Interlude Will

If Will were to use just one word to sum up how he felt about his brother now, it would be disappointment.

"You're my brother, and I love you. I want to take your side, but you're making it really hard," Will sighed. Looking at how miserable Jonathan appeared, Will wanted to be more sympathetic. But the undeniable truth was that it was all Jonathan's fault. Nancy was to blame too. It took at least two to cheat.

And Steve was not a complete stranger. Will liked Steve. He was less close to him than Dustin was, but still, he knew him well enough to know that his brother had hurt Steve badly.

"I didn't mean to," Jonathan replied, running his hand through his hair. He had been doing that for some time, messing his longish hair into a rebellious brown mop.

"So what? You slipped and your dick accidentally ended up in Nancy's pussy," Will drawled sarcastically.

"Language," Jonathan said by reflex.

"I'm seventeen, not seven," Will rolled his eyes. "What did you expect, Jonathan? For Steve to simply say, 'Well, no matter, I'm in the mood for a threesome anyway?'"

Jonathan blushed, guilty and refusing to meet Will's eyes.

"Really?" Will said with a huff. "I can't believe it. I really can't."

"It's not like that. I mean, the first time was when Nancy and Steve broke up. That wasn't cheating," Jonathan tried to defend himself, his words pouring out like water from a broken dam. "And then she went back to him. And afterwards, they broke up again, and we got together. And then she went back to Steve. After several times, we just stopped breaking up when she went back to Steve."

As he listened, Will almost felt like a cartoon character whose eyes were about to pop out of his head. He didn't know what to feel. It was much worse than he thought. But one thing nagged at him: How could he have missed that? His psychic powers should have made all this old news to him. Was his third eye going blind? Did he need some sort of psychic glasses?

But in the end, Will realized it was partly because there were things he didn't want to see—like the fact that Jonathan was attracted to Nancy—and things he avoided prying into, like his older brother's love life. He thought Jonathan's attraction was just pining from afar since he got along nicely with Steve, but it turned out his brother was just a very good liar.

"Whenever I think you've reached rock bottom, you show an almost dwarven talent for mining," Will said once Jonathan ran out of steam. "I can't even begin to unpack this. I mean, being the rebound guy, if you know both, is not okay. Not even once, let alone multiple times. How long has this been going on? How long have you been trying to steal Nancy from Steve?"

"I am not trying to steal Nancy," his brother made more excuses. "She can be a bit too much."

"And you're charitably helping Steve?" Will said, sarcasm tasting like bile in his mouth. How could his brother be so stupid? "If only we all had such 'helpful' friends," Will made finger quotes. "We wouldn't need any enemies."

"It's not like that. I didn't want to hurt Steve," Jonathan said. "That's why we kept the affair secret."

"If you didn't want to hurt him, you wouldn't have slept with his girlfriend behind his back. Or at least, you would have stopped doing it. Or been honest about it and confessed."

"That would hurt Steve."

"Less than finding out like this?"

"He wasn't supposed to find out!"

"Did you believe you could carry on like this forever?" From his brother's expression, Will could easily guess the answer. "You didn't think at all. You fail so hard at being an adult that your ID should be revoked."

"I wanted to talk to Steve about this… But the longer you keep a secret, the harder it is to come clean," Jonathan said. "And I didn't want to be the reason Nancy and Steve broke up."

Will was confused. The more his brother talked, the less sense he made. Did Jonathan even know what he wanted?

"Do you even know what you want, Jonathan?" Will asked, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Because right now, it sounds like you're just trying to have everything and everyone, without thinking about the consequences."

"I want things to go back to how they were," Jonathan said. "Just with Steve knowing about it. It worked."

"It really did not. Not if Steve was ignorant of the arrangement. I think you blew any chance of a threesome with all the lies. Relationships need trust, and I'm not sure you can get Steve back. Either of you."

Jonathan's face twisted with frustration. "Enough. I didn't tell you all this because I wanted to be judged. I need your help."

Will scoffed, shaking his head. "You need a professional. You and Nancy both. I don't even have an idea where to start untangling the mess you made. Wait. Does Steve even know this isn't a one-time thing?"

Jonathan's eyes darted away. "I don't think so. He left before we had a chance to talk. And now I can't find him."

"In his shoes, I wouldn't want to see either of you. Ever again."

Jonathan's desperation was palpable. "That's why I need your help. Can you see if he's alright? I'm worried."

"Just so you know, I'm doing this for Steve, not you," Will said, taking out his sketch pad. It was the medium he liked most for scrying. Remote viewing was the technical term, but Will preferred "scrying." The influence of playing Dungeons and Dragons. "You've hurt Steve and hurt him a lot. I just want to make sure he doesn't do something unfortunate. Like get drunk or hire a hooker."

"Steve would never hire a hooker," Jonathan said, sounding somewhere between scandalized and afraid.

"You're right. He's handsome enough to get sex easily for free."

The first thing Will needed was pure focus. If his mind wandered, he would never find Steve. The information would be lost in the noise.

He needed to let go of his frustration and disappointment. Emotions were potent fuel for psychic power, but they made control difficult. Useful for crude things like telekinesis, but less so for delicate tasks like scrying.

But ridding oneself of unwanted emotion was easier said than done.

As he was taught, he began with slow, rhythmic breathing, untangling the knots in his thoughts.

One thing this whole mess with Jonathan had taught him was that leaving things to drag on too long would make a mess. Will sighed. He would need to sit and talk with Zach.

The boy had just declared him "Future Boyfriend Will" on live TV. But Zach was no longer a boy. A two-year age difference when Will was fourteen and Zach twelve was less of an insurmountable barrier to dating than now, with Will seventeen and Zach fifteen.

Perhaps now, Will could give him a chance. After all, dating is about finding out if one wants to be in a relationship. But there would be some strict rules. No dating until Zach was at least sixteen, and no sex until he reached eighteen. Will was too pretty for prison. And he would frankly explain to Zach that he was still not over Mike.

Jonathan had shown how important communication and trust were in a relationship. Mostly by making such a mess of his.

Making that decision cleared his mind, and he began to draw.

The lines on the paper started to take shape, his hand moving almost of its own accord as his psychic abilities guided him. The lines were harsh, his pencil nearly tearing the paper. The sketch revealed an eerily lit hall. A Nazi flag draped over a large black sun emblem on the wall caught Will's attention immediately.

Two figures stood in the centre, with many more indistinct shapes around them.

As Will added more detail, the nature of the gathering was revealed.

It was a wedding.

With each line added, it became clear that the groom was Steve. He stood at the front of the room, dressed in a pristine Nazi uniform, complete with medals and insignias that glinted ominously under the harsh lights. His expression was blank, almost robotic, as if he were merely a puppet in someone else's play.

Beside him was a bride, her face obscured by a veil. The dress was elegant, traditional, but the context made it grotesque. Will couldn't see her face, but he could feel her presence—hollow.

Each stroke of the pencil added more Nazi imagery to the room. Swastikas adorned the walls, and the guests were dressed in SS uniforms. It was a macabre celebration of something deeply twisted. The audience sat in rigid rows, their faces expressionless, as if they were mannequins placed there to fill the seats.

"This is some sort of metaphor?" Jonathan asked, breaking Will's focus. "Steve is not getting married in a Nazi-themed wedding right now?"

"Hopefully not. But once I drew Damien being eaten by a giant spider, and that wasn't a metaphor," Will said, setting down his pencil. "Whatever it is, Steve is not in his right mind. I could sense it. He's completely out of it."

Jonathan's face turned pale. "We need to save him right now!"

Will agreed with the sentiment, but there was a practical problem. "I can't sense where he is. So either he's really, really far away or someone or something is interfering with my powers. If Steve was kidnapped by neo-Nazi cultists for breeding purposes, they may have psychic Nazis or monster-summoning Nazis. We need to get El. And the others. We need as much help as we can get."

Jonathan nodded, determination flashing in his eyes. "Let's go at once."

"I'm not keeping what you and Nancy had a secret. It may be relevant to saving Steve," Will added, packing up his sketch pad and pencils.

Jonathan winced but nodded. "It doesn't matter. Saving Steve is what matters most."