Work Text:
Saturday, February 12, 1977
“Jonathan?” asked Will, “How do you know who to marry?”
Jonathan blinked. “Say that again, buddy?”
“How do you know who to marry?”
Jonathan made a face Will didn’t understand. “I dunno. I’ve never been married. Why don’t you ask Mom?”
Will’s face darkened and Jonathan immediately realized he’d said the wrong thing. “Hey – hey, Will, c’mere.” He opened his arms and Will scooted over and leaned into him, breathing harder than normal. “I – I didn’t mean it like that. Why do you wanna know, huh?”
“Because I wanna make sure I marry the right person.” Will’s voice was small. Lonnie had left a few months ago. It hurt – of course it hurt – but Jonathan was old enough to have mixed feelings about it. Money was tight, sure, and the divorce still wasn’t done, but he felt safer in the house than he had in a long time. Now he and Will hung out because they wanted to, not because Jonathan was trying to keep Will out of the way – out of sight, out of mind.
But Will was only five, and he’d definitely taken it a lot harder. Jonathan remembered how he’d hid in his room for a few days and wouldn’t talk to anyone, only coming out to eat. That hadn’t been a fun time. Even now, he and Mom made sure to tread carefully around the topic when Will was around.
Jonathan rubbed Will’s shoulders and turned Will to face him. Shit, he could see the tears forming in his eyes already. He never knew how to act around crying people. He had cried a bit when Dad – Lonnie, he reminded himself – had left, but only in the privacy of his room with the stereo blasting.
“So I’m not an expert…” he started.
“I know,” interrupted Will. Jonathan could see in his eyes that he didn’t care.
“…but I think – I think you want to marry someone who likes the same things as you do.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And you need to care about them, and they need to care about you. Because you’re not always going to agree on everything –” now that was an understatement – “but you have to be able to compromise on things.”
“But that just sounds like a friend!”
Jonathan paused to consider for a moment. “Yeah, you’re right. I think getting married is like having a best friend, but even more. I know you need to love them a lot.”
“But I love you a lot, and we care about each other, and we like the same things, but I’m not gonna marry you!” Will even giggled a little.
“Of course not, silly,” he replied, tousling Will’s hair a little to elicit more giggles and squirming. “You can’t marry your family. But I know you’re supposed to feel something special when you’re around them… I’ve heard people say it’s like butterflies in your stomach – ” Will looked a mix of skeptical and alarmed – “and you want to kiss them. A lot. And have babies with them. And grow old together. It’s like a – like a forever best friend, I guess.”
“But Mommy and Daddy had babies together,” said Will suddenly, serious, gesturing to the two of them.
“Sometimes feelings change,” said Jonathan slowly. “People change. I don’t think Mom and Dad planned on this when they got married. I know they didn’t.”
“So – how do you know?”
“I don’t think you can ever know for sure. Maybe it’s different for everyone. But it’s not something you have to worry about for a long time, okay, buddy?”
Will nodded. “Okay. Can we go play outside now?”
“Yeah, sure! Let’s go find your snowpants and boots.” Jonathan smiled as Will rolled his eyes. He’d recently started an anti-snowpants crusade, but Jonathan wasn’t going to let anyone get hypothermia on his watch.
* * *
Wednesday, February 16, 1977
Will did a lot of observing over the next few days. When Will forgot his snack on Monday, Mike shared half of his Goldfish crackers with him. When Mike tripped over his own feet and fell face-first into a snowbank at recess on Tuesday, Will was the only one to stay with him as he cried and wiped the snow out of his face and hair. They always sat together in class and at snack time and played together at recess. They liked a lot of the same things… playing pretend and comic books and all the silly games Mike made up. And Mike was already his best friend in the whole world…
They were trudging back in from recess one day. Mike was rambling on about something annoying his older sister Nancy had done yesterday.
“Mike?” Will interrupted.
“Huh, yeah? What’s up?”
“Have you ever had butterflies in your stomach?”
Mike screwed up his face. “What? No! Gross! Why? Did you eat one of the caterpillars?” They’d been talking about butterfly life cycles and Mrs. Palmer had brought in real butterfly eggs a few weeks ago so they could see for themselves.
Now it was Will’s turn to look disgusted. “Ew, no! I just meant if you’d ever felt like that. Jonathan told me people feel like that, sometimes.”
“Oh. Hmm.” Mike stopped walking and stood in silence for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. Remember when we first met at the beginning of the year?”
“Yeah.” Will glanced involuntarily over at the old swingset.
“I think I felt like that then. I saw you swinging all by yourself and I just – I knew I wanted to be your friend, but I was scared you’d say no.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “But I didn’t.”
“But you could have,” emphasized Mike. “And when I was going over there, I – I think I felt like that.”
“Okay,” said Will, apparently satisfied.
“Okay. So anyways, then Nancy threatened to tell Mommy…”
* * *
Thursday, February 17, 1977
Will went over to the drawing station when he got to school, like he did most mornings while he waited for Mike to show up. Mommy had to drop him off early so she could get to work on time, but Mrs. Palmer never seemed to mind. He started sketching furiously as his mind went into overdrive. Did he want to grow old with Mike? Obviously. They were gonna be best friends forever. Did he want to have babies with him? Mike would make a great daddy. He’d be so good at telling stories – he already was. Did he want to… kiss him? He wrinkled his nose. Mommy always kissed him goodnight, but why else would people kiss each other? He drew some curls, thinking. Well, whenever he or Jonathan got hurt, Mommy would kiss it better… Would he kiss Mike to make him feel better? Of course. So there were really just two things left to do.
He felt a tap on his shoulder. He sighed. He hated being interrupted when he was drawing. He glanced up to see who it was – no one. He rolled his eyes and turned the other way to find Mike grinning like there was no tomorrow, and he couldn’t help but smile himself.
“Hiya, Will,” said Mike, and gave him a big hug.
“…hi, Mike,” replied Will, his voice muffled in Mike’s chest.
“So watcha drawing, huh? Oh, wow. Will, is that us?”
Will blushed, turning to look at his unfinished drawing. Two stick figures, one clearly Mike and one clearly Will (and “Mike + Will” was doodled at the bottom, in case there was any doubt)… and they were holding hands.
“Y… yeah… is that okay?”
“Okay?” Mike squawked, and Will shrunk back a bit. “Okay? Will, it looks amazing! I’d love to hang it up in my room! I mean… I’m sorry. It’s your drawing. Mommy keeps telling me to share better with people.” He rolled his eyes. “But it’s good, Will. It’s really good. I wish I could draw like that!”
“Do you… do you want it when I’m done?”
“Are you sure, Will? I mean, yeah, of course, but it’s yours, and…”
“I want you to have it, okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, of course.”
Will smiled and hugged Mike again. “Okay, I’ll tell you when I’m done.”
“Can I… can I watch?”
Will thought about it. Usually he didn’t like people watching him draw, but it was a drawing of Mike and for Mike and, y’know, it’s Mike – “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Really?” Mike’s eyes lit up. “Awesome!” He scooted a chair over to be right next to Will. “I’ll be really quiet, I promise.”
“Uh-huh.” Mike Wheeler was many things, but quiet was never one of them. He’d probably forget and start talking again in ten seconds.
…But he didn’t. Every time Will glanced over, Mike was staring at the drawing, engrossed in what Will was doing for once, instead of the other way around. It felt – good.
Hardly any time at all had passed before Mrs. Palmer was calling them over to circle time to start the day. Will tucked the drawing in his cubby. He’d finish it later today.
* * *
“C’mon, Will! Let’s play tag!” Will frowned. Mike was taller than him, and always won. “C’mon, it’s gonna be fun!”
“But Mikeeee, I want to finish my drawing.”
“Oh.” Mike’s face fell, but then he looked thoughtful. “Hey, maybe you could finish your drawing and then we could play tag for the rest of recess?”
Will thought about it. The drawing just needed a few finishing touches, but recess wasn’t that long… and Mike was looking at him with that face that was so hard to say no to. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and Mike flashed him a bright smile.
They went back to the art table, and Mike sat even closer than before, but Will didn’t mind. He wanted this drawing to be perfect for Mike. As he put the final touches on, he looked at Mike and felt a little funny inside. What if Mike doesn’t like it? What if he thinks I’m a bad artist? What if Mike’s just bored and is too polite to say so? It almost felt like – Oh, this is what Jonathan meant.
“Do you – do you like it?” he ventured shyly.
Mike’s eyes softened. “Will, I love it,” and suddenly Mike’s arms were around him again. “Let’s go put it in my cubby and we can go play tag?”
“Yeah, okay.”
* * *
Even though they were only outside for the second half of recess, Will was winded as they walked back inside. Mike only had a few inches on him, but he knew how to use that to his advantage. Will was only able to catch him a few times when he did something stupid, like wipe out on the woodchips or try to run up the slide. For once, Mike wasn’t chattering on, even more winded than Will was, so Will actually had a chance to pop the question.
“Hey Mike, do you wanna get married?”
Mike paused, put on a mock-thinking face, a beat, and then broke out in a broad grin – “Yeah, sure!” – and flung his arms around Will. “Wait. Aren’t you supposed to like get down on one knee or something?”
Will made a face. “I dunno. I’ve never seen anyone get married.”
“Yeah, hang on, wait, let me show you. I don’t have a ring, so you’ll just have to pretend, but –” he got down on one knee, looking up earnestly at a giggling Will – “William Byers, will you marry me?”
Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, Mike. I just asked you!”
“Cool!” And Mike jumped up in another hug. “Wait, can two boys get married?”
Will furrowed his brow. “I – I think so? I asked Jonathan how you know who to marry and he didn’t say anything about it having to be a girl?”
“But like… I have a mommy and daddy, and you –” Will’s face fell – “But you know what I mean. Does anyone have two daddies?”
Will shrugged. “I can ask Jonathan.”
“Boys!” called Mrs. Palmer across the playground, “It’s time to come inside!”
“Cool, and I’ll talk to Mommy and figure out a time for us to get married!” Mike took Will’s hand and swung it as they walked inside.
* * *
“Mommy! Mommy!” As always, Mike was a flailing tangle of limbs as he clambered into the backseat of the Wheeler sedan. “Look at what Will drew me today!”
“That’s very sweet of him,” murmured Karen, glancing back at the clumsily labelled drawing. “You did ask him if you could have it, right?” she asked, her tone sharpening.
“Yesssss, Mommy.”
“Michael Joseph Wheeler, stop rolling your eyes at me!”
Mike sulked for a moment, but then brightened up again. “Oh, guess what! Guess what! I’m gonna get married!”
Karen chuckled lightly. “Is that so? Who’s the lucky girl?”
“Girl? What? No. Ew.” Mike scrunched up his face. “Girls are gross – Sorry, Nance, nothing personal,” he called forwards. “I’m gonna marry Will!”
Karen’s face lost its smile in an instant. “Michael, that’s not funny.”
“Why would it be funny? I said I’m gonna marry Will.”
“Michael, look at me.” She made sure to make eye contact in the rearview mirror. “Boys marry girls and girls marry boys. Boys can’t marry other boys.”
“Well, that’s dumb,” scoffed Mike. “Why not? Will said he asked Jonathan how to know who to marry, and we fit everything on the list!”
“And did Jonathan say that two boys could marry each other?”
“Well, no, but boy or girl wasn’t on the list, so it must not matter.”
“Mike, honey,” Karen softened her voice, “It’s okay. I’m not mad. You didn’t know any better. Did you know that it’s actually illegal for two boys to get married? And you’re much too young anyways.” Mike crossed his arms sullenly. “And don’t tell your father about this. He won’t be as understanding as I am.”
Mike rolled his eyes again. “Okay, Mommy.”
* * *
Will was bouncing with excitement when he got home, but ignored his mom’s inquiries as to why. “I wanna tell Jonathan first!”
“Okay, babe.”
“Mommyyyy, I’m not a baby anymore!”
“Okay, Willy-Billy,” she said, reaching over to ruffle his hair. Will giggled and squirmed away.
But Jonathan was over at someone’s house for a Group Project on the history of Hawkins. Will thought it sounded terribly boring, but Jonathan seemed really excited that he got to borrow an expensive camera from the school and take pictures of old buildings around town. And, more importantly, it meant he wouldn’t be home until dinner.
So, the Byers were just settling down around the kitchen table when – “Jonathan, two boys can get married, right?”
Jonathan looked askance. “No, I don’t – boys have to marry girls, right, Mom?”
Joyce’s eyes had widened momentarily as Will’s entire face fell. “Well,” she interjected quickly, “It’s a little more complicated than that. It is – illegal for two boys to get married –” Will was on the verge of tears – “But! Sometimes two boys end up loving each other very much and living together and do everything married people do. They just call it a, uh, what’s the word –” she tapped her fingers on the table – “Domestic partnership, that’s it. And it’s the same as getting married, just with a boy and a boy – or a girl and a girl.”
The smile had returned to Will’s eyes and Jonathan was nodding thoughtfully. “But Lonnie…”
“Lonnie was wrong,” said Joyce, sending Jonathan a look that brooked no argument.
“But why can’t boys marry boys?” asked Will, indignant.
“Well,” said Joyce, choosing her words carefully, “Some people think it’s wrong for two boys to love each other like that. But they’re wrong,” she added, turning Will’s chin up to look straight into his eyes. “You understand?”
Will nodded as best he could, with his mom’s hand under his chin.
“So who’s the lucky boy, huh?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“Mike!” shouted Will. “So Jonathan told me how you know who to marry –” Joyce shot a quizzical glance at Jonathan, who looked a little uncomfortable but nodded in confirmation – “And Mike and I care about each other and we can compromise, and I wanna kiss him when he gets hurt – and we both have butterflies in our tummies,” he added sagely, nodding.
“Well, that sounds pretty serious,” said Joyce. “Have you asked him yet?”
“Yeah! We were coming in after recess and I asked him and he said yes, but he said I didn’t do it right, so he got down on one knee and asked me and I said yes, and then we held hands when we walked inside and then I kissed him on the cheek before we left and… yeah.”
“Well, I’m really happy for both of you,” said Joyce, “But like I said, not everyone understands it when two boys love each other like you and Mike do, so I wouldn’t tell anyone else right now.”
“So when can we get m- domestic partnershipped? Maybe this weekend?”
Joyce chuckled. “Well, when people get married – or domestic partnershipped –” she added, raising one eyebrow – “They go out and buy their own house or apartment, and to do that, one of you needs to have a job, so it’s gonna be a while, okay, buddy? I know it’s a bummer.”
Will shrugged. “It’s okay. Can I go and draw Mike a picture of us at our own house?”
“Just as soon as you’ve finished your green beans, mister,” smiled Joyce.
“But Mommyyyy.”
“No butts at the table, young man,” said Joyce, wagging her finger.
A few minutes later, Will had bounded off to his room and Jonathan and Joyce were left washing the dishes.
“So you told Will how to get married, huh?” asked Joyce, taking a stack of plates from Jonathan.
“It – it seemed really important to him to know, and he didn’t want to ask you, because, well, anyways. But I swear he didn’t tell me why he was asking or I wouldn’t have – is it really okay that Will’s a faggot?”
“Jonathan! That’s a very bad word, and I never want to hear you use it again!”
“But D – but Lonnie used it.”
Joyce sighed. “Lonnie was wrong. He was wrong about a lot of things, and that’s why he’s not here anymore. Will might be queer – or homosexual – or gay – but he might not be, too. He’s five, for God’s sake. He doesn’t know what it means to get married. Neither of you do. He just – misses his dad. A lot. And this is way of coping with it. How are you doing, Jonathan?”
“I’m fine, Mom,” he muttered, ducking her gaze. “I’m – I’m gonna be fine.”
Joyce wrapped her arms tight around him as he started to cry.
* * *
Friday, February 18, 1977
Will got to school early, like always, and made a beeline for the art table, like always, but couldn’t find a way to sit still. He kept bouncing his legs and looking over his shoulder at the classroom door. Finally – finally! – he saw Mike come in in his big green puffy coat. “Mike!” he yelled, earning a stern eyebrow from Mrs. Palmer, and ran over to him, tackling him in a hug. “Come on, come on,” he urged, pulling on Mike’s arm, “I need to show you!”
Mike ran with him back to the art table. “Look, Mike! It’s us! I drew you and me, and this is our very own house when we get ma–”
“Will – Will,” interrupted Mike. “Wait. I told my mommy yesterday that we were gonna get married and she said that two boys can’t get married.”
Will looked unfazed. “Yeah, my mommy said that too. But she also said that two boys can get… get… domestic partnershipped? And that it’s the same as getting married, but for two boys or two girls. So we can do that, okay?”
“Is that – is that okay? Mommy said it was wrong for two boys to get married and not to tell anyone else.”
“Well, my Mommy said some people think it’s wrong for boys to love boys like that, but they’re wrong.”
“So is my mommy wrong?”
Will shrugged. “Everyone makes mistakes, right? But Mommy also said we can’t get domestic partnershipped yet because we need to get jobs and buy a house first. I guess Jonathan doesn’t know everything about getting married. But while we wait, I drew you and me and our very own house!”
Mike smiled again. “That’s awesome! I love how you drew my hair!”
Will blushed. “Do you wanna keep it?”
“Yeah! I mean… if that’s okay with you?”
“Of course. I drew it for you. I love you, Mike.”
“I love you too, Will.”
They hugged for a few seconds until Mrs. Palmer called them all to circle time.
* * *
“Melvald’s General Store, this is Joyce speaking. How can I help you?”
“Joyce, hello, this is Karen Wheeler!”
“Oh, hi, Karen, how can I help you?”
Joyce had just met Karen a few months ago, when their sons had become best friends on the first day of kindergarten. They’d organized playdates between their two houses. When Lonnie had left, Karen was the first one at her side, bringing wine and homemade lasagnas and an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on.
“So I was driving Mike home from school yesterday, and he told me the funniest thing.” Joyce could feel her jaw clenching of its own accord. “He told me that he and Will were getting married.” She chuckled, and Joyce forced one out as well. “Of course I told him in no uncertain terms that two boys can’t get married, but I just wanted to keep you in the loop, too, so you can have that talk with Will, if you haven’t already.”
“I talked with him last night, actually,” Joyce replied tersely.
“Oh, good, I’m so glad to hear that. I just want to make sure our boys stay happy and safe and know right from wrong.”
“Yes, of course, Karen. Oh, I have a customer heading to the till, we’ll have to catch up more later.”
“Yes, of course, Joyce. So good to talk! I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
“For sure. Good-bye, Karen.”
Joyce hung up the phone and looked around the empty store, seething inwardly. It appeared she and Karen Wheeler had a very different sense of right and wrong.