Chapter Text
It was a hot, late September evening. Even though the approaching winter was near, the heat hadn’t faded away yet. It was also raining. It would surely be one of the last hot summer rains of 1979.
Today was different in the Wheeler’s house. His father was out of town because of a business trip, and Nancy was at a sleepover with friends. Mike had never seen the house so… isolated. Only Mike and his mom were home.
Mike was sitting on the left side of the table in the dining room, right in the center. He was trying to do his new math homework—basic multiplications—but his brain wouldn’t let him. Two days ago, he had had a sleepover with Will, his best friend. They had many, all the time, and every single one was even better than the last one.
They had just finished making the characters for this game Mike’s parents had bought him a week ago: Dungeons and Dragons. D&D, for short. Mike had proclaimed himself as the Dungeon Master, and he was about to finish plotting their first-ever campaign.
Only a few things kept Mike so deep in concentration: Will, his favorite TV show, and now, D&D. When Mike was—finally—finding the way to escape the cave of the Hydra, his mother interrupted him.
—Mike! — A female voice yelled from the kitchen—How's the homework going? — He snapped back to reality just then.
— Huh? Oh! Um… Great! I, uh… I’m almost finished! — That was a lie. He had only finished three out of fifteen exercises.
— Really? Let me see. — She said as she approached Mike, cleaning her wet hands with an old cloth.
Mike immediately grabbed his homework paper and pushed it against his chest as he screamed.
—NO!!!
— What’s wrong? Michel, give it to me. — His mother used that voice when she was warning him to not do wrong. And if he didn’t oblige, God knows what could happen. So instead of risking his life, he gave the unfinished paper to his mom with certain hesitation.
His mom grabbed it, giving him the “well done!” stare. She didn’t look at it for long, since there wasn’t much to look at.
A long sigh came out of her—Mike, this is due tomorrow, and you told me you didn’t need any help with it.
— I know, Mom, and I can do it, but it’s so boring… I don’t wanna do it. — He tried to convince his mom, even though it surely wouldn’t work anyway. Another sigh came from her.
— I know you’d rather do many other entertaining things, but this is your only responsibility in this house. Just do it—that was not the first time his mom had to say that. Actually, pretty much every time Mike came home with any schoolwork, she had to say the damned speech.
It’s not like he couldn’t do it. He just didn’t want to. Why did he have to do this instead of having fun? It didn’t make any sense!
His mom gave the paper back, and Mike, with a sigh, started working again. He thought that instead of doing this garbage, he’d rather be out, hanging out with Will. He’d rather finish writing his campaign. He’d rather do many other things than this.
When he was finally reaching the last exercise, someone knocked on the front door. It wasn’t usual to have people come to his house this late. Maybe his mother had invited some friends over to drink wine and catch up on the latest gossip around town. Or it could also be the mailman, who forgot to stop by his house earlier this morning. Perhaps—
— Coming! — His mom yelled, loud enough to be heard from the outside and make Mike lose his train of thought.
Mike decided it wouldn’t be anything important, so he headed back to his almost-finished homework. He was finishing writing the answer to the last exercise when his mom opened the front door.
— Will? — Mike stops writing the moment he hears the very well-known name. There was a certain warmth in her voice, but also a significant amount of confusion and pity. The charming voice was barely used for Mike. Or really anyone from the Wheeler family.
She only ever used it for homeless people in the streets asking for money or stray dogs searching for food inside a trash can. And also will. Mike didn’t understand why. Will had a house to sleep in and a pair of parents to cook for him whenever he was hungry.
Mike snapped out of his mind when he heard Will start sniffing and whimpering. He threw his pencil to God knows where and jumped out of his chair. In less than a second, he was beside his mom. Both of them had the same worried face. She was scrunched on her knees, holding the door. This way, Mike wasn’t even a foot taller than her.
In front of them there was Will, crying and bawling his eyes out, looking at the floor. He was shivering under the pouring rain, and his nose and cheeks were flushed. He was in his Superman pajamas, the ones he wore two days ago. He didn’t have anything to cover himself up with, so he was totally drenched.
He looked frightened, like he had seen a ghost in the woods, but also tired… His eyes were red from what Mike guessed was crying for a long time.
Mike wanted to make him come in, change him into some new clothes, and make him get warm. Mike wanted to take him into a hug, soothe him until he wasn’t crying anymore, and ask him, “What happened?” Mike wanted to cuddle with him until both fell asleep. The only thing he ever wanted most until now was to make Will feel okay.
But the only thing that left his mouth was a simple—Will…
Mike was petrified. What could have happened that made Will be in such a state? He had never seen Will like this ever before. It made him feel a type of fear and anger he wished he never had to experience again.
— Will… Sweetheart… What happened? Oh, dear… Does your mother even know you’re here? Sigh… Come inside, let’s get you warm, okay? — Mike’s mom stood back up and stepped back so Will could come over. Will walked inside like an abandoned, wet dog.
Meanwhile, his mom went inside for a towel for Will. He rubbed his eye, which made Mike notice how much his hands were shaking. To stop it, Mike grabbed his hand when Will passed next to him. Will noticed, and he suddenly stopped walking to look back at Mike. His eyes were confused, yet happy that he wasn’t alone anymore. Mike smiled at him with the type of warmth he had reserved only for Will. In return, Will relaxed his face and smiled back at him. Luckily, Will wasn’t shaking anymore.
— Will! Sweetie! Can you come here, please? — They listened to his mom, and with their hands intertwined, they went to the living room. Over there, Mike’s dad’s armchair, prepared for Will, was fully covered in towels. Behind it, Mike’s mother had a towel in her hands, waiting for Will. —You can sit here. Ted’s not at home right now, so don’t worry, he won’t mind. — She finished the sentence with a wink and a smile, trying to make Will comfortable, even though at this point it was almost his second house.
He did so without a complaint, without ever letting go of Mike’s hand. Just then Mrs. Wheeler noticed; she didn’t think it was weird or strange; it was rather endearing, even though she knew many wouldn’t agree.
She began moving the towel softly around Will’s head, trying to dry up the drenched bowl cut. Awful bowl cut, she had to say, but she did know that the Byers couldn't do anything else about it, so she kept the comment inside her mind.
— Do you want anything to eat? I was about to make dinner and maybe some tea; I can make some for you if you'd like. — Will nodded in agreement. He had never been a talkative boy, unlike Mike. It was a bit concerning at the beginning of his and his son’s relationship, but she got used to it in no time. On the other hand, Mike had been carefully watching Will's face, checking if his mother was making him uncomfortable. Will just stared at the floor. — Good, after dinner I will call your mom and inform her you're here, warm and safe.
Will's face had changed. Now he had the same expression he had when he knocked on the door. He was scared. He started to get alarmed all over again and shook his head. Now his grip was tighter on Mike’s hand, and he squeezed back, trying to make him settle down.
— Mom, stop. He doesn’t want to.
His mom frowned and moved the towel out of the way so she could see him clearly. — You don’t want me to call your mom? Why? — She asked, now facing the smaller boy.
— M-my dad will… sniff… Mad-d and an-angry. Again… — Mike didn’t understand why he was so scared of his dad, but he figured it was a question for another time. His mom’s face fully softened, and even though he didn’t, she looked as if she knew the full story from the start.
— Fine… I’ll call her later. But you are staying here, okay? If your mom doesn’t come for you, you can sleep here. Is that right? — He nodded back to finish the conversation. He was more relaxed now but still a bit alarmed.
A few moments later, Mrs. Wheeler stopped the towel on his head and folded it on her arms as she went back to the kitchen—you're finished! I’m going to keep cooking. Mike, can you get him a pair of dry clothes and slippers? If he doesn’t get changed, he might catch a cold!
— On my way! — He pulled from their joined hands, and when Will got back onto his feet, he started leading the way up to his bedroom.
When they got inside, Mike hesitantly let go of Will’s hand. Meanwhile Mike was searching for pajamas Will would be comfortable in; he started looking around the room. He hadn’t gone up there in a long time, since Ted forbade them from being up there alone because “two boys shouldn’t be in a bedroom without supervision”. Even though he tried to, Will didn’t understand why that was such a problem. Everyone’s parents slept together in the same room. Why couldn’t Mike and he do it? They spent all their time together in the basement or outside on their bikes anyway.
He started moving and sniffing around. He quickly noticed some of the paintings he had gifted Mike up on the walls. His bed was bigger now, and the curtains had a different blue pattern. Apart from the mess everywhere, nothing had really changed drastically. For some reason, it brought Will some type of comfort.
— Here! — Mike yelled, making Will realize he shouldn’t be sniffing around so much. Mike didn’t look like he cared anyway. When he was in front of him, he had some pajamas and a clean pair of socks prepared for him. They were flatly folded, which meant they hadn’t been used for a while. They were surely not Mike’s size anymore, but everybody knows how much he finds it difficult to let go of his things.
Will took the clothes out of Mike’s hands. Now Will wasn’t dripping water around, but he still was fully wet nonetheless. They were watching into each other’s eyes. Mike was just smiling at his friend, and Will was doing the same. At some point, Will started looking around, and Mike realized he had to change into certain clothes. He snapped back to reality and cut the silence—Oh! Ummm, you can change yourself in here if you want to; I’ll turn around, don’t worry. — When he finished talking, he went to the left side of the room and sat down, staring at the wall with a built-in closet.
Then he heard Will starting to take off his clothes and putting on the new ones. He quickly fell back into thought: what could they do during this sleepover? They had many things to do, like starting their campaign or watching “Return from Witch Mountain,” but today didn’t feel like one of their usual sleepovers. They didn’t have anything planned, and Will wasn’t feeling as good as always.
Not only that, but they also had to talk. Mike needed Will to vent to him. Not only because Mike didn’t understand anything about what happened at Will’s house, but because Mike could feel the burden Will needed to unload. He wasn’t the best with words, nor the best at listening. But Will was an exception.
Shortly after, a smiling Will was beside him, sat on the bed, and changed into some gray-striped pajamas. —Hi.
—Hi. Are you feeling better?
— Yeah. Thank you. I didn’t have a-anywhere else to go.
— And why is that? Will, you know you can tell me anything, right?
—Y-yeah, of course. Friends don’t lie.
—Exactly, friends don’t lie. That’s why I need you to be honest with me. I’m not smart like you; I just… I don’t understand why you’re talking about your home as if it were hell. — Will’s beautiful smile slowly faded away, and a sad frown grew on his face. He took a deep breath to try to prevent the tears from earlier from coming back.
— Mike… I-
— BOYS! DINNER’S READY! — Mike’s mom interrupted Will, screaming from the kitchen.
—COMING! — Mike replied, annoyed. He turned his face to Will with a way softer voice than the one he used a second ago.—Can we keep talking after dinner?
—Yeah.
— Cool.
They gave each other a reassuring smile before getting up from the bed. Mike waited for Will at the door while Will picked up the wet clothes from Mike’s chair. The way down through the staircase was silent. When they reached the dining room, the food was already served. It smelled like heaven.
Mike’s mom had made her famous pork stew. The sweet boiled vegetable smell filled the house, making both Will’s and Mike’s stomachs growl. The coordination made everybody chuckle. Mike sat in the same seat as earlier this evening. Will sat next to him out of costume.
He was watching the meal starvingly. Mike wasn’t much different; this was his favorite meal ever, but he only ate it a few times every year because of the effort it took his mom to make it. She had already been seated when they went downstairs, and mercifully, she finally allowed them to start eating.
Both were finished soon, and luckily Karen had enough for another two portions. She watched them as they enjoyed her stew. — I’m guessing you both loved it?
—Yes. Thanks a lot, Mrs. Wheeler.
— Huh? Oh yeah, I love you, Mom. Thank you,— Mike said after slurping the last drop of broth. That earned a chuckle from Will.
— I’m happy you liked it. — She redirected her attention to the unexpected guest
— Will?
— Yes?
— How are you doing now?
— Oh… — His eyes darkened a little as he doubted what to answer. —Um… I’m better. And, uh, warmer, heh. Thank you a lot. Again.
She smiled warmly at him—I'm glad you are feeling better now. — He returned the smile back at her almost immediately. When everyone was finished, Karen got up to do the dirty dishes.
The two kids were left alone. Mike noticed Will was still feeling a bit wary; it must have been Mike’s mom's question, because it reminded Will of whatever had happened back home.
To light him up, Mike started ranting about their almost-finished campaign. Luckily, it worked. Mike got to see Will’s spark come back.
His pupils started to grow, making his eyes shine with pure happiness. His whole face lifted, and where there used to be a frown, now there were a pair of relaxed eyebrows sitting over his eyes. His mouth drew a slight curve, and between his lips, his mouth parted, exposing his cute bunny teeth.
Mike’s heart skipped a beat at the sight. He felt the heat rising up from his neck to his cheeks. He forced himself to look away, his eyes landing on his mom, who was walking to the dining table with a cup of steaming tea in each hand.
— I hope you enjoy it! — She says she put down the cups in front of them. Mike went straight up to hold it in his hands, without thinking about the high temperature it held.
— Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! Dang it! It burns! — He said as he put back down his cup on the table, while in the other hand, Will was blowing off the steam out of the cup.
— Michel! Language! — The mother yelled from all the way back to the kitchen sink full of dirty dishes.
— Sorry! — Mike yelled back. This house is like a blasting speaker, Will thought. The thought made Will burst out laughing. — Hey! Don’t laugh! It’s not funny! — He lied as he joined Will. Between laughs and smiles he said, Shut up! I’ve burned my hands!
That made Will slowly stop laughing and slightly turn around to be facing Mike. He smiled at Mike, and Mike smiled back, confused. With only a look, Will asked for permission, and Mike nodded in agreement. Will carefully took Mike’s hand into his own. They were cold, as always, opposite from Mike. Mike’s hands began to cool off, the redness fading away. When they were back to their usual aspect, Will finally broke the silence—Good?
— Yeah. Good—Mike was happy that Will had started speaking throughout the last months. He did sometimes stutter or forget words, but now they could have actual normal conversations about their favorite topic of the moment. It’s not like they couldn’t communicate before, but this was better, easier. He did miss the old days, though.
It was Mike who did all the talking back then, and even though he loves listening to Will’s raspy voice, he also loved talking without anyone interrupting. He is selfish, he knows, but it felt good to talk and ramble without anyone judging him and them actually listening. Will did participate in the conversation, somehow; sometimes Mike even had to force him to do something apart from staring at him. Mike had lived waiting for it to be his turn to talk, and most of the time someone stole it, but with Will, he was free of talking turns, and he could let it all out. He misses the past, but it’s not worth it to have it back.
—Thank you, Will — Then their hands separated; he felt his hands freeze without Will’s touch, but he wasn’t going to acknowledge that. Instead of replying, Will bumped Mike's arm with Mike’s shoulder. Will was still learning. — We should start drinking the tea before it gets cold. Will agreed with a simple humph.
After finishing their hot beverage, Mike’s mom told him to change into some pajamas. When they reached Mike’s bedroom, Will noticed the neatly folded pajamas on his bed. Mike picked them up. — Will? Can you get the mattress from the basement while I get changed?
—But your d-dad says… two b-boys…
— Bah! Nonsense! Don’t listen to him; he’s old, stupid, and hates fun. He’s not home anyway.
— W-what about your mom?
— She’s cool. Really, don’t worry.
A smile grew on Will’s face—okay. — He shut the door behind him as he went downstairs.
He came into the basement and clicked the flickering light open. The mattress was easy to find; it was where we last left it. Now the problem was bringing it upstairs. He knew he was small for his age; he also knew he hadn’t ever brought it by himself. He tried to pick it up by the short side, but that only got him five steps away without almost falling forward. Then he tried the longer side, but it worked even worse.
He had tried almost every way possible when he was halfway through the basement stairs. He was panting, trying to catch his breath, and starting to sweat. He should ask for help from Mrs. Wheeler, but while going downstairs he saw her watching the TV, and she looked so relaxed, like she hadn’t sat down for days. But suddenly, the door fully opened with Mike’s standing figure. He looks like a guardian angel, Will thought.
— Need any help? — Both chuckled as Mike went lower down the stairs. He got an easy grip on the mattress and walked up the stairs again. Will was barely doing anything now. Why was it so easy for him? It wasn’t fair! At least he was a better artist than Mike. Someone once told him that if someone gave him a canvas and a few paints, he’d be able to do a museum-level painting. He never forgot the quote.
In what felt like less than a second, they were back upstairs. Will hadn’t noticed until now Mike’s change of clothes: he was wearing his Batman pajamas.
They decided to put the mattress beside the right side of Mike’s bed. They didn’t plan anything to do, apart from Will’s explanation, but that could wait. They ended up reading the comic they had left halfway. They sat next to each other, like always, but today in Mike’s bed, leaning against the headboard.
Time flew, and suddenly, two hours had passed. Through the minutes they had moved to make themselves more comfortable; now Mike was the only one holding the comic, and Will was leaning on Mike, resting his cheek against his shoulder. But Mike’s mom interrupted his son’s reading. — What?! That can’t be! We killed him like an hour ago.
— Hellooo… What are you doing? — His mom said as she slightly opened the door, just enough to be able to see them, Ohhh, reading comics, I see… I know you guys are having the best of funs, but it’s bedtime. Tomorrow you have school, and Will doesn’t have his stuff, so we’ll have to pass by his house early, alright?
—Noooo… Ten more minutes! We only have 7 pages left! — Mike complained, as always.
— You can do that any other time. But now it is time to sleep.
— Fine…
— Good. Goodnight, my loves! — Will noticed the plural. He suddenly felt like crying, but he didn’t.
— Goodnight! — Both friends said in unison.
Mike’s mom left as she closed the door. The other two were tired, so tired that they didn’t even want to move. They stayed still in the position they were in. Uncounted minutes passed. Neither of them talked; they were simply enjoying each other’s presence. Mike figured they had to go to sleep someday. — Do you want to go to sleep?
Will shook his head.
— Do you want to rest?
Will nodded.
Mike checked the alarm clock beside his bed; on its screen it said “09:34 PM.”
— Would you like to lie down, close the main light, but leave the small lamp on?
He hesitated at first, but then Will answered.
—Okay
Mike got up to shut off the lights; meanwhile, Will went for the pillow and blanket kept in Mike’s closet. Will was already lying down when Mike flicked off the main lamp on the ceiling; the only lights left were the small lamp beside his bed and the moon’s own light.
Silence settled as Mike lay on his own mattress. From Will's perspective on the floor, he could see him. He watched him moving in the bed until he finally settled. He was lying straight on his back, looking at the ceiling. He saw the cold moonlight cover Mike’s silhouette. Will watched Mike slowly closing his eyes, losing to the tiredness, his breath evened out, just like his own. But he couldn’t take his eyes out of his eyes. He needed to memorize how Mike looked at the moment. He had to draw it.
Ever since Will started making a hobby out of drawing and painting skills, he drew Mike all the time. It was his favorite thing to do. He also liked to draw other stuff: his dog, the valley, his mom, his brother… But Mike was the best one. Mike didn’t know this; he didn’t have to. Only he and his brother knew. He wished he was the only one, but Jonathan once saw him pulling out from under his bed a folder full of his favorite drawings, just in case Lonnie got into a destructive mood. Will didn’t expect him to come inside and accidentally throw the folder away, spilling mostly drawings of Mike Wheeler everywhere. Luckily, his brother was good at keeping secrets, and he promised to keep the secret.
— Are you awake? — The sudden voice startled him, and he lost his train of thought. Will answered quickly anyway.
— No.
— Are you sleepy?
— Meh.
A pause awoke again, but Mike ended it quickly after.
— Do you want to come over here?
…
— Yes.
Will made fabric noises as he got out of his blanket and stood. When he was on his feet, he saw Mike had moved over to one side of the bed, making space for him. He had lifted his own blanket so Will could fall into the warmth beneath it.
They were on each other’s backs, side by side, close enough so their arms were touching. A short silence came over once again, and like before, Mike was the one who ended it.
— Will?
— Mike.
— Can you tell me what happened before you came here? — Will shivered at the thought of it. — I know you don’t want to remember it, but I want to help you, and to be able to do that, I need to know what happened.
A sigh came out of Will. He was tired of today and wanted tomorrow to arrive already, but he could do this. He moved to lay on his side, not shortly after, Mike repeated. Now facing each other, faces less than a foot apart, Will started.
— My mom was in th-the kitchen. She was making dinner f-for my f-father, scrambled e-eggs. She’s never been that good of a co-cook, so some of the e-eggs came out a bit burned. — He could feel the tears stinging his eyes, he looked down so Mike wouldn’t notice, and kept going — Then my father came f-from work, a bottle of beer in hand. When he sat down a-and saw the meal, he looked at my mom and — Silent tears started to stream down his face — he-he just… started screaming, like a m-maniac. Sniff, My mom tried to calm him d-down, but then she started to f-fight back and eventually, my f-father hit the b-bottle with a table, gr-grabbed my mom by th-the neckline a-and-
He started to sob, words blocked in his throat. He cried as much as a newborn. When he stopped talking, he immediately took him into his arms, hugging him to protect him from the sorrows back at home. Will reacted by holding tightly to the fabric on his back.—Shh, it’s fine, you’re safe. — Mike whispered into his ear little nice things like that throughout the swallowed screams. Soon his shirt was dripping with tears, but he didn’t care. Will was more important than some stupid pajama shirt.
After what could have been either minutes or hours, Will stopped crying. The sad noises and the ragged breaths hadn’t quite faded away yet, but he was calmer now. He loosened the grip on Mike’s clothes, but he still wouldn’t let go. Mike decided to speak, trying to make Will feel not alone.
— I- I didn’t have any idea your father was like that, Will. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? — His voice was low, but not a whisper. He had his head over Will's; every time he breathed out, Will’s hair moved alongside the air.
— I d-don’t know. I didn’t w-want to make you w-worry. — Will honestly answered, his face pressed against Mike’s chest.
— Sigh, it’s fine. If you ever need to escape, you can come here, okay?
— Okay.
…
— Do you want to stay here or…?
A muffled —Please — came from Will a little bit too soon. Mike chuckled and finally spoke back.
— Cool. Goodnight, Will.
— Goodnight, Mike.
They stayed like that until sleep came for both of them; throughout the night none of them moved, until the sun arose and a new day started.