Chapter Text
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TW: homophobia, child abuse, Lonnie
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Will POV
The truth was, Will's known something was wrong with him since he was 5 years old. No, he didn’t have some life shattering epiphany at the ripe old age of 5.
It was Lonnie, his father, who pointed it out.
Will had just started kindergarten a week ago, but he already liked being in school more than being at home (that didn’t last). In the next room over, he could hear his parents screaming at each other. The yelling was only slightly muffled by the thin walls separating Will’s bedroom from the rest of the home. Even with the door closed, Will could still clearly hear his mom sobbing and his dad punching the wall. The familiar noise made Will jump slightly.
He could feel tears pooling in his eyes. From Fear? Sadness? He didn’t know, he just knew his dad hated it when he cried. He picked up a crayon, blue, he was going to focus on his picture. Focus on tuning out the screaming, just like Jonathan taught him. Will was making a drawing for his new friend - Mike. A warm fuzzy feeling settled in his chest when he thought of Mike. He had a friend. His first friend (Jonathan didn’t count). It had only been a week, but Mike and Will were quickly inseparable.
Will could hear his dad getting louder, angrier.
“You see! This is what I’m talking about! If you had your way -” broke through Will’s muffled wall barrier.
Will shook his head. Focus. Focus on drawing, not on anything outside his bedroom walls.
He could hear Jonathan turn his stereo up slightly, music worked for Jonathan the same way art worked for Will.
Will was almost done. It was a drawing of the two of them - Mike & Will - on the swings, he just needed to add color to Mike’s T-shirt.
Lonnie’s voice permeated through Will’s quiet space.
“I won’t have you making pussies outta my boys! You coddle them! Make them soft!”
Will’s bedroom door was wretched open.
“See! Look at this shit!” Lonnie screamed as he marched over to Will. Will was terrified. Lonnie’s gaze dropped to what Will was drawing. His face turned a scary shade of purple.
Lonnie harshly grabbed Will’s wrist with his right hand and the offending drawing with his left. He roughly hauled Will to his feet and turned to face Joyce. He held the drawing like a damning piece of evidence.
In hindsight, Will guesses it kind of was.
“Great! So now, not only are both of my boys pussies, but this one is a fucking fag!” Lonnie screamed. The last word was punctuated with Lonnie gripping Will’s little wrist tighter.
Will started to cry harder, he couldn’t help it. He tried to pull his wrist away, but he was only 5 years old. He didn’t stand a chance against his father.
“Lonnie! Don’t call him that!” Joyce yelled defiantly. Even though his mom was bloody and bruised, her voice didn't waver.
“You want this Joyce? Huh? You want your son to grow up to be a queer? Hmm?” Lonnie’s voice dropped in volume, but not in anger.
Will let out a cry of pain when Lonnie’s grip tightened even more. Lonnie was close enough that Will could smell booze coming off his breath. A smell 5 year old Will should not recognize.
“Stop! You're hurting him!” Joyce made to grab Will from Lonnie, but he just hauled Will back.
Jonathan appeared, summoned by his baby brother’s cries of pain.
Lonnie let go of Will. He turned to face Will, purple faced and furious, and tore the drawing in half. He stared Will down as the two halves of his drawing - Mike's drawing- lazily floated to the floor.
Joyce made to grab for Will again and Lonnie slapped her. Will could see the red outline of his father's hand on her cheek.
The crack of his father’s hand hitting his mother gave way to a tense silence.
No one moved.
Will tried to make himself as small and quiet as possible, hoping his dad would forget about him.
Lonnie let out a loud sigh.
“Look, I am not the bad guy. I just want to make sure our boys are raised right, Joyce.” Lonnie took a step further away from Will.
“Tomorrow -” Lonnie paused to point at Jonathan. “He's gonna learn to shoot.”
Lonnie made his way to the doorway and leaned down to look Jonathan in the eye.
“ We're going huntin' for your next birthday and we aren’t leavin' until you prove to me you're not a pussy. Got it?”
With that Lonnie left the room. They could hear Lonnie fumbling around with his car keys and stumbling towards the front door. He left, slamming the door as he did. The sound ricocheted throughout the small three bedroom house.
Will finally made a small heart wrenching noise. It was quiet, but it was enough to pull Joyce into action.
She brought Will into her arms, slowly drawing comforting circles down his back and in his hair.
Jonathan gently picked up the ruined drawing. He tried to tape it back together, but no amount of tape would hide the truth. It was tainted now anyway. He couldn’t give it to Mike.
It took Will a month before he tried drawing again. It took him 2 months before he gifted Mike a picture for the first time - a red dragon.
Remembering it now, it was more like a red circle with 2 triangle wings, but Mike’s whole face lit up with awe when he saw it. He thanked Will profusely and placed the drawing carefully in his school binder, as if it were the most precious gift he'd ever gotten.
Will made Mike hundreds of drawings since then, although he doubts Mike kept any of them.
Art has always been Will’s escape - his safe space- and it felt right sharing it with the person who made him feel the safest.
Until now.
God. He was so stupid.
So so stupid.
Will looked around Castle Byers, the rain made little tap tap noises on the blue tarp draped around the fort.
Drawings, pictures, comics and toys decorated his precious fort.
‘It’s not my fault you don’t like girls’
Since Lonnie first pointed it out, it’s like the title was stamped on Will’s forehead.
Will got it from everyone; bullies, parents, even complete strangers called him queer, fairy, fag. They said either to his face or under their breath. And he got it everywhere; school, home, the streets of Hawkins, but never from his friends. Never from Mike.
‘It’s not my fault you don’t like girls’
Will felt tears form in his eyes. A sob tore its way through his throat. Will picked up a picture of the party - it was from Halloween last year.
He impulsively tore it in half.
Will squeezed his eyes shut. Another sob shuddered through his body. As he braced himself for the next shuddering sob, his breath caught in his chest, he felt a sudden pressure on his neck.
Will whipped his head around, still letting out little whimpers as he did.
Will closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing. The pressure turned into a cold chill, goosebumps rose on the back of his neck. The pressure intensified, it felt like someone had a hold on the scruff of his neck.
Will's eyes snapped open.
Two things happened at once:
1. He felt the hand slip down the back of his neck
2. Castle Byers exploded.
The walls blew out around him, gone in a split second. The roof had been blown away and hung precariously in the neighboring tree.
Will scrambled to his feet.
He did a quick scan around him, adrenaline pumping in his veins. His bike was gone and the Castle Byers sign dangled in some branches 5 feet above him.
Will took off running. He slipped as he ran. The rain had not let up and it made the ground slippery and uneven.
His mind raced, his fear amplified by the dark and dreary atmosphere. Will couldn’t see anything over the rain and couldn’t hear anything over the thunder.
Will ran for his house, completely missing his friends calling for him in the distance.