Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dim morning light flickers through the soft, illuminated curtains of Wills new bedroom, flooding the room in warm orange. The sun has been a really rare occurrence in the latest autumn weeks. Since the beginning of the so called „partial apocalypse“ rain and thunderstorms have been happening basically every single day. The October breeze keeps blowing through the open window into Williams messed up room. One of his sweaters is still laying scrambled across the provisional carpet, not far his pants, socks and the white, worn out, white adidas sneakers. Coming home from the latest emergency meeting he had just kicked them off. Well if you can call this, home. The fixed up cabin, shared with El, Jonathan, Joyce and of course Hopper, hasn’t really gained any more charme than a year ago.

The feeling of could air against his back really starts to piss Will of. He really doesn’t have the energy right now to pull the blanket over his face or even get up and close the bloody window. He had left it open after taking a smoke yesterday and he could punch himself for not closing it. His shoulders now really start to freeze and his head hurts like hell. Why does every single morning have to start like this? The stinging pain is the only thing getting him out of bed, well and the urge to grab a cig.

The dusty mattress squeaks underneath him, only sitting up sets his head spinning. Vision white, sparks of light flickering around before his room comes into vision. Still the same closet, still the same, small shelf and still the same, old carpet covering the wooden floor to make the room look a little less depressing. It’s better than the worn out couch Jonathan has to sleep on, Will got lucky to get a room for himself, well under the current conditions. The swirl of thoughts gets quickly drowned with the flicking of his lighter. When the flame finally sets, he lights the cigarette and takes a long, soothing, morning drag. The smoke fills his cold lungs and the thoughts become more bearable. William leans against the window frame, the colour had already begun to flake off, even though it’s only been about six months since he had panted it with Hopper.

The silence is nice, still, it gives him time to think and breathe. A familiar feeling creeps up his spine, so he rests his head on his palm and starts tapping the ash onto the ground outside the window. Its still glowing red but as it seals down the fire slowly goes out. The air feels crisp and it reminds him of Mike. Fucking Mike Wheeler.

He shakes his head. Will really try’s to push the thought away, only to face burning pain in his fingers. „Shit!“ The cigarette had burned his hand. He curses like Hopper does every single morning, when he stumps his foot on the kitchen table. He flicks the small stub away before finally closing the window. Hopefully his mom won’t smell anything, course she’s a smoker herself but she’s been railing about this topic for ages. Her voice echoes in Wills head, over and over again: Don’t smoke, you don’t wanna end up like me. Don’t drink, you don’t wanna end up like your father. Don’t do weed, you don’t wanna end up like your brother. She’s only worried about him, sure who isn’t worried about William Byers. Its a dilemma, of course, but his „drug problem“ was easier to think about than a certain raven haired boy.

Will gets dressed, the same as always, sweater, pants, socks and shoes. He stuffs his books into his backpack and walks into the small kitchen. El sits at the wooden table, waffles on her plate and phone in hand. He almost trips over the cord connecting her to the phone box on the wall. „Who‘re you talking to?“ He asks, stumbling around the kitchen to grab himself some coffee. „It’s Max, she’s about to get out of hospital.“ She’s been on the phone with her since she’s woken up from her coma a few weeks ago. He had already forgotten about that, the drain of every school day going exactly after the same pattern had his mind hypnotised twenty four seven. Getting up, smoking, breakfast, biking to school, the football players calling him a fag in the hallway, class, sketching on his papers, looking over at Mike, smoking in the breaks so nobody notices, biking to Mikes house, talking though the current state of the apocalypse, staring at Mike when he explains something, biking home, smoking, crying and finally (if he’s lucky) sleeping. „That’s really nice.“ Will smiles at her, the coffee tastes awful but it helps with the headache. He feels guilty, looking at her like nothing ever happened, smiling, like he doesn’t have disgustingly deep feelings for her boyfriend.

His thoughts spiral, why does he have to be like this? A fairy, a fag? His throat feels tight and the white foam on his coffee had started to mix with the rest of the dark brown substance. The sting in his chest is burning, the guilt, the fear, but the disgust, the violent, violent disgust of himself is worse.
A nudge against his arm and a warm hand on his shoulder rip him out of his haze like a fish out of icy water. „Morning kiddo… didn’t sleep well?“ Hopper joined them in the kitchen, like always not fully dressed and really really hungry. „It’s fine. Just the usual“ Is all William says, and the usual means insomnia, bad dreams, headaches. Everything he’s had since they came back to Hawkins. Not one night of warm, nice sleep. „Your mum is at work, I’ll drive you to school k?“ Hopper has a smile on his face, a soft one, an honest one. His beard has grown out and the wrinkles on his face started to get a little deeper, but that might be normal for someone who just got out of a russian jail.

„Yea, sure.“ Will says, giving him a smile, practically speaking as a thank you. „Could you drop me off at the mall after school? I wanna shop something for Max…“ El adds, when did she hang up the phone? Will‘s head keeps spinning again and his nausea continues, it’s so god damn annoying. Nevertheless she sits up and takes her stuff to get going. „You coming Will?“ She asks, he notices how numbly he had just stood in the kitchen, looking at his - now cold - coffee. „Yea, yea I’ll get going!“ He reply’s, bringing the cup down a little too hard on the cold kitchen counter before walking out of the kitchen and into the hallway where El had been waiting.

The sound of a table cracking and cursing that would traumatise Will and El if they weren’t so used to it, sets them both laughing violently. Hopper stumbles into the hallway and rips the door open to get them outside. „I swear one more time and I’ll fucking burn that table.“ That’s what he always says.
Every. Single. Morning.
Will smiles about it, and it’s an honest one.

Chapter Text

„Have a nice day at school“ is all Hopper says, as he drops them off at Hawkins high. The bang of the car’s door slamming shut gives Will a feeling of unsettling annoyance. Why does he have to attend highschool anyway? The end of the world is literally few streets from the big, gray building.

El talks about everything and anything as they walk to class. William dosen’t listen. The grass under his feet feels moist, unnaturally moist, it feels like he’s sinking into the concrete floor as soon as he steps off the green. The air is too thick, he can see his breath on this exceptionally cold morning but it feels like he’s choking.

First class: Biology, of course.
The school building smells horrible, sanitary, like the hospital where Max is recovering. The morning sun is suppressed by the artificial neon laps on the too high ceiling. Another thing pissing William off.
The tap on his shoulder sets his head spinning. Michael. He turns around. „Hey.“ Allmost black eyes stare down at him, smile on crimson lips, dimples digging into pale cheeks. „Hey.“ Will‘s voice is straddled, breathy, mesmerised by

the sight,

the smell,

the sound.

Of his best friend. They stare at each other. Too much time passes, it feels way more intimate than it should. And all William does is smile, smile with his teeth showing, like pearls on a string, the two front ones slightly bigger, like those of a rabbit.
Mikes gaze flickers, down, down the perfectly shaped nose that reminds him of his own in the mirror but nicer, thicker, softer. Over the perking cupids bow and to the flushed, perfect lips. These few seconds, they feel like hours.
Every time they dare to share a gaze or even a small touch this had happened. By now this ritual has become more common.

But ether way Michael feels scared.

And William feels terrified.

„How are you?“ Mikes voice is so soft. Its always like this when he’s talking to him. And Will, Will wants to answer, he really does. He wants to talk to him for ages. Ripping off the bandage and spilling all his disgusting desires out of his broken heart. He just opens his mouth, to at least reply with a kind ‚Yea I’m fine, how are you?‘ or ‚I didn’t sleep very well, but it’s fine’.

His plan gets smashed that second, by the loud bang of a locker and a shout of „Hey there, faggot!“
William groans, rolling his eyes, same as always. „Just don’t look.“ He tells Mike. His eyes staring up at him, knowing what will come next. „I’m going over there and punch tose bastards.“ Mike scrunches his nose, he’s pissed, really pissed. He try’s to stump past William but fails. There’s a soft touch, a firm warmth against his chest. Will had pressed his palm against Michael’s torso. „Please, you’ll make it worse than it already is.“ Mike frowns, thick, raven eyebrows knit together. „Will, they’ve been talking that shit since you came back from California.“ William lifts his hand off his chest. „And it won’t change anything if you kick their butts.“

The bell rings. As they walk down the painfully white hallway towards biology, Dustin and Lucas join in. There isn’t much talking. Dustin’s grief lays thick the air like the smell of rotten meat. It’s been over a year since Eddie had passed away. But it didn’t seem like he’s gotten any better. Will‘s worried. Of course he is, a violent one sided crush on Mike Wheeler, doesn’t blind him from having empathy with his friends. „Maybe we could do a campaign after school…“ Will suggests. Lucas and Mike are positive about the idea, Dustin remains calm. It’s sad, really. „Maybe we could watch a movie afterwards.“ Lucas adds. „El and Max could come over.“ Will rolls his eyes.
Of course the girls will come.

As they sit down on their desks he already imagines how the evening will go. El and Mike haven’t been with one another since months, they didn’t even talk much in school. They’ll probably be snogging each others faces off as soon as they get the chance. Sure they should distract themselves from the end of the world and all, act like normal teenagers. But every single time Will could shoot himself for wanting to be El, to be the one snogging Michael fucking Wheeler.
He fidgets with his pen, the bruise from his cigarette burns from the cold metal pressing against it.

The gaze of his best Friend lingers on Will. Mike has started staining whenever Will was focused on something, just like his pen right now. He shouldn’t be doing this, it’s not right. He should be looking at El, at his girlfriend. They hadn’t talked in forever. They hadn’t even met up in private the thought of her doesn’t feel good. It never had. In contrast to watching how the boy next to him is playing with the pen in his bruised hand. How did he manage that again? „Will, how’d you hurt your hand?“ Mikes whisper causes immediate reaction. Williams head turns and he smiles, averting his eyes as soon as they meet Mikes, frightened, but in a addictive way. He opens his mouth, whispering back. „Just burned myself, it was an accident.“ They smile at each other, a cherishing, almost loving smile. Mike‘s lips part and Will swears he could have said anything but what he actually does. „Be more careful next time, I hate seeing you hurt…“

William was straggled. The concrete feels more firm as he walks out of school, not as wobbly as this morning. Waiting for the others to go get to Mikes’ seems draining.
So he lights himself a cig. Each contact to his lips and smoke kissing his lungs helps him calm down, sort out his feelings.
The way Mike and him looked at each other was normal, he was used to that. But the comment he made in biology? Will couldn’t describe how much he loves this side of Micheal. The soft side, the side wanting to protect, the side he wanted to be his.
The stinging pain of the constant headache is getting worse, he can hear shooting. The military base isn’t far from here so there might be another outburst from the upside down. But that isn’t new.

Will sighs, he leans against the brick wall of his smoking spot and taps the ash onto the ground. He can see the red of the gate down at the trailer park, the wind blows the acid smell over. He scrunches up his nose and finishes his last drag, looking down at the stump in his hand.
Will wonders what Mike would say if he found out. Not only about him smoking, let alone doing weed to help him sleep some nights.
But everything, nobody wants a fag as their best friend. He’d be terrified, disgusted if he knew how much William Byers liked him.
The thought feels like a stab, a stab right into his chest, so he puts out the leftover of his cigarette. Grabbing a new one form the worn out Marlboro package, placing it between his lips to light it and silence those thoughts, feels good.

„Hey.“ His head turns abruptly, fuck. Mike.
William drops his lighter, the cig almost falling from his mouth as the gaze of brown eyes strucks him like lightning. A smile tugs at Michael’s crimson lips, he bends down, picking the lighter up from the dusty grass. Will just stands there, not daring to move an inch or say anything. Until the raven haired boy simply stands up again, facing Will. „You should be more careful, it could break…“
He smiles, both smile with surreal, loving affection. „Lighters aren’t that expensive“ is all William can reply, he’s drawn in by these mesmerising, unnaturally dark pupils…

they look like the awfully bitter coffee he had this morning.

He reaches out to grab the lighter from Mikes pale hand but he doesn’t get that far.
Mike had already pulled the lighter up to his face, flicked it twice and lit him the cigarette. „There you go.“ He says with a grin, one that Will doesn’t know, that doesn’t look right…
But Mikes minted breath fanning his face and his hand pressing the still warm lighter into his bruised palm feels too good to overthink the small detail.
His fingers trace the burn mark, they feel cold, colder than usual. „You’re hands shouldn’t be hurt… they are so soft and warm.“ it’s perfect, what he says, but somehow Mikes voice sounds off…

very off.

Will flinches, trying to pull his hand from Mikes but he can’t. The grip had tightened around his wrist… his breath hitches, he stares into black,

empty eyes.

„Mike? Mike?!“ Wills breath is heavy, the air feels thick and panic creeps into his nerves. He screams, screams for help, for anything, trying desperately to free himself from the cold grip. Forcing himself not to look up into Michael’s face scrunching and peeling into Vecnas crooked grin. He doesn’t want to hear his words… but they are there… right there in his head:
„I know what you are William Byers… aren’t you ashamed? Aren’t you embarrassed? You know it’ll never go away…

that desire,

that sickess “

Will cry’s, he cry’s and cry’s and cry’s. Hot tears rushing in endless streams over his face. Eyes tightly shut, hoping, praying Vecna would leave him be.

„Oh don’t cry, death will be so sweet, sweeter than your disgusting existence
and you’ll make a perfect soldier for my army..“

Wills eyes shoot open,
the first thing he recognises is the smell of burned grass, blood and faded smoke, then the view down to the trailer park. He just stood there, terrified, confused and somehow relieved. He picks up everything he just dropped and stuffs it back into his pocket. The silence is too loud, too less for such a moment. His breath is too even for the amount of adrenaline flowing through his body.

He hears steps, familiar ones on the hard concrete. Then the sound of Mikes voice.
„Hey. Will are you alright? You’re… you’re nose I like… bleeding.“
Will taps his fingers against the damp skin, looking at pure red. „Oh… I.. I didn’t notice..“ is all he’s able to reply. The weight of the moment lasts, he just stares at his fingers, then at Micheal. And within seconds he feels rough, wollen fabric against his nose. Mike has pulled up the sleeve of his blue sweater and wiped the stain from his face.

They just stare at each other, and the brown is softer, like the cream of Wills morning coffee not the pitch black liquid. He’s looking into kind, honest worry. This is real.

This. Is. Real.

William wants to cry, to scream, to tell Mike what has happened only seconds ago… fall into his arms and drown in his soul.

But he simply can‘t.

Mikes hand quickly finds his place in his pocket again. „Will, what happened? You look…“ His eyes are searching for meaning, for explanation but they don’t find any. Will just scuffs, giving him a drained smile. „I don’t know, it’s fine don’t worry about me.“
Mike wraps an arm around his shoulders and leads him down towards the parking lot where Lucas and Dustin were waiting. - Right the campaign.
„You exited Byers?“
Mike asks, giving him a look that could wipe any worry away from William’s face,
even if it‘s the worry of his imminent death.

Chapter Text

The walk to Mikes house seemed exhaustingly long. The sun had begun to roll down to kiss the horizon… drowning the air in soft melancholy. Will gazes over to stare into the bright red and orange sky… the light feels warm, warmer than this morning. And his chest feels a little less tight as he watches how the clouds merge around the gigant ball of fire.
It’ll rain tomorrow, Will is sure of that.

There was mixed conversation drifting form one topic to another. Well if there were any variety in choosing which to switch between. It was simply the usual: Planning the campaign, movie night and talking about girlfriends.
Yea right, their girlfriends. Lucas, Dustin and Michael.

They had those, they had romantic feelings for them… maybe even sexual ones.
They stare at the girls in the hallway and get bricked up about those magazines Will had found under Jonathan’s bed a few years ago.
That was normal behaviour. Totally normal for 17 year old teenagers.

Just not for Will.

It felt unsettling, hearing about all that. Of course.

-and if you’re different you feel like a mistake.-

William feels sick to his stomach, memory floods his mind and it seems like he’s a paper boat pushed around the waves of a merciless ocean. He sighs, why can’t he get even a tiny a moment of peace? Without shame or regret or… he gazes over at Mike who was just discussing what movie they’d lend from the store…
or yearning.
It feels good to see him smile, to watch the setting sun paint shadows around his nose and illuminate his freckles. But the sting doesn’t leave. It never does.

„Steve will help pick out the movie, maybe we’ll even get a discount.“ Dustin reply’s, Mike nods and Lucas argues if Steve has any taste in movies.
Will doesn’t really care, he just wants to get into bed, finally get some sleep and maybe get a little high. He doesn’t really care actually, anything that keeps his thoughts away from Mike or Vecna.

The movie store is warm, warmer than the outside and Will‘s sweating in his thick jacket. It smells like the arcade just a little sweeter, maybe because of Steve’s hairspray or conditioner.
Robin stands behind the counter and paints her nails. It looks pretty, Will thinks, but he’d do it better. The stars are a little crooked because her hands are too shaky. The girl looks up and tilts her neck back to shout. „Steve, your kids are here!“
Will smiles, she’s funny. Funnier than most people he knows.
Steve stumbles from the back of the store, the carpet floor squeaks under his shoes. „They’re not my kids!“ They talk and talk and talk. Just to pick out a fucking movie.

Will‘s only interest is Robin right now, the way she’s focused on painting a small star onto her thumb. She slips and her entire nail is black, before she realised it the polish falls over. „Shit, Shit, Shit.“ She curses. Will laughs, separating himself from the others and helping her clean off the mess on the counter.
„Fuck, thank you. I’m so goddamn clumsy.“ Robin stutters, her nails look horrible now if Will would’ve been honest. „No, it’s fine I break things all the time.“ He smiles and Robin raises an eyebrow. „You’re the Byers boy right?“ She asks. And it feels werd the way she looks him up and down. So he scratches his sweaty neck and reply’s with a simple. „Yea, it’s Will.“
Robins face twists into a grin. „Nice to meet you Will, it’s Robin.“
She smiles at him,

a strangely familiar and understanding smile.

She gets up and hops onto the counter, her converse are covered in little drawings and words. Will can make out body parts… female ones. Naked women sketched to the white rubber.
He stares, not quite sure what to think of.

„You like them?“ Robin asks, dangling her feet for emphasis. Will rips his gaze off her feet and switches to stare into her face. „Yea, I mean no, I mean they are really unique…“ is all he replies.
The question why she had those on her shoes was for another occasion.
Not here, not now, is what Will thinks.
Robin breaks the awkward silence. Looking down at her messed up nails then up at William with a sarcastic smile. “My date’s in an hour, you think I can show up like this?” Will laughs, he really does, teeth showing, dimples digging into his cheeks. “No please don’t.” He says, giggles mixing between the words.
“You wanna help me fix them?”
Wills laugh falls silent. He looks at Robin, trying to make out if she’s actually being serious. Even though he really is uncertain, Will reply’s.
“Sure why not.”
Robin grins, she pats the place next to her on the counter and hands Will the sma bottle of polish. The glass feels cold against his finders and the lid squeaks as he opens it. He apply‘s the color in soft strokes, perfect and smooth.
„You’re really good at this!“ she says.
Will, focused on the small brush, gives her a shy smile. Why is she so nice to him? Isn’t it weird for a boy to be good at things like this? Ether way he answers. „Maybe it’s cause i paint so much.“
Robin looks like she could explode at any moment. „You paint? That’s so cool! I play theatre and I was in the drama club at your age and…“ she trails off. Talking so much and Will, unlike the conversation he heard walking here, likes listening to it.
He feels known, understood, not like the rest of the day.

They have a simple, nice, conversation, even though Robin does most of it.
„Ey Will, you fine with Star Wars?“ Mike had come up to them and held up the DVD. „Sure…“ Of course William is fine with Star Wars. Mike smiles back,
like an idiot actually. He started staring again, fuck.
Robin lifts an eyebrow.

„We should get going…“ Michael says, fumbling through his dark curls. They were just cut, Will likes the way they fall around his face now, even though the long ones were nice too.
As Dustin, Steve and Lucas approach he presses the nail polish back into Robins hands. Hopping off the counter, Will takes his backpack onto his shoulders, ready to leave.
The doorbell of the store rings.
A short, red haired, young woman had pushed the door open. She grins and her high voice outs. „Hi, is Robin here?“
Not only Will‘s, everyone’s heads turn around towards Robin. She was still siting on the store‘s counter, waiting for her nails to dry.
As soon as she sees the girl, a wide smile spreads on her lips, she hops off the counter and walks straight up to her. „Vickie!“ Robin‘s arms wrap around her and they hug,
like long, longer most girls do when they meet up.
Will gazes over to the others.
Steve was leaning against one of the shelves watching with a smile, Dustin and Lucas were grinning at one another and exchanging knowing looks. And Mike. Mike looked at him.
With big, coffee brown eyes and crimson cheeks.
Averting his gaze, Will snatches his head back. Robin had snatched her jacket from behind the counter and walked back to the other girl. „We‘d be off, thanks Steve for covering my shift!“ Robin says, Steve laughs before replying.
„Yea, it’s fine. Have fun on your date, im happy it’s not the muppet your going out with!“
Will just stands there, progressing.

Wait. What?

Robin rolls her eyes and wraps her arm around Vickie, pushing the door open and they leave into the cold autumn evening.
Robin was with a girl. Another girl. She was, she was different.

Just like him.

Will‘s chest feels warm, he had just stood there, looking at the entry of the shop. When he’s able to rip his eyes from the glass door, the party had already decided to leave. As soon as he turns to face the others, to at least say goodbye to Steve the words immediately get stuck.
Like a deer he was looking into he headlights of Michael’s eyes.
They were weirdly melancholic, soft and shimmering with too much water. He looks away, quickly. Will‘s throat makes a unedifying sound, like a fish choking on air.

They leave. Finally.
Cold air fans through Will‘s hair, he had grown it out a little. It looked a little like Mike’s, but just when the wind was blowing through it in the right angle.
His head felt lighter, like pounds of steel had fallen from his brain. Small tumbles of water had started falling from the sky, it smells like a fresh start. It washes away the smell of the Upside Down.
The feeling is incredible.

Inside of Mikes home, the party had hung their jackets up on the hall stand. The water was dripping onto the wooden floor, building a small reflective lake.
They brush off their shoes, rushing down the hallway towards the basement.
Karen wasn’t home and Ted was laying in front of the TV not even noticing the teens slip past him. Will was glad, really. Dad‘s weren’t his thing.
The basement smelled like home. Better than the cabin, better than California.
Will leans his backpack against the small comic desk, before settling on the couch.
Mike pulls the DnD box off the shelf, how did he manage to get even taller?
Will had grown. Like a lot. Puberty had pulled at his limbs and muscles. The thought of Mike became more than a yearning fantasy. It had turned into a disaster,
one that would rip put his soul if he wouldn’t suffocate it in smoke or puke it onto a canvas.
A cig would be nice. Will thinks, spreading his arms to stretch. Looking at Mike like this felt good, disgustingly good. Watching his long fingers move the small figures out of the box. The way he chews on his lip, focused and calm. And the shadows of his lashes, drawing patterns across his porcelain skin.
Will wonders if Michael could feel it. The way he looked at him.
His heart throbs, pressing against his ribs, the flesh feels like it’ll burst.
But Will stays. He stays in place, on the worn out polyester of the couch. It’s hard, not to reach out and caress the other boy. To press his chest against his, and feel if his heart aces the same way.

Maybe it would be okay.
Maybe it wouldn’t be wrong.
Maybe he could be like Robin.

The evening goes just as planned. DnD was great. Well looking at Mike for hours was. Until the doorbell rung. The girls.
Will wasn’t as annoyed as he thought he’d be.
They gather at the door, exited. As Mike opens, El had a smile on her face. The party stared, El had picked Max up from the Hospital. She was still sitting in the silvery polished wheelchair. Her fire hair had grown long enough to fall over her chest and reach her stomach.
Her eyes had that dimmed shimmer, like two polished pearls. Will remembers seeing them for the first time and realising she lost her ability to see.
Ether way she was smiling, greeting everyone and advising El to push her into the warm hallway.
It was nice having everyone here.
Ted had finally sat up on the armchair, making space for everyone to use the TV. He never did that, under normal circumstances. But the blind, red haired girl made the difference.
While everyone hopped onto the couch, Lucas lifted Max out of the steel structure and carried her to where Ted just sat. Mike and El don’t talk. They sit on the opposite sides of the couch, the tension feels so thick, Will could cut it with a kitchen knife. He’s pressed up against Michael, the sofa actually way too small to fit all of them, even with Dustin sitting on the floor.
It felt weird,
the sensation on Will’s neck was growing stronger. The feeling of Vecna, of death. Mike‘s warm shoulder and thigh touching his feels heavenly. The fear and euphoria rushes through his body, mixing a bittersweet cocktail on the back of his throat. Icy sweat irrupts from his skin, his hands feel hot and he want‘s nothing more than run away.

„Will, are you okey?“ Mikes voice is soft, low and full of care.

William‘s mind runs at a thousand miles per hour.
Before he knows it, he had stood up from the couch and practically run out of the living room, through the kitchen and down the hallway. Taking his still wet jacket, slipping into his shoes and bumping into Nancy before he’s out in the pouring rain.

He doesn’t know how long he ran before he slips on the flooded concrete.
He had started crying.
Hot, salty tears had started pouring from his tired eyes.
His knee was cut open but there was no pain. It felt like relief.
Like the mess of his insides had finally found a way out.

He breaths the moist air,
standing and letting the rain soak him up.

Chapter Text

The old couch cushions felt cold. The space were William had sat was now empty. The TV was still humming softly and remained the only source of sound in the quiet room. Mike had stopped breathing. He just sat there, looking between the space next to him and the door.
He wanted to run after William.
He really did.
But he just sat there.
Staring.
Nobody said a word. Not El, not Lucas, not even Dustin. The first one to speak up was Max. Asking where Will had gone.

Before Mike could even think of an answer Nancy rushed into the living room. Their heads turned and stared at her.
She had her arms crossed over her chest and seemed utterly confused.
„What the fuck happened?“ She asked.

And Mike feels sick.

He didn’t go after Will. The other boy could be hurt or even worse but Michael Wheeler just couldn’t move a single fucking muscle in his lanky body. The way Nancy looked at him, brows knit together, concerned eyes knowing exactly what he was thinking.

He didn’t know what to say, what to do. His face felt hot, body cold and heavy. All eyes kept lingering on him, waiting for an answer. El‘s gaze felt like needles pinching into his skin. Lucas was whispering something to Max, Mike didn’t catch.

He can hear his heart beating up to his throat, were the nausea had became overwhelming.

He stands up, just like Will had done only twenty minutes ago.

Mike pushes his trembling body past Nancy and stumbles up the stairs and into the cold tiled bathroom. He manages to flick the small light on before kneeling onto the freezing floor. The porcelain of the toilet feels icy to his sweaty palms and the floor is too hard for his bony knees.

Tears shoot into his eyes as the vomit moves up his throat.

He didn’t know for how long he’d puked his guts out but he soon feels a warm hand on his shoulder.
Nancy had sat next to him and leaned against the bathtub. Her hand was brushing circles on his back.

She didn’t say anything, and it was fine.

Mike’s gagging stops and he lifts his head. Nancy pushes the metal on top to flush and he watches the thrown up food mix with the water and disappear.

Michael can’t help the crying, he feels too much too suddenly and suppressing dosn’t help anymore.

Nancy is taking him in her arms.
The warmth feels good. Spilling his hot tears into her striped sweater feels good.
As she pulls away, she hands Mike a glass of water before asking. „You wanna tell me what’s wrong?“

Mike avoids her gaze. He really wanted to tell her what was going on inside his head. But if he couldn’t even explain it to himself, how should he explain it to someone else?
Especially Nancy.
How would she react if he told her everything?
The unbearable pressure of staying with El. The way she looked at him like he was a wounded animal - Like she felt bad for him.
Avoiding her, not to face the truth.
Not to rip off the bandage and talk through his feelings.
His guilt.
His sins.

The way he finally felt fulfilled as the boy on the swings didn’t turn him down.
How he couldn’t bear a second of Will‘s absence since then.
How his vanishing was the worst thing he ever experienced.
The way he’s never had any romantic feelings for El and how he only was able to kiss her when he thought about how she looked like William Byers.

A Boy.

Being reminded of how wrong that was every single Sunday at church.
How the priest would read these words and how people would look at him.
How their dad knew.
Knew how he could never be with a girl.

How puberty was hell.
The way he couldn’t feel the same about those magazines the party found at Will‘s house.
The way he stole Nancy’s Playgirl and get all fuzzy about the filthy pictures of men inside.
How he would spent hours bawling his eyes out when Will had moved to California.
How he lied to him, lied to El.
Lied to himself.

„I can’t.“ Mike chokes out. His tears hadn’t stopped and started wetting the crook of his neck.
Nancy had lay’d her hand upon his shoulder and rubbed it softly. The air felt thick and the washing machine was making an annoyingly comforting sound.

„You know it’s fine if you don’t wanna talk about it. But I’m your sister and I would never judge my little brother for anything.“ She says. It’s comforting Mike for a few seconds, like hot tea running down his throat. But as the feeling sets. His mind shifts.
Yes she would.
She didn’t know what she was saying, didn’t know what a boy she was looking at right now.
„You don’t- You don’t know what an awful person I am.“ Mike somehow presses the words past his lips, eyes avoiding Nancy. Staring down on his trembling, sweaty hands.
„What do you mean Mike? You’re not a bad person…“ Nancy reply’s, her voice is soft and almost feels like a whisper. Her eyes search for answers, trying to read Mikes face.

It breaks her heart to see him like this.

He is trying to stop the salty tears to spill from his eyes, to breathe normally, but he fails. Michael lets out a tearful cry.
“I cannot tell you. You will hate me.”
The urge to vomit is back in his throat. But there’s nothing left he could throw up.
He can’t look at Nancy, because he knows when he does… he will only see
fear,
disappointment,
disgust.

“Nothing in this world could make me hate you Mike. Nothing. Look at me.” Nancy says, her voice sounds broken, swollen, like she was about to cry herself.
Still Mike refuses.
“Look at me.”
She takes his face, forcing his eyes from the tiled floor.

“I could never hate you. Whatever it is that you’ve carried for so long, it won’t change the fact that I love you. You’re my brother, Michael Wheeler. Nothing will ever change that.”

Mike watches a tear roll down her cheek.
Why can’t he just tell her what’s going on?
Why does this have to be so hard?
“Do you promise?” He presses through his tear wet lips.
Nancy had took him into her arms again and whispered against his shoulder. “I do.”
He was shaking like a leaf in the cold autumn air.
Mike was closing his eyes. Trying to take a deep breath he really wanted to form a clear sentence but ended in a shuttering mess of words. Between them Nancy can only make out one clear statement.

“I don’t like girls, I’m sorry.”

Mikes voice is wobbly and Nancy can feel the spot on her sweater grow even wetter with his tears.
The silence is drowning. He closes his eyes, trying to make the words he’s about to hear easier. The rain was pattering against the small bathroom window, mushing the tones of orange, grey and black of the outside into one another.
Mike expects a yell, a laugh, anything that reassures him that he was right. Right about how she would react.
But instead she clings to Mikes exhausted body, listening to his whispers of sorry‘s.
Then answering.
„It’s okey, I knew.“
His breath is gone, he only chokes out a broken „What?“.
She pulls away, brushes the wet strands of hair out of Mike‘s red, puffy face and gives him a smile.
„I’m your sister. I’ve just noticed.
The way you looked at El. How you stole my magazine two years ago.
And you, you’ve always been my brother. That won’t change.“
She’s smiling, still crying - a mix of both.
It looks bittersweet.
And Mike can’t help to do the same.
To laugh just like her, letting the feeling of relief and acceptance wash over him.
Like the rain outside. Washing away the grey of the past days and dimming the world in a warm night.

They just sit there. Mike doesn’t know for how long, but it feels good.

To rip off the bandage, and letting Nancy see the open wound.

Chapter Text

The days had begun to blur into one another. It’s been almost a week since that day at Mikes house. Since Will had ran away.
Things weren’t getting any better. More like the other way around. William had isolated himself, locked in his room and staring onto the same spot for hours. It was easy, lying to his mom about being sick. She had enough to do anyway. Just like everyone else.

The vinyl had already run through hours ago but Will had just couldn’t bring himself to get up and turn it off. Just like the small pile of stumbled cigarettes on the window frame. He’d been smoking a lot more since. The urge to cry again became more intense the longer he thought about it. It was so shameful not to even be man enough to take proper care of himself. What would Mike think of this?
If he would see him, in his dirty pj pants, greasy hair, sweaty and shirtless. Smelling of blood, tears and smoke.
Let alone the scars on his arms overgrown with fresh, velvet cuts.
Tears spill from his dark eyes. He blinks against the dim light, that spilled from the window and kept him drowned in his comforting melancholy.

Mike wouldn’t care.
He didn’t care.

William continues crying, pushing his wet face into the freshly bandaged skin of his lower arms. He wants someone to come, to knock on his locked door, to break it open and save him. He’s allways wanted the paladin, he had dreamed of, to end this endless nightmare. To wake him up. But nobody came and nobody’s going to come.

The spiral of thoughts finally came to an end as his nails scratch over the healing skin. Soft relief blooms, the dark red patches blur into a sea of flowers and the guilty feeling lifts itself off his heavy chest, only to crush him again the second the metallic scent hits his nose.
Curled into a ball of pure shame, Will could swear his trembling body had started to merge into the bedding. The circle was repeating itself is what he was thinking. It felt like the first month in California but additionally he was chased down by a maniac right now who could only wait for an opportunity like this.

He watched the door carefully, feeling the salty tears wet the sheets underneath him. It’s way to risky to lay like this when everyone could just walk in on him. Joyce knew about his scars but- seeing him in this state?

To catch him in the act.
To catch him in endless self pity.

No - he at least had to clean up the mess. The sudden change of position set his head spinning and the dizzy feeling got overshadowed by the acing headache again. It was so frustrating to be Vecnas god forsaken prey and not even being killed off when he needed it the most.
The way towards the bathroom seemed endless, the wooden floor felt like gummy under his bare feet and when Will reached the bathroom his headache had settled on his left eye. Pounding, aching pain shoots through him. This had been happening more often lately. He should be scared, concerned but he doesn’t have any room for these feelings right now.

The cold water feels soothing against his arm. The blood looses itself between the clear liquid and the smell fades off eventually. Taking the med kit from the dresser, Will starts to bandage the small area. He wanted to do more, he really did. But something in the back of his crushed mind told him to think of some of the consequences. As the soft fabric of the plasters and bandages is perfectly tied to his arm, he mindlessly moves himself towards the kitchen.

He at least had to eat some cereal to get some energy. Maybe a cig.
The bowl is cold against his palms and the glossy milk reminds him of Mike’s skin.
The way he had looked at him that night.
The way he was caring for him and how he didn’t know anything.
Anything about the way he lived with his misery, scarred, addicted.
Let alone his acing, disgusting feelings for him.
It feels better to think of it that way. In these moments it feels right he ran off. The guilt doesn’t swap over him like a drowning wave, it took him into their arms like an old friend.

He just takes the bowl off the counter and walks back to his room to take a smoke.
The window creeks as he opens it and the air sends chills over his naked torso. Clicking his lighter a few times, before thoughts stop spinning. The weight had left his chest and flew off with the soft smoke. The cereal was pretty tasteless but he didn’t really care, at least he could eat without throwing up again. It felt like a small lantern at the end of a dark mine.

The doorbell rung, breaking the soothing silence. Will almost send his breakfast flying out the window. He quickly grabs one of his worn out sweaters to push over his head, walking towards the doorway.
It was probably just the mail or Joyce who forgot something. But no.
As he turns the doorknob he faces a tall, raven haired, freckled boy.

Mikes eyes are blown wide and slip from his face instantly - down to Will’s hands pulling the fabric over his tanned, muscular stomach.

Well maybe not exactly to his hands.

Will leans against the doorframe and chokes out a soft “Hi.”, snapping Mike from his staring.
“Hey. Um- I-“ Mike stutters, trying to reply casual. “I wanted to look after you- um El told me you were sick and I thought I’d come over?” He pressed out. His breath was laboured, his knee was scratches and his bike was laying in the grass like it’s been thrown by someone.

How badly did Mike want to get here?

“That’s kind of you. Thanks.” Is what Will reply’s, before pointing to the sliced fabric of the blue jeans. “Did your bike fell over?” He asks with a smirk, bunny teeth peeking from his dry lips.
Mike just stares at him like a prayer before replying. “Oh, yea I- I slipped on the wet leafs down the road.”
Will couldn’t bring himself not to smile. Mike could always do this - making him feel better.

“I’ll get you a bandage.”
He says with a gentle smile, turning a round and vanishing into the hallway. Mike looks after him with adoration and the cold ache of his heart sprouts into a warming flood.

Chapter Text

The wooden floor creaks underneath Will’s feet. In a werd way he dosn’t feel any disruption by Mike’s presence, even through he sincerely thought that seeing him would make him feel even worse.

He enters the bathroom, grabbing the first aid kit above the sink before staring into the blurry mirror. He really does look sick - like a corpse actually.
The bags under his still teary eyes got more visible from all the senseless crying and kept the contrast to his unusually pale skin. Will brushed the messed up strands of hair in place, to at least look a little more presentable to the boy standing in the hallway.
„Will, are you alright?“
Mike had made his way through the kitchen. He stood there, shoes off, one of his toes peeking through a hole in his blue socks.
„Of course I was just…“ He shrugged, holding up the small, red bag.
„Oh, yea. Right. I was just worried you were like- gone- I thought- maybe you’ve fainted or something. I- I’m sorry It’s stupid I know.“ Mike stutters, his eyes darting around the tiled floor to avoid William‘s gaze.
„No not at all.“ He answers, smile tugging at his lips.

Their eyes meet and the warm flood inside of Mike‘s chest feels like it’s about to burst. Will loved this side of him- the vulnerable one, the one that was protective and full of care. Dimples dig into his pale, freckled cheeks and William could die on the spot.
„I’m just glad you’re fine.“
Mike chuckles under his breath and scratches his long fingers through his curls. The exchange of loving gazes and crooked smiles lasts longer than expected. Will breaks the silence and tugs at Mikes sleeve to pull him into the kitchen and clean up the cut on his knee.

„So you’re gonna fix me up?“ Mike asks, hopping onto the counter and watching William sort out some alcoholic wipes and a bandage. He giggles at his comment and the other boy starts laughing too.
„What?“
He asks with a look that sends Will‘s stomach spinning. The ease to be in his presence, to see him, to hear his voice alone washes away the agony and despair still lingering in Will‘s bones. He can’t stop laughing.
„Be my personal nurse?“
Mike says with a teasing grin and
Will practically cry’s,
he missed this so much.

Laughing at the other boy‘s ridiculous jokes, just the two of them.

„Stop! Or I’m gonna let you bleed to death, I swear!“ Will reply’s, settling in front of the raven haired boy to take care of his knee.
Mike’s gaze lingers on him and he reply’s without thinking.
„Okey, save me with your healing spells my cleric.“

William‘s face feels hot, deep blush fans over his tanned skin and his breath is gone. So he just smiles, smiles up at Michael Wheeler sitting on his kitchen counter.
But he was right, if someone knew how to bandage bruises it was him. So he brings up the small wipe to disinfect the wound, he hold‘s Mike‘s leg still - to sensitive not to twitch away at the burn.
„It’s okey, I know it burns.“
William comforts him, looking up at him and watches Mike play off the stinging pain. It looks sweet when he try’s to act tuff.

When the bandage is on, William brushes his cold hands over the bumpy edges of the material to even out on the taller boy‘s skin.
„You’re hands are really cold.“
Mike says, shivering from the touch while watching Will‘s face. His dark, tired eyes, the moles scattered over his tanned skin especially the one right above his velvet lips. The urge to just reach out, overcome the so small but seemingly endless gap between them, becomes unbearable. Maybe he couldn’t hold his words back, but at least he still had control over the majority of his body.

„I’m sorry.“

Will reply’s and pulls his fingers off the pale, knobby knee. His eyes avoid Mike‘s and the unsettling silence starts to drown him again.
„Don’t be, really. I’m just worried about you.“
Mike gives him an assuring smile. Everything underneath the brown, messed up hair turns red and hot and extremely wobbly.
Will doesn’t know what to do, what to say. It’s been so easy taking to the raven haired boy all his life - but right now. So it’s just thoughts spilling unprocessed from his brain.
„I’m fine really, but it’s nice you care about me.“
Mike just smiles, they both do like idiot‘s.

„I’ll always will.“

Both of their breaths are gone, too focused not to say anything they’ll regret later. The moment feels infinite, like a never ending flood of comforting warmth and blurry bliss. So there’s no was around an interruption.
„Shit!“
Mike breaths out and hops off the counter.
„Fuck, my mom will kill me if I’m late again!“
Will just laughs at him how he try’s to collect his backpack and tumbles over the old, red carpet.
„I’ll get you to the door.“
Will reply’s, waking after the taller boy towards the front door. The tiles creak and and the air feels icy as he enters the small hallway. Mike struggled to get his shoes on and almost forgot his jacket as he basically ran out the door, jelling something before hopping on his bike.

„I’ll see you in school, Will the Wise! And thank you!“

William doesn’t know if he should cry or laugh, but he is attending school tomorrow,
for certain.

Chapter Text

The numbness was back. Will had, well since his possession and run off at the party’s meet-up not felt anything else but confusion and self hatred. But having a certain raven haired boy on his doorstep had regulated the situation.

Like a soft blanket laying itself upon his wounded limbs.

Of course not all of his thoughts could be silenced by Mikes simple act of kindness and of course the back of his mind was still filled with doubt, but it was enough to help him get out of his rusty bed. He could hear Joyce in the kitchen, she and Hopper hab been up late, talking. But William really didn’t care. He just proceeded with his morning ritual. Taking one of the last cigarettes from its small Marlboro package.
He had really smoked dozens the past week of beeing “sick”.
He pulls open the window, paint cracking under his fingers, cold morning air hitting his face. The leafs had startet so gather at the outside of the window frame and William had starter tapping the hot ashes of his cig onto them. The small holes burning into the red and orange crisp kept glowing in the dim light. The mornings were getting darker by now and it felt a little unsettling to Will. Taking another deep drag of smoke and letting the wave of relief drown him.

And for this small moment everything feels a little more okey.

But the door gets pushed open and William turns like he’s been struck by lightning.
As soon as he comes to face the older male his brain turns on like a light switch.

“Hey, Will. Have you seen my….”
Jonathan set up to ask but broke mid sentence. Staring.

Fuck.

He had a fucking cig in hand, his shirt was still off from sleeping, his fresh cuts from yesterday at least covered by the bandages but Jonathan could read him like a book.
And that’s exactly what he does.
William knew it had to happen sooner than later, but Jonathan?

“I can, I can explain!”
He exclaimed, desperately waving off the cigarette smoke and trying to cross his arms to provide Jonathan to see even more. But Jonathan just stares at him. Expression soft, still confused.
He walks over the old persian carpet, bare feet tapping against the worn out material until he stands in front of his little brother.

Tears well up in William’s eyes, he expects anything. Anything but warm arms wrapping him into a hug. Jonathan smells like weed and minty deodorant, his purple sweater felt itchy against Will‘s cheek and the wall he’d build around himself the past two weeks was now completely crushed to pieces.
“It’s fine Will really. I’m not mad at you.“
Jonathan says, peeling himself off Will and watching his tired face. There’s sorrow in his brown eyes as they linger on the patched up skin of his arms. The soft and havy lines merge into one another like a deep forest of birches and seem disturbed by the darkness of the clumped stains of red.
William tangles them in front of his chest and in the purity of his shame he averts his gaze.
„You wanna talk about it? Why you relapsed? I haven’t seen you like this since Lenora…“

Jonathan asks, taking one of the knitted sweaters, scattered on the floor of his little brothers room and handing it to him. Will eagerly snatched it from his hands to pull it over his bedhead. His mind feels empty, soggy like a wet towel. So he answers. Honest words fall from his mouth.

„He got me. Vecna got me.“

William wipes one hand over his face, taking a deep drag from his cig to calm his nerves and he cruses himself for drowning in these senseless feelings over and over again.
He was alright just a few moments ago.
He wasn’t great but he was fucking fine.

Jonathan’s eyes are wide. Like gigantic, glassy, porcelain plates that mirror his expression.
„Are you- Will- I mean, are you sure?“
His voice is wobbly, quiet and fearful.
William shrugs, and pushes the small white bud between his lips to inhale the warm smoke. Along with the puffed, white clouds he mumbles bitter words.

„I think if anyone knows what it feels like to get possessed it’s me…“

Jonathan wraps one of his arms around Will‘s bulky shoulders and leans next to him against the creaky window frame.

„You know he- he uses your fear against you.“

Will chuckles - of course. Of course that bastard could read him like a book and use the small sparks of his soul to burn the fragile paper.
He presses the glowing bits of ashes into the wood next to him before flickering the rest of his cigarette out the window.
He still feels like crying, and if he starts talking again he sure will.

„You know, you can talk to me Will.“

Jonathan says and grips his shoulder a little more firm. He gives his brother a sincere look, wiping off some of the tears that startet spilling from his eyes.
The sight fills William with agony, he could barely contain himself and wishes nothing more but to stop hurting people he loved.

„Yea, I know.“

He reply’s and his voice is like a flood of water pouring from the sky. Jonathan helps him breathe and comforts him, just like he did when he caught him in the act two years ago.

„If you need me, I’m always there. It’s important that you start talking about what you’re feeling…“

Jonathan coughs a little, choking on the clump in his throat.
„If it’s out, if you talk about it. Maybe he can’t hurt you with it anymore. Like- like he‘ll be holding a blunt knife.“

William can only nod and hug his big brother once more. Joyce is yelling from the kitchen for the boys to finally get out of bed and grab breakfast. A burned smell filled the cold air of his room and Jonathan starts laughing. His chest is hopping against Will‘s and he breaks the hug.
„If I’d get a penny for every burned toast in this house I’d be fucking rich.“

Will is grinning, laughing, shoving his face into his hands. It feels like the old times, when Loonie had beaten the shit out of him for finding another one of his „faggot drawings“ and Jonathan still managed to make him laugh. He only had to put on some Bowie, get him a piece of chocolate form the cupboard he couldn’t reach, crack one of his stupid jokes and small William Byers was fine again.

„You’re stupid.“

He mumbles between airy giggles. Giving Jonathan a smile and peeling himself from the window. He grabs his stuff from the small chair next to his desk and throws his backpack over his shoulder. His elder brother follows and puts one of his cold hands on his shoulder with loving reassurance.
„And I won’t tell mom about you smoking.“
William mirrors the gentle smile of his brother, mumbling a thank you before closing the creaking door of his room.
-

He takes his bike to school, the leafs keep falling into his lap or tangle in his brow strands of hair.
The sun had already started to creep behind the soft mountains, Will fills his lounges with the moist air and lets even a little pressure lift off his tight chest.
The military station grew more quiet the closer he got to the depressing school building.
It seems like an eternity had passed since he’d last been to school and the unsettling feeling of making a great mistake is still puckering behind his skull.

Chapter Text

William pushes himself from his rusty bike, stepping onto the rain wet concrete of the school property. His spine feels tense and the throbbing, stinging pain is back behind his eye. By cramping his hands around the rubber handles and breathing deeply he try’s compensates the ache. But without success.

It doesn’t take long until he’s spotted the rest of the party. They had gathered at the metal racks and seemed to be discussing something. Michael, who was just arguing about something shuts his cherry lips the second he meets eyes with the Byers boy.
He sheds him a longing smile and Lucas turns around to catch what his friend was staring at. William just mumbles a „Hi.“ and settles his own bike between Dustins and Mike‘s.
That’s when the questions hit him like a brick.
„What happened Will?“
„Why do you look so tired?“
„Were you actually sick?“
„You know you can tell us if something is wrong.“

Micheal gives him a pleading look and was about to say something but closes his mouth the second Will speaks up.
„It’s fine really. I was simply sick. Why do we even have to talk about it?“
It’s odd to see him like this. He seemed so distant, as if a gigantic cliff had broken from the ground cutting a gaping space between himself and William.
Mike swallows, mind racing, trying so hard to find the gaze of the slightly shorter boy. He at least wanted to give him an assuring look.
To only drown the broken heart of William Byers in pure and sour adoration.
But he turns away, walking off to his class.
Mike goes after him… like a moth drawn to a warm lantern.

The rest of the party just share werd looks, El shrugs with a bitter smile and goes on about her power progress. It’s nice to be back at school and other than California she seemed to be at least somewhat accepted. The bully’s mainly went after the boys, so she appeared to be out of sight. Ether way, the crushing tension between her and Mike made her frown. It’s been over a year since they drifted in this unsettling gap between friends and lovers - well between the designations. There wasn’t anything like a relationship left between the two of them. Eleven was fine with it, really, it was time for her to be her own person, but she missed him.
Not her lover, her friend.

-

William‘s mind was rushing like the sound of an old radio. His eye throbbed, his hands were sweaty and rubbing them against his jeans didn’t help. The hallway felt even more ominous than usual. Looks form the other kids burned holes into his shaking body and the floor felt like it would give in at any second.
When he finally reached his locker, a noise ripped him out of his thousands of thoughts. Like a deer standing in front of a car, Will couldn’t move a limb.
Why hadn’t he thought of the fucking football team when he’d been dumb enough to step a foot into this god forsaken building.

„Hey Byers. How was your little retreat mh?“
The taller boy looked like he was about to start spitting at him.

William just prayed for him to stop fucking talking. To shut his filthy, raging mouth.
But he didn’t, he kept his speech of curses and insults.

„We thought you’d be off a little longer. Aren’t you sore from your little boyfriend? Bet that’s why you’ve been off for so long mh?“

Will‘s fingers tingle, his eye feels like it’s about to pop out of his burning skull and the air feels too thick to breathe.
He can’t rip his gaze from this stupid, disgustingly red face towering above him.
The ringing Williams ears gets louder, his palms sweatier.

He presses his lips together, trying to sew them shut.
He can’t cry, can’t speak, just stare with pure terror.

There’s a boiling in his stomach, pooling through his guts and melting all the lingering feelings into one revolting mass of anger.

Before his brain could stop the impulse, he opens his mouth.
„I was sick.“
He spits the three words into the bullies‘ face.
But the others expression stays. Still red, still mindless, still rooked and scrunched with delight.
„Oh, little faggot Byers got sick huh?“
William digs his nails into the palms of his hands, the sensation of burning pain creeping up into his arms.

„Bet our little fairy here catched himself AIDS!“

The laugh of the other boy‘s gets drowned within the high pitched ringing in William’s ears.
He feels his blood rushing, pumping like hot liquor within his veins.
That’s when his vision merges into a drowning red.

Fist meets flesh.

Blood spills from the other boy‘s lips.

There are people screaming, hands tearing at William’s jacket to keep him from throwing his punches.

He doesn’t stop.

Bones crack as he throws the blonde boy onto the hard floor. There’s red liquid, covering his fists and arms.
Teeth break from the others skull.
White spit and foam spills from Wills gritted teeth.
As the heavy breathing of the other stops - William pulls himself from the lifeless body.
He stands for a minute, some of the kids had ran off, others were trying to perform CPR.
The vision is blurry, fogged images of people staring at him float in a weirdly distant space. So he turns around, letting the unbearable feeling of satisfaction fill him.
There are brown eyes, deep brown eyes staring at him from across the room.
Michael stood there, between the other students, lips parted, dark brows knitted together and breath ragged. He takes a hesitant step forward, parting his lips to say something.
William can’t bear it - the sight of him.
His legs drag him towards the other boy, who searches his face for any form of justification.
Their shoulders brush up against each other as William pushes himself past him.
Mike looks after him, watching how his ragged steps grow faster.
His feet had merged into the concrete floor, not able to move a muscle, so he just stands and stares.
-

Will runs, runs as fast and as long as he can. Until the numb feeling gives away to the oppressive swell of guilt and sadness.
Hot tears run over his stained cheeks, warming the cold skin.
The blood had started to dry on his palms and started to draw cracks around his knuckles. The streets of Hawkins seemed different - the odour felt off but there wasn’t any space in his dazed mind to question it.
The nausea, the ache of his eye and the vertigo becomes unbearable. Fogging his brain into thick dust. His lids feel too heavy, the weight of his shoulders seems to crush him -

and before Will noticed his head hit the hard concrete.

Chapter Text

Puffed clouds of oxygen emerged between Mikes crimson lips.
The air felt icy, as if it’ll wrap his lungs in a freezing coat of snow even if he was still standing in the highschool hallway.
Crying didn’t help much.
Some of the kids were scared off and the police had arrived to load the corpse into one of the blinking cars. The party had merged around him, asking what had happened. But he simply whispered a „Will“ under his breath.
El had pressed her palm onto his shoulder and searched Mike‘s face for an explanation she won’t find.
„Where’d he go?“
Mikes gaze switches and his head snaps to the corridor leading towards the main entrance. Small drops of blood were still visible on the white rock tiles.
The sight throws him back to reality.
He catches El‘s frightful expression, nods and finally manages to move his feet from where they had melted into the floor.
„Have you seen what happened?“
El asked over the loud noise of the ambulance outside.
„Yea, he killed that guy.“
Michael‘s voice is wobbly and he isn’t sure if he was even able to keep his legs walking. El only managed to give him a pleading look that he wasn’t able to catch, being to busy to push open the doors to the parking lot.

The air hits their faces with a hot, disgustingly stinging smell of smoke and sharp puke.
The sky was hung by dark, pitch black clouds, lightning struck like whips between them and drowned the city into flaming red. The party stood on the stone carved steps. Micheal‘s eyes were wide, searching for clues where Will had run off to. Dustin had already pulled out his radio phone and tried to contact Steve and Robin. Lucas was already running over the grass and concrete patches towards his bike.
„Where the fuck are you going!?“
Dustin shouted after him. Lucas had already pulled his bike form the metal stands and hopped onto it.
„Max‘s trailer is right next to one of the goddamn gates!“
„Be careful you idiot, call when you’ve got her!“
Dustin answers.

El, Mike and Dustin went after the small blood trail, leading down the street towards the library. Mike ahead, El right after him and Dustin at the back, talking to Steve on the phone. The dystopia of Hawkins really sent chills through the Wheeler Boy‘s body. But searching for an explanation of this outburst from the alternate dimension had to wait until they’ve found William.
The concrete almost seemed to melt beneath Mikes feet and as they turn around the corner of one of the blocks his breath gets stuck in his throat, choking him like a fish on pure air.

There was a body, laying motionless on the cold floor.
Chestnut brown hair, blue jacket, jeans, worn out vans.

Mikes running, running like his life depended on it.
It couldn’t be, it wasn’t possible.
His heart feels like it’ll pound right out of his heaving chest, like a broken clock ringing at every second that passes.
Tears that weren’t heavy enough to spill earlier, run over his heated cheeks.
The only thought is the boy, laying only a few feet away on the ground.
It just couldn’t be happening.
When he finally, after seconds that seem like hours of endless, choking doubt, reaches Williams body, Mike kneels.
He kneels, like he did in front of the priest on Sundays to receive the small, round piece of wafer.
The other boys body is limp as Mike pulls him into his lap.

Pushing the mess of curls into the others chest to hear his heart beating.

His heart was beating.

His heart was beating.

He lifts his head, gazing up into the sweat drenched face of Will. His lids were tightly closed, eyes twitching underneath like he was dreaming. Brown strands of hair stuck to his forehead and a shallow breath emerged from his nostrils.
Blood had dried into copper patches.

Small, thin, black lines creeped back underneath the crook of his neck. They looked like veins, moved like strands of whine. They’re gone in a matter of seconds, leaving Mike with merging worries.
El had kneeled beside him, planting a warm palm on his shoulder.
He didn’t tell her what he saw, only managed to choke out the words.
„He‘s alive.“

She gives Mike a nod, wrapping him in a broken hug before standing up.

„We need to leave, we don’t know what happened or what Vecna is planning.“
El says, while tying her hair into a knot behind her head.

„Steve and Robin will be here at any second.“
Dustin had stuck the metal antenna back into the black phone box and has started picking up William’s backpack and books, that had gathered all over the concrete.

Mike simply sits there, not caring what the two of them might think for only a few minutes.
Watching Will‘s face like it’s a book with millions of words and phrases and pages. It feels too good, too right to watch his friends face with such honesty.

It reminds him of the days at Hawkins lab. Sitting next to Will all day and all night. Studying his face like the map of a great ocean.

He dares to move his hand, pushing Will’s damp hair from his face. His fingers only gaze the cold skin of the others face and he could die on the spot.
Oh to have him like this.
He could just reach out.
Breaking the endless, gaping distance between them.

His thoughts dissolve like sand in loose palms as bright headlights flash his vision.
Dustin walked up to the bright blue car to explain the current situation to Steve and Robin.
William’s body felt way to cold in Mike‘s arms.
So he takes off his jacket, pulling it around Will‘s shoulders.
Taking the boy in his arms and carrying him towards the car felt like a bittersweet dream.
The eyes of the others felt like the predatory laughter of the kids in middle school, even though it wasn’t the same.

He sat in the back, William’s head falling against his shoulder for support. Mike‘s fist clenched the fabric of his jeans and jacket.
Too scared to let go.
Afraid the other boy might dissolve into thin air.

Robin was looking into the front mirror of the car, watching his expression. Her face painted with worry instead of the expected disgust or disappointment.
„What happened? We saw police and soldiers and an ambulance?!“
Is the first thing Steve shouted, before adding.
„And why the fuck does the entire town not only smell but fucking look like an apocalypse is happening?!“
„The apocalypse had been happening for almost two years you dickhead!“
Dustin shouted back.

Robin rolled her eyes and at least tried to prevent them from ripping each other‘s heads off.
„Where the fuck are we going anyway?“

„We’re going to an old radio station a little outside of town, we’ll have the best chances when we plan everything there. Ether way, the police must be looking for Will after what happened.“
Dustin reply’s.

Michael‘s head is spinning like one of the colourful carousel‘s of the 4th of July fair. The scene of discussion what to do while the sounds of shotgun‘s we’re fainting in the distant fog of black.

And as a matter of fact, holding the unconscious body of William Byers in his arms at the back of Steve’s car doesn’t help at all.