Chapter Text
Will wasn't here anymore. At least not the Will he used to be. The nice Will, the respectful Will, the artsy Will, the nerdy Will, the top student Will, the weird Will, the Dungeons and Dragons Will, Will the Wise, the cleric and the gay fairy Will. Will Byers. William Byers.
He was no longer any of that.
He could barely breathe in or out. He could smell the fishy lake and the wood of the boat he sat on. He could only hear muffled frequencies which did not make their proper way into his ears. Blurred out water splashes and voices far away from him. He couldn't see anything, but a mixture of red and navy light upon him behind those heavy lids. Nothing that blocked his vision entirely though.
Icy November breezes touched his wet face and oozed body from time to time as he slowly lost control of his mind and numb limbs. Tears slowly made their way past his rosy cheeks to drop onto his brown jeans.
He was uncertain of how he managed to get into this position. What has gotten into him?
Maybe it was his instinct to protect after long years of being protected. Perhaps it was the sudden urge to run away from his nightmares and filthy secrets. It may have been anything for Will to make himself disappear.
He was sensitive and full of despair. And good at hiding.
Therefore, here he was; leaning back as his trembling mind cleared. In the middle of the night on Lovers Lake, trying to end his suffering.
The contact with chilly water wasn't as bad as he had expected it to be. Slowly but steadily Will Byers' youthful body drowns in the cold Lovers Lake.
No willingness stopped him from sinking deeper. No glimpse of hope shined an imaginary light in the distance. Absolutely nothing. It was as if the universe wanted this. Wanted him to die a hero. It had been wanting him to die all along.
He shouldn't have survived in 1983.
This wasn't a movie with a happy ending. No knight in shining armour will magically jump into the sea and save him, because this was his ending.
Will's fate was to die. The gods, or whatever created his lifespan, wanted this. And there was certainly no way back. Was this what Will wanted though?
Will Byers never got what he wanted. Will never got what people called a resolved conclusion. He was Will Byers, zombie boy, after all. He was the reason for it all to begin. So he had got to be the reason for it all to end.
He didn't want to be saved, even though deep down, buried in the core of his soul, he knew that he's always dreamt of having to be rescued.
There was a chance that his death would have only made things worse; that his survival was the key to everything.
It was not. Will had to get over with it and rip off the band-aid.
Will was sick and tired of always being the one to be saved, he wanted to save and come into his own as a young man without constantly being babied by the ones he's surrounded by.
He didn't have much air left and so his dreams of being a savior.
Dreams fade away and nightmares stay. He would take nightmares to his grave and leave his dreams in the world. This was just how it was.
He never got what he wanted. Instead; he had to face what he feared and worried about the most, like being kidnapped by a monster into another darker version of what he once called home. Having to survive a week in that place at the brink of death. Suffering from a post-traumatic stress disorder at the age of thirteen. Being possessed by another superdimensional creature and killing a bunch of government guys in that possessed state that same year. Falling in love with his boy best friend in the 80's. Being ignored and neglected by that same person for two whole summers. Being called out for not wanting to grow up and have girlfriends by that same person. Being bullied for being a homosexual since he was just a child; before he even knew what it meant or that he, indeed, was one of those.
All that suffering and pain just for Will to end up killing himself by the age of sixteen. Weren't films supposed to end well and wrap up every character's arc nicely? His was tragic.
What a tragedy. What a tragic end. William Byers had drowned twice. He had been buried twice. He had been grieved over twice and he never had gotten the chance to tell his knight in shining armour about his feelings twice.
His eyelids opened one last time. Air bubbles escaped his mouth and water entered his lungs. Arms and legs all stretched out. His clothes weighed him down to sink deeper into the unknown.
He had never gotten to live before he died twice.
Oxygen left his body completely by the time he could finish his thoughts.
He couldn't breathe in or out at all anymore. He could no longer smell the fishy lake. He couldn't hear. He couldn't see at all.
With that, William Byers was no longer William Byers, but a lifeless water corpse that once had a future, a past and a present. Will's unconscious body had a family, friends, love; unreciprocated love. It had hopes, fears and dreams.
Oh, how much he had dreamt. His lights are out faster than how he realised his body had fallen through matter and time. He got sucked into a black hole which name was death.
The goal, his goal, was to save everyone, but himself. He did not die a hero though.
Mike paced around the dim lit room impatiently. Strong theoretical hands squeezed the living hell out of his tight throat. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel his rough hands fiddling with one another subconsciously.
He scanned the room for any sign of Will, in spite of the fact that he most likely wouldn't sit on the brownish patterned sofa reading X-Men. Will was missing.
It's a day since someone, most likely Will Byers, was last seen on a boat at Lovers Lake in the middle of the night, so the witness said. The next morning Mike had woken up to an empty sleeping bag and a cream colored envelope beside his bed.
He didn't think much of it at first. Mike didn't think it was for him to open.
But then his heart dropped to his guts when Will didn't return by the evening.
So here he was, anxious to the point it left him nonverbal. Shut down. His throat swallowed and absorbed his unspoken words. They're just thoughts, mourning and yearning ones.
He had no idea where Will was, that he had been keeping all of this weight to himself or that this could've been prevented if Mike wasn't so obnoxious and obsessed with himself.
He was furious. Angry at himself for being so selfish and stubborn he didn't even notice Will was stuggling heavily.
It had cost him a friend. A bond. A life. The life of someone he wasn't aware he needed the most until they were gone. Left behind. So now, it was his turn to struggle.
Mike pulled out the letter out his pocket to read it once again. He hoped he would read a complete different one. A better one.
"Dear Mike,
by the time you read this, I'm already missing--"
What did this even mean? By the time he read this, Will was already gone. Missing. Just like in November 1983, except this time he wasn't taken by a superdimensional monster without a face, but he took himself.
Except this time Mike wasn't so convinced Will was actually well, breathing and hiding. He hid all his life after all.
By the time Mike's nose began to tingle, his eyes turned glossy. He clenched his jaw. Was this his fault?
"I'm not sure if you even noticed I'm gone. Well, maybe you did, since everything gets better without me. Hopefully."
Oh, Mike noticed.
He always noticed.
He noticed every single and tiny thing about Will.
Mike always noticed when Will changed his mannerism just slightly around people their age, because Will did not want to come off nerdier or weirder than he already was. Mike noticed Will's hair changing a lot lately; it had been messier. Mike noticed how Will's eyes turned to a dark chocolate brown from this hazel shade in his possessed state. Mike noticed whenever Will was quieter, despite the fact that Will is quiet.
And so did Joyce notice that morning. A sob escaped his mouth as he kept pacing around.
Since the apocalypse began and the Byers' moved in with the Wheeler's, Mike and Will had been bound together all day and night and when they weren't by each others side, they were either using the bathroom or fighting - even though they barely fought.
So when Joyce noticed Mike came down to have breakfast alone that morning and he looked as if he was on the brink of slumber, she wondered if there had been something going on between them last night.
This was unusual
"Good morning...Where's Will?" she interrogated with a soft voice, placing fine china plates on the clothed wooden table as his own mother, Karen, made pancakes by the counter in the kitchen.
His eyes had scanned the warm dining room for Will before he sat down on the opposite of his sister Nancy and Will's brother Jonathan. Mike picked at his cuticles.
He spoke up bluntly, eyeing Joyce, "I thought you would know." His voice sounded rougher than he intended it to sound.
Her right eye brow lifted. "Nope," she remarked, popping the 'p'. Mike's sleepy face turned a shade paler and his heart skipped a beat.
"What?" he returned with a raised voice, looking shaken up. He froze.
"Shouldn't you know? You guys are basically glued onto each other's hip," Nancy pointed out, resting her face on her hand. Mike squinted his eyes before he inhaled to speak.
His own thoughts cut him off.
Maybe he should've opened the envelope before coming down to eat. His lips pressed together tightly. "You know what? I'm not hungry yet," Mike stated.
He stomped off without leaning the chair by the table.
Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mike didn't have a very great feeling about this. His door hit the blue wallpaper with force and Mike picked up the envelope and sat down on his bed. He ripped it open. A letter?
"Dear Mike,"
So it was for him. Will never wrote letters for Mike. If Will had a problem with Mike, he would've usually told him face to face. Mike's stomach slightly lopsided at that thought. Will must have been feeling like Mike wouldn't listen to him if he wrote a whole letter.
Mike swallowed, pressing his lips together.
"by the time you read this, I'm already missing. I'm not sure if you even noticed I'm gone. Well, maybe you did, since everything gets better without me. Hopefully.
Everything started with me, and it would only make sense if it were to end with me. It's for the better.
I mean, I wouldn't get in your way anymore. I wouldn't suffer every day, hoping you would understand this feeling I have been keeping from you. You wouldn't have to pretend to reciprocate out of pity either."
Did Will just confess to Mike? Mike was unsure, it pretty much sounded like that to him though. Mike messed up big time.
His brows created lines.
"Plus, your reputation and life isn't in danger of being ruined. It's a win-win situation, isn't it? Tell my mother I love her and tell Jonathan that--"
That was it. He was making his way to look for Will. And he was going to find him. Bring him home. Mike did not feel like reading more.
Even if Will dying was the only way to defeat the Upside Down and Vecna, Mike would make sure there is another way.
He didn't want to lose Will. He couldn't lose Will.
He needed him more than he wanted to or tolerated it. They harmonised so well together. They didn't have to use words to communicate clear. They knew each other more than themselves. Will was Mike's brain and Mike was Will's limbs and nerves. They went as well together as peanut butter and jelly.
His dark eyes closed. As soon as he opened them up again, tears began to fall endlessly. Mike never knew you could hear your own heart pounding.
His hands made their way to his face, wiping away the tears out of his puffy eyes roughly.
He was going to find Will. By tonight.
He couldn't risk losing him another time. Mike couldn't risk looking for him in the pouring rain at night. Mike couldn't handle seeing Will's decaying corpse in the quarry another time. He couldn't take biking home sobbing with this lump in his throat. Mike certainly could not manage hugging his mother, tugging at her checkered blouse and oozing her shoulder with infinte tears once again.
Mike stood up from the bed. The world spun around him.
He put on a blue patterned sweater rushingly. He didn't care about still wearing his pyjama pants. Mike collected his dirty shoes from the messy floor and put them on while losing his balance a couple of times.
Mike made his way out of his house by the back door, not telling anyone about his plans. Quite frankly, they did not even see him leaving.
So, he sat himself on his blue rusty bike and began riding.
He didn't care how long it was going to take for him to find Will. It didn't matter to him how far he had to bike in order to find Will. He did not give a fuck if he was going to fight a bunch of demodogs in the way. Mike needed Will back. He couldn't let his real decayed body get pulled out of a water this time.
He wanted to save Will. He was determined to.