Chapter Text
It's at a point now where El practically lives with the Byers.
Hopper is always busy, and even though she's supposed to keep a low profile until the hullabaloo about Hawkins dies down, he just can't keep the poor girl locked up in the cabin alone again. Since Joyce and her kids live fairly far out away from the edge of town, letting El visit them is a perfect compromise. After all, Joyce adores her and Hopper trusts that Jonathan will keep an eye out for her when his mom's too busy. And of course El gets to see her friends.
The party never used to hang out at the Byers' much, because Will lives the farthest away and Mike's parents don't bother them and will let them do just about anything at the Wheelers' house, not to mention the unspoken income gap that makes it difficult for Joyce to provide the ideal hangout spot for four thirteen-year-old boys and their hip new technology and never-ending appetite for pizza and chips and candy. Since the events of the past couple years, however, such matters barely cross their minds; they're all just happy to have somewhere to hang out together and see each other.
Mike visits nearly every chance he gets. While inattentive parents are a plus when it comes to planning weekend-long D&D campaigns and movie marathons with friends, it's getting increasingly uncomfortable when he's alone with his family. It's as though Ted and Karen exist on another plane of reality where they're a perfect picket-fence nuclear family, a good patriotic Christian family that follows the expectations of society and doesn't once question if there's maybe another way to live your life. As though everything's fine in Hawkins, Indiana and they didn't get dragged through hell while narrowly avoiding inter-dimensional Armageddon just a few months ago. Nancy's okay, of course, but she's never around, probably for the same reason. They just don't get it, they don't get the things that matter and the things that don't. So it makes more sense to be with the people who do get it, who understand why he so desperately wants to be around El and Will at every given opportunity, why that look falls over his face like he worries he may never see those two faces ever again every time they say goodbye.
Dustin, Lucas, and Max join them, too, of course, but not nearly as often. They get cold feet and end up running off to the arcade, or the cinema, or that little corner restaurant that sells the greasiest hot dogs ever. Since El can't roam around the middle of town, Mike always elects to stay with her. Therefore, both by default because they're hanging out at his house and because he isn't nearly as fond of going out, Will stays behind, too. The previously-inseparable boys sometimes wonder about the fate of their party; so quickly four became six, and six became two sets of three— were they destined to one day drift apart? But no, there's no possible way that they could ever split for good, not after everything they've been through. And they've been through some pretty wild stuff indeed.
Everyone hoped and prayed that closing the gate would fix everything. While it's certainly been far better, both for Will and for El, things still linger. El still gets stressed about closed doors and tight spaces. Though she is officially and legally Hopper's adopted daughter now, She still feels a twinge of guilt in her stomach when she's called "Jane". The numbers branded on her wrist aren't going to go away. There are still so many things she doesn't yet understand. Will avoids walking near certain spots in his house where his map of the tunnels used to be. He gets jumpy during thunderstorms or particularly windy nights. That feeling of being stared at, the feeling that first showed its face when Troy decided what his cruel nickname for Will should be and the rest of the school seemed to keep whispering ever since, the feeling that intensified tenfold after he returned home from the Upside Down, the feeling that bore into his head just behind his eyes and made his blood turn to ice when the Mind Flayer took control of him... that feeling never quite went away.
But Mike is there.
Like he's always been, Mike is there, and he makes it bearable. For both of them. He's a safe place to run to, a warm hand to hold, a little bit of Normal to keep their world sane. And he’s been around constantly, now more than ever.
Will once got embarrassed and apologized to him, saying that he didn't have to be so nice and spend so much energy caring for him, because it wasn't fair, Will's problems are definitely a burden on him and he didn't have to stay. Mike was taken aback that he felt that way; with him and Eleven it was so unspoken and yet clearly understood, they lean on each other and looking out for her is something he needs, too, to feel useful and worth something and not just another nobody in a small town where nothing happens. He tells Will that it's the same with him, too, it always has been. He is Mike's best friend and not even a shadow demon from another universe would stop him from caring. Something about that conversation shifts a gear in both boys' heads. More and more they are suddenly realizing that yes, it's always been this way.
The nervous flutters in Will's stomach that were different from other kinds of nerves, the ones that only happened around Mike, it's always been this way. The understanding warmth in Mike's eye that was so calming, and allowed him to talk about the things that bothered him, it's always been this way. The inexplicable joy that lit Will up like Christmas lights whenever Mike laughed or praised his drawings or played the part of DM a little too enthusiastically, the kind that pricked little worries across the back of his neck, maybe this is why words like "queer" and "fag" leave a lingering sting... it's always been this way. The realization that he is— has always been— hopelessly in love with Mike, and the fact that Mike is obviously, completely, irreversibly in love with Eleven, shatters him like the force of a runaway train and Will spends the entire night sobbing bittersweet and heartbroken tears into his pillow.
While it all becomes clear to Will, the shift in perspective has clouded and scrambled up everything in Mike's head and he finds himself unable to comprehend for sure what his own thoughts mean. He had said that his feelings were "the same for you as they are for El"; the more he considers that statement the harder it is to deny the truth in it. But El is different. He loves El. He tries to piece together what he felt about her from the beginning until now, and there's always a flicker of the same feelings in his memories of his friendship with Will. El was alone and scared when he found her (so was Will), she was different and intriguing and looked at him like she thought he was, too (so did Will), she came into his life at exactly the right time, when he needed a little bit of hope (so did Will). But the flip in his stomach when El walked out in Nancy's old dress and a blond wig, when it was El's face framed by what you're expected to see as normal, what a boy like him is expected to find attractive, that little lightbulb that switched on and he realized "oh... maybe I Like her..." and made his heart start somersaulting towards some really, really big feelings... That's the difference, right? It has to be. But you had feelings already before you realized it in that moment, a voice in the back of his head argues (it sounds suspiciously like Lucas). Are you so oblivious that you need to physically see somebody's face on the standard model to realize you Like them? And it's not as though Mike didn't think El was pretty before. He knows an attractive face when he sees one. He can look around a classroom at school and tell which of the girls are cute, and heck, even which of the boys are cute, too.
Even which of the boys are cute, too.
...Boys are cute, too...
And for some reason most of the examples that pop into Mike's head happen to be Will Byers.
The radio is on and tuned to a news station during dinner. The radio hosts are blabbering on about politics as usual, and the election, and other boring things that don't matter. When the discussion shifts to concerns about the "gay disease" epidemic, Mike squirms uncomfortably in his chair and starts tapping his foot. He asks Nancy to turn the radio off, it's just boring talking and nobody's listening anyway. Nancy brushes the volume wheel as she walks by, but he can still hear every word. The radio hosts take the topic seriously for about five seconds before laughing and brushing it off with lazily tossed slurs. "I said turn it off!" Mike shouts. Holly looks over at him with a frightened face, Karen gives him a scolding look for startling Holly, Ted mumbles about "no yelling at the table" without looking up from his meatloaf. Nancy is staring at Mike with confusion and concern, like she could sense his uneasiness in his tone, but she doesn't make a fuss about it. Mike hurriedly finishes his plate and leaves the dinner table with homework as an excuse to avoid helping clean up and thunders down into the basement where his super-com sits waiting in the fort under the table. Like usual, he starts with "El, are you there?"
"Mike," comes the soft reply, and the relief and excitement to hear her voice break through the static makes his breath catch, even though the days of calling out into empty white noise are long gone, even though she is always there now, she always replies. But the lump stays in his throat when he asks, "One or two?"
Hopper had gifted El a matching walkie talkie so she could chat with everyone if she wanted to, without overexerting herself by using psychic means to contact them. With this gift he also established rules about how much she could say. Revealing her location could be dangerous, of course, so they have to use vague codes. If she is asked "one or two", it means they are asking if she is at Hopper's cabin, one, or at the Byers', two. "One or two?" I need to see you, where can I find you?
"One," El replies, still in a soft voice, like she knows he's upset about something. Without a second's hesitation Mike snatches up his backpack and goes right out the door to hop on his bike. He'll come up with an excuse for his parents later. The instant Mike reaches the cabin door and raps his knuckles in the secret knock pattern, every lock clicks and it swings right open, and Mike stumbles directly into Eleven's waiting arms. Holding her feels like coming home. Mike clings to that thought, trying to avoid the confusing swarm of buzzing questions and fears that are also spinning about in his head. It takes more effort than he anticipates, and soon he's unable to stop his eyes from watering. El holds his face in her hands and stares up at him, carefully brushing the tears from his cheeks, searching him for an answer. "Are you okay?"
Words mean different things when El says them. She's learning how to communicate and expanding her vocabulary exponentially fast, but she can still convey such complex messages with so few carefully chosen words or phrases. She learned "Are you okay?" from Mike within the first day she met him. It means I'm here, I care about you, if you need help I will do anything to make it better. Tell me where it hurts.
Mike squeezes her shoulders, digging his fingers into the loose sweatshirt she's wearing, and whispers, "I don't know."
He can't find the words to explain what's wrong. He's not even sure himself what it's about anymore, all he knows is that he doesn't know. El understands. She sits down on the couch next to him and holds him and strokes his hair silently. Her heartbeat is steady, real, grounding; Mike can feel the strong pulse so vividly. This is what matters, he thinks. Being here with El, where he doesn't have to explain why he's not okay. That is what matters.
He's not really sure what time it is when he gets home. All the upstairs lights are off except Nancy's bedroom. Mike goes through a list of possible excuses for why he was outside so late, but it turns out he didn't need a cover story this time. Nancy is sitting on the basement couch when Mike comes in the back door. She doesn't ask where he's been, after all it's pretty obvious and she's been in that position before, needing to be with somebody who understands. "I told Mom that you were asleep down here," she explains. Mike thanks her quietly, kicking off his shoes.
"Don't expect me to always cover for you, at least warn me when you're gonna sneak off at a stupid time," Nancy chuckles and gives him a sympathetic smile, then hesitates before adding, "You can talk to me if something's bothering you, y'know. What happened to 'no more secrets', huh?"
Mike is most definitely not in the mood to talk it out with anybody, let alone his sister. While he's mostly annoyed, a small part of him appreciates that she's on his side. Jonathan's supportive-older-sibling tendencies must be starting to rub off on her. It doesn't take much to get her to drop the subject, however, and she leaves him to himself. Mike doesn't bother going upstairs to bed. He lays down in his usual spot on the couch and attempts to fall asleep, and the basement feels quieter and lonelier than it has for a long time.
The next morning at school, there is something noticeably off about both Will and Mike. Will looks like he hasn't slept in days; his eyes are red and puffy and he keeps dozing off in the middle of class. It's not like his typical off-days, though, which consist of anxious fidgeting and swaying and looking as though he might burst into tears if something startled him too hard. Today it's more like the opposite; he's just so gloomy. He even turned down Dustin's offer of an extra pudding cup he snatched from the cafeteria, for crying out loud!
"Did something happen? Like, did his dog die or something?" Max asks. She observes the little raincloud at a distance, seeming to pick up on something the other two don't; she can't tell what's caused it, but he's got all the telltale signs of a lonely broken heart. Dustin and Lucas are at a loss. They know how to cheer up a nervous Will, and pull him along into their conversations and jokes until he relaxed and laughed some, but a sad Will? This is where they'd usually turn to Mike. But he definitely isn't himself today, either. Mike looks downright paranoid, shrinking down into his seat and eyes shifting around the classroom. He's in an agitated mood, which isn't terribly surprising, but what's weirder is he's avoiding everyone— just plain ignoring them. He won't meet their eyes, and he won't even look at Will. Max is usually pretty good about suppressing her desire to punch Mike in the face, but he's being so weird today that it's particularly difficult to hold back. When school ends for the day and he takes off without so much as a "goodbye", she scoffs and tells Lucas and Dustin to not bother inviting him to the arcade with them this time. He never joins them anyways and his snippy attitude would only ruin the fun. They're reluctant to leave him out, but agree that it's probably better to let him cool off from whatever mood he's gotten into.
El is at Will's house when he and his brother get home, idly switching channels on their TV. Jonathan drops him off and tells the two to behave and to not eat too much junk food, then leaves for his part-time job. El smiles innocently up at Will, and before she can notice the pain on his face he retreats to the bathroom. His cheeks burn hotly with shame; why does she have to be there today? Would she know with just one glance that last night he had been cursing her name into tear-stained bedsheets, wishing her out of existence, because how could a pitiful little weirdo like him ever compare to her? If she wasn't real then he could still pretend, pretend that Mike's caring smiles and sweet brown eyes were his, he could pretend that when he put his arm around his shoulders it was because he was special to Mike, because he wanted to be close to him and touch him and share his warmth. But Eleven is real, she's here and she's amazing and she's beautiful and Mike looks at her in a way that makes it painfully clear how not special Will is, because his eyes don't light up like that for him, he doesn't grin that way for him. And that makes pretending so much harder.
It isn’t fair. He can’t hate El. With all the time they've spent together recently, she has very quickly become one of his best friends. She is fascinated by his artwork, and would ask him about every single illustration, listening so intently when he'd explain each one. Scenes from the party's D&D campaigns that strung together like a picture book are her favorites, because Will would tell the full story in detail and his excitement made it so much more entertaining. He had been shy to share some of his original stories, but she was so genuinely interested in them that he couldn't resist babbling about those, too. El has very limited artistic ability, but she loves watching Will draw and learning how he does it. Joyce bought her her own set of crayons so she didn't have to keep borrowing his, so now it's even easier to teach her the skill. They are best friends, or perhaps more akin to brother and sister, since Will is open about himself to her the way he is with Jonathan. So the sudden onslaught of angry red jealousy burning in the pit of his stomach feels like betrayal.
He turns on the sink and rubs cold water into his face, begging it to stop being so obvious. It doesn't work. His big girly blue-green eyes and round pink cheeks always gave everything away, his heart on full display whether he wanted it to be or not. He's not even surprised the bullies at school noticed, no matter how brainless they are. And if they could see it before even he did, then surely someone as observant as El would. It would be pointless to try and hide from her, she would know something is wrong right away. And Friends Don't Lie. With a defeated sigh Will steps out of the bathroom and beckons Eleven out the back door. If he's gonna tell her his deepest darkest secrets, then it's gonna be somewhere safe.