Chapter Text
This was awkward.
Mike was in the shower, and Will was…well, if there was somewhere past exhausted–both physically and emotionally–then that’s where he was.
And as he sleepily climbed into bed in their dingy shared motel room, he realized that there was, in fact, only one bed. Because of course. The universe wasn’t done fucking with him yet.
The stupid motel that they were staying in was the only one for miles, yet somehow they had only had two open rooms–very Psycho of them, Will realizes now–but he would almost rather stay in the other room, with Jonathan and Argyle, than have to sleep with Mike.
Will could sleep on the floor. He could , and he probably should, but at this point, he was so tired he didn’t really care. If Mike–his friend , as he’d made so clear at Rink-O-Mania–couldn’t handle sharing a bed with Will, then just…kill him already.
It wasn’t worth losing a friendship like the one that they had had over some girl.
Except that’s not really what it was about, was it? Will was pissed that Mike never sent any letters, never even called …he got more calls from Max of all people than he did from Mike.
And Mike…Will didn’t quite understand what Mike was angry about.
Mike was mad at Will for being too mopey, and too sad. Mike was mad at Will for never reaching out to him , which…well, now that Will thought about it, was maybe a valid reason to be angry. Will supposed that their friendship was a two way street, and neither of them had really driven down it.
But…every single time El was on the phone with Mike, Will had always tried to get the phone. He tried . Because of Joyce’s job, the phone lines were always busy, so the few times that El had been allowed to speak on the phone to Mike, Will had tried so hard to find a way to interrupt, or to ask El to let him talk, but she’d always shook her head no and then promptly hung up.
So he’d at least tried to reach out. Because that’s what best friends did .
Except they weren’t even that now, were they?
Will was startled out of his thoughts when the white noise that had been engulfing the room finally cut out, meaning that Mike was out of the shower now.
Will tugged the edges of the blankets from underneath the mattress–he didn’t understand why motels always tucked their blankets so tight but they did–and slipped under them, bare feet sliding against the cold sheets. They’d gone out and bought a second set of clothes for all of them to sleep in, and the gray sweatpants that Will had chosen were nearly as soft as his favorite blanket at home, the one that was probably sitting in a pile on his bedroom floor.
He faced away from the bathroom just as Mike opened the door and walked out. “Will?”
Will didn’t answer. He heard Mike pad quietly over to their things, and Will focused on slowing his breathing down enough to maybe-hopefully fool Mike into genuinely thinking he was asleep.
The lights turned off, throwing the room into darkness, and Will could feel the hair on his arms stand up in fear, but Mike immediately turned on a lamp near his side of the bed, almost like it was a habit whenever Will was in the room.
He sighed from somewhere behind Will, and then the bed shifted ever so slightly. Will nearly froze, but remembered at the last minute that he needed to stay calm and still. His muscles slowly relaxed, and he hoped Mike couldn’t tell the difference.
Soon, there was heat behind him, and Mike’s leg was brushing against his, so Will squeezed his eyes shut, because this –this physical, not-quite-intimate touch–was one that he’d been longing for for almost as long as he could remember. He missed the days when it was okay for him and Mike to share a bed, and to hold hands, and now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since Will had been touched by someone who wasn’t his family or wanting to hurt him.
He didn’t think about that for too long.
“I know you’re asleep,” Mike whispered, and Will nearly shuddered out a breath in relief. “But I just…damn it, Will, what happened to friends don’t lie ?”
What ? What did that mean?
Mike took a deep breath, and his leg moved infinitesimally, but Will was so attuned to his movements it felt like Mike was getting ready to run. “I know you lied about the painting in the van today.”
Fuck .
Will felt cold, naked, like every defense he had so carefully concocted up until then had been stripped away in a matter of seconds.
Giving Mike that painting had been…it had taken every ounce of grit and love that Will had in him. Maybe even all of his stupidity, too–which, apparently, Will had a lot –because while Will had thought it had worked to give Mike the confidence–no, the courage –to fight on, here he was, accusing him of lying to him, of all things.
“I know…I know El doesn’t feel that way about me, okay? I know that she’s, like, moved on from me, or something. Which is fine–” Mike paused, and Will held his breath. He could feel Mike shake his head behind him. “I guess I just don’t understand why you would lie to me, too. I thought we were at least friends.”
Will very nearly turned around to just stare at Mike with judgment and hurt dripping from his gaze. How could he say something like that? After everything . After his lies and broken promises, how could Mike say he thought that they were at least friends? That Will owed him anything?
Because it was true, some traitorous part of Will whispered. Will did owe Mike everything; he knew that Mike was one of the only reasons that Will had been found in the Upside Down, already half dead.
Mike’s determination had been one of the reasons that Will had fallen for him in the first place. Searching to hell and back for him had been almost a declaration of love from Mike, to twelve year old Will, at least.
Now Will could barely even get a phone call.
“I don’t know why you don’t feel safe enough with me to tell me the truth,” Mike whispered, and Will snapped back into reality with the weight of those words. “I’m here for you, I lo…I-I care for you, probably more than I should. If you did tell me the truth then I would’ve…” Mike trailed off, and Will squeezed his eyes shut and mentally asked you would’ve what?
“I don’t know, maybe I would’ve kissed you, or something,” Mike said quietly, then paused, and Will tried so hard to stay still and remember to breathe. “I know you like me, Will,” Mike whispered, like the mere admission was enough to crack the earth. “I know you like me the way that boys are supposed to like girls, but… god , I like you, too. I just can’t…I’m not brave enough to tell you, or make the first move. But you , Will.
You’re so brave, you’re… so damn brave. You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. And I know it took so much bravery to make that painting for me, and it–it means so much to me, Will, you have no idea. I just wish…I just wish that you had said it yourself. Instead of painting a picture of us together with El’s words.”
Will couldn’t help it. He turned around and faced Mike, who jumped at the sudden movement. “Don’t say that,” Will whispered, voice breaking on the first word as it fought its way through his tear-constricted throat. “Don’t say that, don’t do that. Don’t say things you don’t mean. Please stop making promises you can’t keep, Mike, it’s…” Will trailed off, waiting for Mike to refute him in the stunned silence before he finally bit the bullet. “You can’t say friends don’t lie and then turn around and lie to me.”
Mike turned onto his side to look at Will, and Will looked just over Mike’s skinny shoulder to avoid seeing his caramel eyes search his own face. “Will–”
“No,” Will decided. “No.”
He turned back over onto his other side. Then, because he wasn’t petty enough or smart enough to leave it at that, he whispered into the darkness: “Goodnight Mike.”
Will held his breath, and tried not to let his shoulders shake as tears fell from his eyes, but it wasn’t like Mike hadn’t noticed when he was crying earlier, right?
He heard a sigh from behind him, then Mike’s watery voice: “Goodnight, Will.”
Will squeezed his eyes tight, sending a few more tears down his cheeks. He resigned himself to falling into a fitful sleep–if even that–facing away from Mike.
***
Will woke up to a harsh moonlight streaming in through the window and casting shadows onto the wall in front of him. There was an unfamiliar weight around his middle. He shifted sleepily, turning around and burrowing further into warmth.
Except…the warmth moved.
Will opened his eyes and was met with Mike’s hazy caramel ones, framed in the early morning moonlight and lamp light by his long, dark eyelashes. “Hi,” Mike whispered, his voice an octave lower from sleep.
“Hi,” Will whispered, his own throat cracking with disuse. “What are you doing?”
Mike blinked warily at Will, eyes wide and face innocent. Will had a feeling he was still asleep. “Sleeping,” Mike finally replied as his eyes fell closed and he brought Will closer, hooking a leg around one of Will’s ankles to pull his entire body flush with his own.
Will, despite every bone in his body screaming that this was a terrible idea, let him.
The world was probably going to end tomorrow, anyways.