Chapter Text
“Alright, campaign’s over. You guys can go home and talk about girls and your relationship problems without my interruptions.”
Will packed up, throwing on his jacket and preparing to step into the hateful downpour outside. He didn’t want to leave the familiar comfort of Mike Wheeler’s basement, but he had to. He had to prove his point.
“No, Will that’s not what we meant.” Mike called after him. Will couldn’t just leave, could he? The campaign wasn’t done. They still had a dragon to kill and a town to save from total destruction. And Will, he couldn’t just walk out, he had spent so much time planning this, Mike feels awful.
“Yeah, yeah that’s exactly what you meant by ‘hold on, Will we need to tell El that Mike is sorry.’ Or ‘No Will we cant play dnd right now because our girlfriends dumped us and now we have to get them back.’”
He’s right. This was all they had been talking about for the past couple days. But can you blame them?
Mike needed El back because having her as a girlfriend was the one thing that shielded him from insults from Troy and his goonies. If he had a girlfriend he wouldn’t be called gay anymore.
Because Mike wasn’t gay, right?
Staring at Will Byers day and night and knowing every curve of his face and the way his doe brown eyes would sparkle when he would get and idea or a new interest doesn’t make him gay, right?
Thinking Will is pretty and wanting to take his face in his hands and kiss him doesn’t make him gay, right?
Okay, fine.
Mike was gay. He was so gay and he loved Will Byers. And he knows it’s wrong and disgusting but he can’t help it. He doesn’t know how to help it.
So Mike followed Will up the stairs and out the door of the garage, telling him meaning less things like:
“Will we didn’t mean it that way.”
And
“Will I’m so sorry.”
Until Mike finally said something that made Will stop.
“I’m sorry, Will we just aren’t in the mood right now, we’ve got a lot on our minds.”
Will whirled, years of anger and sadness mixed on his face and rolling from his eyes.
“Yeah, that’s the problem, Mike. Your never in the mood anymore. It’s always El this, El that. Do you ever think about anything else anymore?”
Gone was the little boy who wouldn’t ever lie to Mike, too pure, too innocent. Replacing him was this rain-soaked boy with half a jacket sleeve on and hot tears running down his face.
When Mike didn’t respond Will foraged on, determined to break him.
“You never want to be with me anymore, I was your best friend, Mike. And now? You ignore me, and for what, so you can swap spit with some stupid girl?”
That hit hard. And that blow was enough for Mike to find his voice.
“El’s not stupid! It’s not my fault you don’t like girls.” Mike stopped. He knows he didn’t mean that. He knows what that can be perceived as. And he hates it. He’s taking all of the self hated he built up over the years and projecting it on the boy he loves.
Why is he doing this?
The simple answer: He hates himself. He hates his face, for which his middle school nickname, ‘frog face’ came from. He hates his hair. Which always looks wrong. He hates his stupid brain for falling in love with somebody who could never love him back.
“I-what I meant to say is that it’s not my fault I don’t like girls.”
Alright. Now he’s made it worse.
So he does the only thing he knows how to do. He runs.
He runs to his room, where Will’s painting and drawings from over the years hang on his walls and taunt him. ‘He hates you,’ they say. ‘He doesn’t like you back and never will.’
So Mike paces for hours, or until the sun peeks over the horizon. Then he checks the clock. 10:00 am. He throws on new clothes, though they were just sitting on the floor so there’s a solid chance they are not new, and leaves the house.
The rain has dried up as he bikes to Starcourt. He doesn’t even know who he wants to talk to but he’ll settle on anybody at this point.
He locks his bike in the rack. The same rack where El dumped him two days prior. He walks into the crowded mall and wanders aimlessly for maybe a solid ten minutes before deciding on going to the food court. He has no money but something might cheer him up.
He spots Robin, the girl who works with Steve chatting drily with some teenage girls who walked into scoops.
He speed-walks over to her.
“Hey, Robin, can we chat for a minute?”
“Yes, fine.” Her dry response makes his spirits deflate after the joy of seeing someone he knew. “Steve!” She called out behind her “Mind the shop will ya?” Steve’s head poked out from behind a counter and his eyes flowed with the opportunity to talk to some girls.
She tossed him the ice cream scooper and he gave Mike a wink as Robin practically dragged him into the break room.
“Okay, spill it, mini Wheeler, Steve might die out there.” Her tone of absolute boredom was gone and Mike thinks that she might just be delighted to not be talking to those girls anymore.
“Okay. Will, you know Will right?”
“Yup, he usually only comes in with you or the other kids in your little group. Bowl cut, right?”
Mike smiles at the thought of the bowl cut that he so commonly associates with Will. And then the smile knits back into a worried frown as he remembers how angry Will was with him last night.
“So, Will and I, kind of got into a fight?”
As Mike retells the story of last night, he looses his composure more and more until-
“Robin I don’t want to lose him! He’s my best friend and I don’t know what I would do if he wasn’t there!”
Robin, who had, surprisingly been patient and listened the whole story was gentle when she reassured him.
“Mike. I don’t know exactly why you came to me about this but I do know that you won’t lose Will over this. You two are practically glued at the hip every time I see you. That boy can’t live without you as much as you can’t live without him.”
Robins dry humor soothed the aching inside Mikes chest that had started to begin every time he thought of Will.
“Really?” He asked.
“Yes, Mini Wheeler, really.”
And that was the courage he needed.