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Throughout history, it’s always specified the absolute time and exertion it takes to win a war. How you lose a part of yourself when faced with the reality of what man truly is. How on the brink of death, your mind relays every important memory so when you’re inevitably gone at least the darkness feels more welcoming.
Mike has always thought it was a stupid misconception.
Yet, as the Demogorgon prowled towards him hours ago, so many memories flashed through his mind it felt like a film reel on display.
And a certain figure stood at the center of them all.
Another boy, his best-friend, the light glowing at the end of the tunnel and waiting behind Mike’s closing eyes for him.
Even though death felt so close in those moments, so real, that welcoming force buries itself deep within Mike’s chest and causes a warmth to spread so far, he succumbs naturally into the darkness.
He keeps his eyes squeezed shut. Breathes. Feels the tension and sweat that coils under his skin relax.
But, death ultimately never comes.
~+~
They stand in the center of the radio station.
Hours have passed and realizations have been had.
Just like in his memories, except this time it’s his current reality, Mike watches as Will stands in the center of the room.
Every pair of eyes, every gaze, locked onto the boy that was doomed from the beginning.
And wasn’t he in a way?
Will Byers, a boy thrown into a tragedy that’s changed him in so many ways and now is conforming him into the weapon Hawkins needs him to be.
Mike feels sick from the thought and swallows, remembering back to one of the last lessons they learned in history class-
The Trojan War, sometimes described as both myth and history, was a battle fought at the ancient city of Troy. The decade-long war was sparked by the abduction of Helen, and led by the main Greek hero Achilles when he was only seventeen years old. His close relationship with another Greek figure, Patroclus, ultimately pushed Achilles and the Greeks to win the war after Patroclus was killed pretending to be Achilles to rally their army. Achilles would shortly follow him in death, however…
A part of what makes myths live on is their multitude. The way different individuals can retell them throughout every generation. How people can look in on these stories, and feel so unexplainably connected to them that it changes perspectives.
Mike remembers how listening about the Trojan War changed him. How a part of him sees himself in Patroclus. How, without realizing it, Mike suppressed his passion for being needed within the resentment he expended.
And hell, did he expend so much resentment towards Will during these last three months. But, the recent lesson shifted something inside of him. Made him look inward on who he was, and who he’s trying to be now.
That gnawing feeling of always wanting to be helpful is a part of him just as much as the blood that flows through his veins. How he and Patroclus share the same desire to lead with compassion and loyalty in times where people look to them.
When Achilles inevitably needs them.
The thought invades Mike’s mind before he can stop it. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t thought about it before though.
Patroclus and Achilles.
Mike and Will.
Aren’t they all just two sides of the same coin, revolving around each other through a universe destined to pull them apart.
“Mike!” A voice yells. Abruptly, immediately pulling Mike out of his racing mind.
Oh, it’s Will.
Of course it’s Will.
Standing there and staring at him with wide-eyes. His hair is still an absolute mess of sweat and debris from earlier. There’s still a hint of dried blood under one side of his nose.
Despite it all, Mike sees right past it. Instead, he notices the way Will is holding himself taller suddenly. How there isn’t a shadow of fear in his eyes anymore. How for the first time since Vecna and the upside down consumed him, he looks completely and extraordinarily whole.
“Sorry… what were you saying?”
Everyone around the room stares at him confused.
Will gives him a concerned look, but folds his arms across his chest. “Everyone was wondering if there was anything else that happened or you saw before we left the MAC-Z.”
Right, of course they’d be asking him, Mike, that question considering Will had passed out almost immediately after killing the Demogorgons and Joyce was too busy tending to her son to even be aware what was going on around them. It left Mike to not only get them all safely out of the military zone, but also back to the radio station.
Only, the small problem is, Mike was practically on autopilot that entire time. Yes, he got them out, he got them here. But the whole time only one thought replayed through his brain-
Please be ok.
Please be ok.
Please be ok.
So, no. Mike didn’t necessarily notice anything that was life-threatening or Vecna related, but everything else was a blur in the background of his main focus. Getting Will to safety.
“No- no I didn’t really see or notice anything that would be new, jaw dropping information besides the stunt you pulled back there.” He responds.
Mike can see the visible blush that blossoms over Will's cheeks at the compliment. It makes something bright and warm build in his chest.
“So, what do we do now? Because I for one don’t want to sit around and wait for Will’s now enhanced goosies to come back without us being prepared.” Steve says, glancing around the room.
Lucas and Dustin basically nod their heads in agreement. Mike watches as his sister moves her attention from Steve, to Jonathan, and then ultimately to where Will is still standing in between them all.
“How about we let Will rest.” Nancy proposes as Jonathan moves around the room to grab a bag in the corner. “And some of us go on watch while everyone else takes the time they need to recharge.”
Steve nods along, grabbing some random comic lying around that’s definitely Dustin’s before heading upstairs and outside. Quickly, like they were both waiting for something to do, Lucas and Dustin bolt up the stairs after him.
Jonathan then returns with the bag, handing it to his brother and giving him one of the biggest hugs Mike’s ever seen before him and Nancy disappear down a nearby hall.
Suddenly, even though the room is emptier than it normally is, it feels ten times smaller. With less people in the room, there’s only so many places Mike can focus his attention on that aren’t on the boy across from him.
It’s literally just himself, Robin, Mrs. Byers, and Will.
Mike thinks he’s forgotten how to breathe.
“Here, let’s get you cleaned up a bit before you lay down.” Mrs. Byers suggests to her youngest son before helping him with the backpack in his still trembling hands and leading him towards the bathroom.
Mike swallows hard, a knot forming low in his gut as he watches Will disappear from his sight. It’s weird, he usually likes being alone. The presence of others doesn’t usually bring comfort to Mike like it would normal people. If anything, it puts him more on edge. Exposed. More eyes that can see his imperfections, read his secrets better than he can himself.
But, he’s realized Will is the exception.
Never under Will’s eyes does Mike feel wrong, scrutinized. Under his gaze, he’s just a boy who loves D&D and wears his heart on his sleeve.
“You ok?” Someone, no not someone, Robin breaks Mike’s train of thought.
He turns, staring at where she now sits at the nearby table. One of her legs is pulled up to her chest and she has almost a knowing look etched across her face.
“Oh… yeah I’m fine.” He mutters and goes to sit down across from her. Maybe sitting down will stop the way his head’s currently spinning. “Just tired from everything.”
Robin doesn’t look convinced, but also doesn’t push. “Understandable, you guys have been through a lot.”
Mike nods, half-listening, half internally freaking the fuck out because it’s been only three minutes and he needs to see Will. Make sure he’s alright still. That he’s safe.
She must pick up on Mike’s evolving distress over the situation, because all of a sudden there’s a warm pressure of fingers laying over his own on the table.
“It’s ok to be scared.” Robin says softly between them. Then, she hesitates for a moment. Like she wants to elaborate further, but ultimately doesn’t. “You’re allowed to worry about him. It’s ok to care.”
Something about the way she speaks, sees through him, an underlying meaning to her words that Mike doesn’t fully grasp.
You can care.
It’s almost like being given the "privilege" cracks something wide open deep inside Mike’s heart and has tears building in the corners of his eyes. Robin isn’t finding any of this weird, or unnatural. She’s just sitting here, supporting a feeling Mike honestly doesn’t understand but she knows all too well.
After a couple minutes, Mike collects himself to the best of his abilities.
“Thank you.” Is all he can manage to get out before the soft noise of a door reopening creaks behind him.
Will.
And oh, everything bright and good returns like it never left.
Robin wastes no time scooting out of her seat at the table and gives Mike a mischievous wink before heading upstairs and outside to be with the others.
He confuses at her antics briefly, but doesn’t really have much time to think about it before Mrs. Byers is in front of him. She still wears a worried and exhausted expression across her face.
“Can you please stay with him?” She asks with pleading eyes. “He keeps telling me he’s ok and that he’ll be fine alone, but after everything I can’t rest without knowing someone else is here with him.”
Why me?
For almost the last three months, Mike couldn’t think of anything that would’ve made him more uncomfortable than the position he’s currently in. But now. Now, it’s almost like he’s wanted nothing more.
Perhaps, such things pass for virtue among the gods, he thinks. Do they get enjoyment over watching his silence and restraint meld into his being? If the divine see concealment as righteous, then is he - Mike - honorable in their eyes. He doesn’t feel like he is.
Patroclus never masked his truth for the appease of others. Where is the valor in hiding one’s self just because of the pressure society places on them.
So be it… How can you find glory in a spirit that only hides.
“Of course I will.”
~+~
The last three months of Mike’s life passed like time itself was slowed down.
It was just another day at the Wheeler’s household all those weeks ago. A day he unknowingly woke up to and went about like normal.
Walking downstairs, greeting his parents, sitting across from Will at breakfast. Sharing tired smiles and a box of cereal.
The normalcy of it all made Mike happier than it really should’ve. Like Will hasn’t been living here for just over a year and a half, but his entire life.
In a way, he has. The boy has been visiting the Wheeler’s house since he was six, but there’s another layer to it now.
Mike gets to see him in the early hours of the morning. Still half-asleep and hair sticking up in every direction. He gets to annoy him until the late hours of the night, watching as exhaustion pokes at Will’s eyes but still continuing to listen to Mike’s rambling. And even in between all the chaos and turmoil of being forced into such a close proximity together for so long, they still chose to spend every free moment either sprawled out reading comics or playing video games shoulder-to-shoulder downstairs.
The greedy part of Mike hoped that this could somehow last forever.
Well, he did until that day.
The day he had said goodbye to his family, Will. The comfortable life he’d secretly wished for himself but would never admit, and went to visit El in between one of her training sessions.
He thought it would be nice, normal, brief just like the past several of these dates had been. He couldn’t even call them dates though, not when every romantic emotion was drained between the two of them.
Mike thought it was just from El’s intense training schedule Hopper had made for her, or the immense pressure she no doubt was feeling with Vecna still hiding in the shadows.
But, what he didn’t expect was for El to open her mouth almost right when he got there and say, “I think we should break up.”
Mike’s heartbeat stumbled, his throat constricted. A tidal wave of emotions crashed over and swept him under immediate waves of despair. The words might’ve landed softly, but they hit like a fucking truck.
For the first time in all his years of living, Mike Wheeler felt totally helpless.
He didn’t speak. Couldn’t find the words to say. Everything inside his chest twisted. All the surprise, confusion, and anger melding together to cut a knife straight through his already breaking heart.
There was no way to fix it, she didn’t need him anymore.
That realization had Mike reeling in on himself. The part of him that thrives, that yearns, for being needed completely dissipated.
“I’m sorry.” El gave him a weak smile. Trying to soften the blow, but failing anyway.
Across from her, Mike sat motionless, staring down at his hands like they belonged to someone else entirely.
The words that had always come out wrong, or too late, or not at all - they all choked him now. Trapped completely behind the jagged feeling that’d been forming in his ribcage.
There was really only one thought persistently running through his mind and he had to get it out.
“What about the painting?”
“What painting…?”
And that earth-shattering, heart-breaking truth not only destroyed a part of Mike that day, but also went to ruin every single memory, interaction, and overall relationship he’d had with the boy living with him for the last fifteen months.
~+~
Staring at Will now, Mike remembers every fight caused since that day. Every word left unsaid between them. Every cold shoulder and hard glare. Even the tension that’s been prevalent in Will’s body since then is still here. Now. Looking at Mike and only seeing the boy who ultimately abandoned him.
And he should honestly.
Mike might’ve been hurt, grieving that last part of himself that was clinging to a reality where he knew the outcome of his future. A future with El. A safe, normal future. But, then that future was torn from him. The reality he was preparing himself for swept out from under his feet and opening up new possibilities he wasn’t ready for.
Denial is an easier feeling to harness than any form of acceptance. For his entire life practically, Mike has denied his true self to his friends. Family. Himself.
He’s pushed his insecurities onto almost everyone else, and most of all Will. The realization of knowing who actually made the painting, cared about him in that way, hyperactivated that pit of denial deep within Mike’s gut and made him lash out in so many ways. Too many ways. None of which Will deserved.
Yet, Mike never apologized. Has never tried to mend what he’s broken between them.
Out of fear?
Fear of Will not accepting his apology, or fear of something else entirely.
After their dispute, after Achilles refused to fight, Mike remembers how Patroclus and him never apologized to each other. Instead they disagreed, they fought, and in his final acts something inside Patroclus cracked open and pushed him to take on a responsibility he was never destined to. He wasn’t a fighter, never had been.
Mike isn’t a fighter. Although others might disagree, they don’t know that deep inside him is only the fear of what war could turn him into.
A man?
A monster?
But isn’t man ultimately just a monster in the end.
Patroclus died because of his love for his people. His love for Achilles. Despite his fear of fighting, he adorned the armor so they could win the war. He never apologized to Achilles because he knew walking into death’s arms would ignite something within his friend, companion, that not even love could.
Avengence.
And it might’ve won them the war, but it destroyed a part of Achilles in the wake of it all.
Mike doesn’t want to fight, but he knows now he would in a second. He’d wear the invisible armor and walk into battle in the name of the boy across from him just like Patroclus had.
“Are you- uh…” Will finally speaks. Stumbles over his words. This is the first time they’ve legitimately been by themselves in the same room without tearing each other's heads off since that day. “Are you just going to stand there all night?”
Mike doesn’t know if it’s from the craziness that’s been their evening for the reasoning behind why Will is talking to him with such sincerity in his voice, or something else entirely. He doesn’t question it. If Will is talking to him, then they might be baby-stepping in the right direction back to how they used to be.
“I- no. Sorry, I think I’m still just in the shock of it all.” Mike motions around him, then looks directly at Will. “Of you.”
Mike immediately thinks he’s said something wrong. That those baby-steps he thought they were taking are halted and going backwards. Will visibly cringes at his words. Like he’s folded in on himself and made a home inside the walls of his skin.
“No! Sorry- that’s not what I meant.” Mike is instantly spitting out. Trying desperately to convince the other boy that he doesn’t view him like Will is definitely imagining he is right now.
Will inhales a short, clipped breath and sits back on the couch. Taking in Mike’s words and letting them settle over his shaking bones.
“You didn’t think I looked scary… like him?” Will’s voice is so soft, so small.
Mike pauses mid-movement, eyes glued to the brunette’s terror-filled expression. Although he isn’t on the brink of death anymore, Mike sees memories flash to the forefront of his mind that mirror this exact situation from years ago-
Will sat on the couch, small, hunched over and elbows resting on his pacing knees. His fingers twisted in the hem of his too long sleeves. Mike watched him, always watching him. Will’s eyes weren’t blank or glassed over, far-off in the way they got sometimes when he was slipping somewhere else. He was here, present, and scared. And maybe that was worse.
Mike stopped his mindless pacing.
“Okay, tell me again.” He said, softer. Trying his best not to scare his friend.
Will drew in a shaky breath. “I just- I keep feeling it. The Mind Flayer. Like something’s coming. Like I’m… different.”
He wouldn’t look up.
Mike’s chest tightened. Something protective bloomed inside him. Something fierce.
“Hey.” He muttered, moving to sit down beside Will so they were shoulder to shoulder. “You’re not different.”
He wanted Will to believe him so badly. Needed him to believe him.
“Ever since the Upside Down, everyone thinks I am. They look at me and either think I’m fragile or dangerous.” Will whispered out, like even just saying it out loud makes this a reality he doesn’t want for himself.
“Not me.” Mike instantly responded. Too quickly, his heart kicked. “Not ever.”
Will finally lifted his head. His eyes were wide, red-rimmed, scared. He looked at Mike like he was trying to seek an answer he didn’t know how to ask.
“All this stuff you’re feeling right now-” Mike held his gaze, steady. There. “It might be scary, but it doesn’t make you crazy.”
“What if it does though…” Will’s voice had wavered.
The question hit Mike straight in the stomach. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and mirroring Will’s position. Without realizing, their shoulders brushed.
“Then we go crazy together.”
He meant it. Every syllable. Mike remembers the second he said it, something in him clicked. The same way something was clicking inside him now. The same way it has every moment throughout their lives when Will’s disappeared and something inside Mike has cracked open and rearranged itself in a shape that’s pointed directly, stubbornly, and entirely towards Will Byers.
“No, you didn’t look scary or like him.” The words are pouring out of Mike before he can stop them. Every emotion, memory, flooding through his brain and pushing him to say what he’s been hiding for so long. “You looked extraordinary.”
And then it’s out there in the open.
It hangs between them, both too scared to grab ahold and leap.
Will stares at him. Like he isn’t fully processing what Mike just said to him.
Honestly, Mike isn’t either.
This was wrong, wasn’t it? Dangerous. Will was a boy; Mike was a boy. Just like Achilles and Patroclus. One a prince, the other an exile. Achilles, beloved and destined greatness. Patroclus, outcasted and no destiny worth naming. Will who’s kind, loved, and now a sorcerer destined to destroy the very thing that created him. And Mike, helpless, tragic, and a ghost of the person he once knew himself to be.
“You still have blood under your nose.” Mike hates the silence. He blurts out the first thing he notices to try and pull their attention away from his stupidity. This is equally as stupid.
Will lifts his hand to feel around the skin under his nose, prodding momentarily at the dried blood he now realizes is still there from earlier.
“Oh…” Is all he manages to say. Surprise is still evident in his eyes.
Mike’s hands twitch at his hands. Itching to reach out, help wipe the blood away. At one point in time he would’ve been able to. Like it wasn’t even a second thought. But now, the air hangs around them heavy and filled with tension that’s been building up for too long.
They both know it won’t take much for something to finally push it over the edge.
Probably attempting to avoid that exact thing from happening, Will quietly excuses himself back to the bathroom and away from the lingering uneasiness between them.
But Mike can’t watch him walk away and leave again. He won’t let him disappear without him.
He follows behind Will without really thinking about the consequences.
Will is about to close the bathroom door when a hand sneaks into the doorway, halting it. Mike’s hand. The other boy gazes at him with pure confusion and goes to say something when Mike cuts him off.
“I’m sorry.”
Two words that have needed to be said for so long now. Patroclus never got to say them, Mike won’t make the same mistake. Even if he’s too late.
Will goes to open his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again, but no words are forming on his tongue. Like shock has purely consumed his soul and left him speechless.
“Let me help… let me do something. Please.” He pleads, almost pitiful sounding. But Mike doesn’t care anymore. Not when it comes to this.
A part of him thinks Will’s going to slam the door right in his face. Lock it and never open up any form of himself to Mike again. But, there’s a decision made in Will’s eyes. One that has him side-stepping out of the doorway and creating a space for Mike to come in.
Will hands him the small rag he’s holding as Mike moves into the bathroom and stands just barely two feet across from him.
They remain there for a moment. Staring at each other. Both too afraid they’re going to say the wrong thing. Mike terrified he’s going to make this somehow even worse. He takes Will’s silence as him not wanting to talk right now, so instead Mike moves past him to wet the towel. Needing something to do with his hands, keep his mind busy so he doesn’t freak out and run.
Will’s sitting on the toilet when he finally turns around.
Even in the dimly lit bathroom of the radio station, he still manages to make Mike’s breath catch in his throat.
As he reaches for him, without even really thinking, Mike goes back to all the nights he’s lain awake unknowingly craving this. Their closeness he deeply missed. The smile Will always wore which mirrored the sun itself.
Will stiffens as the rag barely makes contact with his skin. Eyes running over the entirety of Mike’s face, but he pretends not to notice. Like he’s looking for cracks in the mask Mike’s been wearing since they reunited after California. Since he’s lived with him. Since their fight.
Mike swallows, hand steady but fingers shaking as he finally drags the damp towel over the blood.
Will’s breath hitches softly, almost involuntarily at the pressure. Mike feels the warmth of it against his wrist.
They’re so close. Too close in a way that makes Mike’s ribs compress. In a way that should feel strange with everything that’s broken between them, but it doesn’t. As Mike wipes the cloth over Will’s skin, it almost feels like the most natural thing in the world.
“Why… after all this time?” Will whispers out into the quiet that’s settled over them.
“I-I…” Mike stammers. His heartbeat quickens. “I couldn’t live with the fact that I almost died, and my only regret I had was not apologizing to you.”
There’s a sharp inhale across from him. Tears peek at the corners of Will’s eyes.
“I thought you hated me. After our fight… after you found out the truth behind the painting.” Mike’s own eyes threaten to fill with tears as Will emphasizes the one thing that ultimately brought them here.
What brought Achilles and Patroclus to their ends.
Love.
A solitary life offers few blessings, but sometimes - like a star falling to earth - another spirit brushes against your own. How Will’s melded into Mike’s.
Mike, for a while now, has known Will loves him. Not even just from the reveal of the painting, but in the way he looks at him. How he holds onto every one of his words.
Once again, the denial cemented in Mike’s bones pushed away the revelation at the time. Pushed away his best-friend. His confused emotions.
He didn’t know what to feel. What was ok. It wasn’t until that damn history lesson when Mike began to understand it’s ok to feel. Too long for something that isn’t normal. Nothing about Patroclus and Achilles was normal, yet their story is taught throughout the world.
“I could never hate you Will.” Mike admits.
Will looks at him, really looks at him then. Mike knows he can see the worry creasing in his brow, the softness that was in his voice. The earnestness behind his words.
“I’m sorry too. For the painting, for everything it caused.” The brunette says. “I miss you. I miss what it was like before.”
Will’s eyes flicker with something scared and fragile. But, even now, he looks at Mike like he matters more than anything in the world.
And suddenly Mike realizes with terrifying, absolute clarity he doesn’t want to go back to the way it was before.
“I don’t.” Mike knows his words immediately come out wrong as he says them.
Will physically flinches at the weight of them. Freezing, sucking in a breath that visibly causes him to shake. He goes to move out of the bathroom, away from Mike, but he stops him.
Mike presses his palm firmly against the other boy’s chest, eyes begging him to stay.
“I mean-” He’s never been good with words. With feelings. They always somehow know how to sit just right in his throat. Constricting his airway and never allowing him to properly speak. “I’ve missed you for so long. Longer than our fight. Longer than since you moved in.”
A truth Mike hadn’t even admitted to himself until now.
“I think a part of me has always hidden myself to everyone. Our friends, my family, but what I’ve realized over the months is there’s only one person I don’t hide myself from. You.” Mike inhales deeply. He feels like every ounce of oxygen is being pulled from his lungs, tightening his throat and making it hard for his sentences to form. But he needs to say this, he needs Will to know.
“And maybe that makes me broken in some way, but god Will. Not being able to talk with you, laugh with you, or be my complete and unapologetic self has ruined me more than anything else. So no, I don’t want to go back to the way we were before…”
Mike pauses. He’s so close to saying it. If he speaks that last piece of confession that’s racing through his mind, then there’s no going back. There’s an acceptance he will have to face that he doesn’t even know if he’s ready for.
Falling in love with a god isn’t a death sentence, but rather only a doomed tragedy if the god loves you back.
And isn’t that exactly what Patroclus and Achilles were. A doomed tragedy sitting at the seat of Troy. A mere mortal falling for the champion deemed by the gods.
Is that what he and Will would inevitably become?
If there’s one thing the gods love more than war, it’s tragedy. Honestly, who is Mike to deny them what they want anymore.
“...Because, if we go back to those versions of ourselves, then it’s the version of me that’s still afraid to love you.”
Time slows.
Minutes pass.
Mike can feel the thundering of his own heartbeat pumping in his ears. He’s faced monsters before- real ones, but nothing compares to the way his chest tightens now and fear runs up his spine.
The silence stretches between them, and neither of them can find the words to fill it.
Will’s frozen, in shock, fear, something even heavier. More tears gather at the corners of his eyes, shining like stars held too long. “You…” He chokes outs, voice breaking. “Y-You don’t have to say that just for me.”
“I’m not.” Mike responds instantly. Somehow, he’s remembered how to speak again. “This isn’t pity, or guilt, or me trying to fix things. It’s- It’s me finally being honest.”
“B-But how can you be sure? How can you know you’re actually like me? How can you know you love me…”
“Because I’ve wanted to do this for longer than I even knew what my feelings were.”
Will looks up suddenly and the world practically shifts when he meets Mike’s gaze.
Not dramatically. Not with lightning or monsters rumbling the Earth. But with something small and enormous all at once. Like two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together after being separated for eternity.
Mike leans forward, his forehead resting softly against Will’s. Their breaths quickening and mixing together in closing distance between them. Mike drops the rag he didn’t realize he was still holding entirely, and moves his hands up to cup the other boy’s face with trembling palms.
He closes his eyelids, letting the darkness from earlier consume him again, but this time death doesn’t wait in the shadows. In the darkness, two souls reach out, and meet in an everlasting vow of love.
Mike kisses him.
And kisses him.
And kisses him some more until both of their lungs are burning and Will’s having to pull just barely away to catch his breath. His fist’s still twisted firmly in Mike’s shirt though. Like letting go will inevitably make him register what they’re doing and have him running away.
He’s wrong though. Mike isn’t going anywhere.
“I’d like you to know. I’ve never once thought you were broken.” Will quietly, breathlessly whispers between them.
Something raw and delicate cracks inside Mike at his words. He looks at Will, really looks at him. At the freckles, the softness, the vulnerability now peeking out of the other’s eyes.
This is what poets write about. This right here.
Two boys, scared of the love they share, but tragic enough to have the courage to love each other despite it.
“Yeah…?” Mike asks.
“Yeah, nothing about you is broken. You might not know, but I see exactly who you are.” Will says and now he’s the one cupping Mike’s face. “You’re Michael Wheeler. Brother to Nancy and Holly Wheeler. Son of Karen and Ted Wheeler. You’re the leader of our party. Paladin of our game. And most importantly the heart and soul of our group.”
Tears are spilling down Mike’s cheeks. Don’t know when they started, but can’t seem to get them to stop. It doesn’t matter though. Will just smiles at him with the same grin Mike has always loved and brushes them away with his thumbs.
Then, there’s a press of lips against his own again.
This time it’s slower though. Careful. Deliberate in the way Will is only softly pressing his lips against Mike’s own, grounding him. Letting him know he’s here. That he loves him and everything’s ok. They’re ok.
“I can’t lose you.” Mike mumbles out into the air around them.
“You’re not going to lose me. Not again. Not ever.” Will sounds like he’s promising, but Mike knows deep down he can’t.
“You don’t know that… With your new powers Hawkins is going to need you. And that will be more important than how much I need you.”
“No it won’t.”
“Yes it will, and you know it.”
“Stop!” Will says then, abruptly. He grabs both of Mike’s hands with his own. “I’m going to tell you a secret. A good one. The gods, Vecna. They envy us, you know. They envy us because unlike them, we’re mortal. Because any moment could potentially be our last, everything between us is more beautiful because of it.”
Will rubs soothing circles into Mike’s palms. His throats run dry, tongue twisted in more ways than one.
Just like Achilles and Patroclus, Mike and Will are one beautiful, doomed tragedy.
“I don’t know what to say.” Mike admits.
“Say, ‘don’t go.’”
Mike lifts his head then from where it had fallen to stare at the floor. Will stares at him. A pleading in his eyes that begs for Mike to say those words.
“Don’t go… Don’t go to Troy.”
Will smiles at him then. Face brightening in a way Mike hasn’t seen in a very long time.
“I won’t. I never will…” Will moves his hands to cradle Mike’s cheeks again, scanning his face for any doubt still lying there. “And if for some reason destiny forces my hand away from yours and into battle. Then I’ll unwillingly go with hopefully you by my side.”
A god and mortal.
A lover and fighter.
A boy destined to become a weapon, and the boy who loved him despite it.
That never-ending ache of love and sorrow beats within Mike’s chest. Perhaps, in some other reality he could refuse. Deny every part of himself from being thrown into a war that was never his to fight. Make Will face this choice, this destiny alone. But, he can’t.
Mike loves him. It’s as simple as that.
Will might have to sail to Troy, and Mike will ultimately follow.
Like Patroclus had followed Achilles.
“Yes.” Mike mutters. “Yes, of course.”
He will never leave him again. It will always be this, for as long as time grants them.
And inevitably, when a hand pulls either of them into the darkness that waits beyond…
Mike knows he’ll follow Will in death just as easily as Will will follow him.