chance starts to be cornered against the locker. "Please, kindly, fuck off and go to class. If you so much speak to me again today, I will hex you. So you can find out if everything your friends say about me is true."
"No, no, no.." He starts mumbling.
With the sound of his locker sounding through the hallway, he leaves Chance gasping for hair, saying, "He touched my chest."
When Will arrives at chem class, five minutes late, mind you. He excuses himself to Dustin, retelling the encounter. "Well, that was a little harsh. But his comment was uncalled for. If a little funny" he answers. They put a pin on the situation when the teacher calls them out.
Later that day at practice, Lucas is having a different reaction, though. "Chance, you had one job. What do you mean you told him 'all the bowls in the world are in mourning' cause you wanted to compliment his hair" he says, covering his face with his hand. Taking a long, long, breath to deal with this bullshit. "It sounded way better in my head" Is the only thing he responds.
"But you know what? There was something good that came out of that fiasco" He adds, putting a hand through his sweaty hair.
"What? What could possibly come out of that? Uh?" He's losing his patience. And money at this point, he should've never made that bet with Max.
"He touched my chest". Says, with his eyes looking like a hopeful puppy.
"He. Touched. Your. Chest".
"He told me he would hex me If I spoke to him again. But he touched my chest while saying it".
The only answer Lucas manages is to throw the ball at the other's jock face. Max almost lost a lung laughing when he told her this version of the story.
- Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder. But Art is not that subjective”
As it turns out. Taking art class was the worst idea he had in a long, long time. How could Will make it look so effortless, he'll never know. Nevertheless, he will try anything to make Will fall for him.
"Yo Byers, look at the drawing I made of you".
Will, already regretting it, looks at Chance's canvas. It's been weeks from the locker fiasco. Max and Jane have been bothering relentlessly about the whole thing. Lucas looks at him with an exasperated look every now and then. He wonders what that's about. Dustin is oblivious as always, and he has more on his plate that he can chew (for your consideration, the weird game of chicken he's doing with Jane when they flirt as their D&D charters).
"I feel like I should be offended. That's how you see me? I've seen stick figures with more depth than that." He says, with a blank expression.
"It's called personal style Byers, personally I think it looks good," Chance says with a million dollar smile and with a wink. It's not a good drawing. Honestly, Chance is scared of fumbling a class this early in the semester. The proportions are all wrong, the shadows are bland and the big bowl cut is not helping the situation.
"Chance, your personal style is grabbing a pencil like a toddler." Says leaving his brush on the canvas. He's not impressed.
"Beuty is in the eye of the beholder."
"Well, thank you for reminding me how awful I look with that drawing. Really Chance, top notch."
"Wait, wait, wait..." He says, opening his eyes with surprise and moving his hands up.
"Please, don't bother me again. I'm actually taking this class seriously. Don't take away from me one of the only spaces where I can relax".
Chance is about to say something, but taking a second look at the artist's demeanor does a double take. "Sure, Byers. I'm sorry for bothering you"
"Thanks," Will says quietly.
Both of them finished the class in silence. Will makes a beautiful piece. Vibrant colors overflow the canvas in a hellscape paradise that makes Chance feel hopeful but so, so alone.
And Chance, well, let's just say he may need to start paying attention to class instead of a certain someone.
When he shows the drawing to Lucas at practice, there's a loud silence in the locker room. "That's what you draw? That's what you compared him to?" He barks.
"Yep," he answers, making a noise.
"I'm not even going to tell you why that was the wrong choice," Lucas adds, making a face. "I'm gonna let you figure it out on your own."
"Not my brightest moment"
"Ya' think?"
"Let's just go to practice." Chance ends by closing his locker.
- The Museum Fiasco.
The next opportunity for Chance comes in the form of a field trip to a museum in Indiana. Coach Steve and Professor Buckley are chaperoning. Distantly, he can hear them talking in a hash tone.
"I don't get it, Rob. Why would he hate me? I never did anything to him." Says Coach Steve exasperated. Rubbing his face with his hands.
"I don't think he hates you." She answers, counting absently all the students while entering the museum. "Maybe you should have an honest conversation with Him, you know?"
"How can I have an honest conversation with him when he looks at me all constipated. Like my very existence is bothering him", he starts talking a little bit louder.
"You know what he told me this morning before entering the bus? He told me that I look like a wannabe Sue Sylvester. "
Robin can't control the laugh that bursts out of her chest. "I mean, he's not wrong. Why would you wear that blue tracksuit? "
"It's comfy, It makes my ass look great, and it's on theme. And that's beside the point, I'm not arguing with someone who thinks letter jackets and bandanas are the epitome of fashion."
"Maybe you should reconsider why you care so much." Professor Buckey adds.
Chance drifts a little after that, looking at the exhibition with his peers. He's beside Lucas and Jane now, looking at Will near a recomposition of a Greek statue. He's watching with a look Chance can't describe. Holding a sketchbook close to his chest. Maybe it's the look, maybe it's the fact that he chose to wear a long skirt that it's making the jock struggle a little. This is his chance (pun intended).
"You know Byers. You kind of look like that statue."
Jane and Lucas stop, finding themselves with full attention for what's about to happen. They share a look.
"Why would you say that?" Asks Will, facing Chance lifting an eyebrow up.
"Well, they're beautiful for one. The curls remind me of your hair. The nose. The look they convey." He explains, lifting his fingers. And it was good, it's going really well, smoothly even.
But you see, Chance has a problem, a fatal flaw, really. He can't keep his mouth shut or finish an idea. So he keeps going, going, and going. Every fact follows another one that it's so bizarre Jane and Lucas are starting to worry. Just when she's about to save him he says.
"And you know they also have small dicks," He blurts. Later, he would try to figure out what possessed him to say such a thing (he doesn't really have an answer). He panics and starts blurting. "Not that you have a small dick or that I think about it. But only because I'm really respectful" (He's not) "Not because I feel like it wouldn't be worth the thought. I'm sure it's a regular size dick. A big dick even. I feel like I'm saying dick way too much now, way too much. I'm shutting up." He ends. Chance really needs the earth to open right there and swallow him whole.
The three people in the audience are very quiet. Jane has a hand covering her mouth. She's horrified and doesn't want anyone to hear her laugh (out of respect, you know. Cause she is actually really respectful). Lucas is too stunned to speak. Right now, he wouldn't object to Will hitting Chance. Except something else happens.
Will is red. Like really red. Uncharacteristicly red, which on its own is not easy to achieve with all the makeup he's wearing. The comment may have backfired astronomically. But 6 now, Will is feeling something else. Something he wants to bury really, really deep. So he just walks away with the rest of the class.
After a moment, Jane tells Chance, "If it serves you as any consolation, it started really sweet. I was rooting for you, actually." She looks at him and gives him a tiny smile. Then she looks a little bit further. She thinks about this past month and the way Chance has gravitated towards Will. If she goes even further, she remembers a tiny boy with a missing tooth and a broken arm. And the biggest smile she ever saw directed at his brother while he was drawing a tiger on the casket.
"Maybe next time, dial it a notch. Sometimes, inner thoughts can remain inside. But I wouldn't lose hope yet". Then, she leaves to find Max, they have so much to discuss.
Lucas just grabs Chance's shoulder, "Better luck next time, I guess," and follows her. Chance stays there until Coach Steve and Professor Buckley call him out.
- An Artist Hand and a Nervous Jock.
It's been a few months since the last big fiasco. Chance just knows he has to change tactics. Or the approach. Or something. He can't take it anymore. If Mayfield calls him saying, "How 'you doin' Greek God”, one more time, he's going to combust.
The other thing that hasn't significantly changed since the last time is the fact that he's still fumbling in art class. Which means it is not a surprise when the teacher asks him to stay after class.
"Lawson," She says with a tired tone. "I don't know what possessed you to take my class. You don't seem particularly the artsy type, and there are other classes you could've taken."
He is kind of nervous. He's not afraid of. authority, but he has the decency to look ashamed. "Is there anything I can do?".
"As a matter of fact, yes. I see a bit of potential, or at least something you're trying really hard to express. So I'm going to prove that I'm not heartless." She says taking a long look. "I've already spoken to one of your classmates so he can tutor you. It will help you redirect your energy and approve this curse. And he's on board because it would look good on a college application. A win-win situation." She ends.
"Oh my god, thank you, teach. I promise you I will do my best to fix my grades."
"I expect nothing more of a student like you, mister Lawson."
"Whis is going to be my tutor?"
"Will Byers," says, with finality. Chance jumps to touch the roof after he exits the classroom.
Later that week, they met after class in the art room. Will is using the keys provided by the teacher. Chance states, "Did it hurt when you felt out of the sky, Byers?"
Will takes a breath. "Chance if you're saying because I look disheveled, I'm going to stop you right there." He says while looking for everything they need. "It's been a long week, a long day even, I didn't have time to put any make up or planned for an outfit. So I want this to be over as soon as possible ".
Chance is about to respond that no, it's because he does look like an angel. There's nothing in the world that would make Will look bad. He doesn't think so. But it's then when He remembers Jane's words, "Maybe next time, dial it a notch. Sometimes, inner thoughts can remain inside. But I wouldn't lost hope yet".
So he does what he never does. He backtracks. "I'm sorry, Byers. No, you don't look bad. Sometimes, the things I say don't come out the way I translate them in my head." He tells him, putting a hand on the back of his own neck. "Let me start again by saying thank you. For spending this afternoon helping me. I'm sure you would be way happier doing something ese. I really hope we can improve my work so I won't flunk art class".
Will gives him a tiny smile. It reminds him of Jane. "Don't worry, I was going to go to Mike's. But we fought over me tutoring you. Right now there's no other place I would rather be." He ends, locking his green eyes with the jock brown ones.
Then he adds, "I've seen your work. It's not good but It's not unsalvable. We just have to change tactics and see what medium would work the best for you. Maybe we can make an artist out of you".
Chance is just happy to comply. Maybe it didn't turn out the way he was hoping. But at least it didn't backfire.
- The Angel That Leads You Through Hell.
After weeks and weeks of working together. Chance finally improved his art. He also was able to connect with Will on a whole other level. They still playfully banter. But it hasn't backfired as much as it did.
There's tension in the air. Every time their hands accidentally touch. Every time they smile joking about something stupid.
They started opening up as well. Will about his stressful portfolio that he's about to send for early admission. Chance about the fact that he doesn't really know what he would study at college. About the sports scholarships he's already lined up for. They find each other becoming closer and closer.
So it doesn't really come as a surprise when Chance says. "I don't fucking understand it".
"What you don't understand?" Will asks, sketching something. They're out on the field facing each other. They didn't really want to do the tutoring lessons today. Taking a well deserved break. Chance it's looking at him deeply. Like he's trying to memorize his face.
"The fact that a few years back, even now, there are people calling you zombie boy. Or are scared of you ‘cause you might be a witch".
"I'm not a witch," Will says, "If you find a chicken feet under your bed, it wasn't me" he jokes.
"Well, that's weirdly specific. And exactly the thing I'd have to keep in mind when I look under my bed tonight." Keeps joking, hitting Will's leg with his foot.
"But no. I was going to say that I didn't understand it. Cause you're probably one of the kindest people I've ever met. You didn't have to help me with art class, you hated me. But you did." Will stops drawing to look at him.
"You deserve the world. Fuck those people. I hate that it's something that is said without second-guessing. They should be ashamed, all of them."
"Chance, it doesn't really bother me anymore. After this year, I'm going to be long gone from this town." Counteracts.
"That does not make it right. I see the way it makes you feel. How it affects the confidence you have in your art. And it shouldn't. You have a way of seeing the world that's unique. It's political, it's dark, but it's so, so hopeful. I wish I could take all that pain and guard you from it. But I know, I know it's not what you want. It's what makes you, you. You show them that even when the world is a shit hole, even when everything that's going on makes it feel like we're living in a dystopic reality. You chose to remain kind against all odds."
Chance is almost out of breath. He's ready for Will to counteract like he usually does. Except Will is just looking at him. God, the way he's looking at him. If this is hell, then Will must be the brightest of angels sent to guide him through it.
"Thanks, Chance. That's really sweet." He says smiling, then he adds. "For the record, I've never hated you."
Chance feels like he could fly. So he doesn’t second-guess himself when he’s inviting Will to the game on Friday. He’s already going to be there for Lucas, like he always is. But it’s important to him that he wants to be there for him as well. He can die the happiest man in the world, when Will tells him that he’s going to be there for him as well.
- The Game.
It’s finally Friday’s game. Chance has never been more nervous. He feels like he has something to prove. Especially when Will and his friends join the stands. He feels his heart racing by the second. There’s only one problem. Fucking Wheeler is there to, next to will, with his stupid bennie. And his stupid face. Chance is not stupid, after watching Will for such a long time, he sees the way Mike looks at him. The way he mirrors Chance’s same desire. He won’t get territorial, though. Will doesn’t deserve that.
Lucas, sensing reading the room says, “Dude, I know that face. I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. Will came here to see you”.
It does something to him, he calms himself. Takes a few breaths and focus on the game ahead.
It does help the situation when Will lifts a pancart. It 's beautiful. Yellow and Green cover the whole thing, the colors merging into an even warmer shade. The number #22 is on the center of the thing. Wheeler looks like he’s just eaten something sour.
The game goes on, Lucas and Chance are the stars of the whole thing. They work together effortlessly. And it is in this state of mind that the jock does something so corny and so endearing it becomes a beautiful story.
He looks where Will is seated. He points at him. Signals for his own chest and then signals for the basketball basket. Jane is smiling, proudly. Lucas is hoping for the best. Max is holding her breath. Dustin, oblivious until now after seeing Jane more than the game, is paying attention. And Will? He’s smiling so much it hurts.
But as the ball leaves Chance’s hand, he can feel the trajectory being all wrong. The ball hits a corner of the basket and falls to their rival's hand. He doesn’t have time to see Will. He fucked up, again. He will not be the reason this game is lost.
Mike is feeling livid. “Who does he think he is? Why would he do that? Will, can you see this shit?”. He fixes his beanie, a shameful reminder of why you don’t give yourself an orange mohak without telling your mother.
Will pays him no mind. “Shut the fuck up, shithead” answer Max. “Dude, not cool. Read the room” Dustin adds. Jane just looks at him with a sad face.
On the other hand, Will feels like the world stopped. It’s like a curtain has finally open and he can see the light for the first time in years. All the playful banter. All the weir lines Chance gave him finally make sense. He was flirting, poorly, but it meant something. It meant something and everytime it backfired so much is making will fall so helplessly in love that he doesn’t want to stop.
After the game, Chance was getting ready for an explanation. He waited so he could be the last one in the locker room. Trying to procrastinate the inevitable. So naturally, he was surprised when Will came out of nowhere.
“What are you doing here?” He asks, looking around seeing that they are, in fact, alone. He guesses this is a good way to go as any other. Finally hexed by Will Byers. Alone in his basketball uniform.
“Did you mean it?” Will asks, his expression unreadable.
“What thing?”
“Every time you tried to flirt with me. You weren’t making fun of me. You were trying to flirt”.
“Yeah, listen, I’m sorry. Sometimes my brain doesn’t translate everything I think to express it correctly. Sometimes the things I’m trying to say sound way better in my head.”
“You were flirting with me. Cause you like me”. Will says more certainly now.
“Yep”. He says making a sound. “I’m sorry if it makes you feel uncomfortable. I promise I won’t do it anymore and that I’m going to stay away and…” Chance is not able to finish the sentence. He’s been attacked. By the lips he’s been dreaming about for years now.
It starts sweet, a peck really. But as the time goes by it becomes heated. They are against the lockers. Chance is covering Will’s whole body. Tasting each other. So close it’s becoming a problem. “Will, mahal ko, I’m all sweaty. I’m sorry”.
“Stop apologizing.” He answers. “I love the way you smell. I love the way your muscles feel against me. And I love the way you flirt with me even when it’s so dumb I want to laugh. Please keep doing it”.
“Sure, I will have that in mind”. He answers, caressing Will’s body.
“Great, cause in order for me to keep you, you have to keep doing that”.
Chance is just happy to comply.