Chapter Text
“Darling you’ve got to let me know; Should I stay or should I go?”
Mike and Will sit together, leaning their backs against Will’s soon-to-be unmade bed, next to his things that will soon be packed up in cardboard boxes, his DND books, His old comic books, all the things that Mike has been surrounded by anytime he went to the Byers’ house over the years. They don’t say anything, they simply sit there, listening, their arms touching and feeling the rise and fall of each other’s chest as they breathe.
Soon, Mike will be in this house for the last time. And soon, Will will move away to Lenora, and God, Mike really hopes that Will won’t forget about him. They sit and take in the music, as will quietly hums along. Suddenly, a memory comes back to Mike.
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Mike is fuming right now; his best friend is dead. Dead. Gone. Forever. And he was given false hope by a random mental girl who probably escaped from Pennhurst. Tears run down his cheek as he sits in the basement, looking at will’s old drawings and reveling in his sadness and despair. Suddenly, he hears feedback. Feedback from his walkie talkie radio that he used to communicate with his friends. Eleven. Messing with the equipment he was talking happily to will on just 7 days ago. “Can you please stop?” He asks, bitterness dripping from his words. El looks at him for a second, seemingly understanding, but then goes right back to it. “Are you deaf?!” Mike exclaims, a kind of anger and sadness, and fury in his voice all at once. “I thought we were friends, y’know? And friends tell each other the truth. And they definitely don't lie to each other.” Mike feels a kind of heat rising in his chest, and angry, enraged kind of heat. The kind of heat that could burn all of Hawkins down if he let it. “You made me think Will was OK. That- he was still out there, but he wasn't. he wasn't.” El looks at him helplessly, but doesn't say anything. This makes part of mike want to apologize, but he doesn't his best friend is still dead, and Eleven made him think that wasn't the case. “Maybe you thought you were helping, but you weren't. You hurt me. Do you understand? What you did sucks.” A silence haunts the room for a split second as another squeak of feedback drips into the room, like a toxic sludge. “Lucas was right about you. All along.” El looks at him, no remorse or anything readable in her eyes. He looks back to the drawings and keeps shuffling through, watching all wills drawings, knowing he won't get to see a new one. The crackle of electricity and glitchy feedback continues as he shuffles, and suddenly he hears a voice. A weak, timid voice.
“So c’mon and let me know, should I stay or should I go?”
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Will’s soft humming along fills mikes thoughts again, and he reaches for wills hand, intertwining his fingers with his and squeezing wills hand.
He’s here. He’s been here. Will isn’t dead. He’s not in the upside down. He’s here.
Mike reminds himself in his head. He admires Will, his closed eyes and soft smile as he hums along to his favorite song. His hair is slightly longer than it was a few months ago, and he looks, peaceful. It's a nice change after all the shit they had to go through over the past couple years. He looks... Beautiful. Wait-what? Beautiful? That’s not what he meant... How can you say the wrong thing in your own mind? Mike thinks. It's best not to think about it that much. Will softly squeezes Mike’s hand back in his, and Mike feels heat rise into his cheeks. The song ends and fades out as Mikes thoughts turn into words before he can process them. “Hey will?” He says softly, almost like a whisper, like he’s preserving the words. “Yeah, Mike?” Mike’s name coming out of Will’s mouth feels sweeter then all his other words, like it always has, for as long as mike can remember. “I would have switched spots with you y’know? Like, if I could.” Will opens his eyes and looks concerned, furrowing his brows as he gives Mike a soft look that gives Mike butterflies. “In the upside down. If it were you or me, I'd be trapped there.” Mike explains as he smiles slightly. “Mike, don’t think things like that.” Will frowns. “I would go through it all again if it meant you didn't have to.” Will smiles the same way Mike did as they switch faces, mike frowning. “And you don't think things like that.” Mike gets slightly louder than the almost whisper they’d been talking in before. Will chuckles softly as he elbows Mike’s side, Mike being nudged slightly to the other side of will as he winds up to return the gesture.
“Boys! Lunch time!” Joyce yells from the kitchen. Will stands up quickly, extending his hand out to help up Mike, being bathed by the sun streaming in from Will’s curtains. The sun hit his hazel eyes perfectly, adding a highlight to his big doe eyes. Mike puts his hand in wills, feeling the warmth of his skin. He’s always enjoyed warmth after the mind flayer invaded his body, so he was always warm to the touch. Mike secretly liked it, and would hold his hand longer. They had always held hands, nobody had ever commented on it, aside from maybe Mikes father once or twice, but they were best friends, its not like they were doing it in a weird way. Mike got wrapped up in his thoughts again. Why am I justifying this to MYSELF? It's not weird, I know that. They walked to the dining table together, El already sitting there, eating an Eggo waffle sandwich, a new way Joyce and hopper invented a few months ago to get El to eat more nutrients. It was two Eggo waffles, a hamburger patty, scrambled eggs, cheese, and secretly a few pieces of broccoli hidden in there, however Joyce would never admit that to El. Will and Mike sat down at the table next to El as Joyce slides an Eggo sandwich down for each of them. Mike takes a bite at the same time will did, in sync as they eat. They have a pleasant conversation with El, (Mike is surprised things are this chill with El after their breakup, even with almost dying together.) and she talks about her dreams and her questions about the world. (She has so many questions to catch up on.)
Once they both finish within seconds of each other, Mike proposes a change of scenery. “Hey will, why don’t we go to my house? I just got this new really cool new comic book series.” Will smiles at Mike warmly as he starts speeding up as he walks to the door. “Race Ya!” He exclaims, and Mike quickly chases after him. They hop on their bikes as Joyce yells after them to be safe. They laugh the whole way to Mike’s house, and when they finally reach the door to Mike’s house, they can barely breathe from the amount of laughter they had just squeezed out of their lungs. They walk inside, savoring every moment with each other, because soon it would be limited, and soon he would have to catch a flight just to see will again. Mike leads the way up to his room, footsteps thumping in time with wills up the stairs. He picks up this new comic book, probably some sort of knockoff, but neither of them seemed to care, every comic was unique anyways. Mike plopped on top of his bed, one of his legs overlapping the other, in a “crisscross applesauce" way that they learned in kindergarten. Will followed shortly after, sitting slightly behind Mike, leaning his head on Mike’s shoulders. Mike’s face turns red, and something twists in his stomach.
Why is he feeling this way all of a sudden? He never felt this way before when will made simple contact with him. What was wrong with him? Or maybe he felt that way all along, but never realized it until now, until a few days before will left for a new place, a new town outside of Hawkins, outside of his world. Outside of their world. They read, at the same pace, so that Mike doesn't even have to ask if he can turn the page. Eventually, it gets dark outside, and Will has to leave. “I don’t want to worry my mom.” He says with a sheepish smile as he walks out of the wheeler’s door at 6:30pm. After Will leaves, Mike feels a sudden feeling of emptiness, of hollowness.
Holy shit. What is this goddamn feeling?