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Will Byers awakes in a bed he’s familiar with, but in a room he knows he didn’t fall asleep in. The room is the same as he remembers. The walls are still the same pale yellow and laced with memories. The window in front of his bed is frosted over with ice. The cold seeps in and tries to cling to him, and even though Will is buried in his blue blanket, it still seems to find him. The winter chill licks at his cheeks tinting them a soft pink.
Will can hear muffled shouting coming from what he assumes is the living room . The softer voice is his mother’s, he can tell because of the protectiveness that comes off in her tone. She only sounds like that with one person. Will’s stomach curdles with dread as he realizes who she is arguing with. He knows he assumed correctly when the deeper voice leaks through the walls– it’s his father.
Will can hear glass shattering and a cry come from the lighter voice, and Will now knows what’s happening. He knows this memory like the back of his hand after having to relive it so frequently. The glass shattering is from one of the beer bottles Lonnie must have been downing. He had thrown it against the wall as a sign of frustration and to frighten Joyce.
Will braces himself for what is to come. He can hear the pounding of angry and drunk footsteps nearing his door. He can smell the harshness of the nicotine before the door is even open. He prepares himself for the rough arm that is going to pull him out of bed and drag him to the living room. He prepares for the profanities that will be thrown at him. He prepares for the judgment that will be dripping from his father’s words because of Will’s interests, friends, and anything else that makes Will who he is.
The words hand never clenches down on his arm leaving a bruise. The words never find their way into his brain affecting the way he thinks about himself. Instead, he is pulled back to reality by a dark-haired figure hoving from above him. The light blinds him momentarily before Will remembers he isn’t trapped in that house with his father. He is on Mike Wheeler’s floor. The sleeping bag is wet with sweat, and he can feel his hair sticking to his face. He can feel the saltiness of his tears soaking his lips between gasps of breath.
“Will?” Mike whispers causing Will to focus back on the boy above him. There is concern written in each pour on the boy’s face. His lips are arched in a small frown. Dark eyes search Will’s for something that the latter can’t quite put his thumb on. The older boy can feel the younger’s hands gripping his shoulder, and Will tries to remember when Mike first touched him.
“Mike? I’m sorry.” At first the dam holding back Will’s tears has just been spilling over. Now there was nothing left to hold them back causing Will to collapse against Mike in sobs. Mike’s arms quickly found their way around the other boy. Mike’s chest is warm and comforting. They make Will feel protected. Safe. Mike makes him feel that way.
“What are you apologizing for?” Mike whispers. Will decides to stay quiet. He knows that if he tries to talk the words will break and his voice will crack.
“Was it about him ?” Sometimes Will forgets just how much Mike knows about his past home life. He forgets that Mike was right by his side through all of it. Mike had known since day one when Will came into class one day with a black eye. Mike had vowed that he would always be there to protect him. Will had known even then that some promises couldn’t be kept, but he smiled, nodded, and pretended like Mike was right. Will had decided right then and there that he loved the dark-haired boy.
Will doesn’t have to speak– the silence is enough of an answer for Mike who holds the boy tighter. “You’re safe, Will. I got you. You never have to go back there. To him .” Mike whispers, soft but fierce.
Will can only nod against him. I’m safe. I’m with Mike. I’m safe. I’m with Mike. I’m safe. I’m with Mike. Will forces every thought about Lonnie out of his mind. He forces himself to think of the boy holding him oh so tight. He focuses on the quick rhythm of his heart because he has never been this close to Mike. He focuses on how Mike is resting his head on top of Will’s own. He focuses on how Mike’s right thumb is tracing circles into his lower back. He wishes he could stay like this with Mike forever. Safe and warm and wanted in Mike’s inviting arms. They are so close. Mike’s lips are right there. His mind tempts him with thoughts of wondering what would happen if he just leaned up. Which is exactly why he doesn’t. He can’t risk their friendship. He can’t risk Mike calling him a freak. For now, Will will have Mike in any way he can. Because even though he wants more. He can’t. He needs Mike like air to breathe. And why would you gamble something you know you need?