Chapter Text
(1341 words ≈ 5 minutes reading time)
Through the leaves of the tree in front of Mike’s window, the sun cast dancing patterns on the crimson leather wings of the three-headed dragon.
Mike's fingers gently stroked over the dry paint. Slowly, he traced the outlines of the shapes and followed them like paths on a map, feeling the unevenness of the layers of paint and the barely perceptible grooves of the brushstroke under his fingertips.
Stretched out on his stomach Mike was laying on his bed, Will's painting rolled out in front of him.
He pictured Will, focused as he guided the brush across the paper, a slight, almost imperceptible crease forming on his forehead as always when he concentrated or drifted off in thought. Him carefully applying the paint, conjuring shapes, figures, and emotions onto the paper out of white nothingness, dried paint on his chin and scattered in dozens of speckles among the freckles on his cheek.
Mike had always loved watching Will create his art. Mike wasn't known for being able to sit still for a long time but, he thought, he could watch Will draw forever. Especially if the drawing was for him.
Mike's fingers stopped over the heart on the crest of his shield. He felt the warmth of the sun on his bare hands, spreading throughout his whole body as he carefully traced the outline of the heart. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He remembered what Will had said after he handed him the painting.
You're the heart.
The sentence echoed in his head like a melody that you can’t get out of your mind. He wasn't quite sure what it meant yet, but he felt like it meant something. In the end, it has been the reason why Mike finally got the strength to tell El he loved her. Not because he wanted to, really. But because Will made him realise he needed to. For El.
Thinking of El and the events of the past few days, he lifted his finger from the heart, rolled up the paper, and let out a sigh as he rested his head on the mattress. His smile had faded and the warmth of the sun had disappeared.
He closed his eyes and buried his head in his arms as a gnawing feeling crept up on him. For a few minutes, he had been able to forget the hopeless situation they were in, but now he couldn't evade the thought any longer. It loomed over him and he was defenceless against its hold.
Soon, they would probably no longer be able to see the sun at all. The memory of the black thunderclouds only further dampened Mike's spirits. They were spreading over Hawkins from the ominous cracks in the ground that divided the town into four parts, like fractures in a glass pane threatening to shatter into pieces at the slightest disturbance.
How long would they still be able to see the sun and feel its warmth on their skin? Will had said that it was cold and dark in the Upside-Down, and that same bleakness was spreading over the town right now. It was only a matter of time before there was no light or joy left. The darkness would only leave ruins and pain behind.
He rolled over, got out of bed and stretched, his back ached as he bent it, they’ve been sitting in the yellow pizza van for hours, and Mike's spine was not thanking him for it. But he shook off the thought, such a minor ache was ridiculous compared to what El and his friends in Hawkins had gone through during the same time.
He ran his hand through his hair, smoothed out a wrinkle in his shirt, and put the painting back into the bottom drawer of his wardrobe. He decided it was time to finally go downstairs. He had been awake for a long time, already dressed and freshened up, but the thought of going downstairs only made the lump in his throat grow.
Although they had already discussed the events in detail with the others yesterday and fed their parents a series of lies, the more they talked about it and the more he looked into the desperate faces of his friends, the more real everything became.
Jonathan, Argyle, and Will had slept in the Wheelers' basement after they had convinced Argyle with all means not to say a word about the events of the last few days to Mike's parents. However, his mother had been infinitely grateful to him for driving Mike and the others home safely, fortunately not asking too many questions, too busy being relieved that Mike was home.
El had stayed in the small forest cabin with Joyce and Hopper after they had briefly cleaned the mess and made it a bit more habitable.
He took another deep breath and opened the door. From downstairs he could hear muffled voices and clinking dishes. He stepped into the hallway and descended the stairs. As he reached the bottom, the irresistible smell of boiled eggs and toasted bread wafted into his nostrils, causing his mouth to water. Only now he realized how hungry he was.
His mother came towards him from the living room with outstretched arms, smiling. He forced a smile in return and fell into her embrace.
"Good morning, my dear, did you have a restful night?"
He nodded into her shoulder, her curls tickling his cheek. A lie.
He hadn't been away from home for long, but in his mother's arms he suddenly felt more secure than ever. He breathed in her floral scent once again before letting go of her. She let her hands rest on his shoulders for a moment and nodded towards the kitchen.
"The others are already awake."
He nodded and as she disappeared back into the living room where Holly and Ted were sitting on the couch together, Mike walked into the kitchen.
Nancy, Jonathan, and Will were sitting at the kitchen table, Nancy was quiet, and the two brothers were chatting. Will was pouring himself orange juice when his gaze fell on Mike, who had just walked in. Their eyes met, and Will fell silent in the middle of his sentence. His expression was inscrutable.
Argyle, who was standing at the stove with a frying pan in one hand and a spatula in the other, was babbling something to himself.
When he saw Mike come in, he gestured with the spatula and said: "My dude, I hope it was worth it for you to sleep so long, because we've almost starved to death in the meantime..."
Mike tore his gaze away from Will and looked apologetically at Argyle.
"You could have started eating already."
The long-haired boy turned back to the food on the stove and muttered towards the scrambled eggs: "Well, now it's too late for that... But now we can enjoy it together, no shame for being able to sleep longer, we could all need that."
He looked surprisingly not-high, just very tired, but not less cranky than usual.
Mike's gaze drifted back to Will, whose eyes were still fixed on him. As their eyes met once again, Will gave him a tired but warm smile. They hadn't talked much since they arrived in Hawkins, and even now they didn't say a word, but they would... later. His glance snapped from Will's eyes down to the shirt he was wearing. It was one of Mike's. The light blue polo shirt with stripes in grey, yellow and dark blue. Of course Mike had known he would wear it, he had given it to Will himself but seeing him in it tugged at something in Mike's chest.
He would have further examined the way his shirt stretched over Will's arms and shoulders since he was not as skinny as Mike and slightly more muscular (when had that happened? Should he offer him a new Shirt? He hadn't thought that much about Will's... build when he gave him this one), but when he realised he was just standing awkwardly in the middle of the room staring at Will's arms, he cleared his throat and quickly took a seat next to Nancy.
Luckily noone showed any sign of finding it awkward, so he relaxed and looked at his sister next to him. She smiled at him tiredly and asked him how he was feeling. He just breathed out loudly, looked down at the plate before him and shrugged his shoulders. His sister nodded understandingly.
"We're probably all feeling the same way."
When Mike looked up, Will and Jonathan had resumed their conversation. They didn't show it, but they also looked worried and exhausted, they surely didn’t get much sleep. They talked about shallow things to cover up the tension in the room. Mike tugged at a loose thread on his sleeve. He could talk to Nancy or join in on the conversation between Will and Jonathan, but he simply didn't know what to say. With all the terrible things that had happened, and that were happening right now, it felt ridiculous to talk about trivial things and right now he couldn't come up with anything normal in the first place, so it was easier to just stay quiet.
When Argyle served breakfast and they started eating, everyone was relieved to have an excuse to be silent. No one spoke about the things they all constantly thought about, which had robbed them of sleep and wiped the smiles off their faces, they gladly embraced the silence.
Occasionally, Mike looked up to scrutinize the boy sitting across from him. He was worried about him, he looked incredibly exhausted, his face was pale and his eyes empty, the crease on his forehead had been there since they arrived. But not in a good concentrating-on-his-painting-with-paint-on-his-face kind of way
Mike noticed how long it had been since he had seen Will laugh, and the thought made his chest tighten.
Of course he was not more worried about him than about El and the others, but seeing him like that...
When Will suddenly lifted his head and met Mike's gaze, the dark-haired boy looked away as he felt the blood rushing into his cheeks. He didn't mean to stare like that, he had just zoned out.