Chapter Text
"Just, don't help, when I didn't ask you, okay? And not like this." Will says, frustrated, and walks away, leaving his brother sitting on the couch, just as frustrated with him, in return.
They didn't argue, per say. Will and Jonathan rarely ever argue, not seriously. But, in Will's book, he can't exactly be blamed for his brother meddling in his personal life. Especially, if he does so by giving his threatening eyes to the boy that Will...
Wow, he's pathetic.
The boy that he's been in hopelessly in love with his entire life. Who painfully doesn't feel the same way, and who also happens to looks like he's lost all his spark.
Will almost exits the basement, but, as he stands at the bottom of the stairs, he locks eyes with Robin. She looks nervous, worrying the inside of her cheek with her teeth. He didn't miss the way she'd throw nervous glances at Nancy. No doubt, worried that her friend didn't take the news Robin told today too well. Of course, Robin's first thought was bigotry, when she saw Nancy's reaction. But Will, even if he's hopeless in situations that concern him, from the outside perspective, can see perfectly, what that reaction actually was. It was jealousy, bottled up and drowned out by denial. He gives Robin an encouraging nod, silently urging her to go and talk to Nancy, who's sitting alone, as Steve, having previously been talking to her, now stood up to get more beer, and stopped to chat with Jonathan on the way back, no doubt asking what the brotherly bickering was about. Robin still looks nervous, but does stand up and slowly step closer in Nancy's direction. Let her find out for herself, Will thinks smiling to himself. And then she can decide, once she has all the facts. He heard all about her new relationship, and the girl does sound wonderful, but, well, wouldn't it be wonderful, to be able to not only find someone to be open about the gay thing with, but about their collective trauma, too?
Yeah, let it work out for someone, at least, Will thinks bitterly.
He wonders, what will Mike think, once he finds out about his sister? Because he's pretty sure he read those looks right. Even if nothing happens between Robin and Nancy, he knows now that Nancy does like girls, on some level. He can't help wonder, how will his best friend's reaction be different, when it's about his sister.
Now that Will's seen him, he's worried. He'd love to curse his never ending empathy, he really would, but that will come later, once he's in New York again, away from Mike, with all the time and distance in the world to reflect on how wrong it is that he's looking for him now. But right now he can't help but worry for his best friend, even though the two of them barely fit the title anymore.
But Mike is hurting. It's obvious in the purple shadows under his eyes, in his sunken expression and stiff posture. He seems to be more nervous these days, as well, always fidgeting with the navy blue sleeves of his sweater, or taking off his glasses constantly to rub the lenses on those sleeves.
Will can't help but feel guilty. Even though Mike tried to hide it, someone who knows him as well as Will does, it was evident, how hollow his voice has sounded over the phone lately. He tries to keep a conversation going, engaging, asking Will questions about his life, even seeming genuinely interested, joking around. But Will knew.
And yet, he chose to act like he believed him. Like he believed the performance Mike was putting on. It was easy to pretend, back in New York, so far away from his old life, the one he shared with Mike. If Will is being completely honest, a part of him even thought that Mike deserved to not be cared about that much by Will anymore. Not that he deserved the way he's been feeling, no, never. In fact, Will knows for a fact that it's been caused by the remnants of the hell they've all been through, and Will himself knows he'd never be fully over it. So no, Mike didn't deserve it. Never. But, maybe, he did deserve a little bit to go through it without Will. A selfish part of Will thinks that he deserves to put himself first, for one, to stop using his own never ending feelings for Mike to help him, get him out of another hole he seems to have dug himself into.
Yeah, well, it's easy to think so when he doesn't have those lost and hollow brown eyes in front of him.
All his reservations go out the window, and he looks for him again, and waits for nothing in return.
It turns out, Mike didn't go to the bathroom. But Will does find him on the front porch, leaning against the railing. He closes the door behind him and comes up to stand next to him.
Of course, he is just as beautiful, even with his eyes sunken and without their spark, and his hair weirdly flat. That wasn't even a surprise, but it does make Will's breath catch just a little bit. He wants to draw his profile in this moment. But he'll have to do it later, from memory.
"Hey, mike." Will breathes out.
Mike takes a deep breath.
"Hey," he says looking with those hollow eyes ahead of himself.
Will sighs.
"Look, I’m sorry about Jonathan," he says. "Whatever he’s told you."
Mike glances at him.
"No, no," he shakes his head with a forced smile. "It’s okay,i get it."
Will knows all to well that it's not okay.
"He just gets like that sometimes." he offers. "You know. Protective."
Mike's face winces, barely noticeable. Will notices. He frowns, wondering, why.
"Yeah I know, I get it." Mike says. "I know, I deserve it."
Will tilts his head, confused. Since when does Mike talk about himself this way? He thought that was his own niche in their friendship.
"What?" he says. "No, you don’t deserve anything."
"I mean," Mike says, with a humorless chuckle. "I get why he doesn’t like me that much anymore." he looks Will in the eyes. "I’m sorry, by the way. About your breakup. It must suck."
Will only just now remember about that.
Right.
That's what he's supposed to be sad about.
That's why he's here.
Why can't he just truly be sad about stupid Carlton? It would make things so much easier, in a way. In so many ways.
"Yeah, it does." he says flatly.
Mike searches his face for a moment.
"Shit," he says. "Sorry, was I not supposed to know? Jonathan told me, I just assumed… but I guess you didn’t tell me for a reason, I’m sorry…"
Will chuckles, interrupting Mike's ramble. Why does this boy have to be so adorable, even when he's clearly depressed and awkward?
"No, Mike it’s fine." he says. "I didn’t try to keep it from you, or anything. That would’ve been weird." he chuckles again.
"Oh." Mike says simply.
He looks in the air in front of him, away from Will, seemingly lost in thought.
"How long’s it been, then?" he asks.
"Two weeks."
"I’m sorry." Mike looks at Will again. "How are you doing?"
And curse Will's stupid heart, after all, especially, since it's been established, that Mike is his heart years ago, because that bare minimum of a question is making him feel all warm inside. Basic interest in his life, basic friendly concern is making him melt, that's how far he's gone.
But, well, even if Will really was sad about Carter, he knows, once again, that he wouldn't get that understanding from Mike in this time where he needs it. Not in the way he needs it.
He offers Mike an easy smile.
"I’m fine." he says. "We weren’t together for that long, you know."
"Still sucks, though."
"Yeah." Will says, because he can't think of anything else to say. Even though he knows he's lying, and friends don't lie.
But he started lying to Mike long ago, and he still didn't tell him the full truth. Is it really lying, though, if you're lying to yourself first and then to a friend? Probably. But, it still stands that to this day Mike doesn't know that he was ever anything more than just a crush, a simple gay awakening. Not to mention, that he's not over that awakening to this day.
Mike seems to be lost in thought again, and, if Will still has any of his Mike-reading skills intact, the nature of those thoughts is self-deprecating.
"So," Will says in an attempt to distract him, even though, the topic he's about to propose is not really great for pulling his friend's head out of the overthinking swirl, but he's curious, sue him. "I’m here as my brother’s charity case, who’s just been dumped. Why is Nancy worried about you, then?"
Mike chuckles nervously, flatly.
"Oh, it’s. I don’t even know, to be honest." he says. "She just got it in her head that I’m a walking cry for help or whatever."
He says it like it's a joke, like it's something to be laughing about. But Will's only been in Mike's presence for a few hours, and he can safely say, he's never agreed with Nancy Wheeler more.
"Why?" he asks.
"I’m telling you, I don’t know." Mike says, still smiling.
Will just hums thoughtfully. He can't really force it out of Mike, if he's not willing to share, he knows as much from his years of dealing with his Wheeler antics.
He backtracks.
"Still at Radio Shack?" Will asks.
Mike nods, somewhat stiffly.
"Yeah."
"And how’s your writing going?" Will asks carefully, after a short pause.
Mike doesn't answer right away. He's staring into the space ahead of him once again. And once he does speak, it's not even a full sentence.
"It’s…" he tries, but trails off.
Will, however, having known the boy since they were four, even though he's evidently changed a lot, gathers, that he doesn't remember the last time he's sat at his typewriter. It makes something inside him ache. Mike is such a talented storyteller. It would really be a shame if the talent was lost to whatever Upside Down-related cloud has overtaken his best friend.
"Days just sort of mesh together," Mike says finally, not looking at Will, quietly, barely audible, but Will hears, he always does.
Now Will can no longer be bothered to hide his concern.
"Mike, how are you really doing?" he asks bluntly.
"Please don’t ask me that." Mike breathes out.
"Why not?"
"Because I can’t lie. Not to you."
He still won't look at him. Will's concern rises rapidly.
"And why would you lie?"
"Will…"
"Okay, now I agree with Nancy," he says it with a chuckle, but the concern is overwhelming. "I’m worried about you too, what’s going on?"
Mike takes a pause again.
"I’m…" he manages. "I don’t know."
Will's heart aches. Aches, because the boy he calls his heart is hurting this much. No matter the past, it's unbearable to see. He will regret caring this much later, once he gets a clear head. He knows he will. But right now, he can't help it.
"Mike…" he starts, but he's interrupted right away.
"No, please." Mike finally looks at him, eyes suddenly not hollow and empty, but filled with emotion. "I know what you’re about to do. And I don’t deserve it."
Again with the not deserving talk. Will wonders, what is up with that?
"What?" he asks.
"You’ll say something great." Mike says quietly. "Something really nice about me. Something about the way you see me," he stumbles over his words, and breathes out: "or, at least, used to see me. And it worked before, you know, when I was stuck, and you said all those things, and gave me the painting, and I got my head out of the gutter. But this time, knowing everything, especially knowing everything." he pauses and looks away again, his eyes shining in the porch light. "I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you Will." Mike finishes, barely audible.
"Bullshit." Will retorts simply right away.
"No, it’s not."
"Yes, it is."
"It’s not." Will smiles, despite himself.
"I say it is." Mike glances at him, smiling too, even though his eyes are still shining.
"I say it’s not." Will chuckles.
And then they both burst out laughing. And just like that, it's easy. It's simple, like it used to be. They are simple. They are just Will and Mike, two boys, two best friends. Not two barely adults unsure of the future and how they fit into it, and if their friendship will survive it.
They're still unsure. It doesn't fix anything. But it does seem to break the ice, or, rather, turn a stone wall that time has built between them into ice, and melting it with boiling water right away.
Once the laugh dies down, they both look into the space ahead of them, comfortable in the silence. After a few minutes pass like this, Will says:
"Look, Mike. I’m not telling you how I see you. I’m telling you that I know you. You’re my best friend, yeah?" he glances over at him, only to receive and eager nod in return. "I’ve known you since we were four. And I still know you enough to say that yes, you are stuck. And it might not be easy to get your head out of the gutter now. It might be harder than ever before. It might take longer. But I know that you still have it in you. Your spark." Will says it with a watery smile, earnest and raw, in a way he can't help being like this when it comes to Mike. "And you have people who care about you, who would help, if you’d only let them. Look at your sister, she dragged you to that weird special ritual she has with the two of her ex-boyfriends, for some reason." he chuckles.
"I know, right?" Mike chuckles back, and his eyes are overflowing, but he's smiling. Will can't help but be proud of himself for that.
"Right!' Will chuckles back. "But what I’m saying is, Mike, whatever is going on with you, I know, you still have it in you. That special you quality. That spark. What makes you the heart." he finishes quietly, but honestly.
For a second, it seems like he's finally gotten through to Mike. His face softens, and the way he looks at Will is very reminiscent of how he used to look at him, when they were kids, when it was easy for Will to believe him, when he said meeting him was the best thing he's ever done.
But then, something flashes across Mike's face, and he frowns.
Suddenly, there's a realization on his face.
Will thinks for a minute, confused, as to what could he have said wrong.
You're the heart, he'd just said.
Oh.
Oh.
Right.
"That’s what you were talking about then, isn’t it?" Mike asks, voice thick and quiet.
"What?" Will asks, even though he understand perfectly.
"The painting." Mike forces out, in wonder and pain. "You called me the heart."
"Oh." Will says. "Well, yeah."
There's no point denying it now. As long as it stays believable that it's all in the past. He feels his heartbeat pick the pace up.
"El didn’t commission it, did she?" Mike asks.
"She didn’t." Will admits.
"Oh."
"I’m sorry I lied to you." Will apologises at once. "I wanted to tell you the truth, I swear. But I chickened out at the end, and I didn’t know that would be the way I’d say it, until I was already in the middle of speaking."
His friends doesn't react. He seems lost in thought again, in a way that worries Will. Who knows, what guilt ridden thoughts about El plague his mind right now, made worse by the revelation about Will's lie.
He places his hand on his shoulder gently, cautiously.
"Mike?"
Mike suddenly breathes in. For a moment, Will thinks he might shake his hand away.
He doesn't.
"I’m so sorry, Will." he says, for some reason, looking at Will with those impossibly deep brown eyes. "I was a terrible friend to you."
Will thought it was unbearable to see Mike's eyes hollow and devoid of emotion before. It turns out, when they turn into over flowing pools of distress, it's not much better. Not to mention, if it goes with that statement.
"Hey, it’s okay, I’ve already forgiven you." Will says with a gentle smile. "I get it."
But what Mike says next, shocks Will even more.
"Why?" he breathes out desperately.
Will is confused.
"What?"
"Why did you forgive me? I don’t deserve it."
"You do."
"No, I don’t." Mike says, almost angrily. "I was self-centered, and obnoxious, and an asshole to you, just and insensitive obnoxious mouth breather. Looking back on it, all of it, you know, everything," Will cringes slightly at how he breathes the last part, obviously alluding to Will's feelings, his "crush" him, that he still can't speak normally about, apparently, not that Will can. It still hurts. "it was so obvious. I just didn’t see, until it was too late."
Will tries to be casual about it. He really needs to be.
"Yeah, well. You’re Mike." he says simply. "How could I not forgive you?"
"How could you forgive me?" Mike retorts, forcefully.
Will blinks.
"Are you mad at me for forgiving you?"
"No, I could never be mad at you." Mike shakes his head. "Not about this."
"Could’ve fooled me."
Will doesn't mean the way it slips out. Just a touch of resentment to the statement. Resentment he doesn't want to feel, not to mention show Mike. But it's too late now.
"I’m mad at myself." Mike whispers.
"Then, there’s no point in me being mad at you, is there?" Will says.
"I’d deserve it."
Will sighs. His patience is really being tested, it seems.
"Okay, maybe you would." he admits. "But what does it matter, if I’m not? Jesus, Mike it’s like you want me to be mad at you."
"You seem like you are."
Mike's voice sounds small. Will hates this. He hates that they can't just be normal friends about all of this. Well, that's what happens, when you don't have a proper conversation about big issues in a timely manner. It builds up, until it explodes all over you. He should've expected it, really. Doesn't mean it's not annoying.
"Yeah, well," he says bitterly. "Sorry, if I can’t exactly be over the moon about digging it all up all of a sudden, after I’ve gotten over it so many times already."
"I’m sorry."
Mike sounds utterly broken. Will doesn't care anymore.
Well, of course, he cares. He'll always care. He's pathetic like this.
But he can't stop himself now.
"Why were you like this, then?" he asks.
"Huh?"
"Come on Mike," Will sighs tiredly. "Don’t play dumb, not now. For years, I had no idea, what to make of you. You’ve been so, so confusing." Will is terrifued, but there's no turning back now, everything is going to slip out in this fit of word vomit, and he knows it. "One second you give me false hope, the next you make it clear you want nothing to do with me, for one reason or another, usually, all of them having to do with your girlfriend. Or, what, are you gonna deny that?" he asks bitterly, facing Mike.
His friend's eyes are as deep and brown and shiny as ever.
"I don’t…"
Will can't handle it, and he has to keep going. The dam is suddenly broken.
"That summer, when you got her back." he continues breathlessly. "I mean, I was happy for you, I really was." he chuckles darkly. "Even though I was slowly starting to realize everything, I didn’t want anything from you. And I feel like, I didn’t ask for much, you know? Just to have my best friend back, after the worst year of my life, that I’d just had. But there you were, leaving at every possible moment, ditching your friends for a girlfriends. I mean, even without taking everything," Will swallows, hating, hating, how hard it is, still, to call it what it is anywhere that isn't the inside of his mind. "My feelings, into account, you can admit, at least, now that it was a shitty thing to do, right?"
Will is whisper yelling now. His eyes feel hot, and he only just now realizes that tears threaten to spill out at any moment. Still, even after all these years he hates himself for it. Not just for crying so easily, but for how much it all still matters to him.
"Yeah." Mike chockes out.
"Okay, well good." Will manages, and braces himself before saying the next part, barely above a whisper. "And then you say that to me."
"What?" Mike frowns.
"You know what. In your garage, after that DnD campaign I tried to do."
Will watches realization dawn on Mike's face. He doesn't just look sad, or embarrassed, or ashamed. If Will were to be completely honest, he never thought Mike felt that much remorse for saying "It's not my fault you don't like girls" to him. But Mike isn't simply remorseful. He looks broken. Like Will broke him.
And it breaks Will, in turn.
"Shit." Mike breathes out. "Will, I’m so…"
"Sorry." Will interrupts. "I know. You said. Even then. Many times." he takes a deep breath, trying to compose himself, to force his voice to sound more even. "Even though it wasn’t exactly about that, was it?" he says, anger seeping back into his tone. "I said nothing about me not liking girls. God, Mike, second guessed myself so many times, you have no idea!" Will laughs humorlessly. "What if I had given it away somehow? What if I did or said something that made me obvious?" he looks Mike straight in the eye, forcing himself to look at his broken expression, no matter how much it hurts. "But I’ve thought about it, and I know for a fact I didn’t. I just." he chockes on his words again. "Wanted my friend back."
Mike opens his mouth, and it seems like he wants to say something, but he cannot find his voice. Probably, wants to utter another apology. But, in all honesty, all the possible apologies would be too late now. And not even just now. He did apologize, right after. But all of it was too late the moment words escaped Mike's mouth in the heat of the moment for the first time. Because, of course, they did sound countless times more, since then, replaying constantly in Will's mind, even after Vecna was gone, no longer tormenting him with his own subcontious.
It was too late then. It's too late now. The only way Mike could ever truly make it right would be to never say it in the first place. And they both know he can't do that.
The worst part is, Will knows, he knew it back then, he sees it now, in the broken line of his eyebrows and the depth of his eyes, how much Mike really does regret it. He did think, in his darkest moments, that Mike didn't. He knows how wrong he was now.
And it still doesn't make it okay. Nothing will make up for the way air had left Will's lungs the moment he heard the person he cared about the most throw his darkest, dirtiest secret back at him like he really thought he deserved to be despised forever for it. Even now, when Will knows there's nothing dirty or wrong about it, he looks at Mike's face, hears rain start to race down from the night sky, and he's back there. They're standing facing each other again, and they're both fourteen and nineteen, they're in Hawkins and in some town in Philladelphia, in front of an open garage door and on the front porch, all at the same time.
Only Will is older now. He's wiser. He's more confident. He's over it.
He's not.
He still doesn't know, though, why.
Taking a deep breath, Will speaks again, while Mike, it seems, is still unable to make a sound.
"And then, a year later," Will continues, voice choked up. "You can't even hug me at the airport. When the last interaction we had is hugging goodbye. And the next time I see you, with hardly any phone calls and no letters, mind you, for over a whole year, you act weird. You cannot say that wasn’t weird, Mike, come on. You wouldn’t even hug me. You wouldn't even look me in the eye. It was as if I might have just been an awkward guy from your class, or whatever, not a best friend you haven’t seen for a year. And then, you make me third wheel for your fucking date, a nice little flashback to that summer, and then get mad at me, for not jumping up and down with joy about that! You get so defensive too when I try to call you out, too. What was that about?
"And then, the painting. Mike, I’ve been crying when I gave it to you. And I get it, I’m too sensitive, it’s annoying, whatever. But you didn’t even notice. After saying you’d be my best friend. And when I did finally tell you, tell everyone, you can only be like “Sorry, I don’t want to be friends. I want to be best friends.” Who does that?" Will finds himself laughing. And it's not a good laugh. "Seriously, why? And after giving me more false hope with all that sorcerer bullshit."
"You were though." Mike says hoarsely, finally finding his voice, and for such a good cause, of course.
"Yeah, no shit," Will says dismissively. "Doesn’t exactly help me right now, Mike, does it?"
It really doesn't. His powers lay dormant, with no Vecna or hive mind to tap into. In a way, he's glad. But some deep, sick and twisted part of him misses the euphoria of finding it in him to be the sorcerer. To be able to help, save the people he loves. The euphoria of looking back into his childhood, and finding genuine, raw pride and self-love, that would become the source of his power.
Just like he can't help but hurt for Mike, even though he knows how much damage it does to him, Will can't help but miss that feeling, even though he remembers all too well the price he had to pay for it, the suffering he has to go through.
Why does his brain have to be so fucked up?
"I get it, Will." Mike says, his voice soudning a little bit stronger now, but just as hollow as before, if not more. "You’re mad. You should be."
Will blinks his angry tears away, and a realization dawns on him.
They're not talking about it to actually resolve anything. At least, that's not Mike's intention. It never has been. The answers Will has been wrecking his brain trying to desipher? He'll never get them. He'll never know the reason for Mike's weird behavior. He'll never know peace. Mike won't give it to him. Not now, not ever. And even if he did, the answer probably wouldn't satisfy him.
"That’s the thing, Mike." Will says. "I shouldn’t. I should be over all that. I shouldn’t care that much. I don’t, I don’t care, not anymore. But why do you need to dig it all up now, years later? What does it even matter now? It’s not like you’re gonna become any clearer. You won’t give me any explanation, even after I’ve just bluntly asked you all those questions. I’ve accepted it, I did. I’ve known it all along, even. You’re not like me. It’s fine. I just don’t get why are you still being so cruel."
"I’m not trying to be cruel, Will." Mike says, and tears finally spill over from his eyes, streaming down his cheeks. "I’m so sorry."
Will can't take it anymore. He knows it pointless. He still can't help pressing further.
"Then what the fuck is this about?"
More tears spill out of Mike's eyes.
"I can’t tell you."
"What?" Will breathes out, laughing humorlessly. "You cannot be serious right now."
"I am." Mike chockes out. "I can’t tell you."
"Why?" Will practically screams in his face.
"Because it’ll fuck everything up for you even more, okay?" Mike screams back, fully crying now. "And I can’t be the reason for that again, I just can’t."
He is sobbing now, but, for some reason, he wouldn't look away, making Will witness his best friends breaking down, seeing him crumble at Will's whim, no less. Just one more way to torture him, as if all the others werent enough.
Will crumbles too.
"Mike, what are you talking about?" he asks softly.
Mike just keeps crying.
"Mike? What is it?"
"I didn’t mean to be confusing." Mike chockes out through his sobs, digging the heel of his palm into his eye. "Or to lie. But I lied to everyone. Myself included. For so long."
There he is again. Giving false hope, that will never pay off. The familiar song and dance.
Will sings along every single damn time.
He dances along to it now, too, his breath hitching.
"Mike, what are you saying?"
Mike shakes his head. Will braces himself for yet another crashing wave of disappointment.
"I… I’m not…" Mike chockes out, for some reason.
Will's been through all this before. Hoping again. Soaring. Being shot down. He's ready, almost welcoming the familiar pain.
"I am like you, Will. I’ve always been."
The rain keeps dribbling down the roof of the porch. Somewhere in the distance a car signal rings out in the quiet night. Laughter and clinking of beer cans can be faintly heard from the basement. Life goes on. Reality feels pretty real.
Yet, Will has to be dreaming.
Air leaves his lungs.
His breath hitches.
His eyes burn, once more.
Will shakes his head, feeling tears streaks burn his face. He closes his eyes, unable to look at Mike.
"Mike, if it’s another one of those lines with double meanings, I swear to god…"
"It’s not."
Will is striken by how forcefully Mike says it. As if he means it. As if this is real, which it can't be.
"What…"
"I am like you." Mike says, determination in his broken voice. "I always have been. I just didn’t know until a few months ago, when I was left all alone like the asshole loser I am, and I had no choice but to face myself."
Will pries his eyes open, and finds that Mike's face matches his voice perfectly, broken and devastated, yet, determined, in no way indicating this is some kind of cruel joke. At this point, it would be less cruel for it to be a joke. And yet, Will feels hope bloom in his chest once more, a flower that tried to break through the stone so many times and reach into the light, only to be broken down time after time. To a point that it's wilted already, having just sprouted through a crack in the stone wall, but still alive.
"But what about El…" Will asks quietly.
He waits for Mike to deny everything he's just said. For him to take all the hope back, to break him down again. For the love of his life's name to bring back just how much he didn't mean all this.
Instead, he watches him take a deep breath.
"I loved her." Mike says solemnly. "I did. But not the way I was supposed to. Or not fully. I still don’t really know. It’s fucking confusing. But I know for sure it never quiet felt right. I know I cared about her. A lot. I still do. I still can’t get over the fact that she’s… gone. But, you know I could never even properly say I love you to her? Yeah!" he scoffs at himself. "What an idiot! She signed every letter with love, and even on paper, all I could do was a stupid “from Mike.” Even when she died…" tears well up in those brown eyes again, his voice trembles. "She said she loved me. I didn’t say it back. But, I feel like, she knew at that point. I don’t know how to explain it. But she knew. Even before I did. Fuck…" he digs the heels of his hands into his eyes, but, it seems, more tears seem to keep coming.
"Mike…"
"I’m so sorry, Will." Mike says. "I was an asshole. And it’s really unfair to spring all of this on you now. When you’re over it, you’ve had a whole relationship. You’re living your life, and you should really be proud of the person you’ve become." Mike gives him a small, sad smile, and Will can't help the way his stupid hearth flutters. "I know I am, even though it’s probably not really my place to be, not anymore. But, I am. And I really don’t want to ruin it for you." Mike takes a deep breath again, before whispering: "So, please, don’t make me say it."
Will breathes in. And out. He still feels like it's a dream. He's too scared to pinch himself.
"Mike. I need you to say it."
Mike doesn't look at him, his hands obscuring half of his face. He shakes his head.
"Please."
"Mike."
"I can’t."
"I need to hear it." Will whispers desperately. "I’ve been confused enough over you. I need to be sure."
Mike takes a deep breath. For a moment, Will is pretty sure he'll deny him. He'll walk away, back into the house, where they'll eventually sit in the basement again, pretending like nothing happened, and Will will just have to shrug brokenly at Jonathan's inevitable enquiring gaze.
But it doesn't happen. Mike stays glued to the spot.
And when he looks at Will, his eyes might as well be burning.
"I love you, Will."
Will forgets how to breath.
His hand cralws up to his forearm, and pinches it, not so subtly. He doesn't miss the way Mike watches him do it solemnly.
"And I’m sorry." Mike says. "I know you’re over me, and I was never more than just a crush anyway, and I have no right to dump that on you now." he breathes in again, whispering: "But I just didn’t know. I genuinely didn’t know."
Will looks at him for a second longer, looking for any clues in his face, anything at all that would indicate that this is all a joke, a lie, something, that would provide a logical explanation for this.
He finds nothing.
It's unbelieveable. Mike Wheeler. The boy he's been pining after his entire life. The one he resigned himself to pine after for the rest of it. Saying he loves him, at the frongt porch of Will's lesbian friend's Weird Uncle's house. You cannot make this up, if you tried.
Will's mouth falls open, and for a moment he's not sure, what kind of sound will come out.
And then he bursts out laughing.
He can't help it. He doesn't even know, what kind of laughter it is, hysterical, or genuine. But this is the form in which his utterly destructive shock comes out.
Mike's head hangs in defeat.
"You’re such an idiot." Will breathes out in between fits of laughter.
"I know."
His voice sounds hollow, and suddenly, for Will, it all clinks back into place. Mike, his gentle and kind friend, who always took care of him, looked at him with his eyes shining, spoke to him in that soft, soft voice. Mike, the friend who was a shell of himself after losing him, finding someone else, and losing her. Mike, who lost himself, trying to fit in, yet, rose again. Mike, his beautiful nerd, so passionate about the things that he loves, feeling the need to hide that in the midst of them being associated with satanism. Mike, who lost one of the most important people in his life, someone who never should've died, who deserved to live a happy life. Mike, picking up the pieces, trying to glue the Party back together, to be the Heart. Mike, alone, slowly breaking, no one to pick up the pieces of him.
Mike, standing in front of him, drowning in what he thinks is rejection.
Suddenly, everything else doesn't matter. Only the boy in front of him. The boy who just spent a little bit longer, okay, a lot longer, in the confusion Will knows all too well. The boy who, after all, always has been the one to understand Will, all of him. The boy, who felt alone, not aware that the feeling of isolation was mirrored in Will on the other side of the country.
He won't feel alone anymore. Not if Will has any say in it.
"Mike." he says gently. "Look at me."
Mike raises his head again, slowly. His eyes are empty. It breaks Will's heart.
Yet, he smiles at him, softly.
"I was never over you." he breathes out. "I don’t know who I was fooling claiming that I was. I couldn’t even fool myself."
He watches the realization dawn on Mike's face again, only, this time, it's a completely different one. Will watches his eyes light up, the hope that was beaten down in him so many times mirrored in them.
"What?"
"I love you too." Will says, sure of it, in a way he's never been sure of anything before.
"What?" Mike repeats, and Will laughs.
"Now would be a really bad time to say it was all just a joke." he says a little nervously.
That seems to break Mike out of his daze.
"What? No, it wasn’t I meant every word, I swear." he says earnestly.
"Good." Will says softly, smiling through tears. "Because I did too."
Mike stares at him in disbelief.
"I don’t understand."
"What don’t you understand?"
"How could you still…? After everything? When I never deserved you in the first place."
He asks all that as if it's all impossible questions. For Will, it's the simples thing ever.
"Why? Because you were confused?"
"Because I hurt you." Mike frowns, brokenly.
"Yeah, well, believe it or not, you’re not the worst thing that’s happened to me." Will laughs darkly. "You know. The whole being kidnapped by monsters thing. But also, I’ve been through this. The same confusion, the same fear. Granted, it wasn’t as difficult for me. But, yeah, realizing how I felt, it wasn’t overnight. I also didn’t know for a long time. Then I was in denial. And I get why it took you longer than me."
Mike stares some more, eyes wide, impossibly deep. Will wants to kiss him. Hold him, close his arms around him, make sure he never feels lost and alone ever again. An electrical jolt passes through his body, as he realizes, for the first time, he might just be able to do that. At some point.
"I’m so sorry." Mike says.
"Will you stop saying that?" Will laughs.
"But I mean it." Mike offers him a small smile again.
"I mean it too."
Then, they both laugh. Together. And this time, they really are just Mike and Will. Not two confused barely adults. Just two boys, two best friends. Two boys in love. And it feels like, maybe, life won't be as scary, as long as they have each other.
"What happens now?" Mike asks softly, a ghost of a smile still playing on his lips.
Will looks at him, and, even though he seems more alive than when he first came here, he still sees the emptiness in the background of his eyes. He knows he won't be ready for a long time. He knows nothing will be okay overnight. He also knows, he himself won't be okay overnight. He still can't quiet believe he heard Mike utter the words "I love you" to him, and god knows how long it'll take for him to fully believe it. How long it'll take for Mike to believe him in return.
But one thing he knows for sure, and it's that he's never letting him go again.
"Well," he says slowly, seriously. "What needs to happen first, is you need to get your head out of the gutter. You need to leave your mother’s basement, and figure out if working at Radio Shack really is what you want to do for the rest of your life. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just saying, at least, think if you maybe want to work in one outside Hawkins, yeah?" he smiles a little again.
Mike laughs, and nods.
"And you?" he asks, and there is so much hope and desperation in his eyes.
"And I’ll be there for you." Will says simply, softly. "Every step of the way." he pauses. "If you want me to. If you let me."
"I just want you." Mike says. "In any way you’ll have me."
Will smiles.
"I’ll have you in every way possible. But first, you need to figure your life out. And not for me. For you."
Mike smiles too, and it seems, he finally sees the light ahead of him. He's found his way. Will was able to be a beacon for him, just like he had done so many times before. But this time, he didn't do so at the expence of his own feelings. They finally managed to pull each other into the light.
"Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yeah." Mike says, and, after a pause, asks: "Will?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you."
And Will's hearth might just burst out of his chest. He laughs, genuinely, happily, now.
"I love you too."
He feels Mike step closer, closing the distance between them, his breath ghosting over his face. Will's eyes flutter shut.
"Can I?" he hears Mike whisper. Always asking. Always mindful.
And Will can't honestly say his fingertips and his lips haven't been itching painfully to touch, to feel, for the past few minutes.
He smiles, then nods.
Finally, he feels Mike's lips over his, and he realizes that this is the feeling he's been looking for all along.
He finally feels like someone gets him. He feels like he's understood.
Seen.
Everything else they'll need to work on. But, as long as they make each other feel seen, Will is pretty sure they'll figure it all out eventually.