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“We can’t be expected to read twenty three pages and annotate them by tomorrow!”
“You’re forgetting that half this school doesn’t do a billion or so activities.”
“I don’t do a billion or so activities. I just really care about calculus and physics and they happen to take up a lot of my time. I don’t have the energy to read twenty three pages of this boring book after that.”
Will listened to his best friends bicker, as he did way too often, and looked down at his own lackluster annotations. They were reading the Great Gatsby and Will had nothing to say about it. Nothing. He wasn’t particularly bothered by the reading, just really uninspired. The book’s descriptions were so boring that Will couldn’t even sketch them to keep his interest.
Okay, so they’re all wearing flowy gowns and boring black suits and unflattering flower hats. Not like Will had ever had such expensive clothing to ever draw it realistically. And these characters don’t do anything. They don’t fly or control time or throw fireballs or anything. They just drink alcohol and smoke a little. For no reason.
Don’t get Will wrong, he wouldn’t judge someone for smoking(except his brother, a little) but what did these characters have to be stressed about? They had heaps and heaps of money. They could afford horses and good doctors and large houses.
Houses that had working phones, probably even cellular phones, and houses that couldn’t be broken down easily. Houses that didn’t have cracks in the wall. Houses with doors that didn’t creak with the slightest movement, alerting every creature of a person in their immediate vicinity, leaving the person with nowhere to escape–
“Lame. I can do perfectly well in physics and identify phone calls as a symbol for interruption”, Mike’s b*tchy teasing made Will giggle, as it always does. He looked at his best friend, who for once was sitting up fully straight with his head held high haughtily. Ignoring Dustin’s offended replies, Will took a full moment to look at the way his best friend seems outlined by sunlight, as warm as Mike is.
Mike turns to Will with a soft smile, sensing Will’s gaze. Mike softly asks, “Hey, you okay? You’re unusually quiet.”
Will’s smile dimmed a little, his eyes being shadowed by Mike’s body unlike a moment ago when they were basking in his best friend’s light. That was all people asked him these days. His mom and Jonathan, especially. Their previous conversations about The Cure and the Clash and David Bowie had tapered, slowly giving way to the exhausting “Do you need to be driven to school today?” or “Have you been having headaches?” or “Have you been sleeping, baby?”.
But Mike was different. He still asked Will about his in-progress art pieces, rambled passionately to him about his indignance at the way his theater friends care too little about immersing themselves in the characters.
And so Will softly replied, finding that not sounding totally-exasperated is easier with Mike, “I’m fine. I just have nothing to say about this book. It’s…..it’s what it is.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Lucas snorted, and Will turned to him with a smile. They exchanged mischievous glances as Lucas continued, “They’re all so uninteresting. Literally all they do is party. Over and Over. And over.”
“Right?” Dustin said. “It’s so boring and conventional–”
“I think that’s the point, though.” Mike said quietly. He was all too familiar with mindless parties and boring guests who did nothing but weakly sway to outdated music. “It’s supposed to be boring. The characters themselves are bored of it–”
“Then that’s a ridiculous plotline. Why would you continue to do something you’re bored of?” Dustin argued stubbornly.
Mike decided to drop it, just letting the conversation drift off into how mundane the assignment was. He looked at Will, who was looking at a cluster of trees between Lucas and Dustin. His eyes were wide and he looked frozen solid, the only sign of life being his alarmingly shallow breathing and his trembling body.
Mike immediately tensed, hoping it wasn’t another one of Will’s episodes. He’d had them quite often for a year after he got back from the Upside Down, and it was a lot worse after he had to be exorcized. Mike’s heart hurt remembering how haunted Will looked when Mike rushed back to the cabin, right after El had closed the gate. He’d needed to make sure he was okay. His best friend who had already gone through enough.
He gently tapped Will on the shoulder, knowing Will didn’t respond well to intense touches. “Will? Will. Will.”
~~~~~~~~~
The creature hissed, the delicate flower-like mouth ruined by the sharp, threatening rows of teeth lining each petal. Will ran. A high pitch shrill made Will’s neck erupt in goosebumps, the terrifying coldness of the upside down touching the vulnerable nape of his neck. An intimate death, a slow, strangled one. Will screamed, trying to pull away–
But there was no warmth. No source of light in this cold, dark, cheap imitation of his hometown. Nowhere to run. Too many places to hide. None safe–
Will snapped out of it, staring at his best friend with hollow pupils. The shadows behind the trees demanded his attention, despite Will’s desperate efforts to ward them away. Mike gently reached out to touch Will’s knee. Will’s heart stuttered, a pink blush rising to his cheeks as he dazedly murmured, “Yeah?”
“I was saying I thought we could have a sleepover tonight. We haven’t had one in a while.” Mike’s smile was so bright and sparkly, shining with that alluring energy that fueled Will everyday.
“Okay.” Will replied softly. A sleepover was long overdue. Maybe they could have a DND campaign. Maybe they could be like before, the four of them at the core, battling blood sucking ogres and sweet-talking sly groups of unicorns in their imaginary world. Where they had weapons and spells, and charms. Where they weren’t a bunch of naive thirteen year olds who had walked into the dragon’s lair unarmed, discovering that it was never easy in the real world.
“I’ll bring my jenga blocks!” Lucas said excitedly. He’d recently really gotten into truth or dare, played it with Max so much when their couple’s counselor(Lucas’s little sh*t of a sister, Erica) had suggested to “build up instead of breaking up all the time, nerds”. Never mind the irony of the fact that they had to literally break apart the jenga tower to get to the truths or dares, but whatever.
Will volunteered to go to the video store and rent them all a movie. Mike naturally wanted to go with him, but Will insisted on going alone. He needed to do things by himself. Prove that he can. To whom, he wasn’t sure. But he needed to.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The video store was built in the place where the old arcade had been. The arcade where the Party had gone thousands of times before. The place of Lucas and Dustin’s unintentionally funny arguments about getting the top score on Dig Dug. The place they’d seen Max’s name for the first time.
The place where he’d had one of his first episodes. Staring out the window into the cold, dark clouds brooding over a place filled with life. They looked wrong. Suddenly everyone was gone. Mike’s indignant shrieks had disappeared into silence and Lucas and Dustin’s chatter dissolved into the sulphuric air. No one was here. Except Will. With all that was wrong. Right where he should be—
There was a faint hissing, like a pipe with a hole in it, desperately being held together by duct tape. A small whimper, pitiful and low. It took Will a second to realize that the sound had come from him. Sharp movement on his right, sluggish smoke on his left. They were closing in. The dogs were close by. He could hear their chittering, them silently communicating Will’s gruesome death.
What had awaited him was far, far worse–
“Hey, baby Byers!”. Will looked around for the source of the voice, trying to clear the dark fog in his ear and the blurriness in his eyes. He pressed one hand to his chest. Just breathe. Press into the Anahata. Your core essence. Focus on your epicenter.
“H-hey Robin.” Will replied shakily, recognizing one of his brother’s friends. Robin was chill, a little snarky and adorably jittery all the time. Will liked her a lot. She was able to fill up a silence without making it sound awkward or forced. Plus she had good music taste. The driving factor, really.
Will was the jittery one this time, though. He pressed his nails into his palms, trying to draw blood. Maybe it would center him, feel a little bit of his own essence leak through. Access the deepest parts of him where no one could reach.
Not even him.
“How can I help you today? You here for something particular, or you just got bored of guys?” Robin said playfully, and Will’s heart skipped a beat. The way she phrased that….the knowing look in her eye….god, his heart was beating fast enough already. He couldn’t do this today.
Trying not to snap, because Robin didn’t deserve that, Will said, “Just a movie night with the party. Give me whatever you recommend. I trust your taste.” Will added, and it made Robin smile. His chest loosened just a little bit, the tendrils of his veins and arteries de-stressing. She disappeared into the horror section, since that was her favorite genre. Will didn’t pay enough attention to look at what she gave him, too distracted by a clock on the wall. Had that always been there? And didn’t that look just a little bit familiar?
The clock ticked loudly, all of a sudden, and it sounded so much like a low hum that Will jumped. Dark tendrils arose from the clock, cracking the walls in their haste to—
Spread, spread, spread—
Divide.
Multiply.
Divide.
Multiply.
A cold seized Will’s heart in an unyielding paternal fist, leaving Will gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? Dark spores materialized everywhere, contaminating Will’s clothes, seeping into Will’s eyes and turning them almost black. Will was sure that if he looked in the mirror, he would look beastly.
Like him—
Will gasped sharply, not missing Robin’s alarm as he slapped the money onto the table and took the movie, bolting out of there. He had to get away. Who knew how many spores had sunk into Will’s lungs. Will had to stop the tendrils from squeezing the life out of his heart—
“Will! Will, you forgot your change!”
“Keep it” Will shouted over his shoulder as he ran out of there, tears bloodily staining his face.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mike had already finished setting up the sleeping bags when the doorbell rang. He jumped up, immediately running to the door in hopes of seeing
“Will!”
Will smiled at him, that soft, sweet smile that made Mike grin like an idiot in return. “Hey, Mike.” Will looked around for the rest of his friends before smiling shyly.
“I guess I’m the first one here.”
Mike rolled his eyes exasperatedly, “Yes, and I’m sure that Dustin will come next, and Lucas, as usual will come last despite living literally right across the street from me because he’s an idiot.”
Will giggled, nodding in agreement before saying snarkily, “Oh yeah, what a shame. More snacks for us, I guess.”
“You are literally speaking my language.” Mike grinned, grabbing Will’s arm and leading him down to the basement where he’d arranged all the snacks, and set up the xbox and arranged the sleeping bags. He may or may not have been showing off his amazing host skills, and it worked too because Will let out an appreciative little sound and settled down on the sleeping bags, plopping down on the floor with a sigh.
Mike laughed at the endearing sight, and picked out a stack of comics, flashing Will a coy smile, knowing and fond at the same time, “The new X Men came out. I haven’t even opened it yet. Wanna?” Mike waved the comic playfully, and watched with fascination as Will’s eyes, filled with wonder, followed his motion like a kitten.
Mike watched Will’s eyes widen with glee and practically melted when Will excitedly squeaked, “Yes!”. Mike grinned widely and they both relaxed on their stomachs, placing the comic in front of them as they started reading. It was one of their favorite pastimes, sitting in the comfortable, thoughtful silence of immersion in a new book, contrasted from the vibrant chatter that followed about theories for future volumes and passionate complaints about the books' writing bloops(courtesy of Mike). Mike looked forward to it every week but especially in the recent past because their silences have become more and more worried, brooding, gloomy. It was nice to simply just be normal, pretend like the only monsters they’d seen were in their fantasy world. Where Mike was strong and capable and could protect his friends, could protect Will. Where Mike would never royally f*ck up and allow his friend to bike to his doom in the middle of the night. Where Mike would never have let his best friend think that he had to hide the fact that he was literally throwing up slugs until it was too late and he was almost gone forever.
Where Mike could see the light clearly and feel brave enough to look into night. Where he could look into the bright sparkling eyes of Will Byers, and tell him the whole truth—
“I just asked. I asked if I could be your friend. And you said yes.”
Where Mike could cast aside the spiderwebs holding him to the ground, catching him in their sticky net like juicy prey for prying eyes, leaving him incapacitated and numb—
“You said yes.”
Mike felt like he was collapsing in on himself with every word, each one taking a little bit of weight off his shoulders while simultaneously feeling the crushing presence of every little confession, as if each one were its own entity—
“I needed this.” Will softly interrupted his thought process, if interrupted was even the right one. Will’s voice was so small but Mike could recognize Will’s voice among thousands of shouting voices. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Mike said. He looked back into Will’s eyes, the beautiful hazel dimmed to a dull shade of brown, even through the tiny flickers of light. Will wasn’t okay. But before Mike could ask anything their friends had come down, and Will had quickly dropped eye contact.
An all too familiar ache settled in Mike’s bones, making them brittle and weak, when Will pulled away, diverting his eyes to the floor and making himself smaller. Will hadn’t dropped eye contact then.
“It was the best thing I’ve ever done.”
Dammit, why could he not just get Will to talk to him?
~~~~~~~~
Rapid, agile movements in the corner of his eye caught Will’s attention, making him almost choke on a gasp. It wasn’t hard. The air was putrid and he was certain that those pores had filled his lungs enough to blacken them to a fifty year old smoke’s.
Acting purely on instinct, Will withdrew further into his fort, into his safe place. The smoke grew darker and more foul around him,the world around him magnifying as he was enveloped in an ash gray bubble. The ground beneath him shook as Will curled into himself, pulling his knees into his chest and making himself small like he had thousands of times before. The movement stopped.
Will dared to hope. Maybe the monster was gone. Maybe he’d convinced it that he didn't exist. Practice makes perfect after all.
Venomous snarling quickly dashed his hopes.
THUD!
Will was barely breathing, looking with dread and terror as he saw the sign fall to the floor, the tragic, deafening sound drowning out the monster’s pitiful squeals.
The words haunted him, broken and battered and bruised, the paint flowing from the rain despite the sign having been painted years ago. The paint should have dried. Why hadn’t it dried?
All friends welcome.
Each letter was quickly smudging, wiping out any traces of the loving words that eight year old Will had written with Jonathan, their soft comfort in the terrifying, cold rain, their fireplace in the aftermath of their father’s chilly parting words.
“Don’t try to come find me and beg me for money when that f*g is lying on the deathbed with AID—”
“Get out!!” Mom had shouted, trying to protect her sons’ sensitive, innocent ears from hearing the cursed threats. But Will was far from innocent. He had known. He had gone and looked it up in the library, and found out what the word meant. He could hear every word, loud and clear through the whipping wind and aggressive thunder.
And he’d understood. Agreed, even. He was a f*g. He was doomed to a life of misery, if he even lived that long to experience such an intense emotion. He watched as his mother disappeared into the house, probably to cry, because of all Will had done.
Probably to curse him. Desperately ask for a cure to heal his sickness. This was his fault. His mother was upset and it was all his fault. All his doing.
Now, looking at the broken sign, Will felt a sick sense of relief. Finally, it was done. He didn’t have to wait out the slow motion demise of his core friendships. They were done with him. Done with his repeated bullsh*t, constant need for protection.
They were done with his awkward silences and stupid questions. They were done with DND and movie nights with Star Wars characters or the Ghostbusters. They were done with four feet tall sleeping bags that could never fit any of them anymore. Except Will. He was still the same. They were all gone, or going. He would still fit into his sleeping bag, wouldn’t even have to curl himself up—
Will violently shook in his sleeping bag, the zipper coming undone from his jostling. He was half conscious, delirious, as he looked around with tear-blurred eyes. His arms had subconsciously wrapped around his belly and his breathing was shallow and sharp.
The tendrils locked in place.
Will’s arms felt stiff and yet they shook. His breathing came heavy and hot and yet he couldn’t breathe. His eyelids fluttered with sleepiness, hardly able to stay awake, and still he could see everything in horrifying clarity.
The drawings that adorned the basement walls, his drawings, Will’s drawings that Mike had proudly displayed melted into the wall, the ghosts of crayons long-spent dancing tauntingly on each paper and warping the images. The pictures of the hydra turned into long tentacles, wrapping around the paper and crumpling it up until there was nothing but crease. Pointless, oppressive crease. The faces of Mike, Lucas, Dustin smiled, their smiles toothy and wide like a gaping door, the last one he’d seen before he was taken—
Will let out a small whimper.
A painting of his cleric, Will’s cleric, his creative masterpiece, rotting holes into the paper with how strongly defined the image was, every little detail recorded. Unlike the other ones, this one didn’t warp. An additional image appeared, a large shadow right behind the cleric’s head, a figure with no face and no expression, only a shape—
The Mind Flayer.
Will gasped loudly, startling up into a sitting position and letting out a small sob. The wizard grinned back at him but the shadow monster was the one who controlled his face. Controlled his body, his emotions, even his memories.
“Kill them, Will. They have hurt you. I will show you the way.”
Will couldn’t breathe. His vision went red, god he couldn’t see, what was he going to do—
Images of Bob flashed in his mind, red and dying and bleeding out on the floor, being ripped apart by demodogs.
Help. Please, please, let me go—
“You want this. You have wanted this since Bob got here.”
You’re lying. No—please, please!!
Will’s silent screams did nothing to override the gut wrenching screams of his mom’s boyfriend, the one source of happiness that she had. The one Will just destroyed—
“But he was in the way, Will. You know what happens when someone gets in the way.”
The cleric beckoned him closer. Will couldn’t take it anymore. He bolted out of the basement, his safe haven, the resting place of his best friends, and he ran up to the first floor. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he had to—-
“Will!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mike scrambled up in his sleeping bag, literally dragging it with him in his haste to get to his best friend. He’d immediately woken up when he heard loud gasping. He didn’t know how the rest of the party hadn’t. Mike took three steps at a time to catch up to Will, who was annoyingly fast despite having smaller legs than all of them.
He’d heard the gasp, like all the air had been sucked out of Will’s lungs. The desperate sob that echoed through the lonely walls of the house, pulling Mike towards it like a string Mike would never want to lose. He saw Will just as his best friend was about to wrench the front door open and suddenly Mike saw red.
“It was a seven.”
“What?”
“The roll. It was a seven.”
A pause.
“The demogorgon. It got me.”
The toothy smile had haunted his nightmares and blessed his dreams, pressed against his skin and gently caressed it before tearing it apart.
He would not lose Will again.
“Will! What are you doing?!” Mike watched his best friend freeze like he’d been caught red handed. Mike’s chest was tight and he was breathing harshly, his chest rising and falling shakily.
Wil stammered, “I-I- the basement was t-too crowded—”
“And so you decided to what, go outside in the-” Mike was delirious, not even sure if he was conscious with how terrified he was. “The f*cking middle of the night?!”
Will stiffened, his eyes narrowing and a thin, glassy film covering his eyes in the lethal darkness, “Keep your voice down, everyone is sleeping.” Mike ignored that. Will lowered his eyes, muttering weakly, ‘And I would have been fine—”
“Bullsh*t! Will, th-this is exact-ly how you d-disappeared.” Mike’s voice had gotten so teary that he was starting to sound distorted. “I can’t- I won’t do this—l-let you do this—Will we already did this dance, and we just got you back. Again.”
Will’s breathing got harsher, and he started to feel suffocated. All he could see were his childhood paintings, destroyed and taunting him, and Bob, and mom and—
“I had to leave, okay?!”
~~~~~~~~~
Will let out a muffled scream as a pair of surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his waist and fiercely wrenched him away from the door. He almost wailed in anguish. He’d nearly been out of here, nearly gotten away. Or at least, had nearly taken him away. Away from where he could hurt the party.
But these arms ruined everything. They were warm and cozy and Will hated that he instantly recognized them, his body instinctively melting into the touch. It felt comforting—for one second, and the next—-
The creature had formed a tornado around him, circling him menacingly and testing him out from all directions. Will’s efforts to scream were useless.
“No, please—please let me go.” Will sobbed, trying to push away, he needed to push, push, push away. He couldn’t let Mike in, not again. Couldn’t let another person die on his behalf. This was his problem. He’d brought this on himself.
“I’m not letting go. Please, I want to help.”
Help.
Will sobbed harder, his efforts in vain once more. Mike’s arms tightened around him, forming that protective embrace so heart wrenchingly true to the Paladin that Will was forced to feel protected. Forced to accept.
~~~~
For the first time all day, for the first time in months really, Mike pushed. And he pushed hard. He and Will had gone through breathing exercises over the past few months. Periods where Will would flinch from every touch until Mike stayed a respectful distance away.
This was nothing like that. Will’s eyes looked shattered, as if the fog had condensed to form black crystals that had chipped away at his bright pupils.
He felt Will unclench, his tense shoulders falling, expecting Mike to catch him. Of course he would. He always did.
Mike hugged Will fiercely as Will sobbed, burying his face into Mike’s chest. The sounds were heartbreaking and made Mike tear up too, but he pushed through his blurry vision to gently lead his best friend over to the couch. Away from the front door. Away from another possible brush with death. A step into the safe, warm sphere that Mike had always kept empty for Will.
Mike gently rubbed Will’s back, tracing gentle, intentional circles into the back of his shirt. He made sure Will could feel it, the human contact, the proof that he was here and not there. Will’s trembling slowly stopped as Mike punctuated each caress with a soft comforting reassurance.
~~~~~~~~
Will felt like he’d been dunked in a bucket of water, squeezed until he broke and bent everywhere, and then wrung out to dry. He shuddered slightly in Mike’s embrace, blinking a few times as he registered his surroundings. The episode was gone, but Will could still feel the remnants of it, black blood splattered on the walls, a grease spot on the floor, tendrils(albeit lose and weak) around his ankles. But he tried not to focus on that.
Tried to ground himself with Mike’s touch, tried to feel every second of the shapes Mike traced into his back. Tried to absorb every reassurance until he felt comfortably warm again.
As he gently pulled away, he couldn’t look into Mike’s eyes. Couldn’t let Mike see the terror in his gaze, the proof that it hadn’t gotten better and probably never would.
But Mike wasn’t having it, gently leaning close and guiding Will’s eyes to meet his. They flickered with emotion and Mike’s chest ached. Softly, he asked, “Will, what happened? Wh-why did you want to leave?”
Will swallowed, his normal guarded demeanor had disappeared, leaving the broken, babbling, vulnerable, useless mess that was Will Byers. And here Mike was, dealing with Will’s sh*t, even when Will refused to deal with it himself, rubbing his back and comforting him and Will would feel like an absolute monster to lie to him.
He would always let Mike in. The words came out garbled but each one was the truth, the horrifying, shameful truth, “I- I keep seeing him. E-everywhere– on the walls, in the park, i-in my dreams—”
“Is it like before? The now-memories?” Mike urgently asked and Will startled a little at the interruption. Mike felt terrible about breaking Will’s train of thought but he needed to make sure that the Mind Flayer wasn’t coming back all over again. That the only monsters Will had to fight were the ones in his head.
“No.” Will reassured, and Mike relaxed. “The-they’re not like before. But they keep coming.” Will’s voice was shaky and thick.
“Why do they keep coming? Why can’t I move on from this? Why is it always me and my stupid body that needs the recovery time?! I just–” Will dropped his head into his hands, and Mike gently asked, “Can I hug you?”
Will sniffled, nodding pathetically. Mike wrapped an arm around him, gently holding him together and making Will a strong, soft place to land.
“Will,” Mike murmured, gentle and quiet, “You’re not the only one who hasn’t moved on. What happened was f*cking traumatizing. Everyone’s barely keeping it together. Like,” Mike shifted into a more comfortable position and Will rested his head on Mike’s shoulder, not having the energy to second guess himself.
“I hear sounds of rustling from Nancy’s room almost every night and it scares me half to death. I-one day I went to check if she was okay, what was going on, and turns out she had literally left. Jumped from the window and climbed down the tree.”
Will croaked, eyes wide and disbelieving, “What?”
“I know, that’s what I thought too. I didn’t know where she was going. One day, I cornered her and asked her where she goes every night and she looked at me with tears and told me that she went to Jonathan’s house. Apparently, sleeping together helps.”
It took a minute for Mike to register his wording, and he turned bright red but Will didn’t even pick up on it. He was too busy thinking about his brother needing someone to sleep so he felt better. He should have checked on him. Made sure he was okay.
Mike cleared his throat, before continuing, “Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that we haven’t moved on.”
Will considered this, feeling just a little bit lighter. But there was still a gaping hole in his chest. the box of repressed emotions that Will had buried deep down had been wrenched out of chest, leaving a mark on its way out.
Mike sensed that Will wasn’t done immediately. He knew him too well. Quietly, he asked, “Will? What did you see in these….visions, I guess?”
Will looked up at Mike, eyes glassy and form shaky. Mike gently rubbed his bony shoulder, trying to offer comfort as Will admitted tearily, “The Mind Flayer mostly. The way it controlled me. Mike, I-I felt it everywhere.” Will choked on a sob, and Mike gently stroked his hair. “And it showed me B-bob.”
Mike’s breath hitched and Will tensed, scared that Mike would push him away, remember that Will is a murderer and send him far from here. Far from the purity and goodness of childhood and into the dark depths of the alternate dimension. But Mike just tightened his hold, croakily asking, “What about Bob?”
“H-his death. I watch him die. Over and over again. And I just— stand there.” Disgust dripped from Will’s tone, disgust at himself that caused Mike to frown but he let Will speak. “I mean–what kind of human being would just stand and watch someone die? What the hell am I?”
“You were not in control.” Mike protested fiercely. “That wasn’t you. And even if it was, what were you supposed to do? Try to take on fifteen demodogs by yourself?”
Will looked at him desperately and Mike realized that Will was willing to do just that. He sighed softly, gently whispering, “Will, that wasn’t your fault. Please believe me, that was the farthest from it. B-bob’s death was sh*tty and it sucked b-but—” Now Mike’s voice was beginning to catch but he had to say this. Will had to hear it. “You can’t blame yourself. No one blames you either.”
“B-but if I had done something, m-maybe I could have saved him. Maybe I wouldn’t have cost my mom’s happiness. Again.”
“B-but you couldn’t have,” Mike repeated like a broken record. He felt useless, unsure of how to show Will that he was a good person, a great one actually, and that they all needed him here. That he would get through this and that Mike would be with him….
Will startled as Mike abruptly stood up, offering Will a hand, and firmly saying, “Come on.” It was gentle order, but an order nevertheless. Confused and disoriented but mildly curious, Will stood up and followed his best friend to the kitchen. Mike rummaged inside the fridge, taking out what looked like vanilla yogurt. Mike took a very weirdly shaped wine glass out and set it on the island.
It made Will giggle, Mike smiling in response. The glass was goofy, like it was a bowl elevated on stilts. Mike laughed softly with him before putting some of the vanilla yogurt in the bowl. Will looked up at him, puzzled, and Mike laughed again, gently explaining, “This is you. Your essence. Sweet and charming and classic.”
Will blushed heavily, wondering what was going on. Momentarily, he’d forgotten the tear tracks on his face and the way his shirt was soaked in sweat. He just looked at Mike’s stupid-cute wine glass. Mike searched the snack drawer for something before returning triumphantly with a pack of MnM’s. He sprinkles them on top and declares, “These are all your quirks, your personality. Pink for affectionate and caring, Green for friendly and kind, Yellow for compassionate and loyal, Blue for–” Mike suddenly broke off, flushing deep red, a color he curiously hadn’t added. Will tried not to dwell on the fact that Mike had literally picked out MnM colors based on Will’s personality.
Mike smiled shyly at Will but his voice was confident. “Now, we’re going to add a little bit of the Upside Down.” Will shivered as Mike rummaged through the fridge again, emerging with a ketchup bottle.
“Ketchup?!” Will was about to protest that Mike was about to ruin some perfectly good frozen yogurt when Mike let a few drops of ketchup fall into the bowl. Will felt squeamish, frowning as the little blobs settled and stained the yogurt with their red spice.
Mike gently said,'' Now, I’m going to mix this.” He thoroughly mixed the frozen yogurt, burying the MnM’s and the ketchup. The yogurt was now a red stained mess. Will felt himself getting upset and he protested, “Mike, you’ve ruined the yogurt! Now it can’t be eaten.”
Mike smiled at him, as if knowing this was going to be his answer. He even looked a little smug. He said, “Ah, but you can. See, it’s not completely red stained.” He pointed at the yogurt. “There are little swirls of yellow and green and blue and pink. Will, your personality is still here. It wasn’t erased by the red. The red just made its way into it. But it didn’t take over.”
Will’s eyes widened in realization, and he saw what Mike was doing. Wow, okay. Will kind of wanted to cry now. Again. Sob, maybe. Preferably in Mike’s arms.
Mike took some chocolate syrup and this time, Will couldn’t resist asking, “What’s that?”
Mike grinned cheekily, his cheeks slightly pink, “This is love. Familial, friendly, best friendly, ultrasuperbestfriendly—”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Will giggled, looking like a tomato. He even had the round face for it.
Mike tipped the chocolate syrup into the yogurt, letting a copious amount flow in and suddenly all of it was brown, swirls of chocolate everywhere. “See, the beauty of this is that the frozen yogurt is cold, captivating, so the chocolate freezes and solidifies. Just like our love. The love of your mom, Jonathan, the party, me. Will, we’re solid. We’re right here.”
Will was starting to shake and Mike abandoned the concoction, crossing the kitchen counter to gently take Will’s hand. Mike murmured, watching Will’s eyes flicker between his own desperately, “I’m right here. Now look in the glass.”
Will looked. Everything was brown now. The red was gone, very small traces of it still remaining. Mike echoed his observations, making them more real,”The red is gone. But all those little colors are still there. Your personality is still there. And our love is still there.”
Will looked back up at Mike, and he was smiling brightly, brighter than he had in months, years even because how could one person be this good?
Mike repeated, wanting to make sure it got into his best friend’s head, “None of us are going anywhere. And neither are you.”
Will sniffled and opened his mouth to answer, to say something, anything, but it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. Mike’s stupid little metaphor had made him cry. Of course it had. He lunged into Mike’s arms, wrapping his arms around Mike’s neck and burying his face into his collarbone. Mike shuddered, his breath catching, and he held Will tightly, impossibly close.
Tearfully, Will pushed out, “You’re such a dork”.
He felt like doing too much, wanted to grab hold of Mike and never leave again. He peeked over Mike’s shoulder at some pictures on the wall, a lot of them of Mike, Nancy and Holly, and some of the party, and some of Mike and Will. All of the pictures seemed whole again, filled with past memories and affection and innocence that still hadn’t gone away.
Mike let out a watery laugh,”Yeah, I guess the metaphor was a little dramatic.”
“No–shut up, it was the cutest metaphor in the world.” Will fiercely replied and Mike smiled, hiding his blush in Will’s hair.
“It was all the truth. I’m right here, Will. I’m going to help you through this.”
Will sniffled, believing it for the first time in months, “I know. You’re amazing.”
Mike’s heart fluttered and he shyly ducked his head, playfully saying, “And now we have a midnight snack. Win win.”
“Mike, I am not eating that. You put ketchup in it.”
“But Will, weren’t you listening?? The ketchup was drowned out by the chocolate—”
“Not literally, Mike, it was for the metaphor!”
But Mike was adamant. “No, I’m serious. Try it. I swear, it’s gone.”
Will tried it. Miraculously, yeah, the chocolate had literally drowned it out. Wow. Will kind of wanted to bawl now. Shakily, he said, “Oh.”
Mike laughed, and took a spoon of his own, wrapping an arm around Will’s shoulders again. And if he discreetly dropped a tiny kiss on Will’s head, no one was there to see it.