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Will reaches for a comic book on one of the many shelves in Mike's basement. He looks for a copy of anything to distract himself, not really caring which one he chooses. Spider-Man or the X-Men felt like a bleak debate today. Maybe it was the warm summer sun, or three months in the Wheelers’ house with the same repetitive material, that had dulled the spark.
Or maybe it was that cold rage crawling underneath his flesh.
Jonathan and Nancy were investigating the metal band-aid placed by the military while Ted, Holly, and Karen were at the Hawkins municipal pool. His mom, for her part, was working at a lovely general store for the summer. No one else was home. No home else aside from Jane and Mike cuddling together in Mike's room.
Will was confused when she pulled up to the door. Heavily dressed — but not enough to make her stand out in the heat— she addressed a gentle smile at Will. Wasn’t Jane supposed to be at Hopper’s cabin? His frown deepened for a second before he flashed a bright expression in return. Will hated how she wasn’t allowed to just be a child with Henry and the government looking for her.
They talked in a low voice for a couple of minutes, soft giggles escaping their lips. Her training, Hopper, the party, and her new scrapbooking project. Will loved talking to her. Wasn’t it weird for them to say so many things yet so few words? Will missed this closeness, the proximity to someone who understood you and your thoughts. They were similar in small ways they would never admit out loud.
But Mike came down the stairs, and the moment was gone. He took her upstairs, and it was back to being the wallflower.
Will would always be just that: a silent presence. He learned from a very young age that not making a sound was the best solution. It was survival. It was why he escaped the monsters for so long in the upside down, better than any of his friends would ever have. It wasn’t for being a loud track star but because he knew how to blend himself with the noise.
A beat passed, and more sounds came from the floors upstairs.
His feet didn’t move, planted solidly on the carpet. He looked around and sighed. His own drawing scattered the walls like glow-in-the-dark stars, illuminating the room with light and life. They were all drawings guided by the careful mind of Mike, who was so full of ideas. Will didn’t love drawing for himself. Every time he did so, it felt impossible. His art only mattered when it came from Mike’s loud voice. Otherwise, it was insignificant and invisible.
Mike was always the center of attention, the one everyone gravitated around. He created a world on his own just by being there, like the storyteller he was. It was what had drawn Will. He somehow made all things possible. Mike’s flaw was expressing his feelings. He was capable of writing them in his stories, sure, but when it came to him, he was a mess. He could never say I love you to Jane, not even in letters, but he constantly babbled about love.
All of a sudden, Will was back in California on his birthday, the day Mike visited. He remembers the excitement he felt clutching his painting when he saw his best friend arrive. The thrill of knowing maybe he was just busy. The cold disappointment of being ignored — just like the summer before — for a performance. It hurt to fall from being Mike’s favourite person in the world to a simple stranger. Maybe growing up made him lose everything that made him special in his eyes. Why bother with Will the Wise when you had someone so much more interesting?
But it wasn’t on Mike; it was his fault for caring too much, feeling too much quietly. He remembered the deep breath he took before blowing on the candle he put on a single Reese’s candy. He had hoped for someone to stay, anyone really. He would’ve taken an angry best friend, a forgetful mom, a hurt sister, or a high out-of-his-mind brother. He wished himself a happy birthday for next year.
More wrath crashed in his ribcage, threatening to spill out.
“Tuck it nice and neat.” He whispered to himself like a lullaby.
“Oh my, you have your father’s eye !” a stranger had once remarked. Little Will didn’t get the resemblance; Lonnie's eyes were so angry all the time. How could they be the same? You fucking fag! I don’t understand how my flesh and blood became such a pathetic queer. Jonathan and Mom always praised him for being so kind and comprehensive. He often made supper to lighten his family's load, did the laundry, and learned to sew patches on his clothes. A small part of him was terrified that he truly had his father's anger.
The smell of buttered popcorn floated to his nostrils. Listening closely, he could hear the banters and the sweet words coming from Jane. They were gathering stuff to watch a movie. It was an expected date for a couple.
Will’s gut twisted uncomfortably, and he wanted to throw up. He pressed his thumb into the seam of his jeans until it went numb. No! God, he wanted to be happy for them! He wanted to happily see them without suppressing his feelings. Why was it so hard? They didn’t deserve the ugly jealousy flowing from his vain. It was disgusting.
In DnD, a paladin and a cleric were the perfect combination — not a paladin and a mage. Everybody knew that. The problem was: it wasn’t a campaign, it was real life. It didn’t matter if he had been there first. It didn’t matter how long he stared at Mike’s mouth when they had sleepovers. Jane Hopper was a wonderful girl who deserved love and a typical romance. She was the superhero. Will couldn’t expect Mike to one day wake up and love him back. It wouldn’t be fair to her, not after everything she sacrificed to be there. His best friend was incapable of even saying that two boys could be together. It was a forbidden concept, and Will felt filthy for entertaining such dreams. He hated searching for signs in little things. God. He was going crazy alone.
The stairs of the basement creaked as the couple of lovebirds descended. His sister waved enthusiastically at him, holding the popcorn they had made in the kitchen minutes earlier.
“We are going to watch a movie. Do you want to join us ?” Asked Jane.
“Yeah, man, it would be cool if you did! We are going to watch Ghostbusters. El should have some time before Hopper finds out she’s gone. ”
Will was gripping an X-Men book as if it were a lifeline. But he didn’t say anything about how he was feeling. He buried it deep inside and smiled at them.
Sometimes Will felt like one of those paintings in the Louvre, lost in the sea of art at the expense of the Mona Lisa. If he were a stroke on a canvas, he wondered whether the first emotion people would notice would be anger or sadness.
“Yes, of course I’m in! I haven’t watched it in forever.”