Interlude Will

The comic workshop was like a scene from a sci-fi movie for Will Byers. The way the Aperture Science Innovations Exhibit combined old and new was both mesmerizing and exciting. A massive screen was the centre of everyone's attention, where Trevor McGee's image was projected with such clarity that it felt as if the artist was in two places at once.

Posters plastered across the room came alive with vibrant characters from Trevor's comic. The main hero, Shirou Emiya, stood out in his unique superhero suit, looking as if he was ready to leap off the poster at any moment.

Watching Trevor draw on the screen was almost like watching a dance. His hands moved smoothly and quickly, with each stroke of his digital brush adding more depth to his creation. The audience watched in silence, captivated by the rhythm and flow of Trevor's work.

To Will, this was like a peek into another dimension, a place where art and cutting-edge technology intertwined in the most fascinating ways. It was a world that felt familiar yet wildly futuristic, and it was the perfect stage for Trevor McGee's magic to unfold.

Will took a seat, his attention shifting between the ongoing lecture and his thoughts. He arrived in the middle of Trevor's speech due to Mike's shenanigans.

"...and so, as an artist, it's crucial to express emotion through your characters. It breathes life into them," Trevor was saying, his icy blue eyes sparkling with passion.

Will wished he hadn't missed the beginning. But Mike had insisted on the shell game diversion, all to sneak away with El. He didn't understand their fixation. Like Max and Lucas, who were constantly planning secret getaways. He found their obsession with each other quite strange. He didn't get it, all this fuss about girls.

Trying to shake off his annoyance, Will focused on Trevor's words, digesting the advice. Express emotion, he repeated in his mind. He would apply that, and make his characters feel more real, just like in Trevor's comics.

The lecture seemed to end all too quickly. "Now," Trevor announced, his tone inviting, "who would like to try drawing something under my supervision? A few pointers never hurt anybody."

Will's hand shot up without hesitation. He was eager for a chance to draw and learn from Trevor. This was a golden opportunity he didn't want to miss.

As Trevor welcomed Will onto the stage, his presence was like a gentle wave of calm confidence. He moved with the precision and ease of an artist deeply in tune with his craft. "Alright, why don't you tell us your name, young man?" Trevor asked, his voice carrying a melodious timbre that resonated with quiet authority.

Meeting Trevor's gaze, Will gulped before introducing himself. "I'm Will Byers," he said, his voice betraying a mix of anxiety and excitement.

"Nice to meet you, Will," Trevor replied. His eyes twinkled with a blend of warmth and mischief, inviting the audience into his world of imagination. As he turned back to the screen, his fingers glided over the drawing tablet, each stroke a whisper of creative fire. The stylus seemed less a tool and more an extension of Trevor himself, weaving stories into existence with the ease of a seasoned storyteller.

The audience watched, entranced. The rhythmic tapping of Trevor's stylus against the screen created a symphony of creativity that echoed in the hushed room. Every movement, every glance, every smile Trevor shared was a lesson in artistry, not just in drawing but in captivating an audience, in turning a blank canvas into a window to new worlds.

Will stood beside Trevor, a rush of inspiration flooding through him, feeling as if he were not just learning about art, but stepping into a realm where every line, every shade, spoke of possibilities yet to be discovered.

With a theatrical flourish, Trevor then introduced their drawing tool for the day, the "Aperture ArtAssist PictoPad." Its design was sleek, far more advanced than anything Will had ever seen before. "It's the future of art," Trevor declared, his voice holding a note of pride as if he himself had a hand in its creation. He took his time explaining its functionalities — the sensitive stylus, the pressure-sensitive drawing area, the built-in color palette, even the ability to undo a stroke or clear the board with a single tap.

The future indeed, Will thought to himself. He was awed by the piece of technology before him, and the idea of using it to create art filled him with a strange sort of anticipation. His fingers itched to hold the stylus, to explore the possibilities of the ArtAssist PictoPad.

As he began to draw, however, his mind started to wander. Standing next to Trevor, he got a better look at the comic artist's features. There was a striking delicateness in Trevor's face, a refined sharpness that gave him a distinct charm. His eyes were what drew Will's attention the most — the way the icy blue irises were rimmed with a thin line of black, the intelligence they held. He wondered how he'd capture them on paper, the unique blend of gentleness and intensity.

Amidst these thoughts, his admiration for Trevor surged. He thought about Trevor's journey, how he'd managed to create and publish a comic despite its controversial elements. The storytelling, the characters, the raw realism — they were all inspiring. Trevor had shown that it was possible to bring a vision to life, and Will felt a deep respect for him.

But as he started to sketch on the PictoPad, something shifted. His hand moved with a mind of its own, lines and shapes forming under the guidance of an invisible force. The urge to draw something particular was powerful, almost overbearing. It was a sensation he had experienced before, but it was much stronger this time.

A sense of disappointment washed over him briefly, for he had wanted to sketch Trevor. But he found himself surrendering to this strong impulse, his hand moving rapidly on the PictoPad. His stylus darted across the digital board, creating something not borne from his conscious thoughts. It was as though he was caught in a riptide, an irresistible force pulling him under. He could do nothing but let it take him where it wanted.

Will's pencil began to dance across the board of the ArtAssist PictoPad, sketching an outline that quickly grew into the silhouette of an old-fashioned grandfather clock. His hand then started adding more shapes, representing pieces of an old house – a splintered wooden chair, a dusty chandelier, a worn-out bookshelf, all seemingly floating in mid-air.

Connecting them all were intricate lines of spiderwebs, an elaborate network that gave an eerie sense of order to the chaos. And at the edge of the drawing, a shadowy spider lurked, casting a menacing presence over the scene.

At last, at the centre of the web, Will's pencil traced the form of a familiar blond boy, caught, bound, his slender frame vulnerable in the confines of the web.

As Will completed the drawing, he blinked, snapping out of the trance-like state he'd been in. He looked down at the finished piece, his heart pounding in his chest. The same boy had slipped into his dreams, and now here he was on his drawing. Will felt a flush creep up his neck as he realized how the bound pose of the boy looked quite... indecent.

He turned to Trevor, an apology already on his lips. But the words died as he noticed Trevor's pallor. He seemed to be shaking, his gaze fixated on the drawing. Will was struck by a sudden thought – could Trevor recognize the boy from his drawing? But that couldn't be true... could it?

Trevor seemed to pull himself back together and faced the crowd, an apology on his lips. "I'm sorry everyone, but we have to end the workshop early today," he said, his voice shaky but trying to sound confident. He glanced at Will, a deep look in his eyes that made Will shiver.

As Will began to move away, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and worry, he overheard Trevor speaking to one of the security guards. "I need to speak with Dr. Johnson," he said in a hushed, urgent voice. "It's an emergency."