((I got thrown a curveball so this is really late and I am so so sorry.)) 1/2
As Arcturus marched off to procure a second beverage Will cast another glance at the broom and found his fingers itching to draw. It was a finely crafted object. Much sleeker than the scraggly illustrations of witches riding he had seen. Not the unimaginative household broom some fools added into their fantasies, either. As if a real magical person shopped in the household aisle of the local hardware store! But it was rude to sketch when he was meant to be having fun with an acquaintance. The other boy was not one of the Party and might not understand it didn’t indicate boredom or inattention. Not everyone could easily divide their mind between creativity and conversation the way Will was able to. He tried to memorize the way the tail of the broom curved and where exactly the compass was clamped to for later recreation.
Soon enough a rather large mug was set before him. The smaller teen sat up a little straighter, immediately curious. He wondered what butterbeer was but archived that question for another time in favor of exploring what he had been served. The rich aroma of it tickled somewhere in the bridge of his nose as Will lifted his mug from the table. It did not have the cheap acetone-like scent of the beer Lonnie sometimes stank of nor the eye-watering harshness of hard liquor left in sticky puddles on the coffee table. It was not a bad smell at all, actually. Will cradled the mug in his hands, taking a moment to watch light glisten off its amber surface, then took an experimental sip. It was bitter but not unpleasant and felt silky on his tongue. He had not been expecting to like an alcoholic drink at all having had primarily negative experiences with them. But with another sip he found Arcturus had been right--- it was refreshing and enjoyable.
Like the eager student he had always been Will listened to the following elaboration on flying broomsticks with an intent expression. It was a little complex but nothing his well-lubricated mind could not understand. That answered his question about the comfort of being astride a stick. He wondered when that charm had been invented and if people had to have their crotches crushed before it. There seemed to be a charm for everything. Did that make life easier or was it simply trading one struggle for some other complication? “A broom sounds kind of like a bike, only more complicated and a lot older.” Will mused. Perhaps the comparison would be insulting but the maintenance and skill required was the best parallel his mind could draw. Zooming down as hill on a bike felt a little like flying, too.
It was kind of Arcturus to gentle the blow of Will’s inability to pilot a broom. Though he felt more resigned than wistful about it. After all, the ordinary teen was well aware he was not magical in the slightest and had not been expecting to do any such thing. Perhaps Dustin would have protested this self-deprecating assertion. But he was loathe to broach the topic of his episodes with anyone and would very much prefer not to have his ‘true sight’. As much as they liked to assign D&D names to the terrible things that happened in Hawkins there was a difference between science and sorcery. El wasn’t really a mage and her powers were far more ‘magical’ than the horrific ability Will had been cursed with. Even the cluster of dark abilities his bout with the Mind Flayer had granted him were nothing like the bright, mystical energy that Arcturus possessed. All this went rapidly through Will’s mind like a cloud over the moon, not outwardly noticeable.