Chapter Text
Will expected to cry. And he does. The drive is long and there isn‘t much to do besides pulling up the snot that clogs his nose. He knows he will spend hours on end doing this. Days. Weeks. Maybe months? The truth is, Will is not going to make an attempt at steadying himself. It feels good. It feels right. Like doing all those people and places he is leaving behind some justice. Jonathan doesn‘t cry. He will in time, but he is an adult and adults know when it‘s time to cry and when it‘s time to steer a car without killing themselves.
Will periodically stares out the window. Then back at the truck right in front of him. Somewhere, way back in the rearmost synapses of his aching brain he thinks this is kinda cool. His mom is driving that thing. His five-foot-three mom is holding a steering wheel with a diameter twice the length of her forearm.
Will‘s tears eat at the awe, though, and every time he remembers what is actually going on, he turns his face away so Jonathan doesn‘t get too distracted.
It is only much later, when every last drop of fluid has been drained from his body, when Will‘s skin seems to shrivel from dehydration, that Jonathan turns the radio off. Will didn‘t even notice David Bowie‘s Heroes playing through the tinny speakers, but now the silence settles heavily.
It is somewhat of a sign that it‘s enough for today. It must have been eight hours. Eight hours with a stretch of asphalt in front of them that never seemed to end. The world is huge, Will thinks. He is further from Hawkins than he has ever been, and it‘s not even the end. How will he ever be able to grasp the sheer size of this world when you can drive eight hours straight and still be in the same country? When the same country stretches across woods, open fields, lakes, rocks, when it changes with every inch of the way but still stays the same and will stay the same for many more miles?
They find a motel just in time for Jonathan to collapse. Will has never driven a car. Is it really that exhausting? His mom‘s speech is slurred when she pays for their rooms.
El stays with their mom for the night, which is expected. Will and Jonathan both had to say goodbye to people they love. But they will see them again. With El and mom, things are different. So, so different. So if they find comfort in each other, that is great.
There‘s no such thing for Jonathan and Will. They each lie in their own, way too narrow beds. Backs turned to each other in the dark, the two brothers don‘t speak a word. They haven‘t spoken much all day. And while Will has no tears left in him, he at least suspects Jonathan is just letting it all out. The noises he makes imply it, though is appears as though he is biting down on something.
Will can‘t sleep. It feels terribly selfish when he switches the light back on. Just so he doesn‘t wake up thinking he is still home, only to find the realization crashing down on him. „D‘you mind?“
„No.“
If Will could find ten minutes of sleep, that would be a success.
The last few hours impose something like excitement. Or maybe curiosity, yes that must be it. The biggest sight the family passes is, obviously, New York City. And they don‘t even stop to take a photo. Straight through without caring for landmarks and skyscrapers, navigating traffic like Will has never seen it before. Jonathan isn‘t used to it. His teeth are clenched. His fist finds the center of the steering wheel time and time again, but alas the horn on his battered LTD is broken.
At least the truck isn‘t easy to lose. It sticks out with its size and their mom‘s Pinto in tow. And should they lose each other, they still got the Supercoms.
The whole family makes it out of the Big Apple unscathed but beyond frustrated. One hour in dense traffic has the same effect on Jonathan as five hours on the Interstate. „If I get into NYU I can imagine selling my car.“
„Then how are you gonna get h-“ Will stalls. Quieter, he continues. „How are you gonna get back to us? It‘s still gonna be a two hour drive.“
„True. Well, it‘s still at least a year away.“
Will is probably supposed to find comfort in that. He loves his brother. And he is sure having Jonathan around for another year is a... good thing. Comfort in a time like this. But right now he just can not care. The buildings around them are smaller already. Fewer. There is more green, more water. Even just Long Island seems huge. And Will would even call it nice if he was just on vacation. If he had the prospect of returning to his friends with a bunch of photographs of the ocean, which out of all of them only Max has ever seen. And maybe with a suntan that would fade after a few weeks in Hawkins‘ fall weather.
Moping about things he can‘t change is dumb, sure, but right now he doesn‘t want to feel good anyways. That would be betrayal. And unfair towards others who have lost so much more. How many more times will El be forced to grieve? And how many times will she think it‘s finally over, only for shit to start again, and again, until none of them can go on anymore?
Will stops himself from drinking too much water, although they are stacked with plastic bottles in the backseat. It‘s because it would only bring back his ability to cry, and that doesn‘t help. There is an ache in his chest, far from dull, and it spreads all over his back and to his sides, making him shift in his seat restlessly.
„You okay?“
„Yeah. I guess. Dunno.“ Will can‘t look at Jonathan.
„You haven‘t had a sip of water all day. Kidney pains? Drink. Or I‘m gonna pull over.“
Begrudgingly, Will complies. A single sip should be enough. Only, he completely loses it and empties two bottles. The hint of a smile plays around Jonathan‘s lips.