Chapter Text
Will had always appreciated that the stairs to the Wheeler’s basement always had a gentle creak to them. It was a nice warning sign– not to say that the Wheelers themselves were dangerous though. He had gotten used to picking up the slightest changes in the floorboards of his own home (before Lenora). He knew his father’s footsteps by the heavy boots he wore that were stained in God-knows how many places. He knew his mother’s gentle tiptoes in socked feet, and he knew Jonathan’s quick movements, as if to make sure he got to Will before their father. Will’s ears were like tiny geniuses, so it was nice when the worn floorboards of the Wheeler’s house amplified his warning bell.
None of the other boys had seemed to notice; that or their ears weren’t trained to pick up the slightest movements. Countless times roaring campaigns had been interrupted by Mrs. Wheeler to the surprise of all but Will. He always knew when she was descending. Maybe it was just the way the house was made- Will couldn’t remember a time when the stairs didn’t creak or the door hinges didn’t scream. Maybe it was from years and years of racing down the stairs to open a new toy or resume the campaign. And just maybe, over the years, some emotional exits from the basement had left those poor floorboards just a bit worse for wear.
So when those floorboards creak in the late evening, Will notices. He sits up a little straighter on Mike’s raggedy old couch, and can’t help but feel embarrassed. He had been unpacking, which really didn’t seem like the right word. With one bag of clothes and no desire at all to take them out, along with nowhere to put them, unpacking was definitely not the right word. There really was no word to describe what he was doing. Thinking, maybe, could work but it truly was so much more than that. He was thinking, and worrying, and planning, but most of all he was staring off into space afraid. That’s not the embarrassing part– everyone was afraid. His fear, however, wasn’t the interdimensional monsters or portal to hell opening up throughout Hawkins. His fear was right at the top of the steps, making the floorboards creak.
Maybe fear wasn’t really the right word either. Unease, maybe? Lenora now seemed like eons ago. He flashed back to the fight at Rink-O-Mania-
“We’re friends! We’re friends.”
A small part of him was afraid that Mike knew, that he knew it all. He knew about why Will had never shown any interest in girls or girlfriends, and why Will was so drawn to Mike. He’s afraid that Mike saw right through his lie about the painting, and that inviting him to stay with his family was part of some giant plant to confront him about it. Mostly, though, he was afraid of losing him. Not as a lover– he has already resolved to himself that will never happen. And he’s content with that, mostly. He’s afraid of his friend slipping further and further from him until he has nobody left.
“Hey dude, are you okay?”
The voice snaps Will back into Mike’s dimly lit basement. God, he looks so good. Mike had gotten taller since the Byers moved away. He never gave himself time to appreciate it in Lenora, or on the road, but now it hits him. The striped shirt that used to swallow him whole now came up just above his jeans. Not enough where it would look weird, but just enough to show a tiny sliver of porcelain skin. Mike’s mom used to joke that he was so light if he cracked his skin it would break like porcelain. Will never really understood what she meant until now. He finally grew into his face, too. No more frogface, now all Will could see was perfection. It was as if Mike had been perfectly crafted out of stone by steady, faithful hands just to taunt him. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, his hair had grown out too. It looked cool, kind of rebellious. It suited him. It said ‘I’m gonna do what I want and you can’t do anything about it’. It made Will sick how much it made him want Mike.
“Yeah, I’m just,uh, thinking. About everything. It’s just so much has happened and I feel like we just got thrown back in the middle of everything.” And there was another thing– Mike’s eyes. The way they followed him and dug a hole into his skull. Mike had a way of looking at him and making him feel like an open book. It was as if every single secret hidden in the depths of his being were gnawing at the bars that enclosed them, yearning to be shared. It was so intimate and humiliating at the same time. Sometimes he imagined Mike’s deep eyes fluttering to his lips for just a second, as if Mike was feeling the same ache in his bones to be completely open. But open for Mike was different than open for Will. Mike’s openness always inspired the party to be their best. Will’s openness would drive them away.
“Well when are we not right in the middle of everything?” Mike says with a quiet laugh. God, Will had missed his laugh. The summer before he left for Lenora they didn’t laugh much. It was just girls, girls, girls. He wished they had laughed more, or really done anything he could have joined in on. California was nice. The beach was certainly beautiful and he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the smell of the salt. His ears were neglected, though, without Mike’s voice. On the road, there wasn’t much to laugh about, so Will was almost able to forget how Mike’s laugh made him feel. Almost. It was like a drug addict who will never truly forget the feeling. If only there was rehab for boys who fell in love with their best friend.
The room fell silent, aside from the rhythmic pattern of Mike's breathing in and out. It seemed ironic, because Will’s lungs felt on the brink of collapse. It wasn’t an awkward silence– not like the ones in Lenora caused by the tension between them. This silence was more familiar. It said ‘I know you and I’m here for you’, rather than ‘I’m holding a grudge’. He wished there was a world in which Mike could know him. He didn’t really believe in alternate universes with alternate endings, given his history, but he liked to believe that in one of them he and Mike are sitting in a silence like this under different circumstances. Maybe Will was normal, and he and Mike were sharing a normal friendly moment like two normal friends would.
Mike’s piercing eyes wandered over to Will. He pretended not to notice. His eyes traced up and down Will’s body, almost staying a moment too long when they reached his lips. A small sigh escaped his pursed lips– so small that nobody would have noticed it given normal circumstances. But Will wasn’t normal, and neither was the situation in which the boys had found themselves. The deafening silence of the room almost seemed to echo Mike’s sigh. His lips in a tight line on his perfectly crafted face piqued Will’s interest. He looked almost longing. His eyes looked at Will’s lips the same way that they had so often peered into his eyes. Will was at a loss for an explanation.
“Mike,” he spoke, in just a whisper. His mouth barely moved as if not to startle the boy next to him.
“Yeah.” Mike’s eyes moved up to meet his. His eyes looked like they wanted something– like they needed something. Will’s breath catched.
“Was there something you needed me for?” He didn’t know how he meant it. Maybe he was asking Mike why he had come downstairs. Maybe, however, he was asking what Mike’s eyes needed so badly when they stared into Will’s own.
“Oh, um, yeah,” he shifted, breaking the tension, “my mom wanted to know if you guys need anything like toothpaste or something from the store.” Mike’s eyes darted around the room, as if to remind himself where he was.
“I think I’m good. Toothpaste was one of the things I actually did pack,” Will joked, “but, um, my mom might need some.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll, uh, go tell my mom.” He left as suddenly as he had arrived, leaving Will with more questions than answers about their future.