Chapter Text
Mike does not open his eyes right away upon waking. He keeps them shut tight, hoping to be pulled mercifully back into oblivion, away from the memories that are already washing over him. El, standing in the gate. Resolute, but sad. The relief of thinking she had escaped turning to horror as he realized what she was doing. Calling out to her. Water splashing into his face as he fell into the void. Her final goodbye. The wind, picking up around her. Then; the gate, gone. El, gone.
Mike lets out a long, low exhale, knowing that chasing sleep is futile. His eyes blink open, and confusion sweeps over him for a moment before he can make sense of his surroundings– the basement.
Two weeks had passed since the party’s journey to the abyss. Killing Vecna, rescuing Holly and the other kids, a brief sense of victory, and then…
Mike blinks a tear out from the corner of his eye. He needs to pull it together, because crying before he is even out of bed feels too pathetic. He attempts to wipe his eyes subtly, but Will looks up from the table, catching him. Will always woke up first, and was already busy drawing in his sketchpad, graphite smudged over his hands and the sleeve of his sweater. Mike noticed he even had a small spot of graphite on his nose, probably from where he had touched it. When Will sees Mike fumbling to cover for his moment of weakness, an overwhelmingly soft expression spreads across his face. He does Mike the courtesy of looking away, pretending not to notice.
“Hey” he says, and there is such a heaviness in his voice that Mike feels his heart pull. El was Will’s sister. He was as grief-stricken as Mike. “Did you sleep?”
“Not really, but better than I have been since–”
Mike doesn’t have to finish his sentence.
Silence falls over the basement. Mike’s gotten used to sharing silences with Will over the last two weeks; neither of them really knew what to say. There wasn’t really anything to say. El was gone. Will hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye. Not that Mike felt particularly comforted by their last conversation. His mind can conjure up a hundred things he wishes he had said and done differently. He’s about to silently rehash them when Will finally speaks.
“I guess they do say that every day gets a little better.”
Mike attempts a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Sounds like a greeting card. Did you eat yet?”
“No, I’ve just been–” he gestures vaguely at his sketchbook. “Do you wanna go up together?”
Mike nods and they both stand. Although Mike’s been out the last few days, there’s been an unspoken rule that they start and end each day together. They both have their own activities; Will’s sketching and Mike’s reading. Neither of them had to say it; but they needed each other’s presence.
For the first few days after their return from the abyss, Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas had all slept in Mike’s basement. None of them seemed able to process what had happened, like their bodies couldn’t get used to the idea of the danger being gone. Eventually, Lucas and Dustin couldn’t hide from their parents anymore; the school had called home about them skipping class. With no explanation for why they needed time off, they were forced to go back, the world having no idea how significantly their lives had been altered. It must feel so isolating, Mike thinks, to return to a house where no one knows anything about the battles they’ve been facing for the last several years. The grief they all carried. But Lucas had Erica, and spent most of his time with Max anyways, accompanying her to every doctor’s appointment and sneaking in her bedroom window at night so she wouldn’t have to sleep alone. Although Dustin had no such ally at home, he had Steve, who was willing to drive over in a heartbeat if he needed to. They still checked in on the walkie with one another daily, and they visited, but Mike and Will had mostly become a party of 2.
It was similar to those long months when the Byers had lived here before Holly went missing and this whole mess started again. Except that it was also very different, because a heaviness had settled over every occupant of the house– the air was heavy with the ghost of the sister and daughter who would never laugh with them, train with them, or speak to them ever again.
Mike rubs the last traces of sleep out of his eyes and follows Will up the stairs.
Entering the kitchen, Mike finds Mrs. Byers and Hopper sitting at the table, whispering to one another. Mrs. Byers is staring at the wall, and Hopper’s voice is too low to make out; but Mike guesses he must be trying to bring her back to the present. Will takes her hand and squeezes once before grabbing the cereal, milk, two bowls and spoons, and sitting down. As Mike fills his bowl, Hopper gives Mrs. Byers a small nod. They stand and leave the kitchen without a word.
Hopper and Mrs. Byers had moved into Mike’s house to offer some semblance of parenting; Mike’s parents were still in the hospital making slow recoveries. Only they didn’t do much parenting. Mike didn’t blame them; they were as lost as he was.
Will looks down into his cereal bowl, swirling around the contents absentmindedly. The graphite stains give his hands a shiny quality as his fingers twirl his spoon.
“Will.”
Mike has to say his name twice before he looks up. Mike gestures to his hands, and Will attempts to rub away the graphite with his sleeve. “What have you been drawing?”
“Oh,” Will looks surprised at the question. “Just–things. You know, to help me process. I don’t know, I feel like drawing helps me do that.”
“Cool,” Mike nods. “I’m glad you have that, you know, to help you.”
Will drops his spoon and looks back at Mike. “I could show you how? Or we could try to find something for you–”
“You know I’ve never been the artist between us. Besides, it’s okay, I have my books, and–” he trails off.
“I know, Mike, but I don’t know. We can’t be this way forever. And El– she wouldn’t want us to be.” His voice cracks the slightest bit, “I’m trying to start, you know, moving forward I guess. But if you’re not ready–”
Anger flares in Mike. That was rich of Will to say when he hadn’t even really broken down yet. He’d cried occasionally, but Mike could tell he was keeping everything bottled up. And now he wants to ‘move forward.’ What the hell does that even mean?
He opens his mouth angrily but pauses when he sees Will’s face. His eyes are moist, and he makes no move to wipe them. A crease has settled between his eyebrows. He looks utterly broken, and Mike immediately softens. “No that’s, that’s good, Will. I just don’t know.”
Will doesn’t respond. He picks his spoon up and returns to his now soggy cereal. Mike takes his empty bowl to the sink. He turns around and looks at Will, who is avoiding his gaze. “I guess you’re right. We can’t just do this everyday. My parents would probably force me back to school if they were here.
Will looks down at his shoes. His mom and Hopper didn’t have the wherewithal to make him go, either. Hopper suggested it once, Will had said no, and that was that.
“Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe after Christmas we can go back, or something. You’re right about things having to change. I’m just–I’m not really ready yet.”
“I’m not ready either, Mike.” Will looks up at him, eyes searching Mike’s face. “But if we just stay like this forever–” He falters. “Are you going, um, out again today?” He emphasizes the word, and Mike feels a pang of guilt. Will wants to help, wants to know where Mike has been going during the day.
“No, you’re right. Um, yeah, I’m gonna go.” He pauses, and Will continues to study him. He can tell Will doesn’t want to be alone, but he won’t say so. He hadn’t been talking about things with Mike the way he used to. Ever since his confession to the group at the squawk, he had been careful around Mike. He doesn’t understand, though. Will should know that he would never treat him differently just because he was, well, different. Hadn’t he said as much on the radio tower in the upside down?
But he had noticed since then that Will’s movements, his words, his expressions around Mike always seemed measured, carefully considered. Deliberate. He found any excuse to put physical distance between them, reacting like he had been burned if Mike touched him even accidentally. Mike didn’t want anything to be different between them, but he couldn’t help if Will was the one acting differently.
Maybe he should talk to Will and try to fix whatever had shifted between them, but he didn’t have it in him right now. He looks at the ground before saying “I’ll see you when I get back, though. I probably won’t even be long.”
Will nods. “Yeah no, sure, of course. Um, whatever you need. If I’m crowding your space in the basement–”
“You’re not, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here. Especially, you know, at night. I’m just gonna go out by myself for a bit.”
Mike can’t meet Will’s questioning gaze. He makes his way out of the kitchen to the garage, pulls his bike from where he had dropped it yesterday, and kicks off hard. His mind wanders as he weaves a familiar path.
He hopes he hadn’t upset Will, and it does feel weird to be out by himself when they’d previously been inseparable. Sharing space, eating meals, sleeping in the basement, and just being together. And it’s been so nice to not be alone, Mike thinks, but it’s more than that. It’s been so nice to have Will, his best friend since forever, to keep him company. Being around Will makes everything feel calm, and even a little bit lighter. Like he’s sharing the load instead of carrying it alone.
Mike wants to believe that the awkwardness that had settled over them when Will lived in California had been fixed. He certainly felt fine about it. They spent so much time together but still hadn’t really talked about anything. Mike should clear the air. He adds it to his mental to-do list so he can ignore it along with every other task he’s thought of in the last two weeks.
Mike tugs his breaks abruptly. He’d been lost in his own mind and hadn’t realized he’d arrived at his destination. Hopper’s cabin was depressingly desolate, even though it had only been two weeks since its inhabitants had moved into the Wheeler’s broken house. Mike was pretty sure they were hiding at his house, probably avoiding this place. El haunted every corner of the cabin, and they couldn’t face that yet. So, they had packed bags, and nailed a sheet into the wall to cover the gaping hole Ted Wheeler had been thrown through. Jonathan had cleared the splinters of wood out of Mike’s carpet and was sleeping in his bed now, since he and Nancy weren’t sharing hers anymore. Mike preferred the basement anyway.
Days ago, when he had first found himself here, Mike had felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest. It was like no time had passed. El’s tub was still full from the last time she used it. Mike had sat on the rim for over an hour, in the exact spot where he had sat talking to El just two weeks ago about the happy ending he felt sure they would all live to see. He’d stayed there until his entire lower extremities went numb and he’d had to massage feeling back into his toes.
Now, he simply dips his fingers into the icy water before stumbling towards El’s room.
It almost feels like she could still be here. Her training outfit; gray sweats, red shorts, blue bandana, were covered in dirt, still in the hamper. A photo strip from the day she and Max spent at the mall was taped to a mirror on top of her desk. Mike avoided looking at himself, not wanting to see the deep purple underneath his eyes, or his unbrushed hair that hadn’t been washed in days. He felt El’s presence like an ache, but Will was right. He couldn’t stay like this forever. Only he had no idea how to keep that from happening. Coming here wasn’t even something he originally planned, he’d just kept finding himself here.
He lays back on El’s bed and stills. He watches the sun make its way across the sky, and doesn’t make a move until it begins to set.
Mike slumps down to the basement when he arrives home, finding Will sketching at the table next to a heaping plate of chicken and assorted vegetables. He doesn’t look up when Mike enters, not hearing him, and Mike pauses on the stairs, watching Will touch pencil to paper in quick, gentle movements. He takes in the relaxation in Will’s posture, unaware he is being observed, unguarded. The stiffness in his limbs that has become constant over the last few weeks has melted away. His face is set in the way it always is when he draws– the corners of his mouth turned down, eyes squinted, lips parted slightly. Will’s focus is always so intense when he's drawing. Mike almost feels like he's intruding on something personal, almost intimate. But that’s stupid, because he’s only drawing and plus, Will is his best friend and he’s already established nothing has changed between them.
Mike shakes away these thoughts and asks “Did I miss dinner?”
Will startles, face reddening, tilting his sketchbook away from Mike with an air of being caught.
Mike frowns, “What’s that?”
“Nothing! I– sorry, um, yeah, you missed dinner. I– I saved you a plate. It’s probably cold now, but– yeah. Sorry. Um–” Will leans his sketchbook further away from Mike’s attempts to peer at whatever he’s working on. “It was good, uh, you should heat it up, though.” Will flips his sketchbook closed entirely and stands “I can do it for you, if you want.”
Before Mike can respond, Will grabs the plate and nearly runs up the stairs, taking his sketchbook with him. Mike follows, confused.
The plate is already in the microwave when Mike reaches the kitchen. “Will? Um, are you okay?”
“Yeah! I– sorry. I’m fine.” Will’s hands fidget nervously with the dishtowel on the counter as he deliberately stares at the timer on the microwave. “Sorry” he says again.
“No, it’s cool. You don’t have to keep apologizing. I was just– um, what are you drawing?” Mike knows Will can feel him looking, trying to meet his gaze, but his eyes remain glued to the microwave.
“Nothing– Nothing secret or weird, I just, you startled me, is all.” Will abandons the dishtowel and starts picking at a small hole in his sweater. “Sorry” he says yet again. “Um, how was your– trip?”
Mike’s eyes flit to the sketchbook nestled under Will’s arm, but he decides to allow the change of subject. “Um, it was fine. Fresh air, you know.” He didn’t know why he kept his visits to the cabin a secret from Will. They never kept secrets from each other.
Except that one huge secret Will had kept.
The microwave beeps, and Will places the steaming plate on the table. Usually, he would sit, but Mike can tell he’s still feeling awkward about whatever just happened between them.
‘I think I might–” He eyes the basement door, “just go down and get ready for bed.”
Mike glances at the clock above the stove. It’s only 7:00 PM. The sun hadn’t even set yet. “Oh, uh, okay.”
Will turns towards the basement.
“Actually, can you maybe stay?” Mike blurts out, and at the top of the basement stairs, Will freezes. He turns to Mike, looking apprehensive, tugging at the sketchbook underneath his arm. “Just– you don’t have to tell me what you’re working on. I’ll drop it. But, could you stay?”
Will’s eyes search his face, and he softens, shoulders relaxing as he lets out an exhale. Mike realizes how tense he’d been a moment ago. “Yeah, sure, Mike.” He takes the seat across from Mike and a familiar silence falls between them. Their silences were usually comfortable, but now, the air feels charged with unspoken words. Mike doesn’t have much to say, but Will’s presence still has a calming effect on him. They don’t speak until Mike finishes eating.
“Thanks. For uh–for staying.” Mike stands and walks over to the sink. As he passes Will’s chair, he puts his hand on Will’s shoulder without thinking. Will flinches, and Mike feels his shoulder stiffen under his hand. He quickly removes it. “Oh, um, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay, sorry, um, yeah, no problem.” A soft pink has risen in Will’s cheeks, and he turns away from Mike to head towards the basement stairs. Mike stands in the kitchen, trying to piece together whether he had done something wrong, before he realizes exhaustion is settling over him. He follows Will down the stairs.