boys like boys

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

Alina Fairgrieves-Byers sat cross-legged on the top bunk of the room she shared with William Byers, holding a stuffed rabbit out in front of her. It was a small thing, orange as a ripe sunset, with glassy black eyes and a summer sky blue ribbon tied around its neck, and it may as well have had her name stamped on it, too, for how possessive she was over it. It had two floppy ears and a sewn-on smile and was named Han, because she couldn't resist naming everything after Star Wars, and it smelled like Lucas Sinclair.

He'd got it from the claw machine. Twenty-five cents went in, and the silver claw had dug through a pile of stuffed watermelons and walruses and pulled it out, grabbing it by its neck and sending it down the chute. With a flourish, Lucas Sinclair had lifted it up, and placed it in her hands. "For you," he'd said bashfully, in a voice that was so not Lucas that it made Alina smile.

Maybe it wasn't a very expensive gift, but Han wasn't the only gift Lucas Sinclair had given her today. He'd also given her two others, which weren't material things, weren't objects that could be locked in a box, weren't things you could throw away when you were done with them. Lucas instead gave her a memory, a single golden memory, and a cinnamon pretzel kiss.

It was their first date. Well, first real date. Like, this one had been planned out, and confirmed to be a date. Sure, they'd had other moments together—they'd gone to the movies, just the two of them, a bunch of times, had a picnic at the quarry and went stargazing—but this was the first time Lucas Sinclair had gone up to his girlfriend and really spoke the words: "Do you want to go out with me?"

Except it hadn't come out so fluidly. Lucas normally thought of himself as a pretty smooth guy, a lady's man, as he'd been called in the past (by his parents, but still). But when he was around Alina, his tongue just slipped, and all of a sudden he was spouting gibberish. Like when he was trying to ask her to dance at the Snow Ball.

He'd actually said: "Hey, Al... if you're not busy tomorrow, do you wanna... maybe... you know... do a thing? You and me? Like, a thing thing?"

It was a miracle Alina had been able to decipher it. But she had, and the plan was made, and they went out on a date. To the arcade. The memory he'd given her was of that experience—playing Dig Dug and Dragon's Lair (which was still an impossible piece of shit, but the graphics were good), eating cinnamon covered pretzels afterwards, and, of course, Han. And then they'd kissed in the parking lot, which was something Alina was beginning to get quite good at.

Yes. Alina Fairgrieves-Byers, previous Hawkins Middle freak, given names like "Midnight Girl" (her skin wasn't even that dark! Racists honestly made no sense) or "loser", the girl who preferred cats to people and wore clothing several sizes too big for her, that Alina Fairgrieves-Byers had a boyfriend. A cute boyfriend, as well. It boggled her mind every time she thought about it, because two years ago, she hadn't even had friends. And now she had a boyfriend.

She'd been broken and pieced back together, died and come back to life. She'd been a toy, a puppet on strings, to an otherworldly force that sought her body and her abilities, but she'd survived, probably because fire ran in her bone and determination had residence in her eyes. Alina Fairgrieves-Byers had survived the Mind Flayer.

It was summer, and she could hold energy in her hands. Could cradle it, like it was a baby, or could shoot it, like it was a bullet, slamming it into targets and decimating them on impact. It was summer, and she had a boyfriend, and for once in her life, she was really, truly, happy.

I just had a date with Lucas Sinclair, she thought now, twisting Han's ribbon around on his throat. He won me a stuffed rabbit. This is really happening.

She didn't know why it was hitting her just now. She'd been a girlfriend since the Snow Ball back in December, but back then it had just been like having a close friend (one that you occasionally kissed and held hands with, and one that made butterflies migrate in your stomach). But now... they were going on dates. It was no wonder El was so happy all the time.

But we're not going to be like El and Mike, Alina reminded herself, adjusting her position on the bunk. We're still gonna hang out with the others. She wasn't going to totally abandon them, because they were her friends. Because it was the summer before freshman year, and she wanted all the time she could get with them.

It had been almost two years since she'd moved in with the Byers (nearly nine months since she'd been adopted), and the room was peppered with Alina and Will style. Photographs Alina had taken lined the walls (she was quite good after all the time under Jonathan's instruction), and drawings Will had done were in between. The dresser was bulging with Alina's Star Wars shirts and Will's flannel, and the night table held comics and sketchbooks alike. It was home.

Then Alina checked her watch, and let out a yelp. Dropping Han onto her bed, she dropped off of her bunk (she still refused to use the ladder) and made her way to the front door, shoving on her sneakers. Will wasn't home—he was at Gabe's house—so there had been nobody to remind her of what was happening tonight, like there usually was. Because tonight the party—minus El and Dustin—was going to Starcourt Mall.

The mall was the new big thing in Hawkins, and it was glorious. Even Alina, who hadn't gone clothes shopping since she was very young, could appreciate it. The ice cream store, Scoops Ahoy, the giant fountain, the movie theatre... it was every teenager's dream. Even if it was highly controversial, as it was causing many locally-owned stores to close down.

"Shit!" she muttered, realizing she'd put her shoes on the wrong feet. Joyce, who was sitting on the couch with Skywalker in her lap, watching TV, let out a laugh at the sight of her daughter's struggle.

"Slow down there, Alina," she told her. "I don't think your friends will mind it if you're a few minutes late."

Alina just sighed, lacing up her sneakers with nimble fingers. "Maybe, maybe not," she said. Once she was finally ready, she turned back to her mom, saluting her and Skywalker. "See you later!"

Joyce saluted back. "Don't stay out too late," she started to remind her, but by then Alina was already out the door. She let out a soft chuckle, stroking Skywalker's fur. "They grow up so fast," she told the white cat, who was purring contently. She still remembered seeing Alina around town every once in a while, with her curly hair bobbing behind her, her hand often laced in her mother's (who was behind bars now, after she'd been charged with child abuse—Gabe and Alina had helped testify). And now... Alina was her daughter, and she was a teenager. She and Will had sprouted up before Joyce could even blink, and Jonathan... well, Jonathan was practically an adult now.

It was so strange.

Three hours earlier, Will Byers had come over, which was something he'd been doing a lot lately. During the times when the party wasn't hanging out—like when Alina and Lucas and El and Mike were together, sucking face, no doubt—Will and Gabe would gravitate towards each other. Gabe would come over to Will's, watch movies, play with Skywalker (and when Alina was actually home, play D&D) or Will would come over to Gabe's, play Connect Four and take a splash in the swimming pool. It was kind of their thing, as, after the whole possession incident with the Mind Flayer, the two had gotten close.

Because, like it or not, Mike and Will were growing apart. The two boys who used to be as close as brothers were now slowly drifting away from each other. Even Gabe could tell, and he hadn't known what it was like before. He could tell it by the way Mike sometimes didn't look like he was fully paying attention, or the way Will's smile sometimes drooped after a conversation with him.

But now, Will had found Gabe. He wasn't a replacement, just a new friend, a weird friend with scars on his legs from where vines had wrapped around them and a tendency to only wear button-down shirts. Except for the small, tiny fact that Gabe didn't want to be Will's friend. He wanted to be something else.

The thought consumed him every night before he fell asleep. He'd look up at his ceiling, twisting around in bed, and imagine the feel of Will's lips on his, the thread of his fingers through Will's hair. He'd think about what would happen if he just took Will's hand in his, if he leaned close to him, resting his head on the boy's shoulder. It was getting to the point of an obsession, and Gabe imagined writing a newspaper headline for that: This just in—Gabriel Burton can't stop thinking about Will Byers's lips!

And it was wrong, but it didn't feel wrong. It felt just like the feelings Lucas had described to him at the quarry when Alina was still unconscious. It felt normal. So why wasn't it? Why was he feeling these feelings towards a boy with a bowl-cut instead of a girl? What was wrong with it? What was wrong with him?

Today Gabe and Will had gone for a swim, which was not a good idea. Seeing Will's scrawny frame shirtless, his hair wet and clinging to his neck, sent the already motormouth Gabe into a rambling frenzy. Seriously, it took him almost five minutes to say one sentence, and once he was done, Will's face was as red as a fire hydrant.

Today they had gone for a swim, but ended up just floating in the water, the sun sparkling off their skin. Today Gabe had closed his eyes and pretended he was weightless as the water lapped against his shoulders, swam around his skin. If he disassociated enough, he could almost pretend he was flying, hovering in the air with a golden boy beside him, one who had survived so much more than Gabe could ever dream about.

The Boy Who Came Back to Life. That had been the only title Gabe had known him as when they'd met for the first time. A name and a black-and-white photograph. But now Will was so much more. He was a survivor, he was a fighter, he'd gone to hell and come back nearly unscathed, he'd been consumed from the inside out and been burned alive and had lived. What happened in those fall months was something nobody in the party really spoke about, but it was an experience that lived in all of them, nestled deep in their memories.

They all were survivors. They were all main characters. But looking at Will made Gabe believe he was the biggest hero of all.

Now, his legs pumped on his bike, gliding over the road. The night was dark and humid, the sky speckled with stars, but for once, as he rode, he wasn't worried. He wasn't thinking about high school (something that kept coming to his mind, over and over, until it was all he thought about besides the whole Will thing) or how Dustin was coming back from camp soon or how the party was growing up, he was just pumping his pedals and breathing, appreciating that he was here. That he was alive.

He wouldn't trade this feeling for anything.

. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧

a/n: the way i'm so soft for both alina and gabe... they're both babies and deserve so much better than what i heap onto them lmfao. but the one good thing that i had happen was throwing linda in prison! i'm not going to mention her much in this book other than the occasional flashback and comparison, because i honestly think we're so over her lmfao. so good riddance, linda!

also, i wanted to split this book evenly into alina and gabe povs, but it kind of turned out more like 60 percent alina and 40 percent gabe, because of certain plot points, whoops. it does end up evening out towards the end, and gabe does get his time to shine, but sheesh, it was kind of frustrating haha.

i hope you enjoyed! i'm so excited to get into the actual plot omggg. y'all are gonna freak out when you see the kind of twists i've added. 

'till next time!