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Mike Wheeler’s head is not empty, despite what any other person would say.
No, Mike Wheeler’s head is not empty, in fact, it’s too full. There are a million different thoughts overlapping; mind constantly jumping from one idea to another, and it’s just so damn loud in there. So Mike keeps all that inside his head, only making sense of when a particularly forceful one comes to the forefront of his mind. It’s a battle to wrangle out the words every time, numerous choices bouncing around his head all day. Yet Mike can’t help but think that any other person would be able to at least make out the proper–the right –response. Instead of his usual arbitrary speech, leading to worse outcomes than if he had just kept his mouth shut.
Is he such a fuck up that he can’t even talk without hurting someone?
Having such an obnoxious brain might be why he liked writing so much. Being able to spill all his thoughts onto a page, word vomiting until a sort of silence settles. It helps that his overexcited mind keeps him supplied with a steady flow of ideas, an active imagination making fantastical scenarios much easier to fathom.
Other than that though? It just…sucks.
Then there’s the other problem, the constant straining of things that Mike desperately does not want to think about. Stupid teachings from his father, the decidedly less than healthy amount of ideas on how to kill himself and the overflowing trashcan of letters to Will.
Will.
The only time when his thoughts aren’t scattered is when he’s thinking about Will. It’s like he can’t help but focus on this one stupid topic (not that Will is stupid, Will isn’t. Mike is). Even when he’s not exclusively thinking about Will, he’s still subconsciously noting anything related to him.
That might simultaneously be the best and worst part of all this.
In Mike’s opinion, having almost every part of his daily life permeated by Will is just a little bit annoying. He shows up when he’s walking down the street and his eyes snag onto a comic they would both enjoy. It’s the silent call of art supplies sitting tantalizingly in the window (he almost never leaves without buying a little something for Will). And there definitely is something about the warmth that encompasses him when he comes across a lone, deteriorated swingset.
Fuck, that’s normal right? They’ve been friends for so long and–whatever, he shouldn’t have to justify this to himself because it is, normal, he means.
It’s just how it’s always been, even with the recent drift. Will thinks it’s his fault, Mike knows he does, but it definitely isn’t. It’s Mike’s, he’s the one who doesn’t deserve a second chance.
Will deserves everything. Mike wishes he could give him the world, well, maybe not the whole world, just the good parts. Mike wants something to quell Will’s pain whenever he’s not around or–god forbid–when he hurts him. He wants something like sunshine and light showers, buttercups and laughter, the sweetness of a treat and all the right colours, he wants to gather up Will in his arms and hold him until he knows he’s safe and cared for and-
And Mike needs to shut up.
God, he is such an idiot, a bona fide dunce. Maybe everybody else is right, maybe Mike is just an insensitive asshole that can’t ever read the room. The one that nobody wants to be around, always selfish and grumpy, bringing the mood down. He hopes it’s not true, but he knows that if he can’t even convince himself, there’s nothing stopping others from thinking the same.
Of course, Will wouldn’t think that way. Will never thinks that way, he’s nice to a fault. Even when Mike is horrible to him, he still somehow forgives him.
He’s not worth it.
Yet, he never wants Will to look at him any differently, he wouldn’t be able to take it. It’s one thing for others to think him a fool but Will? Will can’t. Mike can’t explain it but he just…can’t. It would break him. Sometimes he thinks that maybe it would be for the best, then Will smiles at him and his shame in that thought stains his cheeks red.
There’s no other reason for the flush of his cheeks, obviously. (It’s most definitely not because Will looks pretty when he smiles, and it’s absolutely not because it’s directed at him .)
There’s entirely no reason for Mike to feel anything other than platonic fondness over Will because he–he has El.
Oh my god, El.
Amazing, wonderful El. He adores her, it’s a miracle that she picked him, nerdy, frog-faced Mike, out of the infinitely better choices. Mike thinks that she might be regretting that now, he knows that he’s a pretty shit boyfriend despite his efforts. He cares for her so much (he does! Don’t doubt his sincerity thank you very much.) but he can’t help but feel that there’s some sort of dissent every time they interact. An obvious rift in how even Mike’s hyperactive mind can’t come up with a conversation topic. They don’t talk much anymore, and when they do it’s stilted; awkward. All they do is make out, trying to fill in the required time with obnoxious, cheesy things straight out of a romance book.
Mike knows that he likes her well enough, he knows because his stomach swoops when they kiss. Heart plummeting so fast he thinks he may be sick. All the tell-tale signs of liking someone. The fast beats in his chest and the sweat lining his skin. That awful nervousness when they’re alone, turning into an intense dread as they close in, but it’s a good kind of dread (right?). Anticipation, most likely, wishing that days would be longer just to get to that moment. Textbook crush. Totally. After all, he knows jack-shit about love, and these are the yielded facts from extensive romantic media consultation.
He’s starting to think something’s wrong with him.
Does he even like El anymore? Did he ever?
Why does spending time with his girlfriend, whom he has immense affection for, feel almost herculean? It’s strange. He’s strange. It’s certain now.
Mike Wheeler is so messed up that he can’t even enjoy being with a literal gift from the heavens.
He is so genuinely messed up because, in a moment where he should be gushing about his incredible girlfriend, his mind has decided to steer him back to Will. To compare.
LIKE WHO DOES THAT? WHO COMPARES THE TIME THEY SPEND WITH THEIR BEST FRIEND TO THEIR GIRLFRIEND?
He’s really hoping that whoever created him and gave him this absolute dysfunctional wreck of a brain goes and fucks themselves.
Because he knows that despite everything, he would drop any and all plans with El if Will needed him. As soon as he says anything; has any wants, Mike would do most everything in his power to ensure that Will’s happy.
Shit.
Not normal, definitely not, but it’s just another one of those exclusive MikeandWill things. That’s just it, they’ve always been one whole, MikeandWill instead of Mike and Will. Always together, never separate, it would feel wrong otherwise. Mike understands Will, just as Will understands Mike. That day at the swings was the day Mike had known he’d found the one. The person that would never judge him, the person who could see him, really see him. A bond deeper than mere romantic, platonic niceties. A bond that comfort is founded on, so long as they were close. Something others speak about with envy, a connection put above all.
Will had always been special to Mike, and he’d been so close to losing that because of his own stupidity. He could’ve lost his it person for nothing besides his moronic beliefs about “growing up” being correlated with abandoning all he loves.
Yeah, what utter nonsense, why should he have to give up parts of himself just to mature? What did he feel so defensive of that he needed to spit vitriol at the one person who’d accepted him no matter what? Why couldn’t he just have realized that just because he hated himself, it didn’t mean others should too, especially not Will. Please not Will, not ever. He’s too good for that. Mike hopes that he knows he’s precious; treasured.
Fuck. Mike really hopes Will knows he’s loved, feels that he’s loved. Because Mike loves him too much for that, he needs him like he needs air to breathe. He can’t lose him he can’t, just the thought of it makes him ill and he really wants to throw up now and-
Wait.
Hold on.
Did-
Did he just-
Oh.
Oh.
Well.
That’s new.
You know what? Maybe Mike’s head is empty, because, for all that noise, he’s never thought to just listen.
Sure, he hadn’t let himself dwell on it because he did know. He knew that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. He knows so he hides behind a facade keeping himself locked inside a box with a binder that he hasn’t opened in ages. Yet, finally getting to the point of admitting it to himself? It’s…peculiar. A kind of peculiar that makes him want to scream and run away but also let the floodgates open for once and be as reckless as he wants.
He’s scared, or at least, he will be scared. When the adrenaline wears off and offsets his current numbness. He’ll be terrified. Panic-stricken from being unable to run from his own mind.
That’s for future Mike to worry about though, present Mike is feeling quite liberated. Present Mike would actually really like to see Will right now, maybe kiss him too.
Both of those thoughts last for all but a few seconds as Mike remembers himself. Relearns reality and what it means for him. Suddenly he’s future Mike; scared out of his mind and lonelier than ever.
Alone in his emotions, drowning in guilt.
What’s he supposed to do about his-his relationship? How is he supposed to just break it off with El? This is horrible, he can’t be in love with a boy, it’s wrong and selfish and abominable.
No. That’s not right, he doesn’t just love any boy. He loves Will, and loving Will could never be wrong.
Still doesn’t change the fact that he’s even more of a freak than he thought he was though. God, how’s Will going to respond when he finds out Mike harbors these…these feelings? Affections supposedly pointed towards his stepsister directed at him instead.
Mike’s certain that it’s going to make Will uncomfortable, even with how kind he is. He’s sure that Will wouldn’t avoid him outright but there’d be distance and just the mere thought of being barred from Will is sickening.
It makes him nauseous, tinging his worldview with a blur of black spots.
He’s always had a craving, burrowed deep within his heart, one he had astutely ignored. It’s just now, he’s made himself aware of exactly what he wants. A weight so closely pressed against his chest it suffocates him.
Mike’s been coveting a heart unattainable to him.