quietplacelogs | you can color my world with sunshine every day

Entry tags:

the dark tower: jake chambers

you can color my world with sunshine every day

Featuring: Will Byers

deadboywalking and you~
What's happening: General March catch-all business
Day/s: Throughout March (3/02-3/31)
Content warning: panic attacks, ptsd, mentions of self-harm, possession, death, suicidal ideation (all in prompt 3)

i. casa de wheeler-byer

[So Will and Mike have a house now, which is an excellent thing for two eighth-graders to have. It's small, just enough for the two of them, and Will is obsessed with it. He's barely left it since the first day it appeared, busy painting every single wall with the variety of art supplies he got from Eddie.

One wall is a forest, one is a lake, another is a field with the sun shining and the sky a brilliant blue (and a rainbow ofc), and another is a literal castle. Will's working on this last one now, in the living room, sitting cross-legged so he can work on the details of every single stone in the outer wall, the links in the chain of the drawbridge, the sprigs of bright green grass along the moat. He's got paint all over him, in his hair, smudged on his face, on his clothes.

He hasn't been this happy in weeks. Since before coming to Reims. Since before the Upside-Down. He's in a focused, intent trance, but he's calm and happy enough that any visitors would be welcomed.]

ii. do you take commissions?

[Now that Will has his art supplies back, he's on a roll. He's already helped Kara and Faith redecorate, as well as made a sign for Majima, so why not offer his services to more people who might need it?

Hence:] un: willthewise - if anyone needs anything drawn or painted or any signs or anything done, let me or mike know. it's really grey and sad here, so i wanna help it be a little more colorful, if i can. mike's usually at fight club, and i'm at castle wheeler-byers. it's got a sign, you can't miss it.

i'll also be doing illustrations for mike's book of monsters thing, so if you gave him anything for that and want to make sure i did it right, come by.

iii. because a vision softly creeping left it's seeds while i was sleeping; open to close CR

[Most days are good ones. Will has settled in to a routine here in Reims -- go to Fight Club with Mike, visit his friends, draw or paint or sketch late into the night. Try and stay out of trouble -- nothing stupid or risky, stay away from the monsters. Help out where-ever he can. It's not perfect, it's not home, but Will's sort of happy here.

On the good days.

But then there are the bad ones. Sometimes it's a nightmare, sometimes it's a smell or a sight or a barely-audible sound. Sometimes Will just wakes up and he knows already it's going to be one of the bad days. He'll try to go through his routine like normal, try to pretend that everything's okay, but then there'll be that one tiny thing that flips the switch in his brain and --

-- and he's back, he's riding home from mike's and something is chasing him, he's in the shed with the rifle, no he's in the shed tied to a chair, no he's not in the shed he's in castle byers and there's something growingfesteringliving in his lungs and his throat and his stomach, no he's in the field behind school and it's in his ears in his eyes in his mouth and arms and legs and mind and bones and it's walking for him talking for him killing for him, he's in the upside-down and he's so so cold, he's in the lab and there are needles in his arms, he's in the lab and bob is dying bleeding screaming and he's happy he's so happy it's exactly as he planned, he's in the shed and tapping out C L O S E G A T E C L O S E G A T E K I L L I T K I L L M E K I L L M E --

and in reality Will is sitting hunched over on the front steps of his house in Reims, doubled almost in half, absolutely still, absolutely silent, because he has his wrist shoved into his mouth and he's biting down as hard as he can to keep from screaming.

Because he has to be quiet.]

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(It's a little weird feeling- Eddie knows. When he first got the plugs, he had no idea what he was supposed to do with them. He still preferred headphones, but he wasn't about to complain about being able to listen to music. He had missed it a lot too.

And apparently so had Will.

Will who had seconds ago been a shaking, horrified mess was now snapping to attention like Eddie had dropped a bunch of ice cubes down the back of his shirt. He supposed he might as well of with how quiet this entire world was.

He eases back into a squat, looking up at Will, at first making sure he hadn't scared him or anything with the music. But no. No that wasn't what was happening at all. It doesn't take Eddie long at all to realize he had done the right thing. His mouth curves into a smile and after a second, he winks at Will. Yup.

He had music.

Eddie moves himself around to sit next to Will instead of in front of him. He moves an arm in front of Will to gently remove the ear bud opposite of him so that he could bring it around and put it into his own ear, letting them share the piece. He sets the ipod between them and shows Will how to scroll through it before he hands it over completely to Will. No doubt Will would be able to find music he himself was familiar with. Eddie had, and he was from way before Will's time.)

[Will's still shivery and teary-eyed from the panic attack, so forgive him if he leans a little heavily against your side, Eddie. For a moment he just watches the songs scroll by, brow furrowed, trying to figure out how so many songs can be in one little thing. What an excellent rectangle.

He scrolls a bit slower, frowning at the funny click-click-click noise the ipod makes. Part of him wants to look for The Clash, but he feels like even seeing the title would be too painful right then.

So he settles for something else, something that makes him feel braver, even like this.]

(Eddie doesn't mind at all. As a matter of fact, he relates so much to Will going through this sort of thing that he knows what he would want and so he gives it to Will: he puts his arm low around Will's back and pulls him close, holding him against his side. He was always starved for affection after sobbing like a baby, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to offer that to Will.

He has listened to some of David Bowie's stuff but not all of it and certainly not this. It doesn't take him too long to decide he likes it though and he turns to look down at Will, smiling from ear to ear. He bows his head down and nudges their foreheads together, raising his brows as he leans back. It doesn't really mean anything except maybe better? or doing okay?

Shortly after that, Eddie gently takes the hand of the wrist that Will had been biting. He pulls it over onto his lap and gently rubs his thumb over where Will's teeth had been digging in. Eddie frowns, skimming his thumb along the edge. He'll take care of that later. He'd take care of all of Will later. For now, he wanted to focus on making sure he was okay emotionally at least.)

[Good old Bowie. Always makes Will feel more relaxed and at ease. He wrinkles his nose when Eddie leans in, nudging back slightly. He feels...scraped-out. Empty and tired. But he nods obligingly. Much better.

Then Eddie looks down at his wrist and Will feels the old hot flush of embarrassment, trying to pull his hand away. There are layers of bruises, some yellowed and mostly healed, others newer. None of them have broken the skin, at least.]

(Eddie lets Will pull his hand away for now. He rests his chin into his hand, staring at Will from the side. Eddie wasn't usually the one offering comfort, but it hardly meant he was incapable of it. In some weird way, it made him feel steadier. He was always scared about having to be there for people, but when push came to shove...

He gets to his feet and gestures to Will to stand up too. He points over to where his house could be seen from Will's, and makes a point of raising his brows. Come home with me?

He wanted to take care of that wrist. And the rest of Will.)

[Will looks up at Eddie, eyes big and teary and lost. He softly snuffles, then slowly stands, his knees a little wobbly from sitting hunched over so long. He'll go where-ever you want him to, Eddie.

Provided he can reach out to grab onto your hand with both of his. For safety, of course.]

(The look strikes Eddie straight to the chest and he feels a fierceness rise up. Whatever caused Will to look like that deserved to be taken down a couple thousand notches.

Of course. Safety.

Eddie clutches his hand back, giving a confident squeeze, before pulling him along. He stays close to Will so they could still listen to the music. It doesn't take long to arrive at his house. He leads Will to his bedroom, the master bedroom, and shuts the door behind him and crams the bottom of it with the stuff that plugged up the room to make it completely soundproof. He delicately removes his hand from Will's and removes their earbuds entirely. He unplugs the headphones from the ipod and connects it to the speaker system sitting on his bed. Soft music plays out into the quiet of the room and makes it a hell of a lot more comfortable. Even if the wall just behind his bed was a little unsettling to look at.

Eddie reaches a hand out and gently fusses with Will's hair before giving him a tiny nod.)

Here. Listen to the music. I'm gonna go get some stuff from the bathroom to help your wrist, okay? You can sit on my bed.

[As soon as Eddie lets go of his hand, Will just sort of stands there, looking lost and disoriented. He watches the process of the funny little box thing getting connected to a speaker (he can recognize those at least), and reaches up to rub at his ears once the music starts playing. It feels...weird. To not have silence.

The touch on his head makes him smile a little, even if it's a flat, emotionless version of a smile. He obligingly sits on the bed, shifting so he can look up at the wall. It doesn't mean anything to him, but that doesn't keep him from staring intently.]

(Eddie comes back out relatively soon and is sitting cross-legged next to Will on the bed. He gingerly picks up his wrist and sets it in his lap. He's brought out a handful of things. The first thing is an antibacterial cream that he gently rubs over Will's wrist.)

Does it hurt?

[Will is a very good patient -- he doesn't pull away or wince or make any distressed sounds. He just sort of watches Eddie work, wiggling his fingers periodically.]

...no. Not really. Feels kinda numb.

Okay.

(That was better than it hurting. Once he's finished with cleaning Will, he gets out one of the large band aids and gently places it directly and neatly over the bite mark.)

You need to be careful. There's a lot of bacteria in the mouth. If you broke the skin, you could get an infection.

Sorry.

[It's very faint, and Will ducks his head, curling in on himself like a miserable little sea turtle.]

I didn't...realize I was doing it.

Hey...

(Eddie's voice goes real soft. The kind of soft he uses for his friends when they started going down dark places. He reaches his hand out and gently fixes Will's hair before resting his palm against the curve of Will's cheek. He uses his hold to lift Will's head back up because no, no hiding away little turtle.)

You were scared. I'm not angry. I was just worried. You don't have to apologize for being afraid and doing something while you were afraid to try and help. Okay? No sorries.

[Will thinks about resisting for a moment, but he finally lets Eddie lift his head up, his eyes embarrassingly bright, his lower lip quivering a little. God, he's cried so much here, it's terrible.]

I'm s-- [He cuts himself off, with a soft huff of sound, a laugh in intent.] I didn't mean to make you worried. I didn't mean to make anyone worried.

(Eddie smiles at the near apology and shakes his head. He leans over and gives Will a solid kiss on the temple. He just does it because it felt right to right then. It's something he's done to Bill, to Richie, even to Bevvie and Max. Will doesn't have to cry anymore. He's not alone now.)

I'm always worried. It's nice to just have a valid reason to be worried for once. Did you wanna talk about it?

[Eddieeeeee, jeez. Will blushes to the tips of his ears, but at least he's smiling now instead of staring into space blankly, right?]

It's just...stuff happened and sometimes it gets really big in my head and I can't stop thinking about it. Most of the time I'm okay. It's stuff that happened back home, not here.

(Wiiiiiiiill! Eddie does his absolute best to not feel a teensy bit self-satisfied at that blush, and schools his face to remain perfectly still.

Yeah, that's definitely an improvement. But when Will describes what it can be like, Eddie's expression goes soft and serious at the same time.)

I know exactly what that's like. It's so scary. It's like some thoughts refuse to go until you've heard them out properly.

(He looks again at the bandaid he'd placed on Will and gingerly touches it.)

I'd offer you advice but I honestly don't even know how to stop that stuff for myself. I guess I try and think of my friends.

Does....(He starts up only to trail off. Was it right of him to ask? They were friends, right?)

Does it have to do with your monster?

[Will tugs his knees up towards his chest, hugging them there tightly and breathing in, then out. Slow. Measured. The way he'd been told would help with the rising bubble of anxiety in his chest. It does, a little bit.]

Yeah. The stuff it did. The stuff I did with it inside me. That's what I remember the most. Feeling and seeing and -- tasting what it did. How happy it was to be hurting people.

It makes me...feel like a monster too. [He manages a faint smile, attempting reassurance:] You can tell where your monster ends and you begin, yeah? You're not all tangled up in it.

(Eddie watches Will with a newfound intensity. IT had functioned differently. It could fuck with your head too in certain ways. Would remind you exactly what there was to be so afraid of in this big, endless world. But Eddie hadn't synced up with it quite like that.

He scoots across the space between them until his legs are scrunched up against Will's side. It gets him thinking. And he realizes this is one of those Big Moments. He can't fuck it up, no matter how bad his anxiety was, and he takes his time thinking.)

No...I'm not...(This is something he's never confessed before, so it takes him sometime.

He rests a hand on Will's arm and pulls him apart, pulls his arm away so that he could hold his hand. It was instinctual for Eddie. From how he's spent time with Bill over these kind of things.)

I'm tangled up in myself though. And my mom. A lot of people say they always hear their parents or their own voices in their head but...Sometimes I think she's standing right behind me. It's a voice like that. It's real. And other times, I start thinking real- real bad. Like I'll lay in bed and be convinced for an hour that I'm a cancer patient and I can feel all my organs shutting down and that I can feel my whole body growing thin til nothings left.

(He wants to...to stress that this isn't just a childish imagination. It isn't.)

It's so bad that sometimes I swear I can smell the medicine even.

(He bites at the inside of his cheek.)

So maybe it isn't the same thing as being tangled in a monster. But it's being tangled up in something you can't get away from...But I think the thing is that there's a tangle at all.

(He pulls at Will's hand, leaning forward to look up at his face.)

If it was just smooth sailing, then yeah, you'd be a monster. But I think that tangle being there means this isn't something right inside of you- something that shouldn't be there. It's like...It's like a virus, Will. When you're sick and puking up, do you look back later and think it was you that was making you puke or do you think it's the virus that made you puke?

Maybe the monster did awful things while it was in you- but that's the thing. It was in you- not the other way around. That's like blaming a car for a person crashing it into a tree. Maybe the car coulda had better tires or a better engine or better brakes- but it was still the person who decided to take it for a spin. Your tangle is the most human part about you. And it's okay if you can't...see where you end and the monster begins. Picture it like colors. Maybe you have two really similar reds and if they're together, you'd have to squint real hard to see the difference. But back up, and suddenly it's really obvious what is or isn't different.

Edited 2018-03-20 02:33 (UTC)

[Will almost automatically laces his fingers with Eddie's, listening quietly, face scrunched up in concentration. It's harder when Eddie makes the car comparison, but of course as soon as he brings up color theory, Will understands better.

After a pause, he squeezes Eddie's hand, tightly.] As long as I'm not the only one who's tangled up, I suppose. I guess I don't want to be different. Wrong.

(It's a nice feeling right off the bat and one he associates with long, safe spent summers in the Barrens. It reminds him of the rushing water they had built a dam in, and more than anything, it reminded him of the Losers. He strokes a thumb slowly over the side of Will's hand, squeezing tightly.

A good friend. Will was a good friend.) You're not the only one who's tangled up.

(His mouth quirks to the side and he contemplates that.)

Maybe you are different- but I think different is really nice. Everyone is different from each other. I think that's the point of being a person. But different isn't bad. And you're definitely not wrong.

[For a moment Will just looks down, watches the slow slide of Eddie's thumb over the back of his hand. Eddie's hands aren't soft -- they're warm, they're roughened, they're like Mike's. They're familiar, in an unfamiliar way. He likes them.]

...I guess...I guess I sometimes feel like the stuff that was supposed to get put into my head...got put in wrong. Or backwards or mixed up. Like the pieces are in the wrong place.

I feel like that too.

(In a lot of ways. Not just one or two. He's earnest in his comparison. He's not trying to override the sentiment, he just wants Will to know that he's really not alone.)

I guess God assembles some people and messes up when reading the directions. (Eddie gives a tiny shrug like what can you do?)

Maybe the pieces are in all the wrong places, but I think all that matters is you. Maybe if you didn't feel bad about stuff, I'd be a lot more worried about you, but you're a good person. Good people can do bad things or make bad choices- and you didn't really even have a choice. So I don't think it's fair to be so hard on yourself.

[Will shrugs too, raising and lifting a shoulder in a gentle, tired motion.]

That's what my mom says. So you're probably right. [Congrats, Eddie, you got the Joyce comparison.]

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you can color my world with sunshine every day

this is how we die

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how dare you reference parks & rec i love you

i know what u like bb~

u really do

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