Chapter Text
"How does it feel to treat me like you do?
When you've laid your hands upon me
And told me who you are"
- New Order's "Blue Monday"
The nearest motel they’d been able to find was like any other- beige, depressing, and vaguely dusty. Jonathan had announced to the group that they would sleep for a night and then immediately head towards Hawkins at sunrise. Nobody complained. Even El, determined as she was to save the world, was too drained to argue.
Will let himself be reassured that she was okay. Safe. Even if he knew it was just momentary. Will clung to his reassurance; to the overwhelming protectiveness he felt towards her. He let himself drown in it as he helped her up the stairs to their room, forbidding himself to think about the boy supporting her other shoulder. The boy who was holding her hand; who had clung to her like a lifeline during the whole ride from Surfer Boy Pizza to the stupid motel.
El collapsed on the couch, dragging Mike right along with her as soon as they arrived. The room was dull and dimly lit by a yellowing lamp that stood on a rickety nightstand beside the bed. Will focused on shutting the door behind him; on laying his bag down on the ground gently. He did not focus on the twisting in his ribcage or the way his brain seemed to have short circuited into a broken record of Mike’s searing voice.
He slipped inside the bathroom, not even registering the nasty tiles or the spotty mirror. He turned on the sink and splashed his face, avoiding his reflection. Nowadays, it tended to exist only as a reminder of all the things Will lacked; all the things he would never be. He held onto the edge of the sink for a moment, his face still dripping.
“You okay?”
The paper thin walls allowed Mike’s voice through as he spoke El in the other room.
Her voice was quiet as she answered.
“Yes. Just…”
Whatever she said next was too quiet for Will to hear.
“Max was…” her strained voice faded out again, “I’m scared, Mike. I want to save them but I-.”
“What you did tonight was amazing, El. Look at me…” a beat of silence as Mike’s voice dipped in and out of Will’s hearing range, “It’s not your fault, okay? All of this… can’t control… you’re a hero.”
Hero.
The word echoed emptily in the dark spaces of Will’s mind and he took in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands choked the porcelain. He didn’t want to endure this conversation. He didn’t want to be in this gross bathroom in the middle of God-knows-where-Nevada and get up tomorrow just to fake more smiles that no one would notice. He didn’t want to buy pringles from some dingy gas station and share them with his brother in a van that smelled like weed and pretend like everything was okay.
And he really, really, did not want to be in love with his best friend.
So.
Will dried his face with a towel. He could feel the pressure mounting between his temples, the approaching dread of a panic attack or a migraine. Maybe both at this point.
Deep breaths. All he needed were deep breaths.
He swung the bathroom door open and without helping it he froze. El’s head was nestled into the crook of Mike’s shoulder, her fingers intertwined with his between them. Something was off about Mike’s expression and when he noticed Will in the doorway he seemed to go stiff. There was a strange heaviness in his eyes as he sat upright; something dark and unreadable.
“Oh, uh, hey.”
It was too much. The strange cautiousness of Mike’s tone; the way he looked at him as if he’d been caught off guard. The discomfort on his face. Will felt everything surface in his throat and he knew with sudden urgency that he needed to leave. Right now. Before everything, every angry, tragic thought, came spilling out onto the worn carpeted floor before him.
“Um,” Will’s voice choked as he took steps towards the front door, “I’m… I forgot something in the van.”
He didn’t wait for a reply as he rushed out of the room, ashamed at how hard his heart was pounding. He hurried down the steps to the parking lot not even knowing where he wanted to go. He just knew he couldn’t handle another agonizing second of whatever was going on between him and Mike, or rather, feeling the horrible absence of what wasn’t. He knew that it was suffocating him. That he needed to be alone, that he needed space or weed or something. Anything to make him stop feeling like he was imposing himself on everyone just by existing.
Anything to stop feeling like a mistake.
He fully registered that he’d made it into the back of the van only once he’d slammed the door behind him and the silence of the car enclosed him, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing. Panic ate at him from the inside, tearing viciously at the facade of calm that Will had worked so hard to keep up for the past four hours. He gripped the felt seats, desperate for anything to cling to.
Fear squeezed him like a vice as his face burned, the collar of his shirt suddenly choking him. The air seemed to be much too thin as his head spun, dizzy with swooping lightheadedness. He leaned his forehead on the headrest of the seat in front of him in resignation.
How could he have said it?
Will was breaking down and he knew it, but all he could think of was how Mike Wheeler could’ve fucking said it.
“I feel like my life started that day we found you in the woods.”
He was fathoming how it could even be true. How it was true.
A raw, haunting truth that meant what, exactly? That everything before El was just… nothing? Meaningless? All the campaigns, the sleepovers, the shared laughter muffled by pillows in the hours of the early morning, the lingering touches, the softest glances, everything, all of it, amounting to the most brutal, heartbreaking conclusion- that Mike just didn’t care.
At least not anymore.
But it was somehow worse than that. It meant-
Will saw his crying reflection in the window and felt a jolt of pure disgust creep up his spine. He looked away.
This truth hurt even more. Too much, even.
It meant that Mike had finally started living, really living, the moment Will had left him. It meant that he had done nothing but hold Mike back, never understanding that he was suffocating under the weight of Will’s love.
Uncontrollably, a sob slipped from his chest, hoarse and raw with realization.
Suddenly, the passenger seat door flung open. Will bolted straight in his seat, rushing to wipe his face, and only relaxed a little when he saw it was Jonathan. He looked like he was about to rummage for something in the glove compartment (probably something to smoke, Will concluded) but then glanced into the back of the van.
“Will?”
Will scrubbed his eyes and steadied his voice.
“Yeah?”
His brother leaned further into the car.
“Dude, what are you doing out here? How did you even get in?”
“You forgot to lock it. Again.”
“Shit. I left the keys in here.”
Jonathan was silent for a second, as if trying to decipher Will’s expression in the dark, and then shut the door. A second later he climbed into the back seat. When he saw Will’s face clearly, a brief look of surprise overcame him.
“Jesus, Will-”
Without another word, his brother coaxed him into a hug.
Will dissolved into his arms, breathing in the affection deeply, not caring, for once, that Jonathan was half stoned or about the bitter distance that had found its way between them during the past few months. His brother was there. That was enough.
Pulling away, Jonathan looked at him with a concern that tinted his shadowy eyes.
“It’s going to be okay.”
Will closed his eyes. He was just so tired.
“You already said that.”
“It’s because I mean it, Will. Look,” Jonathan paused, “I know it feels like this is the end of the world right now, but I swear to you, it’s going to change. You won’t always feel this way. Yeah, it hurts but, you know-”
“No, Jonathan, that’s-” Will strained to keep himself composed, “I’ve tried and tried to get over him. I have.”
“Hold on, I’m not telling you to-”
“But even after all this time. Even after barely talking to each other for months, I...”
Jonathan placed a hand on his back and Will had to look away from his gaze.
“I can’t.”
The words were barely more than a whisper.
“It’s just always been him. I… I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love him.”
His brother smiled at him in a sad, fond sort of way.
“I know,” Jonathan whispered, “I think I always knew.”
Again, Will felt a painful lurch of emotion in his stomach.
“It’s pathetic, Jonathan. He’s been with El for so long now and I’m still acting like some sort of clueless idiot.”
Jonathan furrowed his brow and shook his head.
“Will… buddy, you can’t do this to yourself. You can’t choose what you feel. It’s not your fault. At all. And it is not pathetic.”
“Yeah, well,” Will cast his eyes to the ground, angrily swiping at the tears streaming down his cheeks, “It feels like it is. It really does.”
“Well, it shouldn’t. And, no offense, but if anyone’s the clueless idiot it’s Mike.” Jonathan sighed and leaned back into the plush seat, “Honestly, Will. I see it, you know? The way he’s become so… self absorbed.”
Despite everything, Will still felt a spike of defensiveness overcome him.
“He’s not always like that. Mike is…” he faltered a little, “Through everything, he’s always been such a good friend to me. He was always there for me.”
“Yeah, I know, but what about now?”
Words escaped him. Finally Will looked at his brother, “I don’t know. I guess he just grew up and I didn’t. And I got left behind. ”
Jonathan shook his head, “You’re letting him off the hook and you know it. Real friends don’t ditch each other- especially not best friends.”
Will knew the truth in Jonathan’s words. It amplified the ache that was growing at his temples. He suddenly felt a burning confession rising in his throat.
“Sometimes I think…” Will started softly, shaking his head, “sometimes I think it’s because he figured it out. He pushed me away because he figured out that I…” Will couldn’t finish the sentence. Jonathan didn’t try to fill the painful silence.
“It’s just… he looks at me sometimes and,” Will took a moment to breathe, “and I feel like he must know. Like there’s no way he doesn’t see right through me. And in those moments I’m not even scared. I mean, I am, but I’m almost more… relieved because I’m so tired of holding onto this that it’s like, maybe I just need him to reject me in order to let go.” Will’s voice broke, “Maybe I just need him to hate me.”
Jonathan squeezed his shoulder, “Will-“
But Will couldn’t stop.
“But then a second later he’s back to being so oblivious. It’s like we’re not even speaking the same language. I miss him. I miss him all the time, Jonathan, even when he’s right next to me.” Will paused, whispering weakly, “I thought we’d at least always be best friends, you know? But it’s like he doesn’t…” he took in a painful, shuddering breath, “he doesn’t want me at all anymore.”
He could feel Jonathan’s eyes on him as he tried to slow his crying.
This was so dumb.
The world was ending and here Will was, crying in front of his brother over a boy.
“That’s not true,” Jonathan’s voice broke through Will’s train of thought. “That he doesn’t want you. It’s not true.”
“You don’t have to say that-”
“Will, look at me.”
Will took a deep breath. He forced himself to meet his brother’s gaze.
“I can’t explain why he’s being an asshole. I can’t. But I can tell you that I’ve known Mike almost all his life and I’ve never once doubted how much he cares about you. It’s always just been this thing with you guys.”
“Thing?” Will asked wearily.
Jonathan nodded, a vague look of amusement rising in his eyes, “I remember being so amazed at how obsessed you were with each other when you were little. It was pretty incredible, you know?”
Will shook his head and looked away. Everything hurt.
“Listen,” Jonathan continued, “I think he just… doesn’t know how to show you what’s going through his head, especially now.”
“What’s going through his head?” Will echoed with a scoff. “This isn’t some mystery, Jonathan. I mean, you heard him talking to El back there. Maybe things were different when we were younger. But we were just kids.”
Jonathan almost laughed. Will glared at him, confused.
“What?”
Jonathan shook his head and smiled sadly.
“Really? You think that was really a love confession back there?”
Will looked at him strangely.
“What else could it have been?”
“Will, he literally wouldn’t have said any of that had you not told him to!”
Will looked away in teary frustration, “Bullshit.”
“I’m serious! I mean, god, it was like listening to a repeat of what you told him earlier when you gave him your painting.”
Will rolled his eyes, his face growing slightly warm with embarrassment as he realized Jonathan had heard the entirety of that humiliating conversation.
“He just needed encouragement, Jonathan. He was scared.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Jonathan gazed at him skeptically for a moment but went silent. Then he seemed to consider something.
“But there’s… there’s a difference between being in need and being in love, you know?”
Will exhaled tiredly. He wasn't sure he wanted to be lectured on the many intricacies of romance right now.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that El and Mike need each other. They lean on each other. Of course Mike loves her. I mean, with their history, how could he not? But, I think… I don’t know. I think he might’ve told El what he thought she needed to hear tonight.”
Will let the words sink into his chest, trying not to let small tendrils of warmth slip in through the cracks. He didn’t need false hope right now. He didn’t need more delusion to keep fueling the fire that was eating away at him bit by bit.
“You know, maybe… maybe Mike ignored you for a reason these past few months,” Jonathan said pointedly, “If he was really fine with El and didn’t care that you guys barely talked, then what’s with the awkwardness?”
“I-” Will rasped in protest, stopping the naive part of him from clinging to every word.
“Why do you think he’s been such a jerk ever since he got here?”
Will shook his head vehemently, understanding what Jonathan was implying, “No, just stop. I can see what you’re doing and I’m not-” he ran a shaky hand over his face as his voice dropped to a whisper, “I won’t let you do this. It’s just making everything worse."
He suddenly felt Jonathan’s arm around his shoulders again.
“I’m sorry,” Jonathan whispered, and he really sounded like he was. “The thing is, sometimes-” he seemed hesitant to go on. “Sometimes things aren’t as simple as they seem. Don't forget that, okay?”
His brother let out a long sigh as they sat in silence. The dark expanse of the empty parking lot seemed to extend forever outside the car window.
“Whatever happens, know that I’m here, Will. Whenever you need me.”
Will didn’t answer as he sunk into his brother’s shirt.
***
Will was trying very hard to not make any noise and failing miserably as he snuck back into the motel room.
Jonathan had offered to let him sleep in his, where he was sharing with Argyle but Will had just shaken his head and given a weak smile. It’s not like he couldn’t handle being in the same room as Mike.
He decided that everything was going to be fine. Totally and completely fine.
But when he finally mustered the courage to push open the door, it wasn’t as easy to believe. Will was surprised to find the lights on, Mike sitting upright on the bed with his knees to his chest, doing nothing in particular besides fidgeting with his hands.
When he heard him come in, Mike’s gaze snapped up to meet his own. Will glanced nervously around the room. Mike looked relieved at his presence.
“Where’s El?” Will asked, noticing her absence on the couch. The thought that they were alone was suddenly terrifying.
Mike ran a hand through his hair.
“Oh, um, she left.”
“She… left?”
“Yeah,” Mike blinked hard, as if coming out of a daydream, “she um. She said she needed some time alone so…” he gestured, almost as if at a loss, towards the door to finish his sentence.
Will wondered vaguely if they had fought again. He didn’t understand why they would after everything, but Mike seemed on edge and he wasn’t about to pry.
“Oh.” Will mumbled, because what else was he supposed to say?
“Yeah.”
Will felt the slight reassurance from Jonathan’s words slowly fade away. Even though Will was heartbroken, things were okay between him and Mike before the shit had totally hit the fan.
He couldn’t understand the tension straining itself in the dank air or why every silence felt like torture. Mike had told El what he’d needed to say. Everything was fine now. Why couldn’t Will shake the feeling that it wasn’t?
“Will?” Mike’s voice was hesitant.
Will made his way towards the edge of the bed, furthest away from Mike.
“Yes?”
“Are-,” Mike paused as if to consider his words carefully, “Are you okay?” He went quiet for a moment, “You were gone for a while.”
Taking in the soft, worried lines of Mike’s pretty face, Will felt a sharp swoop of desperation that burned painfully under his skin. God, he was so tired.
“I’m fine,” he forced a smile, “I guess I got a little overwhelmed.”
Mike nodded. He looked like he was about to say something else but then stayed quiet and settled himself under the covers. There was an awkward beat of silence.
“Okay,” Mike finally said, laying down and reaching for the lamp switch, “Yeah. Cool. I’m gonna…”
The total darkness that enclosed them finished his sentence.
Will stood frozen for a moment at the prospect of sharing a bed, which he hadn’t done with Mike for a long time- at least since their last sleepover over three years ago. Then he nodded as he slipped off his shoes and climbed numbly into bed, jeans and all, not daring to remove anything else.
It was silent for a while, Will staring at the off-white popcorn ceiling, uncomfortable and stiff on his back. He tried not to think about his problems, which was kind of impossible when the biggest of them all was laying less than a foot away.
When did words become so difficult between them? Mike had always seemed to know exactly what to say to make everything feel right again. But now, almost every conversation felt forced in some strange way, like they both had so much to say that they couldn’t put it into words. Will could hear his pulse in his ears.
“Hey, Will?”
Mike’s voice was a surprise. It could’ve been ten minutes or an hour since they’d gotten in bed. Will had lost himself in the darkness.
“Hm?”
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know if you were still up.”
Mike spoke so softly, that for a moment Will swore they were having one of their late nights in his basement after a long game of D&D. Mike would always whisper his name hesitantly into the shadows, not wanting to wake Will if he was asleep. But somehow, Will was always up, ready for a hushed conversation about adventures or school or the comic they were reading together. Will was always awake for Mike. Always.
The nostalgic, warm feeling filled him so entirely that he found himself smiling a little.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
Mike laughed gently, “Yeah.”
Maybe he was remembering too.
“I just,” Mike started quietly, “I want to make sure that we’re okay.”
Will’s heart rate elevated slightly as he focused on a specific crack in the ceiling. Water damage, he guessed.
“We’re fine, Mike.”
He heard Mike shifting under the covers.
“You say that but, I don’t know. Ever since we left the pizza place you’ve been different. Lost in your head.”
Will had started getting lost in his own head way before tonight. He’d been lost for a long time now. He smirked to himself sadly.
“I think it’s just draining, you know? This whole ‘the world is ending’ situation. It keeps on happening to us.”
Mike laughed again and Will couldn’t help but feel a tiny thrill of satisfaction. He loved Mike’s laugh. Especially when he was the reason for it.
They were both quiet for a moment, indulging in a more comfortable silence than what they’d been surrounded in moments ago.
“I didn’t do anything, right?” Mike asked suddenly, “I didn’t make you feel bad about something or say something stupid?”
Will exhaled softly, “Mike.”
“I just. I wanted to make sure, you know?” Mike was rushing his words, “I feel like I’m always screwing up and ruining stuff between us and I… I don’t want that.”
Will’s heart clenched in twisted, yearning confusion at Mike’s sincerity. Between what Mike was saying now and what Will had been crying over a half hour ago, he was getting whiplash from the drastic change of tone. He was too tired for this.
“It’s fine, Mike,” he sighed, “I promise.”
He could hear Mike breathing slowly.
“Okay.”
A pause.
“Also, um. I wanted to say thanks.”
“Thanks?” Will questioned softly.
“Yeah. For helping me back there. I honestly couldn’t have done it without you.”
Will tried not to savor the words.
“He literally wouldn’t have said any of that had you not told him to!”
He tried to block Jonathan’s voice from his head. He tried. He took a deep breath.
“You don’t have to thank me. You just needed a little push, that’s all. I’m glad everything worked out. For now, at least.”
A tense beat of silence followed.
“Well, actually-” Mike cut himself off with a sharpness that startled Will.
“What?”
“I…” Mike started again softly, almost too quietly to hear, “It’s… never mind.”
The slight, lilting warmth of their conversation fizzled in an instant. Will ignored the ache blooming beneath his ribs.
“Okay,” he whispered. Will hated how much it hurt: the fact that there were certain thoughts Mike couldn’t seem to share with him now. But he knew he didn’t have the right to expect anything else. They weren't little children anymore.
Will shut his eyes, assuming the conversation had naturally dissolved, left to be forgotten about in the morning. And then Mike inhaled sharply and-
“I asked El. About the painting.”
Will’s eyes shot wide open.
“I wanted to thank her too, you know. Since you said it was mostly her idea anyway but…”
Mike trailed off for a moment. Will braced himself.
“She said you hadn’t let her see it. At all.”
Mike waited for Will to say something. Will swallowed dryly. He felt heat rushing to his face.
“And now I remember her mentioning something about a painting you were making in one of her letters and I guess,” Mike paused, “I don’t get why you weren’t honest about it.”
Will didn’t answer. Panic was flooding his veins. For a moment, an unbearable silence seemed to press between them.
“I still love it, Will,” Mike said, his voice becoming something fragile and private as it shattered the tension. “It’s perfect.”
For the first time, Will turned his head to look at Mike. He found Mike’s gaze already steady upon him and he wondered how long Mike had been looking at him. Suddenly, Will’s heart wasn’t racing out of dread. It was racing for a different reason. He became grateful for the darkness of the room, praying that it was enough to cover the color that had risen in his cheeks.
The way Mike was looking at him was so earnest and truthful, his dark eyes roaming Will’s face in search of something unnameable.
Will finally found the courage to speak.
“It- it was stupid of me to lie. I’m sorry that I did. But I thought you’d feel better about your fight with El if… if you could feel connected to her in that moment, you know?”
Mike nodded slowly, though he looked like there was something he wasn’t saying.
“Everything else I said was true,” Will hurried, “I swear. I just.” He glanced away for a moment, “This is gonna sound so stupid but, I also just really wanted you to like it.”
Will huffed a small, sad laugh, already feeling the sting of regret burning like acid at the back of his throat.
Mike went so quiet that Will thought he would never answer. A sick feeling began to settle in his stomach as he prepared for anger; for Mike to demand that they never speak again. Will felt stupid.
So stupid.
“I miss when you used to give me your sketches.” Mike whispered, out of nowhere.
Will blinked blankly at the unexpected words. “What?”
“You know I still have all of them, right?”
His entire body caught flame.
“…Really?”
Mike smiled a little nervously. “Yeah. They’re all in this folder I keep in my desk but some are still up in the basement.” He swallowed, his eyes flickering across Will’s face, “And I also put some in my room. So I can always see them.”
For some reason the last words felt like a confession. Will’s palms were sweating, the itchy comforter felt far too warm and he began to wonder what, exactly, Mike was doing.
“Mike, it’s okay if you’re mad,” he said quickly, almost suspicious of Mike’s kindness, “I lied to you. You should be angry.”
“I know.”
Will furrowed his brow. “But you’re not?”
“I can’t be,” Mike admitted delicately, eyes anxious but refusing to leave Will’s, “Not when I... wanted it to be from you.”
And suddenly it felt like they were bathed in the blue light of a silver screen, Mike’s gaze locked on Will’s face instead of the movie in front of them. Or in the emptied living room of the Byers house, where it seemed to take every last drop of effort for Mike to tear his eyes away from Will’s as they’d faced each other. It felt like hundreds of unspoken moments that they would never talk about: moments where lines became too blurry, hands too close, words too gentle. Confusing moments that certainly only meant something in Will’s mind and nothing at all to Mike.
Will tried not to show the bewilderment on his face. He didn’t know how to answer.
“Getting something from you is always different,” Mike explained. “Special.”
Special.
There was something about the energy in the air that gave Will a strange sense of confidence. Foolishly, he grabbed hold of it.
“So… where’s the painting going, then?” he asked gently with a tentative smile, “That is, if we ever manage to get home alive.”
Mike grinned, “That one’s definitely going to be framed, front and center above my desk.”
Will was melting.
“Yeah?”
Mike nodded, his dimples showing.
“I mean, no other place would be right. It’s,” Mike’s expression turned into something inexplicably solemn, “It’s definitely my favorite now.”
Will could only stare at Mike as the words circulated his brain, imprinting themselves for good on every empty space. He let out a breath, unable to think about their proximity. It felt like leaning in to touch fire.
Urgently, Will realized that he needed to loosen the tension; give Mike an out.
“I can’t believe you kept those old drawings.” he said reminiscently, “I’m pretty sure they all suck.”
“Excuse me?” Mike laughed, “Are you insulting my taste in art?”
“Uh, yeah? It’s clearly super questionable.”
Mike rolled his eyes, still smiling. “Come on, Will. They’re so good.”
Will raised a doubtful eyebrow, “If that’s your standard, then I guess you won’t survive flipping through my latest sketchbook.”
Genuine excitement rose on Mike’s face, “You have to show me.”
Will couldn’t help the way his chest swelled. He grinned, “I will.”
“Can I keep the ones you don’t want?”
“Mike-”
“Just, please? Promise me you will?” Mike looked at him very seriously and Will knew he was massively screwed. Honestly, he was barely able to breathe with the heat he felt crawling up his neck. How could he say no?
He huffed a smile, “Fine. I think I can do that.”
“Okay,” Mike said through a grin, “Deal.”
Will felt like he was twelve years old again, finding his way back to something warm and safe and good. There was something sacred about the rare privacy enveloping them. It reminded him of the past, when they were alone: when Mike’s usual veil of defensiveness would lift and give way to a gentleness he reserved only for Will.
“Thank you. For talking to me. I-” Mike held his stare, “It’s nice.”
The carefulness of his tone broke Will’s heart a little.
“It is,” Will whispered, “I’ve missed it.”
I’ve missed you, he wanted to say.
“Yeah. Me too.”
The silence between them said more than it should’ve.
“’Night, Will,” Mike said, seeming to notice this.
Will tried to soak it all in; the sight of Mike’s pale skin, the way his eyes shone in the dark. He didn’t want the words between them to stop. He didn’t want morning to come.
But it would.
“Goodnight, Mike.”
And that was that.
Will pretended he couldn’t feel Mike’s eyes watching him as he fell asleep.