𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝; byler

- ¢нαρтєя тωєиту- σиє -

THE LOCATION LOOKED exactly like he had expected it to look.

A tall building, with a large glass door and an honest-to-god doorman standing at the entrance. Wearing an actual uniform, like the movies. Will stood to the side, watching expensive looking cars stopping in front of the door one after one, with expensive looking people stepping out of them.

Older women, older men, all decked in attire that undoubtedly cost more than Will's childhood home.  Spectacular dresses, impeccable suits, perfect makeup and perfect hair. Actual, real life artists.

Will already felt so out of place, and he hadn't even stepped into the party. His former decision not to drink seemed absolutely ridiculous. There was no way he would get through this sober- no way in hell. He was actually starting to shake- and suddenly his tie seemed to cut off his air supply completely, and he had to resist the strong urge to rip it off his neck.

But, there was nothing to do but try to calm his breath and step through the doors, up the elevator full of people to the 9th floor. 

If only Mike could be there, like he was in that first day of AA. 

He could see it only too clearly: Mike driving him to the location, complaining the whole way that he couldn't go in with Will. 
You'll do great, he would have said. Kissed him, kissed him in a way that would melt all his insecurities. How they would've been late because Mike would insist on tying Will's tie for him, even though he couldn't tie a tie to save his life... Just like they were late to graduation. The image of Mike's focused face as he wrestled with the tie almost put a smile to his face.. and even though the heartbreak was quick to follow, it also made Will more confidant.

You're doing this for him. 

✴ ⁕ ✴ ⁕ ✴

The inside was just as intimidating as the outside. The large, glass windowed room was so plain white it was scary. It was embraced with the soft classical music played by tux-wearing men in the corner, and the soft clinking of champagne glasses. The chatter was flowing, though faint- it was a grown up, fancy party, one for artists no less. 

He couldn't be more out of place if he tried.

The artists, some of which Will actually recognized, gathered around small tables, drinking and chatting. Some were walking around, looking at thick framed paintings hanging on the walls- and his heart practically stopped.

There it was, hanging smack in the middle of the room, in between an array of other ones, the painting. His painting. He stood frozen, staring ahead at people observing his creation. 

"Champagne, sir?" A voice called next to him. Will turned to face a tall boy, dressed in a tux identical to the one worn by the musicians, offering a tray full of the tall champagne glasses. He had to be no older than Will, with light brown curly hair and a tag on his shirt that read "Stanley".

Will didn't even answer, grabbing two glasses and downing them at fast as he could. The boy, Stanley, stood watching as Will put the glasses down and grabbed two more.

"Sorry, but you don't look like the rest of the people here. Any chance you go to the college?" He asked in a small voice, and Will swallowed the last of the bubbly drink and nodded, before moving to the fourth cup. Thank god for this.

"Oh! I'm Stan, Stan Uris." The boy smiled, a pleasant smile, ""This may be a long shot, but I'm actually in town to surprise my boyfriend-- do you happen to know a Bill Denbrough?"

Will almost choked. He removed the glass from his lips and coughed ferociously as he stared at Stanley. Bill had a boyfriend? 

But it wasn't bizarre at all. Actually, it sort of made perfect sense- and he could totally see this cute tall Stan with Bill. The thought would've made him smile, was he not so nervous.