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Will’s hands wouldn’t stop trembling. It had been a week since Henry’s defeat, since the nightmare he’d endured at the monster’s hands, since the torture of spilling his truth in front of all he held dear. Surely that was long enough for his hands to stop shaking, for his sleep to be dreamless—
for his heart to stop hurting.
After all, it had been a resounding victory. They had lost no one. The Wheelers had reunited. Jonathan and Mum were safe. Dustin and Lucas were normal again, especially with Max out of her coma. Steve was even back to running the radio station with Robyn.
All was well. The victory had rang somewhat hollow, especially since he hadn’t done anything useful in the end. But still, all was well. And yet—
“He was just my Tammy.”
Will bit his lip and hung his head. Around him, the basement hummed, the heaters on full blast. Boxes lay scattered, piled with clothes and junk. Jonathan hadn’t even started packing. But Will was almost done.
The government had given them a new home. One for Hopper, Mum, Jonathan, El and him. They were going to be a family together.
A corner of Will’s mouth quirked up. Family. There was some comfort in that, at least.
Will grabbed another box and hesitated. He glanced at the walls, where Mike had hung his drawings. They stared back at him, old scribblings of castles and knights and wizards. From another time, when he was young, and the world had seemed a vast, magical place, and he dreamt only of dragons and fireballs, and his best friend laughed with him until the sun had set—
“Stupid,” Will whispered, his throat clogging—as it always did these days whenever he recalled Mike’s face during his confession. “Stupid.”
Why had he mentioned the crush? It’d been enough to just tell them all he was gay. Why had he brought up Tammy? And the way Mike had blinked in understanding. Mike knew. Mike knew, and the pity in his eyes had been rejection enough. And it shouldn’t hurt because Mike was just his Tammy, and he will find his Vicky in time. He will have someone to hold and kiss and touch—
Will tried to imagine his future someone. Would his eyes sparkle like Mike’s when Will drew their DnD portraits? Would his smiles stretch from ear to ear when Will listened to his campaign plan? Would he hug Will the same way when their party won, chin poking into Will’s shoulder and hair tickling Will’s neck?
A bitter taste erupted on his tongue. Will stalked to the wall and wrenched down the drawings, ripping some from the tape that held them. He worked methodically, covering one wall, then another. The lump in his throat wouldn’t fade, and his damn hands wouldn’t stop shaking—
“Will.”
Will spun around, the drawings crumpled in his fist. Mike was just a few steps away, brows creased and something almost cautious in his eyes.
He pities you, the voice in the back of Will’s head—a mimic of Henry’s—whispered. Even now, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Even though he’s sick of your pining and your pathetic neediness.
“What are you doing?” Mike tilted his head.
Will managed a tight smile. “Just packing up. Hopper is bringing our stuff to the new place tonight.”
Mike frowned at the drawings. “Do you want them back? You never said.”
“No.” Will shrugged. “Just thought I’d clean up. Throw them away.”
Mike stared at him as though he’d just suggested burning down the house.
“Throw them away?” he repeated, the pitch of his voice rising. “Will—what—” He took a step forward, eyes flicking from Will’s fist to the bare patch of wall. “Those aren’t—they’re not rubbish to be thrown away.”
Will’s fingers tightened around the papers, crumpling them further. “They’re not important. Not anymore.”
“What?” Mike’s brows narrowed. “You gave me those!” He sounded genuinely confused. “Of course they’re important!” He gestured between them, sharp movements accompanied by a grimace. “Of course they’re important!”
Will’s heart wrenched. God, he loved him. His silly, beautiful friend whose words stumbled over each other in excitement, whose hands had always been animated, whose mouth twisted as though he was trying to find the right angle to shape his words.
Which was all the more why Will had to do this.
“It’s okay,” Will said quietly. “Mike, it’s fine.”
“No, it’s not! Those are your drawings. Or ours, since you gave them to me. Ours.”
Will forced his shoulders to relax. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”
Mike’s scowl twisted his features. “Pretend?”
Will nodded. “We’re not kids anymore. We’ve grown up. We’ve saved the world. It’s time to move on like…like Frodo and Sam.”
“Bullshit,” Mike snapped, and it took all Will had not to flinch. “You’re moving five minutes away, Will. Not to Valinor. We’re still gonna see each other all the time. In school. After school. Like—like normal.” He looked offended by the very suggestion of anything else. “It’s not like you’re leaving!”
Will’s eyes watered. He could picture those moments Mike was imagining. Sitting cross-legged on Mike’s bedroom floor, their shoulders touching as they watched The Goonies for the hundredth time. Cheering as the dice rolled, with Mike leaning over the maps, chewing his lip with concentration. Gathering in the arcade and laughing as Dustin and Lucas argued.
What wouldn’t he give for such a future?
But he couldn’t do it anymore. Just standing before Mike now, noticing the way his hair curled around his nape, the smudge of ink on his thumb, the crinkle of his nose. Seeing all this and knowing that Mike would never be his was too much to bear.
“I know.” Will’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I know we’ll see each other. And I know you and El broke up.” He watched Mike wince at the name, but kept going because if he stopped, he didn’t think he could ever continue. “But there will be another girl, Mike. You’ll—you’ll find someone. You’ll have other interests, other things that matter more. You’ll grow up.”
Mike gawked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“And Lucas and Dustin,” Will said, speeding up now, trying to outrun the ache. “They’ll drift away eventually. Lucas has Max, and his basketball. And Dustin spends more time with Steve than with us nowadays. It’s not their fault. It’s just life. Everyone grows up.” He swallowed hard. “And I think it’s time for me to move on, too.”
Mike flinched as though he'd been slapped.
“Move on from what?” Mike demanded. “From me?”
Will’s hands shook harder. He tried to hide it by dropping the drawings into the box, but it was too late. Mike saw, and his eyes softened immediately.
“Will—”
“No,” Will balled his fists, nails digging deep. “You know the crush I talked about was you. The Tammy.” He squeezed his eyes shut. “It was you. It’d always been you. For years and years now.” He exhaled hard. “I don’t even remember when it started.”
The basement heater hummed. Somewhere upstairs, a phone rang. Will opened his eyes, blinking back the tears.
For a second, Mike just stared back, slack-jawed, blank. Then anger surged, just like when Troy and James had pushed Will into the pond, just like when Lonnie tried to throw out his old DnD figures.
“What—” Mike sputtered, stalking forward. “What the—Will, are you serious?” He loomed over Will, hands waving frantically. “That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends! Best friends! Like we've always been!”
Will’s lower lip trembled. “I can’t, Mike.” He stared at Mike’s shoulder instead of his eyes. “I can’t be close to you anymore. It hurts. Let’s just go our own ways.”
“What—so that’s it?” Mike barked. “You’re just—you’re just gonna quit on me? On us? Because you—because you—”
He took another step closer, and Will inched back, his heart racing.
Mike didn’t seem to notice, his eyes bright with a furious hurt. “I didn’t do anything! I didn’t ask for this! You can't leave me!”
“I’ll be around.” Will tried for another smile but suspected it came more as a grimace. “We’ll bump into each other at school, maybe even catch up with the gang sometime. But Robin got over her Tammy and found her Vicky, and you’re my Tammy, Mike, so I need to—”
“Who the fuck is Tammy?” Mike shouted. “Is she—what—are you comparing me to some—some girl Robin liked in third grade before Vicky? Is that all I am to you? A phase you get over?” He narrowed his eyes at the drawings still in Will’s grasp. “Give them to me.”
“No.” Will hide the crumpled papers behind his back.
Mike reached for them anyway. Will barely yanked it away on time.
“Mike, stop.”
A paladin’s heart-embroidered shield torn in two.
Mike was on his knees, staring at the torn drawings scattered across the floor. Then he started moving, scuttling about on his knees, frantically scooping up pieces, pressing the sheets of paper together, trying to match torn edges and corners.
“No,” Mike muttered. “No, no—this one goes—where—where?”
He grabbed half a page with a castle tower and tried to line it with a ripped strip that didn’t belong. Tossing it away, he snatched another strip, but it didn’t match either. His hands shook worse than Will’s.
“Mike,” Will croaked.
Mike didn’t answer. He gathered all the papers dazedly, one by one, and hugged the stack once done, as if they would stitch back together if he hugged them tight enough. He breathed hard, his shoulders sagging.
Then, he began to weep. Deep, hitching sobs that made his entire body shudder. His head hung low, his hair falling into his eyes.
Will stared, stunned, each sob ripping through him. He’d expected Mike to be grateful he was leaving, grateful that he was ripping the band-aid off the wound. Sad, yes. Perhaps even pitying. But grateful to be able to keep the memory of their innocent friendship without Will’s stupid feelings tainting them.
Not this.
Not Mike looking like the sky had fallen because a few stupid drawings had ripped.
Henry’s voice slithered in. See? You break things. Stay away. Let him go. He’ll be fine without you.
Will’s chest tightened. He really should leave. Stick with the decision he’d made earlier. Lingering near Mike would just end up hurting them both.
But then Mike choked on a sob, and Will found his body moving before his mind could stop it. He crawled close.
“Mike…” Will said cautiously.
Mike didn’t look up, still crying, his eyes squeezed shut.
Will hovered, hesitating. Henry’s voice hissed, Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
But Will couldn’t bear it. He could never bear to see Mike hurting.
Slowly, he reached to clasp Mike’s shoulder. The moment his palm made contact, Mike’s sobs hitched. Without looking, he grabbed Will’s hand and held it tight like an anchor, his fingers damp and shaking.
“I’m sorry,” Will whispered. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“Don’t,” Mike choked out, voice raw. “Don’t do this.”
Will sighed. “Mike…”
“Don’t leave me.” Mike’s words came out in a torrent, occasionally interspersed with dry sobs. “Don’t—don’t decide that’s what’s best as if you’re the only one who gets to—”
“It would be easier. For you. For me. We’d be happier.”
Mike’s laugh was wet and bitter. He finally looked up, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks streaked, long lashes wet.
“Happier?” he rasped. “You think I’d be—what—relieved? That I’m gonna be like ‘oh cool, Will’s gone, now I can finally—finally—’” He broke off, sucking in a shuddering breath. “I already lost you once.” He shook his head. “To the goddamn Upside Down. Then to the pond when they dragged up your body—or your doll, whatever it was.” His throat bobbed. “I can’t lose you again, Will. I can’t.”
Will’s heart pounded. Almost absently, he noticed his hand on Mike’s shoulder had stopped shaking.
“I want to be close to you,” Mike said with a sniff. “I want…I want normal stuff. Stupid stuff. I want DnD and-and complaining about school and laughing about the mouthbreathers and—” His voice wavered. “I want to watch you draw, and I want to show you my stories, and I want to make sure you’re safe and happy and—”
He swallowed hard, and when he squinted up again, he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with a Demogorgon.
“Remember when I said we couldn’t play DnD forever?” Mike whispered. “I said it like I was—like I was being mature or something. Like I knew what I was talking about.” He shook his head. “I was wrong. It’s—it’s all I want. It’s all I—”
Will’s eyes widened. He squeezed Mike’s shoulder, trying to dampen down the flicker of hope within him.
“And I don’t understand,” Mike said quietly. “I don’t understand why thinking about you leaving hurts worse than—than anything. Worse than—worse than even El leaving, or Dustin or Lucas, or even my family.”
Will gaped. A pain stabbed in his ribs, and he remembered to breathe again.
“That’s— that’s messed up, right? That’s— I’m messed up.” Mike scrubbed a hand over his face, smearing tears across his cheek, and laughed bitterly. “You tell me you like me, and instead of—instead of being normal about it, I feel like my brain is on fire.”
Will couldn’t move. Mike’s gaze raked him, desperate and fierce and honest in a way that terrified him more than Henry ever had.
“It made me feel weird,” Mike said. “Like—like something clicked, and I didn’t want it to, but it did anyway. And it—it feels wrong and right at the same time, and I—I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Even before that day when you told everyone, my heart was weird.” Mike thudded a fist against his chest. “It—it beats too fast when you’re near, like when you come into a room and I don’t even see you yet, but I know it’s you and my whole body just—” He broke off with a snort. “And when you touch me, my skin fucking tingles? Like electricity. So I stopped—stopped hugging you first, stopped sitting too close, stopped as much as I could, because I thought if I didn’t feed it, it would go away. But it didn’t. It just got louder and louder.” He sighed and shut his eyes. “I felt like I was going crazy. Still do.”
Warmth bloomed in Will’s chest. It felt like a dream, like something he hadn't dared to even hope for.
But this wasn’t a dream. This was his Mike, eyes blotchy, voice hoarse, and snot dripping from his nose.
A mess, Henry’s hiss tickled Will’s ears. A pathetic mess.
My mess, Will replied, a new calmness welling within him. Mine. My beautiful mess.
“And why would you even—” Mike said in a plaintive whine, tugging at his hair. “Why would someone like you even like someone like me? I’m—I’m stupid. Useless. I never fucking think before I talk—”
Will lunged before Mike could finish, wrapping his arms around the boy he’d known before he even knew himself. For a heartbeat, Mike was rigid. Then he collapsed into Will, burying his face against Will’s shoulders, fisting his fingers in the back of Will’s shirt as if scared Will might disappear. He still shook, but his grip was firm and tight
“I’m here,” Will whispered, because he didn’t have any other words that could hold everything he felt. “I’m here.”
“Don’t go,” Mike mumbled into his shoulder, voice muffled. “Please, Will. Don’t leave me. Please.”
Will pulled back just enough to look at him—at the tear tracks, the flushed cheeks, at the trembling of Mike’s lips. He cupped Mike's face and brushed his thumbs over the boy's eyes, wiping away his tears.
“You make me go crazy,” Mike murmured tiredly, nuzzling into Will’s hand.
“Hey,” Will said, his voice trembling with wild, impossible emotions. Gently, he thudded their foreheads together. “If we’re going crazy, at least we’ll go crazy together, right?”
Mike huffed a wet laugh and drew him into another hug.
He will ruin you, Henry snarled, a final ditch attempt. He’ll suck you dry and leave. A parasite.
No. Will smiled into Mike’s shoulder. No, he’s my paladin. And I’m his sorceror.
And we’ll banish you together.