Characters are always gonna be 18 or over because that's the legal age of consent. Normally fluff after smut and maybe a few angst chapters but I'm not good at writing those so don't expect a lot lol. Oh yeah and in most of these stories the Byers l...
"I love you El! Okay and I'm sorry that I don't say it often, it's just...Im scared, I'm scared that one day you won't need me anymore, and for some reason I feel like saying that will make that day come sooner. But I love you El!"
Those words echoed in his solitary mind, practically ripping it apart only to be squelched with fire and flames afterwords. He tossed over in his bed sleeplessly, tapping his fingernails against the cool white plaster of his wall, only to turn around again and shove his face into the warm pillow underneath him.
His head was spinning with too many thoughts and he debated on getting up and talking to someone, someone who always calmed him down, always made sure he was safe or at least felt safe, but he knew he couldn't talk to that boy, because his problem was about that boy. If only that boy knew.
He shoved the hot sheets off of his legs and to the very end of his bed, getting up and heading to the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face shortly after. He looked at himself in the mirror, tired and sleep deprived, he wiped his face gently with the wool towel hanging next to the sink and turning on the light in his room when he was done.
There was one thing that calmed him down just as much as his special boy, and that was painting. He squirted out some red and mixed it carefully with a little bit of green to create a light brown color, adding in a bit of yellow to make it the perfect shade. He grabbed the blue paint bottle next and mixed it with a bigger clump of red, stirred it around with his metal paint scraper then dabbed a bit onto his thin tipped paintbrush, carefully tracing the outline of shoulders, then arms, then completing to make a full torso.
He continued painting as hours passed, and by the time he set down his brush the sun was starting to rise. He paid no mind to it though, not the clouds or even watching the stars disappear, all he could look at was the paper.
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Sighing to himself deeply and rubbing his eyes he smacked the paint tray onto the floor and face palmed into his bed, his eyes grew weak and weary and he let his paintings control his dreams, every brush stroke making the false fantasies feel even more real. But yet they were never real, and he knew he would soon wake up to Johnathan bringing him some lunch or informing him that he and argyle were going golfing, but none the less he continued to dream, and forever will dream,
Until today.
.
.
.
"Will! Will? Are you ready yet??" He got a rude awakening an hour or so after he laid down, his eyes opened reluctantly and were soon scrunched up as a light shined in his face. "Will! Hurry up school starts in 20 minutes!!!" Jonathan shook him violently and his eyes shot open, he scrambled to get up and remembered it was a Friday.
Shit.
He pushed his plaid pajama pants down and frantically buttoned his cargo pants. Buttoning up another beige-ish colored shirt and tucked it in. He slipped a belt on and ran to brush his teeth, breakfast could wait until tomorrow. He snatched his bag up around his shoulder and yanked the van door open, frantically buckling the seatbelt as Argyle took a hard turn out of the driveway, Joyce's yelling slowly getting farther away as he double checked his bag to make sure he grabbed the history essay.
