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It had been a week. Not a good one, certainly far from it. Will was exhausted and upset and he just wanted to be left alone. Not fully alone, of course, he wanted his boyfriend to be there with him, but Mike had a night class and wouldn’t return for another two hours. So for now, Will grabbed his secret sketchbook and curled up in Mike’s bed.
Sue him, alright? It was comforting to sit surrounded by him even while he wasn’t there.
His most recent sketch was half finished. It was after he had a nightmare the other day, taking a midday nap while Mike was in class. He didn’t sleep well alone. It had jolted him awake, leaving him with the grimy feeling of vines crawling on every inch of his skin. The sketch was of that, of vines twisting up bare skin. It made him itch just looking at it.
He turned the page.
Will had choked earlier. He was eating lunch with his friends and something had gone down wrong. It had gotten caught in his throat, stuck as Will tried to hack and cough it up. His friends had immediately helped him, grabbing water and patting his back, but as soon as he recovered he ran to the bathroom to cry.
He hated having things in his throat, something obstructing his breathing and ability to swallow. It wasn’t something he had run into overly much ever since he went to college, but when it did happen?
He started to draw.
Will never talked about this portion of his trauma. His family and friends in Hawkins knew all of what had happened to him, the torture, fear, and pain he had gone through, but not the full extent. Not this part. How was he supposed to talk about it? About the feeling of the Mind Flayer and Henry possessing him- touching him. No, they didn’t need to know about this. It was easier if no one else knew.
So instead, Will opted to draw. As he usually did. It was a good way to get things out, to lessen the load of the things he’d rather not discuss. His therapist told him it was a great idea, after all. So he kept a secret sketchbook that he hid away from everyone, even Mike. It worked for him.
In the midst of his focus, a key pressed into the dorm room door. He jolted, glancing at the clock in alarm- had he forgotten the time? No, it was only 6:30. Mike was home early. His heart leapt in his chest and he perked up, art forgotten, and tossed his sketchbook to his own bed. He covered it with his blanket quickly- he could hide it away better in a minute.
Mike slipped into the door with his hands full. Will didn’t know what to focus on first- the bag of takeout food in one hand or the flowers in the other. Both instantly reminded Will of why he loved this man so much, why he had loved him since they were kids.
“God- how do you always know when I’ve had a bad day?” He asked, a smile breaking out on his face. Mike looked so excited to see him, as if they didn’t live together and spend nearly 24/7 together. He stood up and walked over, taking the bouquet of sunflowers he was being offered. His boyfriend leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, looking at him with those big brown eyes in a way that made him melt. Suddenly his upset from earlier didn’t matter so much.
“I just know you,” he replied sweetly, smiling at him. Will quickly stole a proper kiss. They broke apart so Mike could fully get in the door, the man toeing off his shoes and setting down the food. Will glanced around for something to use as a vase- they didn’t have much glassware in their tiny dorm. “Class got canceled last minute, so I figured I’d surprise my lovely boyfriend, maybe have a movie night.”
Will hummed softly as Mike’s form pressed up behind him, a large hand sliding to press against his stomach. He leaned into his boyfriend, tilting his head back onto his shoulder and inhaling his familiar and comforting scent. He turned his head and kissed his jaw. Mike squeezed him gently in his arms.
“I’d love that, honey,” Will smiled, feeling calm in a way that only Mike could cause. That was the best part about dating your best friend, he guessed. Or maybe that was just the best part about dating Mike Wheeler. Just a year ago he would’ve never thought this would be happening. Going to college with Mike as his roommate was the best thing he had ever done. Well, other than being Mike's friend in the first place. “Let me put the flowers in some water and we can settle.”
He pulled away from him, grabbing a half empty cup and moving to the bathroom to dump out the soda and replace it with water. He heard Mike shifting around in the main part of their room, a feeling of domesticity settling in his chest warmly.
When he came back into the room his boyfriend was sitting there on his bed with a sketchbook in his lap. Mike was staring at his art, but not in the usual reverence he held for it, instead it was more like concern and horror. It took a moment before Will recognized the blank black cover, the only sketchbook of his that he didn’t decorate. The one where he drew the things he didn’t want anyone else to know about.
Mike had found it and was looking through it. It felt like he was looking into his very soul in a way. Mike always saw into his soul, but this was different. These were things he couldn’t even articulate, in a sketchbook that he swore he had just hidden from view.
Mike was staring at the pages.
The sensation of choking returned with a violent grasp.
“Where did you get that?” He snapped without thinking, panic leaching into his voice. Mike’s head jerked up to look at him, shocked at his sharp tone, which was fair. He didn’t have the capacity to feel bad about it at the moment though. He marched over to him and snatched it away, snapping the book shut with a crack in the now tense air of their room. “That’s private!”
Watching Mike’s expression melt from shock to worry and guilt made him instantly feel bad for yelling. He didn’t like snapping at Mike. The man instantly started to ramble. “I’m sorry- it was just left out and it was art of yours I haven’t seen before- I didn’t mean to intrude-“ He looked so worried and it only made Will more sick. He wasn’t mad at him, no, he was just terrified of what he had seen.
The panic welled up in him and before he realized it, he was crying. His shoulders shook and he sniffled, wrapping his arms around himself and the sketchbook as he watched his boyfriend sputter out apologies. He wiped his face on his shoulder, smearing dripping tears across his cheek.
“Will, baby, I’m so sorry,” Mike’s voice slowed from a terrified ramble to a soothing calm, that tone of voice that always made Will feel safe. “I’m sorry, can you come here? Why are you crying?” He asked softly, reaching out a hand for him. He reminded himself that this was Mike, real Mike, who would never do anything to harm him, and he reached out shakily to take his hand. He was guided over to the bed and discarded the sketchbook, opting to wrap his arms around his boyfriend instead. Mike took him in his arms on instinct, a hand on the base of his head and the other on the small of his back. He was warm, breathing, heart beating, real.
“I’m not mad at you,” he informed softly, trying to get his breathing under control as his nose pressed gently to the pulse point of Mike’s neck. He smelled familiar and comforting and Will quickly settled into his safety.
He could feel the relieved exhale from the man above him, his chin settled on the top of his head. “Thank God, I thought I had just fucked up,” he chuckled weakly. The concern was still apparent in his tone, but he didn’t push just yet. Will took his silence as another moment to breathe and calm down.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he finally admitted, not yet untucking himself from Mike’s neck. At least the man didn’t seem to be repulsed by him yet. Maybe he hadn’t understood what he had seen. “How much did you see?” How dirty did he think he was, now? How tainted was he in Mike’s mind?
“I- I’m not sure what I was seeing,” Mike admitted. “Just that it was all- dark. Not you.” It was sweet that Mike didn’t think of him as dark and grotesque and upsetting, despite the fact that Will definitely was. They had left their mark on him, made him into a monster, and all of that was shown in the pages Mike had looked at. There was a beat of silence. “What is it, Will?”
His hesitation was apparent. He didn't want to upset him by asking. It was sweet that he would likely be willing to leave this be if Will told him to. But he should know, he should be told what he was dating, explain some of the weird things he avoided. He untangled himself from his arms and moved to sit on the edge of the bed a few feet away.
“Will?” Mike’s voice was concerned, like it physically hurt to have Will stop touching him at this moment.
“It’s- it’s where I draw things I don’t want to talk about,” he started, staring down at his hands. He wrung them together, playing with the ring around one finger. Mike had got it for their first month anniversary, a promise that they’d never leave each other again. “The things I haven’t told anyone about, not even you.”
He reached over and picked the sketchbook back up, setting it in his lap and brushing his fingers along the rough cover of it. He flipped it open to the page he had just been working on, the messy sketch of a young him with a tube covering his mouth. It made him feel like there was a knot in his throat just staring at it.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Mike reassured, and a gentle hand rested on top of his forearm. His touch was burning- or maybe Will just felt unreasonably cold at the moment. That happened a lot now, though.
Will shook his head. “I want to,” he replied softly, “I need to. You deserve to know.” This conversation was a long time coming, especially when Mike would hold him night after night through these memories.
It was quiet for a moment. Not a peaceful quiet, but one that was heavy with unsaid words. Will remembered the day he had come out to his loved ones in fear of what Henry would do with the hidden information. The air in that room had felt much like the air did now. Though consistent with both spaces, Mike’s gaze was on him in its familiar steadiness.
“When Henry took me he treated me like I was special,” he began softly. His throat was already choked, voice trying to quiver like the way the rest of his body was. Mike’s thumb brushed gently over his wrist, grounding him like he had always known how to do. “He tried to convince me we were friends, that we were going to work together- that we understood each other. Because I was the same as him- an outcast, a freak, disgusting, broken.”
He felt Mike’s hand tighten on his arm. The man clearly wanted to protest but Will shook his head subtly, urging him not to interrupt. If he stopped talking now he never would start again.
“He- he pinned me up with his vines and- shoved that tube down my throat and-“ his voice quivered, his body twitched with a full shudder. He could feel it, the foreign body in his mouth, the substances being forced into his system. He created a demogorgon from that. “He talked to me. He’d pet my face and tell me that it was okay, that I’d be happier with him.”
He wanted to throw up. His stomach churned and lurched and his cheeks felt hollow. If he threw up now, would a slimy larva come out?
“And then I made Dart and-“ he shuddered, folding over on himself. He sniffled back tears and Mike’s hand slid up to his shoulder, gripping firmly. Will needed a moment, so he swallowed hard and allowed Mike to speak if he wanted to.
“Will-“ He couldn’t blame his boyfriend for not exactly knowing what to say. It probably explained some things, why he never let Mike do anything with his mouth while they had sex, why he didn’t like being restrained. He was sure it was a lot to process. “Will-“ The worry in his voice snapped him out of his pause.
“Then the Mind Flayer- I tried to get it to leave me alone but it-“ This time a soft sob escaped from his lips. He leaned slightly into the touch. It was warm and solid and not at all like the cold smoke that made up the Mind Flayer. “It was so similar to Henry. It injected itself and it was everywhere, I couldn’t do anything to fight it-“ his voice cracked.
He could feel it now, not just Henry’s vines but the Mind Flayer’s touch as well. It was cold and searing hot all at once, spreading through every inch of his body. He wanted to scream, to claw off every inch of his skin until he no longer felt the phantom touches. He’d never escape them, but he’d replace them with memories of other touch eventually. He’d drown it out.
With that in mind he leaned into Mike’s hand more, encouraging him to touch him further. That warm familiar grasp slipped around his back, tugging him closer by his ribs, resting him against his side. He felt a bit safer now, but there was more to the story.
“Even with them both gone- they still- they had their imprint. Whenever the hivemind would trigger it all came rushing back, like they were touching me all over again.” He wiped tears from his cheeks that he didn’t realize had even started falling again. His eyes burned, the back of his neck ached. “I couldn’t escape it, I didn’t think I ever would.”
The confession made him feel so endlessly helpless, but Will had always felt helpless. He had been born a weak kid into a rough world, built ‘incorrectly’ and in a way that wasn’t so easy to hide. He hadn’t been able to defend himself, his brother, his mom, or his friends. Then he went missing and he started everything, he ended up getting others hurt trying to save him over and over again. He thought it would never end. He considered ending it himself a few times, but he had always been too much of a coward.
“When Henry took me again-“ This may have been the worst part. The most shameful part. His hands fisted in the fabric of his pants until his knuckles went white. Mike’s thumb drew circles on his ribcage. “I fought, this time. So he messed with my head instead. He took everything- my fears, wants, secrets- he used it to keep me subdued.” It had worked, because Will had given up for a while, he hadn’t been able to fight his way through. Henry had won over him again. Even with his hivemind abilities, Will had still been weak.
“Sometimes it was you,” he admitted, and the words felt like he was setting off a bomb bigger than anything else he had said so far, “sometimes he’d show me you. That was worse than when it was just him.”
Visions of Mike, kind and sweet and just like he had been when they were younger. Images of him cradling Will’s face, calling him precious and amazing, giving him sweet smiles and even sweeter kisses. Will knew now what those things actually heard and felt like, but back then he had just allowed himself to believe it for a moment.
When Will would let himself sink into it, Mike would draw away. He would throw slurs, hit him, hiss the worst things he would never think he would hear his best friend say. Then Henry would appear, with his calm calculating tone.
Don’t you see, Will? This is what waits for you.
You should just give in. I can give you the world you want. There’s no disgust here with me.
If you go back, they’ll all turn on you. He’ll never forgive you for keeping this secret.
“I was so scared,” he choked out, and finally he couldn’t hold the sobs back anymore. He gasped as Henry’s voice and touch radiated through him like claws. “I’ve been so scared for so long.” He was openly wailing now, another thing that had always made him weak. The hand around his torso drew him in and he pressed his face to Mike’s chest.
“Shhh, shhh,” Mike murmured, hand rubbing up and down his side. “You’re safe, you’re with me, it’s all over now. It’s all over. We won. They’ll never hurt you again.” His kind words only made Will sob harder.
But he knew the sweetness of this Mike wasn’t fake, because he began to tell a story. It was the one he had been working on for class, about one of their various campaign adventures. Will had heard about it before, but apparently Mike had added to it, so he updated him. He told him more about the sorcerer and how strong he was, how much he had grown into himself.
After what felt like forever, his sobs slowed. Maybe he had just run out of tears, or maybe the calming voice of his everything had finally soothed him. Probably both.
“Will?” Mike prompted after a few moments of calm. His head felt fuzzy, unfocused, but he managed to make a soft noise of reply. A hand cradled his face, avoiding his lips, and he was lifted to look Mike in the eye. He allowed himself to be held.
“I want you to know that this doesn’t change anything, okay?” How Mike had always read his mind he didn’t know. “I don’t see you any differently. You’re not disgusting or broken or- or branded by them. You’re you, you’re Will. My Will. You’re still the hero of this story, the survivor, the sorcerer. You’re still everything, Will. You’re perfect.”
Back then these words would’ve sounded fake. He wouldn’t have accepted them. He would’ve accused Henry of making an unbelievable vision. But he knew this was Mike, his boyfriend, the one person who’s been by his side through it all.
“I’m so sorry all of that happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. I’m sorry- I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me.” Mike’s thumb stroked his jaw, his cheek, brushed over the mole above his lip. “I love you. I love you and I’ll never stop. Thank you for trusting me.”
Will managed a weak twitch of his lips. It wasn’t near a smile, but he did feel a bit happier- a lot lighter. Mike was never the best with spoken words, but his little speech was perfect. He took a shaky breath and tilted his head to press his lips to Mike’s palm.
“I’ll always trust you.” To a fault, he knew. “I love you, too.” He dropped his head back to rest on Mike’s chest, over his steady heartbeat. There was a lapse of silence, the gentle stroke of Mike’s fingers over his skin. “How about next time you tell me one of your secrets?”
Mike huffed a weak laugh. “Let’s hope there isn’t a next time.” Saying that made it sound like he had something to hide, but he didn’t push it. “For now, why don’t we curl up and watch a movie? Star Wars?”
Star Wars meant he thought Will would fall asleep halfway through and not actually watch. They had seen those movies so many times they could probably quote them word for word. They were good movies for when neither of them planned to truly watch.
“Yeah, Star Wars sounds good,” he agreed.
He sat up and tucked the black sketchbook away, and with it, the memories that plagued him. He was safe now.