𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞; byler

Chapter 3- Will

----FOUR YEARS LATER----

WILL WOKE UP with a gasp, his heart beating fast. His forehead was cold with sweat.

He had that dream again.

You would think that after about a few months of the same dream over and over again almost every night, he'd be used to it. But every night was as bad as the first one. He didn't think he could ever get used to it, and he didn't think he could stand many more nights like this.

His dream always started in the forest behind their house.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

His father, Lonnie, stood a small distance from him holding a basket full of small white balls.

Behind his father stood his brother, Jonathan. He wasn't twenty in the dream, he was a small boy- maybe thirteen or fourteen.

His arms were crossed tightly on his chest, his upper lip biting the lower one tightly. His hair was a mess on his forehead, almost covering his eyes that stared at his father with anger.

Lonnie didn't seem to even notice his eldest son. He had a cheerful twinkle in his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. He picked one of the white baseballs in his basket and threw it at Will, who instinctively crouched down. The ball blew past him.

"Come in, kid! use your bat!" Lonnie yelled at him. Will looked down, and sure enough he was holding a shiny metal bat.

So they were playing baseball.

Will hated baseball, but it was so unusual to see his father smiling this way, like he was actually happy to spend time with him. Like he was actually happy.

So Will shifted into the position his dad had showed him, ready to hit the ball and make his father proud. Lonnie's hand closed around another ball, and he flung it at Will.

Will raised his bat- and missed. The ball flew past him again.

"Don't be such a pussy! hit the damn ball!" His father yelled again, but the cheery light in his eyes wasn't completely gone yet- This was just how he talked.

Will got ready again. He had to do it.

"Dad, it's his birthday! Let him draw if he wants to!" Jonathan called at his dad, but Lonnie waved him off.

"He's a nine year old kid, I got him this expensive fucking bat- he should play outside, not sit inside like a god-damn woman!" Lonnie called again, and this time Will could see the happiness leave his face. When he turned back to Will, his eyes were mean and threatening.

"Hit the ball."

Will nodded quickly, staring at his father's hand intently.

This time, when the ball came flying in his direction, he managed to hit the ball- but instead of flying back the other direction, it went through the metal bat like it wasn't there at all.

The father yelled in exasperation. He threw the ball again, and Will hit it again, and it went through the bat again.

Will felt panic rising, his eyes started stinging, but he held it in. Why couldn't he hit the ball?

His father threw a ball again, and again, and every time Will's bat seemed to disappear into thin air the moment it touched the ball. Finally, Will couldn't help it anymore. The fear and despair spilled out of him in the form of a single tear, rolling down his cheek.

He may as well have cried a river.

"You're not crying!" Lonnie exclaimed, throwing the almost-empty basket of balls on the ground.

"N-no, sir!" Will tried, but his voice was shaking with the rest of his body.

"Dad!" Jonathan tried, But Lonnie was already running towards Will...

"My son's a fucking fag!" he roared as his hand rose in the air, Will flinched back in fear... and suddenly he was in Mike's room, back at his normal age of sixteen.

He was sitting on Mike's bed, looking at Mike who was standing by the door, his raven hair curly and his eyes chocolate and beautiful. Even just looking at him made Will feel safer, calmer... Mike was his safe place.

until he noticed Mike's eyes were looking at him weirdly.

Staring at him with... disgust, hate.

Just like his father's had just a few moments ago.

"You have to go now," Mike said as he opened the door. He looked so cold, distant-

"Wha- Mike, why?" Will called desperately. He rose from the bed and came to stand by his boyfriend. He got up on the tips of his toes to kiss Mike, but he pushed him away. Will stumbled back, sad and confused

"What the fuck are you doing?" Mike yelled at him and his face was twisted in anger, hate-

That's when Will would always wake up.

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

Now he lay in bed, struggling to even his breath.

Rejection washed over him in a wave so strong he almost started crying. His whole body was shaking.

He got up, tip-toeing to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help.

It's just a dream, he told himself, Dad's gone. He's gone forever. Mike doesn't hate you, you know Mike doesn't hate you.

He opened the faucet and let the cold water run for a bit, splashing them all over his face before filling a tall glass to the brim. He drank it all in three sips, finally calming down a little.

Mike didn't hate him. He had just seen him yesterday- yesterday, when they went to the movies with Max and Lucas. Mike had held his hand under the seats when he was sure Max and Lucas couldn't see... They had kissed by Mirkwood road after finally being rid of their friends.

He walked back to his room, lying in bed again.

It was 4:15 on Saturday, at least that's what the alarm clock on his bedside table told him. That wasn't too bad. It meant that in just a few hours he'd be back in Mike's room, back in his arms.

It was just a dream.

But even when he finally drifted back to sleep after almost an hour, some tugging feeling in the bottom of his stomach persisted.

A feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong.

[AUTHOR SAYS]
Sorry this part is so weird and slow, but next part Things are really starting to happen, Promise! I needed these parts to kind of set up and they were kinda annoying to write so I'm really looking forward to getting the actual plot line going!