Will's answer made a lot more sense than he probably meant it to. Fisher knew what it was like to feel unreal, like you were stuck between two different places and no matter how you twisted yourself, you didn't fit. For Will, it was makeup. For Fisher, drugs. Those were the outside forces that they used to try and cope.
"So... who you're supposed to be is Liberacci?" he teased, tucking a strand of long black hair behind his ear. "I guess to each his own. I mean, glitter eye junk isn't my thing, but if it makes you happy... then cool. I guess." Not that his opinion should matter at all to Will. He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on his kneecaps.