Chapter Text
Dear Will,
Earlier today, you left. Watching your car drive further and further away hurt way more than I thought it would.
The further it went, the more I realized that I didn't take enough advantage of our time together. I should've hugged you tighter, longer. I should’ve initiated more hangouts for just us two.
(I asked around and learned that you’ve had sleepovers with everyone except me! That's crazy! Next time you visit, you’re spending the night at my house.)
I hope Cali treats you well, in fact, I hope it’s totally tubular, but being without you is gonna be hard. The party needs our dear and loving Cleric.
(I'll miss El too btw, but we're closer so it’s different y’know? Besides, Max will do the work of missing her for me.)
I don’t wanna hog all your time with this letter (I'm sure Mike sent you a whole novel), but overall I hope you’re doing ok.
Change is scary. Don’t hesitate to write or call if you need anything.
From, Lucas
P.S. I meant it when I said that I want to make up for our lost time. So here are some questions I'd like to know
.
1. Why did you choose ‘Will the Wise’?
2. If you had to play a sport, what would it be?
3. Is it ok if Erica uses your old kit? (Dustin and I already gave it to her, but I can take it back and get her a new one.)
When Will and El first moved away, it was easy to promise that he'd write to them every month.
The novelty of grabbing a pen and paper and waxing poetry about the mundanity of his days was exciting. It was a fun new normal. Like picking up a workout routine.
Each time he grabbed his pen, he felt this motivation to write a letter that would make Will’s day. A letter that would make him still feel at home. The Byers’ move was hard on him, but he still has almost instant access to Mike, Dustin, and Max. Will doesn’t have that anymore.
He does have El, which according to Mike and Max, is an advantage, but….it’s not the same.
She’s not his friend anymore, she’s his sister now. And if his relationship with Erica is anything to go by, he’s gonna need his friends.
Not to mention that Will and El hardly know each other. Will’s basically alone
Which is why he tries so hard in his letters. Because honestly, the distance has made him realize that he’s only a few experiences ahead of his relationship with Will being exactly like his and El’s.
Watching the car drive away made him realize they drifted and that he’s not ok with that.
He was nothing but a complete asshole to Will all summer. All he wanted was one campaign! Will accepted his apology, but there's no denying that there's been distance between them.
He’s clearly not fully over their fight and Lucas can’t and won’t fault him for it.
But that doesn’t change the fact that the unresolved tension is making him anxious. He can’t lose him.
He won’t let it happen. He’s gonna re-learn Will and atone for his behavior. He can do that through letters. They can keep Will company and feel like Lucas is right there with him. They can remind him that no matter what they’re best friends.
The day Will left, Lucas swore that he’d take care of everyone in his absence. Will was included in that promise.
Lucas made sure to send Will 2 letters each month. In return, he got 2 letters back. One at the beginning and one at the end.
Sometimes he even sent a third one for El and Will to read together.
He stayed consistent the rest of October and all of November.
But as he settled into the sour new reality of Hawkins-post-Will Byers, his letters slowed down.
Pretending to be happy is hard when his arguments with Max become more and more frequent and intense alongside his straining relationship with Mike and Dustin.
His last letter to Will was a single page sent on December 3rd. He didn’t write for the last week of December, nor did he open Will’s response to the letter he sent in late November.
(He ignored Erica’s stare when he didn’t deposit a letter on the kitchen table for their dad to take to the post office. It seemed she already had an assumption in her head. An assumption he didn’t have the energy to correct.)
He didn’t mean to stop writing; he genuinely loved writing to Will.
Conversing with Will through paper was surprisingly refreshing.
Lucas found that when it was just the two of them, their dynamic was drastically different.
With the party, Will was quiet, sarcastic, the peacekeeper, kind, and most of all, Mike’s person.
It was no secret that Mike held Will to a higher regard than the others. The two always seemed to be in something. Like they were in their little bubble that everyone else revolved around.
It’s because of this “bubble” that Lucas feels he never truly got to know Will.
Even when their world seemed to be ending, Lucas and Will were always within proximity, but never close.
Never truly bonded.
It was Mike who was the first to hug Will when he woke up.
It was Mike who accompanied Will in the hospital while he was possessed (he would've gone too if he had known the truth).
It was Mike who took him home when he had a panic attack Halloween night, not even giving Dustin or himself a chance to speak to the boy.
Mike got to help with Will’s Exorcism. (Personally, if he had known that they were all going to take turns sharing core memories with Will, he would’ve fought harder to be included.)
It was always Mike. MikeandWill.
But not when they wrote to each other. On colored stationery paper, it was Will and Lucas. Not Lucas and Dustin and Willandmike.
Just Lucas and Will.
Lucas, who knows about Will’s current obsessions, art projects, his developing relationship with El, his growing disdain for his haircut, how dark and sarcastic his humor actually is, and how much he enjoys talking to Lucas.
When they wrote, Mike never came up.
What came up were random hypothetical questions that Lucas thought would be cool icebreakers.
If you were sent on a mission to space for a month, would you pack more water or more food?
Personally, I’d pack more food. Dustin thinks I’m stupid for choosing food over water, but I’m curious, what do you think?
His chest swelled whenever he could bring up his conversations with Will around Mike and witness his shock.
(“Seriously, Will chose food over water? That's so fucking stupid.”)
It’s silly. He’s well aware, but it's nice to have his own thing with someone. His own unique thing with Will that doesn’t feel second to Mike. His own bubble.
He’s never had that before.
Not even with Max.
In fact, if he thinks about it long enough, it’s their lack of a bubble that makes them fight and break up so often.
But it’s fine since he has one now. He and Will are in something. Something that he wants to keep.
But It seemed like everything overnight everything went …wrong.
It started with Max. She kept up her facade of normalcy much longer than he initially thought. He thought for sure she’d crack under the pressure all the loss she’s experienced after the Byers and El moved away, but she held on.
She still joined them in Mike’s basement for movie nights, sleepovers, and even stayed to watch their campaigns. (Erica joined in as a fill-in for Will.) She still smiled, laughed, and impulsively broke up with Lucas just to make up the next morning.
She seemed perfectly fine. But what builds up must eventually come down and Maxine Mayfield was no exception.
She became irritable. Nothing could not piss her off. She pulled away from hugs, hand-holds, and kept her eyes open during kisses. Lucas knew that the root cause was their horrific summer together.
She lost her brother, her best friend, and her family. He knew that. The whole party knew. The people who would understand better than anyone what she was going through.
Yet, she refused to talk to them.
As her boyfriend and friend, Lucas shouldered the responsibility of getting Max back on track. He has to take care of everyone. He tried Solo dates, love letters, helping her unpack her stuff in her new trailer, reassuring her that no one is judging the fact that she lives in a trailer, he tried everything.
But her mind was made up, she was insistent on being miserable.
Each attempt was harder than the last but he wouldn’t stop. He kept going, and going, and going until she snapped.
He found that when Max feels cornered, she’ll say anything to scare you away. Like a scared stray dog that’s all bark and no bite.
(“You’re right, it’s not my fault. It’s yours! None of this would've happened if i never met you in that stupid fucking arcade. You ruined everything! Are you happy? I said what’s on my mind! You killed my brother. You Pestering me to open up is really just you trying to bury your guilt. Leave me alone!”)
He knew she didn’t mean it. She felt cornered, trapped. Max only opens up when she wants to. He should’ve known that. He should’ve known that inviting her out to Lover's Lake for an intervention was crossing the line.
What she needed was time to cry, to mourn, and he wasn’t letting her have it.
He was being selfish, trying to bandage her pain for his own personal gain. To make himself feel like he’s coping with everything just fine because he can keep his girlfriend and his friends happy.
He was projecting onto her. She was so right about that. But she was so wrong about Billy. He knows that. He knew that. She’s like a stray dog, she didn't mean it.
Earlier today, if he was questioned about the Starcourt incident, Lucas would’ve said he had nothing to do with Billy Hangrove's tragic end. But now, seeing Max’s down casted eyes, a crippling thought crept up: Maybe I did kill him.
Why did he invite her to the arcade that day? Was it really because he couldn’t stand leaving her in the dark or because he wanted to seem cool and one-up Dustin?
Everything he once was so sure of now sits unclear in his mind and it’s scaring him. He broke up with her later that day.
His hoarse voice spoke his final goodbye to a Walkie that he’s not even sure she has anymore.
(“Let's break up, you need space. Over and out”)
Days passed and he realized that breaking up with Max wasn’t enough. Her final words followed him into his sleep.
If he closes his eyes, he can still clearly see himself stabbing Billy to death in place of the Mindflayer.
He can still hear her shrill cry. "Billy!" Eyes as wide as her skull allows. He needs to do something, and it’s not writing. He’s been falling behind, but he can’t find it in him to respond to Will’s letter. He can’t send a response in his current state.
If he picks up his pen he fears he’ll confess. Will can’t know.
To clear his head from his smoldering thoughts, he joined the basketball team.
The initiation cheers from his new teammates, the deafening thud of a basketball smashing into the ground after a successful three-point throw, the squeaks of sneakers kissing the floor, drowned out the murderous loop in his head.
(I didn’t kill Billy, I didn’t kill Billy, I didn’t kill Billy, I didn’t kill Billy, I didn’t kill Billy, I didn’t kill Billy-).
His new social status at school served as a great distraction as well. More time spent rejecting girls meant less time spent questioning his reality.
(Am I really a good person?)
He never told Mike or Dustin why he joined basketball so abruptly, and he didn’t intend to. Telling them he joined the jocks because Max blamed him for Billy’s death isn't gonna fly by them easily.
Telling them the truth would mean villainizing Max. (Mike was just now learning to tolerate the girl, telling the truth would ruin everything.) She’s hurting. She needs her friends. Even if Lucas isn’t in that picture, he wants her to be saved and happy.
So instead, he vomits a bullshit explanation about being sick of being bullied (which was true), and how Mike and Dustin being best friends with a basketball player can shield them from bullies and make them popular.
In true Mike and Dustin fashion, they called him out on his bullshit.
As an act of protest, the two made a show of never attending his games. Claiming they already had plans. (“You can’t just cancel? Hellfire is this week.”)
It was complete bullshit, hellfire campaigns took place once a month to accommodate the time Eddie needed to write said campaigns. They could’ve gone, they simply did not want to. It’s complete bullshit.
Mike one said that 'bullshit’ was Nancy’s word. Yet here they are actively bullshitting each other like that’s how they’ve always been. Like they never took a vow to never lie to each other. He’s bullshit for lying, Mike is shit being shit, Dustin is shit, everyone is shit! The blatant, shameless lying is shit!
But in true Lucas fashion, he plays along with their ruse and says, “no I can’t sorry.”
In spite of how infuriating their obsessive attachment to Hellfire is, he knows it’s really just a coping mechanism for the two of them.
Joining Hellfire and making it their world was them atoning for the mockery they made of the game and of Will for still wanting to play.
He too looks back on last summer and wishes he took Wills' campaign seriously. If he could go back, he would’ve told Will to “give him a minute” and he would’ve gone home and returned to Mike’s basement in full costume ready to play. He understands their guilt, he feels it too.
So when they lie to him, he lets them get away with it. It’s the least he can do, everyone is hurting.
Besides their friendship isn’t totally lost, they still had sleepovers, and Lucas (of course) was still expected at the hellfire campaigns, and they occasionally hit up the arcade when they could.
They were as close as they possibly could while ignoring the widening gap between the three of them. They’re still friends. Best friends, as Mike would call it. They’re just best friends that never show up to his basketball games.
He considered calling them out on their selfish behavior, but he decided against it. This is just something that he has to force himself to be ok with.
Something tells him that if he tries to address it, he might risk losing Mike and Dustin for good.
So he stays quiet.
Though a crawling thought does cross his mind whenever he looks into the bleachers after a game.
“Will would’ve come for me.”
Lucas did not stop thinking about him. It’s been a month since he's written, and each day feels harder than the last.
How can he pick up a pen and write to him when the party’s falling apart? Besides, he already missed 2 letter deadlines. sending one now, with nothing good to say, would only make him look worse.
How could he write to him and tell him that while Max is grieving , he broke up with her? Or that he feels like he’s losing himself and all of his close friends?
He promised to take care of everything in his absence. He promised and went off and made a mess of things. He’s still making a mess of things.
Writing to Will meant confessing his wrongs, it meant disappointing him. Losing him. He can’t risk that.
He keeps track of the days as a month turns into 2 months since writing to Will.
The crushing weight of everything hurts more and more.
Basketball stops feeling like an escape and more like a shackle the longer he’s forced to sit out on the bench with Erica watching pitifully from afar.
Max has since come back and has been trying to make amends without actually apologizing, but he can’t find it in himself to accept her crumbs of an apology.
He feels like he’s drifting farther away from Dustin and Mike and doesn’t know if he’s willing to breach the distance.
Why does he have to fix it? They’re the problem!
The 2 months are inching toward 3.
He finally cracked when he won the winning shot for their homecoming game, and stared into the empty bleachers.
He blinks back the mist in his eyes and lets out a victorious cry. His teammates carry him all over the gym as people chant his name. (Lucas! Lucas! Lucas!)
It’s a great distraction. But all he can think about is Will.
Will would’ve been there for me and it would’ve been enough.
When he’s finally alone in the locker room, the tears come back. He lets them fall this time. They spill in heavy, hot, almost burning cascades.
His nose starts to run, his lips tremble, and he lets out weak whimpers as he hangs his head low. It’s when the Janitor reluctantly kicks him out that he decides that he needs to end his own suffering.
He needs to write to him. Even if he doesn’t get a response back, or loses a friend, he has to try.
He goes home and picks up his pen. The words fly out of him in a fury of rushed sentences and tear stains. He doesn’t bother proofreading the finished product like he used to.
Without a second thought he folds it, places it in an envelope and places it on the kitchen table for his father to take tomorrow morning.