Cole Being Lonnie Coded - Blog Posts

willthewize​:

     Will looked up from his sketchbook as a familiar figure approached, a surprised smile forming on his face to see him out of the blue. Cole hadn’t called to let him know he was stopping by, but it wasn’t an unwelcome visit by any means. But then something about the nervous tone the other guy spoke with—or just the words themselves, there’s something I wanna talk to you about, which were never usually the opener to a pleasant conversation—clued him into the fact that this was maybe more serious than a friendly little hang-out, and his easy grin faltered.

     “Sure, wanna…?” He motioned to the bench, the space next to him, offering a seat before Cole continued on to say that he had talked to Jonathan, and…why would he feel the need to tell him that, anyway? What was this all abo…Lonnie’s my dad, too. Oh. Oh. That wasn’t the last thing Will had expected to hear: it wasn’t even on the list.  His gaze suddenly focused on the sling Cole wore, the loose threads he fiddled with and he replied, “How is your arm doing?” It was almost funny that he would rather talk about the aftermath of the carnival, with its explosions and casualties, than his—their—father.

     He had to answer the massive revelation that was just dropped. Paradigm-altering information. His dad was Cole’s dad, too. But what was he supposed to say—my condolences? This shouldn’t be quite as much of a rug-pull as all that had been happening this summer with the border and the doppelganger and the cabin and who knew what else. Was it really surprising that Lonnie Byers had had another son with someone out there (even one whose age made it clear that the man had had an affair?) Not really. But Will couldn’t help the feeling that in all of this, he was the butt of some cosmic joke right now.

     It was like he was always the last to know anything, like he was always the one who walked into a room right after something cool happened, always just missing the moment. Or in cases like this—like nobody thought he could handle the truth; he was just too fragile, too sensitive, or at least that was how everyone viewed him. Jonathan knew? Will didn’t even think he and Cole were friends. How long was ‘a while back,’ anyway: a couple weeks or even longer? When the hell would Will become an active participant in his own life, instead of stuff just…happening and him learning to deal with it. Not today, evidently.

     Rather than allowing himself to get upset, Will had to remember that this wasn’t just a big deal to him, in fact it wasn’t about him. It was Cole’s news to share when he felt ready—the fact that they were…they were brothers. They were half-brothers. They were related. They have been this whole time. Well, obviously. Cole has known it, the whole time…? Will forced himself to look up and meet his eyes. “That must have been really difficult for you,” he said. “Thanks for telling me.” That wasn’t what he wanted to say. He had so many questions and no way to verbalize them, because the moment he started, he just stuttered, “So, when did…I mean, have you always…Did you…What?”

xx.

Too nervous to sit down, Cole leaned against the porch rail instead, his nervous fingers moving between picking at the cast to tapping on the splintering wood  Cole’s expression betrayed his bewilderment at Will’s question. Had he heard what he’d said? Had he said it aloud at all? But, autopilot kicked in and he answered with a shrug, “It’s fine, I guess. Just a fracture. Should be off in a few more weeks.” 

He studied Will’s face, trying to read any emotion he could detect, and also trying to find any similarities, any features they shared. Growing up, Cole had always been told he was the spitting image of his mother-- he had her dark curls and her eyes and her cheekbones. Maybe he hoped he had her temperament too-- her easygoing spirit, her openness. But lately he’s wondered what all he’d inherited from the other side: the drinking? The standoffishness? The thought itself made him want to reach for the flask in his back pocket, but he could investigate that urge later. 

Will seemed upset, which was understandable. It was a lot to take in, and Cole’s lingering feeling of being exposed intensified. Maybe Will and Jonathan were upset at him-- maybe he was right in thinking that his very existence was a scandal. It certainly made sense, even his own grandparents had wanted to hide him away, to let his mother and aunt raise him in New York. For a brief moment, Cole entertained the question: what would his life look like now if he’d stayed in New York? Who would he be? Would it be better for everyone in Hawkins if he’d simply stayed gone?

When Will finally spoke, Cole’s shoulders relaxed in relief. Whatever it was, it was better than the silence. But he certainly hadn’t expected this. Cole opened his mouth to respond, then clamped it shut again. Will was... thanking him? He couldn’t make sense of that. Will was a sweet kid, he’d always known that, but this level of empathy felt like too much to ask for. “No, don’t... I mean... I’m sorry,” he managed. He was lost, wondering how Will was being so nice about it all. Maybe it wasn’t a huge deal to him, but... wouldn’t it be to Cole if the roles were reversed? He’d probably be furious, but maybe Will hadn’t inherited the rage gene from Lonnie. 

Then, when Will tried asking for more information, Cole clicked into gear. That he could do. The minefield of what each of them were thinking and feeling, not so much in his lane. “Right. I found out five years ago,” Cole admitted, with an apologetic smile. “There was sort of... a lot going on for you guys. I didn’t want to, like, make it worse.” Cole shrugged, not sure if Max had told Will that Cole knew, but not sure it even mattered at the moment. “Then, I... guess I thought it wasn’t a big deal for a while. But, with everything...” he gestured vaguely, hoping to communicate that he meant the bigger picture in town.

“I wanted you to hear it from me,” he settled on. Not that Cole’s life was in any immediate danger, other than the way that everyone’s was all the time. Still, it felt like an urgent enough need to come here today.