Chapter Text
Thursday, April 23rd, 1987
Will wakes up without his blanket.
When he goes searching for it, he finds it tossed about half-way across the room, cluttered into a small bundle on the floor. The memory of last night comes back to him in a haze; he remembers something about the air in the Wheelers' basement, the feeling of it nipping something warm under his skin. His hand coasts over his chest where he feels his shirt damp with sweat, still sticking to his body as he lightly tugged at it. As he sits up on his mattress with Jonathan still sleeping soundly next to him on the couch, Will wonders idly to himself: I hope I'm not getting sick.
Will gets up from the floor, his movements slow and sluggish, as he gets ready for the day. It's rare for him to be up before the alarm clock on the coffee table blares its morning song, jolting both he and Jonathan awake, but he supposes it's a good thing. He always hated the sound of it, yanking him out from the lulls of his dreams— though sometimes it's much needed. Sometimes, when he's haunted by towering, shadowy figures and long, grasping tendrils, he needs that alarm to shock him awake.
Another bonus to him being awake so early is that he gets first dibs on the shower. The basement bathroom is pretty dingy, but after living with the Wheelers for a little over a year now, Will has gotten used to it. He's gotten used to that perpetual scent of mold and dirt, which seems stronger to him now as he wrinkles his nose at the smell of it. He's gotten used to how the water never really got that hot, just barely above room temperature— though right now, Will thinks it's a god send. The warmth under his skin is getting hard to ignore, and the splash of cold water over his body brings it down from simmering. He washes away the build up of sweat from last night, though its origins are something he's unsure of. Either way, he leaves the bathroom all dressed for the day, feeling refreshed. Normal.
"You're up early," Jonathan groans. He's still tucked tightly beneath the covers, blinking at Will through bleary eyes.
"Yeah, just woke up before the alarm, I guess," Will answers. There really isn't much more to say about that. "I'll save some toast for you upstairs."
"Mmm, thanks…" his older brother mumbles, already falling asleep again.
Will makes his way upstairs, following the familiar scent of morning breakfast: eggs and hashbrowns, applesmoked bacon, buttered toast, and black coffee. His stomach growls in response. He trails over to the kitchen, where Mrs. Wheeler is still preparing plates of food.
"Good morning, Mrs. Wheeler," he greets.
"Oh, good morning, Will!" Mrs. Wheeler beams in return. "It's nice to see you up early."
"Did you need help with anything?" he asks politely.
Mrs. Wheeler smiles brightly as she runs her hand through his chestnut hair. She always loved ruffling it up, ever since he was a kid. "If you don't mind, could you set up the table for me, and wake up the rest of the house when you're done?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oh, please, Will. Just call me Karen."
Will nods shyly before he grabs a whole stack of plates and starts setting up the dining table. Usually this job is reserved for Holly, but it seems she's still asleep. Will doesn't mind, he actually quite likes how calm and quiet the morning was. Mrs. Wheeler had the blinds open, sunlight bathing the inside of the Wheeler house. Will could hear the sounds of birdsong outside. It's peaceful.
Peaceful, except for this strange hum underneath his skin. He brings a hand up to his neck and rubs the back of it. He hopes it doesn't mean anything.
Once the plates and cutlery are set, Will heads upstairs for his next task: to wake up the rest of the household. His mom is up first, located right in the home office-turned guest room. He knocks lightly on the door before turning the knob and poking his head in.
"G'morning," he calls out, eyes landing on Joyce as she's barely sitting up from the pull-out couch.
Joyce's eyes widen as she looks at her son. "Oh, you're up early!"
Will has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Does he really have such a reputation for sleeping in to get that response every time? (The answer is yes). "Yeah, just helping Mrs. Wheeler out and making sure everyone's awake."
"Well, I'm sure she's grateful for all the help, sweetie." Joyce smiles at him, getting up from the couch and walking over to ruffle her son's hair. Second time that's happened this morning, but Will doesn't complain. He crinkles his nose in faux-annoyance. Then, something passes over Joyce's face. "Did you shower already?" she asks.
"Yup, might as well before Jon hogs the bathroom again," Will replies. "…Is something wrong?"
Joyce looks over her son one more time. "No, it's nothing. I'll be down in a few."
Will closes the door behind him as he leaves, heading down the hall to the next door. Nancy's door is across from Holly's, and since he could already hear movement coming from Nancy's room, Will decides to knock on Holly's first. He taps lightly on the wood about three times, waiting for some kind of response or noise on the other side.
"Holly?" he calls out, but there's no response. He tries knocking again, but when he still doesn't hear anything, he says, "I'm coming in!"
He opens the door to Holly's room and is blasted with bright pinks and white frills. Will can't really remember the last time he was in this room— probably when Holly was still a baby. Now that she's older, she's decorated the place with stuffed animals and bright toys, all signs of a budding kid who's growing into her own. Speaking of the kid, Will could see that she's still tucked in tightly underneath mounds of blankets and quilts. He sits at the edge of her bed, the cushion sagging underneath him, and shakes Holly's shoulder.
"Holly, wake up," he says gently. The girl groans in response. "C'mon, Hols— if you don't wake up, Mike's gonna steal all the orange juice downstairs."
Holly seems to stir a bit at this. She looks up at Will, eyes barely open. "Mike doesn't drink orange juice— you're the one who steals it all," she mumbles out.
"Ah, caught me." Will grins, reaching forward to mess with Holly's already-messy hair. "Well, you still need to get up. I already took over for you downstairs and got the table ready."
"And you steal my job, too?" she says teasingly.
"You know what they say— The early bird gets to set the table up for the rest of the house," Will jokes. He gets up from the bed, looking down where Holly digs deeper into her sheets. He smiles. "Get up whenever you're ready, okay? Don't want to have your mom yelling at you to wake up."
"Mmm," Holly hums into her pillow. "Hey, Will?"
"Yeah?"
"Y'smell kinda good today."
Will blinks at her. "What?"
But Holly's already sleeping again. Will just stares down at her, slightly confused. That was the second weird thing that happened to him this morning, bar the warmth that's been quietly thrumming in the back of his head. First the comment his mom made, and now this. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, bringing it up to his nose and taking a deep breath. It smells… normal. He doesn't remember using a new shampoo in the shower, and he's not sure if Mrs. Wheeler ever changed laundry detergents— he has no clue where else the new scent could be coming from.
Oh, well. Best not dwell on it.
When Will steps back into the hallway, he runs into Nancy.
"Oh, shit— Sorry," Nancy says as their shoulders bump against each other. "Oh, Will, you're—"
"—Up early, I know," Will deadpans.
Nancy rolls her head to the side, eyebrow cocked. Will knows that look— Jonathan calls it 'that inquisitive twinkle in her eye,' the one she gets whenever she's noted something interesting. "That's a little odd. You're always, like, the last person to wake up. You and Jon have that in common."
"Is it really that weird?"
"Yeah, it kinda is."
Will crosses his arms over his chest, pouting a little. "Well, I'm awake, so…"
Nancy smiles at him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything." She glances over Will from head to toe, that twinkle still present in her gaze. If Nancy mentions anything about his scent, he'll be three for three in that department, and it's barely even seven in the morning. But she doesn't say anything (thank God). "I'll see you downstairs," she says instead, brushing past Will and down the hall.
As she passes, a draft of wind follows her. Will catches note of it and scrunches his nose at the scent it leaves. He's known Nancy to wear floral perfumes, ever since her mom bought her first bottle in middle school. Will always liked the smell of it, even as a kid, since it matched the fantasy elf-persona she had when they were younger, playing make-believe in the Wheelers' backyard. Beautiful and elegant, like the woman she is now. Except, there was a subtle shift in the scent. As Nancy passed, Will is certain he picked up notes of gunsmoke and pine. He's never smelt that on her before.
Will shakes his head at the sudden dizziness that fogged his mind. He should probably finish up upstairs so he can head back down to eat.
He walks to the end of the hall, stopping right in front of Mike's door. Out of all the doors in the house, Will is the most nervous to knock on this one. A little over one year of living under the same roof, and things between Will and Mike still feel weird. Part of him would rather wake up Ted Wheeler (just a tiny part), but he's already downstairs in his La-Z-Boy and reading the morning paper.
He doesn't know why it ended up like this. Ever since returning from California, Will and Mike barely talked unless it was about setting up for their crawls, or asking if Will has felt anything new from Vecna or the hivemind. The answer was always no, which should be a good thing, but sometimes Will wonders if Mike would treat him like he used to if he said yes.
Maybe Mike knows about the painting, about his lie. Maybe Mike knows that Will is different, which is why he's acting this way. There's nothing in the world Will wants more than for things between him and Mike to go back to normal.
He raises his hand, hovering it just above the wood's surface. He's about to knock, but he hesitates. He's about to knock, but then the door swings wide open before he can even move.
"O-oh, Will."
Will notices the smell before he even notices Mike. It's like as soon as the door opens, a wave of musky scent crashes into him, overwhelming his senses. It smells of cedarwood and streets after the rain— deep and earthy, something Will has never noticed until now. He always thought Mike's scent was subtle, but this was anything but.
The warmth under his skin is getting increasingly hard to ignore.
"Woah," Mike reaches forward to catch Will by his shoulders— Will didn't even realize he was swaying. "Are you okay?"
"S-sorry, just…" Will trails off. His skin tingles right underneath where Mike's fingers dig into his shoulder. It's making it hard for him to focus. "I just got a little lightheaded…"
Mike bites his bottom lip. "Have you eaten yet?" Will shakes his head when words don't find him. "Okay— Let's get you downstairs. Let's go eat, okay?"
Mike still hasn't let go of Will's shoulders. In fact, Will doesn't even want to go downstairs anymore. He wants to stay right here, in Mike's grasp. He feels his body shrink into itself, wanting Mike to take him further into his arms.
"Mike? Will?" comes a voice from downstairs.
It's like Will was plunged into a cold shower. The haze immediately washes away, and he's suddenly conscious of Mike's grip on his shoulders. Will quickly pulls away from him. He tries not to read too deep into Mike's hurt expression.
"W-we're coming!" he yells back— to whom exactly, he's not sure. He shoots a glance at Mike, whose brows are still furrowed in worry. "We should probably head down."
"Yeah."
Will and Mike head downstairs for breakfast. They don't talk much during the whole meal. Will can feel Mike's gaze burrow into the side of his skull, and he does his best to ignore it. There's a small part of him that preens at the constant attention from Mike. Will does his best to ignore that, too.
The school day is a blur. Will walks down from hall to hall like a zombie, dragging his feet behind him as he does so. Dustin and Lucas don't seem to notice the change in his behavior, but Mike wouldn't stop staring at him the whole day— ushering him to every class, hovering over his shoulder as he gathered his books from the locker. Mike has always been like this since they've known each other, protective if a bit overbearing, but it's never been like this. He hasn't been as touchy as this, not with Will— and especially not in a while. And just like that morning, Will hates how much he leans into every touch, every bump of the shoulder or brush of the knee. He hates the way his body envelops with warmth whenever he catches the scent of cedar from Mike.
Will is starting to hope he's just sick. He's starting to hope that Mike's only acting this way because he's sick; he's the pack alpha, after all. He has to watch over his pack mates and make sure they're okay. This isn't any sort of special treatment, it's just Mike's role, his job. He would do this for anyone else if they were sick.
Though of course, deep down, Will wishes Mike would treat him like he's special.
When lunch period comes, Will decides to head to the nurse's office instead of the cafeteria. His headache is becoming too much to bear, and there's no doubt in his mind that the heat radiating off of him is the result of some fever. He probably just needs some medicine from the nurse and to have the front office call for his mom or for Mrs. Wheeler. Then he can get back to his mattress on the cold floor of the basement, wrap himself in mounds of blankets, and sleep off whatever sickness he had.
It should be easy, except Will should've known that nothing in his life has been easy.
"Hey, Zombie Boy!"
Will doesn't respond to the name anymore; he knows better than to react whenever he hears it. Instead, he continues to walk down the hall without another word.
"I'm talking to you, Zombie Boy!" the voice tries again, louder and angrier this time.
But Will keeps walking. He keeps walking, even as he hears several footsteps stomping towards him. Will couldn't hold back a flinch as a hand slams into the lockers, someone's arm blocking his way forward. He's suddenly crowded by a few other bodies, air filling with the scent of sweat and spray deodorant. It's Andy and his gaggle of jocks, all looking leeringly at Will.
"Where do you think you're going, Byers?" Andy asks with a wolfish grin, leaning into Will's space.
Will can feel himself getting dizzy again, the scent of the jocks overpowering his senses. He can barely mutter out through gritted teeth, "None of your business, Andy."
"Aw, the poor little bitch can barely speak," jeers Andy again. "Guess we should've expected this, huh? Should've known that a fairy like you would be walking around smelling like a whore."
Will can't register what Andy is saying. The words fly into one ear and out the other as he struggles to breathe. He feels like he's suffocating, his limbs falling to his side, numb and unmoving. He presses his back against the cold steel of the lockers behind him as Andy leans in closer still, trying to get as far away from the alpha jock as possible. Andy takes a deep breath, like he's slurping up the air between them. It sends shivers down Will's spine.
"Fuck, I hate to say this, but you smell pretty good for a queer, Byers." Will can feel Andy's hot breath hovering over the skin of his neck.
"Hold on, let me get a whiff, too," says one of the other jocks.
"Back the fuck off, Lawson!" Andy yells, and Will flinches at the sound. "I found the omega first, so I got first dibs."
Will shakes his head. "N-no… Please, stop…" he whimpers.
Andy leans back into Will's space, his voice dropping to a whisper by Will's ear. "Should've known better than to walk around these halls smelling like that, Zombie Boy. Now I'm gonna eat you up."
Will clenches his eyes shut. His heartbeat is thrumming loudly in his ears, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. He hears Andy open his mouth to bare his teeth, that distinct sound of pooling saliva ringing to his very core. He braces himself for impact, but it never comes.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!"
The scent of dark, bitter coffee fills the air. When Will finds the courage to open his eyes again, he watches in shock as Andy is quickly and roughly yanked off of him. The sudden and unexpected force of the pull lands Andy on his rear as he looks up at his assailant. It's Mike. His eyes burn bright with fury, fists clenched tightly to his side until they're white-knuckled. He towers over Andy, fangs bared.
"What the fuck were you doing to Will?" he shouts down at him.
"None of your fucking business, frogface," Andy spits back.
"Oh, it is our business." Lucas appears next to Mike, his gaze just as intense. "It's best if you guys scram, or else we'll pop your balls like water balloons."
The scent of battling alphas sends Will's senses swimming. He slides down the wall of lockers as his legs finally give out, barely registering that someone has run up to his side.
It's Dustin. He smells of freshly-mowed grass and motor oil. Weird, because Will has never been able to scent the beta before. "Shit— Will, are you okay?"
"N-nurse's office…" he manages to whisper. "Dustin, I-I— I feel weird… Too hot…"
Dustin furrows his brows. "I think you're presenting, Will."
Will just shakes his head. No, that can't be possible, he thinks. He's been a beta his whole life. He would've presented way sooner than this. As if to punctuate Dustin's argument, a sharp pain shoots through Will's abdomen. He lets out a weak whimper at the sensation, a sound so pitiful that Will feels embarrassed by it. He can't be here, not with everyone staring at him like this. He needs to leave, to get away as soon as possible. More than anything, Will is craving the safety and warmth of something he can't describe.
"Will?!"
Mike and Lucas join Dustin and Will on the floor. Will has no clue what happened to the jocks, but he doesn't care. His friends, his pack, look at him with a mixture of worry and fear. Mike reaches forward and grabs Will by his shoulders, just like he did that morning. And despite himself, Will leans into the touch once more.
"Mike…" he breathes out. Alpha, he manages to bite back.
"We gotta take Will to the nurse's office," Dustin says with urgency.
"Yeah, no shit," Lucas adds. "Here, let's get you up, Will—"
"I got him," Mike snaps. He's already moving to wrap Will's arm over his shoulder.
"C'mon man, just let me help—"
"I said I got him."
Mike's words cut through the pack like a knife. Lucas finally backs off. Will has never heard Mike like this before, voice low and strong. It sends another shiver through his body, but unlike with Andy, whose voice sent a chill of fear into his bones, Mike's words resonate with something deep and instinctual within Will. My alpha, he thinks in the haze of his mind. My alpha will keep me safe, my alpha will protect me.
He's never had these thoughts before; they don't feel like his own. He curses at himself for them, and at his body which refuses to cooperate as Mike lifts him up. He can't help himself from digging his face into the crook of Mike's shoulder, breathing him in. Wasn't he just flinching away from Andy for doing this to him earlier? And now he's doing the same thing to Mike— except Mike doesn't pull away. No, instead Mike leans his head atop Will's, cheek pressing against his chestnut hair. Like he wants Will to lean in closer, to stay in that perfect spot right by his scent gland.
"It's okay, Will," Mike coos, his voice soft. Will whimpers as he presses his face closer towards the warmth of Mike's neck. He's searching for his scent, something to ground him as he slowly loses himself. "It's okay— it's just me." Then, Mike's voice drops to just above a whisper, his next words audible only to the both of them.
"It's okay, Will— your alpha's got you."
Will's consciousness leaves him as the scent of fresh cedar and forest rains settles into his skin.