Chapter Text
Will occupies the playground swings, watching as the other kids play together in the distance. He swings himself, rocking back and forth, finding a small comfort in the movement. Aside from the company of his own family, Will has always been alone, and he can't help the feeling that he always will be. It's hard for him to make friends. They never seem to give him a chance, always looking at him like he's different, as if he's alien and somehow doesn't belong in this world. Will has noticed that sometimes adults look at him like that too. He hears them call him things he doesn't quite understand.
Although he may not know what these words mean, he knows that they're meant to hurt. He knows because they always hurt him, regardless of his lack of understanding.
The end of summer leaves way for the chill that autumn brings. It nips at his bones, eating away at him through the thick layers of his clothing. The start of a new school year was supposed to be an opportunity to make new friends, at least, that's what his mom had told him. She had probably noticed his lack of excitement upon returning back to school. Although Will loves him mom's optimistic spirit, and often tries to embody it in his own way, he can't help but feel like he's a lost cause. It's now October, a month into the school year, and Will is still alone.
Will doesn't understand why anyone would willingly want to move to Hawkins. It's a whisper of a town. Secluded. Lonely. Although the summer brings some warmth, the sweet summer heat is always gone too soon.
Will doesn't like the cold.
He blinks a few times. It hurts to watch the other kids after a while: creates a painful ache in his chest. He averts his gaze away from the other kids, trying to focus, to think about anything else. He forces his gaze to the ground, blinking slowly at the loose gravel in an attempt to force his thoughts elsewhere. He can't help but think how nice a friend would be. Someone to talk to. To share interests with. To laugh with. To spend time with. Who wouldn't judge him or think ill of him for being "different". Maybe this friend would be "different" too? Will can feel himself getting lost in a daydream. He welcomes the feeling.
"Mind if I sit here?" Will hears a voice ask, snapping him back to reality, forcing his gaze back up from the gravel. Before Will stands a boy that he's never seen before, thin and pale and tall with a head of dark wavy hair, pointing at the swing that sits next to him. Will can't help but notice that the boy is looking at him. Directly at him, relaxed, with a tilted smile and a raised eyebrow as if he were talking to someone he knows. A friend. It takes a few seconds for Will to realize that he's not replied yet. "Yeah, uh, sure. It's no problem," Will replies back feebly. He returns a small smile back to the boy, averting his gaze back to the ground. He's scared of scaring the boy away.
All too casually the boy approaches the swing, plopping onto it without saying anything else. For a moment there's a slight pause, the groan of the swingset and the rustle of the chains filling the empty air between them. Will can feel the tendrils of loneliness pulling him back beneath the surface. His dream is not reality. It's dumb to think it ever could be.
"I'm mike, by the way. I'm new here."
A beat passes. Will can feel his anxiety creeping up from chest into his throat, suffocating him. It makes it difficult for words to come out.
"Nice to meet you Mike. I'm Will."
Another beat passes. Then another.
"Why aren't you hanging out with the other kids?"
Will doesn't bother with a verbal response. Instead, he shrugs, his vision blurring out of focus as he keeps his eyes turned downward.
"Well," Mike continues, peering over to Will, nudging him gently with his knee, "seeing as you don't have any friends, and I don't have any friends, what do you say to us being friends?"
Will pauses, bringing his heel down gently to halt his movements. Surely he can't be serious? Why on earth would he want to be friends with Will? A few moments pass and out of Will's peripheral he can see that Mike is still looking towards him, waiting patiently for him to answer.
He is, in fact, being serious.
Will can't help the laugh that bubbles up suddenly from his chest. Nor can he help the smile that blooms on his face. As Will brings his eyes up once again from the ground, he looks to Mike. Will can't help but think that the boy - Mike - has kind eyes.
"Yeah, I think I'd like that."