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El is in her room. She won't talk to Will, and she won't talk to Mike, either. Will can tell Mike was starting to really panic. He kept coming into Will's room to pace, to rant, to ramble on and on about how he messed everything up with El.
"I don't think-" Will would try to reason, but Mike would continue anyway, ignoring any advice or reassurance Will had to offer. Will wondered why Mike wanted to tell him all of this in the first place. It was his girlfriend. Not Will's. It wasn't his problem. It wasn't his relationship to fix.
"And she thinks I don't love her!" Mike said, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation, before running them through his hair, sighing loudly. "I can't believe she thinks I don't love her! I mean, what, she's saved the world how many times? She's totally amazing! Why can't she see that?"
Will chose not to point out that being 'totally amazing' and being 'totally in love' were two very different things. He listened, waiting almost impatiently for Mike to finish.
"I don't want to tell her," he said.
"Why?" Will asked suddenly. As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Mike was looking at him now, eyes wide, eyebrows shot up, surprised.
"Why?" Mike asked.
"Why," Will said. "Why don't you want to tell her?" shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut- "I mean, you do love her, right?"
"O-of course I do!" Mike stammered, quickly protesting. "Why? Do you think I don't? Why would you think I didn't love her? She's like, she's like the whole world to me! Of-of course I feel that way about her!"
"You don't say it," Will pointed out.
Mike huffed, almost defensively, and he said, "I say it! I'm saying it right now!"
"To me," Will said. "Not to El. Why can't you say it to El?"
Mike's shoulders fell, like he was giving up, Will felt a sharp jab of guilt in his gut. He shouldn't be accusing Mike like this. But really, this is what Mike wanted. Right? He wanted advice, didn't he? Or else, why did he want Will to listen to his stupid relationship problems?
"It's different." Mike sighed.
"Different," Will echoed. "Different how?"
"It just is!"
"Okay," Will agreed, sarcastically. He shrugged, "so it's different. For no good reason other than it just is. Got it. So, what are you going to do about it?"
Mike frowned, "do about it?"
Will resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was Mike really this dense? Of course he had to do something about it, if he wanted El to no longer be mad at him anymore. He said, "yeah, Mike. What are you going to do about it?"
Mike suddenly looked so lost, so scared. He walked closer to Will, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him, and he said, "I don't know."
"Okay, that's okay," Will said gently now definitely feeling bad for pressuring Mike. "It's okay. You can tell her how you feel when you're ready."
"I don't want to," Mike admitted, his voice quiet, almost impossible to hear. Will was wondering for a brief moment if he misheard him, but Mike continued, "I don't think I want to tell her."
"Okay." Will said, wanting so badly to ask him, 'why not' but refraining himself. "So you don't want to tell her. That's fine. Okay. It's okay Mike, really." now he was the one rambling.
"I don't know what I feel." Mike said.
"Oh."
Mike was looking at him now. Suddenly, Will felt crawly, and confused, and he wanted to escape. He felt like he was on dangerous footing, and he needed to get back to something comfortable, something not as confusing or as conflicting as this -whatever this was- is.
"Will."
"Uh. Yeah?"
"What were you painting?"
Will frowned. "What do you mean?"
Mike looked away and shrugged. He looked awkward, embarrassed. "I don't know," he said. "El said in one of her letters you were painting something for a girl."
Did El tell him that?
Why did El think he was painting something for a girl?
Will felt his heart beat faster, and his hands suddenly felt clammy and shaky. He didn't know what to say. He could lie. He should lie. It's safer that way. Lying. Yes, he decided. He would absolutely lie, because he didn't have any other choice but to lie. Lie, lie, lie.
"Uh." he said intelligently.
"Is it?" Mike asked, his voice suddenly louder than before, more desperate, even. He was looking at Will again, something in his gaze that Will didn't understand. "Is it for a girl?"
"I don't. . ." Will's voice trailed off as he searched for something, anything, to say in response to what Mike just asked him. He felt more and more nervous as the time ticked on, painfully slow. Mike was still looking at him, waiting for Will to give him an answer. An answer that, no matter what it was, he couldn't give truthfully.
"Is it," Mike pressed, leaning a little closer now, "for a girl, Will?"
"I-"
Will's bedroom door squeaked open. Mike flinched, and leaped a couple of inches away from Will, looking at Joyce with an awkward smile, and a flushed face, as if she caught him doing something he shouldn't.
Joyce said, "I'm getting ready to leave."
"For your business trip?"
She nodded, biting her lip. Will wondered briefly if there was no business trip. Joyce was acting weird, and oddly excited and nervous about it. But he brushed it off. She wouldn't lie to them. She didn't have a reason to.
"Need help packing?" Will asked.
Joyce looked at him, then looked at Mike. She smiled and shook her head. "I'll be fine," she said. "Will you two boys be okay while I'm gone?"
"Of course," Will said quickly, speaking before Mike. "We'll be fine."
Mike nodded. He nodded a little too quickly for a little too long. "Fine," he agreed, his voice squeaky. "We'll be fine."
Joyce didn't look convinced. "Okay," she said. "Um. Just remember, Jonathan is in charge while I'm gone. Listen to everything he says-"
"I know, mom," Will said, for some reason in a hurry for her to leave, though desperate for her to stay longer, worried about what Mike would say once she was out of earshot. He didn't even know why he was worried about it. It wasn't like something happened between him and Mike. It wasn't like something was going to, either. Joyce didn't interrupt anything, as much as Will wished she did. "I'll listen to everything he says."
"Okay," she said quickly. "Okay. Love you."
"Love you, too."
She closed the door. It shut with a slight, soft click, and yet somehow the noise was deafening, swallowing Will whole.
"Uh. Sorry." Mike said.
"What for?"
"Sorry for. I don't know. Dumping all my problems on you," Mike said. Will couldn't help but feel disappointed. He wasn't surprised, not really. Of course all of this was about El. Nothing more. Why did he even think it would be anything more. "And," Mike continued, almost shy, "sorry for pushing you about the, uh, painting thing. It doesn't matter if the painting is for a girl. I guess I got jealous."
Will's heart skipped a beat. Hope flared in his chest. A dangerous emotion, hope was. Even more dangerous than all the emotions he felt for Mike. Hope made him think there was something there that wasn't, that would never be there, no matter how hard he looked for it. "Jealous?"
Mike turned to face him, face him properly this time. "Yeah." he said. "I was being a real asshole. I guess I don't like the idea of some random girl seeing any of your paintings."
Will swallowed thickly. He shouldn't ask. He did, anyway. "Why?"
Mike opened his mouth, yet nothing came out. He closed it again, and he stared. His breathing quickened. Will caught it. Hope, yet again. Damned hope. His chest ached. He wanted Mike to say something. Even if that something would take that spark of hope and drench it in brutally cold water. Whatever. Just something to fill in the thick silence that stretched on between them.
"Why?" he asked again.
And Mike kissed him.
It was a quick kiss, a simple peck, really, and Mike leaned away. More like jumped away, but it was a kiss. And with that kiss, Mike took any coherent thoughts away from Will, along with his breath. Snatched it.
"I," Mike gasped. "Shit. Shit, oh, shit."
"Mike."
Mike stood up, pacing in front of Will's bed, his hands not running through his hair as much as they were yanking at it. "Shit! I'm. Shit." he looked at Will, and halted.
"Mike." Will said again.
"Shit."
Mike left. He just left. He left Will sitting on his bed, staring at nothing, and thinking. Thinking was a dangerous thing. Almost as dangerous as hope. Mike kissed him. Mike kissed him.
"Shit," he said, repeating Mike's words. It echoed in his empty bedroom.
Will never approved of Jonathan's new problem solver. Most of the time, this last year, his older brother was stoned. Joyce didn't even notice it. When El asked Jonathan about it, noticing right away that something was different, Jonathan told her it was perfectly safe and healthy, but not to tell Joyce. He didn't talk to Will about it. He never talked to Will about anything, anymore.
"This van stinks," Mike complained, leaning against the window. "Are they stoned right this second?"
Will waited, waiting for Jonathan or Argyle to say something.
"Dude," Argyle said, coughing a little as he spoke. "So like. This girl. Got like. Arrested. And now we're trying to find her. Because she. Isn't arrested?"
"The, uh, guns shot up our house," Jonathan added, laughing a little. "Wow. That's the third time our house got destroyed. Hey, uh, Will! Remember how many times we totally destroyed our house back in Hawkins?"
Will sighed, playing along for him. "I remember. I wonder what's it like, sitting there. Probably not destroyed. Our home, in tip top condition."
Mike looked at Will, curiosity in his eyes. Will knew that 'home' didn't go unnoticed by his friend.
"Okay, okay, but this girl," Argyle said. "Was arrested. Now isn't. And the government is after her? And we are. What. Chasing after her?"
"She's important," Jonathan said. "But I can't remember why."
Will said to Mike, "yeah, I think they're high at this very second."
Mike rolled his eyes. "I got that. Thanks." He looked outside the window. He as stretched as far away from Will as physically possible. It hurt.
They didn't talk about it.
Will wished they would.
"So like. I know this shit is like. Crazy and all," Argyle said. "But uh, dude. I don't think your brother and his boyfriend want to sleep in this van, dude. They says it stinks, or something."
"It smells like some hippie died in here!" Mike said.
Argyle huffed, sounding slightly offended. "In case you forgot, someone did die in here, dudes! And whos fault is that? I assure you, ain't no one ever died in my baby before that man. Nope."
"We'll stop at a hotel," Jonathan said.
Will said, "are you sure that's a good idea?"
"I've got money," Jonathan said.
Will scoffed. He said, "what, money you haven't spent on weed, yet?"
As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back. Maybe he was being a little too hard on Jonathan. Jonathan didn't tell him things anymore. He used weed as an escape from something. Will wished Jonathan would let him help, but it's not like he's been all that open and honest with Jonathan, either.
"A hotel sounds nice," Mike murmured.
Will sighed and gave in. "Fine. Hotel it is."
"Yes!" Argyle cheered. "I know a really good one, who doesn't care if you smoke in any of the rooms, man! Total American freedom right there, I say. Why do hotels get picky about pets and weed? Shoot, some get all antsy about alcohol! Where's the American freedom in that?"
Will wished they would get to a hotel faster.
Mike told Jonathan he refused to smell the stench of weed the whole night he was trying to sleep. So, Jonathan booked two rooms. One for him and Argyle, and one for Will and Mike.
He tossed Mike the keys to his room. "Room 209," he said. "We're the room directly across from you. So if you need anything, all you got to do is knock."
Mike nodded. "Got it."
Mike struggled unlocking the room to the door. Once he did, he and Will stared. There, in the middle of the impressively tidy, yet cramped, room was a single double sized bed, with two pillows, that looked almost soft, almost comfortable, as if they meant to mock him.
"Oh." Mike said.
Will and Mike used to share a bed when they were younger. Now, apparently, it was a big deal to Mike, because he stood there, gawking, red in the face.
"No problem," Will said, "I'll take the floor. Just give me one of the pillows."
"No!" Mike said quickly.
Will stopped, and looked back at him. "No?" he said. There it was again, that feeling, that stupid, useless feeling of hope sparking inside him, fluttering in his stomach, his chest.
"Uh. I mean. Who cares. It's big enough. Besides, Argyle and Jonathan are probably doing it. Sharing weed and sharing a bed, ha. I guess that's what it's like for them. Sharing is caring, or whatever."
Will just stared stupidly.
Mike continued to stutter, turning even redder. "Besides. this floor?" he stomped his foot on it, probably pissing off whoever was underneath them. He stomped again, double pissing them off, for emphasis. "It's hard as hell. Ain't no way either of us should be sleeping on that. Especially with a long road trip ahead of us, we'd be so damn sore, dude. So uh. We can just... we can just share?" he said that last bit like it was a question, not looking at Will but keeping his gaze fixed on his feet.
Will noticed that even the tips of his ears were red.
"Share." Will repeated.
"Or, don't," Mike said, scoffing. Suddenly, he was no longer shy, but angry. He rolled his eyes, "be dramatic. Whatever. Sleep on the floor if you want. I don't care. I don't." he definitely did care. He flopped down on the bed, and grabbed one of the pillows, throwing it at Will. "If you complain about your back hurting tomorrow, Byers, so help me." he grumbled, before turning away from Will.
Will didn't understand what he did wrong.
Why was Mike acting like this?
Mike kissed him. Not Will. Now it was like Mike was punishing him. Maybe the kiss was some sort of punishment, too. Maybe Mike knew how Will felt about him, and just wanted to make him feel like garbage because of it. Like it was Will's fault Mike kissed him, and that it was Will's fault he had that argument with El.
He put the pillow on the floor and lied down, staring at the ceiling. Mike was right. The floor was uncomfortable. He tried not to think about it.
Mike turned the lamp off. Silence, and not at all peaceful silence, filled the room.
Will didn't cry.
He wouldn't cry. Not with Mike a few feet away from him.
"Will?" Mike asked, suddenly, breaking the silence.
"What."
"Would you just get up here?" Mike asked quietly, sounding like he himself was about to cry. "Please. I don't want you on the floor. Don't be stubborn."
He should have said no. He should have dealt with the stupid floor. Maybe it was because he hated himself, and thought he should be punished for how he felt, but something made Will say, "sure. Okay."
He got up and grabbed his pillow, putting it on the bed, and very carefully lied down, careful to leave as much space between him and Mike as possible. He grabbed the sheets and pulled them over him.
"Sorry." Mike said in a whisper.
"Why?"
He was asking that a lot, lately.
"I've been a real asshole," Mike said. Will wouldn't say it out loud, but he agreed.
"It's fine," Will said, unable to fight back a smile. Maybe everything was going to be okay between them after all. Maybe he was worrying about it for nothing.
"I just hope El can forgive me," Mike whispered, his voice breaking. That little flutter of hope, it died. Falling flat, hard and heavy, in Will's stomach.
Of course this was about El. He didn't see how it was about El, but to Mike, everything was about El. Mike was being a total asshole, and it was about El. Mike kissed him, and it was about El.
"I'm sure she will," he said stiffly, rolling over to his side, facing the wall. He felt his eyes grow hot and watery. He cursed himself for feeling this way. It was stupid. He was stupid for even thinking. . . even for just a moment. . . "I'm sure you two will be happy together," he said, and now he was the one being an asshole.
"Will, shit, wait-"
"'night, Mike," Will said. "We have a long trip ahead of us. Like you said. So, let me sleep, please."
"Okay," Mike said, sounding small and disappointed. "Okay, Will."
Will woke up in the middle of the night to Mike pressed against him, his nose sharply probing his neck. His stomach turned. "Damnit, Mike," he muttered under his breath. He carefully pulled out of Mike's grip, and looked back. Mike snorted and pushed his face into Will's pillow.
Will went to hide in the bathroom. He said to himself over and over that there was nothing going on between him and Mike. Nothing reciprocated, anyway.
Will stayed in the bathroom until morning. When he heard Mike waking up, he finally opened the door and stumbled out.
"Will?" Mike yawned. "What time is it, god."
Will looked at the alarm clock on the desk beside the bed. "Seven," he said. "I think we should wake the others up, if they aren't already."
"Shit. Yeah, you're right."
Will leaves the hotel and knocks loudly on Jonathan's. Argyle opened it. "Ah, good! You're awake! Is the other one awake, too?"
Will said, "yeah, he's using the bathroom."
Argyle said, "me and Jon' were thinking we'd have some of that breakfast they serve downstairs," he laughed. "What do you say?"
Will realized he hadn't eaten anything since yesterday morning, and at the mention of food, his stomach grumbled loudly. Argyle only laughed louder.
"Good idea."
The four boys each get a plate of sausage and scrambled eggs. Both looking burnt, but they all were too hungry to care. Will accidentally brushed against Mike's hand, both reaching for the plastic forks.
"Er, sorry!" Mike said, yanking his hand back as if Will burnt him. "You first."
Will frowned, feeling more confused than ever. He grabbed a fork and then sat down at the nearest table, afar from Jonathan and Argyle, who both were definitely high. He wondered how no one else around them realized it. Although, it was only an elderly couple and a young woman with them.
Mike sat down next to Will.
"This looks like shit," he said.
Will had to agree there. "It's fine, it's food."
"I guess."
Of course it would be Mike to complain, Will thought bitterly, then felt guilty for thinking it. Mike's just been confusing him lately. But it wasn't his fault. Mike didn't want Will to be thinking about the things he was thinking about. He busied himself by stuffing a forkful of eggs into his mouth. They tasted about as awful as they looked. He swallowed.
"I hope I don't get food poisoning from this," Mike grumbled, taking a bite of sausage. He immediately recoiled, but he didn't spat it out. He swallowed and made a face. "Gross."
Will snorted.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing." Will said, holding back a laugh, but helpless against the stupid grin on his face. Sometimes he remembered why he felt the way he did for Mike.
Mike was smiling too, but it was different. It was more tender. Suddenly, Will lost his appetite. He felt like it he couldn't breath. Like he shouldn't even dare to. "Mike?"
"Sorry," Mike murmured, finally looking away. "Just, thinking."
Thinking.
Will wished he could read minds. He would do anything to know what Mike was thinking about.
"You two about ready?" Jonathan asked, walking to their table.
Mike said, "calm down. I haven't even ate my eggs yet." then, Mike frowned, looking down at his plate, and he muttered under his breath, "and I'm not sure I want to."
Jonathan tossed his paper plate in the trash and looked at Will, then at Mike, before making his way back to the breakfast area and making him a cup of coffee.
"Will."
"Yes?"
"How come you weren't in bed last night?" Mike asked.
"I-" Will swallowed, hating the way Mike was looking at him. As if Will did something wrong. "Were you awake?" he asked, silently, not even daring to blink.
"Yeah," Mike said.
Will wondered for how long was he awake. "I-"
"Did I do something?" Mike asked quietly, leaning a little closer. He looked so hurt. Will didn't know what to do. "Did I do something wrong, Will?"
"What? No." Will said.
"Then why?" Mike asked. "Why do you keep doing this?"
"Doing what?" Will asked, suddenly feeling too much. Too much hope. Too much love. He leaned away from Mike, wanting to be as far away from him and his searching gaze as he could.
"That." Mike said sadly. "That."
Will didn't understand. "Mike-"
Mike wasn't looking at him anymore. With his shoulders slumping, Mike quickly finished his eggs, wincing at every burnt, bitter bite, and then he stood up, pushing his chair back, not giving Will a second glance as he threw his plate away, and then marched out of the dining area, muttering something to Argyle as he left.
Jonathan returned from the coffee table, sipping at his coffee. "This tastes way better than the eggs," he concluded. Then, he looked at Will, and noticed Mike wasn't there with him. "Where did Mike go?"
Will sullenly ate his eggs in silence, not wanting to answer that question.
"He said he was waiting in the van," Argyle said.
Jonathan looked confused. He gulped down his coffee, and with a burp he said, "I thought he hated the van. He complained about it more than the rest of us."
Apparently, Will thought bitterly, the van that reeked of sweat, pizza, and weed was far better in Mike's opinion than being around Will. He got the message. He finished his eggs and tossed his plate. "Are we ready to go?"
Argyle said, "don't you want coffee dude?"
"No."
Argyle made a face, "damn dude, what's got you in a sour mood?"
Will didn't respond.
Argyle shrugged. "Whatever. Your loss. Meanwhile, while you go mope about you and mullet's lover's quarrel, I'm going to get me some of this coffee. It's free, man! Can't go wrong with free." Argyle laughed as he headed over to the coffee table, grabbing one of the plastic cups from the stack.
Will grumbled and crossed his arms.
"Will," Jonathan said. "I'm sorry about what he said. I can tell him to stop it. He doesn't know what he's talking about, okay? So don't take it the wrong way-"
Will snapped at him, "you're right, he doesn't know what he's talking about."
Jonathan looked surprised, hurt even. Another thing for Will to feel guilty about. He didn't get more than maybe two hours of sleep last night, hiding cowardly in the bathroom and waiting for morning to come. But just because he was tired, and just because Mike's been making him feel so confused, doesn't mean he should take it out on his brother.
"I'm-I'm sorry." Will said, meaning it.
"I know," Jonathan said. He smiled, but it felt forced. "It's okay. I understand."
No, Will wanted so badly to say. No, you don't understand.
Argyle came back with a steaming cup of coffee and a wide, proud grin on his face. "I put so much sugar in this," he boasted, taking a chug. He pulled the cup back and sputtered, sticking his tongue out. "Hot, hot, hot!"
"Dudes," Argyle began, swerving around a pot hole, sending Will crashing into Mike. He pushed back immediately, apologizing. "I know I should stop asking this. But, why are we chasing after some girl so we can chase after some other girl with superpowers?"
"Suzie can help," Mike said.
"Okay. Uh, but with what, dude?"
"Doesn't matter," Mike muttered. "If we want to find El, we need here."
"Gotcha." said Argyle. "I totally get you, crystal clear, dude. But, just so we're clear here. . ."
Mike groaned, "can you just drive!?"
"Drive," Argyle nodded. "Got it."
Pointless, Will thought to himself, risking a glance at Mike, only to find that Mike was also looking at him. Mike quickly looked away, focusing on the scenery of absolutely nothing outside the window. Pointless, pointless, pointless.
Argyle stopped for gas. Jonathan was smoking some stash of weed Argyle had hidden under the passengers seat. Will wanted to scream at him, to smack it away. He didn't. Instead, he told Jonathan he was going to go for a walk, to stretch his legs. He needed to get away.
"Are you sure?" Jonathan asked.
"Very," Will huffed bitterly.
"But what if someone sees you?" Jonathan pointed out.
Will gestured to their surroundings. Besides a mostly beat up and abandoned gas station, there was absolutely nothing around them but sand, sand, and more sand. "I think I'll be fine," he said.
"Okay," Jonathan said. He sounded like he wanted to say something else. He looked at Will as if he was worried. Maybe he was. Maybe it was just the weed and the redness of his eyes that made Will think Jonathan cared.
"I'll go with you," Mike piped up.
Just what Will needed. He didn't decline. If he declined, then Jonathan would know something was wrong.
"Fine." He said. "Let's go."
Will and Mike walked side by side, further and further away from the van, in complete silence. Will no longer allowed himself to hope. Mike probably just wanted to get away from the weed as well. He knew Mike was about as fed up with Jonathan and Argyle as he was.
"So, uh," Mike said quietly, kicking sand as he walked. "How long has your brother been like this?" he asked, finally looking up and at Will, curious.
"What, stoned?" Will asked.
"Um." Mike seemed to have caught the hint. "If it's like, a personal subject, you just have to say so. I know it's none of my business," he said. "Just. . . I've been throwing all of my personal shit at you since I got here. So, I think you should, too. That way we're even."
Ah. Will understood now. If they were even, then Will was supposed to forget about Mike kissing him. Forget about Mike practically cuddling him while admittingly being fully aware of it. He wanted to laugh, to cry, to scream. He wanted to shake Mike by the shoulders and make him understand why all of this was driving him insane.
"Jonathan's been upset about something," Will said, letting it all out, because that's what Mike wants, all of their emotional baggage out and vulnerable between them, only for it to never be addressed again. "He won't talk to me about it. It's whatever, we don't talk about things like we should. I don't know what he's hiding, but yeah. He's stoned most of the time, now."
"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry." Mike said.
"Yeah. I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you have to deal with what my brother has become."
"Shit, no," Mike said quickly. "I didn't mean it like that, Will. It's just, Nancy, it's very different with Nancy-"
"Yeah. She doesn't disappoint you." Will was being unfair to Mike and unfair to Jonathan. He wished he got proper sleep last night. He could barely think straight anymore. "Sorry, that wasn't right. I shouldn't have said that. It's not your problem, Mike. It's mine."
Suddenly, Mike grabbed Will's shoulders, forcing him to halt. "It's not your problem." Mike said slowly, as if wanting to make sure Will understood what he was saying. "It's not your fault at all. Okay? Jonathan's probably just really confused about something, hell! Maybe he's been really confused about something for a while. Like, years worth of a while, and he doesn't know how to express it besides being a total asshole."
Will froze. He watched Mike, searching for anything in his expression that might give away what he was thinking, what he was feeling, what he meant.
"Maybe he just needs time," Mike continued, swallowing audibly. "Maybe he doesn't mean to upset you, but he doesn't know how to, because you won't tell him. You won't tell him what you want."
Will couldn't take it any more. He accused, "you aren't talking about Jonathan, Mike."
Mike's eyes widened, and his lips parted. He licked them, an awkward little twitch, a sign of nervousness. "What do you mean."
Will said, "you. Aren't talking. About Jonathan, Mike."
Mike shook his head, muttering something under his breath Will couldn't catch. Will did it again. He was pushing his feelings onto Mike. He was being selfish. He opened his mouth to apologize, not wanting this tension between him and Mike anymore, just longing for how they used to be, easy and friends, when Mike grabbed his face and kissed him. Will squeaked, surprised.
It wasn't a quick peck this time.
It was hard, the angle was a little awkward, and it was desperate, as if Mike wanted to say something to Will, something he felt he couldn't. He pulled back and breathed, "Will. You don't kiss back."
"Sorry?" Will asked, still stunned.
Mike kissed him again, quicker this time. Will stood there, completely frozen in shock, his heart pounding in his ears, his stomach swooping uncomfortably, fluttery, and there it was again, hope flaming in his chest, burning him alive. This was too much. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.
Mike kissed him a third time, gentle this time, and this time, Will allowed himself this. He allowed himself this one kiss, allowed himself to kiss back. Just as he did, Mike pulled away, his face flushed, and a smile on his face.
"You did that time," he said.
Will was so lost in thought he didn't even know what Mike was talking about.
"Byers!" he heard Argyle shout from far away in the distance. "We are about to get back on the road my dudes! Hurry up with whatever you're doing!"
"Shit," Mike said.
There was that word again. He said it last time he kissed Will. He was making that same, regretful face. Will was tired of feeling disappointed. Why did he even let himself think Mike wanted to kiss him?
Punishment. He realized.
"Shit," Mike said again. Will wanted to rip his ears off. He hated himself. He hated that kiss. He hated that part of him that wanted Mike to kiss him again, wanted Mike to hold him, wanted Mike to feel for him the way he felt for Mike. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
"Come on," Mike said. "Before the stoners start yelling at us again."
Will was going to cry.
He walked behind Mike so Mike couldn't hear the raggedness of his breathing, or see the tears in his eyes that blurred his vision. Mike didn't see him like that. So why was Mike doing this to him? When they reached the van, Mike hopped in.
"I'm going to use the bathroom," Will blurted out.
Argyle, who was just about to shut the door, said, "you want to use the bathroom in there, man?" he said, pointing at the gas station. "Probably grosser than I can imagine."
Will knew he was right.
"Just pee out here," Argyle said.
"No. Thanks. I'll be right back." Will hurried inside the gas station. The only one there was the poor teenage girl who had to work behind the counter. She looked about as happy to be there as Will was. He went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. It wasn't as bad as Argyle said it would be. Probably wasn't enough people using it for it to get too bad, anyway.
Will slid down against the door and hugged his knees close to his chest, burying his face in his knees, and started to cry.
"You were in there for like, twenty minutes," Mike hissed as Will slid the door shut. Immediately, Argyle jerked the van into action, clumsily driving onto the road. "Your eyes are red," Mike said. It was like he was accusing him of a crime. "Why are your eyes red, Will?"
"Does it matter?" Will said.
Mike said, "it does. Why are they red?" and was he trying to interrogate him? "Were you crying, Will?" he asked. He leaned closer pressing, "were you?"
Will was about to tell Mike to leave him alone, but Jonathan did it for him. He shouted, "hey, you two! Enough talking. You're distracting the driver."
Mike rolled his eyes, "Argyle doesn't care."
"Uh?" Argyle said, offense to it. "I absolutely do care, dudes. Oh, hey! who wants to listen to some music? Good ole tunes always calm my nerves when I'm on the road."
"No!" Mike and Will shouted at him at the same time.
"Sure man," Jonathan said.
Will and Mike suffered in the back of the stinky van, listening to I Smoke Dope by The Gears.
They stopped at another hotel at three in the morning. Argyle kept assisting he would drive for as long as he could. Seems like three AM was his limit.
Jonathan booked the rooms again, leaving Will and Mike alone in their own room, with just one bed.
"I'll sleep on the floor." Will insisted, pushing past Mike and grabbing one of the pillows, throwing it onto the floor with more force than he meant. He sat down and smoothed the pillow out, refusing to look at Mike.
"No, you won't," Mike sighed.
"I will." Will said. "I don't want to share."
"Why are you being like this?" Mike said defensively.
"Like what?" Will shot back, finally turning to look at Mike. He's been trying so hard not to get angry at Mike, not to blame Mike for how he was feeling. But it was Mike who was playing with his feelings. It was Mike who kissed him, and it was Mike who kissed him again. "Like what, Mike?"
"Stubborn!"
"About what?" Will said.
"You won't even listen to me!"
"There's nothing to listen to," Will said. "It's not like you say anything!"
"I'm trying," Mike said. "I am trying."
Will looked away, hot in the face. He didn't want to cry again. Not now. Not in front of Mike. Not when he was this weak, this fragile. "I get it." he said. And he did. He understood. Maybe he really was just selfish. "You suck at telling people things. You know that?"
"I know that!"
"So just, stop using me to make yourself feel better about El," Will said, finally giving in to all his pent up anger. "I'm not going to be your punching bag because you can't say what she wants you to say!"
"Using you?" Mike asked quietly, his eyes wide. "Using you?" he asked again, as if stunned. "Is that what I'm doing?" he asked, suddenly his voice hoarse and tearful.
"I-" Will stopped.
"I don't want to use you," Mike said gently.
Will didn't understand.
Every time he thought he understood what Mike was feeling, that he was just stressed because of his fight with El, Mike says something else. As if he wanted to toy with Will. As if he wanted to make him feel like nothing.
"You," Will said, pointing at Mike, trying desperately to keep his voice calm. It cracked anyway. "Have been confusing me all week."
Mike laughs. Laughs like he couldn't believe what he's hearing. "I'm confusing you?" he said. He shook his head. "No, you've been confusing the hell out of me!"
"How have I been confusing you?" Will demanded. "Tell me."
Mike said, "because, you act like you're being patient, and then you get mad at me because I can't say what I want to!" he paused, swallowing, "how is that fair?"
"If you can't tell El you love her, how is that my problem?" Will asked, "how is it my problem, Mike? I'm not here to make all your issues go away. I'm not fixing his for you."
"I don't want to tell her that!" Mike said.
"Then don't," Will couldn't take it anymore. He needed to get leave. He needed to leave this room. He needed to be as far away from Mike as he could. "Then don't tell her. But don't take it out on me."
He turned to leave. Mike sprung forward and grabbed his arm. "Will, wait."
Will tried to steady his rapid breathing. "What?"
"You didn't answer my question," Mike said softly, as if all the fight had been drained out of him.
"What question?"
"Was it for a girl?" Mike asked quietly. His grip on Will's arm loosened, his hand gently sliding down, grabbing Will's hand, and holding it.
Will stared at him. "Was what for a girl?"
"The painting," Mike stammered. "Was the painting for a girl?"
Will almost forgot about Mike thinking the painting was for a girl. He almost forgot about the painting. This whole thing has been so confusing. "I..."
"Or was it for me?" Mike asked, something bright in his voice. "Was it for me, Will?"
Will couldn't hold it in anymore. He started to cry. Mike immediately said, "oh, no, that's not what I... that's not what I meant, Will," his grip on Will's hand tightened, and he pulled him even closer. "I want it to be for me," Mike said. "I was jealous because I thought it wasn't for me. Is it, Will? Is it for me?"
Will sniffed and nodded.
"Okay," Mike breathed. He sounded stunned. "Okay." he said again, like he couldn't quite believe it. How was he so happy about all of this? Will's breathing steadied. "Will. I don't. Shit, wait, did you think I was just...?"
"Using me," Will whispered, too tired to argue anymore. "Sorry, Mike. I, I'll try to stop feeling that way, I promise. I won't get in the way of you and El-"
"Me and El? Dude. Were you not paying attention? I don't. I can't say what El wants because..." Mike sucked in a deep breath. "Because I want to say it to you."
"Why?"
Will asked that a lot. But he needed to know.
"Because," Mike said, and he grabbed Will's other hand. "Because I love you." he said. "You, Will. Not El. Well, I love El. But more as a friend. A best friend, maybe, she's awesome, like I said. But not like I love you, which is very differently from how I love El. You feel the same, right? I thought you did. Maybe. But then you kept pushing me away. You didn't want to share the bed, and you never looked happy when I kissed you."
Will couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he was too tired to care, too tired to question. He said, "I think we can share the bed, now."
"Yeah?" Mike said, a stupid smile on his face.
"Yeah."
"Okay. I would like that."
"Me too."
"I think I'd like to kiss you again," Mike said. "Not now. Right now I'm tired. It's like, probably going on four, now. But um. Tomorrow. And after that. And forever, maybe. I don't know, if that's what you want."
"Yes," Will said.
"Are you sure?"
Will's never been as sure about anything as he was about this. "Yes, yes, yes," Mike was laughing, an adoring kind of laugh, Will realized, and Will kept saying it, over and over, until both of them were fast asleep, curled closely to each other. Will slept better that night than he did in days.