Chapter Text
June 1989
2 years ago, if you had told Mike Wheeler that after defeating Vecna and the Upside Down, he would be more miserable than ever, he probably wouldn’t have believed you. However, as Mike sat silently in his basement, surrounded by mementos of a childhood stolen from him, this was the stark reality.
While his friends had all had a difficult time overcoming the grief and piecing their lives back together after the battle, with time, they all eventually moved on. Dustin had found comfort in Steve and his schoolwork, Max and Lucas had blossomed in their relationship and Will…
Will had slowly slipped away. He seemed… happier. Happier than he had been in a long time. Mike remembers the torture his best friend had to endure for years, constantly haunted by the fateful night that was November 6th, 1983– and yet, he had found a way to piece his life back together again. And Mike was happy for him. Happy that he had been able to move on from the past, from the torment, from the grief. But a part of Mike’s chest ached as he watched Will pull away from him, find peace in a life that seemed to not include Mike.
It’s not like they never spoke anymore. But ever since things went back to “normal” (or as normal as life can be after traveling to another dimension and fighting off a spider monster controlled by a soulless demon), their time together felt different. Being around Will, talking to him, took more thought and effort than it ever did. The defining component of their relationship was that it was always easy– conversations between them always ebbed and flowed with no thought or concern, something Mike always took great appreciation in. There were never any secrets between them, any animosity or tension, just comfort and peace. They had always understood each other on a level that no one else understood. Of course Mike valued and cherished his other friends, but nothing compared to the solace he found in Will. However, as time passed, an unspoken distance plagued their relationship. Subtle at first, but growing with time, Mike felt Will slipping from his grasp, and let it happen. It’s not like Mike wanted to, but Mike couldn’t bring himself to suck Will into the lonely life he had started to build, so he let him fade away. To the life that he deserved. The peace he had earned.
Now, faced with the silence, Mike constantly reminisced on the past. Life before all the tragedy. Life when he and Will were against the world. He longed for that connection again. More than anything.
The year after Will was taken, Mike’s entire life revolved around Will and his happiness. Mike devoted all his time and energy to ensuring Will felt safe again, and Will happily accepted the attention. Once Mike had felt the pain of losing Will, he wanted to make sure that it never happened again. Ever.
Every time Will had a vision or was pulled back into the grasps of the Upside Down, Mike felt an intense burning and alarm in his chest. He panicked, every single time, reliving the worst moment of his life– the vision of Will’s body being pulled from the quarry. A vision that frequented him late at nights and in the darkest parts of his soul, even now. A vision that pushed him to protect Will, to guarantee that it would never happen again. When the Mind Flayer took control of Will, Mike felt like he couldn’t breathe; the farther Will slipped into the Mind Flayer’s grasp, the more Mike felt the overwhelming sense of dread and terror. Mike is still haunted by the nights spent in the Hawkin’s Lab: flashes of Will crying out in agony, the screaming of nurses and soldiers, the snarl of prowling demodogs, the sight of Will limp in Hopper’s arms. He still remembers tearfully trying to break through to Will in the shed behind the Byer’s house, confessing that the best thing he ever did was asking Will to be his friend. He remembers the dread that he had lost Will, again.
He couldn’t explain this intense pull to protect Will at whatever cost. He had always felt the need to be the leader, the protector, for everyone, but with Will, something deeper was called upon. He could not let anything happen to him. For years, he never understood the effect the boy he grew up with had on him. He couldn’t place his finger on why Will was different from everyone else in his life. Why he needed to protect Will.
This confusion intensified the summer of ‘85. He had pushed Will aside, not wanting to unpack what he felt around him. Being around El was easier. He never had to think about things, never had to dig into the feelings that lay beneath the surface. Of course he had cared for her, just as he did his other friends. Of course they had a bond not quite comparable. But it paled in comparison to when he was with Will– and that shook him to his core. He refused to confront the feelings until Will had thrown it in his face.
It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.
The words spilled out of his mouth before he could even process why he had said them. He remembers the intense guilt and anguish he felt afterwards, watching Will’s entire will to fight fall off of his face. He had felt sick to his stomach, tears beginning to burn behind his eyes. He didn’t understand why he had said something so cruel, something that had, truly, nothing to do with Will. When Will stormed off into the rain, the same ache that he had felt 6 months earlier returned, but much more intensely. He raced after him, desperate to apologize. He had hurt Will, the person he cared for the most. After that, he could no longer ignore what he felt around Will. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Just as he began to realize the true feelings he had around Will, he slipped out of his grasp, moving thousands of miles away.
He had lost Will again, and the familiar ache and burning in his chest returned.
Life in Hawkins without Will became desolate. While the rest of the party had still been there, it wasn’t the same. Mike realized that Will had been the glue of the group, and without him, they all fell apart. Max isolated herself, consumed by guilt; Lucas chased normalcy in the popular crowd; Mike still had Dustin, but even Dustin was distracted by Suzie and his friendship with Eddie. Mike was alone. Every time something happened, no matter how mundane, his knee jerk reaction was to tell Will. For the first few months after Will left, Mike instinctively pulled out his walkie or dialed the Byers’ household, only to realize there was no one on the other end. He would ride past their old house, hoping that Will would magically walk out into the front yard, but he never did. He could have written, and he tried to call, but it never felt right. How could he just put all his thoughts down on a stupid piece of paper– it would never capture the depth of what Mike wanted to tell Will. Again, it was easier with El. They sent letters about school and life, never really touching on anything too deep. It was just easier.
But in California, after what felt like a lifetime away from Will, Mike was again faced to confront what he felt for Will. He couldn’t ignore the deep desire in his heart, the twang of need, the longing to have him. Seeing Will again was like crashing his car into a glass window– his entire world stopped and then promptly shattered– and he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t look away from Will’s hazel eyes, his broad shoulders, his strong hands. He couldn’t bear it any longer.
We’re friend, We’re friends.
He did it again. Mike was never good at discerning his feelings, but without Will by his side for so long, he had grown even more confused and irritable. Again came the waves of regret, the realization that he had done something to hurt Will’s feelings. He couldn’t keep doing this– he needed to change something.
He spent the rest of the trip trying to fix things, trying to come to terms with the complicated relationship between him and Will. The fallout of him and El’s relationship gave him time to focus on Will, but Will just kept confusing him. He kept trying to fix Mike and El, telling Mike to be the heart. Mike knew Will was saying these things to help, but it just hurt worse. Every conversation he had with Will, he just wished the words were meant for Mike from him. That Will believed in him, that he needed him, that he always would. When Will had given him the painting and explained how Mike was the leader, the paladin, his heart soared. So Will really felt that he needed him just as much as Mike needed Will? But his hopes were promptly crushed when Will revealed it was from El.
So Mike tried to fix things with El, but it just never really panned out. Sure he had said he loved her, but the words felt empty. He cared for her, obviously, and he felt a connection to her. But love?
As it turns out, El really didn’t seem to need him. Mike was so confused. Will had said she did, but back in Hawkins, they barely ever talked. She had grown increasingly independent and the two lost most contact. Meanwhile, he and Will spent all their time together, even more than they had as kids. Mike couldn’t help but immerse himself into Will’s life, constantly finding time to hang out or to talk or to simply enjoy each other’s presence. They had grown back together, like vines of ivy, and Mike had never felt more fulfilled. He wanted to be around Will all the time.
Slowly, he found himself unable to repress what he felt for Will was something deeper than friendship. Mike himself couldn’t even truly come to terms with it, but he couldn’t pretend anymore. His entire demeanor and attitude changed the second Will was around him– he was softer, sweeter. He felt all his walls collapse and he couldn’t hide the intensity of his feelings. He told Will everything, and Will told him everything too. When they were together, Mike couldn’t help but smile, couldn't stop the warm and bubbly feeling inside him from rising to the surface. Will brought out the strength in him to take charge, to lead, to be the heart Will had convinced him that he was. Even when everything started to go south, he couldn’t help but fall back into Will’s reassurance. When he was with Will, none of the supernatural or deadly troubles against them seemed to matter.
Love. That is what he felt when Will had saved his life. There was no other word for it. If he didn’t know before, he did now. He loved William Byers.
He loved the way that Will could bring him immediate comfort. He loved the way Will protected him, the same way he protected Will. He loved how Will could understand him when no one else could, that he seemed to find the best parts of Mike when Mike didn’t even see it in himself. He loved how Will remained soft and kind even after all the horrible things he dealt with. He loved the way Will immersed himself in his art, the way his green and hazel eyes beamed at Mike, the way light always seemed to follow him, like it knew he was special. He loved that he could admit anything to Will and Will always found a way to make it better, to solve his problems. He loved that Will needed him in the same way he needed Will. He loved everything about him.
He couldn’t contain how he felt anymore.
You did it, you really did it. You’re a real life, honest to God, sorcerer!
Mike would have told him. Would have finally confronted how he felt and admit it to WIll. He really wanted to. But in the heat of the moment, he had stupidly shoved his feelings back down.
Friends? No thanks… Best friends.
He was scared, too scared to mess things up, to ruin what he had with Will. Did Will even feel the same anymore? Was he over it? Did Mike imagine it all in his head? He couldn’t take the risk.
Then they lost El. He felt guilt; immense, overwhelming guilt. He had failed to save her, to protect her. A guilt that he had never experienced before. He had always lauded himself on taking her in that fateful, rainy night nearly 5 years ago. She was scared, lonely, and lost. And now, the one time it mattered, he couldn’t save her. He knew it was her decision, her choice, and she was at peace with it, but for some reason, he just couldn’t accept it. Maybe he hadn’t loved her, not like she wanted, but that didn’t make the grief he felt any less soul-crushing. She had chosen him to talk to, and he couldn’t convince her. He was supposed to be the heart. He was supposed to be the leader, the person people turned to. And he failed. Failed to save her.
He couldn’t move on, not like everyone else. It’s not that they didn’t care– they all did. But in the end, it was Mike that felt the guilt. He was the one that failed, not them. He couldn’t convince her to stay. And so, as the rest of the party processed their grief, sorrow, and tried to build a normal life beyond the hell they had all gone through, Mike stagnated. They all tried to help, but Mike pushed them away, isolating himself, not wanting to bring them down with him.
Will tried to understand, tried to help, but Mike wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t do that to Will, the boy he loved. After all that Will had been through, he deserved, more than anyone else, to lead a happy life. To move on. If Mike let Will help him, he wouldn’t move on. Mike knew Will, knew that he would push aside his own happiness to help Mike. And Mike needed to see Will happy, so he ignored all Will’s efforts. He let his calls go unanswered, ignored the door when it rang, and went silent when Will approached him. Will eventually gave up, and Mike sat in his own grief, his life going nowhere. When the party all decided to go off to college, planning their futures, Mike fell behind. He couldn’t bring himself to build something beyond what had happened. He was stuck. He had lost it all. Worst of all, he lost Will.
Now, the ache that had always come when Will was gone or distant had consumed his life. Every moment without Will felt empty and meaningless. Every interaction, every conversation. In three months from now, he knew that was about to lose Will for good. Sure they didn’t talk much as it was now, by Mike’s own doing, but he knew that once Will moved away, he would never look back. He knew that he and Will would never talk again, that he really would lose him. And Mike couldn’t live that truth.
As Mike sat in his basement, he contemplated that reality. He couldn’t let himself lose Will. He couldn’t live without him for the rest of his life. He couldn’t lose the one person who understood him, the one person he loved. He had to fix this.