#waldenwritess
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Discord Thread History / Murray's Flop Era
Jonathan Byers x Murray Bauman (@waldenwritess) x Nancy Wheeler (@soemotional)
Thread: Murray's a rlly hot cupid
Murray:
The whole endeavor had started off innocently. Really, it had! With Nancy joining The Weekly Watcher, Murray had wanted to make things official by including headshots on the last page of the paper. It helped build rapport with the audience, he thought. So he'd set out to find a local photographer who could deliver good quality for reasonable rates, and... well, as it turned out, he knew a guy. Murray and Jonathan had kept in touch, of course, though mostly through family dinners at Joyce's place. Murray had seen Jonathan around town a few times, too, with a new girl on his arm. Holly-- a reporter at The Post, as much as he could tell. Murray couldn't penalize the boy for having a type, but he could put two people together in an investigation of sorts. With Gabe's express permission, Murray had tacked up a white sheet to their living room wall to create a makeshift studio for the shots. Now, he was milling about the house, preparing waters (vodka on standby, in case) for his guests. He'd told Nancy to come fifteen minutes before Jonathan, to ensure they didn't run into each other outside and assume Murray was trying to pull a fast one over on them. When he heard a knock, Murray bounded to the door and opened it wide, grinning at his coworker. "Nancy, welcome. There's water in the kitchen, or something stronger if you prefer." Though it was a Sunday, he couldn't resist the urge to talk shop-- just for a minute. "You find anything on that couple in Montana? I know you're writing it up, but... humor me," he flashed a toothy smile. With his family expanding, Murray couldn't travel as much as he was used to-- which was why it was nothing short of serendipitous that Nancy had agreed to come on board when she had. It was a plus that she wasn't tied down, too, though Murray didn't hate the idea of changing that, either.
Nancy:
nancy wheeler was nothing if not punctual! so what if she swerved a little bit through traffic applying her lipstick! she wasn't going to keep everyone waiting. she wouldn't have taken so long though, if she didn't get so caught up in how she was going to look and if she should pin her hair up or let it fall down. it wasn't like the watcher was any big shot paper, but it was rewarding work. still, first impressions were everything, especially as a woman. so, when that first impression was a photograph she wanted to fit the image. eventually, she pieced together something that she labelled as cute and respectable and hauled ass to murray's! she met murray with a quick hug, then shuffled inside, not taking him up on his offer of water or something stronger. instead, she immediately immersed herself into talking about that couple, "well, her husband definitely wasn't replaced by a robot, but there was something...off...from the moment i met him. turns out, he had history working with the state government as some kind of low-down lackey on base of a military facility so i went--" nancy took a breath, then smiled coyly and pointed at murray, "i'll let you read the rest." she eyed her watch, then the door, "so, when's the photographer supposed to get here?" she wasn't in a rush or anything, but, nancy liked to keep up appearences, "it won't take long you don't think? i have a...thing in about an hour."
Jonathan:
Jonathan rolled up to Murray’s place and took a final & rushed drag of his cigarette, squeezing it into ashtray built into his car. It took him a few minutes to organize the mess of equipment in his trunk. Holly had (reluctantly) hauled him to the office a little past 3pm to wrap up a project for immediate press on Monday. Truthfully, he didn’t do much professional photography outside of his work with The Post - besides a couple weddings for Holly's friends over the last year. This was his first friends & family gig other than being passed the camera at household events. He generally liked to keep it that way but saying no to Murray wasn't an option and, honestly, he was happy to help. The buffer in his bank account was also welcome at this time of year, as much as he initially refused to talk about his rates. Dimming the financial impact of his last few road-trips along the coast to visit Holly's family was a nice bonus in his eyes. He trotted up the driveway and opted for the doorbell, adjusting his shoulder bag as he waited for the door to swing open. Murray seemed to be in a chipper mood - great. This was a good start. "Sorry I’m late, I got caught up at The Post and had to pack up my gear.” Jonathan wasn’t the most punctual person, as much as he tried. Murray would know based on the number of times he’d shown up late for his mom’s Sunday dinners. “I have a tripod and reflector in my bag – I can set up wherever you want, really. Have you thought about backgrounds for the shots? I wasn't sure so I brought a few neutral sheets." If not punctual, at least he showed up prepared. For all he knew The Weekly Watcher was orchestrated primarily by Murray himself. This would be an easy gig. Hopefully.
Murray:
Murray's face gave way to a sort of teasing frown, and he tsked his lips. "No killer robots yet... maybe by the twenty-fist century, huh?" he commented, then quieted himself to listen. Murray was hanging on Nancy's every word, a smug satisfaction filling his chest at the mention of government involvement-- wasn't there always? "I suppose it's only fair," he said, though his tone betrayed his desire to hear more. "It's always the military, isn't it? Someone should abolish that shit." Murray busied himself around the living room, moving his knick-knacks and Alondra's toys out of the way as much as possible. "Shouldn't take long at all! Just a few snaps. And the photographer's a real professional," he commented, mischievous gleam in his eye. Just then, the doorbell rang. "Ah! Hold that thought, Nancy." He hurried over to the door and opened it with a smile, waving away Jonathan's apology for his lateness. He'd expected it, after all. "Sure! I've cleared this spot in the living room and went ahead and put up a sheet. You can take it down if you'd rather-- but I thought the light was best here. Mi casa es tu casa," he offered with outstretched arms as they walked into the living room. Moment of truth. "Jonathan, Nancy, Nancy, Jonathan," he motioned between them jokingly. "Nancy's been working on the Watcher for.... six months now?" he asked Nancy. "She's been a great asset, always had the nose for this kind of stuff. Never could've expanded like it has without her." Murray retrieved the water pitcher and glasses from the kitchen and returned, offering it to both of them before pouring a few glasses. "And Jonathan's been working at The Post again, isn't that right? Small world, small town." He hid his pleased smile behind his glass.
#soemotional#waldenwritess#murraysflopera#I made the decision for you whores <3#nancy wheeler becomes holly's enemy after this
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𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄
𝐖𝐇𝐎: lee bennett & cole montgomery ( @waldenwritess )
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: lee bennett was born on the fourth of july and despite living in a new neighborhood brenda bennett still wants the biggest block party for her first born’s special day!
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: the bennett household kitchen, somewhere in georgia, 1975
the only thing that lee liked better about georgia than nebraska is that it was substantially prettier. the rest he wasn’t crazy about. this big bash his mom threw him was nice and all, but none of his friends were really there and meeting all the kids his own age, having to play it cool? well it just made him nervous about his plan to walk onto the football team his senior year. if they were in nebraska, at least one of his buddies like paul or ricky would’ve brought him a joint or a drink for him to sneak behind his mom’s back. or he at least would’ve been able to hide in the barn. but they had traded that for a white picket fence and a beautiful blue two story home-- and it was his fault.
with the clear understanding that none of this guys were going to help the outsider out, lee slipped into the kitchen, only to stop in his tracks at the sight of a boy he hadn’t seen before. he quickly deduced that he must have just arrived, because lee was certain he would’ve noticed his feminine flare pants and silky shirt earlier on in the night if the stranger had been there. the other continued to rummage around in the refrigerator, so lee announced his presence by asking, “can i help you find anything?” he leered a little to the side, trying to get a look at what he was looking for. or maybe just a look of him. back home he was the star of the show, but here he felt so small. it wasn’t something lee was used to. but he still tried anyway as he gestured behind him with his thumb and firmly explained, “refreshments are in the backyard.”
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Band Fantasy 2.0
Paul Johnson x Cole Montgomery @waldenwritess
Thread #1: Cole's Dingy Y/N Band Fanfic
Paul held the guitar high on his abdomen. The pick guard had fallen off the mahogany body a long time ago – fingers calmly strumming down against a scratchy patch of unvarnished wood. He was gearing up for his last song of the night, bar cheering lightly as he transitioned out of his final original tune. With these occasional solo nights, he preferred to end the evening with a cover – mostly as an ode to the crowd. Dingy bars had a tendency to hum along, which was a nice change of pace from radio silence. “Some of you out there might know this next one.” Paul spoke softly into the microphone, flopping sweaty bangs away from his forehead. He proceeded to move the capo down on the fret of his guitar. It gave him an opportunity to break. “I picked it up while driving down the coast last summer – If you know it, I’d love to hear you sing along.” He caught a drift of pink in the crowd, not entirely registering what it was, but stuck on the colour for a moment longer as he began plucking the intro of Bruce Springsteen’s I’m on Fire. Pub dwellers were slow to recognize it. Paul's cover was even more subdued than the original, without a beat to support gravely vocals. His eyes closed in preparation to sing, chest leaning forward into the microphone stand. “Hey little girl / is your daddy home? / did he go and leave you all alone? / I got a bad desire / oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire.” – A coy smile formed. He peered through bangs obscuring his vision, finally glancing back into the crowd. “Tell me now baby is he good to you? / And can he do to you the things that I do? oh no / I can take you higher / oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire [...]” His sweep of the audience halted as he landed on a group of women singing along by the bar. His eyes fluttered away, once more taken off guard by the distracting mop of pink hair.
Maybe it was the power of sticking out in a sea of mushy colours, but Paul stayed on them for a touch longer. Enough to take in their features - fully making eye contact now. It was comfortable for him. “At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet / and a freight train running through the middle of my head / only you can cool my desire / oh, oh, oh, I’m on fire.” He held the stranger's gaze, head cocking back every so slightly to smirk - and also get a better look. The guy wasn't bad looking. Something about the other guy's stare gave him a hunch that it was mutual. The entire thing felt like a playful game of cat and mouse. He continued to power through the song - intermittently returning to find the splash of pink up until the final chorus. It felt nice for a change. He'd performed enough times to have experiences like these - chest weighed down by a curious pair of eyes in the crowd. It was all very much fleeting, but Paul's emotions always ran higher on stage. It wasn't abnormal for him. He managed to find them one last time before the song tapered off, completely exhausted. Paul muttered a genuine “thank you – have a good night!” to the crowd before darting off the stage to find his hard case by the bar, brain completely overridden with pink. Paul brushed it off as he slid his trusted purple pick between his lips, knees bending to tuck away the instrument.
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Discord Thread History: Band Fantasy 1.0
Eddie Munson x Cole Montgomery @waldenwritess
Thread #1: Cole's Sexy Y/N Band Fanfic
tw: drugs
Eddie Munson
Their first song was a wash. It’s not like anyone but himself could tell, but Craig’s drumming was a fucking mess. Probably because of the pre-show coke. Eddie refrained from participating this time around. In fact, he did a pretty good job of showing up at this Lower East Side hole-in-the-wall sober, relying on a lukewarm beer kept by his feet to power through their setlist. The establishment itself wasn’t glamorous. Hell, he was surprised they even had a stage. There weren’t any big lights, backstage, fancy equipment – it was just them, amplifiers, and the sweat dripping down their denim. It was a comfortable environment for Eddie, reminiscent of dive bars that became his makeshift homes along the coast early on his career. The crowd itself was tight in front of the stage but he never paid much attention to the audience while performing. With his feet planted firmly on the tempered hardwood, he kept his eyes on the strings, thighs bucking into the backing of his fender. His eyes only bobbed up occasionally to hit cues with Stacy.
Eddie ended their set with his head tilted back, slinking a single smile at the crowd as a final salutation for the night. Cheering could still be heard as Brody mouthed off his signature thank you spiel, as much as a crowd in a shady bar would holler. He proceeded to prance off the stage with his guitar in one hand and lukewarm beer in the other, polishing it off on his way to the artist’s corner. Twisted Pickle wasn’t playing any gigs tomorrow – which usually meant that they’d all go hard at the after party. It was a familiar routine if they stuck around long enough for the next band to finish. He usually waited around for all the artists to wrap up their performances before taking off. It’s not like the night wasn’t young.
He bee-lined for the bar after packing up his gear. His elbow settled on the counter, yelling above shitty overhead intermission music – who plays U2 after a set like theirs? “I’ll take a rum and coke!” The tender shook their head at his choice. “What? – you don’t have rum? – Coke?” He leaned deeper over the bar to clarify, a playful grin curling at his expression, “Is this a bar?” The dude didn’t find it very funny. New York, what a friendly fucking city. “I’ll have two shots then – whatever you got, thanks.” He reached for the bifold in his back pocket and set down a few bills, fingering the ring on his index finger as the tender poured shots.
Cole Montgomery
Truthfully, Cole had no idea what show he was being dragged to, only that his friend Farrah was bringing a friend and the show was in the Lower East Side, so they wanted to use his place as the meeting spot. He didn't mind much. If not for a few select friends, Cole would never see the outside of his apartment. He was reclusive by nature, and since he'd slowed down on drinking and started on his manuscript, Cole had fallen into a routine of early nights with his cat. There were a few lost months, too, months that turned into half a year of drinking to forget. He’d never been very good at finding a middle ground, so the only way Cole could conceptualize not drinking to forget was locking himself away, the Emily Dickinson-style seclusion. Lately, though, he’d been trying to find a balance… or rather, his friends were forcing him to find a balance. Cole was grateful for a growing community, a group of people who truly cared for him, but it was hard to deny the guilt he still harbored. It felt wrong to let loose and have fun when he'd hurt so many people-- Lee, Max, Jonathan, Will, his mother. The list of people he'd disappointed wasn't short, and maybe he should suffer for that. It was only right, right?
Buzz. The self-loathing would have to wait for tomorrow. Cole spent a few seconds circling his apartment looking for Neetz, and before he could find her the buzzing had begun again, buzzes in rapid succession. “I hear you, Jesus Christ!” he yelled as if Farrah could hear him from the third floor. He was about to give up when he spotted a familiar tuft of black fur wedged between the radiator and the bookshelf. Cole chuckled, gave her a goodbye pat, and shoved his keys and wallet into his pocket. A quick glance at his watch told him they were running late, so he took the steps two at a time and spilled onto the street, breathless. “Fuck you, I heard you the first six times you buzzed,” he greeted his friend with a kiss on the cheek. “Hi, I’m Cole,” he smiled at the new friend. The two blocks to the bar were filled with casual conversation, the weather, other such forgettable things— but Cole’s mind was elsewhere.
As they shrugged into the crowded pub, Cole welcomed the loud music and the feeling of the snare drumming in his chest was weirdly soothing. After his eyes adjusted to the dark, Cole glanced on stage. He recognized the hair first, long, brunette curls shaking with every move he made. Eddie fucking Munson. For a moment, Cole thought he was surely dreaming— or hallucinating— but he hadn’t taken anything in weeks. Cole’s eyes were glued to him throughout the whole set. At first to make sure he was real, and then… because he couldn’t look away. There was something addictive about him, and Cole’s stupid high school crush on Eddie “the freak” Munson came flooding back. The music was good— or so he thought, he wasn’t fully paying attention, but Farrah and her friend seemed to enjoy it. Cole spent the whole set figuring out how to get backstage, who he needed to bat his eyelashes at, and he’d solidified a plan. Only then did he notice that Eddie hadn’t gone backstage; in fact, he’d made a beeline to the bar. So Cole did the same, game plan effectively thrown out of the window.
He slid into a seat a few spaces down from the rockstar and eavesdropped for a moment. Cole laughed at the joke, for what it was worth, and caught the bartender’s eye long enough to order an Old Fashioned. Just one drink, just for the liquid courage to actually approach Eddie, who may or may not even know who he was; God knows they hadn’t talked much back in high school. But, who knows, they both had… certain reputations. Maybe the noticing wasn’t one-sided. “Thanks,” he breathed when the bartender returned with his glass. Cole took a large gulp and glanced up at his target. Sliding the glass over as he moved into the seat closes to Eddie, Cole offered a wry grin. “Long way from Hawkins, aren’t you?” he mused, projecting nonchalance. “I’m Cole Montgomery. Hawkins High class of ’85.” It was weird, being this close to a blast from the past. They hadn’t exactly run in the same circles— as if Cole had a social circle at all— but still, it had him lost in thought, remembering high school. His chest felt heavy, all of the sudden, at the thought of how things used to be. Who he used to be. Cole took another long swig of his drink and turned squarely to Eddie. “Good set, but I gotta ask. What the fuck’s the deal with the name?”
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@waldenwritess
Helping Mike was instinctual for Will, and before he'd even finished his sentence, Will was loosening the tie and tugging it off. "Mike," he groaned, taking off his own jacket and tossing it over the chair in the edge of his bedroom. "I dance with Jennifer one time and you--" he motioned to the frozen peas. Will met Mike's eyes-- eye, rather-- and frowned, "Tell me."
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shit. when will was giving him eyes, how was mike supposed to say no? he wasn’t. but maybe he could tell some lie instead? no, there wasn’t enough time to think up a good one. rather than answer the question, he asked one of his own, “well what do you think happened?” then he recoiled a little, frowning, “when did you dance with jennifer?” then without filter he blurted, “dude, i didn’t mean to pull you away from her, i’m sorry.”
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@waldenwritess:
“What, so you gotta take in all these fuckin’ criminals and feed ‘em and shit and get nothin’ for it?! That��s a fuckin’ scam,” Mickey said, brow furrowed in confusion. The way of the world never ceased to fucking amaze him. “It’s still a house, ain’t it? You’d be like… the housewife or whatever,” he smirked. Mickey walked around the perimeter, arms crossed over his chest, and surveyed the apartment. “It’s too fuckin’ quiet, Gallagher, how are you gonna be able to sleep?”
“yeah that’s pretty much the definition of charity, mick.” ian said flatly, then corrected, “it’s apartment, and i’m nobody’s wife.” he gave mickey a little shove, “you’re so fuckin’ annoying.” he wanted to kiss him, but the urge to explore his new apartment took over, “i like the quiet, mickey.” he walked over into the bedroom, trying to imagine how he’d arrange all this space when he remembered, “and before you ask, you can’t have your fuckin family over here.”
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@waldenwritess said!: [from percy to jason] the brave may not live forever, but the cautious do not live at all.
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jason looked at percy for a moment, expression flat before he let out a little laugh, “who taught you that one? annabeth?” he scratched the back of his neck and wondered when percy fancied himself the philosopher. in the middle of a sparring match was a convenient time. jason raised his sword again, continuing to take the offensive as him and percy danced around one another, “you’re just trying to get me to advance, jackson.” jason commented, jumping to the left, then finally striking downward on the hilt of percy’s sword. “what are you trying to say?” he prodded, taking another jab in the percy’s direction.
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@waldenwritess said!: [ hadassah to carl ] you look so… clean.
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carl frowned. he was pretty sure that was a compliment, but he could never really tell with hadassah. he decided to roll with it and casually revealed, “yeah, it’s because i shaved this morning.” he didn’t really shave this morning, and it was something he rarely had to do. but hey! carl figured seeming all manly or whatever would draw her in. he leaned against the doorframe of the house and glanced outside past hads, “anyway, what’s up? you need more flower? beer?” he looked over his shoulder, “you know, we don’t really usually take house calls.”
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[ FROM: will TO: mike ]
" are you going to tell me what happened to you tonight? "
"no." mike grumbled, putting the pack of frozen peas on his eye. he reached down and tried to loosen his tie, but had no such luck. "can you help?" he looked at will and sighed as he shifted so he could help him get it off. mike shook his head and frustratedly threw down the peas, "i'm so glad high school is almost over."
#ch: mike wheeler#with: waldenwritess#askbox#//me assuming they're eighteen in time for senior prom#//they're both aries!!!
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[ FROM: mick TO: ian ]
" you know, you'd make a nice profit if you turned this place into a safehouse. "
ian scoffed, "i don't think you can make money off of safehouses." he put his hands on his hips and turned to face mickey, "a safehouse is like...charity." a first apartment was no small deal, but mickey always had a talent for souring the sentimental moments, "plus, if it's a safehouse, where am i gonna live?" he pointed out, walking over to one of the windows. not a great view, but it was a place that was finally his own. with a grin he turned back to the other, "so? what do you really think?"
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Coming out Thread // Continued
@waldenwritess
Will:
Will leaned into Jonathan's hug like he had so many times before, only this time he felt himself leaning more heavily, gathering the fabric of Jonathan's shirt into his fists and squeezing his eyes closed. A few tears slipped through, wetting Jonathan knew, that much was apparent, but Will still had to say it. He knew once the words left his mouth he could never take them back. He knew he could never take them back either way. With Jonathan's reassurance, Will pulled away and swiped at his face with the back of his hand, weak smile to show Jonathan that he would be okay. Eventually, maybe. Will followed Jonathan to his bed and sat next to him, eyes falling immediately to the carpet under his feet, fingers once again picking at the hem of his too-big shirt that used to be Jonathan’s. As his brother began talking, Will lifted his eyes to Jonathan’s face, automatically shaking his head in protest as Jonathan started apologizing. He opened his mouth to protest— to promise that Jonathan had been a better brother than he ever could’ve wished for, that it wasn’t him Will was afraid of, really, just the fact that saying it out loud made it real— but Will didn’t want to interrupt. He found himself nodding along, agreeing that things do get way more complicated. Will had felt behind when his friends all started dating and all he wanted to do was play DnD, but he wondered now if that was less about not wanting to date and more about who he wanted to date. “I never felt alone,” he ventured, before Jonathan could move on. “I know you will. You do,” he confirmed in as many words as he could manage without bursting completely into tears. Will’s throat burned from holding back his emotion, and he swallowed hard, determined to pay attention to Jonathan’s words.
Studying his hands, Will clasped and unclasped them in his lap. They felt clammy, and he wiped them on his jeans while he desperately tried not to think of Mike Wheeler. It makes you do stupid shit. Will immediately thought of the conversation he’d had with Mike in the van back in California, how Mike somehow managed to frustrate him more than anyone else in the world, but also felt like home. He met Jonathan’s eyes cautiously, then, not sure just how many confessions he was up for in one go. Jonathan’s eyes pierced through Will’s soul, and he felt frozen under his brother’s intense gaze. Everyone deserves to know what that feels like. HIs eyes welled up again, but this time Will didn’t reach up to swipe at them. He let the tears fall, one and two and then faster, until they streamed together. Suddenly, Will felt like a little kid again— like he was five years old, hugging Jonathan’s leg, begging him not to leave and go to school, just this once. Clinging to the safety his brother always brought with him, the certainty that someone loved him not in spite of everything he was, but because of it. As long as he could remember, Jonathan was Will’s safety net— he ordered for Will at restaurants way past that being acceptable, he talked to strangers on the bus on Will’s behalf, he let Will duck behind him in crowds, but Will knew it had to come to an end. Jonathan couldn’t say this for him. Taking a shaky breath, Will met Jonathan’s eyes again and nodded, trying to soak in Jonathan’s words. Jonathan was always recording things, and for a second Will wished he was recording this, so Will could revisit it over and over and be sure of what he said. The world needs to see it, and there’s someone out there who will love you for it. Once again, Jonathan’s words burned Will’s throat. He reached out and took Jonathan’s hand, squeezing hard to redirect the pressure from his eyes to his hands, and took another deep breath. “Jonathan, I’m gay.” It didn’t feel like how he thought it would. Will didn’t feel freer, or lighter— maybe in an existential sense, he felt good to finally tell the truth. He felt the same, only with a sneaking suspicion that he’d have a headache tomorrow from all the crying. “You already knew,” he said, tenderly loosening his grip on Jonathan’s hand, but not letting go yet. “Thank you. For making it easy to say,” he said, after a beat of silence. Will searched Jonathan’s eyes, afraid he hadn’t said enough to assuage any guilt Jonathan was holding onto. “I think it just… took me a while to figure out what my feelings meant. And then, everything else,” he said, grimacing at the thought of all that had happened this year. The last few years. Too much for a lifetime. He was lost in that thought for a while.
“It’s not because of you, or mom,” Will clarified, though his mind was lightyears away. Jonathan’s words— his promise that someone out there will love him— had a haunting effect. Will had never doubted that he was loved, that he would be loved. He’d always known that his family and friends loved him. But romantic love felt like it was off the table. He remembered telling mom that he would never fall in love; it wasn’t so much a goal as it was the submission to what he felt was true. When he finally spoke up again, his voice sounded small, almost fragile: “Do you really think someone else will… that I’ll find someone? Like me?”
Jonathan:
His own eyes started watering, and he gave his brother a nanosecond to work into the confession. The waterworks always started as soon as Will cried ... It's been that way since time immemorial. He paid no mind to the numbing tingle in the tips of his fingers caught in Will’s vice grip, nodding encouragingly. Jonathan, I’m Gay. Hearing confirmation of what he’d always known was a breath of fresh air. He stayed silent in fear of saying anything to interrupt his brother’s emotional breakthrough. Christ, he feared breathing too loud and stopping the big words from spilling into this quiet little safe space in his bedroom. Jonathan had picked up on a few signs (for a lack of better words) over the years – not to mention their conversation in Surfer Boy. His big brother sixth sense expected to hear an I’m Gay disclosure at some point. This was a huge moment for Will – And honestly, it was a very joyous moment in Jonathan’s mind. It’s not because of you or mom. That’s when he finally cut his brother off. “Will, feelings are … intense sometimes – it takes time to figure stuff out and you don’t have to have everything figured out right now, either. You’re growing up, you know? And I’m so proud of you for opening up to me about this – so proud ... that takes a lot of guts.” He maintained his gaze with a more serious glint, expression lit with unequivocal trust. As much as he was an older brother and they’d operated consistently in a realm of honesty over the years… Jonathan was still a young person himself. Giving his brother a glimpse into his own vulnerabilities was uncomfortable, regardless of the age difference. “I think you’re old enough to hear this now but … I never really had anyone to talk to about this kind of stuff – love, relationships and everything that comes with that. There’s mom, you know? but sometimes you just need … someone that isn’t mom …” He swallowed to recenter himself on the point that he was trying to make. “I kinda had to figure it out on my own and … it sucked. You can always talk to me about this stuff – or like boy problems.” He cringed as soon as boy problems left his mouth. Could he have said something dorkier? Probably not. “There’s things that you won’t want to tell me or mom – and that’s okay, but there’s so many people who love you and would break their backs to help you – Hopper, Murray, your friends … Hell, there’s people who even do that for a living … and if – If I don’t have the answers to something, I’ll always help you find them, alright?”
He brushed a hand over his brow. Do you really think someone else will … that I’ll find someone? Jonathan used to ask himself the very same question. Still wonders about it sometimes. A slight chuckle caused mucus to catch in his throat and he promptly coughed it away. Both of his palms moved back to his knees, keeping a sly smile at bay. He really wasn't laughing at Will. The fact that his brother had any doubts about his own merits was amusing but the concern in Will's tone scared the living shit out of him. “You don’t … You don’t have to have to worry about finding someone. Trust me, someone will show up when you least expect it – and when you truly love yourself, inside and out, people are drawn to that ... Soon enough you’ll get grounded for sneaking boys into the house.” He cracked some light into their conversation, but it was also entirely true. Will was still super young. It’s hard to feel desirable when you’re still growing into your own skin. Jonathan knew how that felt … And although it was probably impossible for Will to fathom, there’d probably be many someones … Boys who swell your heart to five times its size. Boys who deflate it. Boys who make promises. Boys who show up late – or sometimes surprisingly on time. Boys who are dumb as hell … Little did Will know that he’d probably meet handfuls of boys before settling on someone who makes his world stop spinning. That’s just life. Deep down Jonathan simply hoped that the right … someone … would be found outside of Hawkins. The world’s a big place and Will Byers deserved to experience everything that it had to offer. Period. That’s what Jonathan wanted for him. “By the way - Just so you know … Mom will find out even if they sneak out of your window.” He nudged his chin towards the single pane window in the corner of his room, picking up the collar of his t-shirt to wipe his nose. These days Nancy used the front door but back at their old place she was jumping out of his bedroom window like an acrobat for most of the summer before they took off to California. “Mom has a sixth sense for that shit so don’t even bother lying.”
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