Chapter Text
The blaring slam of the Wheelers' front door startled Mike out of a light doze that made his eyes dart across the room as the loud noise woke him.
He knew it was Will. He prayed he wouldn't have to face him, yet felt a sense of emptiness when he did not hear his footsteps treading up the stairs to join Mike in his room.
Obviously, he wouldn’t come upstairs. If he were Will, he wouldn’t be on speaking terms with Mike either.
Mike threw his fuzzy blue blanket back over his head. He knew he would miss dinner, but that seemed almost worth it if it meant he wouldn't have to face Will.
…
When Mike woke from the long rest, the sun wasn’t too harsh yet. He leaned over to check his rounded square bedside clock, which read 7:51 A.M.
Mike fell back on his pillow with a sigh. It was too early to be awake.
Especially during summer, especially when he wishes he could sleep forever as long as it meant not having to manage with whatever feelings he continues to keep pushing away.
Whatever time it was, he needed to get out of the house. He leaned back towards the edge of his bedside table to reach for his walkie-talkie.
“Hey, El, you awake? Over,” A couple moments of soft static, then
“Yeah, I’m about to start training. What is up?”
The easy-going sound of her voice instantly calmed Mike. At least he has this one constant in his life.
“Do you wanna meet today? Over,”
“Yeah, sure, how about in an hour?”
“Sounds good, Over and out,”
…
Will woke with a stopped-up and sniffly nose, presumably from the cold of the basement. He felt fullness in his face.
He still felt drowsy, even considering that the hangover was long gone. He slowly maneuvered to sit up on the old plaid couch.
As Will finally stood, his stomach dropped hard. Something was wrong, really wrong.
Will tried to run to the bathroom, but the sudden tiredness that was throbbing in his legs turned it into an awkward half trudge, half limp.
Will just barely got the lid of the toilet open as he fell to his knees and threw up whatever contents had been curdling in his stomach for the past who knows how many hours.
His whole body clenched as the rancid sludge-- which tasted slightly of marshmallows-- burned his sore throat as more and more forced itself up.
After what seemed like forever, Will was left sitting on the glossy tiled bathroom floor, hair drenched with sweat to match the clammy sheen on his pale skin.
His muscles ached and shivered as he slowly, very slowly, made his way to his feet.
He steadied himself on the bathroom counter before starting to make his way back to the couch.
He balanced himself on the wooden walls as he walked before collapsing back onto the chilly basement sofa.
Will knew he was far too sick to move again, but all of the adults in the house were stuck at work, and he’d rather die down here than call for Mike.
So Will would lie there, with glazed eyes, until eventually a sick, muffled sleep consumed him.
…
The muggy entrance of the trail into the woods sounded of cicadas and various other bugs and birds. The hot, humid summer air made Mike's skin feel sticky as he hopped off his bike and began to walk it along the trail.
The summer bugs were so loud, yet his thoughts seemed to be louder. They were so loud he could barely focus, yet he still couldn't make out what they were saying.
They were overlapping and frantic, so while they seemed to be the only thing Mike could hear, he really couldn't hear them at all. And if you can't understand your own brain, you might as well just ignore it, so that's what he did.
Today, he will talk with El, they will laugh and tell stories, and talk about everything except the only thing truly on Mike's mind. They'll talk about everything but Will.
Mike's mindless overthinking is interrupted as he enters the clearing.
“Hi, Mike!!” El shouts excitedly from the opposite trail entrance. Mike dropped his bike to run and meet El.
They share a tight hug, and they pause to look at each other as they pull back. A kiss crosses Mike's mind, but it doesn't feel right for either of them.
They sat on the grassy forest floor while Mike listened to El talk about her progress with her training.
“Yeah, now I can use my powers to boost myself into the air. I did it to jump over a bus! It's basically like flying!” El boasted.
“Oh, for real? like Superman?!” El let out a slight giggle at Mike's enthusiasm. Her face suddenly turned serious as she turned to face her boyfriend.
“Mike…” She started. He turned to look at her, too. El continues hesitantly,
“Have you ever dated anyone else?” Mike was taken aback by the sudden, seemingly random question.
“Uhhh, no, not really, I mean we've been together since we were like 13-”
“12”
“What?”
“We were 12 when you first kissed me, at the middle school, remember?”
“Oh yeah, right of course,” Mike swallowed while rubbing his hands together.
“So- I mean- why do you bring it up?”
El thought for a while before speaking,
“I love you a lot, Mike… but… I don't think I love you like that. I don't think I love you like we've been pretending like we love each other for so long. And… It's nothing you did, but I have had so much alone time to think, to think about everything, and I realized that… I dont…know myself.”
Mike swallows, unsure, and focuses on El’s mouth as she speaks.
I don't have hobbies or interests. You and the rest of the party have fun with DnD, comics, and movies- but all I ever seem to do is wake up, train, and go back to bed. When I'm with you, I feel interesting, but I realized I am not interesting. I'm just… an extension of you,”
El stared up at Mike as she began to tear up. Mike slowly wrapped his arms around El to offer comfort as the tears welling up in her eyes began to fall. Mike was still shocked to his core, but what more could he do?
He tried and failed to speak a couple of times before managing to force out the words,
“El… I'm so sorry I made you feel that way. I totally understand if you need space-”
“No, Mike. I cannot be with you. And I don't think you can be with me either. And I also think you know that.”
Those last words hit Mike hard. He hadn't really been with El in years. Not emotionally, and he does know it. Mike can never treat her the way she deserves.
The fact that he even kissed another person was self-torturing enough, but it should’ve weighed on him more how everything else he’s done could affect El. He loves El, but maybe it was never in the same way he had imagined before.
He was drunk at the time, but there were no words he could say about the kiss at that moment that wouldn’t hurt the situation. It was never a question of who Mike truly wants in life; it was always a question of what he needs.
El starts again, she says through sobs,
“But you mean so much to me, and I never want to lose you as a friend… I love you, Mike.”
“I love you too, El.”
El starts to giggle through her tears before joking,
“Wow, now you can say it.”
Mike starts to laugh, too. They stay there for a while, crying, laughing on the same forest floor. But now they see it with a newfound light.
…
Around 1:00 P.M., Mike said goodbye to El with a hug, a real hug this time, with a strange sense of clarity. They parted ways, leaving on separate trails.
As Mike walked with his bike back towards where he entered the woods, his mind felt clearer. There is still an obvious hurt from getting dumped… again.
And he is still thinking about Will, but now all he wants is to talk to Will.
He wanted to apologize; he wanted to see him. He just wants to make everything better. Mike doesn't expect Will to forgive him, especially immediately, the day after. But he just wants Will to feel better. He never wants to make Will feel like that again, so he will do whatever he can for as long as it takes to gain Will's forgiveness.
Eventually, Mike makes it to the road and bikes the rest of the way home.
…
Mike drops his bike off by the garage door and makes his way to the front door. He walks in shouting,
“Anybody home?!”
He knew nobody was home except Will, but he felt the need to make himself known. He dropped his backpack off at the front door as he gathered the courage to find the basement door.
Mike hesitantly pulled the door back with a creak and slowly started to walk down the steps. He was nervous, and all he wanted to do was apologize, so before even making it to the bottom of the steps, he started,
“Hey, Will. I know you probably don't want to talk to me right now, but I can't just ignore you forever, and I would never want to do that anyway-”
He makes it to the basement floor. He starts to walk towards the mini living room,
“And I really hate myself for being such a jerk to you, ya know. And if I could go back, not just to yesterday, but to anytime I've ever made you feel shitty, I would never ever hurt y- OH SHIT! WILL!!”
Just as Mike turned the corner, he saw Will lying unconscious and sickly pale on the plaid couch.
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” Mike ran and bent over Will beside the couch. He grabbed his face and shook his shoulder to try and wake him.
Will's eyes lightly fluttered open, looking slightly startled.
“..Mike…? What's happening??”
“Dude, what happened to you?! You're all pale and sweaty, you look like a
corpse!” Mike reached out the back of his hand to touch Will's forehead,
“Holy shit, you're burning up too!” Will's eyes got wide, looking more troubled than before as his limbs visibly locked up. Mike hadn't realized how loud he was.
Both of his hands immediately reached for one of Wills. As his voice lowered to a soft, almost whisper, he started rubbing small circles on the back of Will's hand.
“Shit, dude, I'm sorry, what happened?”
Will was visibly embarrassed by the sudden ‘Hand Holding,’ yet he seems to get over it fast and clutches Mike's hand back, and starts. When he tries to talk, his throat burns, but he forces it out.
“Mike… I- I don't know, I think I caught something.” He pushed out between coughs.
Mike cracked a smile, though worry still plagued his face.
“Yeah, well, no shit.” He still kept his voice low. Will let a small smirk cross his lips.
The moment passed, and Mike had slowly let go of Will's hand, making eye contact as if asking for permission. After another couple of seconds of silence passes, Mike finally speaks,
“S-so whatever you have, you can't sleep down here, it's way too cold.”
Will looks down at him, the joy of the moments prior instantly slips away as Will remembers why he was down here in the first place.
His face falls at the thought as he pulls his hand back towards himself, the same hand that had just felt the comforting yet firm grasp of his best friend.
Mike noticed the sudden withdrawal and seemed to realize the reason for the change in tone. He averts his eyes, pretending like the carpet is the most interesting thing he's seen in years.
Mike finally sat down on the coffee table across from Will as he picked at the skin around his middle finger. He kept his eyes down, focusing on the loose hangnail.
It wasn't until he finally spoke that he looked up to meet Will's gaze. He swallowed,
“Look, will I… I'm just so sorry. I never even meant to hurt you, Will. You mean so much to me, and I hated myself all day for making you feel that way. You don't deserve to be treated like that, and I really don't deserve you. I don't expect you to forgive me, especially right away, but I just can't bear to avoid you for even a second. So please, even if you don't forgive me, just let me help you while you're sick, because I know you can't do it on your own.”
Mike's eyes began to well with tears, which were quickly wiped away by his forearm. Will looked at him for maybe 30 seconds before speaking.
“Fine. But only because I can barely move,” Will hissed sarcastically as he tried to make it to his feet.
The second he stood up, his head got dizzy, and his legs began to shake. He falls back to sitting on the middle couch cushion as Mike cuts in, still slightly misty-eyed,
“And you gotta let me at least help you up the stairs.”
“Fine… but that means I get your bed.”
“Of course,” Mike replied as a stupidly big smile spread across his face.
Mike gently grabbed Will's arm to help him to his feet.
“So what do you think I have?” Will asked, voice sounding scratchy and dry. Mike turned to look at him, face still plagued with worry,
“I don't know, dude, but you sound awful.” The two continued across the basement until they got to the steps.
The long flight of old wooden planks came across as tedious, with each step feeling like Will's own legs wanted to kill him. They arrived in the kitchen, where Mike led Will to sit at the dining table before asking,
“Do you want something to eat?”
“I don't know if I'll be able to keep it down.”
“Well, I'll grab a barf bowl before heading up to my room, but you gotta eat something.”
Mike opened the pantry and began sifting through snacks and ingredients until he eventually found a can of Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup.
“Aha! I knew we had some left from the last time Holly was sick.”
Will watched in silence as Mike meandered from one end of the kitchen to the other, grabbing a pot and turning on the stove.
“I just have to heat it, right?” Mike asked cluelessly
“Yeah. What, have you never cooked soup before?”
Mike threw Will a sarcastic glare and poured the contents of the can into the heated pot. As the soup warmed, the smell of chicken broth filled the room. The scent made Will's stomach churn, but he had nothing else left to barf up, so he held back his gags. Mike finished the soup, dumping it into a bowl. He set it in front of Will,
“Tada!!”
Will stared at what was supposedly the chicken noodle soup from before, but now looked unrecognizable.
“Mike… why does it look like that??” The soup was brown, goopy, with unidentified clumps of black. Will's nose turned up.
“It did NOT look like that coming out of the can.”
Mike frowned; he was clearly proud of his work.
“What do you mean? All I had to do was heat it up??”
“Yeah, exactly, how did you manage to mess that up??”
“I don't know!... Geez, you don't have to eat it if you don't want to.”
Will made eye contact with Mike as a feeling of pity came over him about Mike's god awful cooking skills.
“Nah, you know what, I'll try it.”
Will picked up the spoon and dipped it into the thick, clumpy substance. He closed his eyes as he brought the spoon to his lips; the smell was even worse than before, but he couldn't turn back now.
As soon as the ‘soup’ touched his tongue, it was over; if his stomach wasn't empty, he would have thrown up whatever remained right then and there.
He managed to get the one spoonful down as his eyes started to well with tears and he held back gags.
“...Oh my god. Mike. I mean this in the best way possible, but please don't ever cook again.”
“Wow, was it that bad?”
“Dude, it was worse than that bad.”
Mike started to laugh as he reached for the bowl and spoon in front of Will.
“Okay, I'll just ask my mom to make you something when she gets home, just please don't start dry heaving.”
Will started to chuckle too,
“I'll do whatever you want as long as you don't make me eat that again.”
Mike rinses the bowl and leaves it on the drying rack,
“Ok, let's get you back up to my room then.”
Mike met Will back at the dining table and helped him to his feet. They moved at the pace Will's aching body would allow to the stairs up to the 2nd floor in silence, Mike's eyes never leaving Will.
“You know I'm not gonna break right?” Will breaks the silence, refusing to meet Mike's gaze.
“What?”
“I mean, you don't have to be so worried. I probably just have the flu or something.”
Mike looked to the ground, focusing on his steps,
“Well, when I saw you down in the basement on that couch, you looked really messed up… and- I don't know, I guess it scared me. And I-I was scared I wouldn't get the chance to apologize to you.”
He glanced back up to look at Will, who was already staring back at him. There was silence for a few seconds before they both averted their gaze to the floor. They made it to Mike's bedroom, and he helped Will sit on his bed. Mike sat on the sleeping bag below him on the floor.
“Thank you… for apologizing,” Will rubbed his hands together, still not looking at Mike.
“Dude, don't thank me for anything. I was being awful to you, and you don't deserve that, ever. Apologizing was the least I could do.”
Though the fight and apology were through, something heavy still hangs in the air. Something that Will was far too exhausted to bring up now.
Will scooted himself into a lying position, turned over, and pulled the blanket over his shoulder,
“Goodnight, Mike.”
Mike sensed the unresolved tension but knew Will needed rest,
“Goodnight, Will.”
Though it was only 2:58 P.M., Will drifted into a stuffy, feverish sleep.