Chapter Text
Mike could feel that icky feeling again, rising up his throat and threatening to spill. His heart constricted, tightening uncomfortably, his ribs feeling too small for his frame. The imminent feeling of his heart bursting out of his chest and his lungs constricting from the force of it.
He felt the buzz from his chest vibrate down to his hands, which were going numb, squeezing them open and closed just to get feeling in them again.
“I don’t like girls”
Will said it with a waver in his voice, tears welling up in his eyes. Picking at his sleeves with hands, wrinkling the edges of the hems with his fingers.
Mike replayed it in his head in slow motion. He watched, eyes glossy, as Jonathan got up to hug his brother, saying something about always being there for him. Then Lucas got up, reaching out too, then everyone got up, everyone but him. He stood up realizing he’d been zoning out while his best friend laid his very soul out in front of everyone they knew.
“Me too.” He said, pouring as much care as he could into the words. He stood up almost too quickly, taking a step, then another, trying to remember to walk normally. He reached his arms out, wrapping them around the huddled bodies of people surrounding Will.
As everyone pulled away, his gaze lingered on Will who was still very much not okay. Will reached his gaze, his eyes saying too much and not enough. Mike could still feel his heart hammering in his chest, ribs aching. Too aware of his body.
He could feel the distance between them, not just physically. He wanted to reach out, tell him everything was okay. He knew he couldn't. Too scared he’d give everything away, give Will everything.
He offered a smile despite himself and Will almost offered one back, tearing his gaze away like looking at Mike had burned him. Mike tried counting his breaths, doing his best to stay afloat just long enough for everyone to clear the room. Long enough for him to slip into the bathroom without anyone noticing.
Slowly, as everyone filtered out, getting ready to fight Vecna, Mike made his way to the WSQK bathroom.
He shut the door behind him quietly, turning on the light then softly clicking the lock to the left, locking himself in.
The room felt extremely claustrophobic yet comforting. He made his way to the sink, pulling the handle to the faucet all the way on full blast. The white noise doing little to calm his loud heartbeat he was sure everyone could hear despite being alone now.
He wrapped his arms around himself, squeezing lightly, as a sob tore through his throat. Unable to stop himself now, he cried. Loud and unfiltered.
His eyes and lungs burned. Barely able to keep up with the sobs escaping him to catch his breath.
He squeezed himself harder, rubbing his hands up and down his arms, trying his best to soothe himself. He wanted nothing more than a hug. A hug that he wouldn't allow himself to have, because he only wanted it from one person. A person who shouldn't be hugging him right now because he just spilled his guts and was more vulnerable than he'd probably been in his entire life. A person who looked at him like it hurt to look at him. A person he didn’t deserve.
It wasn't fair of Mike to make this about himself. He wasn't trying to. He wasn't making this about himself. That's why he slipped into the bathroom before anyone could notice. Why he turned the faucet on, in hopes it would muffle his choked sobs.
He hadn't cried like this since Will had been found that day. Not the real Will. A fake made by the government. He knows that now. But the dread was real. The way his world had stopped and turned grey.
Dustin, Lucas, El and him, hiding behind the flashing firetruck, breathless. The red and blue flashing lights, the stretcher leaving the water, his damp sweater that he always wore clinging to his unmoving body. His skin lacked the residual warmth he had; lacked any residual life.
The ride home from the lake was a blur, he fell, scraped his knees and hands. He didn't care enough, just hopped on his bike again and peddled until his legs and lungs burned.
“You know you can always talk to me, tell me anything.” His mom pulled him into a hug that night, combing her hands gently though his hair, leaving a light kiss on his damp forehead.
Another sob tore through his throat, leaving it raw and wet. He put his hand over his mouth, trying to stay quiet this time.
He couldn't even get a hug from his mom like he did last time. His mind lingered to the fluorescent lighting of the hospital. The blood all over Nancy. His moms blood is all over Nancy. He barely has time to process any of it. Too worried about Holly. About Will.
He flinched. His brain betrayed him again, always circling back to Will without meaning to.
He cried awhile longer, cried until his breaths stilled and his hands were no longer numb. He leaned against the wall and slumped down, his heart aching, feeling like he just ran a marathon. His body felt like it was carved through, leaving an empty husk.
He sat for a while, staring at nothing, listening to the white noise of the water.
He got up slowly, wrapping his hands around the edge of the sink to hoist himself up. Legs wobbly, he balanced himself there. He reached out and felt the warm water against his cold hands. He splashed water on his face, scrubbing harder than necessary, trying to remove any trace of tears and shame from his face. He put his hands under the water again, trying to get the feeling back into his nerves. He turned off the water, reaching for a paper towel to dry himself.
He took a deep breath, allowing the air to finally enter his lungs now that his ribs weren’t caging them in. He looked in the mirror and frowned. Shame welling in his heart and settling its way down to his stomach.
His face twisted in a way he didn’t want.
He wasn’t disgusted by Will’s confession. Not in the slightest. He actually felt relief, which is what triggered the disgust in himself. The ugly twist in his stomach.
He was relieved that his best friend was just like him, and what that meant. Which was wrong. Mike wasn’t allowed to be like this, it wasn’t natural. He had dated a girl. Not any girl, Jane, Will’s sister. He is supposed to like women. Think about them the way he did about his best friend.
His stomach lurched again.
Then the small voice pricked the back of his brain like a needle.
Is it wrong for Will to be like that? Unnatural for him too?
No.
Of course not.
Will was perfect, doesn’t matter who he likes.
Will is WIll.
He heard a faint knock at the door. He felt his blood turn to ice. He turned slowly, stepping and reaching for the locked doorknob.
“Who is it?’
A quiet, worried voice, crackled through the door, “Mike, it's me.”
Jane.
He unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Staring at her like he summoned her with his own thoughts.
“Hey,” He tried to say casually, but his voice was raw and rough around the edges. His eyes were puffy and rimmed with red. Jane was the worst person to be here. She’s always been too observant.
“Mike, are you okay? You’ve been gone for a while.”
Mike nodded too quickly, “I'm great. Just had to pee.’
The lie came out a little too easily, though it didn't come out convincingly.
Jane’s mouth twitched down into a frown. “Friends don’t lie.”
Now it was Mike's turn to frown, that stupid rule he made when he was 8, just so Dustin couldn't lie about stealing his halloween candy.
“Im not lying. I'm fine, really.” Trying better to sound convincing, and he wasn't completely lying. He was scraped raw and hollow, but he did feel better after crying.
She reached out and placed a hand on his forearm, the touch burning through the fabric of his shirt. “If you say so, just… be careful.” Mike nodded again, reaching out his hand to place it on hers. He rubbed his thumb over the knuckles of her fingers.
“I know. I will be. Is everyone ready to go?’ He offered a smile, letting the warmth of her hand ground him.
She smiled small, not quite reaching her eyes, “Yes, we are leaving now.”
They both let go and start to walk towards the other side of the WSQK. He can hear Lucas talking quietly to Max in the room over and Joyce talking to Will not as quietly, the worry in her voice apparent.
Mike swallowed, trying to get rid of the dryness in his throat.
-
The climb up was long and exhausting, his legs and arms feeling tingly as he climbed onto the platform. Will was just as winded as him, slinging his backpack off and grabbing his water bottle out.
Mike leaned against the railing with his hands, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath. He hears Will unscrew the cap of his water bottle, plastic scraping metal. He opened his eyes and glanced over at Will.
Will stood there, head tilted back, holding his water bottle up to his lips, his other hand holding the plastic cap. Mike kept staring despite himself, watched as Will's throat bobbed as he drank, water dribbling down the corner of his lip.
Mike licked his lips, suddenly very chapped and dry. Will lowered the bottle and wiped his mouth with his other hand with the back of his sleeve. He looked over, catching Mike’s gaze. His eyes widen, then he reaches out, offering the water.
“Thirsty?’ he asked sincerely.
Mike gulped, reaching out for the water and nodding. “Yeah, thanks.”
He tipped the rim onto his lips and tilted it up, drinking slowly. Swallowing down any shame he felt blatantly staring at his best friend.
He tipped the bottle back down, handing it back over to Will. Will reached out, grabbing it, hands brushing with the motion.
Mike's arm froze for a moment, mentally kicking himself he tries not to make a big deal of it.
Because it isn't a big deal. They've done it a million times before.
Will screws the cap back on and Mike lowers his arm as he watches again. The way Will’s hands move gracefully, but firm.
He looks away, trying not to get caught again. Will sets the bottle back into his bag and slings it around his shoulders again.
He mirrors Mike’s stance, placing his hands on the railing and leaning over.
Mike bites his lip as his mind wanders again. He thinks back to the confession, how scared Will looked. How much more confident Will seemed now. Like the weight had been lifted off his shoulders. No, like how he finally had help lifting the weight on his shoulders.
The guilt crept up his spine and tightened his throat.
Will was gay, and he told everyone out of fear of losing them due to Vecna.
And Mike had a panic attack because of it.
Not because he didn’t accept Will. But because it gave him a glimmer of hope. Hope of something he can't have because it wasn't right.
Even though he and Jane had broken up, even if it was okay for Will to be gay, even though he wanted nothing more than Will to walk over and hug him right now. It wasn't right.
Not for him. What would his mom say? His dad?
“See what happens, Michael?’ His dad’s voice echoed his ears. He was only twelve. Who says that to a twelve year old who just lost his best friend? Assholes do.
His dad was an ass. Why does it matter what he thinks?
Because it does matter, It's his dad.
What would he say if he found out about Will?
Anger bubbled in his stomach, if he even tried to say anything Mike would shoot him down. Yell at him. Will has had enough of that from his own awful father. He doesn't need it from Mike’s asshole of a father.
He sighed audibly, gripping the bars between his fingers until his knuckles turned white.
Will clears his throat, the sound tearing through the silence that had settled between them for who knows how long.
“You okay?’ Will asks carefully.
Mike hates it, hates that Will was worried about him. His face twists up, “Yeah, fine. Don’t worry about me.” It comes out sharper than intended, his anger towards his dad accidentally spilling into his words.
Will nods, like he expected that answer, “you don’t look fine.”
Mike finally looks over, but doesn’t meet Will's gaze. He softens his voice, “Are you okay? I-I haven't talked to you since…” his voice trailed off.
Will nods, “Yeah, yeah I'm good. Could be better.”
Mike nods, looking up Will's eyes finally. “I’m sorry.” he says, softer this time.
Will tilts his head, “Sorry for what?”
Mike shakes his head, “I'm sorry for not being there for you. Not enough for you to tell me before. I feel like..”
Mike hesitates, words on the tip of his tongue. Like an asshole, like you couldn't trust me enough with your deepest darkest secret because somehow you think I would ever hurt you on purpose.
He swallows it down, “Never mind. Just, I'm sorry.”
Will shakes his head, “You don’t need to apologize for anything, Mike. You did nothing wrong. It’s not- It’s not like I didn't want to tell you. It’s just hard. I didn’t want it to change anything between us I guess.”
Mike nods, “It wouldn't have. Changed anything between us. I-I mean it hasn't.”
Will smiles a little, “Well that’s-” Pause. “Good.”
Mike feels lightheaded, it has changed things. Not for Will of course. It changed Mike’s brain chemistry. Systematically changed every neuron in his brain until it was rewired.
Not in a bad way, he guesses. He wasn’t really sure.
“Yeah. Good. We’re good.” Mike says with finality.
“We’re good.” Will repeats. Mike finally smiles back.
-
The following months went by in agonizing slow motion. Life without Jane. Life after Vecna.
It had almost been two years since it happened.
It felt like the world paused before everything happened and Mike was left in Limbo.
The dull ache in his chest never went away, but day by day, doing things felt a little easier. He started to find comfort in the monotony of simple tasks.
He only left the house for school now. He liked school. Gave his brain something to do besides think about Jane. About how he couldn't say he loved her back even though she was…
He leaned back in his chair, arms stretching over on his desk. The paper remained blank despite staring at it for a while.
He was trying to write a letter. To Jane.
To make up for, well everything.
He did love her. Just not in the way she needed him to, not in the way he wanted to. She did mean a lot to him. More than words can say.
He raked his hand through his hair, smoothing it down to the side.
He has gotten better. About the whole self loathing and disgust thing. Seeing how happy Will is, how unapologetically him he is. Will who was pure, and kind, and selfless, and everything good.
Mike found immense comfort in it. If Will was good, amazing even, even though he was not into girls, maybe- maybe Mike could be too.
Mike no longer felt shame about stealing glances, lingering touches, shoulder bumps. He worked through it slowly over the last few months. Talking to Will more openly about everything, like crushes, the type of guys he was into, when he knew he liked boys, it helped him see there really wasn't anything wrong with him. Because if there was something wrong with himself then that would mean there's something wrong with Will. Nothing could ever be wrong with Will.
He balanced the pencil between his fingers, contemplating.
“This is too much. I need a break.” he groaned quietly.
He got up and stepped quietly out of his room. He looked over at Nancy’s room, quiet without her here. Mom debated turning it into a guest room just in case they decide to ever take another family in for some reason, but decided against it. He went in there sometimes, and sat on her bed. It was like time froze in time, all the decorations and furniture in the same place she left it, even her bed was still made.
He padded down the stairs, stepping in the spots that won’t creak loudly. It was late. He looked over and found his dad where he always was. Passed out on his dumb recliner. Despite having a near death experience, his dad did little to no change in his, well everything. They say almost dying is supposed to change a person, but Ted Wheeler was living proof and embodiment of stubbornness.
Mike made his way to the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with tap water. He leaned against the counter, raising the glass to his lips and drinking slowly.
He misses when Will was living here. At least he could bother him when he couldn't sleep. He looked over at the clock on the wall, barely making out the hour and minute hands in the dark.
12:46
It’s not that late, but it is for a school night he supposes.
Last day of school before graduation. Before his life moves into a new phase without Jane here.
He rubs his hand over his face, groaning. “Stupid.”
He sets the glass in the sink and makes his way back to his room. He closes his door with a soft click and walks over, settling onto the edge of his bed.
He clicks his tongue against his teeth, deciding something. He leans down and reaches under his bed, pulling out a black binder. He sets it on his lap, staring at it. Almost as if he could use x-ray vision to see through it. He slides his hand over the smooth plastic of the binder, curling his fingers around the edge, slowly pulling it open.
He blinks his vision into focus, staring down at the drawings in the slots of the plastic folders. He flips through them, smiling wider after each one. Random doodles, full reference sheets of the party’s characters, drawings of just Will and Mike on the swings, drawn crudely in crayon.
He gets to the back of the binder, staring at the tucked away folder piece of paper. He grabs it with shaking hands. Unfolding it slowly. The painting Jane had commissioned.
He felt awful now for folding it, causing creasing in the delicate paint strokes.
He couldn't bring himself to look at it after. So he tucked it away. Like the part of him he couldn't accept.
He was feeling brave, or nostalgic, or both. He needed to look at it again.
“Youre the heart.” Will had said. He found it odd he never heard Jane say any of these things. How she never mentioned it. He guessed it was hard to find time when she was training everyday. It didn’t matter now, they broke up anyway.
He set the painting carefully on his desk, he’ll hang it up tomorrow. He yawned as he closed the binder and tucked it back under his bed.
He reached to turn off the lamp, tucking himself under his duvet and closing his eyes. He tossed and turned for a bit but eventually sleep finally found him.