Will Byers (mlm)

It wasn’t the first time Will tried.

It usually started small—his pinky barely brushing against yours under the lunch table, his hand resting just a little too close to yours when you walked side by side, a light touch on your sleeve when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

And every time, you pulled away.

Sometimes it was subtle, like shifting your hand just a fraction out of reach. Other times, it was more obvious—a flinch, a step away, a look that said 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵.

You never meant to pull away. It just felt like the world was too loud sometimes—too much pressure, too much contact. Things that other people seemed to take for granted felt overwhelming for you. But you never quite knew how to explain it, and sometimes words didn’t seem to make it any clearer.

Will never got mad. Never made a big deal out of it. He just nodded, offered a small smile, and kept talking like nothing had happened.

But the next day, he’d try again.

Like now, as you both walked out of school, backpacks slung over your shoulders, the afternoon sun casting long shadows on the pavement.

He shifted closer, just enough that your arms nearly brushed. Then, slowly, carefully, he let his fingers ghost against yours, barely touching, an unspoken question.

And, like always, you pulled away.

Not harshly. Not in a way that said go away, but in a way that said 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵.

His heart sank, and he quickly retracted his hand, rubbing his palm against his jeans instead. He didn’t say anything—just let out a quiet breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets like it didn’t matter.

Like he hadn’t been hoping, just a little.