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.
bethkrichards:
“You know, just because you’re sick in bed, it doesn’t give you a free pass to talk about how attractive you think my brother is,” Beth teased, giving his shoulder a poke with her finger. “When I come back, I’ll be throwing popcorn at you the whole movie.” Cole wanted to try something new, and this was it. They’d never really talked about Adam in this same light in years. It was strange, getting used to talking about him in the present tense, leaving out the part about his death like it’d never happened. Ever since Adam had come back, they’d never discussed why or how his sudden reappearance came to be: it just was. That seemed to be more than enough for both of them.
Still, she sauntered off to the kitchen, throwing in a bowl of kernels to microwave, just as Cole had asked. Beth noticed that there was a photo of the three of them in there again, perched on a shelf, from Adam’s football days. One that made her smile now, instead of wanting to cry. “Here’s your snack, my liege,” she offered upon reappearance, sitting down on the couch beside him with a bowl full of warm popcorn. “Forgive me for a moment until I get up again and put the movie in, will you? I want to hear about how you’re doing without the voice, and face, of Link Larkin distracting us.”
xx.
“What, I need a pass now? Being the love of his life suddenly isn’t enough?” Cole pouted, leaning his head back dramatically. “Count your blessings, Elizabeth, because if he hadn’t met me do you have any idea how many guys he would’ve gone through looking like that?” He was intentionally laying it on thick, and the grin showing through his hand was evidence enough. As Beth stood up to get the popcorn, Cole couldn’t help the content smile on his face. Sure, things were complicated with what happened at the carnival and how Adam came back in the first place, but he couldn’t help how right this felt. How this was always what life was meant to be.
Cole took the bowl, ignoring the pang in his ribs as he stretched his arm out to grab it. At this point, the pain was all the same, just a dull, nagging ache. “Woah, no need for formalities. I’m still the same old Cole,” he teased. He took a few pieces of popcorn and smiled agreeably at her proposition. They did have a lot to catch up on. “Link Larkin can wait.” Cole shifted his body so he could face Beth head-on. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m worried about him, you know? He’s gonna carry that shit-- the guilt-- no matter what I say.”
eddiemcnson:
+++
droplets of nervous sweat starting to appear above his brow, eddie’s eyes darted down to where cole pulled out that blasted bandana before he took both the cigarette and lighter from him. he clicked it a couple of times, no light appeared, eddie nervously glanced back up at cole, down at the lighter. violently shook it around for a moment, another attempt - it thankfully lit this time and he handed it back to cole.
he was a bundle of nerves. the previous pleasant buzz from the alcohol had almost entirely disappeared, he flicked the cigarette’s filter repeatedly, fidgeted with his rings on his other hand. as if he was almost….waiting for cole to ridicule him. instead, however, he said something completely unexpected and eddie chocked on his own breath, sputtering cough.
he looked up to lock eyes with him. i am, too. the fuck did he mean? and ‘too’? was this some sort of trap? or was he literally genuinely saying what…eddie thought…he was saying? hadn’t he not gotten any of his surely widely popularly used phrases moments ago? he quirked a brow, took a drag once his coughing had subised. “you are….what?”, eyes narrowed, voice low in case this was, indeed, a trap.
adam richards was mentioned and, oh, jeez, it all made sense. eddie almost instantly felt bad, a guilty nauseau creeping up on him. way to go, munson, way to go. “your best friend, wasn’t he?” brows pulled together, lips twisted into a sympathetic smile. of course, max hadn’t been the only one who’d lost someone on the very ground they were standing on. “listen, man, i’m so…sorry - like, that’s gotta be rough, like, being here and everything. sorry. i can go and leave you alone if you want to.”
xx.
Cole didn’t waver under Eddie’s gaze. If he was correct, Eddie’s behavior made sense. Cole felt it too, the fear of being found out by someone who wasn’t safe. It was the reason Cole and Adam snuck around for the three years they were together-- to avoid the football jocks and the band geeks and the teachers berating them and calling them names. Only it never stopped there; it often got physical, violent. Of course Eddie was afraid.
It was like they were playing chicken, like they were standing in front of a train for as long as possible and pulling back at the last second-- exhilarating, maybe, but not satisfying. Something about being in the mall, all his thoughts about Adam... it was the perfect concoction for a confession. “I like guys,” he said, meeting Eddie’s eyes again. “Adam was my boyfriend.”
And then: relief. Cole felt like he’d recovered part of himself, like he’d regained a phantom limb. He hadn’t been able to talk about his feelings this openly since, well, Adam. It was refreshing, rejuvenating even. “If you want, I’ll prove it,” he teased, giving Eddie a once-over. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so open about it, but what’s the worst that could happen?
cassieconrads:
Cassie picked up a tape, putting it back carefully where she’d found it. The last thing she wanted to do was make more work for Cole, who seemed to be alone in the store at the moment. Still, she couldn’t help but lower her voice. “I don’t know, what I saw at the cemetery, I keep seeing it when I try to sleep. It’s like a dream, but honestly, probably more like a nightmare.” Maybe Cole had something like that going on for him, too. It was all she could hope to confirm that she wasn’t insane.
“Did you–did something like that happen to you, too? I think it was … it started raining, right? I think it was before that, but everything is so hard to remember,” she said, frustrated. “Did we really drink that much? I didn’t think we did, but this feels like the worst blackout of my life, and you can ask Nancy, there have been quite a few of those.”
xx.
Cole nodded along as she spoke, focusing his eyes on the records in front of him. He didn’t want her to see how unsettling her response was; he didn’t want to think about what it meant if other people saw scary shit, too. Stealing a glance at Cassie’s face, Cole frowned.
“I don’t know. I thought it was because I hit my head,” he confessed, flipping a cassette tape over in his hands, trying to keep his mind occupied. “But mine felt like a dream, too. Only... a really real one.”
jackforeman:
It pained Jack to see Cole seem so on edge when he’d sat down beside the bed. Not that he could blame him, though, for what he’d apparently done at the carnival that he couldn’t even remember. He knew that Adam had been acting the same way, or so Jo had told him, and if he had explained to Cole that he had no idea what had happened, then maybe he would believe Jack, too. “I’m so sorry, seriously, if I–had anything to do with you feeling like shit.” He gave a pained smile; even if he hadn’t directly hurt Cole, he was somehow a part of setting up the fireworks that had led to this disaster. That much was made clear to him.
Jack gave a shrug, since it was really the only response he had. “I don’t know, I mean, I’m not injured or anything, which is kind of weird.” He thought about hearing that he’d fought Steve, who wasn’t by any means a weak person; he must have defended himself to some capacity. “I don’t remember any of it, either, which is … did Adam say that, too? I haven’t seen him since then.” Not when all Jack could think was that Adam might have been the one who killed him.
xx.
At Jack’s second apology, Cole started to feel guilty, too. For what exactly, he wasn’t sure. But he wasn’t mad at Jack. Clearly what happened wasn’t in his control as much as it wasn’t in Adam’s control. So Cole motioned at the chair next to his bed that Adam had been occupying earlier in an invitation for Jack to sit. “It’s not your fault, man. Nothing I didn’t get in middle school, either,” he attempted a joke, then cringed as it came out more pathetic-sounding than he anticipated. “Seriously. I’m fine.”
That was weird-- Cole remembered Jack shoving him and Steve around, and Steve had definitely fought back. “I guess Harrington lost his touch,” he murmured, still mulling over how Jack had escaped unscathed. He bit his bottom lip, glancing up to the door as if Adam would walk in at any second. Then, refocusing on Jack, he sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, he doesn’t remember anything, except--” Cole frowned, stopped short. “Except, we got in this big fight before he... left. He was acting like he did at the carnival. And he didn’t remember it until now.” He shook his head; none of this made any sense. “You didn’t suddenly recover any memories, right?” he asked, another feeble attempt at a joke.
who: Cole & @drewcampbell
where: The Music Center
It had been a week and a half since Cole had gotten out of the hospital, and he’d run a few errands by himself despite his mother’s and Adam’s protests. Truly, Cole was sick of being stuck in the house, like he had been sick of the hospital room. He was restless. Though the owner of the Music Center had told him to take all the time he needed, Cole wanted to go back in to work, if only to get out of the house for a while. Plus, he hadn’t taught the new guy how to do inventory, and Cole hated when the owner attempted it. He’d once come back to find Joni Mitchell in the heavy metal section, and promptly banned anyone else from the job.
The drive over was a spectacle, from Cole having to carefully lower himself into the driver’s seat and avoid moving too much or too quickly and inflame the pain in his broken ribs, to him driving with one hand and adjusting the radio with his arm in the sling. But, he pulled into his usual parking spot and let himself into the Music Center from the back door. Smiling at Drew, Cole waved with his good arm. “Hey, man. How’s it going? Holding everything down here?” he asked, eyes skimming over piles of undone inventory. Cole tucked a stack of records under his arm and busied himself immediately.
He turned, feeling Drew’s eyes on his back, and supposed he should explain his more-ghostly-than normal appearance, the still-healing cuts and bruises, the sling. “From the carnival. Wrong place, wrong time,” he grimaced. Then, lifting a brow, he asked the other: “Were you there? I don’t remember much. You didn’t get hurt, did you?” He didn’t know much about Drew, so he wasn’t necessarily worried about him, but Cole winced at the thought that they’d forced him to work because Cole had been hospitalized.
WHO: max mayfield & @loverboymontgomery WHAT: after max and cole hop of their walkies, max shows up, heart to hearts are had, and the glimpses of each other in their own behaviors become abundantly apparent (aka colemax mirrors w hints of lumax and richgomery) WHERE: the montgomery residence, july 1st-ish
Keep reading
who: Cole & @goldenboyrichards
where: Cole’s hospital room :’)
Everything hurt: his head, his abdomen, his shoulder, his throat. He blinked, but his eyes were heavy and hard to open. What the fuck had happened? His head felt foggy, and his memories were short and senseless. He saw a flash of the Tunnel of Love ride, some unidentified black goo, an explosion, and... Adam looking angry. At him. Adam shoving him away, telling Cole to ‘leave him the fuck alone.’
Cole tried to turn onto his side, to hide his teary eyes from the door, in case anyone walked in. Only, moving was no longer simple-- he must’ve broken a rib or two, because the pain that lit up Cole’s body was almost strong enough to knock him out. “Fuck,” he exclaimed, brows knit together and stars in his eyes. If he could keep his eyes open long enough to look around, he might have seen Steve in the bed across the room or the figure entering the room and nearing his bed.
Lifting his hands to his face, Cole shielded his eyes from the fluorescent lights. “Why are the lights so fucking bright,” he grumbled to no one in particular. He was about to complain about the bed being angled too high when he locked eyes with him.
His stomach did a backflip and Cole’s mouth dropped open. He desperately searched Adam’s eyes, trying to decipher who he was right now-- his Adam or... whatever he’d been at the carnival?
“Hey,” he managed, after a beat of silence. Cole desperately wanted to be held, to have some confirmation that Adam was himself again, to push the memories of anyone else to the edge of his mind.
The Wheeler family barbecue wasn't exactly Cole's first choice as far as Memorial Day festivities go. He would much rather be by the lake, pretending to read a book-- away from all the prying eyes of Hawkins' very own helicopter parents. But one chance run-in with Steve Harrington can derail even the strongest man's plans for the day. And Cole didn't mind, he sort of liked the twitch Karen Wheeler got when he was around.
See, Karen and Cole's mom used to be friends-- best friends, as Cole understood it. But best friends in the girl way, where they secretly hate each other and are always competing to be the prettiest, smartest, funniest, whatever. And then Maggie Montgomery got shipped off to New York and Karen won prom queen and that was supposed to be that. Until Maggie came back with a son, born around the same time as Karen's oldest, and suddenly the competition began again. Whose kid would be the smartest? The most athletic? The prettiest? It was amusing to Cole, especially in the last few years since he and Nancy have become friends.
So, he matched Karen's polite smile when he greeted her and raided her kitchen, making a plate of every feasible kind of chip and dip he could find. Karen watched him the whole time, peppering him with faux-questions used to assert Nancy's superiority. Are you still at Indiana State? Meaning: you aren't at a real college like Emory. How are you liking the Music Center? Meaning: Nancy has a real job running a newspaper, etc etc. After no less than twenty questions, Cole escaped to the front yard and to a cold beer. Glancing sideways, he noticed that Nancy had the same idea. "Prized pony, huh?" He grinned, clinking his beer to her plastic cup. "What would Mrs. Wheeler think if she knew Secretariat was defiling her body with alcohol?" he whispered, raising his eyebrows. "Hey, say the word and we can get outta here. You know I love to see Karen squirm."
𝐖𝐇𝐎: Nancy Wheeler & OPEN
𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓: Nancy escapes the confines of Karen Wheeler, spots your muse, and forces them to talk to her.
𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: Memorial Day aka Nancy’s Day!
Nancy had been home from Emerson for approximately five days and eight hours. In that time, she had barely seen the sunlight let alone escape from the grasp that was Karen Wheeler’s perfectly manicured hand. It was thing after thing with her mom. First, they went to the nail salon, then grocery shopping, then to The Gap, and then to her nana’s house for a visit. There had barely been time for her to even sit down and breathe for the last week. Then Karen began talking about how they should throw a BBQ for Nancy! It made perfect sense, in Karen’s mind. The Wheeler’s knew so many people and a cook out on Memorial Day was the perfect kickstarter to reintroduce Nancy to people who she had actively been avoiding since leaving Hawkins. Nancy would protest, looking over at her dad who’s glued to his Lay-Z Boy for some help, only for Ted to grumble and ask, “Do I have to cook?”
There was no use and come Memorial Day, the Wheeler’s backyard had been decorated. Her dad was on the grill and her mom was pushing Nancy along to talk to all of Karen’s friends. Nancy goes to Emerson! She’s a part of Alpha Epsilon Phi! And she’s dating the president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon! Oh, and she’s editor-in-chief at The Berkeley Beacon! Karen was bragging and bragging about all of Nancy’s accolades. It seemed to give Karen a leg up against all of her other friends who’s kids were still stuck in Hawkins. “Hey, I’ll be right back,” she said, excusing herself from the gaggle of moms.
Grabbing a red solo cup, she snuck off with one of the beers she spotted in the cooler, and poured it in the cup. There was no way she could tackle this sober. Taking a long drink, she spotted a familiar face, and booked it towards them. She needed some kind of distraction away from the clutches of Karen Wheeler. “Hey, do you think you could distract me for like… five minutes before I have to go back to being trotted around like a prized pony?”
walden "cole" montgomery / 21 / junior at indiana state / manager at the music center / the loverboy* penned by nikki
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