Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Friends? No thanks." When those words, wrapped in a blinding smile, wash over him, for one traitorous moment, Will’s heart somersaults and threatens to beat out of his chest. He dares to grant himself the tiniest flicker of hope as Mike pauses, opposite of him on the radio tower, his gaze steadfast on Will. He holds his breath, eyes widening just the slightest bit in that one second, that one second that feels like it’s stretching an entire lifetime. Memories from the past flash in front of him, intercepted by images of new possibilities. Ones that he hadn’t allowed himself to ever actually wish for. But right now it seems possible. Not likely. But possible. Just as that warm feeling tickles it’s way through him, Mike continues. "Best friends." The flicker of hope is snuffed out violently and Will comes crashing back to reality.

—— —— ——

 Will thinks back to that fated moment, now almost four years in the past.

Best friends he’d said.

Bullshit.

He realizes once again, as he awkwardly wraps his arms around Mike’s still somewhat slender frame, that it was absolute bullshit.

"Hi." Will says, forcing his voice to sound as normal and nonchalant as possible.

"Hi." Mike responds with an equally detached and forced tone. Will wants the ground to swallow him whole.

They’re both tense, too many inches between them to actually touch in any significant way. Dismissive pats on the shoulder that reek of distance and remove. Nothing about this says best friends. And it hasn’t in a long time.

The hug, if you can even call it that, is over faster than he anticipates. And Will hates himself just the tiniest bit for it. For being disappointed about that fact. Because he should know better by now. This was their reality. Their new normal. Such a stark contrast to their younger selves.

He’d immediately felt the eyes of their entire party on him when he’d opened the door to the bar, the chiming of the bell having made his presence known just shortly before he had felt himself ready to face them. His friends. And he feels awful about that. About the slight dread that pools in his stomach whenever he thinks about seeing them again. Because it’s really none of their fault.

It’s only once a year that they all actually manage to get together like this. All of them. After graduating, their paths truly diverged in a somewhat permanent way for the first time. It had felt so incredibly bittersweet back then. They’d all cried without inhibition as they’d huddled together for what felt like an ending of sorts. Not the end of their friendships, but the end of something. The end of an era. With cars and moving trucks packed for the road ahead, this new adventure that they’d be taking on individually, they’d said their goodbyes. Even in the face of the sadness he felt at leaving them behind, he knew that he wasn’t the only one who had desperately wanted and needed to get out of Hawkins. Despite the fact that it will always be home, he, as well as all of his friends, have just been through too much on this stretch of land to find true happiness there. There are simply too many unbearable memories lurking around each and every corner.

So their ways had parted. At least geographically. With the exception of Max and Lucas, who had decided to move together, all of them had dispersed across America. And Will had been absolutely terrified. The last time he had moved halfway across the country, he’d had his mother, his brother as well as El with him. A safety net. This time around, he was on his own. The party had promised to keep in touch. To update each other, send letters and pictures, call with any and all kinds of news or if they were just bored. He’d liked that idea. For their friendships to stay consistent despite the clear shift in dynamic. But the fear kept nagging at him whenever he’d thought back to what happened to his friendships the last time he’d moved away. Or rather said, one particular friendship. But some part of him was sure that it wasn’t going to happen again. They’d been through too much to drift apart again. He wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not like last time. Best friends. That’s what Mike had said.

But it quickly became pretty clear to Will that history was indeed doomed to repeat itself. But this time he wasn’t at fault. Not even partly. Because he had tried. Really, really tried. While back when he’d lived in Lenora, neither he nor Mike had put a lot of effort into staying in contact. Both of them for different reasons. This time around, he had made the effort. Will had called him. And written him. Had made the conscious decision to fight for them. But there’s only so much heavy lifting one person can do to uphold a friendship. While Lucas, Max and Dustin were calling and writing him frequently, Mike had been distant. Right from the start. Their calls were short, rarely moving beyond small talk, plagued by uncomfortable stretches of silence before one of them had inevitably bid their goodbye and hung up. Will’s letters usually stayed unanswered or were met with an emotionally removed and brief response. And he couldn’t find an explanation for it. Losing El had been hard for all of them, Mike especially. But this was bigger than that. It felt like there was something that Mike was keeping from him. Something that Will had no idea how to fix if he didn’t even know what was wrong.

It didn’t take long for Will to internalize Mike’s remove and silence. That maybe he had done something wrong. That the shift in their dynamic and friendship had been his fault. And there was that small, ugly part within himself that kept telling him that maybe Mike wasn’t as okay with Will’s feelings for him as he had said. That Mike had pretended to be okay with it to keep the peace, ready to discard him at the first possible chance. He knew rationally that that wasn’t the case. It’s Mike. The person who knows him the best. His (former?) best friend.

The first time all of them had managed to hang out together again after moving away, things had surprisingly been okay. Will had been so nervous about seeing them again. Seeing him again. But there was simply too much excitement buzzing in the air, too many stories waiting to be told, too much to catch up on, for there to be any kind of discomfort or awkwardness that would affect the group. But it also wasn’t lost on him that Mike rarely addressed him, looked his way or paid him attention, seemingly finding everything more interesting than him. But he pushed past it, for the sake of the party and in hopes that it would get better.

It didn’t.

With every meetup that followed, the tension became more obvious. The communication between Mike and Will had basically ceased to exist between the yearly meetups. Will had tried his best to move on, not let it bring him down, keep him from finding his place in the world. But it’s hard when you have some very observant friends who like to prod and poke until they get answers to their questions. So it hadn’t taken long after the first meetup for his friends to figure out that there was something wrong. They’d tried to help, tentatively reaching out to both of them to mend whatever had broken between them. But it was hard when nobody knew what the actual problem seemed to be. And despite the dread that filled him, he also couldn’t stay away. He couldn’t not go and see his friends. Not with everything they had been through.

So he really wishes he could be more excited about seeing all of his friends together in one place. But having to see Mike, when he has absolutely no idea what went wrong with the two of them, besides what the traitorous voices in his head try to tell him, always made him dread the yearly get-together.

With Mike being the last person for him to hug upon entering the bar, Will untangles his arms from around him with what feels like surgical precision and practice. He realizes, as he takes his jacket off, that there’s only one chair left, seeing as he was the last to arrive. It’s the one next to Mike. Will tries to keep the sigh internal, putting on a neutral expression as he sits down at the table, trying his absolute best to not look at the boy on his left.

And despite the underlying hurt, anger, and anxiety this friendship, if you can still call it that, has caused him, this is still Mike Wheeler. His childhood best friend. The person who disarms him like no other. Stubborn and infuriating to a fault. His first love.

Will takes a deep breath, closes his eyes for a moment as chatter once again begins to erupt at the table, and readies himself for whatever is about to come.

—— —— ——

His inhale is sharp, unexpected, when he feels Mike’s knee press against his under the table. In nothing but pure instinct, Will turns around to face him. To see if the touch had been deliberate or an accident. Surely it must’ve been the latter. When the other boy’s face comes into view, he’s shocked to not see an apologetic or uncomfortable grimace etched onto his face, before immediately turning away and inserting himself into the conversation again, if only to get away from having to spend more time looking at Will. But no, Mike looks at him, eyes slightly glazed, a somewhat dopey smile adorning his features, and his hair messy like it used to be back in the day when he’d run his hands through it one too many times. Will can’t help but stare for a moment. He’s not sure how long it’s been since he’s seen Mike like this. Not looking uncomfortable and resigned opposite of him. But instead with wonder and a hint of fondness in his eyes.

Will is transported right back to years ago, standing on shaky legs, as Mike ran towards him, eyes sparkling in a way that Will still struggles to put into words. He’s a sorcerer. A real-life, honest-to-god sorcerer. That’s what Mike had said before crashing into him, hugging him so tightly that Will feared being crushed by him. Crushed by his unabashed and warm amazement. He’d have happily suffocated under him if it meant that he’d get to be held like that by Mike for the rest of time. A whispered Mike escaped him as he let himself melt into the embrace, emotions overwhelming him, making his heart beat erratically, when a feeling of home settled in his chest.

He sees fragments of that Mike right now, in the way he’s looking at him. Will wishes he were stronger than he is, when he immediately feels his pulse jump and his heart skip a beat at having the other’s attention like this. The long abandoned feeling of home flickers in his chest for just a second. Because he knows that he can’t hope. He can’t hope for this to be a turning point in their friendship. This isn’t their normal. Not the normal Mike had clearly established with his behavior over the past few years.

Mike’s smile widens the tiniest bit, letting out something akin to a giggle before quickly turning back to the group, clumsily joining back into the conversation. Seemingly without a clue what they’re even talking about. When Mike slurs his words just the tiniest bit, things click into place for Will. He’s still staring, blinking at the other’s side profile.

Mike is drunk.

Will mentally scolds himself for not having noticed it before. For even entertaining the hope that things would get better for a single second. That Mike was looking at him the way he did when they were teenagers, not for any reason except his own desire to do so.

He hasn’t seen Mike drunk before, this being the first time all of them are of drinking age. It’s why they’d chosen this bar for this year's get-together. With all the worry and complicated feelings he’d felt before getting here, Will had forgotten that just because he doesn’t drink, the same doesn’t apply to his friends. He likes the idea of it though. Zoning out a bit, feeling the slight buzz and that euphoric feeling as your inhibition leaves you bit by bit as well as giving up some sense of control. Sometimes he wishes he could do that as well. But he can’t. He can’t let go like that. Can’t let himself be unguarded, vulnerable in that way. Not when there was a time when his body and mind weren’t his anymore.

His hand balls up into a fist under the table, slight frustration bubbling up inside of him at the fact that he’s still so affected by the smallest change in Mike’s behavior. He wants to be indifferent. Wants to get to a point where he can say that Mike was his best friend without tensing up. Where seeing him doesn’t fill him with dread and unease. Where he can simply look back at their shared time with fond nostalgia. But that feeling is currently still buried under a thick layer of anger, hurt and the tiniest bit of resentment.

Finally able to avert his eyes from the other as he snaps back out of his thoughts, Will tries to find his footing in the conversation again.

"And then he fully face-planted in the middle of the cafeteria." Max says, not able to hold her laughter back, while Dustin’s eyes widen comically, gently hitting her arm in disbelief. Lucas simply groans, burying his head in his hands when the table erupts into laughter at his expense. Will is surprised when his laugh and the accompanying smile come naturally to him.

He can do this.

—— —— ——

Being the only sober one has zero advantages, Will concludes. Only disadvantages.

He settles behind the wheel when all of his friends stumble into his car, laughing and bickering loudly with no sense of coordination. Once they’d all realized that Will was both sober and had gotten here by car, their inebriated grins had widened as they mischievously pleaded him to drive them home. Will had rolled his eyes fondly at them, pretending to contemplate leaving them behind to find their own way home. But who is he kidding? These are his closest friends. He’d gone to the end of the world with and for them. So driving them home seems like the easiest thing in the world. Much to Will’s dismay, they’d shoved Mike into the passenger seat since he was clearly the drunkest out of them all. Not to a concerning degree, but his steps were the least confident and most wobbly out of the entire group.

Will waits a moment before the rumbling in the back of his car comes to a stop. He turns his head around, looking at the grinning faces of Max, Lucas and Dustin to make sure they had their seatbelt on. Instinct and muscle memory take over when he also checks Mike’s who is staring hazily out of the window. Will sighs.

"Mike?" Will’s voice wavers slightly, the name feeling both familiar as well as foreign on his tongue. It takes a second before Mike realizes that he’s been addressed. He slowly pans his head over in Will’s direction, a content but subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Seatbelt?" Will says, raising his eyebrows at Mike, trying to just get this over with as quickly as possible. It once again takes Mike a moment before he gets into motion and starts clumsily fiddling with the seatbelt. When Will watches him struggle to get the latch plate into the buckle for a good fifteen seconds, he moves without thinking about it. He grabs the seatbelt from Mike’s hand, a jolt of electricity coursing through his body when their hands touch, and clicks it into the buckle with a precise motion. Will makes the mistake of looking at Mike instead of turning back to his own seat. The other looks at him, cheeks tinged a light pink, surely the alcohol’s fault, before he exhales a hushed thanks and trains his gaze back out of the window on his side.

Will averts his eyes shortly after when he realizes that the chatter in the backseats has died down and he feels their eyes on him. He clears his throat and starts the ignition of the car. "Everybody ready?"

He’s met with a jumble of different versions of confirmation from the back row. Will grips the stick shift, brings it into position and gently presses down on the gas pedal, bringing the car into motion.

The car ride is filled with lively chatter in the back of his car. Every now and then, he glances into the rearview mirror and smiles to himself when he sees the genuine happiness on his friends’ faces. Mike, on the other hand, is unusually quiet. He used to be the loudest one out of all of them, not being able to shut up for a single second, even if his life depended on it. But maybe he had changed. Will wouldn’t know.

Dustin’s house is the first stop on their drive. They hug to the best of their ability, confined by their seats, but not letting that stop them from trying. Just a few seconds later, Dustin stumbles out of the car, waving wildly at them as he walks up his driveway. Will can’t help but chuckle at the visual before he brings the car into motion again. It’s not long after that he finds himself coming to a stop in front of Lucas’ house. There are more hugs and goodbyes as Lucas and Max get ready to exit the car. Silence fills the space when the door closes after them as he’s left alone with Mike in the car, watching them both walk towards the front door. Mike’s house is not even a one-minute walk from here, but he’s not sure if Mike is aware of that since he’s not making any move to get out of the car. Will contemplates for a moment if he should tell the other to walk the rest of the way. He feels kind of guilty for wanting to do it. For wanting Mike to be out of his car as soon as possible so that he can get back to his mom’s place and turn in for the night before getting back to his life on Sunday. A life without Mike Wheeler in it.

Will had known that he and Mike would be the last ones in the car as soon as his friends had asked him to be their ride. It’s not the first time he’s driven all of his friends to their houses so he knows the route. So he’s dreaded this moment since they asked. And it was just as uncomfortable as he’d imagined it to be. He hasn’t been alone with Mike in about four years. It’s a weird feeling to be with him without having their friends as a buffer. He looks over at the boy in his passenger seat, Mike’s eyes resolutely trained on his lap. There’s a certain defeat to his posture that tugs at Will’s heartstrings, no matter how much he tries to not let it happen. Will closes his eyes for a second, desperately in need of an epiphany about what to do. Without actively making the decision, his body moving on its own, Will brings the car into motion once again. The short few-feet drive to Mike’s house feels both like an eternity as well as a blink in time.

The car comes to a stop and Will thinks he might get sick from nerves and unease. Without thinking about it, Will turns off the ignition of the car, a stark silence now falling over them. Will stares out the windshield, hoping desperately that Mike takes initiative and says something. Because he really has no idea what to say. Either to relieve the tension or to make Mike get out of the car. There are no sounds except for their hushed breaths filling the air as the tension builds. When Will finally musters up enough courage to look at Mike, still unsure of what to say, he finds himself surprised to see that Mike’s gaze is already locked on him. The tension tenfolds now that they’re looking at each other. Will is about to start rambling, if only to relieve some of the tension and stumble towards the goal of getting Mike out of his car, when he actually takes in Mike’s facial expression. Mike looks unsure, insecure even. Eyes slightly unfocused with that lost puppy look that he had already perfected as a child. He looks like the Mike he knew back then. Back when they were still children. Right in this moment, there’s an honesty and vulnerability to his aura that disarms Will on the spot, shutting him up before he even gets the chance to open his mouth.

With his eyes fixed on Mike, stunned into having to regroup his thoughts, he sees Mike carefully open his mouth as if he wants to say something. But just as quickly as he’d done that, he closes it again, averting his gaze from Will’s eyes, slightly off to the side. And Will waits. Waits for Mike to find the courage to speak again. The courage he doesn’t currently have. It’s at least another thirty seconds of Will staring somewhat uncomfortably at Mike before the other finds his eyes again.

"Do you wanna come inside?" Mike’s voice is nothing more than a hushed whisper that Will could’ve missed if he weren’t solely focused on any and every move of his right now. It feels like all the air is getting sucked out of the car after the words have left Mike’s mouth, leaving Will with the unprecedented need to suck in a harsh breath that he just barely manages to suppress. But it doesn’t stop his eyes from doubling in size as he stares at Mike who had just caught him completely off guard. Will doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t know what to respond to that at all.

Being alone with Mike Wheeler for longer than necessary seemed like a nightmare to him nowadays, when back in the day, their parents had to pry them apart as they’d spent every possible waking moment together. Despite his stomach twisting with unease, there’s that tiny part of him, the one he’s been, not successfully, trying to bury for the last four years, that wants to say yes. That wants to walk up the familiar driveway and get into the house that basically was a second home at some point. Will doesn’t let his thoughts wander enough to admit to himself that he misses being over at the Wheelers’ house. He looks at Mike, whose eyes are hazily searching his own for an answer that he doesn’t have yet.

He should say no. Should tell Mike that he needs to get home for whatever reason. Any reason that would get him out of this situation. Out of the grip that the other boy has had on him for what feels like his entire life, no matter how hard he tries to shake it. He should say no. He really should.

Will opens his mouth, and by the look on Mike’s face, the other can tell that Will is about to turn him down. Before he has the chance to do so, Mike beats him to it.

"Please." It’s even softer than the request itself from just moments before. Will closes his mouth, shut up by the sheer emotional gravity that Mike is lacing his voice with. He closes his eyes, breathes in deeply before resigning himself to his fate. He’s never been able to say no to Mike Wheeler. Not back then and seemingly not now. It seems that some things never change. No matter how much one wishes they were different.

"Okay."

—— —— ——

Will walks a few feet behind Mike, watching him sway slightly as he makes his way to the front door, already fidgeting with his keychain. It takes him longer than he’d like to unlock the door, that much being obvious from the frustrated sigh he lets out. "Sorry." Mike mumbles quietly, right before he manages to turn the key around, the sound of the lock clicking open filling the quiet atmosphere of the nighttime.

Stumbling in, Mike holds open the door for Will, who can’t help but feel a slight heat rush into his cheeks at the gesture. He walks in and takes his shoes off like it’s second nature. Mike does the same, holding himself up by the handle of the now closed door as a precaution.

"Basement?" He asks, meeting Will’s eyes for a fleeting moment, moving towards the door like he already knows Will’s answer.

"Sure." Will replies tentatively, still feeling slightly put off by the whole situation, unsure of what this is about and why Mike wanted him here. When he hears the creak of the wooden stairs with Mike’s first step, nostalgia washes over him in an instant. Breathing suddenly gets a bit harder when the basement fully comes into view. They had spent countless hours down here, making memory after memory. Movie nights. D&D campaigns. Sleepovers. Party meetings. The time this had become Jonathan’s and his room.

He’s surprised to see that barely anything has changed. The furniture is still the same as it was four years ago and there’s a D&D setup on the table, surely courtesy of Holly and her friends. Most of all, he’s surprised by the paintings adorning the walls. They’re his paintings. From years and years ago. The fact that they’re still up, that Mike hadn’t taken them down, makes a lump form in his throat.

"Sorry for the mess. I haven’t been down here in a while." Mike mumbles absentmindedly as he approaches the couch.

Right.

Mike doesn't live here anymore. For some reason, he’s never been able to picture Mike not living here. This house, specifically this basement, is just so tied to Mike in Will’s head that he has a hard time imagining those two things separately, like they’re not inextricably tied together.

Will feels himself drawn to the paintings and walks over without even consciously thinking about it. He lifts one hand and lets his finger trace the lines on the paper. It’s depicting Lucas, Dustin, Mike, and him as their D&D characters, fighting off a goblin. The painting is at least ten years old, making him realize just how much his skills have developed since then. It’s not a bad painting by any means; in fact, Will feels a surge of fondness for his younger self as he inspects it. The version of him that didn’t worry about anything except how they were going to win the next campaign. The longer he looks at it, the more he notices the parallels to the picture he’d drawn for Mike in Lenora. He shudders as he thinks back to it. How he’d betrayed himself and his feelings to uplift Mike in a moment he needed it the most. Will loves that painting but it will forever be tainted by the fact that Mike thinks it’s from El. And he isn’t cruel enough to take that from Mike. To tell him the truth about it. Not after everything that happened.

Turning around, Will watches Mike stand in front of the couch, his eyes on Will with a look of understanding.

"Why’d you want me to come in?" Will hears himself say, surprising himself with how steady he sounds. Mike is quiet for a long moment.

"I don’t know." His voice is hushed, less lively than it normally sounds. Resigned to a place where it sounds like he’s struggling to even get the words to come out. Mike’s staring at the floor now, picking at the skin of his nail beds in a nervous fashion.

"You don’t know?" Will asks with raised eyebrows, sounding unfazed with the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. It takes a while before Mike looks up to him again and even longer before he starts speaking.

"I thought it might be nice." Mike says carefully, like he’s trying the words out for the first time, unsure if they’re the right ones. And he sounds so sincere. Will hates it. A humorless chuckle escapes him.

"Nice?" He responds, disbelief and irritation becoming more audible. Will’s surprised that Mike doesn’t flinch away or get put off by his tone, instead continuing in that same vulnerable and honest way.

"Yeah," It’s nothing more than an exhale. Will is not sure when the last time that he’s seen Mike this unguarded and exposed. For some reason, it makes him even angrier, hearing his voice this soft and sweet after he’s ignored him for nearly four years. "To talk," Another pause. "or catch up maybe." Will snaps.

"Are you serious?" He asks, voice raised and laced with rage that’s bubbling up from deep inside him as he takes a step closer to Mike. Will can’t help but snort, fully baffled by the other’s sudden sincerity after years of radio silence. Mike stares at the floor, his posture now visibly tenser than before. But he doesn’t respond. "You’re a few years too late for that." Will adds bitterly. Will from nearly four years ago would’ve given everything to hear those words come from Mike’s mouth. Even Will from three years ago. Hell, Will from two years ago would’ve also come running if Mike had looked at him like that and spoken like this. But this Will doesn’t feel that way anymore. Any kind of positivity he felt towards Mike is currently overshadowed by hurt and anger at the other’s audacity.

"Will, I’m-" Mike starts, voice wavering and soft, making him sound so much younger and smaller. However, Will is not done.

"No, Mike. You invite me into your house and want to catch up like nothing happened? Like you didn’t ignore all of my attempts to stay in contact with you?" Will feels himself losing control. Like he’s in some parallel universe that’s playing a cruel joke on him. His pulse is racing and he has the sudden urge to break something. He rubs harshly at his temples, trying his best to ground himself.

"Will, please let me-" The other attempts once again to get a word in and explain himself. But Will is not in a generous mood.

"You have some fucking nerve, Wheeler." He spits the words out like they could physically hurt Mike. Without giving him the chance to respond, Will turns around and stomps toward the stairs. "Goodbye, Mike." His voice is cold and devoid of any emotion. Will doesn’t look back as he starts climbing the stairs, his only focus being to get out of there as fast as possible.

"WILL!" Mike yells, panic audible in his voice, stopping Will just short of the basement door. He turns around and glares at Mike.

"WHAT?" Will yells back, standing his ground without getting any closer. He prays that none of Mike’s family has woken up from their yelling, that would make this infinitely worse.

"I’m sorry." Mike sputters out quickly, defeated and exhausted.

"And? What do you want me to do with that? What’s that gonna change?” Despite him knowing that Mike is actually trying right now, earnestly apologizing, Will is not sure if their friendship is salvageable. If there’s anything the other can say to make this better. To make up for his past behavior.

"I-" Mike tries again, but doesn’t even get a second word out before Will interrupts him once more.

"You think a lousy apology is gonna make up for you cutting me out of your life without any explanation?" Will knows he’s being cruel and unreasonable, but he can’t help it. The dam of years of repressed anger and hurt finally broke, and he’s not sure he knows how to stop. How to not keep lashing out at Mike. It’s quiet for a while after that, Mike seemingly waiting to see if Will will throw any other words his way. Just when he’s about to turn around again and leave, Mike continues.

"Can you please let me say something?" The other pleads quietly, voice shaky as he stares at the ground. Will can see the shame oozing from him and some twisted part of him enjoys seeing Mike this small and defeated. If only for all the pain Will had to go through. But the bigger part of him feels cracked open by seeing his former best friend so unbelievably desperate and vulnerable in his need to make Will listen.

"I don’t know if I wanna hear what you have to say." Will says neutrally, no longer making any moves to leave right this second, which, judging by his expression, seems to give Mike some kind of hope.

"That’s fair. I get it." Mike sits down on the couch, head in his hands before running them through his hair, leaving it even more of a mess than before. His voice is resigned, like he’s accepted that Will won’t give him a chance to explain himself. Will thinks he should be happy that Mike is finally accepting his refusal to let him say his piece but instead it makes him feel worse. Like on one hand, he wants Mike to keep begging and pleading, and on the other, he wants to run and not ever come back. Mike gives it one last try. "I know I don’t deserve it, but please hear me out anyway."

Will stares at him, thinking. Staying or leaving? He knows that this is it. If he leaves now, it’ll be the end. The end of their friendship. Or rather what’s left of it. Mike won’t ever try to approach him openly like this again, he knows that. So he needs to decide if he’s ready to give up on this friendship or if he can find it in himself to at least give Mike the chance to explain himself and apologize. He thinks back to the pain the other boy has caused him, especially in recent years. It makes him want to turn around and leave for good. But he also thinks of their hushed voices under the covers of Mike’s bed, the gleeful screams and hugs after a successful campaign, and the look on his face after Will had been saved from the Upside Down and they’d been reunited. In the end, it isn’t that hard of a decision.

"Go on then. Before I change my mind." Will says, voice still harsh as he walks back down the stairs, consciously not sitting down in case he changes his mind. Mike visibly and audibly exhales in relief, his eyes widening, like he can’t fully believe it.

"Thank you." It’s the first time Will hears a tint of hopefulness in his voice after he started lashing out at Mike. "Will you sit with me?" He instinctively feels himself crumble under Mike’s soft request, which ultimately just puts him more on edge, trying actively to resist falling back into his old pattern of not being able to say no to Mike.

"No." Will says simply, no room for discussion. He needs to keep some sort of distance to get through this, to even stay and hear him out.

"Okay." Mike shortly stares at the empty spot next to himself on the couch before he folds his hands in his lap and looks back onto the ground, seemingly thinking about what to say.

On the other end of the room, Will stands in front of the stairs, posture tense and nervous. So nervous to hear what Mike has to say. To hear if there’s a good explanation for his behavior or if whatever he says will only make Will resent him more. Time seems to move at a torturously slow pace as he waits for Mike to say something.

"Before I start, I just wanna say again that I’m sorry." Mike begins shakily, voice still directed at the floor. Will is not sure if he wants Mike to look into his eyes or if he prefers it this way. His words are wobbly, and Will wonders if it’s because of the emotion behind them, the slight buzz from the alcohol, or both. "I know that what I did was cruel. And so fucking hypocritical considering what we’d promised after graduating. So no matter what, I just want you to know how truly sorry I am for what I did. I know that I fucked up."

Will hates that he already feels himself soften at the edges, Mike’s words hitting him harder than he wants them to. He’d lain awake during sleepless nights, imagining this moment countless times. The moment when Mike would apologize and take accountability. How they’d fall into each other’s arms and reconcile. How they’d be okay again. Become close again like they used to be when they were kids. Carefree and unburdened by the past. So it’s nice to hear him finally say those words. But despite the empathy bubbling up within him, the words don’t have the effect he’d imagined when he played all this through in his head. They don’t change anything about the situation. They don’t make him want to run up to Mike, hug him and not let go again. Will leans against the wall next to the stairs, head gently thumping against it as he looks at the ceiling.

"I felt so lost." Will hears the words and immediately squeezes his eyes tightly shut. He knows that tone. He knows that if he were to look at Mike right now, there’d be a tear running down his cheek, sneaking around the freckles that accentuate his face. And he can’t do that. Because no matter how much time passes, seeing Mike cry is not something that Will is ever going to be able to stomach. So he resolutely keeps his eyes shut and aimed at the ceiling. He needs to hear what Mike has to say, and he can’t do that if Will is too preoccupied with the fact that Mike is crying. He breathes deeply, in and out, focusing on the other’s words themselves instead of how they sound. "When we graduated, nothing had been how I imagined it. Our lives weren’t supposed to be this way. We weren’t supposed to have to go through so much shit. All of us. But especially you."

Despite keeping his eyes squeezed shut, Will feels the tears flow. Rivulets silently make their way down his face. He does his best to not sniffle, not make any sound that indicates his emotional turmoil. He’s not sure if Mike sees him crying. But as long as he keeps his eyes closed, he can imagine that he doesn’t. That Mike is so wrapped up in his monologue that he doesn’t notice that Will is slowly coming apart at the seams. At Mike’s words. He’s never let himself indulge in grieving the childhood they were supposed to have. Never let those thoughts and words swirl around in his head because he knew that once he did that, he’d break.

"Those eighteen months after it ended, after-" Mike abruptly breaks the sentence off with something akin to a sniff that he’s trying to hide. Will can guess where that sentence was headed without needing to actually hear it. "It was such a blur. I didn’t feel like myself. And then I was suddenly supposed to go out into the world and be this fully fledged person who has it all under control. But I didn’t feel like that at all. I was a wreck. I isolated myself because I was so overwhelmed."

With every word that comes from Mike, Will feels his resolve crumble. Because he gets it. He knows exactly what feeling Mike is describing. He felt it too. And rationally, he knew that Mike must’ve been feeling it too. But it still didn’t make sense to him why Mike had cut him off. In that time specifically, with all the change that was happening, he had needed his friends more than ever. For support. The only people on this earth who could in some way relate to what he had been through. He doesn’t understand how Mike hadn’t needed him when Will had needed him so much.

"And I was still grieving her-" Mike starts again, and suddenly Will’s head snaps down, vision doubling over, and he only sees red, his tears stopping immediately. If Mike is really insinuating that he didn’t stay in contact with Will because he was too busy grieving El, he’s going to break something. Possibly Mike Wheeler. Because that’s bullshit and a vile excuse considering he kept in contact with the rest of the party. Will lets out a humorless and disbelieving huff.

"Mike, cut the crap." Will snaps and doesn’t let Mike finish his sentence. His tone is ice cold and bitter as he glares at the other boy across the room, all of the goodwill that he had built up throughout this conversation gone again. Mike’s eyes go wide, looking up from the floor, tears still rolling down his cheeks, flinching at Will’s sudden outburst. "We were all grieving her. She was my sister. You think I wasn’t grieving?" His voice becomes louder and louder with each step he takes towards Mike. He stops halfway into the room, not wanting to get any closer.

"No, that’s not what I’m saying-" Mike hurries to clarify, eyes wide in fear that he screwed up again, but Will doesn’t let him finish.

"Then what are you saying?"

"She was my girlfriend which made it-" The words have barely left his mouth and Will can already see that he flinches in regret and anticipation of having said them. But it’s too late. Will loses it.

"Oh, are we still pretending that you were actually in love with her?"

Silence.

He means for the words to sting. It’s a low blow, and Will knows it. But after years and years he couldn’t hold himself back from finally saying it. From finally saying out loud what he’s thought of their relationship. He feels a twinge of guilt at having put it this bluntly, having thrown it at Mike in the middle of an argument, but he just couldn’t help it. Mike stares at him, a look of confusion and bewilderment on his face as he processes the words.

"What’s that supposed to mean?" Mike asks with a mixture of hurt, confusion, and anger, the both of them holding prolonged eye contact for the first time during this entire conversation.

"Come on Mike, you can’t tell me that you were in love with her with the way you were acting." Will is daring him to refute the statement. To lie again and say that he did love her like that. Maybe it’s petty of him to go there, make this a part of the conversation. But he doesn’t care. He’s channeling all the frustration he felt whenever he had to encourage Mike to show affection to El. To say the things she needed to hear. To make her feel loved. Because he certainly hadn’t been able to do it on his own. All the while, Mike was blind to what it did to Will. Metaphorically, as well as actually having to hold his hand just so he could work things out with his girlfriend.

"Will-" The other boy is stunned into silence, sentence breaking off after a wobbly exhale of his name, directing his gaze back to the floor. Will though, only stares at him, waiting for him to defy him or break. He doesn’t know which one he prefers. Because deep down, he hates the idea of both of them.

"I don’t care that you’re trying to sell me this lie, but for the love of god, at least stop lying to yourself. It’s embarrassing." And while it’s the truth, he feels guilty for how condescending he sounds. Like he’s kicking a puppy that’s already down.

Mike says nothing. He just sits there, fidgeting once again with the skin at his nail beds, silent tears rolling down his face. Will hates himself for making Mike feel this way. For being the reason for his tears. No matter what’s happened between them, this still rips him apart. But he knows that he can’t stop. If he lets up now, comforts him and leaves afterward, nothing will change. This conversation, the pain, it will have been for nothing. He has to keep going if they want to find a way to resolve this and maybe have another chance at friendship.

"What was the reason, Mike? Why did you push me away like that when you had no problem staying in contact with the rest of the party?" The anger and bitterness have faded from his voice, and a stern and determined tone in its place. But it doesn’t help cover the exhaustion in his voice.

It’s quiet, the only sounds in the room being Will’s breathing and Mike’s soft sniffles. Will waits for him to say something, anything. But nothing comes. Mike’s eyes are resolutely trained to the same spot on the carpet.

"Mike?" Will prods again, not quite gently but still softer than before. He feels the tension once again building within himself when Mike continues to ignore him. He raises his voice, frustration audible when he repeats himself. "Mike?" Will doesn’t expect him to snap.

"I WAS SCARED, OKAY? FUCKING TERRIFIED." Mike unexpectedly yells in frustration, a broken sob ripping through his words. Will can see in his eyes that he regrets it the moment the words have left his mouth. That he’s revealed something he hadn’t planned to. Something he had tried holding back because he knew Will would latch onto it and not let up. Mike gives up on trying to muffle his sniffles when they turn into actual heaving and sobs. He curses under his breath, head frantically buried in his hand as he wipes at his own tears. "Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

It’s the first time today that he knows for certain that Mike is being honest with him. Which is why he believes him. The frustration leaves his body in an instant, instead replaced by genuine empathy for Mike that he hasn’t felt in so long.

"Of what?" Will’s words are softer than anything else he’s spoken tonight.

"Please don’t." He sounds defeated. Like saying whatever it is out loud might break him in a way that can’t be repaired again. Like it’ll change whatever comes next irrevocably. Will feels the cracks in his heart as he listens to Mike’s plea to let him off the hook. To not make him explain himself. Every new push cracks him open more.

"No. I deserve to know." Will says even though it pains him to do this to Mike. To force him into explaining something that so clearly causes him great grief. "Please, Mike." He feels his own emotions bubble up, voice wavering more with every time he addresses the other. His voice cracks traitorously the last time he calls out for him. "Mike."

"I WAS SCARED OF US! SCARED OF YOU AND ME AND WHAT WAS HAPPENING TO US." Mike’s words, intertwined with silent streams of tears, tumble out of him with an avalanche of emotions that Will hadn’t been prepared for. He breaks as he watches Mike break in front of him. Hearing Mike say that about them, about their friendship, rips him open in a way that he hasn’t experienced before. It’s an ache so deep inside him that he feels it radiate through his entire being. He instinctively reaches his hand forward, in Mike’s direction, to comfort him like he used to do when the other was crying. But he can’t bring himself to take those last few steps to touch him. Will retracts his hand and runs it messily through his own hair.

Time feels suspended for a moment, both of them reeling with emotion and the fear of what was to come. Will sits down on the second couch, diagonally across from where Mike is sitting. He lets out an exhausted, shaky breath before he trusts himself enough to speak again.

"Why?" The word is hushed, carrying a sad undertone as he tries to understand why Mike had felt that way. More importantly, how it had led to this. Mike’s next inhale is shaky, like he’s preparing himself for a fight he can only lose.

"Because I didn’t know how to feel or act." All of the tension is gone from Mike’s voice. It’s like his body couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t keep defending him and putting walls up to protect him. Protect him from having to say this. And now that he’s started, the words just seem to flow out of him. He sounds so exhausted and defeated. Will’s not sure he can take it. "You basically told me that you had a crush on me and my entire world spun off its axis."

Will sucks in a sharp breath. It’s not like he wasn’t expecting this to be a part of the reason. It would’ve been foolish to think that him confessing his feelings to Mike wouldn’t change their dynamic in any way. Or that Mike wouldn’t feel a certain way about. He knew that. With wide eyes, Will stares at Mike, hanging onto his every word. It’s like every sentence of Mike is another puzzle piece that’ll help him solve what went wrong after they graduated.

"I was analyzing and trying to recontextualize all of our interactions up until that point because I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t understand how your actions could be interpreted as anything more than platonic. Because I told myself that I acted the same way with you, but that it was obviously platonic on my end. But how can we act the same with each other and seemingly feel so different about one another?" It seems like Mike is right back in that emotion, transported back to around five years ago. The confusion, frustration, and pain that he’s describing, seeping back into his voice. Will can’t even blink, holding his breath and completely unmoving, fearing that any movement would shatter the moment. If this is going where he thinks it’ll go, somewhere he’d only ever let himself wander to once before, he’s not sure he’s going to survive this conversation. He won’t make it out.

"And then I started panicking because what if what I was feeling for you wasn’t platonic and I just hadn’t realized it because I thought that’s just how best friends are with each other? I never had a best friend before you, so I had nothing to compare it to." Will inhales sharply once again after he feels every last ounce of air leave his body, vision blurring as he tries his best to stay upright. Mike’s voice is lined by sniffles once again, but Will has a hard time taking anything in, his ears ringing.

"And then, then El-" He’s stopped by a sob that forces its way out of his throat. It takes him a moment to compose himself and continue. "She died. And I was so wrapped up in my grief that I just pushed all of those thoughts away, locking them away so I didn’t have to deal with them on top of everything else." At this point, Will has given up any fight of holding his tears back. They’re freely falling down into his lap. He couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to. "And then we graduated. You, me, and all the others. Suddenly, I was on my own. Not having you around made me realize how much it hurt. Not being with you. And all those thoughts and possibilities that I had locked away suddenly came back in full force. And I couldn’t face you. Not while I was actively losing my mind about the fact that I might like you." When those last words leave Mike’s mouth, Will’s brain short-circuits. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Will from high school would’ve jumped with unbridled joy after hearing that his crush liked him back. That he felt the same way. Will, in the now, just feels himself crack wide open. His heart breaks for himself and the chance he never got, now that he knows there was an actual possibility. A possibility for him to be happy. With Mike.

"I was so fucking scared. I still am. It terrifies me. So I pushed you away. In the hope that I’d be able to figure it out. Hopefully, to realize that it was all a fluke and that I could just go back to being your best friend. But it didn’t work. That nagging feeling never left me alone. It never went away." Now Will’s tears are for Mike. He knows what it’s like to so desperately wish to be like everyone else. To be normal. To not have these feelings that everybody tells you aren’t right. Will knows those feelings all too well. He’d lain awake night after night, wishing those feelings he had for Mike away. It had never worked. Only with time did he realize that he didn’t need to be like everyone else. That he was okay. Just being himself. That was enough. Mike doesn’t seem to have gotten there yet. Just as his heart breaks for himself, it also breaks for Mike.

"And I was too scared to be around you, to talk to you. Because I didn’t trust myself anymore. I didn’t trust myself not to ruin what we had. So I thought it would be better to just-" Will can hear it in his voice that he’s trying his best to get the words out, no matter how much they might hurt. Hurt him, but also Will. "Not give myself the chance to screw it up like that. But I’m an idiot because only later did I realize that instead of possibly losing you on the basis of my stupid feelings, I had pushed you away. I’d lost you. Again."

Mike sounds and looks like a shell of himself, sitting there on the couch, deep tear tracks all over his face as he stares at that familiar spot on the floor that he’d been fixating on all night. Will doesn’t have any words yet. He’s processing. Thankfully, it doesn’t feel like Mike expects him to say anything right this second, too preoccupied by his own inner turmoil.

He understands Mike and his situation. And he hates that he does. Because it makes him feel like he can’t be mad. It would be evil to hold his inner turmoil against him. Especially when Will had felt it before as well. But he also realizes that just because he can relate and empathize with him, doesn’t take away from the fact that Will was hurt in the process. That Mike’s pain and confusion caused him so much grief. That his actions were shitty, no matter the circumstances. They explain his behavior, but they don’t excuse it. Will feels like his head is going to explode. His next words come out before he knows it.

"You felt the same way but chose to leave me behind anyway? Is that what you’re saying?" Will has never felt so vulnerable. There’s a painful flicker of betrayal and abandonment in his words that he’s not sure even begins to encompass the aching heartbreak he feels in this moment. He knows the answer to the question he’s asked already, Mike’s speech having made it clear without explicitly saying it in those words. But he needs to hear them. Just to have final confirmation.

"Will, I’m sorry, I-." Will closes his eyes, a shudder coursing through his entire body as he tries to hold his emotions at bay as best as he can. He can’t have a breakdown in Mike’s basement. Mike stops in his tracks when Will holds up his hand, signaling the other boy to halt.

The silence is deafening.

"Is there anything I can say or do to make you forgive me?" Mike’s voice is small and broken, seemingly resigned to his fate of Will not forgiving him and having screwed up their friendship for good. It’s also pleading, like he’d do anything to salvage whatever is left of their connection.

"No." Will starts and this time it’s Mike who takes a sharp inhale. The word tastes wrong on his tongue immediately. "Yes." He shakes his head. It still feels wrong. "I don’t- I don’t know, Mike." It’s the only honest answer he can give him. He feels utterly exhausted, like he’s been emotionally waterboarded. He can’t discern left from right and up from down anymore. He most certainly can’t make a decision like this in his current state. The only thing he knows for sure is that he can’t be here any longer. "I need to go."

It’s only a second later that Will gets off the couch and makes his way over to the basement stairs without saying another word. He needs to think.

"Will, please don’t." There’s a frantic panic in Mike’s voice as he seemingly scrambles up from the couch behind Will.

"Mike." He turns around on the top of the stairs, right in front of the door, his cracked voice stopping the other in his tracks at the bottom of them. Will sees the fight leave his eyes in the exact moment he realizes that there’s nothing he can say to make Will stay. Grabbing the doorknob, Will pushes forward and his body aches at the idea of leaving. But it aches even more at the idea of staying. He steps out into the hallway, and right before he closes the door behind him, he hears a whispered and broken exhale of his name.

He gives himself a few seconds, leaning his head against the door, trying to breathe the tears away that had just now formed and were threatening to spill. Then he leaves, closing the front door of the Wheeler house behind him for maybe the last time.

—— —— ——

Will lets himself fall onto the bed in the guest room of his mom’s and Hopper’s house. Without bothering to take his clothes off, he curls into a fetal position, exhaustion washing over him once again this night. He’s not sure how he even made it back from Mike’s house. It’s all a blur. The alarm clock in the periphery of his vision catches his attention.

01:47 AM

Will cries himself to sleep.

—— —— ——

It’s Sunday morning, two days after their party’s get-together, when Will stows his bag into the trunk of his car, ready to get back to his life and out of this town with all its demons that still haunt him to this day. There’s an extra bag of different foods on the back seat that his mother had prepared for him, worried like always that he wasn’t eating enough. He thinks that he doesn’t tell her often enough how much he loves and appreciates her.

The day before had been difficult. His mother’s instincts never being wrong, she’d come barging in that morning like she’d known that something had happened the night before. Will would’ve denied it, assuring her that everything was okay, but he wasn’t an idiot. The puffy and red eyes, as well as dried tear tracks, would’ve made any attempt at an excuse futile. His mother had wanted to press him on it, he could see it on her face, but miraculously and to his relief, she hadn’t. Maybe he’d looked too distraught to even try. But she offered her support nonetheless, in the form of a concerned look and a whispered I’m here if you need me. It’s all he could’ve asked for.

He’d spent the entire day inside, thankful that he had at least brought a sketchbook and a few pencils with him. Having a creative outlet always helped him to make sense of his feelings. To get them out of his head and onto the paper. There’d been that quiet nagging thought in the back of his mind that wondered if Mike would show up and try to talk to him again. He isn’t sure if he would have agreed to it. But he had wondered anyway. Though in the end, he hadn’t shown up.

Going through the mental list of his belongings, he concludes that he’s packed and ready. Ready to leave. To throw himself back into college, his assignments, his routine. Back to his normal. He walks around the car, giving his mom and Hopper one last hug. His mother holds onto him like she’s considering to not let him go. It’s like this every time he’s here. He feels her tears stain the fabric of his t-shirt before she presses a kiss to his cheek.

"Drive safely. And call me when you get back to your dorm." She calls after him when he opens the door of his car and slides into the driver’s seat. Will turns the key around, the ignition thrumming to life.

"Yes, Mom. I will." He says after rolling down the window. Looking over his shoulder, he waves at them as he maneuvers the car out of the driveway. They wave back at him, arm in arm, before retreating back into the house when he rounds the corner and disappears down the street. He takes a deep breath, gripping the steering wheel comfortably with both hands as he drives through the suburb.

Focused on the radio that’s currently playing one of his favorite songs, Will casually checks the rearview mirror. He shakes his head slightly and squints when he sees someone running in his direction in the distance. He can’t make out who it is, so he slows down. Unsure if that person is actually after him or if they’re just running on the street for some other reason. As he slows down and the person closes in on him more and more, he can begin to make out some of their features. Then suddenly it couldn’t be clearer. He lets out a huff in surprise.

It’s Mike.

Will isn’t sure he’s ever seen Mike run this fast in his life. Well, except for the multiple occasions where they’d been chased be supernatural creatures. But those times don’t count. His car comes to a slow stop at the side of the street, watching Mike get closer and closer in the rearview mirror. His heartbeat picks up more and more the closer he gets, not fully prepared for this interaction considering where they’d left off the last time they’ve seen each other. Despite having more than twenty-four hours to think it through, he still hasn’t made any progress with the chaos that are his feelings concerning one Mike Wheeler. There’s a fleeting moment where he considers pressing the gas pedal hard. To drive off as quickly as possible and avoid Mike altogether. But that thought is quickly replaced with curiosity as to what made Mike chase after him like this. He only gets a few seconds to prepare before Mike appears at his still rolled down window, panting like he might collapse any second.

"Mike?" Will looks at him, unable to form any actual sentences, hoping that the other understands the sentiment.

"One moment." He clears his throat, still gasping for air as he holds himself up on the hood of Will’s car. For a minute, the only sound filling the silence between them is Mike’s labored breathing.

"How’d you even know I was leaving now?" Will asks without thinking, the thought just popping into his head, when he realizes that Mike showing up here at this exact time seems a bit too suspicious to be coincidental.

"You said it at the bar." He responds, still catching his breath. "That you’d leave around this time. I thought I’d missed you when I didn’t see your car in the driveway." Will just blinks at him, still not quite sure what’s happening. Mike seems to clue onto his confusion. "Right, right. Why I’m here."

"Yeah?." Will asks when Mike takes a moment too long for his liking to come up with the words he’s seemingly looking for.

Mike reaches into the pocket of his jacket. "I don't expect you to forgive me. If you don’t want to see me again after this, I understand." He prefaces somewhat dejectedly. Then, to Will’s surprise, Mike’s hand emerges with a letter from his pocket. He holds it out for Will to take. He can make out the other’s less than stellar, but somehow endearing, handwriting on the envelope.

To Will 

My Sorcerer

"But I wanted you to have this. So that I knew that I tried everything, you know?" Mike stumbles over the words. This time, Will doesn’t immediately hate how sincere and genuine he sounds. Carefully, Will reaches for the envelope, goosebumps spreading across his skin when their hands touch. They lock eyes as he slowly retracts his hand, now with the letter in his hand.

"Thanks." It comes out as nothing more than hushed breath, his eyes flicking down to the piece of paper before landing back on Mike, who nods at him with a sense of resignation.

"Goodbye, Will." His voice is equally quiet as Will’s, eyes shining with unshed tears. The uncertainty of the situation is killing them both. This could be the last time they see each other. The lump in Will’s throat doubles in size and he feels like he’s gonna be sick.

"Goodbye, Mike." It’s all he trusts himself to say in the moment without breaking down. He puts gentle pressure on the gas pedal, about to drive off, when he hears Mike’s voice again.

"I love you." Will closes his eyes to hold back a sudden sob. If he hadn’t seen Mike’s lips form the words, he would’ve been sure that he’d hallucinated the whispered words. The car comes to a stop again after having moved barely more than an inch. Will takes a deep breath, focusing his eyes back on the road. Not on the boy next to him. The boy who had just told him that he loved him. Mike. Mike had told him that he loved him.

Will presses the gas pedal once again, this time not letting off, setting his car into motion after placing the letter on the passenger seat. Mike disappears from his window as he starts driving. After a few moments, he finds himself checking the rearview mirror once again. Mike stands in the same spot, eyes trained on his car as it moves further and further away from him. The first tear slips from Will’s eyes when Mike’s figure in the mirror gets too small to make out any of his details. By the time he rounds a corner and Mike disappears from his vision altogether, the tears flow freely.

—— —— ——

He makes it out of the suburb and all the way to the Leaving Hawkins sign before he stops his car on the side of the road. He’s surprised that he even made it this far. His intention was to actually get back to his dorm. Thinking about that now, it seems utterly laughable. Not when it feels like that letter had been burning a hole in his seat and staring at him tauntingly. He couldn’t take it any longer.

Though now that his car is parked securely off to the side, actually opening the letter suddenly also feels like an impossible task. He stares at it, sitting just a few inches from him, easily within reach. He knows that he won’t be able to get back on the road before he knows what Mike was so desperate to tell him that he chased after him.

If it wasn’t the moment in Mike’s basement that would decide the fate of their friendship, then it was this piece of paper that would do it. Will reaches for the envelope in slow motion, careful, like it might burn him if he touches it. He inspects the other’s handwriting again, stalling, not ready at all to face whatever is on the inside.

Will shouts in frustration when he only stares at the envelope for a full minute without doing anything.

"Fuck."

He opens it and takes out the letter, his hands trembling as he unfolds it. The breath he takes is shaky. Here goes nothing.

Will,

I feel really bad because I’ve realized that I can’t even remember the last time that I’ve written you a letter. Maybe that’s for the better, though. My last letters to you are... not something I’m proud of. They weren’t honest. They had one purpose and that was to push you away. It makes me feel awful. So I thought it was time that I wrote you another letter. A real one this time. An honest one.

I know that I’ve been a selfish idiot for the longest time now. I’ve been so wrapped up in and consumed by my own thoughts, emotions, and fears that there was no space left for anything else. I hadn’t made space for your thoughts, feelings, and fears in our friendship. And that was my biggest mistake. I know that you needed me and that I needed you after we graduated. But I was too focused on having an identity crisis to do us justice. And then I thought that I had no other choice but to distance myself for the sake of our friendship. Now looking back, I realize how stupid and untrue that was. I should’ve just talked to you. Told you what I was feeling. What I was struggling with. I don’t know when we stopped actually telling each other things. When we stopped being us. I don’t want to blame all of this on the shit we’ve been through together, but it certainly left its mark on us. But even then, you’ve always been the one out of the both of us whose worn his heart on his sleeve. I wish I was more like you in that way.

It’s never been easy for me to put my thoughts and feelings into words. They always come out jumbled and not in the way I mean them. But I’m trying. Trying to get better at that. For you. Because you deserve it. And if you don’t want it, then at least for myself. Because I’ve realized by now that I also deserve that. To be honest with myself and make room even for the thoughts and feelings that scare me.

I like girls and boys. I’ve never said that out loud. It feels easier to write it. It’s taken me a long time to accept that even though I’m not sure I’ve actually fully accepted it. I’m trying. I keep thinking back to how brave you were when you told everyone at the radio station. I was and still am so in awe of you. How you’ve overcome every obstacle life has put in your way. That’s one of the reasons why I like you so much. Why I love you.

I love you.

That’s something else that I’ve been trying to accept. I’ve lied to myself for so long, trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real. That I didn’t feel that way about you. But the feeling never went away. When I’m alone in my dorm room at night, under the covers, I try out how the words feel when I say them out loud. It’s scary. But it also feels right. I know that you don’t feel that way about me anymore and that’s okay. Why would you with the way I’ve treated you? But still, I think it’s important for me to say it anyway. If only for the sake of finding acceptance for myself.

The more time that had passed where we didn’t talk, the more our memories started to catch up with me. Everything reminds me of you. Every pencil, painting, and artwork I see. Every song that you loved that I hear on the radio. Every meal I eat that we’ve shared at some point. Just the faintest smell of coconut reminds me of the shampoo you always used back in the day because you knew I liked the smell so much. Every touch of someone else reminds me that they aren’t you. I don’t expect you to forgive me. You have every right to never wanna see me again. But I needed to get this off my chest. To be fully honest with you in case this is my last opportunity. Because you deserve that. Deserve to know that you’re loved. By so many people. Including me. Selfishly, I hope to see you again someday. 

Love, Mike

—— —— ——

Will stares at the letter in his shaking hands, not focused on the tears that keep on trickling down his cheeks, cumulating in a wet patch on his jeans. He finds his way back to reality when the sound of a car driving by rips him from his thoughts. Will lets the letter fall into his lap and grips the steering wheel hard, trying to ground himself as the first sob rips it’s way through his body, when he processes what he’s just read. The words that Mike had chosen with the consideration that they might be the last ones.

It takes him a few minutes before he’s calmed down enough to loosen his death grip on the steering wheel and for his breathing to even out a bit. His mind is all over the place, so many thoughts and feelings swirling around that feel entirely too big for his frail heart and body. At the same time, he knows that he has a decision to make.

Follow the Leaving Hawkins sign and get back to his life. A life that he’s finally gotten used to over the last few years. It’d mean to move on. For good.

Or to turn around. Turn around and face his past. The scary and the unknown. At the chance of being let down and hurt again.

[The View Between Villages] :: Noah Kahan

Will turns the key of his car and once again hears its engine come alive. He presses down the pedal and drives.