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Mike had been steadily getting worse.
It sucked.
He got sick and then was thrown into a flare and nothing has been okay.
He can barely walk without severe pain or being at risk of falling, but he’s spent every day having to move around and only worsen himself.
And now he was at the Byers’ house, caught by Jonathan, who got home the same time he dropped his bike.
Jonathan helped him inside, calling for Will, knowing that’s who Mike was looking for. He checked in on Mike, asking if he needed anything.
“An ice pack if that’s okay?”
He laid back on the stairs as he waited for Will. Jonathan nodded, promising to be back.
Will made his way down, and knew how Mike was doing just by seeing his face.
Will sat next to him, checking in.
“I’m doing bad. Jonathan’s getting me an ice pack. He stopped me from eating shit after getting off my bike.”
“You could’ve called, Mike. I’m happy to come over and you know it.”
“I know. But I wanted to be here. I needed to be away.”
Will nods. “I understand. I’m glad you know, too. Hell, even Jonathan will run over to you if you need.”
“Nance and I would do the same for you two. I’ll ask Jon to pick me up next time.”
“Please do. Do not bike if you’re in pain.”
“Will, I’m always in pain.”
“I know, but, you know what I mean.”
He did. No biking in a flare. He nods, lying against Will.
Jonathan hands him the requested ice pack, plus water and pain meds.
“It might not touch the pain, I know. But we have them if you think they’ll help.”
Mike doubts they will, but takes them anyway. Maybe it’ll at least touch the pain.
“Call if you need anything, okay? I’ll be in my room. Mom’s at work but will be back before dinner. I assume you’ll be staying?”
Will confirms before Mike can even open his mouth.
He’s happy with that.
Jonathan heads off, and Mike once again rests against Will. Will’s holding the ice pack to his hip, one of the worst splits of pain next to his knee. His right leg was five times worse than his other leg, and in turn the rest of his body.
“Want to go lie down?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay with being carried to bed?”
Mike nods. Being carried sounds nice. Especially if it means he doesn’t need to walk and worsen his pain.
Will scooped him into his arms, taking Mike to his room. He’s laid in the bed, sat up slightly with pillows, the ice returning to his hip.
“What’s your pain level?”
“Seven-point-five. Bad idea to bike.”
“I told you.”
“I’ll listen to you more, I promise.” It’s a true statement. He really should listen to Will more. And he should take better care of himself. “Also…I had to run around all day since Nance was working. Neither of my parents cared. So when I was done, I made my way here.”
Will nods, a frown forming on his face. “Please call next time. Don’t put yourself in danger.”
“Okay.” He nods, picking at scars on his hands. “Okay.”
Will took his hands, a silent way of telling him to stop. He’d started doing that since coming back from the Upside Down, since becoming somewhat okay, when he first noticed the heaps of scarring there, and on his palms. Mike never told him how he got those scars. Only Dustin knows. He also knew of a few other ones. Ones that Will has seen but also never got an answer to.
But Will is so gentle with him, right now. Holding his hands, fingers dragging over the scars that are actually healed now, slightly raised. How was Will so sweet?
“How does the bed feel? Better?”
“I’m…gonna need at least an hour to see if this helps. But…it’s better than standing and being on my feet like I have been.”
Will nods. There’s a soft smile too, paired with a kiss to his forehead. “Take all the time you need to rest. I’ll help you with anything you need.”
Mike trusted him entirely. He knew Will would jump up to help if he needed it, as much as he hated asking for help. He needed it though.
Help and a lot of rest.
Will sits next to Mike, and Mike curls into him, keeping weight off his right leg since any weight on it was agony.
Will held him, and Mike just tried to rest. Not much could be done besides new ice packs and maybe help walking. At least to make sure he won’t fall and hurt himself.
But for now, he just waited to see if the meds Jonathan gave him would kick in.
They don’t.
Mike hides his face in Will’s chest, clutching his shirt. The ice was moved to his knee now. It was obvious he was in a lot of pain, unable to even word it much less get help.
But Will being around helped. He felt safer here with him, in this house.
The Byers house was always a safe and welcoming place. He liked his own place, but it was nice here.
Will traced shapes against Mike’s back. Nothing of real note, but a way to soothe and distract. It helped a bit, but it didn’t dull the pain.
Will knew that. Mike knew Will knew that. But it was still nice.
He wrapped his arms around Will, shifting a bit to do so, not caring so much when his arms started to go numb.
He continued to be held, tucked into Will’s side.
His eyes eventually close though he doesn’t sleep. He just enjoys the moment. Will’s still drawing against his back, telling stories, just like he typically does. He feels safe. He feels okay. For the first time all week he’s okay.
They stay like that for a while. Will’s hand never stills against his back. It’s a constant comfort that lulls him almost to sleep.
Though when there’s a knock on the half-open bedroom door, Mike jumps, tensing completely. It hurts, and the noise he makes is evident of that. Will jumps into panic mode, barely missing Mrs. Byers’ voice.
Mike insists he’s okay even if it’s a bold-face lie.
Joyce walks in without an affirmative, which Mike cares so little about right now. She checks him over too, making sure he was fine. Will explains the flareup, and Mike adds that he just got spooked, not expecting the knock.
She apologizes though Mike insists she doesn’t have to.
“I’m fine, I promise. Will’s making sure I don’t die by falling and hitting my head on things.”
Luckily he hadn’t been out of bed since Will carried him up here. So no falling risks yet.
Joyce can see that he isn’t alright, though. Usually she was good at that, always able to tell. Just like Will and Jonathan.
“Rest up. Will of course will make sure you’re alright. I’m going to start dinner pretty soon, so I’ll send Jonathan when it’s ready.”
Both Mike and Will nod. Mike thanks her.
The minute he and Will are alone again, he’s curling back up against Will. He’s stretching his legs out, despite the fact it makes his pain worse. There's no middle ground. But Will is there.
The comfort is helping. Even if it doesn’t get rid of the pain.
He rests there, clinging back to Will like his life depended on it, even as his shoulders and elbows hurt twice as bad just from the fact he’s holding onto Will.
They stay like that.
Up until it’s dinner. Jonathan knocks on the door, barely peeking in to inform them. Mike is half also at that point, face tucked into Will’s neck.
“Mike…hey, you gotta wake up, it’s dinner time.”
If Mike was being honest, he barely had an appetite. And he wanted to just fall asleep. But he tried to wake up, rubbing his eyes. Will helped him sit up properly, since he couldn’t easily lift himself off the other.
“Wheeler, you doing any better?” Jonathan asked, crouched in front of Mike now, making sure he can be seen without stressing Mike’s body.
“Not really. It’s okay though.”
“I’m sorry. I hope you feel better soon.”
Mike nods. He always hated that phrase, but he knew how Jonathan meant it. He wished for his flareup to end soon. He knows Mike will never be “better”.
All the Byers know it.
And they just want him to be as okay as possible.
Will offered to carry him again. He accepted. Jonathan left a bit before the other two, making sure the door was open wide enough.
It was just the four of them tonight. Will helped Mike into the chair next to his, getting both of their plates and drinks. Mike couldn’t believe Will was so caring.
He loves him so much.
If it was just them, he’d kiss Will. But he doesn’t now, not with Jonathan and Mrs. Byers around. Even if they wouldn’t care and definitely at least assumed they’re together.
He still thanks Will, of course, holding his hand under the table for a few moments.
Mike locs their pinky fingers as they eat. He struggles at first but masks it the best he can, not wanting to be pitied even though he knows the Byers never give him pity.
He mostly stays silent as everyone talks, conserving his limited energy on top of not really having anything to add to the conversation.
Will looked at him every so often, noticing how off he was, understandably so. There’s silent questioning. Mostly if he’s okay. To any degree.
He nods. It’s a lie, he’s not okay. He hasn’t been all day. Or all week. But Will knows that.
But being here also helps.
Will doesn’t press.
Dinner was nice, Mike tried to help but was kept in his seat, even though he swore he could handle a few steps.
And he could, even though he’d be in pain.
But no one risked it.
So Mike sat in the chair. He hated feeling helpless but he let himself be taken care of.
Will and him settled on the couch this time. Movie night.
Mike curled up against Will, feet kicked out on the nearest thing to ease his pain. He didn’t know what was playing but watched intently.
At least until he felt his eyes droop. He was exhausted. He could feel it in his bones.
Will guided his head down to rest on his shoulder, and Mike quickly got comfortable.
His eyes fell shut almost immediately. Will played with his hair a bit, further soothing him, dragging him into sleep.
He’s out before the movie’s even halfway through. He snores, quietly, practically into Will’s ear. He wants every day to be like this - pain aside of course.
He really likes the Byers house. Mainly Will.