Chapter Text
It was a cold, rainy night and Mike, Will, Lucas, Dustin, and Max were inside playing a game of DND in Mike’s basement. Upstairs, El had been baking some chocolate chip cookies. Lately, she has been practicing her baking skills and has become very fond of the skill.
“Something smells good.” Mike had interrupted. “I wonder if it’s El’s chocolate chip cookies, I would definitely be down for some of those right now.” his stomach growling to prove his point.
“Totally.” Dustin and Lucas said at the same time. Because more than half the group had come to the same conclusion, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin had scrambled upstairs to check on them while Max and Will exchanged a shrug and quickly followed. Upstairs, El had just been finishing up with the cookies, topping them off with a little hint of sugar.
“Oh!” she had jumped, startled by the sudden scramble of people huddled near her. She put on a warm smile. Even after Mike and El’s break up, things have stayed perfectly normal between them. They just decided that they were not meant for each other romantically. “I was just finishing up a new batch of cookies, I tried a new recipe!” El has been wearing her new bright yellow sweater that matched her confidence perfectly. “Would you guys like some?” she offers.
“Yes please I’m starved!” Dustin dramatically exclaims, reaching for a cookie and devouring it. Everyone bursts into laughter and joins in, devouring the delicious batch.
Except Will. He pushed his plate away and mumbled, “I’m not hungry. Thanks anyway, though.”
Will had been like this for a while now—quiet, distant. He’d always been the introverted one, the kid who listened more than he talked, but never like this. Not empty.
No one said anything. No one ever did.
Will had been through a lot. Sure, all of them had. But when Will was taken in ’83, he hadn’t just been scared—he’d been trapped, hunted, and alone for a week. Whatever had happened to him back then didn’t stay there. It lingered, settling into the spaces between words, into the way he pulled back when things got loud.
Mike noticed immediately. He was always good at knowing when something was off, especially with Will. The amount of distance Will has created between him and the cookie on the plate looked almost as if it was intentional, but Mike didn’t mention that.
Instead, he frowned, his eyes drifting to Will’s—a dark brown with an unsettling glance set to them. Mike tapped his fingers against the table and asked, “You sure you aren’t hungry?” with a hint of worry in his tone. He knew Will had been off for a while but not eating El’s delicious cookies? That felt almost criminal.
With that, Will turns over, glancing at Mike. He starts like he wants to say something—but sighs and says, “Yeah, I’m fine.”
The rest of the group finally turns their attention to Will and Mike, and Dustin glances at the untouched cookie. “Well,” Dustin grins brightly, “more for me!”
Mike turns his attention back to Will. He’s trying to find fun with the group, but something is not right with Will. “Will, you’ve barely eaten anything today, just have a bite.” he protests, but Will rejects it.
This time, the tired look planted on his face twists into slight anger. “Mike. Drop it.”
A look of sadness and confusion hints into his face. “I’m just trying to understand—”
Suddenly, Will slams on the table, bringing everyone’s attention. Then, he quickly hides his hands in his pockets and stares down, angry and embarrassed.
“What’s going on here?” Lucas exclaimed.
“Nothing,” Will muttered, fidgeting. “You know… I should get going. It’s getting late.” He glanced at his watch, voice awkward, then bolted for the door.
“Will!” Mike jumped up, sprinting after him, but Will was already outside, rain pelting down around him. “Will! Come on, please! I didn’t mean that! I was just—just looking out for you and—”
“Mike,” Will interrupted, slowing down just enough to face him, water dripping from his hair, “I need some time to think. Okay? Just… let me be.”
Mike’s chest tightened. “But Will—”
Will didn’t wait for him. He turned and dashed off through the rain, heading straight for his house, leaving Mike standing soaked and frustrated on the sidewalk.
Mike spent the rest of the night pretending to act normal with his friends, but internally his insides burned with guilt and frustration.
That was two nights ago. Currently, Mike is supposed to get all packed and ready to leave for the Byers house. He has no idea how he’s going to survive 2 weeks with his friend who might hate him right now and has been distant for months.
~
He goes up to knock on the door.
Knock knock
He really hopes it’s not Will who answers.
God please dont let it be Will.
Luckily, when the door is answered, he’s met with a warm hug from Joyce as a welcome. “Hey sweetie! How are you? Will’s downstairs—let me go grab your bags and put them in the room.”
He forces a smile back. “Hey Ms. Byers, I’m doing fine myself!” and then Mike hands Joyce his bags to put in the room.
The room. As in Will’s room. As in, he was going to have to share a room with Will.
Which shouldn’t be weird at all, considering they were—or had been—best friends. Even if the last couple of months hadn’t felt that way.
Mike stopped outside the door, took a deep breath, and knocked.
Knock knock
“Uh… can I come in?” he asked, curling a strand of hair around his finger. A nervous habit.
The door creaked open.
Will stood there.
Just Will.
Except… not just Will.
The same Will he’d gotten into an argument with two nights ago.
Mike looked away first, dragging his backpack inside and unrolling his sleeping bag. He tried not to think about the rain, about raised voices, about the way Will had looked when he ran off.
When he glanced back, Will wasn’t looking at him.
He had his headphones on now, gaze fixed on the canvas in his hands. A paint set sat beside him, carefully arranged. Probably The Cure playing in his headphones, if Mike had to guess. The paintbrush moved slowly and steady across the canvas, as if one wrong swish of Will’s paintbrush would ruin the entire piece.
Mike turned onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The room smelled faintly of laundry detergent, the same way it always had.
There was something comforting about being here, surrounded by things he’d known for years.
He knew this room better than the back of his hand.
The night settled into stillness. It was so quiet Mike could hear the soft drops of rain tapping against the window.
He turned his head toward Will one last time, catching the faint sound of paint brushing against canvas. Beneath it—softer, almost imagined—was the steady rhythm of Will’s heartbeat.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
One, two, three.
Suddenly, Will shifted, shuffling closer—and looked straight at him.
Shit, Mike thought. I was staring.
Mike looked away quickly—feeling his heart thumping through his ears. “I uh—” he started with shaky hands, feeling his ears turn red.
Will halfheartedly mumbles back, “It’s fine.”
Mike settled back into his sleeping bag, pulling himself as deep inside as he could. He hated this—this awkward tension between them. Eventually, his eyelids grew heavy, and he managed to close his eyes long enough to drift off naturally.