Chapter Text
Back in Hawkins High.
Back at the same locker.
Back walking the same halls where everyone pretended nothing insane had ever happened.
Normal. This year was supposed to be normal.
He could handle normal.
He could not handle Chance Harper.
Will realized this the moment Ms. Click turned from the chalkboard and said, “I’ve assigned your partners for the end-of-year literature project.”
There was a groan that rolled across the classroom like a wave.
Will barely paid attention. He already knew how this would go. He would get paired with someone quiet, someone who would let him do the work in peace, someone who wouldn’t—
“Byers and Harper.”
The chalk snapped in Ms. Click’s hand.
The room went silent for half a second.
Then someone behind Will muttered, “Oh man.”
Dustin.
Will didn’t move.
He didn’t blink.
He didn’t breathe.
Because maybe if he stayed perfectly still, reality would correct itself.
It did not.
Across the room, Chance Harper loudly said, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
A few kids laughed.
Will slowly closed his eyes.
Of course.
Chance Harper. Basketball team. Loud. Obnoxious. Former certified jerk. The same guy who had punched Dustin in the face sophomore year and only apologized because Hopper had gotten involved.
The universe had a sick sense of humor.
“Use today to start planning,” Ms. Click said cheerfully, unaware she had just ruined Will’s entire semester.
Will stared at the blank page of his notebook as he heard the scrape of a chair and the unmistakable sound of someone walking toward him with far too much confidence.
Then a chair turned backwards and dropped beside him.
Will didn’t look.
He didn’t have to.
“So,” Chance said, leaning his arms across the back of the chair. “You’re the smart one. This is fantastic news for me.”
Will inhaled slowly through his nose.
“I’m not doing this for you,” he said.
Chance leaned closer, trying to peek at Will’s notebook. “You absolutely are.”
Will slid it away.
“I’m doing this so I don’t fail.”
Chance grinned. “See? Teamwork already.”
Will finally looked at him.
Up close, Chance looked… different than Will remembered. Still loud. Still messy hair. Still that cocky smile. But there was something else there too. Something less sharp than it used to be.
“You do realize this project is worth thirty percent of our grade,” Will said.
Chance blinked. “Okay, first of all, that’s terrifying. Second of all, you look like the kind of guy who color-codes his notes, so I think we’re fine.”
Will quietly slid his notebook farther away.
He did color-code his notes.
He hated that Chance had guessed that.
He hated that it was right.
He hated that this day had already been awful before this.
Because of Mike.
Because of the argument before first period that still burned in his chest.
“You don’t talk to anyone anymore.”
“You know why that is…”
“You’re not the only one that lost her.”
He hadn’t meant to say it like that.
But Mike had deserved it.
And now the words sat in his stomach like a stone.
“What’s the project even about?” Chance asked, pulling Will back to the present.
Will turned the paper toward him. “Comparative literature. Two novels. Theme connection. Presentation at the end of the year.”
Chance stared at the sheet like it was written in another language.
Then he looked at Will.
Then back at the sheet.
“So we’re dead.”
Will pressed his lips together, trying not to lose his patience.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Chance leaned closer, lowering his voice. “If you glare at me any harder, I might start thinking you like me.”
And something about the ridiculousness of that sentence — maybe mixed with how exhausted he was, how irritated, how done with the day — hit Will so suddenly he laughed.
A real laugh.
Loud.
Bright.
The kind he hadn’t made in a while.
It slipped out before he could stop it.
And the moment it did, Chance went completely still.
Will noticed.
Because Chance wasn’t laughing.
He was staring.
Not joking. Not smirking.
Just staring at Will like he had just seen something he didn’t expect to exist.
Will felt heat rise to his face. “What?”
Chance blinked like he had forgotten how. “Nothing.”
But he didn’t stop looking.
And for a strange second, Will forgot about Mike. Forgot about the project. Forgot about how much he didn’t want to be here.
Because there was something in the way Chance was looking at him that made his stomach feel oddly warm.
He looked back down at the paper quickly.
“Let’s just start,” Will muttered.
Chance nodded.
But he didn’t look at the paper.
He kept looking at Will.
And he didn’t know why.