Chapter Text
197 days.
It has been one hundred and ninety seven days since Will Byers last spoke to Mike Wheeler.
And this time it wasn't even Mike’s fault.
They've had their fights before, the occasional day without talking. But never this long. Never because of Will.
And he wasn't going to make contact now. Not when Mike had made it clear that he was done with Will. When Mike couldn't even look his direction, say his name. When he was a ghost in the eyes of Michael Wheeler.
Will stands in his room, holding the landline he had been gifted for his 16th birthday by his mother last year.
Just one call. He thought. Just dial his number.
But Will stays frozen in place, the phone feeling heavy in his palm.
He and Mike were never the type to call each other, none of their friends were. They'd always used their walkie talkies since forever. But after their big falling out, Mike made everyone switch channels to talk to him, a channel he made them keep a secret from Will.
If only he hadn't been a complete fool. If only he had listened to Mike.
-
“He's not a good guy, Will” Mike’s hair is messy from the rain, his clothes soaked through. He's shaking. “I've seen him with his friends. He's not like us—I don't get why you're so hellbent on being friends with him!”
“He treats me better than you ever did!” Will shouts back, teeth chattering. a thin raincoat over his already damped shirt “He's nice, and he cares about me! More than you ever could!” The words spill out before he can think, before he knows if he's even meant them.
Mike flinches back. His eyes glazing over with a look of hurt. Deep hurt. His jaw clenches.
“If that's what you really think then fine! But don't come crawling back to me when he does some shit to piss you off.” He spits out with a scoff “Fuck you, Will.”
And Will is left there, staring as Mike gets back on his bike and heads home. The words he said still bitter on his tongue.
-
“Don't come crawling back to me.” Mike specifically said not to do this. Not to call. He clearly wanted nothing to do with Will.
So why is the phone still in his hand? Why not just radio Lucas, or Dustin, or go find El. He had other friends. He could talk to other people. Why Mike?
He wants to put it down. He needs to put it down. But he can't. Maybe if he tries. Maybe if he just dials, and if Mike doesn't pick up it wasn't meant to be. Maybe. Just maybe.
He punches in the numbers. His hand starts to twitch as the dial tone starts, a twitch that spreads up his arm, one that doesn't stop until he's shivering.
It rings once.
Twice.
He debates giving up, about to throw the phone down and forget about it, move on with his life forever when he hears it.
“Hello?”
There he was. Michael Wheeler. On the phone.
Will freezes up. What's there to say? He didn't plan this far ahead, he didn't plan at all.
“Hello?” He hears it repeat.
“I'm sorry i didn't mean to- this was a mistake.” Will slams the phone back down onto the hook. Fuck.
His breathing is erratic. His hand over his chest. He looks around the room, praying to find something to ground himself. When the phone starts ringing.
He swallows hard. reaching with an unsteady hand.
He holds the receiver in his palm.
“H-Hi?” He stutters out. Stupid. He thinks.
“Will.” Mike. Unmistakably. His tone almost unreadable
“I'm sorry Mike, I didn't mean to call, I must've gotten your number mixed up with someone-”
“Bullshit.” He cuts through “You know my number. You would've recognized it.”
Will stays silent at the accusation.
“Why'd you call.” Mike says, impatiently ending the silence
“I didn't mean to-”
“You can't lie to me, Will.” He was right. But Will didn't exactly know why he called. Or how to word whatever reason he had.
“Will” Mike repeats again “Talk to me.” He was using his soft voice. The one he used to use when they were 13 and Will was stuck in the hospital. The one that always worked.
“I just—I.. I miss you?” There's no short answer Will can choke out for whatever he's gone through in the last six months. “And i need someone” he chokes out. Pathetic
There's a pause. “..It's okay, Will. I—uh, It's.. Okay.” Mike sighs through the receiver “You—I… I'm here.”
Will sucks in a breath. “I'm sorry.” He doesn't know if he's apologizing for calling or for the months of silence.
Mike doesn't know either. “Don't be. It's okay. Things happen, Will. People… change.”
“Not us—We don't change. We were best friends, and i fucked that up. I'm sorry, Mike.” Will breaks, “I should've called sooner. I shouldn't have let you leave, I should've gone after you-”
“Will.” Mike cuts him off. “I'm just glad you're calling now.”
Will lets out a humourless laugh “Yeah. Right.”
There's another pause. Will goes to fill it before there's a knock at his door. “Shit, I—Sorry.” He stumbles out before quickly hanging the phone up.
His bedroom door opens. “Will honey, Chance is at the door. I know you're not on the best of terms, I can turn him away-” Joyce says, her voice taking on a hushed tone
“No, Mom. It's fine. I’ll go talk to him.” he says, moving from his desk to walk past his mom, he sneaks out his bedroom, wandering to the front of his house. The front door is left closed, he opens it.
“Hey.” he's greeted by Chance Romanillos. His kind-of boyfriend. “Can i come in?” The boy says, running a hand through his hair.
Will shifts on his feet. “Uh, yeah, okay.” He says, pushing the door open wider. “Sorry—Uh, my room is.. a mess” He warns, suddenly remembering the disastrous state his bedroom currently is.
The two boys walk through the narrow halls of the Byers house, stuck in an awkward silence. “So, how have you been?” Chance says, brushing past Will to enter his room. “I mean, other than-”
“Fine. Yeah, I’ve been alright.” He cuts Chance off. Shutting his bedroom door behind them.
The tension in the room is palpable as Will sits on his bed. “Look, Chance. You're a great guy-”
“Will, don't…” He trails off. “I understand what I said was wrong, Will. and I don't expect you to wait for me..”
“Good.” Will nods “Because I’m not going to.” He presses his lips together tightly. “I want someone who I can talk to. Not to just be a make-out buddy or whatever we are. I want to be loved.” he pauses “I don't think that's what we are.”
Chance freezes “I—We can, I can be that for you”
“No.” Will shuts him down. “Chance, I don't.. I don't love you.”
The other boy winces at the words like it hurts, before his expression hardens to more of a glare “Is it because of Wheeler?” He spits, aiming to hurt.
Will flinches back “What? Mike? No-”
“Everyone knows you like him, Will. It was so obvious.” Chance scoffs “You know, my friends warned me not to get too close to you. Saying your fag tendencies would rub off on me.” He gets up. “I guess they were right.”
Will tenses. His throat starting to close up. Was it really that obvious?
“You're going to hell.” His bedroom door slams before he can get another word in. The air hitting him like ice.
Was it because of mike? Could Will really not have fallen in love with Chance because he still had lingering feelings for Mike after all this time?
He lays down on his bed, hugging a pillow to his chest. Too busy with the days events to come up with anything coherent.