Chapter Text
[ My words won’t come out.
They get stuck in my mind.
And when they play hard to get
they get harder to find.
I want to speak up
but my words hold on tight
to a standard that says
they must come out “just right.”
So they stay hidden deep
in my mind and I know:
if I can’t learn to share
then I can’t learn to grow. ]
[ Jessy Humann ]
__
(He can nevertheless sense the Mind Flayer. Ubiquitous at every turning point, descending upon his skin and writhing along his interior. He surges through him, as though he and Will are one. Like raindrops to the sea. Maybe they were meant to be.)
“Will, what’s your action?” Mike exclaims enthusiastically. (Lies. All Lies. They’re just remorseful. They want to make it up to him by feigning enjoying playing DnD.)
Will scratches at his wrists, (he promised he’d stop, but the urge is unrivaled.) “Um, sorry, what was the obstacle?” It was challenging to produce any engagement to the game when his thoughts were so incredibly vociferous.
Mike sighed dolorously, as though he was the one who always wanted to play DnD with the party, and was constantly rejected. “Will, what’s wrong, man? You’ve been disengaged the entire game.” He scrutinizes Will in anxiety, come what may the case that Will could fracture into fragments if not observed frequently.
(Where was this enthusiasm in the game when Will was desperately begging to play? He hated this. Loathed them attempting to repair him like he was some damaged toy. Every meal time, eyes glued onto Will’s body, checking if he gained weight and if there were any new scars to be troubled about. And this fucking pity tournament, with music and costumes, like they were trying to relive their guilty consciousness.)
Of course, Mike could regard the bitterness that dissolved into Will's expression, his face composing into a sneer, close to hollering out the bottled emotions he was possessing. Mike cringed at his best friend’s recently discovered anger and could see the way Will’s hands curled into fists, shaking at the endeavor to store back his irritation. Mike moves to advance for Will’s hands, but the other drew them to his chest like Mike’s touch physically burns. Mike couldn’t barricade the pained look from obscuring his face.
“I’m going to the washroom,” Will muttered quietly, jolting out of his place to abide refuge in the Wheeler basement’s bathroom. He doesn’t fail to detect the worried countenances of all his friends- Max, El, Dustin, Lucas, and obviously Mike- observing him as he flees their sight.
Mike itches with the necessity to discover if Will was alright, but he understood it would just cause more harm. God, why was he so bad at helping the people he loved? Mentally, he’s counting the minutes' Will is in the washroom, ears straining to make sure there was no retching erupting from the restroom. He didn’t entirely comprehend the particulars of what Will was going through, no matter how formidable, and for a prolonged amount of time, he spent searching for anything that could enable him to understand.
“The food, it…sticks out? I mean, the texture is overwhelming, and it smells awful, and it sticks to my mouth and lingers. I feel like I’ll choke on it, and- I know it’s stupid, but it feels like him whenever I eat.” Will had earlier articulated to him.
And Mike can’t soothe the guilt that journeys through every bone in his body, the way he shrinks into himself whenever he sees Will because it was his blame to bear. Sure, he wasn’t the primary reason, but he didn’t particularly help in any way. Will sought someone that would listen, a shoulder to cry on, and Mike hadn’t been there for him. He brushed him aside, and allowed the ravine between them to evolve, to the point where Will couldn’t call out anymore. A step toward the other would result in a plummet towards the darkness that sat at the bottom of the canyon that was their friendship.
One foot in front of the other, and Mike discovered he had hauled himself to the washroom door. A hand slowly met the door’s surface in three, short and quiet taps. There was scrambling behind the entry, and he was frozen with uncertainty. “Will?” He whispered.
The door unfurled slowly, a diminutive gateway between the basement and the restroom Will occupied himself in, available for Mike to enter through. After a beat, he acknowledged that Will wasn’t going to exit, and he would have to be the one to enter. He crammed his way through the aperture, Will’s hand lingering on the doorknob, and he sealed the entrance once Mike was inside. The stillness encompassed the room, and Mike gazed at everything but the other’s face. Slowly, his sight met his best friend’s, and the dam crashed, tears gushed out of Will’s eyes.
“Shit, Will- what’s wrong?” Mike’s hands waved about as Will slowly slid to the washroom ground. He joined him on the floor, uselessly hovering around Will’s crying form.
“I’m sorry, I tried, I really did,” Will muttered on repeat, curling in on himself.
And Mike ceased hesitating, setting his hands on Will’s shoulders in some sort of attempt to comfort him. He endeavored to wrap his head around the depiction of Will’s words. “What- What do you mean? What’s wrong Will?”
Will took a shuttering breath, “I- I lied. I haven’t eaten at all today, and everything I ate the past few days, I just threw it up later. I promise- I swear I tried not to. You have to believe me, Mike, I tried, I really did. But I just- I couldn’t eat. You’ve been so happy that I was improving, but nothing’s changed, I’m ruining all my progress because that’s all I can do. I ruin things, I’m hopeless.” Will stifles on a sob, straining in vain to retract himself from Mike’s tensing grip.
But Mike can’t let go- won’t let go. He draws Will’s taut form into a bone-crushing embrace, and he regards tears drenching his shirt, but he can’t find it within himself to care though, not when Will is in distress. Mike needs to get the words out. “Will. Hey, it’s okay- that’s fine. I don’t expect it all to be better right away Will, I know you’re trying your best, a few slip-ups every now and then won’t take away from your effort. I am proud of you, and I always will be. You’re so strong, you’ve been through so much Will, and I'll always be here for you. No matter what.”
Mike holds him tighter as he continues on, feeling Will’s chest expanding, his heart beating in sync with his. Will’s head now rests on Mike’s shoulder, arms dangling loosely against Mike’s arms, which are wrapped around him. They are interrupted soon after, by knocks on the door. Returning to the DnD game, everyone could detect Will’s changed mood, the way his engagement had sparked and he had adapted to the tournament. No one questioned what happened in the washroom, however.
And when it came time to eat, Mike was at Will’s side through it all. He had told his mom to make a specific dish that Will found bearable compared to others, making certain he didn’t force himself, but still consumed adequately.
(Will’s cynical thoughts were silent, permitting a moment of serenity. Mike appeared to fetch that out of Will whenever he was around him. He didn’t focus on the implication of that, though. Just relished the company of his best friend.)
__
Will was alone. Joyce and Jonathan out of the house, leaving him alone in the residence, where the environment had suddenly turned hostile. He could hear whispers creeping on his back, speaking of his demise. The Mind Flayer’s presence lured ever nearer, creeping around the corner, taking over Will again-
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. His breathing stuttered and shifted, gasping for breath through his mouth with nothing being drawn in. And suddenly, he was back in the Upside Down, inhaling the toxic air and suffocating on it. Every puff burned his throat like acid, eyes watering as he continues respiring in the tainted atmosphere.
(This isn’t real. He’s not in the Upside Down. He was saved. He’s in his house. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.)
Except it’s not working, and he can’t get it through to his absurd brain that he’s safe. It’s all too much, and he wants everything to shut up. The house phone absentmindedly rings, and he can’t even remember venturing to it, or whose number he’s dialed. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Why won’t it work?
“Hello?” It’s Dustin, and Will is momentarily stunned. The only thing that can be heard on the other line is his shaky breathing. “Is anyone there?”
“Dustin,” he breathed out, light-headed after having spoken.
“Will, is that you? Hey, what’s wrong, is everything okay?” Dustin spoke, precautioned. He tried to pry the problem from Will’s mouth, but he wouldn’t disclose the issue. “Will, what’s wrong?”
And Will tried to get the words out, but his shaky inhales beat down every attempt at communication, and he was left choking on the trial of conveying his emotions. The sobbing exacerbated, and he bowed into himself as he tried to breathe naturally.
Dustin thought of what to do worriedly, and he decided to attempt a different method. So he spoke. He retold stories that held no real significance, laughing at some of them, and shuddering at others. He spoke of Suzie, of how great she was, and how Will would love her. Slowly, but surely, Will’s breath evened out, and he even laughed at some of Dustin’s narratives.
And, Will eventually told his friend about his nuisances, “I can feel him. He’s with me everywhere I go- I think he’s planning something.”
Dustin had been there every step of the way. Whenever the Mind Flayer would attack his senses, leaving him on edge and struggling to grasp reality, he would call Dustin. Sometimes the other would come over and they would read comics together, like today. Will called him nearly an hour ago, after a particularly bad panic attack.
“Which comic should we read? This one, or this?” Dustin asked, holding up two comics Will had never read before. He pointed at whatever looked more interesting; from there, Dustin would make a dramatic narrative of the comic. However, things got somber today as a sensitive conversation was brought up.
“Will…I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more. It was always Will and Mike, so I guess I kind of let our friendship slip. But you’re my best friend too, and I should’ve reached out more.” Dustin looked away in guilt, and Will reached out to place a hand on his shoulder in comfort.
Will could see the sincerity on Dustin’s face, the way his expression was drenched in regret. “It’s alright, Dustin. I shouldn’t have abandoned you after you came back from camp, so we’re both in the wrong.” And Dustin looked ready to argue for Will's sake, but they simply shared a small smile before he declared this topic too melancholy to maintain, and they returned to the comic they were reading.
(The Mind Flayer still persisted, and the feeling never went away. But moments like these made it endurable, at least.)
Lucas had joined them one time, sharing a conversation with Will that touched a painful nerve. “Will, about that campaign…” He started, because it’s been eating him alive, and he needed to talk to Will about it. Dustin sat silently, feigning ignorance while his nose was buried in a comic, and eavesdropping on the conversation.
“It’s fine, Lucas. You don’t need to bring it up.” He tried to ignore the pit in his stomach, shooting down the memories of Mike and Lucas belittling the campaign that he spent days working on. It wasn’t a big deal, he was over it.
“No, Will. It wasn’t fine, we completely shit all over your campaign! Who knows how long you spent on it, and we cheated out of playing like assholes. Well, I wanna finish it. Properly. Do you have it with you?”
Pathetically, Will did have it. He kept it even when he wanted to rip it into a million pieces and never play DnD again. He nodded in affirmative, not trusting his voice not to break down. Dustin looked over at the two, nodding toward Will.
(And they did finish the campaign. Ten hours later, eyes burning in exhaustion and limbs fatigued. Will’s smile lit up the room.)
__
Will had never been especially close to El or Max. He always considered Eleven to be ‘the girl with superpowers who saved them a multitude of times. As well as Mike’s girlfriend’. While Max was always ‘Lucas’s girlfriend’. And he regrets only regarding them to be as such because they are amazing friends. He discovers that shortly after the Party begins assisting him with his avoidance of food.
The day started…a tad worse than others. The moment he woke, fatigue had already sunk in his bones, and his stomach ached with food, but the idea of eating left him nauseated. So he didn’t move from the bed. Not when Jonathan and his mom went to work and left with a goodbye and breakfast on the table. Not when his walkie projected worried comments from his friends into the room. Today wasn’t an adequate day, and he couldn’t jeopardize forcing it into a more destructive state, so he remained in bed.
Until the doorbell rang. And he prayed whoever it was would assume no one was home and depart. But the ringing persisted, and Will’s irritation with it. He regretted leaving the comfort of his bed and opening the door, the people on the other side were at the bottom of his expectations. “El, Max?” He said their names in a moment of stupor.
“Hey Will,” El smiled at him, while Max walked into his house dragging El along with her.
Will followed after a moment, “What- What are you guys doing here?” he questioned once Max and El made it to the kitchen and caught sight of his untouched meal. It was as if their suspicions were answered, and they turned to face him.
“We’re taking you to the mall,” Max answered. She was clearly not going to take no for an answer, despite Will’s interjections about the idea. “Come on, Byers, get ready.”
This is why Will discovers himself at the mall, with Max, which wouldn’t be a shock considering he’s been to the mall with her before. But solely when the rest of the party (excluding El, with her strict rules) was with them. El was a surprise in itself, but going with both of them, without the other party members, was a possibility that had never crossed his mind. Primarily because they had never made a move to befriend him, and in turn, neither had he.
(Something twists in his stomach. Whether it was the lack of food that morning, or the thought that Max and El are only now trying out of sympathy, he wasn’t sure.)
Despite how the day began, he actually enjoyed the time spent with them. He didn’t contribute much to the conversation, but it still felt as though he was included; like he was wanted. The day so far had no disturbances, at least until it came time that they made it to the food court. And all over again, Will was drowned with dread, hands shaking for no apparent reason. Warmth enveloped both his hands, and he found Max and El’s hands holding his, in an attempt to soothe his worries.
They sat at the far end of the food court, Max and El having gotten the food they wanted. Will couldn’t find anything that he would…enjoy (anything he wouldn’t throw up at the sight of). However, Max would give bits and pieces of her meal to Will that he could bear eating, and El would do the same. They left the mall with bags in their hands and smiles on their faces.
(This was only one good day in much worse to come, a voice whispered in his head. Soon they would realize how defected he is. He isn’t worth their time.
And he knows that. But he chooses to ignore it, for as long as possible.)
__
The bad days surged in faster than Will would’ve favored. Then again, nothing ever proceeds the course he wishes it would. No matter what, he couldn’t help emptying his stomach after every meal, ceasing calling Dustin after triggering flashbacks, and ignoring his friend's uneasy voices, whether from the walkie or outside his door. Shame flowed through him; he believed he was improving. He was finally feeling okay again, but everything was ruined for reasons unrevealed to even him.
So he distanced himself, sealed himself in his room, and tried to shut everything out. But he found himself missing the little actions his friends carved just for him. Dustin never skipped an opportunity to spend time with Will. Lucas seized every possibility to simply listen to Will and be there for him. Max and Eleven had shopping trips with him regularly, and the sleepovers of just the three of them were some of Will’s favorite memories. And, of course, Mike, who was with Will during his good times, and impaired times, endeavored to understand and aid him.
With his walkie in his hand, he takes a deep breath and speaks. “Guys…?” The response is almost immediate.
“Will, is that you? Shit, you scared us. Are you okay? What happened?” Mike breathed, and the others joined in, no one bothering to say ‘over’ and everyone talking over each other. However, when Will was finally able to speak, he asked if they could all come over to his house.
One by one, all of them made it to the Byer’s household. Will held them all tight, basking in the comfort that was his friends. The words rolled off of his tongue when they were all situated. The dark thoughts that encircled his mind, dragged him into the abyss of gloaming that he could never seem to escape. He mentioned the relapse he had, as well as the feeling of the Mind Flayer.
“Will, you can’t seriously think we’d leave you. We’ve been through hell together, you’re our best friend. We’ll stick by your side, no matter what.”
“Plus, how can we possibly hope to survive around Mike without you there? You’re the only one that can knock some sense into that thick skull of his.” Dustin joked, to which Mike responded with an offended “Hey!”
Will laughed brightly, and even though he knew things weren’t perfect, his friends would forever stay that persistent shine in his life.