Chapter Text
And when the wall collapsed. Like in Lord of the Rings when the eagles arrived. No one thought about it, certainly not him. It had been futile, at best. But he was always too much of an optimist. His worst flaw. He wished he hadn’t lied for so long about it, but he thought he could do it. Optimist!
But lies were futile now. What do you have to lie about when you finally know the truth? He probably knew back then. In the basement with their numerous campaigns, because when the others left first, because they always did, it was only them left. They were alone so often, and, so often, he did not question it. He probably knew like Aragorn knew when he saw Arwen that first time. He had been so young and she so old, but even he knew. He thought it could be like that for him when he first saw her. He wanted it so badly to be like that. But he had lied.
Can you lie when you don’t really know you’re lying? When you’re just malevolently twisting the truth to make it sound real? He wanted it to be real. All the heroes had maidens, princesses, pretty girls. Arwen was the most beautiful woman in Middle Earth and she had married Aragorn. And when he read the story it made sense. He didn’t question it. But then why couldn’t he make the story come true for him? Couldn’t life imitate fiction?
Now he knew magic was real and there was magic in the world. But there was magic in him as well. But it wasn’t quite magic, it didn’t feel like that when he realized it. An enchantment or a curse. A curse but it couldn’t be broken. In the stories, these types of things were broken by a kiss. A kiss. The kiss.
He didn’t feel anything when he first kissed her. It was wet, strange and uncomfortable. So he kept trying. Sure, he couldn’t pass the first level of Pakman the first time he played it, but he got progressively better at it. He could practice and he would be great at it. It could be like a video game or a campaign. Yes, he would practice.
So he strategized, nights and nights, kiss and make out in her room and make it real, make it good. And it was, sometimes, sometimes it was fun, the sensation felt good enough. It was satisfying sometimes and perhaps that was the top score in the game. No prize but satisfaction and that felt right. He was normal, he had conquered, yes. Then, he would reward himself. He would go to the movies with his friends.
That was the reward. He passed the levels, got the top score, and then he would sit next to Will like he was innocent because he was. He played the game and he won and nothing could touch him. He meant nothing if he felt something. Because he was playing and strategizing and he understood, he could defeat this. He couldn’t name it and sometimes it didn’t feel bad. It felt almost natural.
But it wasn’t right. No, it wasn’t. Because everyone said so and people were dying and his father said this thing once that he doesn’t like to think about because it sounds bad when you say it out loud. It was about Will. But what does he know?
Nothing, he hasn’t even read Lord of the Rings. He knows nothing about life. And he felt like he understood life. Life was a game you could strategize and win at. And he had a great strategy. He had a girlfriend. She fell out of the sky and it was perfect and they were great together. Because he had something to protect, something to love. Love felt like such a big word. He couldn’t say it, but he felt he had to.
He had to love her, right? He was Aragorn and she was Arwen, of course. He read it in a book, it has to be true. But it felt strange, weird, wrong. He tried, but it didn’t come out right. And when it did, it still felt like a lie. He loved her, yes, but when he said it out loud, it rang false, hollow. Like the word ‘love’ was hiding a secret he was keeping too well. Kind of like how the power of Sauron was hidden in a little ring. Few knew its power and few knew what he actually loved.
But better not to say it, or think it. Certainly not to Will, who would not understand it, though he always understood everything. Still this secret was his and he couldn’t burden him with it. Because then they would both know. And that would make them complicit. And they couldn’t keep it together away from the Party. That’s not a good strategy. He had been strategizing for a while now. Since when?
She had come back from the dead like a ghost, a miracle or an angel. Regardless, he kept his word. Have her come to the dance with me. We can dance together, that’s what boys and girls do. Let them see.
And that’s why he told Will to dance with the girl. Let them see. They have to see. That’s the whole point of it.
But he couldn’t tell that to Will, he wouldn’t understand it, though he often understood everything. It was easy for him, of course. Girls always liked Will. Nobody liked him. The most popular girl in school cried at his funeral and that girl at the Snowball wanted to dance with him. Will was pretty, he knew, because the girls liked him.
So he didn’t complain, he didn’t pout. He just stared. He had watched them dance, spellbound, unable to look elsewhere. It seemed right yet wrong. Natural yet highly unnatural. He waited for El to distract him. Because it was impossible to stop watching.
And El came and did just that. She looked beautiful because she always was. And then they would see. And they saw. They saw how he kissed her because that’s what he did. He was very good at this.
But Will wasn’t good at it. But he could be, he just didn’t do it. He didn’t understand that whole summer. Why wasn’t he also playing this game? Will wanted to play other games, he kept saying he wanted another campaign. And “Come on, Mike, why don’t you do your campaigns anymore?”
His expression was always disarming. He seemed half-sad, half-hopeful.
“I don’t feel like it,” he shrugged. And “come on, let’s go outside. Lucas and Max are here”. He didn’t want to be stuck in a basement with him anymore. It seemed dangerous. His once joy was now agony.
It had been fun, now it was excruciating. He didn’t know why. He felt it sometimes at the movies. Where Will and him would sit close and maybe their arms would brush. It was strange because he felt he lived for it. Sometimes he felt that was the reward for playing the game. But it was no fair, he was playing and Will was blissfully unaware there was a game going on. He didn’t seem to mind, he never seemed to care. He would just shake his head and shift his eyes to the ground when he cancelled plans. He never complained, so he figured he didn’t care. Well, why would he care?
And that made him angry, almost resentful. He felt he was killing himself in Mordor, walking on the path to Mount Doom and Will lay somewhere in the valleys of the Shire unaware the war for Middle Earth was going on. Why would he care?
He obviously didn't. He was always nice to El. Too nice. Sometimes he wondered if he had a crush on her. But then again he had thought once Will had a crush on Max and that simply hadn’t been true. But it’s not like he would tell him if he did anyway. He had never expressed interest in any girl to him. He never really talked about feelings if he was honest. He just sat next to him, quiet, pensive, and sometimes smiled politely when he caught him staring. Maybe that had always been their entire relationship.
Will was always just there, pensive and unthinking at the same time, not really saying or doing anything. Only moving if he did, only nodding if he did. He didn’t even talk as much as he used to. He had become extremely quiet since he started dating El. He didn’t even notice the correlation until it was right in front of him. He wished he talked to him more but now he seemed more engrossed with Max or Lucas or calling Dustin.
He doesn’t care was the only natural conclusion. And that made him angry. And sometimes he felt so bitter that only he looked forward to their movie hangs. His only source of real contact with Will being to sit in silence with each other. Maybe it had always been like this and he had gaslit himself to think differently. Maybe that’s all it was. Sitting together, being together. And pathetically, that was enough. So enough.
Better than kissing, he sometimes thought. To accidentally brush his hand when they took out the hidden drinks from the bag. To accidentally lean too close. To whisper something funny into his ear and hear him snicker. He liked how his laugh sounded. He always did. In the dark it was better somehow. In the lowlight of the theater, it made sense. He felt dreamy sometimes. It was strange. Like the experience of watching Legend all over again.
They both had loved it. There was a haze in that movie, the same haze he felt between them. An invisible barrier, a mysterious fog, a thin veil that separated them from other people there. It was just them. That’s why he liked being late. They would have to sit apart from Max and Lucas because the seats were always sparse. So they could sit alone together. Alone, together. In a crowded theater, they felt utterly alone. He loved it. It was like being in the basement all over again.
Will seemed happy at times. But sad at others. He fluctuated in mood, he noticed. But when he was there with him, alone with him, he seemed fine. Happy, even. He wanted him to be happy. Happy to be with him.
But that was his stupid optimism again. Wishful thinking. Why would he be happy? He didn’t understand what he was feeling. He didn’t understand how much it meant to him. How much he needed it, how much he needed him.
But he couldn’t tell him any of it. It would scare him off. And he couldn’t lose him. But he shouldn’t say that. He shouldn’t even think it. So he didn’t and it seemed fine. Until El broke up with him. Then he was so confused.
What did he do? How should he get her back? He had to, she was his only shot at normalcy. He had to win the game. What was the strategy now? Lucas knew, Lucas would tell him what to do and he would do it. Lucas knew the game better. And he had to win the game.
But Will didn’t seem to care about any of it. He just wanted to play DnD. He put on this silly wizard costume he hadn’t worn since he was like ten. And he looked so awkward yet so oddly himself. He fit into that alternate world where they had often dreamed and played in. Yet now that was not the game they were playing. And why couldn’t he see it?
He couldn’t go on movie dates with his friend if he didn’t have a girlfriend. What would it look like? What would they say? They would know. Know what he told himself he didn’t know.
It wasn’t fair because Will could do what he wanted. He could play DnD and not get a girlfriend and be normal because he was. But not Mike, no not him. He wasn’t normal so he had to pretend to be it. And it was getting harder and harder, and he couldn’t care less about his stupid campaign. But it wasn’t stupid, it was actually good and somehow that made him angrier.
He couldn’t do any of this anymore. He had a girlfriend. Why didn’t he care?
So maybe he was a little mean. Maybe he joked a little too much. So maybe he just wanted to make Lucas laugh, but maybe, maybe, the honest truth was that he had been angry at Will. And maybe that’s how things escalated. Because Will got mad.
And he never did. Not at him, anyway. No, he had never been angry at him ever.
Annoyed, yes. Maybe they would disagree, Will would shake his head and frown in his own particular way which never looked like a frown to Mike but rather a very soft twist of a smile. Even his expression contained multitudes. He was always trying to decipher what it all meant.
But in that moment, he knew the tone of his voice. Yes, he was upset. Yes, he yelled at him. Will had never yelled at him. There was a horror in that. Did he cross a line? There was a secret pleasure in that. Did he finally make him feel something?
He said he was going home, he had never seen him so angry. That was his fault, of course. He would have to apologize, of course. He always did.
And he did. He did as best he could. But then Will got mean. He’s never been mean before. So maybe he said some things he shouldn’t have. But he got defensive. He’s never been mean to me before.
He’s never been like this before. Panic. Then guilt. Because it felt awful to make Will upset. It felt awful to make him cry. Yet it felt good to feel he could make him cry. That he had that effect on him. That he had feelings, feelings related to him, feelings for–
He had to go say sorry immediately, he knew. Downpour or not. Rain or thunder, fuck it whatever. He told Lucas how shitty they were (he was) and that they (he) had to apologize right now. Lucas groaned, he admitted that yes it was not okay what they (he) did, but biking to the Byers in the middle of a storm was not a smart idea.
“But Will is out there! What if he gets hurt?”
So Lucas shrugged and followed him out. He always did.
But Will was not there. He wouldn’t come out. They found him by Castle Byers, well, what was left of it. And he didn’t ask. He couldn’t ask. Because, well, the thought of asking hurt his heart a little. Something felt wrong and he couldn’t name it.
But Will told him to forget it. There were more important things now. Dangers to deal with. But nothing frightened him more than asking. So he didn’t.
And then he left. Whatever, he doesn’t call anymore. In fact, he hasn’t called at all.