Work Text:
It's getting late. The air inside the van feels thick and heavy, laced with the smell of sweat and weed and blood, and Mike wishes, for what feels like the thousandth time, that he could be anywhere but here.
Exhaustion has settled over all four of them like a warm, humid blanket, leaving them with nothing but a tense silence to fill the cramped space. Even Argyle appears to be too tired to keep up his earlier cascade of questions and tangents about the situation they've ended up in. (Or maybe the effects of the weed are just wearing off. Mike's not sure, that's not really his area of expertise.) Jonathan is the one currently driving, his fingers nervously drumming against the steering wheel as he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the road ahead. In the back of the van Will is asleep, sitting curled up and resting his head and crossed arms atop his knees. He's only a few feet away, close enough for Mike to reach out and brush a hand through his hair and push it back to get a closer look at his face. Not that he would do that, of course.
Back at the airport, Will had looked so different from what he used to before moving away. That was the thing that Mike had noticed first when he arrived, and the memory of that moment is still swirling around in his mind as he watches the desert pass by outside the window. Sure, El had been the first one he'd seen, and she'd looked different too. Longer hair with bangs, similar to Mrs Byers, and more colorful clothes. He'd noticed that, of course, and it hadn't really fazed him. But after greeting her with a kiss, Mike had looked over her shoulder towards the rest of the group and laid his eyes upon Will, and his brain had just completely clocked out for a solid five seconds.
Will had been looking right at him, his face filled with so much genuine anticipation and happiness that it had almost been blinding. He had grown during the time they'd been apart, both in height and in some kind of other, strange way that Mike hadn't been able to put his finger on, and it had made his heart twist with a sudden, agonizing spike of emotions he'd been scared to keep thinking about for even just a moment. So instead, he had pushed those emotions down and rejected Will's attempt to hug him, terrified that even the slightest misstep would've ruined everything. Instead, he'd immediately shut himself in behind a metaphorical wall, determined to pretend not to notice the way Will's face had fallen, and how the joyful excitement had instantly washed off him entirely, as if a spell had been lifted.
Now, asleep in the back of a pizza van on the way to rescue his sister from the government, Will somehow looks a lot more like his younger self. His face is relatively peaceful, soft in a way Mike hasn't seen on him for a long time. Again, he is hit by the realization that if he just reached out slightly, he could touch the other boy. He still wouldn't do that, though, obviously he wouldn't. It's stupid, and creepy, and wrong, and he does his best to ignore the vicious part of his brain that whispers that actually, he would love to do that.
Here's the thing - Mike knows what he is. He knows what the feelings that have been fighting to break through from deep within him for years makes him. He knows how people who are like him live and what they do, and what other, normal people think about them. And he knows what happens to them when they are found out. What could happen to him too, if the wrong person were to catch him doing something like looking at a boy like that for just a little too long. He knows he's a freak, that what he feels is unnatural and wrong.
There hasn't been a moment for months, maybe even years, where he's not been perfectly aware of all that. But just because he knows it doesn't mean he's going to, what exactly? Accept it? Let his family and friends know, so they can all back away from him, eyes wide with shock and disgust and reproach? Yeah, that'd be a neat way to ruin every single part of his life in a matter of seconds. He just has to hold out for a while, keep telling himself that he just can't be that until he isn't anymore. Feelings fade and change, and if he just stays with El until that happens he'll be fine. He'll be normal if he just keeps pushing a little harder, a little longer. The only thing he has to do is stopping himself from letting any of those feelings show. Especially when it comes to Will. Mike might be a freak, but he won't let any of that ruin things with his best friend. Well, ruin things more than he's already managed to. He'd rather die.
And the thought of telling Will what he is and how he feels, the thought of his best friend looking at him with disgust, well... That thought tears at his heart more than anything else. He can't lose Will. He just can't.
The van hits a bump in the road and Mike startles, pulling back from where he's subconsciously leaned ever so slightly closer to Will. The other boy makes a small, disgruntled noise but then continues to sleep, breathing calmly. Mike knows he should be trying to rest as well. He's been awake for far too long, a pounding headache building behind his eyes as a taunting reminder of how exhausted he is. But the thought of falling asleep there, less than an arm's length away from his best friend, makes his stomach churn with anxiety. And he's worried about El. That's the major reason he can't fall asleep, not any of the other minor details about who is sitting next to him or some stupid shit like that. He is worried about his girlfriend, and honestly, still a bit mad and confused about the fact that she's been lying to him about her whole life for months. The same vicious part of his brain from earlier points out that she isn't exactly the one out of the two of them who's been keeping the biggest secrets. He wants to snap at it to shut up, to press his face into his pillow and silently scream like he always does during the late nights when that part of his brain gets too loud for him to just push it back down inside.
However, he doesn't get many moments to agonize over that, because there is movement next to him and suddenly, Will's head is resting on his shoulder. He exhales softly, relaxing against Mike as he continues to sleep, blissfully unaware about the panic he just instilled in Mike.
It feels like time stops entirely. Mike's stupid, traitorous heart leaps into his throat, blood rushing to his face until his cheeks burn red. He doesn't dare to move a muscle, barely even dares to breathe. Will's hair brushes against his face, and it's so unbelievably soft and Mike can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything at all except sit there frozen in place, the thoughts he fought so hard to push away earlier coming back stronger than ever. Every rational part of his brain seems to instantly have turned into mush, replaced with a mess of oh God and what the Hell and Will Will WillWillWillWill . His heart is going so fast that it feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest, and he hates it because it's wrong and disgusting and messed up and he's not supposed to be feeling this way.
Still not daring to move, he sneaks a glance towards the front of the van. The others have yet to notice what's going on in the back, at least it seems that way as far as he can tell. Jonathan is still focusing on the road, and while Argyle has started talking again it's a lot quieter than earlier. Once he's certain neither of them is looking back towards him and Will, he plucks up the courage to turn his head a little to the side to get a better look at his friend.
Even with his face a bit lopsided from where it's pressed into Mike's shoulder, the way Will looks causes Mike's stomach to flip excitedly, his heart somehow speeding up into an even faster pace. Shame over the way he's reacting burns in every fiber of his being, but no matter how hard he tries, he can't make himself look away. Each second seems to drag on for decades as he quietly watches his friend sleep. His own body is still stiff as a board with nerves, the fear that even the slightest movement is going to startle Will enough to wake him up flashing like a neon sign at the front of his mind.
More time passes, and hesitantly Mike lets himself relax a bit. This is fine , he silently tries to tell himself inside his mind. This is fine, because there's nothing weird about your friend happening to move in his sleep and ending up leaning on you. Get a grip already! Don't make it weird! Nevertheless, the guilt still eats at him, the vicious voice whispering about how filthy he's being, basking in Will's innocent touch while the latter is asleep. But he just can't pull away, no matter how strong the shame over how much he's enjoying all of it grows. The presence of Will's warm body next to him is just too intoxicating, filling him with a kind of familiar fondness he hasn't felt for so long, not since they were younger, cuddled up together for a sleepover in his basement or Will's bedroom.
He's completely lost track of time, hours could have passed and he wouldn't be able to tell. As he begins to relax even more, the thought from earlier, about reaching out to gently touch his sleeping friend, returns to the front of his mind. No way he's touching Will's hair though, because that would almost certainly wake the other boy up. But the idea of letting his arm slide just a bit more to the right, just enough to wrap around Will's shoulder and hold him, flashes through his mind and he has to suppress a full-body shudder. It's bad, and wrong, and he is such a freak to even come up with that idea to begin with. Still, he yearns to do it. It's just a small movement, barely anything. Surely, he could do it for a moment, to quickly feel what it's like? Just one little second of holding Will close, so fast it would barely appear intentional. He knows he shouldn't. The intoxicating warmth just might make him do it anyway.
As slowly and carefully as he can manage, he starts moving his arm. He's just about to let his fingers brush lightly against Will's shoulder, when a shout from the front seat makes him freeze like a deer in headlights. The sudden noise makes Will react as well, shifting slightly as he begins to wake up. The realization that Will is going to realize how close they are, that he might feel how fast Mike's heart is beating and connect the dots, find out what's going on, terrifies him deep into his soul. He withdraws his arm as fast as he possibly can without making what he just tried to do glaringly obvious, while newer, stronger waves of guilt surges through his body, clawing at his insides.
As Argyle happily and loudly starts going on about whatever made him yell out in the first place, Will lifts his head off Mike's shoulder and blinks blearily as he takes in his surroundings. There’s a few moments of confusion on his face, until the proximity of him and Mike seems to dawn on him and he pulls back abruptly. See , the vicious voice cheers inside Mike's mind. He's disgusted by you! Mike just bites the inside of his cheek and does his best to keep a blank look on his face.
"You guys good back there?" Jonathan asks. "I decided to be the adult of the group, and get us to a motel or something so we can get a bit of rest, and not, you know, crash the van?" He chuckles softly at his own words.
"Sounds- Yeah", Will agrees. "Sorry I- I think I might have fallen asleep a while ago?"
"Yeah. Me too." Mike doesn't have time to think about what he's going to say before the words are already spilling out of his mouth. "I fell asleep a while ago as well, I mean."
"Well, some of us have to drive", Argyle chimes in. "We can't all snuggle up and have a nap in the backseat!" He, too, laughs at his own joke.
"There was a sign we passed just now that said it should take about 25 minutes to get to some place where we can rent a room for the night", Jonathan informs them. "Probably won't be the greatest place to stay, but I'd prefer an actual bed to sleeping in here."
He and Argyle pick up the conversation they were having before Will woke up, leaving him and Mike with the tense silence . After pulling away earlier, Will is sitting almost as far away as he can get from Mike without being pressed up to the opposite side of the car, and Mike's stupid heart aches in his chest. They stay quiet for a couple more moments before Will speaks up.
"Sorry for," he gestures vaguely between the two of them, "falling asleep on you. That was probably weird for you. I'm sorry."
"It's fine!" Mike hurries to proclaim, face heating up again when he realizes it ended up coming out as a shout. "I mean, it's fine. I was asleep too, I didn't notice. Or I noticed when I woke up, which was like, seconds before you did. So, uh, yeah, don't worry. It's, it's cool."
"Cool", Will repeats softly, but he doesn't look Mike in the eye as he says it, and the distance between them feels less like a couple of feet and more like a deep, hundred miles wide rift cut straight into the earth.
-
There's only one bed. Mike freezes for a moment in the doorway and has to resist the urge to scream or shout or perhaps even throw himself out the window, because of course there's only one bed! As if the emotions twisting in his gut and the strained silence that has been filling the air between him and Will since their brief conversation in the van after Will woke up isn't torturous enough, the small, dingy motel room the two of them are meant to share for the night just had to only have one bed.
Jonathan and Argyle have already disappeared into the room where they will be sleeping, and now Will, who entered their room first, looks back towards where Mike is standing in the doorway. There is another ten seconds of nothing but that stiff, awkward silence.
"I can sleep on the floor", Will then offers in a small voice, and Mike is broken out of whatever kind of trance he fell into when seeing the room.
"What? No, you don't have to do that! Why would you?" he asks. He doesn't want to sleep next to you, because he knows what you feel, what you think, what you want to do , the voice in his head whispers, and Mike has to pause to swallow back the shame and self-loathing before continuing. "It's fine let's- Let's just go to sleep, get some rest, yeah?"
"Are you sure?" Will asks, not sounding particularly convinced.
"Of course I'm sure! Look I'm really tired, so let's just get on with sleeping already." He knows he should shut up, that he is dangerously close to start rambling, so he does his utmost to keep what he tries to say brief.
Will opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then snaps it shut. His eyes linger on Mike for a moment, and there's something deep and pensive in his gaze that makes Mike unable to look back at him, staring down at the floorboards as he nervously shuffles his feet. After what feels like another eternity Will nods and turns away, and Mike closes the door behind himself as he too steps into the room.
They stay quiet while getting ready to sleep. Mike kicks his shoes off and then picks them up to place them next to the door, sneaking a quick look at Will who is fiddling with the switch of the lamp placed on one of the bedside tables. The silence between them is still tense, but there is something different there as well, something Mike can't really put his finger on. He doesn't even attempt to ask the other boy about it, he knows he can't without making this even more weird and awkward, so instead he takes a step towards the bed before nervously clearing his throat.
"Do you mind, um, what side of the bed do you want?" he asks, voice ending up coming out a lot more uncertain than he originally intended it to. Will flinches, as if he forgot that Mike is in the room with him for a moment.
"I don't really mind", he replies with a shrug and a quick, blink-and-you'll-miss-it glance to the side that tells Mike that he probably does mind. "You go ahead and pick one."
"You sure?" When Will's brow furrows at the question, Mike hurries to elaborate. "Cause, like, this whole thing has put us all on edge, and I thought you might want to choose whether you're the closest to the door, or something? Which is totally fine by me, by the way, I don't..." He trails off, the realization that he's starting to ramble making him unsure of what he's even trying to say.
"Mike." The look in Will's eyes may not be confident enough to be convincing, but the harsh way he states Mike's name certainly is. "I just said it doesn't matter to me."
"Right." Mike swallows. "Then I- I'll just take the left side. Yeah." He sits down on that side, the one that is by the window and farthest from the door.
"Right", Will parrots and sits down across from him. "I'll take this side, then."
"Right." Mike briefly considers his earlier thought about throwing himself out the window to escape the situation. "So- Good night, I suppose?"
"Night", Will responds curtly, taking off his shoes and turning the light off before lying down on the bed, his back turned towards Mike. Mike looks at him and exhales, internally snaps at his brain to just shut up with those thoughts already, and lies down as well, turning towards the window.
He forces himself to close his eyes, to try only thinking about falling asleep, not about El or the government or the warmth of Will's body so excruciatingly close to his own. His heart twinges with sharp bursts of repulsive longing and his head throbs. Just fall asleep already , he silently begs his brain, and by some sort of miracle, he can actually feel his eyelids getting heavier as he slips into an anxious slumber.
-
He's walking across some kind of strange place. A field? A forest? He's not sure, by virtue of the thick, gray fog that surrounds him and prevents him from seeing farther than a couple of feet in any direction. The air is heavy and makes it hard to breathe, like inhaling creates sludge in his lungs, clogging up his airways more and more with every breath. The ground is damp and sticky, covered in weird vines that are all twisting away towards something that he cannot see through the fog, but still somehow knows is there anyway. He doesn't know what exactly it is, only that it's there and that it fills his entire being with a kind of terror he's never felt before.
A sudden, loud noise echoes across the area, making him realize how unnaturally quiet it has been up until this moment. It's a scream, and the sound of it only furthers the panic coursing through him. He recognizes the voice of the person who's screaming, but no matter how hard he tries he can't seem to remember who they are. It stops after only a brief couple of seconds, and he spins around in a frenzy, frantically trying to locate the direction it came from. But now the eerie quiet is all there is, and he can feel the fog somehow growing even thicker, more vicious, as if it's trying to choke him. A flash of something moving catches his eye and he looks down. One of the vines on the ground is pulsing as it slowly crawls towards him. Its movement is deliberate, like it's been looking a long time for him specifically.
The sight of it makes something inside of him snap, and he starts to run. He sprints, and then he stumbles, barely managing to break his fall by throwing out his arms to catch himself. When he looks up again, he sees endless dark water stretching out in front of him, a body of a young boy fleeting face down in the middle of it. Will. He screams and tries to reach out for him, but the vine that was inching towards him grabs his arm and he's unable to get to his friend, but when he turns around it's not a vine holding his arm but El, her face scrunched up with anger as she hurls his letters at him with the hand that is not clutching him in an iron grip.
"You never say it! You never say it! Why do you never say it!" she yells, and then her voice morphs into weird gurgling noises and then a terrified scream, her face morphing too until she looks much younger, a pulsating opening in time and space opening up behind her. He screams too, but his voice is gone, and he can't breathe, and now El is gone and so is Will and he's all alone as the gate opens up to swallow him whole, more and more vines creeping towards him. He tries to scream again, tries to fight back but it's no use, it doesn't make a difference as he feels them grab onto all his limbs and squeeze. His lungs are screaming for oxygen, but to no avail. He's going to die. He's going to die and he's already dead and he is all alone and-
Mike shoots upright with a wheeze, hands grabbing onto a fistful of his shirt as he clutches at his chest in a desperate attempt to breathe. Terror reverberates through his body as his eyes tries to adjust to the darkness around him, and only increases when he realizes that he doesn't recognize the place he's in or why he's there. Something touches his right arm and he lets out a terrified yelp and flinches away, the feeling of the vines crawling across his skin fresh in his mind and, oh God, they're coming for him and he's going to die and he never got to-
"Mike!" The shout of his name somewhat snaps him out of the panicked train of thought. There is more movement to his right, then a clicking noise, and then the bedside lamp turns on with a soft whirring sound. Will sits back up from where he's leaned over to flip the switch, and reaches out a hand towards him again, this time stopping a few inches from his arm, as if he's approaching a frightened wild animal.
Mike inhales shakily, the events of the past days coming back to him now that he isn't in a total state of panic. California. The roller rink. His fight with El, and the government taking her. Running away in the van, ending up in some weird old motel. Sharing a bed with Will. Will, who is currently looking at him with big, worried eyes, arm still raised as if he's unsure whether he should put it back down at his side, or touch Mike again, or just wait. Will, who, despite just having been woken up, still looks devastatingly beautiful.
That thought immediately coming to him in such a natural way normally would be enough to make him spiral into an hour-long crisis, but he is exhausted, and his head is aching, and it's the middle of the night, and his heart is still pounding from that dream - that nightmare. The shame that otherwise overwhelms him for far less feels like a distant afterthought. Especially when Will is still looking at him like that, with worry, and something that Mike almost would dare to call affection, radiating from his facial expression.
"Mike", he repeats, this time speaking way softer. "It's okay. You're okay." Mike tries to respond, but he's still breathing fast like he just ran a mile and his throat feels like sandpaper, so he only manages to make a pathetic wheezing sound.
"It's okay." Will's voice is a little shaky, but he keeps talking nonetheless. "You're- We're at a motel. We're staying the night here before continuing to go get El. Jon and Argyle are just a couple rooms away."
Mike frowns, pressing the palms of his hands to his eyes to help with the headache that doesn't seem to have gotten better at all from sleeping, then clears his throat before trying to speak again. This time he manages to get his voice to work, although it comes out shrill and wobbly.
"Why are you telling me that? I know that", he points out. Will shrugs. He has lowered his hand, no longer reaching for Mike's arm. Mike does his best to pretend that doesn't upset him at all.
"It helps me when I have nightmares", Will explains. "I usually feel really disoriented, like I'm not certain whether I'm home or..." He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to for the both of them to understand what he's talking about. 'Like I'm not certain whether I'm home or back in the Upside Down.' He swallows audibly, then continues. "I thought it might help you as well."
"Well, you don't have to bother with it." Mike doesn't mean to sound snappish, but he's tired, and stressed out, and for some reason his hands won't stop shaking. The whole situation feels humiliating. He doesn't want anyone to see him like this, least of all Will. So he sits up a bit straighter, pulling his knees to his chest and taking a deep breath. "I'm fine."
"It's not a bother." The firmness of Will's voice surprises him. His best friend is looking at him, really looking, and it makes his skin crawl for all the wrong reasons. Suddenly the air feels thicker again and Mike can't help the frustrated little noise that slips past his lips as he shakes his head, trying to get his brain to function at least a little bit. Will gives him a look filled with sympathy and tentatively reaches out a hand towards him.
"Don't!" The sheer volume of Mike's voice seems to shock them both. Will stops moving and raises his hands in surrender.
"Okay, I won't. It's okay." he patiently states.
Mike feels sick to his stomach. The room, no, his own body, feels too small and restricting. His heart is still beating way too fast, and to his absolute mortification he can feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes. And despite all that, Will is sitting calmly by his side, nothing more than his worried frown and furrowed brows to show that he is at all affected by the situation unfolding in front of him.
He doesn't know what exactly it is that makes him do it. Maybe it's the lack of sleep, or the anxiety from the past couple days finally getting to him. Maybe it's those thoughts getting too strong at last. Maybe he's just weak. But he's just so exhausted, enough that he can feel it deep inside his bones. So he allows himself to lean back towards Will, pressing his forehead against the other boy's shoulder, one hand loosely holding onto his friend's shirt. He can feel Will's entire body tense for a moment, almost enough to make him pull away, but then he relaxes, one arm slowly coming up to wrap around Mike's back in a weird almost-but-not-really hug.
To his credit, Mike doesn't cry, but he still can't manage to hold back a couple pitiful sniffles, causing Will to tighten his grip around him. It's a bizarre situation, but it's the middle of the night and he was forced to share a bed with his childhood best friend who he shouldn't think about in the ways he does, so maybe it's okay. Maybe this one time, he can get to not care about being a freak for just a moment.
He's not sure how long they stay like this. He simply basks in the warmth of the boy next to him for as long as he can, inhaling the familiar scent that just simply is Will, and he has to focus on stopping himself from crying again when his brain supplies him with the thought about how Will smells more like home to him than anything else.
"This is stupid", he mutters, pulling away so he doesn't have to think about that anymore. Will immediately releases his grip around him, pulling back a bit as well to give him space.
"It's really not", he replies. Mike gives him the best deadpan look he can manage and tries to not feel too smug when it makes him chuckle softly.
"I'm nearly bawling my eyes out over a stupid dream that wasn't even that scary." he points out. "But thanks for the encouragement, I suppose."
He's pretty sure they both can tell that he's lying about how scary the dream was, but Will doesn't ask any further questions about it and he doesn't elaborate.
"As long as it makes you feel better", Will plainly states. Mike doesn't know what to reply, so he just knocks their shoulders together lightly. Will does the same thing back, and Mike's traitorous heart sings.
It's strange, he thinks, watching the way that the old flickering bedside lamp bathes parts of the room in its pale light. He should probably be freaking out more about this, should be jumping away from Will and condemning himself for letting his feelings get the best of him. But, as Will reaches out to turn the light back off and they lie down, still facing away from each other, Mike just feels more at peace than he has in a long while. He knows it's just temporary, not a turning point that makes those feelings any more okay, but a fleeting moment that is going to fade away with the night as the sun rises with a new day.
Neither of them have to say anything to confirm it, it's a mutual unspoken agreement. They know without saying it that the next morning the awkward silence will be back, lacing around them like it's the thread that's been used to weave their fate. They will keep averting their eyes whenever they look at each other for too long, conversations limited to a few short sentences exchanged with lots of time in between each back and forth.
But right now, Mike closes his eyes and allows himself to drift off next to the boy that he loves even though he shouldn't, allows himself to pretend that there are no girls or monsters or superpowers or past grievances looming over them or threatening to hurt them. For one brief moment, he tells himself that it'll all be alright, and for an even shorter one, he almost believes it.
(As he waits for sleep to claim him he muses over the fact that the ticking of that big grandfather clock they passed in the hallway earlier is loud enough to still reach his ears as if he was sleeping right next to it. It's a bit annoying, but whatever, he'll just have to deal with the noise for now. It's not like it'll kill him.)