Chapter Text
Will’s not sure what his smoking habit had started from. Well yeah, sure, maybe there was a genetic component to it, with the way Lonnie had slung them back when Will was younger.
He’d hated the smell back then. It was the kind of smell that sucked all the air out of your lungs and made you want to cough, though he’d quickly learnt better than to do that in front of Lonnie.
The rancid scent almost comforted him now; something to ground him in the present as he pulled it into his lungs, breathing out the curls of smoke into the bitterly cold morning air. The heat of the cigarette between his fingers, though small and centered in the tiny thing, warmed him up some on the outside.
He watched a car pull out of the Hawkins High parking lot, the mark on the back bumper telling a story of a run in with a lamppost, or a fence, or something of that sort. A visible reminder of something in the past. At least they could take the car to have the dent fixed, restored back to how it was supposed to be. Will absentmindedly ran a finger over the scar tissue on his side. He wasn't sure he'd get that chance.
The heat in his pointer and middle finger flared and Will glanced down to see the embers encroaching on his skin, threatening to burn. Fire didn’t hurt like it used to, though, and he let it get a little close to his fingertips to remind himself of the fact before letting the cigarette fall to the asphalt, grinding it with his shoe until it was just ash.
The air was sharp on his fingers, biting and fresh. Will shoved them into his pockets, wiggling a little in some attempt to move blood into them. He wasn't listening in the class when they discussed circulatory systems but he thinks it was something like it. It seemed to work regardless and the chill retreated.
Inside the school was warmer, he was sure, but nothing could beat the quiet at this time of day. Classes were well underway, the last of the late students had already filtered into the front doors, sure to be scolded by their respective teachers.
Will had study hall first period and, though final exams were beginning to loom, he wasn’t feeling like hitting the books. It was nicer to have a moment of quiet like this instead. He loved his mom, he really did, but since everything had gone down she’d been magnetised to his side all of the time he was home, and the party was the same while at school.
Study hall was the only class he didn't have with any of his friends and therefore the perfect time to sneak out for his secret smoke breaks. It wasn't like Mrs Peloski cared.
Will was sure she was sitting at her chair leaned back at the angle that threatened to send her careening back into the linoleum floor, reading yet another one of those cheesy romance books she always seemed to find more of. She was usually pretty relaxed anyway and he’s sure he'd get away with a light scolding at most if he ended up getting caught.
The side door further down clicked open lightly. Will mentally cursed, sliding his shoe over to cover the snuffed out cigarette on the floor, just as a precaution. He’d seen Louisa Hales in his homeroom get a solid telling off for smoking that one time by one of the Phys Ed teachers.
The teacher hadn’t seemed to care that they weren't even on school property at the time, so Will couldn't imagine the time of volume his voice would have gotten to if she’d been on school grounds. He wasn't really inclined to find out.
It wasn't a teacher that appeared, though. A figure in a letterman jacket slipped out, the jacket mirroring the one Lucas owned, immediately identifying him as a member of the basketball team.
None of the players had bothered any of the party since they’d killed Vecna, lifting the “curse over Hawkins”. With the disappearances and mysterious events cutting off sharply, the suspicion laying over the party and the rest of the hellfire club had backed off, and things had gotten as close to civil as they could.
The boy closed the door sharply behind him and moved about ten feet in the opposite direction to Will before stopping. He leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, tilting his head up until it hit the bricks. He ran his hands through his dark hair and breathed out a sigh in a way that made Will realise he had no idea he was there.
To be fair, the way Will was sitting, against the wall beside the thick bushes the school gardener seemed to hack away at with his eyes shut, he could understand how he blended into the background. He was sure the dark green of his jacket and brown pants probably wasn't helping his case either.
The boy raised his hands to comb through his hair again and his jacket tipped outwards, angling the cursive lettering reading Chance on the jacket towards Will. Chance was one of the players he knew less of. He’d never been at the front of the group whenever the party and the basketballers had collided, seemingly preferring to lurk towards the back, all dark eyebrows and charged looks.
With his head tipped to the sky, eyebrows slack and face relaxed, Will couldn't deny he could see the reason they always had groups of girls lingering around them. Will didn't need to be queer to see that he was handsome, in the most intrinsic sort of the word.
Chance dug a hand into the pocket of his jacket, pulling out a box of Marlboro Reds, flicking open the top and pulling one out of the half empty pack. Will let his eyes trace over him.
His letterman jacket clearly had gone through a few more years of wear than Lucas’s had, small marks and general wear and tear echoing across its fabric.
Lucas had only been in the basketball team for a couple of years, but Will vaguely remembers seeing Chance among the original team years ago, younger and less sure of himself.
Chance dug into his other jacket pocket, before repeating the action into both of his pants pockets. Hands still coming out empty, he made a small disgruntled noise under his breath.
Will watched him spin the cigarette around his fingers a few times before moving to put it back in the pack.
“Need a light?”
Chance’s entire body jolted as his head whipped around in Will’s direction. A hand clapped to his chest and he let out a noise of something along the lines of relief.
“Jesus man,” Chance breathed out, “Trying to put me in an early grave?”
Will laughed gently, holding out his lighter towards Chance, flicking his wrist to mime throwing it. Chance held out a hand and caught it cleanly as Will chucked it, almost too cleanly considering the horrible arc of the throw.
Will was reminded why he wasn't on any sports teams. Lonnie had tried to get him into football once upon a time, but quickly gave up after six year old Will couldn't catch a ball no matter how gently and closely it was thrown at him. He's sure there’d been a slur or two thrown his way too but that it wasn't like that was out of character for Lonnie, so none stuck in his memory too firmly.
Lonnie would've loved a son like Chance, Will thinks solemnly. A son like anyone on that team actually, a son that he could relate to. A son who loves sports and cars and girls.
Chance clicked open the lighter, cupping the flame as he lit the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed as he drew in the smoke, letting it linger for a second before exhaling. The smoke curled out from his lips as he let out a content sigh.
His head tipped back toward Will and he cocked an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the marlboro box he was holding and back, an offer.
Will shook his head, lifting his own box, the logo of a camel catching in the sunlight filtering over the edge of the roof above them.
Chance’s eyebrows both lifted, “Oh, so you’re a Camels kinda guy. Makes sense.”
Will made a face at him, trying to discern if he was joking. Chance held his expression firm for a few moments, before the corners of his mouth curled up into a grin. Will let his shoulders untense.
They relaxed into a comfortable silence, just the slight sound of Chance inhaling and exhaling breaking the peaceful morning quiet.
Birds chirped in the trees somewhere across the parking lot, and every once in a while Will could catch the shape of them darting between branches, playing a game only they knew.
It probably should've been at least somewhat awkward; the tense history between their two groups flashing in giant neon letters. But it wasn’t. Will wondered if it was maybe because he and Chance had never been head-to-head, both of them hiding in the back and letting the others scream, and yell, and fight, or whatever it was that day.
But whatever it was, it was nice. He could pretend for a moment that he was just a normal student, skipping class to smoke. And for a moment that's all it was.
The bell rang out, a horrible, shrill sound that shot straight into his brain.
Mr Givens in his second period history class wasn't nearly as reserved as his study hall teacher, so he dragged himself to his feet.
Chance mirrored him, snuffing out his half smoked cigarette on the ground with his shoe as he got up, stretching his arms above his head and cracking his neck to the side. Will moved to the door and opened it begrudgingly, the noise of the halls escalating as students filtered out from their classes.
He slipped inside, turning slightly to see Chance collecting his books from the ground, humming something too quietly for Will to recognise. He let the door fall close behind him, moving into the crowd towards his class.
Chance didn't immediately follow him into the hallway and Will knew why. Regardless of the tension fizzling out, they still had their respective images.
He turned into his class and slid into his desk, books landing on the surface with a dull thud. Mike and Lucas appeared through the doorway shortly after, joining him in the desks to his left.
Mike leaned over to ask him a question about the campaign session they'd played the night before and he easily fell into the conversation with them. If either of them could smell the smoke clinging to his collar, they didn't comment.