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He could recount every second of the moment El left with vivid detail. He remembers feeling cold, not even from the chill of the November air, feverish even. He remembers the grief he felt, Eleven holding his shoulders gingerly; tears in her eyes as she spoke to him, shaky breaths and unsteady words. He felt so much, in so little time.
“Please don’t leave me, El,” He had begged, holding her tightly. His voice shook like a crying child, fragile in her grasp. “Please don’t do this.” His voice barely above a whisper, a plea in his tone, full of desperation he hadn’t felt in forever.
She would pull away, looking into his eyes as she pulled his head to hers, “I will always be with you,” She had replied, and he knew she wouldn’t comply with him, consider coming back for him. He knew he didn’t possess the power to change her mind, and he knew he hadn’t for a long time.
And yet, she said it anyway, “I love you.”
The crack in her voice was devastating, a high-pitched cry of affection, or perhaps a trial, one last shot to see through him, for once. A plea for affection towards him, affection she’d been chasing since before Lenora.
Michael Wheeler was dumb, he knew he was an idiot, he knew, right now especially, he was not thinking straight; he knew he wouldn’t be able to wrap up this three year long conglomerate of confusion wracking and chipping away at his conscience in the short amount of time he had left with Eleven, so he didn’t.
Michael Wheeler froze. Saying nothing, feeling everything. He stood in front of her, lip trembling with the dam of tears steadily leaking, threatening to overflow, clouding his mind. And Michael Wheeler stayed silent.
She embraced him with a kiss anyways, pulling him close, and he tried to melt into it. And pulling back, the look in her eye told him, briefly, that she understood that he would stay silent. She understood his last words to her would just be his desperate plea for her to stay, and never the explanation she wanted as to why.
He felt sick with dread and guilt, confusion and desperation, everything. He thought maybe his silence made it easier for her to leave, and even if that guilt was killing him, he still didn’t open his mouth.
And yet, she waited. A few seconds was all she took, as she searched in his gaze and found nothing.
No words clawed at the back of Michael Wheeler's throat, he wasn’t holding back anything, and she knew that.
“Goodbye, Mike.”
She didn’t wait this time. Not even for a goodbye. His breath hitched, gasping as he was thrust out of her mind, crashing into two soldiers who grabbed at him harshly; he didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel it as he clawed to get out, to rush to her, to stop her. He couldn’t let her be right, he had to say something, he had to do something.
The guilt pounded in his head like a migraine of its own as he screamed her name, voice raw with guilt and regret. Pushing violently against the soldiers who showed no mercy. Desperation burned his vocal cords, knowing he was powerless, useless. He didn’t stop the relentless struggle, even as she didn’t budge, even as the knowledge that his pointless, desperate and somewhat angry calling only made things worse, only added to the chaos. He didn’t stop, not until the flaming, cloudy wind of the upside down consumed her, erupting with deafening volume, tugging at the world around them with violent winds that shook the ground as the vacuum of a void sealed itself.
Leaving nothing but silence in absence. No portal, no Upside Down, no El. Just a hole in the library, a void of its own.
Michael Wheeler was defeated. His legs moved for him, taking him closer, slowly, delicately. His breath shook, struggling to take in air, suffocating him. The weight of the shock, despair, and guilt digging into his back made him weak, crushing his lungs; his chest ached, stomach heavy with dread.
His legs finally buckled, crashing to his knees harshly, staring into that void, soft scoffs escaping his chest as tears found their way to his eyes again. A steady flow pulling him in a slouched position as his chest tightened. He felt like he was dying, he felt like he would never get up, that the weight of his anguish pinned him to the ground and would never let go.
He felt a hand on his back, it was light, delicate, hesitant, breaking his tunnel vision. Mike choked on his breath as he turned and saw Will, tears in his eyes as he looked down at Michael’s defeated form. Mike stared at Will for a long moment before looking back at the wreckage slowly, saying nothing. Subtly, though, he shifted, letting his upper body lean closer to Will, and he felt the other boy’s hand settle firmer into Michael’s back, a grounding touch.
Will crouched down to Mike’s level, sniffling harshly as he followed the other’s gaze to where the portal once was. His voice was soft, “I’m sorry.”
Michael felt that flare of dread at the boy’s words, making his chest jump. He clenched his jaw as he tensed, stifling a sob threatening to lurch out of him. Michael was cold, he was so cold.
Despite how vivid he can remember those fateful moments, Mike didn’t really remember the many hours after them.
A thick fog, consisting of every thought and question and theory his tired brain could think of clouded his mind, blocking everything else out. He vaguely remembered being asked questions about what happened, and really, he had the same questions as the men dressed in camo had, if not more. He vaguely remembers a medical examiner checking him for injuries. He vaguely remembers a shower, standing in the steam as the water hit his back, staring blankly at the wall for an undetermined amount of time (not stopping until the sudden temperature change of the water broke him from his thoughts). And after all of that, someway, maybe by a miracle, he ended up in his basement, back facing the door, staring at the table where it all started; lost.
“Mike?”
He took a breath, a quiet gasp, suddenly aware that he hadn’t in a while, so much so his chest ached dully. He turned around, Will standing in the stairwell to his basement, a slightly worried furrow in his brow, gingerly making his way down the steps.
“Will.” He said breathily, voice taking on a slight rasp from his unhealed vocal cords.
“I just… wanted to check on you. See if you were… doing alright.” He finally made his way to the final step, hesitating with his hand still on the railing.
“I’m…” He trailed off, struggling to find any words to describe how he’s feeling, “...holding up.” he settled on with a sigh and a nod, walking to the couch and slumping into it heavily, slouched over, elbows resting on his knees. He stared at the floor for a long moment before looking back at Will, his gaze softening, “You?”
Will’s brow relaxed as he walked over to Mike, sitting down beside him. “Holding up.” He echoed playfully, nodding with a heavy breath, looking at the other who returned his gaze with a soft exhale of a laugh.
The two fell silent as the small smile from Mike’s face fell, and he turned his gaze back to the floor. He felt Will shift uncomfortably, taking in a breath that made Michael look up at him expectantly.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking, “What did she say to you?” He asked delicately, “Before she…” He trailed off, “If you don’t mind me asking?”
Mike drew in his breath slowly, prepping himself. “She wanted me to make sure you guys understood why she was choosing that, over finding another solution. She said I was the one who understood her better than anyone,” His brow furrowed, “That I always have. And I needed to make you guys understand, when I eventually understood.”
Will hesitated, “That’s kind of beautiful, in its own way. She loved you-”
“No.” Mike interrupted, voice a weak whisper, bordering on a sob. “It’s not.” He felt Will tense beside him, struggling to reply. “She didn’t pick me because I was the one who understood her the most.” He shook his head, slouching further. “If anything, I understood her the least.” His tone dripped with guilt, voice cracking at the sentence. “And… I think she chose me because…because I was the only one who couldn’t convince her to stay.” He took a sharp breath as he stifled a sob, chest jumping at its impact.
“Mike..” Will whispered softly, turning to face the other.
“And I just proved her right.” Mike struggled to get the words out, shaking his head.
“She had already made up her mind, none of us could have stopped her.”
“I couldn’t even say 'I love you' to her!” Mike threw his hand up in frustration. He looked at Will, voice cracking as he spoke, “That’s who’s always understood her the most? No… No, she chose me because she knew I couldn’t say it! Nothing I could say would keep her here!” His tone was guilt-ridden as he looked desperately into Will’s gaze, who returned confusion, and a hint of worry.
Will looked at Mike for a long moment, before hesitantly asking, “Why couldn’t you?”
Mike’s gaze suddenly softened as he stared into Will’s, one eye to the other. A small, almost imperceptible thought pricked the back of his mind as he studied Will, the reason why he couldn’t.
But Mike didn’t say that. “I don’t know.” he muttered, defeated as he turned away from Will. “I don’t know.” He took a long pause, “I don’t know anything about anyone right now, let alone myself? I’m so hurt, but at the same time, guilty? For- For everything, and I don't know what to do, or feel, or say to make anything feel better. And- And it’s driving me crazy.”
Will’s hand rested firmly on Michael’s shoulder. Mike looked up at the other with teary eyes, finding a soft smile that contrasted everything he was feeling right now, and his brow furrowed with confusion. “Well, If we’re both going crazy, then we’ll go crazy together, right?” Will laughed softly, tilting his head subtly, gently squeezing Mike’s shoulder.
Mike’s lips parted with a soft breath, expression relaxing as he stared at Will. The corner of his mouth gently pricked upwards with a fond scoff. His mind seemed to clear for a moment, channeling back to that memory, the feeling he got from it, the warmth.
Michael Wheeler felt words clawing at the back of his throat as he gazed at Will, and suddenly Michael Wheeler was holding back.
But Michael Wheeler didn’t say them. Instead, his eyes stung as tears began their steady pace once more, and he choked on his breath as a sob escaped his chest. And without thinking, Michael Wheeler pushed himself into the other, clinging tightly as if his life depended on it. He felt Will tense for a short moment, before relaxing, bringing a comforting hand to hold Mike’s back, the other cupping the back of Mike’s head, grasping his dark curls consolingly. He pulled him closer, and Mike sobbed into the other’s shoulder, hand wrinkling the back of Will’s shirt as he grasped it tightly, the other arm slung over his shoulder to keep him close.
Mike clung to Will like he was his only lifeline; like if he’d let go, he’d drown. He buried his head in Will's shoulder, muffling his sobs and uneven breaths. And Will never let go, he never pulled away, he didn’t try to speak. He held that weeping boy firmly, hand eventually rubbing gentle circles into his back, breathing slowly in hopes Mike would follow; a silent tear of his own falling softly as he tried to be a grounding presence for Michael, if nothing else.
Despite how vivid he remembered their interaction, Michael didn’t remember his sobs slowing into slow hiccups, catching his breath, or relaxing into Will as he repositioned them on Mike’s old basement couch, Mike's head resting on Will's steady chest. And Michael certainly didn’t remember falling asleep in Will’s grasp after he’d calmed down, Will still rubbing those soothing circles into his back as Mike relaxed.
But Michael does remember waking up.
He sighed softly, seeing the soft orange glow of the lamps illuminate the brown palette of his basement. He stared at the ground for a dazed moment, his hand in front of him tightening around a yellow fabric he was lying on. He focused his gaze on it, furrowing his brow in confusion as his groggy mind struggled to come up with an idea as to what it was. He sat up, gaze finding its way to Will’s face, asleep underneath Mike. Mike felt his face flush as his heart dropped to his stomach, very lightly releasing Will’s shirt and standing up, feather-light to not wake Will, suddenly tense. He panicked for a quick moment, that familiar twinge of guilt seeping into his subconscious, making him grimace as he looked around, unsure of how to handle his current situation. He couldn't... He wasn't... Or maybe?
Thoughts clawed at the back of Michael Wheeler’s mind. But Michael pushed the thoughts down, swallowing harshly.
Will Byers woke up alone that morning.
Eighteen months was long enough for everyone to move on. Everyone had it figured out, everyone had a plan, peace of mind, better days ahead. Everyone except for Mike.
Sitting at the bench in front of the library, he bounced his leg, recounting every second of the moment El left. Along the way, his mind would try to sneak in that night with Will, and every time it did, he pushed it down.
He replayed every dialogue over and over, inventing new ones, creating new, fictional time lines. Each one, however, all logically led to the same outcome. She was gone. He’d done this for a while, tortured himself everyday with the guilt of his choices, and the possibility of new, even worse ones. Along the way, after bringing himself to the edge one too many times, Michael invented a coping mechanism. He found that his imagination was the only thing he had going for him. He would imagine where his friends would end up after high school, their stories and special moments they could have, all the great things that could happen to them. It brought him comfort.
Michael liked to stay in the realm of possibility, it made him feel better about the odds of every happy fantasy coming true. Lucas and Max on a movie date, or Dustin still making time for his friends even in college. But reality wasn’t ideal for dealing with guilt. And he found that delving outside the probability of what could and could not be reality made it a little easier to deal with. Maybe if El wasn’t really gone, if she’d just simply convinced everyone she was, then he wouldn’t feel so bad for how he felt about-
“Thought I’d find you here.” Mike looked up to see Hopper, walking up to him. Mike turned away with a soft sigh, pushing down the thought again. “Your mom’s freaking out.” Hopper informed with his usual hint of sarcasm, “I can’t say I blame her. I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this town kind of has a history of kids going missing.” He sat down, looking at Mike expectantly.
“I can’t explain it to her,” Mike started solemnly, staring at where the portal used to be. “She’ll never understand why I can’t do it. Why I can’t walk the stage, accept the future. Like I’m just… okay with moving on, but I’m not.” He shook his head, the air between them falling silent. Until Mike sighed, “I had this plan.” He turned, looking at Hopper, “I told her there was a place with three waterfalls,” he grimaced slightly at the memory, “that we’d go there after everything was over, and we’d be safe.” Mike turned back to the ground, his tone flat. “It was all fake, just fantasy talk, to make things feel better.” He shook his head again, “It should have been real. I should have offered her something real, and then… maybe-”
“Hey.” Hopper turned to him, his tone soft yet firm, “It’s not your fault.” He asserted, and Mike didn’t protest, looking at Hopper with an almost desperate expectancy. And after a short moment and a deep breath, Hop continued, “You’ve got two roads ahead of you. You got one road, where you keep blaming yourself for what happened,” Mike felt tears pricking at his eyes again, a familiar feeling as of the last year and a half, but still, he turned away, choking them back as he listened. “...you keep going over it in your head, going over and over what you could’ve done differently, you push everyone away, and you suffer. Because you think it's what you deserve.”
Each word Hop said brought a memory of its own, each one making his chest ache. You push everyone away and you suffer. Because you think it's what you deserve. Will flashed into Michael’s mind. That same morning. Refusing to let himself enjoy that moment, refusing to let himself feel the warmth he’d felt, even sobbing in Will’s arms. Mike blinked back his tears, staring at Hopper intently as he took a shaky breath.
Hop turned away, “And then there’s the other road.” He paused for a long moment, “Where you learn to find a way to accept what happened. You find a way to accept her choice. Doesn’t mean you gotta like it, doesn’t mean you gotta understand it, or never think about it. You just accept it.” Mike felt a painful twinge at the words, unable to keep all his tears back, one sliding down his cheek. “...And you live the best goddamn life you can.” Hopper sighed, finally turning back to Mike.
Mike didn’t look at him, “She wanted me to make sure you all understood why. But right now? I feel like everyone understands but me.” He sighed, hanging his head, “I don’t think I’ll ever.”
Hopper put a hefty hand on Mike’s shoulder, causing the boy to sway slightly at the impact, “That makes two of us.” Mike looked up at him pitifully, struggling to choke back his tears, a scoff escaping his throat again. Hopper looked at him steadily, “But you can’t stop living because of it.”
Hop pulled Mike into a hug, the boy accepting gingerly as he quietly let himself cry, replaying his words in his mind. And you live the best goddamn life you can. Mike wanted to ask How? How could he ever? Where the hell would he even start? But he knew the answer, the answer had been there since the beginning, since the day she left, since the morning he woke up on Will’s chest.
Michael Wheeler had thoughts crawling up the back of his mind, and suddenly, he wasn’t pushing them down. Eighteen months later, and he worried Eighteen months too late.
Hopper pulled back, Michael sniffling as he looked up at the man, “Now, before your mom thinks you got taken by a demogorgon, let’s get you to that graduation, alright?”
Mike laughed, wiping his tears, “Alright.”
He watched as everyone put up their respective books on his shelf after their campaign and his sappy speech, everyone teary-eyed as they headed upstairs to eat the lasagna his mom had prepared. He felt a bittersweet melancholy wrap around him as everyone filed out, but as he watched Will walk over last, the taste turned overwhelmingly bitter with regret.
Mike was slow to follow, walking over just as Will made it to the bottom of the staircase, slowly setting his book next to Will's. He stared at their names next to each other, the yellow and blue text seeming to glow in the lamp light, so much clearer than everything else, a painted picture, or a distant memory; and his chest tightened. “And you live the best goddamn life you can.” His breath was hard to catch as it slipped farther away from him, fighting back tears again as he stared at the spines. He removed his hand slowly from the cover, his fingers retracting before-
“Will?” Michael called without thinking, turning to the stairwell, where Will was merely inches away from the doorhandle.
He turned around curiously, “Yeah?” Mike’s face flushed as he felt a pit in his stomach, suddenly realizing what he was about to do.
“Uh..” Mike started shakily, swallowing harshly, “Can we talk for a second?”
“Yeah, of course.” Will nodded, trotting back down the stairs. He was so sure of himself, so quick to comply even though a loud enough voice in the back of Mike's head told him he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve him. “What’s up?” Will asked as the two met in front of the staircase.
Mike swallowed again, his throat dry, “I never… I never thanked you for that night.” He sighed shakily, “The night El disappeared. When you were there for me.” Mike nodded, looking into Will’s gaze, searching for anything to help him keep going through with this unthought out plan.
Will looked slightly surprised, shaking his head with a quick blink to fix his expression, “Yeah! Uh, what are best friends for, right?” He said sheepishly, shrugging.
Mike’s brow furrowed as he shook his head silently, getting faster, more anxious after just a few moments, “No..” he exhaled.
Will suddenly looked worried, “No?” He asked nervously, “I- What?”
“No, not ‘no’ like that-” Mike suddenly corrected himself, “Sorry, just-” He groaned, putting his head in his hands, “You make it look so easy!” Mike grit with frustration.
“Make… what?” Will’s expression grew increasingly worried as he watched Mike rub his temples anxiously.
“Being comfortable! And talking!” Mike gestured with his hands to Will wildly, finally looking into Will’s worried gaze and immediately sobering. “Sorry.. I shouldn’t have… said it like that..” Mike sighed softly, lowering his hands.
“Mike, what’s wrong? Did I… Did I do something?”
“No! No..” Mike shook his head, “Look, Will,” He took his hand, taking a shaky breath to prepare himself, “I’m sorry.” he started firmly, “For everything the last, well, forever.” He shut his eyes as he spoke, the quiver in his voice evident, “I’m sorry I pushed you away, I’m sorry I got so focused on El, I stopped focusing on you. I’m sorry for ever getting mad at you for wanting us the way we were, I’m sorry about Lenora, I’m sorry for not being there when you needed me, I’m sorry I left you on my couch, I’m sorry for pretending we were never that close in the first place, I’m just…” Mike trailed off, out of breath, finally opening his eyes and looking at Will, who stared back in surprise.
Michael Wheeler felt words clawing at the back of his throat, and this time, he did not hold back.
“Look, Will, what I’m trying to say is… I need you.” His face heated up, “And I’m sorry for ever pretending like I didn’t, or that I shouldn’t; I was scared. I was scared of what that meant, and even after everything you said back at the squawk, I was still scared, and I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, or finally accept the fact that I do. And- And I’m sorry if it's too late, or if it's stupid. I’ve just.. I’ve repressed this for so long because I thought if I didn’t, it would prove my theory right about El, and that I’m just an asshole who she wasted time on. And I know I don’t deserve you, but a part of me, or maybe all of me wants you. Wants to feel like it did that night, and I think…” He let out a quick sob, “I think I love you.” He heaved, the words coming out with such ease the inertia was enough to knock him off his feet. He struggled to catch his breath, butterflies tormenting his already weak stomach, causing him to slouch over.
“Mike..”
“I’m sorry..” he huffed weakly, “If that’s not what you wanted to hear. I know it's probably been too long, I know I'm too late, but I've repressed these feelings for so, so long, and- and I can't! Not anymore. I'm sorry-"
Will cut him off, “Mike, are you kidding?” He laughed softly, a small smile on his lips as he took a step closer to the other, who looked into his gaze expectantly, “That’s all I’ve wanted to hear.” He smiled gingerly, a tear pricking at his eye as he gently took Mike’s cheek in his hand.
The two stared at each other for a soft moment, both staring in each other's eyes hesitantly. Mike exhaled in relief at the other's words, eyes darting all over Will's face, bouncing between his eyes and lips, feeling the warmth of his hand on his cheek. It overwhelmed him, but in a good way. Will didn't move, staring at Mike with a soft glimmer in his eyes and a small smile. The look make Mike's chest tighten with longing, the feeling of everything he'd been suppressing hitting his brain like a tidal wave, enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. This overwhelming want to be closer to Will consumed him, and it only took another quick glance at Will's lips to get Michael to throw himself into Will.
He put his hand on the back of Will's head, pulling his face to his, their lips meeting in the middle with a haste that stunned Will. He blinked in surprise, but Will quickly folded into the kiss, pulling Mike’s torso against his own. The two fit perfectly as Will wrapped himself around Mike, an arm coming up to the back of the other's head, digging his hand into Mike's hair; and the other across his lower back, pulling him closer, securing him.
Michael didn’t have to try to melt into this kiss.
He let Will bring him closer, sighing into his mouth as he cupped both sides of Will’s face in his palms. Michael could taste his own tears as they shared their deep embrace, parting once for shaky breaths before Mike reconnected their lips once more. He didn’t care, he let the tears fall as he embraced the warmth he’d been craving since that night; and my God, did this hit the spot.
The kiss was long, deep with years of pining and longing, only broken by quick gulps of air to dive back in, each melting into the other's touch, tripping over themselves. Mike's back hit the railing of his stairwell, but he didn't seem to mind, never breaking their kiss. A rush of feelings and relief flooded the both of them at once, only fueling the passionate, desperate fire blossoming at the bottom of the staircase, finally complete. He'd never felt anything like this, not with El, and somehow, the guilt of that statement didn't reach him as he moved one of his hands to the back of Will's head, fingers nestling in his hair, no doubt disheveling it, Will didn't care.
“Michael! Lasagna!” His mom called from the kitchen, but neither Will nor Mike cared to answer.
They parted from the embrace, holding each other’s faces close, staring into each other’s teary eyes, out of breath, both just as surprised as the other as to what they’d just done. Mike was flushed, out of breath as a tear fell down his cheek again, feeling too many emotions to list. Will blinked, smiling softly as he used his thumb to wipe the tear from the other's face, and suddenly, Mike felt a genuine smile find its way to his lips.
Will let a soft cry escape his mouth, "I love you too."
Michael Wheeler has had this thought clawing at the back of his mind forever, and finally, this time, he didn’t hold back. And he felt warm.