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Will Byers is stupid.
God, Will Byers is so, so stupid.
He wants to look back at Mike. Mike who’s still holding Will’s painting. Mike who is so good. But Will already has his hand pressed against his mouth to muffle his crying, and his eyes are all wet and teary, and he doesn’t think he can give any more of himself to Mike pretending it’s about El.
He can hardly believe that Mike bought into what he’d said. Mike has always been so good at knowing when Will is hurting that Will had almost thought that Mike would be able to tell here, too. To notice that Will was talking about himself, not El. Will made that painting on his own. Will has been so lost without Mike. Will is the one who feels like a mistake.
But Mike doesn’t want to hear any of that. He’s not worried about Will, he’s worried about El. El, who Mike thinks won’t need Mike anymore after all this is over.
Will doesn’t really understand how anybody could decide that they don’t need Mike after knowing him. Mike is so special. You can’t just throw him away after being close to him. Mike is someone you want to stay close to. Or at least he’s someone that Will wants to be close to.
A deep, ugly part of Will (uglier even than the part that likes boys) kind of wants El to be done with Mike. Maybe that way Mike will go back to how he was before, back when he cared about Will. Maybe Mike will be sad, but Will could comfort him, like he comforted him just now. Maybe Mike will see past all of Will’s walls right through to how he really feels. And maybe Mike will feel the same way.
Will never gets very far down that rabbit hole, though, because he could never wish suffering on Mike. Not to mention that the line of thought quickly becomes too unrealistic to maintain. More likely is that Mike would be heartbroken, and Will would try to comfort him, but instead say something incriminating of his real emotions, and then Mike would hate him forever.
Or even more likely is that they find El, and she and Mike have a picture-perfect reunion and live happily ever after together.
Will kind of wishes that he could be more like Mike. If he could just find a girl that he’d be able to like half as much as he likes Mike, he would probably be able to make himself be more normal. Will knows that he’s different. Hell, he told Mike about it. Mike thought that he was talking about El, but still.
If he’s being honest, Will can’t decide if he’s glad or not that Mike missed the real point of what he’d been trying to say.
Would things be easier if Will turned to him and told the truth? If he rubbed at his eyes enough that the tears stopped falling and told Mike how he felt? Probably not. Will doesn’t think he could be selfish like that. Mike wants validation from El, not Will. Will’s feelings would just mess everything up.
But maybe Will could help both of them. He could keep comforting Mike and try to get some of his emotions off of his chest all at once. He’d sort of been able to tell Mike about how much he needed him earlier. Sure all Will actually told Mike was that El needed him, but sometimes words change a little bit as you say them. The meaning stays almost the same but some of the nuances change. Of course, Will needs Mike, but Mike probably likes it better when he says that El needs him instead. Maybe Will can tell Mike how he feels using El.
“El loves you,” Will tries, turning halfway back toward Mike. The words are quiet and kind of stilted, but Will is surprised enough with himself that was about to say it out loud.
“What’s that?” Mike replies, looking up from Will’s painting. He’s holding eye contact, and for a moment, Will can’t say anything at all.
But then Mike raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Will repeats himself.
“El loves you,” he says again, a little louder this time.
“Oh,” says Mike, “uh, thanks.”
“I mean, I know that you guys had a big fight earlier, and maybe it feels like there’s a rift between you now. Maybe you said something that you didn’t mean or maybe you didn’t say something that you wished you did, but your relationship isn’t beyond repair. She still loves you.”
Will’s fight with Mike from last summer plays over in his mind.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls, Mike had said, and Will had never forgotten it. Even though they’re back to being friends (bestfriends, as Mike said back in Lenora), Will doesn’t think that his relationship with Mike will ever really mend itself all the way. Because Mike has El, and Will is broken in a million different ways.
“I love you,” Mike whispers, and Will just about stops breathing.
He looks more intensely at Mike, whose hair sort of looks like it’s glowing from the sunlight filtering through the car window. He’s perfect.
Will is sure that he’s dreaming. He must have died somewhere on the highway, and now he’s in heaven. This can’t be real.
“What?” he finally chokes out.
“That’s what I never said to El.” Mike looks out the window, away from Will. “I never said ‘I love you.’ She says it to me in her letters, but I haven’t said it back in mine. I’ll tell her that I care about her or that she’s everything to me, but not that I love her, and that’s why we fought. I don’t even know why I didn’t say it. I love you. It’s not that hard to say. I can say it just fine now. I love you, I love you, I love you” Mike’s voice breaks off.
Oh.
On second thought, Will is fairly confident that he might actually be in hell. This is what he gets for using El to make himself feel better. God, he’s is the worst. He feels himself tearing up again, but just swallows hard to try and hold back the tears. Mike wouldn’t want to see Will crying. Besides, Will would probably have to explain why he’s crying, and that’s the worst thing that could ever happen. He’s sure of it.
“You can tell her that as soon as we find her then.” Will is breaking, and he hopes so much that Mike can’t tell. He just needs to get out of the van and breathe because there clearly isn’t any air in here. It’s suffocating him, and Mike is right there, and Will doesn’t think he can see straight. He just needs some space to be okay.
He pulls his knees up to his chest and pushes his fist against his mouth again. More than anything else right now, Will needs to be small. He needs to be tiny and insignificant enough to remind himself that he’s getting close to the danger zone. If Mike figures out how he really feels, their whole friendship will be over. Will just needs to get ahold of himself.
“Woah, Will, what’s wrong?” Mike asks, seemingly taking notice of Will’s struggle for the first time.
Will scrubs at his face and tries to clear his throat, “nothing, Mike, I’m just, uh, scared about El.”
“Is that all? You look really worked up.” Mike is scooting closer now, and Will doesn’t think he can take this anymore. Mike’s hand is on his shoulder, and Will feels like he’s burning up.
“And everything else I guess,” he mumbles.
“What else is there?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Will bites back, surprising himself with the amount of vitriol in his voice.
Mike pulls his hand away ( great going, Will ) and shrugs. “I don’t know, just that El has been at the front of all of our minds so I guess I didn’t realize how all of the other little things can build up around that. It must be stressful.”
Will suddenly wants to pull his hair out. Or scream. Maybe both. “The little things? Mike, I haven’t been able to reach my mom since this entire thing started. I think that’s more than just a ‘little thing.’ Maybe you don’t care about that because it doesn’t have anything to do with El, but it’s not just something you can brush aside. Not to mention–”
“What,” Mike says flatly. He sounds angry now, too. “What else?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Will says weakly. He ruins everything. They had a nice conversation going for a minute but Will had to mess it all up with his own stupidity. Stupid.
“Oh, because you think I only care about El? Is that it? You think I won’t give a shit about your problems now?”
“Well, that’s how things have been with you for a while, so I don’t see why anything is going to change now.”
“That’s not fair. We’ve already talked about this.”
“And nothing changed.” Will’s voice is straining. He hates fighting with Mike, but he doesn’t think he can stop the words from spilling out of him.
“That’s not fair,” Mike repeats.
“How on Earth is that–”
“Maybe we should stop for a few minutes,” Jonathan says suddenly, cutting Will off. “There’s a rest area a few miles ahead.”
“But what about El?” Mike asks, leaning in between Jonathan and Argyle’s seats. “We can’t stop. We have to get to her as soon as possible.”
“We will, Mike. But I feel like I’m about to fall asleep at the wheel, and I think a few minutes out of this damn van will do all of us some good.” Jonathan looks at Will through his wing mirror and half-nods at him. Oh. Jonathan is doing this for him.
Will doesn’t know how he feels about that.
–
Argyle wakes up with a start as soon as they park.
“We there already?” he asks.
“No, Jonathan’s having us take a break,” Mike says bitterly.
“Rad,” Argyle replies, looking out at the rest stop, which looks like it only has a gas station and a 7-Eleven. He gets out of the van and makes his way towards the 7-Eleven.
Jonathan gets out to fill up on gas, and then it’s just Will and Mike.
“We shouldn’t be stopping,” Mike says, “El needs us.”
“I’m sorry,” Will replies, because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“It’s like they don’t even care about her It’s– it’s like I’m the only one that cares about El.”
Will sighs and bites down on the inside of his lip. “Don’t say that, Mike. We all care. Jonathan just needed a break. He’s been driving for like eight hours straight, you can’t blame him for this.”
Mike doesn’t grace Will with a reply, just sort of broods.
“Well, I’m going to get a Slurpee or something while we’re stopped. You can join me if you want,” Will says, but Mike just looks betrayed.
“This is exactly what I’m talking about. None of you care .”
“I care, Mike, but we’re not going anywhere in the next ten minutes no matter what, so I’m going to get something to drink because we’ve been driving for ages, and I’m thirsty. Come or don’t.”
With that, Will gets out of the van, wondering if he was maybe being too harsh. He has to stop blaming Mike for acting this way about El. Will is sure he would be similarly unbearable if Mike was gone, and that’s more telling than anything else. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment like it’ll make him less of a disappointment to himself before continuing toward the rest area.
The bells over the door are a welcome sound, but Will doesn’t allow himself to really breathe until he’s sitting down against the wall in the back of the store, near the freezers and away from all the windows. This isn’t just regular, need-it-to-survive breathing, but deep, shuddering breaths that make Will feel like he’s a toddler in the middle of a breakdown. He’s probably crying a little bit. On the way back to the car, he should thank Jonathan. He really needed this time to himself.
He’s still having a small breakdown when the bells over the door jingle again.
“Will?” It’s Mike’s voice. What is Mike doing here? Will was just about positive that Mike was going to stay in the car for this.
He reigns himself in, gets ahold of his breathing and his emotions and his everything.
“In the back,” he replies, and then, when Mike walks over to him, “I didn’t think you were going to get out of the car.”
“You were right when you said that the van wasn’t going anywhere. And the van is absurdly hot.”
Will almost laughs, but in the end, it’s more of an exhale.
“What are you doing back here, anyway? Slurpees are off by the side,” Mike says, gesturing off to where Will presumes the Slurpees are. He didn’t really look for them when he walked in.
“I was overheating a little so I sort of just beelined for the freezers.” Will’s voice goes up at the end of the sentence, though, so it sounds like he’s asking a question.
Mike doesn’t reply for a moment, just looks back and forth between Will and the freezers. Finally, he says, “have you been crying?”
Will is starting to shake his head ‘no’ when Mike sits down next to him and sighs.
“I don’t like it when we fight,” Mike mumbles.
“Me neither,” replies Will quietly, and then neither of them says anything for a minute.
“When did things get this bad?” Mike says suddenly, “I feel like we used to be so.” He pauses, scrunches his eyebrows like he’s looking for the right word. “So connected.” He knocks his shoulder against Will’s. “Crazy together, remember?”
Will just nods because he doesn’t really trust himself to talk right now.
“I have a secret,” Mike says, “something that you can’t tell anybody after I tell you.”
When Will doesn’t reply, Mike keeps going.
“I’m telling you this because you’re my… you’re my best friend, right?”
“Right,” Will echoes. He has no idea what Mike is about to say, but mentally, he’s preparing himself for the worst.
“I don’t think I love El,” Mike says, and Will is dreaming again. He died of heatstroke somehow before getting to the freezers, and this is the afterlife.
“But you–” Will is floundering here.
“I mean, I love her,” Mike continues, “but I don’t think I love her like that. Like a boyfriend should love a girlfriend.”
“Oh,” Will says because he doesn’t know what else to say.
“Like I think she was the first girl that I was ever super close to, and we’ve been dating for a while, and I should love her that way, but I don’t think I do.”
He looks over to Will, eyes red.
“I don’t think I can. I care about her so much, but I don’t think I love her. Is that awful? Is there something wrong with me?”
“It’s not awful, and there’s nothing wrong with you. You can care about El without loving her like that,” Will says. He wants to reach out, but his hands feel frozen in his lap.
“But I’m different,” Mike replies, voice pleading, “I think that’s why El and I work. We’re both different.”
Will swallows hard. “How are you different, Mike?”
Mike looks around the 7-Eleven frantically, and Will tries to follow his gaze. Here, in the back of the store, it’s just the two of them. Argyle is probably in the store somewhere, and there’s a cashier at the front, but other than that, they’re alone.
“I don’t want to tell you,” Mike replies.
“Oh.”
“I don’t want to tell you,” Mike repeats, voice dropped low into a whisper, “but I think I have to, because I haven’t told anybody, not even El, and it’s eating me up inside.”
“I see,” says Will, even though he really doesn’t.
Mike takes a deep breath. “I have these thoughts sometimes, about boys.” His voice is wavering a bit.
Will feels like he can’t breathe again. Maybe there just isn’t enough air in the world for him because no matter where he goes, it feels like he’s suffocating.
“What kind of thoughts?” he asks, barely audible.
Mike looks at the ground. “The kind of thoughts that I should be having about El.”
Will is dreaming. He has to be dreaming. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. He pinches himself. Nothing happens. It’s still just him and Mike and the whirring of the freezers behind them. He’s in the afterlife, then. Maybe the freezers fell out of the wall and crushed him. This is heaven.
He has no idea what to say.
“So really, there is something wrong with me,” Mike says, and Will realizes that he hasn’t said anything yet. Mike is probably terrified, and Will isn’t helping at all.
“Um. Me too,” he says pathetically, and then promptly wants to disappear.
Mike looks at him, and Will can tell now that he started crying at some point because his eyes and cheeks look wet.
“What?” Mike replies, “no, Will, there’s nothing wrong with you. You’re… you’re perfect.”
“No, I mean, I have thoughts too sometimes. Thoughts like those.”
Mike inhales sharply, and Will is sure now that he’s said the wrong thing.
“You do? Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure,” Will says, keeping an impressive air of calm considering how quickly his worldview is unraveling. His secrets aren’t secrets anymore, and Mike is just like him.
Well, almost.
“You know the painting?” Will asks. He thinks his hands might be shaking, but he isn’t entirely sure, and he’s too caught up in looking at Mike to check.
“The one in that El commissioned? In the van? Where I’m guiding the party?”
“Yeah, that’s the one, except uh, El didn’t commission it. I know I told you that but I lied.” Will braces himself for Mike’s reaction. Will admitted it, he’s a liar. He’s sure Mike is going to ask Will what else he’s lying about. And then Mike will know.
“Whose idea was it then?” Mike asks, eyes pleading. The two of them are closer than they were a minute ago, Will is sure of it. If he focuses, he can hear Mike’s breathing over the buzzing freezers.
“Mine,” Will whispers, and Mike is so close.
“Will,” he says, “I–”
“We’re getting back on the road, brochachos,” a voice interrupts. Will looks up to see Argyle standing over them with a Slurpee in each hand. Mike stands up immediately, brushing his hands off on his pants, and Will is quick to follow. Argyle leaves without waiting for a reply, and Will starts walking toward the door when Mike grabs his wrist.
“Wait,” Mike says, voice strangled. As soon as Will turns around, he drops his wrist. Absentmindedly, Will wraps his fingers around the skin that Mike touched.
“Yeah?”
“I think that I latched onto El at first, when you…” Mike trails off, but Will can finish the sentence on his own. When I disappeared.
“That’s okay, Mike,” he replies.
“No, I mean, you were gone, and she was there so I just stuck to her. I couldn’t be there for you, so I was there for her instead. I latched on. But then you came back, and I stayed latched to her. I could be there for you, but I wasn’t. Not really.”
“That’s– that’s okay.”
“You don’t get it,” Mike says, and he sounds distressed. “I’m trying to say that I care about you.”
“You’re the heart, Mike. I know that you care.” Will smiles at him as he says it.
“I think that I care about you the way that I should care about El,” Mike says, and Will just about stops breathing.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Mike just nods, and Will doesn’t know what to do. His arms are stiff at his sides, but Mike looks so small (which is stupid, since he’s probably taller than Will), and Will feels like he has to do something. Awkwardly, he steps forward and wraps his arms around Mike.
It seems to take Mike a second to recognize the embrace for what it is, but as soon as he does, he’s hugging Will back.
“I care about you, too,” Will whispers into the crook of Mike’s neck. “In the same way.”
Mike hugs him tighter, and they just stand there for a minute before Will lets go. Will kind of wants to kiss Mike, but they’re in public, and the time doesn’t feel right. Boys don’t kiss boys in the Middle of Nowhere, Nevada, and he knows that Argyle and Mike are waiting. El’s waiting, too, and they’ve definitely kept her waiting long enough.
“We should get back,” Will says, and Mike nods. They shuffle out of the store without buying anything and file back into the backseat of the van.
As Will is settling back into his seat, Mike takes his hand and holds it. Will looks up to the wing mirror and sees that Jonathan is looking at the two of them. He’s smiling at him. Will smiles back.
He doesn’t really feel stupid anymore, not with the way that Mike is looking at Will’s painting with new eyes. Their fingers are still interlocked.
They’re going to find El, and Will has a feeling that everything is going to be okay.
For the first time in a long time, he feels okay.