Chapter Text
Living at the Wheeler’s house, indefinitely, was not something Will thought would ever happen. It’s been months since everything went to hell, and Will and Jonathon have been forced to stay with the them, due to the lack of anywhere else to go. Will is so grateful for their hospitality (mainly Mrs Wheeler, Mr Wheeler doesn’t seem to want them -him- there at all) but it’s been a lot. Having so many people in one space can become quite claustrophobic, and some days it’s just unbearable. He thought that he would be able to adjust, which he sort of has, but he still feels like he’s living in a dream, in this weird in-between period between life and the end of the world. The eye of the storm almost.
Him and Jonathon are ‘sharing the basement’ to sleep in, but every night without fail, Jonathon waltzes up to Nancy’s room and doesn’t come back. It’s gotten to a point that he doesn’t keep any of his sleep stuff down there anymore, just leaves it in her room. Which is fine, and Will is trying so hard to be happy for his brother, he really is, but a mixture of loneliness and jealousy of their relationship eats at him. He mainly ignores it, as it’s ridiculous and sad, because they’re a couple, they’re in love. He’s happy for them. But lying awake at night, alone, he secretly resents it. Because deep down, in that selfish part of his mind, he craves what they have. Wishes that it could be him. Him and a certain other person. The person only a few rooms away.
Will startles awake to the sound of people in the kitchen, talking and preparing breakfast. He groans and checks the time. 6:30 in the morning. Damn, he really misses the days of sleeping in, the quiet of an almost empty house. He stumbles out of bed, and realises that he’s covered in sweat, and his voice is hoarse. Another nightmare. He prays that he didn’t make a sound, and that if he did, nobody heard him. He can’t handle the fussing and the concerned looks anymore. He can’t. When he was younger, after being – taken- he’d have the most intense nightmares. The cold would seep into his bones, and it was almost as if he was there again, experiencing it all just like he did before. And he would scream until he couldn’t hear his voice anymore, begging it to stop, to wake up, to escape. His mom would rush in, tired and looking so helpless, and would hold him, trying to make it all go away. He hated it, hated how he couldn’t just forget it all, be normal again. After a while, they died down a bit, and he was finally able to sleep again. Most of the time.
He washes up and throws a sweater on, because although he was sweating, it’s the middle of winter and annoyingly cold. Which shouldn’t be an issue at all for any normal person, but for him, well, it’s too much of one. The cold just, well, reminds him of everything, of –
Will makes his way to the kitchen, where the smell of waffles and bacon wafts through the air. His stomach rumbles, and I guess this is one of the main perks of living here. The food never disappoints. Mrs Wheeler looks up and smiles at him, pointing to the feast at the table.
‘Help yourself’ she says, and continues with what she was doing. Will fills a plate before heading to the table, and starts to eat, his mind wandering. Then, he hears those familiar, loud footsteps coming down the stairs. He turns his head without thinking, and there Mike stands in the doorway, holding his classic bowl of cereal, his hair messy and his face still showing signs of sleep. Will stares at him, unable to look away, his heart beating just a little too fast. Mike sees him and smiles slightly, and his breath catches. He pulls out the chair next to Will and sits down, staring at his bowl, as if he’s still trying to come to. He looks over at Will.
‘Hey’ he whispers, and Will struggles to answer.
‘Hey’ he whispers back, feeling the weight of Mike’s gaze on him. He turns back to his breakfast, flustered, wishing that he didn’t feel so pathetic around him. Ever since they arrived back from California, it’s been fine, nice, but there’s been this slight tension in the air. They haven’t really had a proper conversation since the road trip, and there’s still so much left unsaid. They’ve lost the ability to be around each other for too long, without falling into this strange silence. And it’s not like they aren’t friends, but they don’t really spend time one on one anymore, only really in a group. It sucks, but he can’t think of anything worse than trying to talk about everything, because he knows that conversation will not go well, at all. So as sad as it leaves him, the two of them are left like this. He misses him though. Like, really misses him.
Mrs Wheeler brings over some juice for the boys, and her and Mike start to talk. Will tries to focus on the conversation instead of the way that the boy next to him is making his head spin.
‘You boys are having a movie night tonight, right?’ she asks them both, and Will can only nod as Mike replies with what he thinks is a yeah, though can’t quite tell as his mouth is full. ‘I’ll make sure to get some snacks for the four of you then, as I’m heading to the grocery store anyway.’
Will thanks her, which earns an approving smile. He likes the fact that she doesn’t hate Will, and seems to have always had a soft spot for him. A stark contrast from Mr Wheeler however. Every time they’re in the same room, he can feel his judgemental gaze, almost as if he can read the thoughts in his head, can tell that he isn’t normal. A mistake. It’s stupid, because how could he know, there’s no way he knows, yet it seems as if he does. He always has a sense of panic around him due to this, nauseous from the thought of him seeing his true self. So thankfully, he seems to still be asleep upstairs, which means that Will can exist without feeling so panicked. Well, except for the fact that he can barely breathe due to Mike and their close proximity.
Mrs Wheeler heads out soon after, so the conversation stops, and as they finish eating, Nancy and Jonathon make their way down the stairs, smiling up at each other. His stomach twists slightly, and his face falls. Mike notices this and raises an eyebrow at him, which earns an embarrassed shrug from Will. How could he explain how stupid this is, this jealousy, especially to the boy the jealousy stems from. This reminds him of El and Mike, and he feels his stomach twist even more. His sister, one of his favourite most deserving people in the world, and Mike. His Mike. Both of them, together, a couple, in love. Suddenly, the room starts to feel closed off, and his head spins even more. He needs to get outside, get some fresh air, breathe normally. Maybe he’ll go for a ride, visit El, before seeing Lucas and Dustin tonight. As much as he loves them, it does still feel like he’s out of place, like there’s the slightest disconnect since coming back from California. Which is dumb, but it’s mainly just the way Mike acts with them. Happy, normal, carefree. He misses that, the normalcy of their friendships, the way that they all seem as comfortable together as they always were. Yet he can’t spend more than a minute with Mike before he feels his mind shut down from it. He hates this. He hates that he can’t just be completely at ease with them all, with Mike, can’t just be friends like they used to be.
He gets up far too quickly, putting his plate away in the already full sink. He goes to grab his coat from the basement, and his heart stops when he bumps into Mike.
‘Hey’ he says, for the second time today, and Will once again replies with ‘hey’. An awkward silence settles over them, as Will tries to find words, any words.
‘What you doing?’ Mike asks, breaking the silence.
He racks his mind for what he was about to do. His brain seems to empty when he’s near him.
‘Um, I was, I was just getting my coat. You know, to go visit Mom and El.’ He rambles, and before he has the time to think, he splutters ‘Do you want to come? I mean, you don’t have to, but you might want to see El you know, and um yeah.’
He can feel himself go red, and Mike has this lost expression on his face. He’s unsure as to why, it’s a simple, admittedly weirdly said, question really.
‘I- um- I don’t think I will, but I’ll see you when you get back, yeah?’ he replies, with a strained smile, as he makes his way up to his room. Will stands there, frozen, and a little confused. Why doesn’t he want to see El? Is something wrong? Are they fighting? The selfish part of him wants the answer to be a yes, but the better part of him makes a mental note to check in on him later. He wants to be a good friend, and even though it makes him feel nauseous when Mike talks about El, he’d do anything for him.
Gaining his composure, he gets his coat, and heads out.
The bike ride to Hopper’s cabin is nice, the fresh air against his face, the wind in his hair. He loves the freedom of this, seeing as there’s not much more freedom left that they have. With Hawkins being in a lockdown of sorts, everyone’s been stuck, as if frozen in time. The cracks have been roughly filled, and the ‘earthquake’ as they’re calling it, has definitely left a big, ugly mark on the town. And the military is a frustrating addition, meaning everyone is even more on edge. It’s been hard, but California was somehow worse. After years of living in a town with the same people, with his friends, being in a new, strange place was disorientating. The town just sat in this constant awkward silence, the emptiness seeping through the identical houses and ridiculously hot weather. That year had been the loneliest he's ever felt, and without El, he honestly wouldn't have survived. It had been nice, being in a new place, no longer the zombie boy, but nothing could replace the people that he'd left behind in Hawkins. He's pulled out of his thoughts as he reaches Hopper's cabin. He rests his bike against a nearby tree before heading towards the building, which is very much empty, and spots a note by the door.
[out training, will beat my time! - El]
He smiles at the note and the very messy handwriting of his sister. Her writing’s gotten better, but she can’t quite get the hang of holding a pen yet. The thought is a little sad, but the fact that she’s finally getting the chance to learn does give him some hope. He wants the best life for her, as she's been through so much, and deserves a normal, maybe even mundane future. If it ever could be, seeing that normal isn’t really everyone’s style. He makes his way over to the junkyard, and spots El throwing herself around, jumping over cars, using her powers in insane ways. She’s so focused and looks so, strong? When did his sister become so amazing? He stands there watching, a little in awe of what she’s accomplishing. He waits until she finishes the course to shout her name, and as soon as she sees him, she bolts over to hug him. He looks up and Hopper waves from afar, before looking down at a stopwatch, checking El’s time and progress, this odd look on his face. A mixture of pride but also maybe some concern? Will looks back at El, and she grabs him by the arm as they walk to the cabin.
‘I’m still high on my time, but I’m so much better already! I will go to the upside down soon, I know it.’ She says it with this honest confidence, her signature determined look on her face. Will nods, knowing that it’s the truth – she can do anything. He turns his head and notes Hopper following them, hanging a bit behind, which isn’t unusual for him. He could just be giving them space, letting them talk, but Will wonders if he does this so that he can be alert. To spot any potential danger, anyone here to find them. He’s always worrying for El’s safety, and he can tell that she hates that, hates that he’s always protecting her. He relates to this all too much.
They all settle into the cabin, sitting in the living room, talking and laughing about who knows what. El is leaning against him, a lack of care for personal space, and he leans into her, letting her presence warm him up from the inside out. The sound of a key turning catches his attention, so he turns his head, watching the frame of the rickety door swing open. The sight of his mother, seeming completely worn out, is a welcoming one, and he's glad she's here. She steps inside and shuts the door behind her, turning to the three of them sitting in the living area. She smiles a real smile seeing them all together, and kisses Hopper, before running over to hug Will. She holds him ever slightly too tight – a habit she gained years ago – before letting him go. She places a kiss on El's head, and she smiles up at Joyce, their relationship now somewhat close to one of a mother and daughter. Will loves it, loves that his family feels like a, real, family.
His mom sits down next to Hopper, who whispers something in her ear, which results in a playful slap and slight blush from her. She sighs softly and rests her head on his shoulder, before easily joining the conversation. They talk about simple things, work, school, training and of course the upside down. It’s been hard trying to keep a low profile, to remain and live there life as normal as they can possibly live it, especially with Hopper and El being forced into hiding. Right now, he and the rest of them seem to be feeling a bit useless, stuck. But it’s a blessing, because despite it all, they can keep moving, keep living their lives, as they’re all still here. He needs to keep focusing on the positives of it all.
Laughter pulls him out of his thoughts and back into the room. The closeness of them all leaves a warm feeling in his heart, and he feels himself breathe freely for the first time in a while. He misses this, misses his family being with him all the time. He hardly sees anyone apart from Jonathon these days, and it’s nice to spend time with the others too. The love they all have for each other fills the room, the conversations easy and light, and he settles into it. The regularness of it all is like a warm blanket, a hot chocolate on a cold day.
After a while, the conversation fizzes away, so Hopper turns on the TV, playing a random channel that Will doesn't really care for. Hopper wraps his arms around Joyce, and she settles into his embrace, content, and starts to rest her eyes. Picking up on this, El and him head into her room, not wanting to intrude on the two adults, as well as them not really wanting to watch what's playing on the TV. El closes the door softly, jumping onto her unmade bed. Will follows suit, sitting cross legged next to her, fussing with the pillows a little too much. He's surrounded by random splashes of colour scattered around the room, in the form of mismatched pillows and blankets, crooked posters on the walls, as well as random trinkets on every surface. Although El doesn't have that many possessions, her room still reflects her, her personality shining through each little addition in this space.
Just as he finally starts to relax, he's reminded of his interaction with Mike from earlier, and his mouth starts moving before his mind does.
‘Hey El, can I ask you something?’ He's a little hesitant to ask about this, but he's too curious not to.
‘Sure, what’s up?’ she asks, focused on him completely, with that soft look on her face. He braces himself and starts to speak a bit too fast.
‘Are you and Mike like, ok? It’s just because he didn’t want to come with me today, and he hasn’t seen you in a while, and I was well, um, just wondering.’ He hears how he sounds, and inwardly cringes. The fact that he’s asking her, and not his supposed best friend, makes him feel pathetic. El holds his hand, softly stroking his palm.
‘Has he not spoken to you?’ she asks, and Will feels himself heat up from embarrassment.
‘Well um, not really, but it’s not like we don’t talk, it’s just…’ he stops himself there, unable to form the words he wants to say. What was there to say? Oh, his best friend and him can’t keep up a conversation like they used to anymore, and the air feels so heavy with tension it makes him feel sick? Or the fact that he’s hopelessly in love with him?
El studies him, and sighs softly.
‘You two must talk, but everything is fine, I promise. Me and Mike, we just don’t really need each other that much now, with everything going on.’
Will is slightly confused by this, and he’s riddled with questions. What does she mean by them not needing each other that much? Are they fighting, taking a break, not as close or…
He doesn’t entertain the idea of them breaking up, as he feels so guilty for feeling hopeful about it. He shouldn’t be happy at the thought of his sister going through heartbreak, or Mike either. He would hate for them to be unhappy, more than anything. They’re so important to him, more than they’ll ever know. And besides, it’s so unlikely that they would break up. They’ve been together for so long, gone through so much, and their love for each other is painfully obvious. He sighs slightly, looking down at his lap.
‘Will?’ He looks up to see a sad, almost knowing look on her face.
‘Yeah?’ he says, a little too quiet.
‘You know that I love you, always?’ she asks, and Will feels a lump form in his throat.
‘I want you to be happy, and I hope you choose to be happy. You deserve so much Will, you’re amazing, kind, the best brother I could want.’
He feels tears in his eyes, and El pulls him in for a hug. Her hugs are warm and soft, filled with so much love he feels that he might choke from it. He didn’t realise how much he needed this closeness until he feels himself sink into her embrace. After a while he pulls away awkwardly, but El doesn’t seem to care. She redirects the conversation onto her training as he sits with his thoughts, continuing without expecting him to speak as well, as if knowing that he doesn’t want to keep talking. Not in a judgemental way, but a knowing one. It’s nice, there being no expectations with her.
After some time, Will heads out, after another too tight hug from his mom and a small wave from El. He feels ruined and whole all at once, as if a piece of his mask has fallen out of place. The conversation with El felt intentional and hit way too close to home. It was almost as if she was allowing something, letting him know it was all ok. But what exactly? It couldn’t be that, no it couldn’t. El doesn’t know about how he feels, I mean, he’d tried so hard to hide it. But what if, he hadn’t?
The bike ride home feels longer than before, and he notices how grey the sky is, the slight static of the air. He brushes it off and eventually pulls up into the Wheeler’s drive, and sees two bikes causally dropped out front. He shakes his head at Lucas and Dustin’s carelessness as he puts his bike under a cover, and rushes inside. He makes his way down into the basement, immediately met by loud voices in a heated debate.
‘Um, episode 3 is clearly the best film, I don’t understand how you don’t see that?’
‘No, episode 3 is so overrated, 4 was a million times better!’
‘But episode 1 is like the OG, you can’t beat it!’ Mike’s voice rings the loudest of the 3, and Will can tell that he is passionate about this argument. He chuckles to himself and heads down the stairs, which is instantly met with shouting.
‘Finally man, took you long enough!’ shouts Lucas, with a disapproving look.
‘Too busy to hang out with us I see?’ questions Dustin, which startles a small laugh from Will.
Mike smiles at him, with a dramatic ‘Finally, you’re here!’ Will smiles back at his enthusiasm, and hates that he’s wondering if it’s genuine, or if he’s just saying this because of the others.
‘Tell them Will, episode 1 is clearly the best!’ The 3 of them stare at him, waiting for his answer, and he debates siding with Mike, but can’t help the temptation to rile him up.
‘No way, episode 3 is the best stars wars film, clearly.’
Dustin laughs and claps him on the back, startling him, and Mike looks mock offended.
‘I see how it is then’ he sighs dramatically, flopping onto the sofa, his long legs draping over the edge. Will stares just a little to long before walking over to sit next to him, keeping a slight distance. He joins in the conversation, and notices that his pullout bed has been cleared up, definitely by Mrs Wheeler,all his stuff now in the corner. Somehow, the basement feels fuller, even with it cleared up, just because of the people in it. It’s too big, lonely otherwise.
The 4 of them argue some more, before eventually putting on a movie. Not any of the Stars Wars, as it would just cause a bigger argument. It’s some sci-fi movie that he’s never heard of, and he finds himself not paying attention to it. He’s all to aware of the fact that he’s sat next to Mike on the sofa, and has to consciously keep himself from accidentally brushing a leg or arm against him, for fear of burning himself alive. Despite them all being together, he still feels as pathetic as before, still unable to forget these feelings. As the movie continues and seems to get more violent, he sighs, and starts to daydream. It’s not that he hates these kinds of movies, and he’d much rather be here with them watching this, then alone watching what he wants to watch. Even if they aren’t really as fun to watch compared to others, he just loves spending time with everyone.
His conversation with El plays back in his head, and he turns to look at Mike. He’s focused on the film, and at first glance he seems fine, but Will notices that his under-eyes are slightly too dark, his expression slightly off. He looks like he hasn’t slept in ages, almost as if he’s carrying something – a secret, a burden. Maybe not, but after so many years of friendship, he can tell when something’s up. He’s desperate to reach over and just ask him what’s going on, but he refrains. He’s probably fine, and even if he isn’t, they aren’t as close anymore, so he wouldn’t want to talk to him about whatever’s bothering him. The thought is like a knife in his heart, as there was a time that Mike would constantly vent to him, about school, his family, his writing, anything really. Any thought that went through his head, even if it was the most random, useless thing, he would still instantly tell Will. Now, it’s almost the complete opposite -he’s always closed off, quieter. He wonders what changed, what really stopped the ease of their friendship.
He knows that he’s been staring too long, and Mike turns to look at him. Their eyes meet, and he can feel his heart beat speed up slightly, his body tensing. He quickly turns back to the screen, embarrassed, and can feel Mike’s eyes still on him. He doesn’t dare look, too embarrassed and far too ashamed to admit he’d been staring. So, he tries to focus, to forget those soft brown eyes that stared into his, the way he could feel himself melt into them. Gosh, what is wrong with him? Out of the corner of his gaze, he sees Mike turn back to the screen, and he lets out a small sigh of relief.
He doesn’t realise that he’d been drifting off until he hears all 3 boys shout in frustration, and he startles awake. After having an embarassingly long panic over Mike looking at him, he'd tried to focus on the screen, but there was nothing that interesting happening, and soon well... He hadn't been asleep that long, but long enough to be completely confused. The movie seems to be finishing with some random, dramatic ending that makes zero sense, but they all seem annoyed by it.
‘Why did it have to end like that?!’ Lucas shouts, his head in his hands. ‘It was going so well, and then he DIES??’
Mike and Dustin shout in agreement, and Will copies them, embarrassed that he wasn’t paying attention. They talk through the plot some more, and he tries to look like he agrees with what they’re saying, nodding and making the right noises. Although he wasn't the biggest fan of the movie, and admittedly did fall asleep, he's still glad that they're doing this. He smiles fondly at his friends, at how easy spending time with them is, even after all the time they'd spent apart, and the gaps that are still wedged between them. Even though he still feels out of place, disconnected, he’s starting to remember how they were, and they all have sort of fallen back into the rhythm of the old them. Before, well, everything.
Out of nowhere, a loud crash of thunder echoes through the room. They all jump, and the conversation stops, replaced by startled expressions and a nervous giggle from one of them. Dustin's eyes fly open in panic, and he runs a hand through his hair in annoyance.
‘Shit, I didn’t realise there would be a storm tonight! Shit, shit, shit!’ Dustin’s frustration is mirrored by Lucas’ groans.
‘Damn it, we have to cycle as well!’
This revelation seems to spur the two of them into moving, and they run around like madmen, collecting their stuff and knocking into each other more than once. They all say a rushed goodbye, before the two of them run out the basement, bickering like kids again. There’s no use following, they’ll be long gone now, so Will decides to stay put. Mike seems to have the same idea, because he doesn't move, lying further back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
Will is far too aware of the fact that he’s still here with him, and that it's now just the two of them, so he starts to busy himself by cleaning up the mess of food and blankets, attempting to get his bed ready. He hears Mike cough, clearing his throat, and Will holds the sheet in his hand, fiddling awkwardly with it.
‘Hey Will?’ Mike says, in that stupid soft voice that makes him feel like a giant puddle.
‘Yeah?’ he replies, not turning to face him, despite every nerve in his body telling him too.
‘I um, I—' Mike's sentence gets cut short by another loud crash of thunder, followed by the lights completely switching off. Will freezes, the sudden darkness sounding a warning siren in his mind. His breathing start to quicken, his palms all sweaty.
‘Shit!’ Mike shouts, trying to move around in the darkness. ‘Will, are you ok?’
Will tries to reply, but he can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe.
‘Will! Will, answer, please!’ The please throws him off guard, and by how desperate and scared Mike sounds.
He makes this small tortured sound, which he assumes Mike hears, as soon he's attempting to make his way through the now pitch-black room. After a lot of clambering, and muffled cursing, he finally reaches Will, anchoring himself in front of him, grabbing his shoulders.
‘Will, what’s wrong?’ his voice is soft but terrified, and despite the sudden panic he feels, Will can’t help but love the fact that he cares, that he’s worried about him.
‘It's-I-I’m fine Mike’ he stutters, his words tumbling one over the other. ‘It’s just, the dark is-the dark just reminds me of- and…’
He starts to hyperventilate, and closes his eyes in a feeble attempt to calm himself down. He hates this, how this does this to him, how such stupid things make him feel so trapped, so small. As if, he’s there again, back in the upside down, can feel the cold, the-
Mike pulls him close, somehow instantly understanding what he needs. His warmth is comforting, the smell of his shampoo sweet and fresh, and his breathing starts to slow.
‘It’s ok Will, it’s gonna be ok.'
'Y-Yeah, I know.'
Let's just um, let’s go upstairs yeah?’
He nods into Mike’s shirt, but neither of them dares to let go just yet. This reminds him of the how they used to be, back when they were only kids. How any time Will was scared, Mike would always know how to help him, how to make the fear go away, by just being him. By distracting him, telling a story, or just by sitting with him, sitting with the fear. He’s always had that effect on him, comforting and warm, his protectiveness noticeable and all too welcome. He loved that Mike was there to help him fight his battles, to scare away anything that scared him,like a knight in shining armour. He didn’t realise that he was still like that, even after all this time. One moment, and suddenly all the barricades of time fall, replaced by Mike holding him.
He takes a second before letting go of Mike, afraid that if he doesn’t do it now, he never would. He’d live in his embrace if he that was an option. Mike keeps an arm near him, not quite holding him, but close enough so he knows that he's there. They attempt to make their way up the stairs, the darkness leading to a lot of bumping into furniture, with groans from him, and more cursing from Mike. At some point, Will all but crashes into Mike, grabbing onto his shirt to steady himself, and he pulls back so fast that he nearly falls backwards. He apologises under his breath, and he's pretty sure Mike nods, though he can't see anything. And stupidly, he blushes, thrown off guard by the whole ordeal. What is wrong with me?
By some miracle they manage to make it to the kitchen, where they join the rest of the frustrated family, all talking over each other.
‘What the hell happened?’
‘It was the storm; I think lightning struck a power station—’
‘Well, will the power come back on? Can we turn it back on?’
‘I don’t know, do I? I don’t always have the answers you know?!’
‘Well I’m so sorry for asking a question!’
As they all argue, he starts to get that panicked feeling again, his hands shaking, but it’s countered by a hand on his arm, to steady him. He knows who it is instantly, and suddenly, he can’t move an inch.
‘Mom, what’s going on?’ a small voice asks, and he recognises it to be Holly’s. His heart breaks a little, as he’s grown fond of her, and hates that she’s scared. But he hates that he’s scared even more, due to the fact that he is no longer close to being a child. She has an excuse, so what’s his? That he’s still traumatised from everything, and can’t be normal in these kinds of situations anymore? Once again, he hates how pathetic he feels.
The sound of a match lighting catches his attention, and he sees the flame of a lone candle being lit.
‘I found the candles in the garage.’ Nancy’s voice silences the room, everyone turning their attention to her. ‘So instead of hearing you all whine some more, can we just take some of these to our rooms and get ready for bed? It’s late and a black out won’t kill us you know.’ It’s true, it really wouldn’t. They've all dealt with far worse.
With some muttering and annoyed looks, everyone gets up to take some candles and matches, thanking Nancy as she passes them to people. Slowly everyone starts to separate back to their designated rooms, too tired to argue anymore. Will lights a pale yellow candle, and watches as Mike holds one in front of him, his face illuminated by the flickering flame. He stares at Will in concern, and before he dies from embarrassment, he heads back to the basement, candle clutched in his hand. Despite there now being some light, it’s nowhere near enough, and the basement feels far to eery. Like the shadows are hiding secrets from him, whispering every horror he's experienced back at him. He hasn’t slept down here without the lights on before, and as he sits on the pullout bed, being alone suddenly feels so much worse. He wishes that he wasn’t completely separated from the rest of the house down here, wishes he was nearer to everyone else, anyone else. There’s always - nope. He will not knock on that door because he’s afraid of the dark – he’d rather die. He hears footsteps above the stairs, and recognises the all-familiar voice of his brother echo through the room.
‘Will?’ he whispers, his eyes falling on his brother. ‘You ok?’
The truth is, no, not at all, but he’d rather be stabbed in the dark than admit that he’s scared. Especially to his brother.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Why are you here?’ he tries to keep his voice calm, refusing to sound off. Jonathon doesn’t seem to buy it though.
‘Well, I thought that you might be scared, and maybe would need me here tonight?’ Great, he feels sorry for him. He can feel himself go red from embarrassment, and wants to sink into the mattress then and there.
‘Nope, It’s fine Jonathon. I’m tired, and it’s just a blackout. Go to Nancy, I promise it’s all good.’
Jonathon stares at him, clearly still worried, but doesn’t push it any further. He stands there as if waiting for Will to change his mind, which he doesn’t, and sighs as he closes the door. Will hears his footsteps fade, and is glad, until his fear creeps back up behind him, in a taunting dance. He tries to ignore it, to distract himself, but it’s pretty much impossible.
He groans at the sound of footsteps, again, and holds his head in his hands, not wanting to look at the person opening the door.
‘Jonathon, I said I was fine, you don’t have to treat me like a child you know!’ He stops himself as he lifts his head up, and sees that the person at the door is in fact not Jonathon, but a certain Mike Wheeler.
‘Um, hey.’ Mike sounds embarassed, and Will once again wants to sink into the mattress. Hell, he wants to sink into the void.
‘Hey’ he replies, watching Mike hesitantly head down the stairs, standing in front of the bed, his candle light flickering between them. The silence is heavy, and Will waits for him to speak first.
‘I, well I know that, um’ he stutters, ‘I saw how you were earlier and I guess I just didn’t want to leave you alone.’ he confesses, and Will internally groans. He hates how hopeless he feels, how sad this whole situation makes him look.
‘You feel bad for me?’
‘No, no of course not’ He saysthis a little too loud to be convincing, his voice raised slightly higher. ‘I just know that you were feeling rough and I just, well, I just want to be here for you that’s all.’
Will sighs and stands up, facing him.
‘It’s ok Mike, honestly. I’ll be ok, it’s just the dark. Go to your room, I bet you’re tired.’ A part of him wants to beg him to stay, but he knows how ridiculous that is.
‘Not really, the blackout’s kind of creepy, especially with the storm happening too, and well, I don’t think I can sleep. And I guess I just didn’t want to be alone in my room lying awake, so I wanted to come see you. But if you don’t want me here that’s cool, I totally get it, and you know what I’m just gonna go.’ He makes his way to the stairs, but before he gets too far Will grabs his wrist. Mike stares down at his hand, a strange look crossing over him, but he doesn’t pull away.
‘No, um, please stay. I guess- I feel the same.’ The light from Mike’s candle paints shadows over his face, his face this canvas of light and shadow, and Will might be going crazy, but he swears he sees him blush. He’s going crazy. He’s suddenly conscious of the fact that he’s still holding Mike, and he lets go quickly.
‘Cool, cool. Yeah, we can like stay up together then!’ The enthusiasm in Mike’s voice is adorable, and Will can’t help the smile on his face.
‘Yeah, like we used too when we were kids.’ Will adds, and they both smile at this, the room somehow lighting up because of it.
‘Wait, I have an idea, give me a sec!’
Mike rushes up the stairs, and Will stares after him, a little in shock. What the hell is happening? Are they about to hang out, like properly, for the first time in forever? After what seems like a minute or so, Mike stomps back down the stairs, his arms filled to the brim with comics, games and another blanket.
‘I bring… the entertainment!’ Mike does a mock bow as he drops the stuff onto the bed, and Will laughs unexpectedly. Mike’s smile seems to grow wider at this, and he sits down, laying it all out in front of him. Will follows suit, sitting cross legged across from him.
‘Games, comics, conversation. Everything we’re gonna need for an eventful night.’ A night? Is he staying here? Mike waves his hands dramatically, earning another laugh from Will. He can’t quite believe it. Are they seriously about to spend the night together after everything? He’s been waiting for them to have a moment like this for so long, and hope fills his heart. He picks up a comic, studying it.
‘Haven’t you already read this one?’ he asks jokingly, and Mike nods vigorously.
‘Of course, but you haven’t, and that just won’t do now, will it?’ He opens it to the first page, and positions himself onto his stomach to read it. Will stares at him, unsure of what to do. Mike notices this, impatiently patting the part of the bed next to him.
‘What are you waiting for, we need to read it together!’ Still unsure, Will moves to lie next to him, mirroring his position, and is taken aback by how close they are. Their arms are pressed together, the casual touch unfamilar and electrifying. The candles flicker next to them as they start to read, and soon they find a rhythm, the sounds of turning pages and some [wait, I’m not done yet]’s filling the room. The plot of this is a million times better than the movie from earlier, and Will actually becomes invested. He's much more of a superhero fan then a sci-fi one, at least that specific sci-fi movie, it seems. As they're reading, the easiness of this hits Will like a truck, and he can’t help the happiness that fizzes through him. This, this is what he’s missed, what he’s been hoping to have again. Just them doing something simple, as simple as reading a comic, but doing it together. It’s quiet and calm, exactly what he needs.
All too soon, they finish the comic, and Will groans in frustration.
‘The ending was terrible!’ he complains, and Mike shakes his head in a disapproving manor.
‘The ending was needed to make it make sense! If it—' He starts to ramble on about the importance of the cliffhanger to the story, and Will turns to face him, listening intently. He loves when he does this, speaks passionately about something, his full attention on what he’s explaining. It’s one of his favourite things, listening to him tell a story. He waves his arms around as he describes the story, a little dorky and annoyingly adorable. Mike notices Will staring, and he starts to stutter, before he eventually stops speaking.
‘Sorry, I’m going on and on about this aren’t I?’ he laughs at himself, clearly embarrassed.
‘No, no you’re not! I love when you’re focused on something, or telling a story. It’s cool seeing how you light up when you’re passionate about something.’ There it is again, that look Mike gives him, and Will swears he can see him blush again. Probably just from embarrassment, but he adores the fact that he’s blushing at him, the awkwardness settling on his features. It’s cute. No, what, he can’t be thinking that right now. Or at all.
Mike coughs to break the moment and declares that he needs to get the next comic, running back upstairs. He seems to be taking a while, so to distract his treacherous mind, Will pulls out his sketchpad and a stray pencil on the floor. He focuses on the candle and starts to draw an outline, before trying to get the shadows it casts just right, the wax to have a certain shine. He gets so drawn into it that he doesn’t notice Mike coming back into the basement, watching him.
‘You’re amazing you know’ His voice breaks Will's trance, pride shining through it, and he startles as he looks up at Mike. He flushes and hides a stupid smile.
‘It’s nothing really, just another drawing.’
‘It’s not nothing, don’t say that! The fact that you can draw at all is so cool to me.’ He goes even redder, and tries to redirect the conversation.
‘If you tried, I bet you could draw too you know.’
‘As if!’ Mike laughs at the thought, and Will shakes his head affectionately.
‘No, I’m serious! Try it, I promise it’s harder in your mind then it actually is.’
Mike stares at him, conflicted, but seems to give in, the next comic now forgotten.
‘What would I even draw?’ Will looks around, unsure. Most of the room is pretty dark, the candles not providing enough light to focus on anything.
‘Anything really. Well, as long as you can see it.’ He laughs at his obvious statement, but Mike starts to think, unaware of what he said. He lights up at a sudden idea, this silly look crossing his face.
‘I can see you, so why don’t I draw you?’ He laughs, and without thinking Will answers with a-
‘Go ahead.’ As soon as he says it, regret itches at his skin, and he tries to take it back. ‘I mean, not really, it’ll probably be weird and—'
Mike silences his ramble by pulling Will’s arm, positioning him in front of him. And when Mike starts to study his face, to draw him, Will knows he's done for. Mike stares for far too long, or maybe it just feels that way, and Will's heart is pounding, his mind going all dizzy and sweet. He can’t move under Mike's gaze, can’t form a single normal thought, any thought. All he can do is attempt to stay dead still, and try to keep his breathing steady.
After what feels like eternity, Mike looks down at the sketchpad and starts to draw. Will notes his focused expression, and watches his unsteady pencil strokes, his hand shaking slightly as he moves it. He’s nervous. It’s just a drawing though, there’s not really any pressure. Mike keeps looking up at him, to study his lips, his nose, his eyes, and breathing feels like an impossible task. Everything is an impossible task. He pulls this annoyed face, his eyebrows creasing as he presses the lead down harder, and Will wants nothing more than to lean in closer, to smooth the crease with his fingers, and then-
Finally, Mike stops the pencil and stares at the drawing. He laughs softly, and sighs dramatically.
‘Well, it’s, it’s something I suppose.’ Mike shakes his head and with an embarrassed smile as he hands it to him. Oh. Will holds his hand over his mouth in a failed attempt at muffling a laugh, and Mike stares at him, seemingly betrayed.
‘I told you, I suck.’ Will laughs again, he can’t help it, and Mike throws himself backwards, his head over the edge of the bed.
‘No, no it’s, it’s not that bad-‘ Mike scoffs at this, and that only causes him to start laughing even harder. Mike sits up at this, at him, smiling at him. Will stops laughing, now completely caught up in the moment.
‘It is, so let’s just move on from this, shall we?’ Mike snatches back the drawing out of Will’s hands before he has a chance to react, holding it high in the air. Will tries to take it from him, which involves both of them being a little too close, faces only inches apart, and because of this and the fact that Mike has annoyingly long arms, he fails miserably. He sits back, Mike smiling triumphantly, and he starts to rectify the situation.
‘Ok, it’s not amazing, I admit it.’ Mike holds a hand over his heart, feigning a shocked expression. Will rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to snatch back the drawing. ‘But, there are a few things you can fix. Here, let me show you.’
He turns the drawing towards Mike and starts to point out what's wrong with it, how to improve his technique and positioning, and he seems to have his full attention. Until Mike cuts him off mid-sentence, another idea in his head.
‘How about you draw something then, show me how it’s done?’ He raises an eyebrow, with a small smile matching it, and Will caves in seconds.
‘Um yeah, sure, that could work.’ He looks around for inspiration. ‘What should I draw? The candle, something from memory, your drawing but better…’ (Mike throws a pillow at him, and he laughs) ‘or I could draw—'
‘Me’ Mike interrupts. ‘Draw me.’ Will stares at him, trying to make sense of what he just said, and their eyes lock. Mike sits up straight, almost nervously, and breathing once again becomes a difficult task. Will nods, unable to say anything, trying to focus on the task at hand. He starts to study his face. This is his one legitimate excuse to look at Mike, and he selfishly takes advantage of it. He could probably draw him perfectly from memory, but still traces him with his eyes anyway. His sharp cheekbones, his messy curls, the freckles that look almost painted on, the cupid bow and fullness of his lips, and then his eyes-
They meet each other’s gaze, and for a second, the world seems to stop. Those warm chocolate eyes, which he never wants to look away from, staring into his. But Mike did look away, all too quickly, and Will looks away soon after. To avoid his racing mind, he lets muscle memory take over as he begins to draw, letting the familiarity of the task calm him down. He used to do this all the time when he was younger, picture Mike, and let himself draw him. Before he realised why he was doing it, before he realised how harmful he was being to himself by doing this. His crush on him was there long before he even knew what one was.
He glances up every now and then, as his face has changed since he last drew it. It’s lost some of its softness, the lines straighter, sharper. His hair is shorter than it was a few months ago, the curls a little messy, in a charming way. He looks different, time aging him more than Will had even realised. Yet he still has the same lips, eyes, long eyelashes, the face that he adores.
After a while he stops drawing, pretty much finished with his sketch. He could draw for hours, nit-picking every little detail, editing every line until he can't stand to look at it anymore. He can't do that now, so instead he just looks at his work, not quite happy with it. Mainly because he can never truly draw Mike perfectly, because only the real version of him is perfect. He feels a little bashful knowing he has to show him, but he looks up to see an encouraging look on Mike’s face. So, he passes it to him, unable to look at him, wondering if he can sense his feelings in each stroke of the pencil, each line a silent confession. Cautiously, he looks at him, scared of his reaction, but is taken aback by the smile on his face.
‘Will, this is- I can’t believe- wow.’ His face is so full of awe and pride, and his insides start to melt.
‘Guess I win then?’ he jokes and Mike punches him playfully.
‘Shut up.’ He laughs, and as he continues to stare at the drawing, a comfortable silence settles over them. Something about this moment feels so vulnerable, meaningful, and he makes a mental note to commit this to memory. Mike’s smile, them laughing, the darkness somehow comforting when with him. It’s perfect, better than he could have ever hoped. He feels like he’s getting his best friend back, and the hope that gives him is overwhelming.
He hears Mike yawn, and suddenly realises how late it must be.
‘Mike?’
‘Mmhm?’
‘It’s late, and you look like you could use some sleep.’ Mike shakes his head, but the exhaustion on his face is painfully obvious.
‘I don’t want you to stay up if you’re exhausted, it’s honestly fine.’
‘No, I want to stay up. I’m not tired, really.’ There’s this hint of desperation in his voice that leaves Will a little confused. It’s an obvious lie, but neither of them wants to admit that, so they settle back into silence. However, it’s no longer as comfortable, and the awkwardness is starting to kill him. He racks his brain, trying to think of anything to say, to break this weird moment. He remembers the conversation with El from earlier. It feels so long ago now, and random, but the curiosity and need to break the silence over-rules his judgement, so he starts to speak.
‘Mike?’
‘Yeah?’
‘So um, I wanted to ask you at some point, but um-’ Why can he never seem to finish a sentence around him?
‘What is it?’ Mike looks at him, urging him to continue, and he breathes deeply before speaking.
‘Well, it’s dumb but, I’ve noticed that you hardly see El anymore, and talking to her today and everything, I just wanted to ask if you guys are, ok?’
Mike looks at loss for words, and Will kicks himself for asking this. Why bring this up now? They were finally getting along, after all this time, and he must have overstepped a boundary, ruined the moment. Why did he have to ask this? Regret forces his mouth to move before his mind can catch up.
‘I mean, you don’t have to tell me, I know you don’t owe me an answer, and I’m probably overstepping, so just forget it.’
He looks down at his hands in his lap, unable to look him in the eyes, waiting for an answer of any sorts.
‘Sorry, um, you caught me off guard, that’s all, I just needed a second.’
Will looks up, and Mike is staring at his hands too.
‘Me and El, well, we- ugh, there’s no easy way of saying this.’ Will stares at him, confused, and without thinking, taps Mike’s knee. Startled, he looks up, and crumbles after seeing Will’s gaze.
‘We broke up.’
Will is at a loss for words, his mouth hanging open. He stares blankly at Mike, trying to understand, to comprehend what he just heard. He hardly has any time to react before Mike speaks again, as if he's been needing to get this off his chest.
‘I mean, it was for the best, we both agreed it was what we needed you know? And we’re still friends but it’s more awkward now, and I don’t mean to avoid her but it’s easier in a way. Like if I went to see her now, we’d both be thinking about it and even though I don’t have feelings for her, its still, yeah.’
Will closes his mouth, trying to make the cogs in his mind turn. This is too much information all too fast.
‘Wait, huh?’
Mike laughs, and looks away.
‘Sorry, I know I’m rambling, sometimes I just have so much to say and—'
‘No it’s not that, it’s just, huh?’
Mike stares at him, now also confused.
‘Since when, how, what? You guys seemed fine, so concrete, and, huh?’
Mike laughs again, and Will can’t help but laugh too. Which is so random, but they can’t help it. This conversation is so random. It fizzes out after a while, and Mike attempts to speak again.
‘It happened a few days ago, and I’ve been too embarrassed to tell anyone yet. Like, even though it’s a good choice, the fact that I have to tell people and then they ask me questions just, ugh, it’s too much you know?’
Will nods, still trying to understand. A few days ago? He’s been dealing with this for ages, not telling anyone at all? No wonder he looks so exhausted, so worn out. He wishes that he’d told him sooner, he hates the idea that he’s been dealing with this alone.
‘You haven’t told anyone yet?’ he asks, for confirmation. Mike shrugs, and sighs.
‘I wanted to tell someone as soon as it happened, I really did. And I was going to, but it was late and you were in the basement probably asleep, and I guess I felt guilty telling you this? I didn’t want to worry you, and the longer I waited to tell you, the harder it got.’
Will realises what he’s trying to say. He didn’t want to tell someone; he wanted to tell him. Him specifically. Mike had thought about it, but was too scared too? He was the first person he wanted to tell? But he thought, after everything, that they weren’t close enough anymore, that he didn’t really think about him that much anymore? He was the one he wanted to tell first. He is the one that he told first.
‘You wanted to tell me?’ he whispers.
‘Of course I did. I mean, I know we haven’t properly hung out in a while, but you’re still my best friend Will.’ His heart lights up, and he smiles so big his face hurts. Best friends. Mike still thinks of him as his best friend.
‘You’re mine too, Mike.’ Mike smiles back at him, with a sigh of relief, which baffles him. Did he really think that he wasn’t his best friend still? Will stops smiling to focus on the main issue here. He goes over everything in his head to fully understand, and his heart stops as he zooms in on one specific thing that was said.
‘Wait, hold up. Did you say you don’t have feelings for her?’
He stares at Mike, and he stares back, and the question hangs between them.
Since when? If it was only a few days ago, so surely he’d still have feelings for her? Why doesn’t he? What’s he missing here? Is that why they broke up, due to him losing feelings?
‘Um…’ Mike tries to speak, but fails. The candlelight flickers over him, and Will swears he can see him blush again.
‘Mike?’ Will rests a hand on his knee, to once again pull him back into the moment. He looks down at his hand, his breathing getting slightly quicker, and Will pulls away, not wanting to overwhelm him. It takes a second, but he answers the question.
‘I-I um, no. Not really.’
The way that he admits this feels important, and Will finds himself holding his breath, waiting for him to elaborate. Mike drops his shoulders, letting the tension of this secret roll of him, and starts to talk again.
‘It’s just, for a while now I’ve felt, disconnected from her, like there was something off between us. I thought it was just the fact that she moved to California, but when I went to see her, I still felt it.’
The mention of California is like a punch to the stomach. That day, the roller rink, the arguments. He was the one that felt disconnected, not Mike. Right?
‘And when she left, I was so scared, and wanted her to be ok, but I didn’t feel as sad as I thought I would. Like, even though she was gone, and I missed her, I didn’t like, really miss her, as much as I should have. And when we reunited everything was off, and I guess it just went downhill from there.’
Will lets out a breath as he tries to take this all in. Mike missed El, but didn’t?
‘So wait, what are you trying to say?’ he asks, desperate for some clarity. He feels as if he’s missing something big, like there’s an overarching secret in the air.
‘I guess I’m trying to say that I love El, I still do, but I guess just...’ It takes him a while to say it, as if he’s preparing himself to tell a big secret, something he’s been too afraid to say out loud.
‘Just not, romantically?’
Will tries to speak, but can’t. His head is spinning, and he tries to make sense of what he’s saying. Mike doesn’t like El romantically? What?
They both sit in silence, and Mike falls onto the bed. Will copies him, and they lie next to each other, their breaths the only sound in the room. Everything feels loud and quiet all at once, and they're close, but also not close enough together. A question echoes in his head, and he can taste the words on his lips. Something he really shouldn’t ask, and shouldn’t need to, yet feel this undeniable urge to. He knows what he’s about to say is risky, but he can’t keep it to himself.
‘Mike’ he whispers, breaking the silence.
‘Mmhm?’
‘Did you, did you ever like El romantically?’
He holds his breath, his heart racing, and he hears Mike’s breath hitch. Why did he say that? Of course he did? They spent a whole summer together kissing constantly (according to Lucas, which made Will want to throw up when he heard it), and the letters, the speech, everything. Of course he liked her romantically, he had to have.
He hears Mike breathe deeply, shakily, and his voice is unsteady.
‘I’m, I’m not sure.’
Will’s heart stops in his chest, and everything is too much for him to handle. His mind is racing, desperate to comprehend what he’s just been told. Mike doesn’t, didn’t ever have romantic feelings for El? Even after everything. The summer they were inseparable, the confession in the pizza place, the I love yous, everything that they did together. The whole time, Mike didn’t actually want El? At least, that way? Does that mean, he doesn’t want anyone, or does that mean, there’s someone else? No, there can’t be. It’s always been El, only El. Except, apparently it hasn’t been?
He can hear Mike’s fast breathing, matching his own. He’s suddenly very aware of the fact that they’re both in this bed together, so close that they’re almost touching. Will shivers slightly, and Mike seems to snap out of his trance at this. He sits up and picks up the blankets, pulling one over them, and wrapping one around Will. His hands brush Will’s shoulders, the touching making him shiver, but not from the cold, and neither of them dare to look the other in the eyes. Mike adjusts the blanket until he’s satisfied, before lying back down. Will’s so lost, confused, and wishes Mike would keep talking. But he knows he won’t, so he instead focuses on trying to slow it all down, to stop his mind racing. He lies on his back, his arms to his sides, taking slow deep breaths. And maybe he’s imagining it, but he swears a hand brushes against his own, lightly, and it doesn’t move. The touch feels electric, and it sends shocks through his nervous system. Lying here, in the dark, after everything that’s been said, it all feels amplified. He definitely isn’t imagining it, as fingers lace through his, soft and warm. Mike is holding his hand. On purpose, and they fit perfectly together. The storm has long been forgotten, and so has his fear, so somehow, he feels himself start to drift off. They fall asleep like this, together, lying in a room where so much has been said, yet not enough. And neither of them dares to move an inch.