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Mike remembers with perfect clarity the moment it became obvious to him that he had jeopardized the most important friendship of his life and there was little chance of returning it to its once perfect form. He’d been making plans with Lucas and Dustin to be useful, to at least try and see what the military was doing in Max’s hospital room when Will had come in, having told them beforehand he would get there late.
Lucas, still devastated and still sporting a bruised face that was just beginning to heal, had hugged Will with all his brutish strength. And Will, he welcomed the hug with a sad but comforting smile. He then hugged Dustin, who barely reacted until it was too late and reciprocated a moment too late – but they all knew he wasn’t doing it to be an asshole. Dustin was not himself after Eddie’s death.
And then Mike, he got a pat to his shoulder. Nothing more. And granted, Mike hadn’t gone through the trauma that Lucas and Dustin had experienced in the last week, except if you counted getting shot at but still. Still. No hug for Mike.
After, he started paying close attention to the way Will interacted with him or to be more accurate, how he avoided Mike. Not in a mean way, not in an obvious way, but subtle things that Mike couldn’t unsee. Scooting away when Mike sat next to him, tight smiles and averted eyes, changing the subject too fast to the upside down when Mike tried to have a friendly chat. For a little while, Mike was angry. He had told Will he wanted to be a team, be best friends and Will had agreed. Cool. But that didn’t happen. Instead Will pulled away. He’s still pulling away.
Mike is all about plans these days and it pays off. The adults don’t treat them like they’re all still twelve anymore and actually include them in the crawls, they know all the information and strategies. It’s a good feeling, among all the shitty things happening. And since he’s so good at plans now, even if Nancy likes to butt in and say she helps (and okay, she does), he makes a simultaneous plan.
Operation Get Will Back. And if it sounds weird, whatever. Calling it Operation Get Your Best Friend Back After You Acted Like a Shitty Friend is too long and too close to home. Too honest.
He starts slow, knowing full well that Will never reacted well to abrupt changes. First, he finds opportunities to build out new crawls with Will alone before going over them with the rest of the crew and to that Will always responds well. He wants to be useful, even more so than the rest of them. Mike wants to remind him each time that he has nothing to prove, that he’s stronger than all of them together and then some, but holds his tongue. He knows Will would retreat back to himself if Mike ever said anything. Eventually, he manages to sneak in other topics and start shifting conversation away from the crawls and more about Will, about their shared interests, about Will’s art. Will resisted, at first, but now they have these conversations constantly and it’s like they’re twelve again but with older bodies, with knowledge they didn’t have back then.
Knowledge that is definitely new to Mike.
Will starts smiling at him again. Not the forced smiles Mike was now used to seeing, but the kind of smile he’s been missing, with his eyes getting smaller and brighter and all his white teeth showing. Dustin mentioned once, in good nature, that he had teeth envy with all of them, but especially when it came to Will. Mike can see why. His smile does light up the room. It’s a shame he rarely smiles these days, ever since that cursed November day. So it feels like an accomplishment, when Will smiles and it’s at Mike or because something Mike did or said.
By the time of their tenth crawl, Will is almost back to normal but still refusing to touch Mike if he can help it. It’s not fair. He has no issues hugging Lucas or Dustin. But never Mike.
(There was one time that things almost went bad during a crawl but Hopper managed to save it last minute and Will and Steve hugged out of pure relief once they all got back. Fucking Steve Harrington, of all people.)
Mike doesn’t sulk. Or maybe he does, but quietly, so unlike what he’s been doing for the last couple of years. And anyway if he sulks, it’s nobody’s business. But if he does it’s only a couple of minutes and he’s back to making plans. It’s a running thing in his head, and it’s only turned off whenever they are on active crawls and Hopper’s life is on their shoulders…all their lives. They all operate under the understanding that they have to have each other’s back, no matter what.
So Mike makes plans for the crew and for himself, he says his goodbyes when he goes out with Lucas and sometimes Nancy or Jonathan to survey the MAC-Z and he comes back to relieved hugs – not Will’s – and often disappointed faces that they still are not even close to that bastard. And during one of these nights with the mix of feelings around them, it occurs to Mike that Will doesn’t touch him, but Mike can, and he takes the opportunity right away.
He throws his arms around Will and holds on to him. He can tell Will is surprised but his arms wrap around Mike’s torso, and Mike can feel the caution in his movements. Mike tightens his hold and doesn’t say anything. He closes his eyes, lets his forehead fall in the space between Will’s shoulder and neck, and lets out a sigh of…something. How long has it been? And who is he kidding? Not even himself, because Mike knows exactly how long it’s been. He remembers their last hug, outside Will’s old house, with both of them crying their eyes out. So this? This feels like the reunion he had stopped himself from having all those months ago at the airport in Lenora.
Why hadn’t he hugged Will then? He’s an idiot, that’s why.
“Uh,” Will stutters. “Are you okay?”
Mike lets go then and he’s cold. His eyes are prickling a little.
“Everything is fine,” he says, even if it feels like a lie. It is a lie. Friends don’t lie. And Mike is a shitty friend, as previously established.
“Are you lying to me?” Will asks in a whisper, but it’s not an accusation. He’s looking at Mike like he’s teasing him, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Totally, I’m the biggest liar of them all,” Mike says with his own ghost of a smile. That’s the first truth out of his mouth for a while now so he defaults back to his half-lies and excuses. “I’m just tired, I guess. My heart almost stopped once when I thought one of those soldiers saw me.”
“But they didn’t,” Will says in a comforting voice. Shockingly, miraculously, Will puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes and doesn’t pull away like Mike is made of acid. “It’s late, we should all go home.” And with one final pat to his shoulder, Will walks past Mike and goes off to a corner of the station, where Eleven is still in Hopper’s arms. Will misses her. They all do. They can only ever see her during crawls now and it’s really getting to her lately – being so isolated again and Hopper going off alone into that hellhole. She insists on going with him but she’s shut down every time. He’ll make time to talk to her, tell her his half-truths that everything will be okay, even if he’s not all that sure.
“Oh man, we have to be here so early tomorrow anyway, I think I’ll just sleep here,” Robin is saying to Steve who is fighting to keep his eyes open.
“I forget it’s your actual job,” Dustin tells her.
“Thank you, Dustin. I’m so glad you apparently think I don’t do anything for my life except assist in crawls,” she answers in the driest tone.
Dustin shrugs and leaves them without a word. He’s getting worse by the day and Mike makes a note to talk to him too, and soon. His eyes meet Will’s and he can tell he is having a similar line of thought because of the line that forms in between his eyes when he’s worried. Mike nods to him, as if to say I’ve got it, I can lead this party and in return he gets one of those quick smiles before his attention is pulled away by Jonathan and Joyce.
Nancy shows up out of nowhere and drags him into a quick hug and then lets go and hits him in the arm. “Hey! What the–” and he is grabbed in another fierce hug.
“You scared me today,” she says. She’s using her tough voice, the one she uses in the mornings when threatening to leave him behind or fighting over the bathroom or breakfast. Except there’s a tremble in her voice this time. She cares. So Mike lets her fuss over him for a minute before pushing her away and tells her to be cool about it and just like that they’re back to normal. She rolls her eyes at him and he repeats the action at her.
Will says goodbye to Eleven with teary eyes. They don’t know when their next crawl will be and each time, it feels like cruel separation. El touches her forehead to Will and tells him she loves him and it’s always a little surprising how close those two got. California had been shit, by both their accounts, both if something good came out of it, that would be how they came to love each other like they’d been there all their lives. Will doesn’t like it when someone says El is like his real sibling. She’s his sister, he’s quick to correct, and that is that.
Eleven takes turns at saying goodbye to the rest of them and Mike goes last. She kisses his cheek and says, “You scared us all. When Lucas said you’d been spotted.”
“But I wasn’t,” he tells her and holds her hand. “I wasn’t.” It’s weird with Eleven now. It’s been weird for months. He still thinks she’s the sun itself and he does love her, but it feels different. Not the kind of love he was expecting to feel. He loves her, and that’s something he knows is true, but why does it feel like a lie whenever he says it the way he should say it?
“I, um,” he starts but she shakes her head with a smile. Maybe things are different for her too, because she just turns around and walks away without another word. He can feel Hopper’s eyes on him the entire interaction and he does his best to ignore the feeling of rocks settling in his stomach.
He showers that night on autopilot and when he sits down in his bed, as if in a daze, he realizes he’s hungry and he hasn’t eaten a thing in hours. There are snacks on his backpack, a backup in case the crawls extended, but he forgot about those the minute that soldier turned around and flashed the light in what seemed to be directly on him. Just as he’s about to stand up and make his way to the kitchen, he hears a knock on his door frame.
Will stands there, with a plate in his hand and still in his jacket. He looks flushed.
“You should eat something,” he says. “I made you a turkey ham sandwich. It’s a little dry because we ran out of mayo, but it’s something.”
Mike pats the space beside him. There’s a hesitance in Will as he walks further into the room and sits next to Mike with a whole space of distance. Mike makes a point of not thinking too much about it. He caused it, but he can fix it. He has to fix it. He takes the plate from Will’s hands and says, “You really are the best person in the world.”
Will rolls his eyes but decidedly looks anywhere but at Mike. “It’s just a sandwich, Mike.”
“You’re still the best person in the world, sandwich or not.” He shrugs and takes a bite. It is dry but still good, he distantly recalls his mother telling him, years ago, that food made with love tastes better. He wants to imagine Will made this with love. “Are you hungry? We can share.”
Will shakes his head. “I ate while we waited at the Squawk.”
“Next time we can share,” Mike says and knocks their knees together. At the action, Will’s eyes finally meet Mike’s.
“Are you really okay?” Will asks him. “It was a close call, Mike. It’s just…you looked so stressed tonight when you got back, before you,” he pauses, a look of uncertainty clouds his eyes and Mike can tell he changes his mind about what to say, “I mean, before we all left.”
“Our hug helped calm me down,” Mike tells him and shifts closer to Will, pretending he just did that to put the plate on his nightstand. He doesn’t move away from Will, keeps their sides close together and that’s how he can tell Will has gone tense all over. “We used to hug all the time when we were kids. Why did we stop?”
“I don’t know,” Will says instantly. As if on autopilot. “We grew up.”
“We hug our other friends.”
“Mike.”
“Will.”
“I don’t know,” Will repeats. “You stopped.” It’s the first time since they got back that anything Will has said sounds like an accusation. And it’s true. So Mike has to own up to it.
“I’m sorry I’m a dumb teenager sometimes,” he says and keeps his tone as light as possible and when his words are received with a smile, he tries again but more seriously. “I really am sorry, Will. I’m trying to be a better friend to you.”
“Mike,” Will sighs. “You don’t have to try anything. You’re…you’re amazing and stupid hugs don’t define that.”
“Still, I’d like to do it again. Hugging.”
“Okay?”
“Right now,” Mike says on impulse. “We should start hugging again right now.” He doesn’t let a moment go by, or for Will to agree, he just throws his arms around Will for the second time that night and squeezes. He was wrong about before being the hug of their reunion. This one, this is the one he feels in his bones is the final piece in the months long puzzle he’s been rebuilding, what seals his friendship with Will again. Operation complete.
Will hugs him back and another puzzle begins in Mike’s head, because it also feels different – good different, scary different. The sort of thing we should feel when…he doesn’t go there. He just squeezes his arms around Will again and closes his eyes.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he notices how good Will’s hair smells and he puts that piece in the new puzzle.