Chapter Text
Will
Will and Jonathan had been staying at the Wheeler’s house for quite some time now. They had set up camp together in the basement. It was nice for the two brothers to share as they each had their own space but also had each other near. That was…until Jonathan started staying in Nancy’s room every night.
He felt more alone than ever right now.
Jonathan was too wrapped up in Nancy Wheeler to even visit the basement where Will resided, and his “best friend”, Mike, he wasn’t really on speaking terms with.
Oh Mike.
Just thinking about him and the distance that seemingly continued pushing them further apart was enough to make Will’s eyes well up in tears.
He sat on the couch that Jonathan used to sleep on and pulled out a sketch book he had been drawing in whenever he felt anxious or upset, which seemed to be more common than not.
He began sketching furiously, his hand working faster than his mind. This was the only thing that put his mind to peace, drawing. Drawing…and well Mike.
Mike.
Here comes the tears again. All he can think about is their argument and how it had pulled them apart.
A few months prior, Will had made a painting with Mike in mind. It was made with all the love Will carried for his best friend. He didn’t just love him though, that was the problem. He was in love with him. But, he also knew that this love was one-sided and unrequited so he would never act on it. During this time Mike had been dating El. They were having relationship problems, and Will, being the kind of person he is, gave Mike the painting under the guise of it being commissioned by El. He also maybe confessed all of his feelings to Mike…under the guise of them being El’s feelings of course.
He had been the one to fix their relationship. Until Mike thanked El for the painting. Will remembers this conversation vividly, as if it had happened just yesterday.
“Painting?” El asked, confused, turning to face Mike.
Will sat at the dining room table as they spoke just a few feet over in the kitchen. He was taking a sip of his water, which he nearly spat out.
“Well yeah! The one you commissioned Will to paint for me.” Mike responded over his shoulder as he was pouring a drink of his own.
Will’s face went deep red as Eleven glanced at Will and back to Mike once more. Will had wished he could just vanish right then and there.
“I didn’t commission a painting Mike.” Eleven spoke softly as she kept her eyes on Will as if trying to read the situation.
Mike laughed a bit as if she was joking around. “Yeah just like how you didn’t say how much you needed me and made Will your messenger.” He said with a sarcastic and playful tone. He spun around to face Eleven , and he realized she wasn’t joking.
The chair made a screeching noise as Will got up from it fast, not bothering to push it back in. He nearly sprinted towards the basement even though he could hear the both of them yelling his name. He closed the door on them, and as he began descending the stairs he heard the noise from above, he knew it was over between them.
The banging on the basement door followed soon after the front door was shut. Mike was angry, but most of all confused and in desperate need for an answer as to why Will would lie. Will knew he wasn’t one to lie, so he knew it was probably upsetting and confusing. But lying was better than saying the truth. The horrible truth.
Will spoke from behind the door.
“What Mike?” Was all he said.
“ Don’t “What Mike” me. You lied to me.” Mike said.
Will wasn’t able to see his face, but Will knew that Mike was mad at him. He still wasn’t going to tell him the truth.
“I just wanted you two to be happy together, I was just trying to help.” Will said.
Mike didn’t respond. Will could hear him walking away from the door and presumably up the stairs. This is where the distance started.
Ever since that night he and Mike hadn’t spoken. They avoided each other in the house, and at meals they would sit opposite of each other and never spoke a word nor shared a glance.
As Will finished replaying the dreaded memory, he glanced down at his sketch which he had now finished. Tears sprinkled across the page, a detailed drawing of Mike in the center of the page. He had the same heart and shield symbol drawn onto his shirt as he did in the painting Will had gave him. He traced finger over the small symbol and then wiped his last tears from his eyes.
He always seemed to end up drawing Mike. Mike was always his muse ever since he was young and Will would draw him. He knew every inch of Mike’s face probably better than his own. It had been a while since he truly looked Mike in the face, yet he was still able to draw an almost picture perfect portrait of him.
He continued staring at the drawing as he heard knocks on the basement door which took him out of his trance immediately.
“Dinner!” Mrs. Wheeler called down to him.
Will got up and quickly hid the sketchbook into his backpack behind larger notebooks, then made his way up the stairs for dinner. He braced himself as he always did.
Mike
Mike sat at the dinner table quietly. Which would usually be weird for him but was steadily becoming his new normal.
He heard his mom call for dinner towards the basement. He didn’t want to look up, but his eyes were naturally drawn to the door opening as Will emerged. Mike quickly diverted his eyes away from Will and instead focused on his dinner plate.
He didn’t hate Will. No. Not in the slightest. He was just confused, and hurt that Will had lied to him. Will was never one to lie, so for him to lie, and to his best friend of all people. That was what hurt Mike the most.
He heard Will and his mom taking their respective seats at the dinner table. Tonight it was only him, Will, his mom and dad, and his little sister. Jonathan and Nancy were gone. He didn’t know where, nor did he care.
He picked at his food. Pushing it around on his plate mostly and eating a few bites every now and then. His family assumed his new mood was because of his break up. Mike tried convincing himself it was because of that too. But as the days went on he started believing himself less and less. He knew him and El were better as friends. Deep down he always felt that way, but he couldn’t explain why. He should see her as more than that, but he never truly did.
His thoughts were interrupted.
“Mike Wheeler!” Karen Wheeler spoke loudly.
Mike’s head snapped up at her voice.
“I have said your name three times, Michael.” She stated.
“Sorry, got a lot on my mind.” Mike stated plainly and looked at his mom completely avoiding looking across from him.
“Well I need you to clean dishes with Will. I would but I need to help Holly with some of her homework before her bedtime.” Karen said as she got up along with Holly as they walked towards the desk in the living room.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Mike didn’t want to do the dishes at all, let alone with Will.
He glanced across the table to see Will was already getting up to pick up the dishes. Mike’s father, Ted, was also getting up, presumably to go lay back in the recliner. Mike reluctantly pushes his chair out and picks up his own dishes.
Determined to not make eye contact he shuffles to the trash can and scrapes his food off of his plate. Mike then moves to the sink where Will is already scrubbing dishes. He reaches to grab a sponge accidentally bumping Will’s arm. He glances at Will but quickly averts his gaze. As Mike is washing he can feel Will’s eyes on him. He doesn’t know if he should say anything or keep quiet.
Mike decides to stay quiet as they both finish the dishes. Will puts the ones he washed onto the drying rack first and moves out of the way so Mike can put his on there as well. When Mike is done he turns to see Will already opening the door to the basement.
Will
What just happened.
Will was walking downstairs and completely lost in his thoughts. What was the luck of having to wash dishes alongside Mike? Why did Mike bump against him and not at least say sorry? All he did was glance at him.
Will knew Mike was still upset with him, but he also knew he couldn’t explain himself. It would make the situation worse. The silence was the best option. But Will hated how he felt right now. He knew he should also be upset and distant with Mike, he knew that is what he should want.
But the accidental touch…Mike’s gaze on him, lingering for longer than it should have.
Will tried shrugging off the thoughts he was having. He sunk into the couch and immediately felt the familiar, heavy blanket of isolation settled over him. He didn’t want to think, he just wanted to relax a bit and calm himself down from the tension he had felt at the sink.
He got up and grabbed his bag that was lying next to his makeshift bed. He pulled out his notebook and a pencil. He began sketching. Memories of him and Mike ran through his mind. One specific one he remained focused on while drawing, it was of them, and their other two best friends Dustin and Lucas. He remembered them all being huddled together on the same coach he was now sitting on, laughing about something that Will couldn’t quite remember.
Mike had slung his arm around Will, a gesture that was once familiar and common. A feeling that Will had read into at the time and now finds stupid of himself. But right now that stupid feeling didn’t touch Will as Will drew the memory with only him and Mike. They weren't as young as they were in the memory. They were older, as they now are.
That wasn’t the only thing that changed.
Mike didn’t just have his arm slung around him, his other arm was now wrapped around his waist like they were hugging. Holding. Mike was holding Will.
Will traced his pencil over the lines of Mike’s face. Will let out a shaky breath, placing the drawing onto the coffee table. He stared at the fictional closeness he had created, a closeness he desperately craved. The drawing was almost a cruel joke, a reminder of what he knew he could never truly possess. He felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him, mentally and emotionally drained from the evening's silent tension with Mike and the weight of his own unsaid feelings tearing them apart.
He stripped down to his boxers and shirt, climbing into the makeshift bed he had created on the floor. It felt small and desolate without Jonathan nearby. He pulled the thin blanket up to his chin, trying to find a comfortable position, but his mind kept replaying the dinner table, the dishes, and the brief, accidental brush of Mike's arm against his.
Focus on anything else.
He closed his eyes tightly, willing himself to sleep. Slowly, the darkness behind his eyelids won out over the anxiety, and he drifted off.
The next morning, Will woke before the sun had fully risen, a habit born of a need for some alone time. He glanced toward the couch, noting the faint outline of the backpack and his shoes. A quick check of the top of the basement stairs confirmed the house was still silent.
He had a mission. He needed to get out today. Before the rest of the Wheeler household woke up and, most importantly, before Mike came downstairs.
He quickly dressed, shoved his necessary things into his backpack, and tiptoed up the stairs. He paused at the top, listening for any movement. Nothing. He opened the basement door as quietly as possible, stepped into the hallway, and crept toward the front door.
He scribbled a quick note on a scrap of paper he found near the phone: "Out early. Went to see El." He taped it poorly to the refrigerator door, letting Mrs. Wheeler know where he had disappeared off to.
Will slipped out the front door, pulling it shut with agonizing care. He was almost down the driveway when a flash of panic hit him. He reached for his backpack, confirming his sketchbook was in there. He breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the book. He continued walking, focusing on the crisp morning air and the necessity of putting distance between himself and the Wheeler house.
He failed to realize, however, that in his rush and exhaustion from being unable to sleep well, he had grabbed his notebook he used for school rather than his sketchbook. Will had no idea his sketchbook was still laid on the coffee table. His feelings are out there, open for anyone to see.