Chapter Text
Will Byers was confessing to him.
Will Byers was confessing to him.
Will fucking Byers was confessing to him.
Mike Wheeler.
Will literally-fucking-perfect Byers just said he loves Mike frogfaced-loser-asshole Wheeler.
Holy shit, was this real life? Will Byers, sweet, kind and hot Will Byers likes him. Will Byers, his best friend since forever. Will Byers, who could have anyone he wanted. Will Byers, the boy who he'd been pinning over for years now (even if he had been an oblivious idiot who hadn’t known that.) William Byers, who loves him. Mike is so giddy right now, he’d been agonizing over how to bring up the topic of the painting for a while. Worrying over how the confrontation might be another breaking point in their–Mike really wishes it wasn’t–fragile friendship seems silly now. Because if this was the outcome? Well, maybe he should’ve discussed it with Will earlier.
Mike’s still a little stuck on the fact that Will Byers loves him. He’d said that, those words came straight (ironically) out of Will’s own mouth. Mike is not freaking out–he’s not , okay?
He shakes himself out of his stupor when he realizes that he hasn’t spoken in a while, and that he probably should before–wait. Mike watches as a small stain appears on the floor, with that comes a sinking realization.
Is Will… crying?
Oh no. Oh no no no no no. That’s not supposed to happen, fuck, of course, he’d screw up even here. Mike’s panicking now, and he doesn’t know what to do. The words he’d wanted to say get stuck in his throat, rendering him unable to console Will. In a frantic last-ditch effort to convey himself to Will, he plants a hand right on Will’s face. Gently, of course. He hears Will’s breathing stutter a bit when his thumb swipes under Will’s eye, so he continues softly stroking Will’s cheek as he shakily breathes in. Hoping that the air would magically make him more coherent somehow. It doesn’t. Gathering every ounce of courage in his body, Mike starts speaking, desperately hoping his voice isn’t as shaky as he feels.
“Will I-I love you too. I know that maybe I’m not very good at showing it, but I do. I love you so much it hurts and, okay, wow. ”
Will looks up, Mike holds his gaze with a tender smile.
He brushes aside the sense that something doesn’t feel quite right.
“Saying that feels so easy, because, I haven’t told you everything either. I may have also used El as a mask for my own feelings, which was so so unfair to her, it’s a big part of why we broke up actually. When I said that ‘my life began the day I found her in the woods, I didn’t mean it like that at all. Actually, thinking about it now–holy shit–I did not mean for it to come out like that, no I would never. Oh my god, I’m so sorry Will, what I meant was that it felt like my life was starting again. I thought she was you. When you went missing I fell apart, Will. Everything went fuzzy, like there was this weight clawing at me, entwined around my arms and keeping me down. Anchored to the ground. When I said I love you to El, I was thinking about you, it was always you. I couldn’t say it to El at all before then, except for that time in the cabin, and I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t just…spit it out. I know now though, I sorted it out with myself a while ago, but I was so scared. I was absolutely terrified, Will, and I ran. I ran away from what made me scared–my feelings for you–that’s why I didn’t send letters. Even if I wrote them, they always ended with ‘Love Mike’, the phrase that forever eluded me when I was writing to El. I thought it might’ve been easier to put it behind me if I didn’t reach out at all. It didn’t work.”
Mike laughs a little at himself.
“I called every day you know, but I was always met with the dial tone, maybe you just didn’t want to talk to me. I’d get that, who would? You keep telling me I wasn’t a shitty friend, but I was, despite my attempts at being good. Good enough to deserve you, not that anyone would ever be good enough. You were unattainable, it seemed as if you wouldn’t ever love me. Too outrageous an idea for me to even entertain. I was so confused about why you cared about my lack of contact when we fought, I’m still sorry about that by the way. I shouldn’t have said any of it, the same goes for last summer–that was even worse.”
Making a noise of displeasure, he huffs out a frustrated sigh.
“Shit, I’m so bad at this, you’d think I’d be better since I’ve been apologizing so much lately, but I’m still crap at talking. Okay, whatever, the main thing is that I love you. I’ve loved you for longer than I’ve known what love is. I might’ve started loving you when you said yes, do you remember that?”
Will nods, then raises his hands to cup Mike’s face. Thumbs rub at Mike’s cheeks, alerting him to a wetness not present there before. It feels strange, crying while smiling so hard it feels like his face could split open.
Mike goes to speak again, opening his mouth only to get cut off by Will’s hands gripping his face harshly.
“Will? What’s wrong? Did I do something–”
A faint giggling causes Mike’s words to die on his tongue. The laughter sounds…menacing, grating in a way unlike Will’s usual smooth rasp. The sound chills Mike, something is wrong. Something is so very wrong. Then Will looks up again, and Mike can’t help the wounded noise that escapes him. Will’s eyes. The once opulent hazel-green eyes (which, pause, because he’s a little lovesick fool that still thinks this is a good time to point out that Will’s eyes are entirely not as boring as “hazel-green” but that’s seriously besides the point right now ) are now a deep onyx, and the more he thinks of it, they’d been that colour for a while. In his frenzy to reciprocate, the nervous darting of his eyes had allowed the detail to go unnoticed till now.
The frantic beating of his heart doubles as he feels Will’s hands tighten, squeezing at Mike’s head. Pressure builds up, and Mike thinks his head might explode if this keeps up. The attempts to grab Will’s wrists and pry his hands off fail. Mike’s limp noodle arms unable to get Will’s newly acquired ones to budge. (Newly acquired muscular arms, his brain unhelpfully adds.) Somehow though, Mike’s feeble scrabbling works and he catches Will’s wrists in his hands, gripping them hard to the best of his ability.
“Will? Will? Can you hear me? It’s Mike, are you okay? Is it Vecna? If you can’t speak again, tap once for yes, twice for no.”
Mike’s blood pressure skyrockets as he tries to keep calm. Will needs him right now, he cannot let his fear overwhelm him.
Then Will hits him.
It happens so fast Mike doesn’t even feel the ache until he’s on the ground, knocked flat on his back. That’s when he knows Will isn’t in there anymore, so as soon as he’s able to, he runs. Staying back and fighting would’ve been a terrible choice, Mike can’t throw a punch for shit.
He also can’t bring himself to hurt Will no matter who’s currently in his body. It’s Will, okay?
Wheezing and operating on adrenaline, Mike runs through the back door of the basement.
Straight into his bike.
He’s sent tumbling onto the grass, cursing his previous laziness. Mike gets up quickly and whirls around to find Will walking threateningly towards him, steps seemingly shaking the house. Stumbling back, Mike finally breaks out into a sprint, scrambling over the fence before darting towards the nearest house–Lucas’. He bangs on the door once he reaches it, nearly pounding it down with the amount of force he uses. It opens, Mike tries to shove inside but he’s stopped by Lucas. Mike looks at him, confused, then Lucas opens his mouth.
“Get out.”
“What?” Mike asks, voice small and unsure.
“I said get out, I don’t want to see you. Max is in a coma because of you, you saw what was happening, you noticed the symptoms but didn’t tell any of us. You didn’t care about Max, you never did. All you would do was fight with her when she was down, what is wrong with you? And now you want to come barging into my house? Yeah no, that’s not happening. Now, go away. I don’t want to see you Mike.”
Lucas finishes in the most dead voice Mike has ever heard from him before shutting the door. Right in Mike’s face. He’s stunned and scared and guilty. His heart is racing as he starts pounding on Lucas’ door again. Shouting whatever comes to mind.
“Please, Lucas! I’m sorry for what I did, I know it’s hard but I just need you to listen to me for 2 seconds. This is a code red. Please! Lucas!”
Mike hears Will making his way up the driveway, indicated by the light scuffling behind him. There’s no answer from Lucas either so he turns around, preparing to run to his next destination.
Mike looks up to find Ted staring at him, the man stands in the driveway of Lucas’ house, just a bit back from where Mike is. It’s surreal, Mike rubs his eyes a few times to check if he’s seeing things. Ted is still there and Will is nowhere in sight, Mike gets exactly 2 seconds to feel relieved before shit hits the fan. His dad starts screaming at him, talking with an animation that Mike hasn’t seen from him in like, ever. His speech is fast, to the point that Mike can barely make out the words. There’s a jarring pull, then Mike is right in front of him, and the words start making sense. The vitriol that he speaks with isn’t why Mike reels back though, it’s what his dad is talking about; his confession. Apparently, Mike hadn’t been careful enough and now his homophobic dad had heard everything. Every little sappy, ugly, detail. Mike’s stomach drops.
A sudden clench of his shoulders brings him back to the sickening bellows of his father. Each word slamming into his chest, ripping at his heart.
(“–you disgusting queer. I knew that I shouldn’t have let you hang around that Byers boy, now both of you are infected. God forbid your mother hears about this, she won’t be able to take it. You’re not our son, a disgrace is what you are. You’re doing horrible in school, your attitude is downright embarrassing and you can’t even clean your room. The very least you could have done for us is not to turn out to be some fairy in a ditch! We shouldn’t have even let you grow your hair out, should’ve known it’d make you all girly. Is that what you are Micheal? A girl? Pussying out like a goddamned girl? Your mother and I gave you freedom and this is how you repay us? How could you even–”)
Mike tunes out, resolutely focused on keeping the tears at bay. In his distress, he fails to notice just how strange all of this is. He doesn’t want to be here anymore, so he does what he always does. He runs, again. Ted’s venomous shouting follows as Mike’s feet carry him down the road. It’s only when he stumbles into the woods that Mike finally realizes that none of this makes sense, he’s at the quarry nowhere near where he was running towards. With him slowly making sense of things, the sky turns dark.
Oh.
Mike’s world stops. Right, the quarry. Something floats to shore, Mike doesn’t look at it, he won’t look at it.
It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real–
He looks at it. Stupidly, foolishly, he looks at it. He breaks.
It’s Will, because, of course it is. It’s Will and he’s grown, 16 years old instead of 12. Mike chokes on a sob, helplessly rooted in place. A physical force renders him powerless; trapped there. He stands and stares for what feels like an eternity, damned to yearn hopelessly for a life already snuffed out. It almost feels like a reality. Almost.
Except Mike knows what’s happening now, more aware of his surroundings and the dreamscape he’s currently trapped in.
Calm down.
Mike tells himself that as he sifts through the last couple hours.
His confession never got through to Will if memory serves him right. Will’s eyes started turning black the moment he looked back up.
Ted being here is impossible, his father had left with Karen and Holly as soon as they could.
Will is alive, the body currently floating in front of him is not Will. It is not.
He doesn’t know if he believes that but what else can he do?
None of it helps all that much but it’s something, and making sense of what was going on did calm down Mike some.
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Mike looks around again, taking care to avoid looking at… you know. Just as Mike feels safe enough to take a wobbly step forward, everything goes to shit. Again. The quarry disappears, leaving behind a completely red landscape. The terror barely sets in before he’s thrown into a pillar, the impact knocks the air out of him.
Then he sees it. Or more accurately, him – Vecna. Calling the mass of red flesh and vines advancing towards him a person seems generous though. Frankly, Vecna is terrifying, but the spider-like tentacles protruding out of… his back prompts Mike’s flight response to kick in. Mike’s body has only just left the pillar before he’s reeled back in, held down by newly grown vines circling around his ankles and wrists. The scarlet he sees around his middle reminds him of blood, so much so that he nearly throws up.
There’s no time to let his new predicament sink in though, there’s no time for anything like that at all anymore. Mike’s mind blanks, vision flashing black as a sudden force immediately bears down on his throat. Mike chokes and sputters, desperately gasping for air. The pathetic display seems to satisfy Vecna since he starts laughing. It’s a gravelly thing, a rough sound that rubs against Mike’s brain and grates at his ears. Mike glares as best he can as Vecna’s laughter dies down, feeling a sort of indignance at being laughed at. Mike guesses it wasn’t enough to just laugh at him, however, because the…the thing in front of him starts speaking.
“Micheal Wheeler…a pleasure to finally meet you. How sad that you won’t last much longer, it’s unfortunate that you won’t be missed.”
An impossibly low tone that clutches Mike’s chest in a squeeze–actually that might be the vine tightening around his chest–another squeeze, yep, vine around chest. It’s not to say the voice doesn’t still make Mike freeze with an oppressing sense of fear though, the fingers–claws? The claws in front of his face pulling his head up don’t help with that either. Oh right, did he mention that? Vecna’s fucking claws are all up in his space, forcing his neck to stretch and causing Mike to worry that his eyes might pop out of his skull. Vecna leans closer.
“You’ve been so scared, scared of dying, scared of your feelings, scared of yourself. You’re terrified that you’re the weak link, and you don’t want to be left behind. You don’t want others to see that you’re inept, you need them to trust you, believe that you know what you’re doing. When in reality? You’re nothing more than a dithering fool stumbling blindly in the dark, grasping at a facade of competency, and you know it.”
Mike whimpers, his attempts to protest and deny futile.
“Poor poor you, stuck in a contradictory existence. Despite being so scared of death, you yearn for it. You wish your little…jump when you were 12 had been successful, you wish you weren’t here anymore. Selfishly, you wish you weren’t alive. You want to leave this all behind, and you wish it’d been you instead of them. The countless others that were sacrificed because of you. It’s alright now though, I’ll help you fulfill your wish.”
The pressure on Mike’s head becomes unbearable, he’s completely unable to breathe now. He feels something burst–it might be his eye–and then he’s falling. Falling and falling just like that day in the quarry, except this time he hits the ground.
It’s the pain that Mike registers first, an excruciating ache throughout his whole body. Then he realizes he can’t see. Everything is dark and his eyes burn, it’s wet with something–maybe tears? It takes a while to feel that he’s being wrapped in someone's arms, and it takes even longer for him to hear their voice. It’s familiar, and he finds a feeble comfort amidst the sea of agony continually rolling through him. It feels like home, it feels like love, it feels like…
Will.
Oh. Right, yes. His groggy mind finally wakes up a little, he’s being held by Will right now, isn’t he? Mike nearly gets flustered by it until a particularly bad wave of hurt makes him gasp.
The person–Will, is immediately on him. Comforting and telling him that it’ll be alright. That it’s over now and that he’s safe. Mike wants to believe him so badly, but the drowsiness overtaking him says otherwise. It’s inevitable.
He is going to die.
He is going to die without ever telling his sisters how much he loves them. He is going to die without ever being there to comfort Dustin. He is going to die without ever seeing Max and Lucas happy again. He is going to die without ever being able to make it up to El.
Micheal Wheeler is going to die in William Byers’ arms with him never knowing just how much Mike loves him.
That couldn’t happen. No, Mike will not let that happen. Will Byers deserves to know that Mike loves him to the moon and back. Will Byers deserves to know that Mike would drop anything to come running to him. Will Byers deserves to know that Mike will stave off dying to tell him just that. And so he does.
Opening his mouth feels herculean, it takes all Mike has to finally speak the words lodged in his chest.
“W-Will…I-I”
Cut off by a whimper, Will tightens his hold.
“Mike no, stop, save your breath, it’s okay. It’s okay.”
The repeated phrase makes it sound more like Will is trying to convince himself than Mike, so he pushes on.
“N-No…I need t-to say t-this.”
Mike breathes in shakily.
“Will, I-I…I love y-you. I a-adore you…and I w-wish I had been a-able to sp-spend more time w-with you.”
“Mike no, what are you saying–” Mike feels Will move–probably shaking his head–jostling him. He lets out a small gasp of pain and Will instantly stills, apologizing.
“P-please, Will, I love you. I-I’m sorry…it hurts. I-I want, I want to s-see you…w-why is it s-so dark? Will, I-I-”
_______
It’s there on the unforgivingly hard, wood floor of his basement that Mike Wheeler dies. The place where it began, the place where a singular promise was made. This is where Will Byers falls apart for the last time. Fragmented pieces scatter as he screams. Raw, bloody, haunting shrieks ring throughout the house. A resounding tale of heartache, of the beginnings of a hollowed person.
There’s a barely audible sob as someone’s heart splinters one last time.