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Will's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Despite the bright windows and pristine walls, hospitals always felt suffocating. His limbs were tangled in the multitude of tubes plugged into his body, he wasn't allowed to leave his bed by himself, and he couldn't pick up anything because his hands wouldn't. stop. shaking.
"Here, let me get that for you," Will ducked his head in embarrassment as his best friend, Mike, reached over the grab the glass of water Will had been struggling to pick up. The cool rim bumped painfully against his teeth and the water clumsily sloshed over his lips and down his chin. Drinking while someone else held the cup was harder than Will had initially imagined.
He hated feeling so useless, so dependent on other people, but it was inevitable when trapped in a hospital bed. Still, he felt so guilty sometimes. All Will had been doing in the past year or so had been take take take. Take the therapy sessions and hospital visits, take the kind words of support from the people he loved, take all the time away from his mother. He had no chance to give back. He was starting the think he never would.
"It must get boring in here," Mike took another glance around the stark white room.
Will shrugged, "Yeah, sometimes. But people visit a lot, like you and Mom and Dustin and Lucas. Plus, sometimes they even wheel a TV in. This hospital has, like, eight whole channels!"
"Eight?" Mike marveled. "Mine at home only has, like, four!"
"I know!" Will reciprocated his enthusiasm. "But you're right, it still does get pretty boring. Mom was gonna come by with some more paper and crayons for me to draw with, but I guess she had to take another extra shift. Hospital bills, you know."
Except, Will thought somewhat bitterly, Mike didn't know. The Byers family had never been the poorest of people, but they definitely weren't the Wheelers. Mike never had to tuck himself into bed when he was young because his mother was working too late to do so. Mike never had to help look for stray quarters in the cushions before going grocery shopping. Mike never felt guilty when asking to buy something as simple as a box of colored pencils.
It wasn't his fault, of course. People couldn't control what family they were born into. But Will had a lot of time to sit in his thin hospital gown and be angry at the way the world worked.
Mike nodded. "Did the doctors tell you when you'll be released yet?"
Will shook his head, bangs grazing the top of his eyes.
Just then, the hospital's air conditioner turned on directly above Will's uncovered body. Goosebumps immediately rose on his skin and the hairs on the nape of his neck stood up.
He looked to Mike helplessly, "Can you—?"
The request wasn't even finished before Mike sprung to action, gently tugging the itchy covers from under Will's body and drawing them over him. It helped, but not a lot. His lips began to quiver, teeth chattering, the rows clacking together like a tap dance routine.
"Still cold?" Mike asked gently. He studied his friend with wide, brown doe-eyes and parted lips. Will just nodded and stared back.
He didn't even flinch when Mike put his hand over his own, which is something that made Will mentally give himself a pat on the back for. He glanced his eyes downwards to the pair of hands, then back to Mike, hoping to deliver the message that it was okay. Talking felt too harsh for a moment this delicate. Like the words would grate against his throat as though they were shards of glass as shatter in the air. Shatter Mike and Will.
Mike, Will realized, was all contrast. He was dark hair and eyes against the palest skin. Pink lips against his colorless appearance, freckles like ink blotches over fresh paper. A great, red, thumping heart on his sleeve that changed from sweet to sour in an instant.
Will was desaturated. A product of what once was and what could've been. He'd been stripped of his bright clothes and forced into the bleak hospital gown. His childlike personality has been dampened by the effects of trauma and PTSD. His skin was growing lighter and lighter with each passing day, as though the white walls of the hospital were going to swallow him whole.
A movement across the back of his hand made him avert his gaze back to where Mike was now stroking him with his thumb. A tiny, subtle movement that carried so much to it and made Will's heart skip a beat.
Will took in a deep, shuddering breath, "Mike—"
Mike immediately went to retract his hand, but Will shot up and grabbed it, this time intertwining their finger so he couldn't escape.
"Mike," he tried again, "I'm scared."
For the first time in forever, Mike's expression was unreadable. He nodded, silently requesting him to elaborate.
"I don't know what's happening to me," he admitted. The shards of glass began traveling up his throat. "The doctors. They're running all these tests and won't give me any answers. I wanna know why it felt like I was being lit on fire, I wanna know why I can't remember who Bob is."
He up at the ceiling to prevent his tears from spilling over, "What if I forget you, too?"
Mike tightened his grip on Will's hand. "You won't," he said with certainty, although his voice was also hoarse from the limo building in his throat. "I won't let you. And even if I mess up, and you don't recognize me, I'll tell you everything we've ever done together. Ever. I'll catch you right back up to where we left off."
Will let out a humorless laugh, "There's no way you'd remember everything."
"Oh yeah?" he quirked a dark eyebrow. "Try me."
He thought for a moment, "Alright... do you remember third grade, when you tried to give me a haircut?"
Mike snorted, "Yeah. Best haircut of you damn life, if memory serves correct."
"It most definitely does not."
"That one was too easy, give me another one."
Will ran his pointer finger over his chapped lips, "How about... What did we dress up as for Halloween when we were five?"
He watched gleefully as Mike opened his mouth indignantly. "That's not fair! There's no way you actually know the answer to that!"
"But I do, Michael," Will tutted playfully. "It was a trick question. I didn't go trick-or-treating that year because I was home sick with a cold. You came over after and said that you snuck two candies at each house so I could have my fair share."
Mike shook his head, defeated but smiling, "I have no recollection of that."
"Well then, clearly I'm the one with the better memory. Maybe you should be in this bed instead of me," Will teased. He reached over as quickly as he could and pulled Mike down onto the blankets with him.
"Come on!" he teased. "Time to get into your gown! Do you want a sponge bath, too?"
"No!" Mike laughed as he struggled to get away from Will's grip. "Let me go, shithead!"
It was then when a nurse burst through the door, making both of the boys jump and Will shove Mike off him. Both of them cowered under the nurse's suspicious glare.
"Roughhousing," Will sputtered nervously. "We were just... roughhousing."
He trailed off as the nurse walked farther into the room. Her tight blonde ponytail swung behind her with every stride.
"Yes, well, while you two were roughhousing, one of you accidentally pulled the string that triggers the emergency call," she said.
"Sorry," replied Mike. "My fault."
The nurse went to checking the tubes that were still connected to Will's arms and forehead, "I'd refrain from doing it again, if you can help it. Will could've pulled out an IV or something by accident and cause serious damage."
"Sorry," the boys chorused again. They remained silent until the clacking of her high heels faded down the hallway and into the distance.
"That was so embarrassing," Mike said when she was finally gone. He scrubbed his hands over his red face as though to remove the memory from his eyeballs.
"You could say that again," Will agreed.
Mike checked the watch on his wrist. It read 6:24.
"I should probably start leaving. Mom wants me home for dinner," he said begrudgingly.
He didn't miss the way Will's face fell in disappoint. "Yeah, you should probably get going then."
Will picked at the stray lint on his comforter. He could already feel the cold, ugly feeling of loneliness seep into his chest.
"I mean... my mom could always just put my dinner in the fridge for later. I'm sure she won't mind."
He returned Mike's big, warm smile and pat at the side of the bed for Mike to sit down on.
"Thank you," Will said quietly. "For staying, I mean."
Mike reached up to ruffle his friend's hair, much to Will's annoyance, "Anything for you, dude. Now, are you serious about getting eight channels?"