Chapter Text
Over the next couple of days, Will gets even less sleep than usual. Guilt has been gnawing at his stomach, causing him to toss and turn as he fruitlessly attempts to quiet his mind long enough to doze off. To make matters worse, it’s Monday again, and Will is not mentally prepared to face Mike in front of the entirety of Hawkins High.
When Will was younger, he would occasionally get the unshakable feeling that other people could read his mind- like his thoughts and feelings were plastered across his face, and if he let anyone look at him too closely, they’d discover all his deepest secrets. After the whole Vecna business, Will can’t exactly comfort himself by telling himself that mind reading doesn’t exist, but he at least knows that the average high schooler probably doesn’t have those abilities.
As Will clambers out of the car, waving goodbye to his mom, he tries to remind himself that nobody is hiding behind a bush or waiting around a corner to jump out and yell ‘Liar!’ at him. And even if they were, Will isn’t obligated to tell anyone (even Mike) every single detail of whatever he’s thinking at any given moment- he’s just caught up in punishing himself for a crime that he’s invented in his own mind.
Will has halfway convinced himself of this when he spots a familiar mop of black curls through the window to the main hallway. Instantly, whatever degree of absolution he had begun to grant himself melts away like the light layer of snow that had fallen overnight. That old phrase drifts into Will’s head: friends don’t lie. Suddenly chilled in a way that has nothing to do with the late-winter wind, Will swallows dryly before making himself walk up to the school doors.
“Hey, Will!” Mike’s face breaks into a wide grin. It feels wrong, like he should be glaring at Will instead. Or at least acting indifferent toward him- anything to make Will feel like he’s being rightfully admonished for his wrongdoing. But of course, this is just another day for Mike. He doesn’t know about how Will spent the last two nights nearly sick to his stomach, feeling like he’d committed some kind of mortal sin by lying to the person he cares about the most.
“Hey- You’re uh. You’re here earlier than usual.” Will’s voice cracks in the middle of his sentence, which he hopes Mike will chalk up to something innocuous. Like the cold weather, or maybe a delayed reaction to puberty.
“Oh yeah, I got woken up pretty early- Nancy burned her hand on her curling iron while she was getting ready, and it turns out the acoustics of our hallway are perfect for carrying the sound of pained screams.”
“Ouch, is she okay?”
“Hm? Ah, probably. I mean, yeah, she totally is.” Mike waves his hand in the air as if he was already forgetting about Nancy’s woes. “Anyways…” Shit. Will freezes as Mike gently knocks their shoulders together, turning to face Will as they stop next to a row of lockers.
“How’ve you been? Better than Nancy, I hope.” Mike’s voice is casual, but there’s a look in his eyes that hints at something else lingering beneath the surface of his question.
And there it is, the moment that Will has been dreading since he got out of bed that morning. It was one thing to lie to Mike once- it was another thing entirely to keep it going, to let it snowball until it became an avalanche that would wreck their friendship for good. Whether or not Mike ever found out was beside the point. Will wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for it. Sure, some omissions would always be necessary (like the number of times Will has fantasized about pressing his lips to Mike’s in a decidedly non-platonic way), but he couldn’t just lie to Mike’s face and pretend like it didn’t change anything.
So, Will decides to compromise. Maybe he can’t bring himself to lay everything out in detail, but he can at least assuage his guilt by telling Mike something true. Something that Mike can understand, something that isn’t like a giant vat of depressing goo being dumped over his head. After all, Mike does care. Will isn’t a complete idiot, he can see that much. He’ll give in, just a little. Just enough to show Mike that he doesn’t need to worry about him. Besides, if Mike suspects something is up and Will just keeps deflecting, it’s only going to make matters worse between them. Mike may be oblivious sometimes, but Will is sure he would notice if his each and every attempt at asking how Will is doing was met with a strained, Fine! Thanks! Nothing to see here!
“Will? You still there?” Mike somewhat jokingly waves a hand back and forth in front of Will’s eyes, but his eyebrow is tilted upwards in what appears to be genuine concern. Will must have been zoning out while thinking to himself again. Flushed with embarrassment, he snaps back to reality.
“Shit, sorry- Monday mornings, you know? I’m still half-asleep, honestly.” Will has to remind himself to stop biting at the inside of his lip as works up the nerve to say something else. Mike must be able to see that he’s deliberating, because he doesn’t try to reply right away.
“And, um…” Will can’t help it- the familiar taste of blood hits his tongue as his teeth search for something to nervously clamp down upon. “Well, I actually wanted to talk to you. About Saturday.”
“Yeah? Is everything alright?” Mike, always careless with touch, brushes his hand against Will’s, something like a gesture of encouragement.
“Well, that’s the thing actually. I know you said to promise to tell you… if something was ever not alright. And- I guess maybe there has been something, and I wasn’t really sure how to say it. But I was thinking about it, and I felt really bad because I said I would tell you but for some reason I just couldn’t and it’s so stupid-” Mike reaches out again, like before, except this time he grabs Will’s hand and wraps his own around it, fingers laced together. Despite the mostly-empty hallway, Will glances from side to side in trepidation.
“Woah, slow down- it’s okay. You can tell me anything, remember? Just take your time.”
Will realizes, with a start, that he hasn’t actually planned out what he’s planning to say to Mike. Not exactly, at least. He just needs something that can toe the line between honesty and obscurity, something that gives in just a little but doesn’t betray the clusterfuck of nonsensical emotions Will is constantly buried beneath.
Will takes a deep breath. “Actually, can we- can we go somewhere? I just don’t want to be standing out in the hallway right now. It’s only a quarter until 8:00, everyone will be showing up soon.”
“No, yeah. Of course,” Mike nods. Will nearly regrets his course of action when he sees the look on Mike’s face- like he’s alarmed but trying not to show it. Oh well. Too late now. Will grabs Mike by the arm, almost as an afterthought, and guides him to the empty AV lab.
When they reach the dimly-lit room, Will shuts the door gently behind them. Mentally, he congratulates himself at having the restraint to not slam it shut. When the door clicks into place, the room goes silent, save for the dull buzzing of the overhead lightbulb.
While they were walking down the hall, Will had made up his mind. He would start with the drawings. Or, lack thereof. It’s benign enough, Will thinks to himself. Art block is something that everyone who makes art goes through. Famous artists, even! He’s pretty sure, at least. Regardless, it was something true that he could tell Mike. It wasn’t everything, but it was a start.
“So… what was it you wanted to tell me?” Will isn’t sure if he imagines it, but it seems like Mike is standing closer than he was when they were out in the hallway, now that they’re alone. Will pushes down the thought. Now is not the time for his wishful thinking to distract him from the conversation at hand.
Will looks at Mike, standing across from him. If he inched forward just the slightest bit, the toes of their shoes would bump against each other. Clearing his throat, Will tries to subtly shift backward, creating more space between them. He needs to think.
“I- the thing is…” Will shakes his head like he might be able to clear his mind by using physical force. “I can’t- I can’t draw.” Will spits out the words like they’re a caustic substance he needs to clear from his mouth. And as soon as he says it, it feels juvenile- banal, even. He feels like a kindergartener throwing a fit over a broken crayon.
The brief silence that follows is painful. The corner of Mike’s mouth quirks downward as he looks at Will, perplexed. “What do you mean? You’re great at drawing, better than pretty much anyone I’ve met.”
“That’s not what I- like I said, it’s stupid and I don’t really know how to explain, but… I just can’t make myself draw. Lately, I mean. It’s like, every time I sit down and try, there’s just nothing. Everything goes fuzzy and blank, and there’s nothing there. I don’t know why. I just can’t do it.” Will feels himself shrinking away until he’s leaning against the edge of the table behind him. A bundle of wires and stacked radio parts brushes up against his back.
“Oh.” Mike is still bearing a nonplussed expression, but he nods as if to convey understanding. “How long has this been going on?”
For some reason, Mike’s response takes Will by surprise. Some downtrodden and pessimistic part of him had expected Mike to reply with something like, “You’re right, that is stupid. Now pull yourself together and let’s get to class.” Not that Mike would ever even think of saying something like that in real life. Will thinks, not for the first time, that his own inner voice must be conspiring to make him miserable somehow.
“Um. Since last year, I think. After everything went down, ever since things went back to normal.” Will starts fiddling with one of the wires beside him, turning it between his fingers just to have something to quell his restless energy.
“That long? Why didn’t you say anything? And I- wait, shit. I was being a total asshole the other week, wasn’t I? I was trying to push you to do that stupid art assignment when you obviously didn’t want to.” Mike swore again, under his breath.
“No, it’s fine- really! I’m the one who was being completely neurotic about it. I wanted to, and I tried, but I just ended up sitting at my desk for hours and still- nothing. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It used to be so easy, and now…” Will is teetering dangerously toward full-on sobbing in front of Mike. His breathing comes shallow and quick, and his eyes burn with barely held back tears. He blinks rapidly, willing himself not to fall apart over something this inconsequential.
“What? No, don’t say that. You’re not crazy, and there’s nothing wrong with you. Maybe it’s not exactly the same, but I kind of get what you’re saying- I think. Like, sometimes when I’m trying to write a new campaign for us, it’s like all my ideas turn to mush as soon as I sit down to write, and I have to go do something else for a while before I can come back to it and actually start the story.” Mike takes a step toward Will, closing the distance that Will had created. He hesitates for just a moment, arm raised in the empty space between their bodies, before reaching out and placing a hand on Will’s shoulder, squeezing firmly.
The consolatory affection is too much. As Will slowly lifts his eyes from the floor to find Mike’s face furrowed in concern, he loses his final trace of resolve. Will’s breath hitches inward as the first tears start streaming down his cheeks. His face is hot, and he tastes blood and salt. As sobs begin to wrack his body, he feels himself suddenly wrapped in warmth. He isn’t sure who leaned in first, but Mike’s arms are fully around him now, gripping him in a tight hug.
Unable to entertain thoughts of shame or embarrassment in his current state, Will lets himself be embraced. Hands trembling, he grabs onto Mike’s shirt for support, bunching the fabric between his fingers. His chin is hooked over Mike’s shoulder, and he’s getting his collar damp with snot and tears. He dimly reminds himself to apologize for that, later.
“I- I’m sorry,” Will manages to choke out in between sobs. “I don’t know- I’m sorry.” Will’s ability to form coherent thoughts has evidently escaped, so he’s resigned to letting himself cry his eyes out onto Mike’s shoulder, as long as he’ll let him.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Mike speaks softly, showing no signs of detaching, despite the fact that his shirt is probably getting ruined. Will can’t comprehend it.
Slowly, Will’s heart rate begins to level out. The tears are still coming, but more as a trickle than a flood. He can feel the rise and fall of Mike’s chest as he breathes steadily against him, and he uses it as a guide to stabilize his own breathing.
In any other circumstance, Will would be sweating bullets at the mere prospect of being wrapped around Mike like this, but somehow, he feels more at ease than he has since… well, staying at Mike’s house the year before.
For the time being, Will allows himself to indulge in the comfort of feeling Mike’s body against his own. Voices and footsteps are faintly audible beyond the door of the AV lab- it must be 8:00 already. Still, neither of them break apart. The air inside the lab is quiet and still, and Will dreads the moment when the spell will be broken, when they have to fill the silence with words.
So, instead of letting the anticipation drag on, Will elects to be the first one to speak. “Mike?”
“Yeah?” Mike’s voice is barely at a whisper, and Will can feel his breath ghost across the nape of his neck as he speaks.
“I don’t want to go to class today.”
Mike traces circles against the back of Will’s shirt. Will isn’t sure if it’s an absentminded habit or if he’s aware of the motion. “Let’s not, then. Let’s just- I don’t know. Class is stupid, and you deserve a break. I mean, we do.”
Finally, Mike pulls away, but his hand remains on Will’s arm, applying a light, comforting pressure. Will hopes that his face doesn’t betray his disappointment at their separation.
“Yeah. You’re right.” Will manages a smile, and for once, it doesn’t feel like the effort takes something out of him. “Let’s take a break, just for the day.”
Mike grins in response, giving Will’s arm a final squeeze before releasing him. “Come on then. We better head out before the bell rings, though, or we’re going to be so busted.”
Will rolls his eyes. “Mike, we’ve fought literal monsters from an inverted hell dimension… I think we can survive the worst case scenario of Saturday detention.”
“I don’t know, have you seen the usual detention crowd? I’d honestly rather fight a demogorgon than get stuck sitting in front of one of those kids for a few hours. I’d never get all the spitballs out of my hair.”
“Oh you’re absolutely right, I should have considered that. You’d have to cut them all out- a bald Mike Wheeler, that would be a real tragedy.”
“Hey, are you saying I’d look bad without hair? It’s not my only stunningly handsome feature. I’ve also got these bad boys.” Mike holds up a lanky arm in a mock display of strength, grasping his bicep as if to emphasize its non-existent bulk.
Will laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not answering that. Come on, you’re right. Better head out before everyone is in class.”
When Will opens the door to the hallway, Mike following close behind, he has to blink to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting. The sound of chatter and lockers slamming shut fills the hall, students milling about as they gather books and exchange pleasantries with fellow classmates.
Will and Mike exchange a look. Instead of heading toward their lockers, they try to remain inconspicuous as they walk in the opposite direction as the majority of the students inside. As soon as they reach the door, Mike breaks out into a sprint across the parking lot.
“Hey, wait!” It takes a moment for Will to react, increasing his pace to catch up with Mike. By the time they reach the stands where Mike’s bike is chained, Will is out of breath. “You didn’t mention you were making a run for it!”
“Sorry, old habits.” It might have been a trick of the light, but Will swears he saw Mike wink, briefly. “So, where are we going?”
Honestly? Will doesn’t care where they go. He just wants to get away. Anything but sitting inside another claustrophobic classroom as the hours drag on, with his resolve wearing down like an over-sharpened pencil.
“You decide, It’ll be a surprise.” Will knows he’ll pay for this later if his mom finds out he’s been skipping. But right now, any reservations he has are helpfully sidelined by the recent memory of Mike’s breath against his skin and his arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
Will can’t help but let himself be selfish for once. Even though he knows Mike would never see him like that, he briefly lets himself imagine a world in which there was more than platonic comfort in his touch. After all, Will deserves a break, at least once in a while.
And so, Will allows himself to forget about everything else as he climbs onto the back of the bicycle, arms around Mike’s waist for stability. The snow from the night before has melted away, and there’s a warmth to the air as the sun begins to peek out from behind the gray morning clouds. Maybe, today won’t be so bad after all.